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eureka-its-zico · 8 months

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Chaos in Their Bones Ch. 2

Ongoing Series

Synopsis: All your life you’d listened to your friend, Usopp spin wild tales about pirates and adventure. Pirates weren’t a thing that came often to Syrup Village, but one straw hat pirate and his crew changed all that the day they arrived. Now, you aren’t so sure if your sleepy little village was always pirate-free or if no one had been paying attention.

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x Reader

Genre: friends to lovers, frenemies to lovers, slow burn (I hope y’all like aching) eventual smut

Words: 6k+

A/N: For this chapter, I played with the idea of having Zoro’s POV. It felt necessary for the story progression that I had in mind. This chapter was a tad fun to write, and I hope that translated well into the story. Originally it was going to be longer, but I realized I wanted to save the dinner to go with all the action to end the Episode 3-4 story arc. Thank you guys so much for the love you’ve given this little story. I hope it continues to be one you enjoy 🖤 Much Love, Jenn

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This place is a maze.

That thought rang true with every hallway you entered and the endless number of rooms within. With every step you took inside Kaya’s large estate, those words kept echoing through your head. How many guest suites could one house possibly hold? But also, why would you ever need so many?

You’d been wandering the halls for what felt like an eternity. Your head poked into each room after a brief knock. Yes, a brief knock before plunging head-first into someone’s private space wasn’t much of a warning but at least you were knocking.

And all of this just to find Zoro who may or may not help you expose whatever metaphorical skeletons this butler had stuffed in his metaphorical closet. Or an actual closet. The possibilities felt endless.

You weren’t even sure how you were going to explain to him exactly why you were searching for him without sounding like a creep. You would just have to cross that bridge when you came to it.

You were about to give up trying to locate him because you were pretty sure you’d just passed that same exact clock for the second time in a row. You let out a raspberry as you placed your hands on your hips. Was it plausible you were lost? Inside a ginormous house like this? Yes, it sure as shit was. Maybe you should’ve been dropping breadcrumbs to find your way back to your own room when this was over.

Rolling your tongue around your mouth, you looked down to your right and realized there were only two more doors left. What could it hurt just to look? You were already down here anyway.

With a shrug, you moved towards the second to last door near the end of the hall. You weren’t in a rush to check what was behind either one, but you were also not leaving any stone unturned and all that. If your earlier dozen room checks were any indication of what to expect, you were willing to bet that you were going to find absolutely nothing waiting for you. The joy of joys.

You were just a few feet from the door when you heard the lock click. The sound caused you to stop dead center, facing the door like an absolutely terrified rabbit caught in the headlights. What were the chances that whoever opened that door was going to be Zoro? And what were the chances that he would be willing to listen to what you had to say?

The possibility of your questions being answered ebbed the panic in your chest down just a tad. Enough that when the door finally opened and Zoro was, in fact, standing before you, you silently thanked the universe for your suddenly award-winning luck.

That was until you realized he was just standing there. In a robe. A silk robe with his swords slung over his shoulder and because of his current hold on his swords, said robe in question was flashing a peak of his chest. You immediately wanted to take back your previous thank you letter to the universe.

This should be illegal.

The worst part? You were pretty positive from the way Zoro was staring at you - his eyes taking you in from top to bottom lord HELP you - he did not seem as impressed with you as you were of him. Why in the hell couldn’t you say a word? Yes, he was attractive - stupidly so - but he was also just another guy.

A guy in a thin silk robe and hair still damp from a bath.

You watched as Zoro’s body began to relax, or relax as much as someone like him could. It was when he let out a sigh as if your very presence was keeping him from something important, that you felt your feet remove themselves from their spot in the carpet and spring you forward.

There was a split second when Zoro’s eyes registered your movement. His eyebrows raised up in surprise as the almond shape of his eyes widened just a tad before he braced for whatever you were about to do. Zoro was planning on an attack and his body was primed to force you back. Instead of violence, he was met with your hands shoving him back inside his room with your foot kicking the door swiftly closed behind you.

Once you knew you were both securely back inside the room, you stopped shoving him. You waited for your eyes to adjust to the dim lighting of the room before you looked around. It would be embarrassing if you’d done this and someone else - Nami or Luffy or anyone else really - had been inside with him. The only thing you noticed, however, was his previous clothes strewn across the room.

When your eyes ventured back to Zoro you found his earlier shock replaced by what you could only guess was his usual stonewall expression.

“Look,” he began the timber of his voice causing you to jump. “You seem nice and all, if not a little disturbed, but I’m not interested.”

You looked up at him with your confusion knitting your brow together.

“Not interested?”

You weren’t sure why it took you that long to realize what he meant, but it was dawning on you at warp speed and your confusion was quickly replaced with horror.

“Oh my god! No, no! I was not trying to like, do anything to you like that.”

The disbelief in his eyes told you plainly he didn’t believe you, and by the tick in his jaw something was bothering him about your statement.

Shit! He thinks I’m a perv

You wanted to crawl under the nearest rock and die there. You followed his eyes as they trailed down his chest to find your hands were very much still attached to him, practically groping him.

“Then why are your hands still on my chest?”

A small squeak of surprise left you as you dropped your hands down to your sides and shook them like it would be enough to get rid of the feeling of cupping his very pronounced…chest. You took a step back from him in hopes that giving him space would save the entire interaction.

“Sorry about all the ugh…touching,” you mumbled. “But I did come here to speak to you about something.”

“This is going to be good. Is it to convince me you weren’t trying to grope me?”

“God, you aren’t going to let it go, are you?”

Closing your eyes you took in a deep breath and slowly let it out. When you finished, you opened your eyes again and gave him the best smile you could muster.

“Okay, let’s start this again. I,” you motioned towards yourself, “have come to ask you if you noticed anything weird.”

Zoro cocked an eyebrow at you. His arms moved to lock his arms across his chest somehow exposing the peek of flesh from the robe even more.

“You mean weirder than right now?”

You purse your lips together tightly as you try to exhale all the annoyance from gathering in your body.

“Let’s just move on from this moment, ok,” you began. “I came to talk to you about the butler.”

Without warning, Zoro rolled his eyes and dropped his arms from his chest. His swords clanging against his leg reminding you that he wasn’t making any move to set them down anytime soon.

“Here we go again about the butler,” he groaned, and the very sound shouldn’t have sounded as enticing as it did.

Focus!

“Oh, save it!” You snapped. “I saw you, okay? The way you looked at Klahadore before you followed your friends inside. You looked at him like you recognized him. Like you’d seen him before somewhere.”

Zoro regarded you coolly. The hardness that had disappeared while he’d teased you earlier slid back into place until he was as unreadable as stone.

“I’ve never seen that butler before in my entire life.”

“Why are you lying?”

You couldn’t keep the exasperation from your voice or how your desperation was starting to creep back in. Could you have been wrong about Zoro this whole time? Did you just see what you wanted to see?

No. You know what you saw and you were not going to be called crazy. You took a step towards him and weren’t surprised when he didn’t move back. Instead, he tilted his chin, his full pouty lips still very much pouting, as his eyes carefully watched you.

“You know, that I know, that you looked at that guy and went, ‘hmph, something’s not right there’.”

Yeah, that felt like a solid argument.

You waited under Zoro’s cool gaze for him to reply. For him to show any sign of anything, really. He was literally the most unmoving person you’d ever meet, and you were starting to wonder if he was even real. The shitty part about waiting in silence, besides the uneasy commentary your brain was beginning to make, was the smell of the vanilla and sandalwood that wafted off him in mini waves that assaulted your senses.

You were so intently transfixed by trying to match his unblinking gaze that when he finally moved his head down to be eye level with you, you’d almost jumped out of your skin.

“Is everything okay with you? Do you suffer from any brain damage?”

You wish you could say you handled the next few seconds with grace and poise. Things that all upstanding future doctors did when faced with adversity. However, that was most definitely not you, and you weren’t able to keep an exacerbated yell of frustration from cairning past your lips.

“Oh! You are literally the most infuriating man I have ever met!”

“And you are the most perverted woman I have ever met,” Zoro shot back, this time taking a step towards you.

If he was trying to intimidate you, he should’ve tried back when you weren’t ready to tear him limb from limb.

“I beg your pardon?!”

“Who just pushes a semi-naked man into a room so they can grope him?”

“I wasn’t trying to grope you! I was trying to interrogate you for information!”

God, that sounded so much worse.

“That sounds a lot worse, actually.”

Of course, Zoro would state the obvious, and was he - was he smirking? Your eyes rapidly blinked as you tried to make sense of what you were seeing because as fast as you’d noticed it, that devilish smirk had disappeared. Now Zoro once again looked as serious as before. You began to move back towards the door with your hands up in mock surrender.

“You know what - fine! If you don’t want to help me, that’s your choice, but you know I’m right. And I’m going to prove that something is wrong here with or without your help.”

You shot one last look in his direction before turning on your heel and giving him your back. You were at the door, your hand on the doorknob when Zoro surprised you with a question of his own.

“Why ask me to help you?”

Glancing over your shoulder, you expected to see that smug smirk on his face or to get the cold shoulder. What you found instead were eyes so intent on you - waiting for your response - that it caused your lungs to collapse. A million replies played over through your mind, but only one of them mattered.

“Because out of everyone here, I thought you would believe me the most.”

It didn’t matter if it was the answer he’d been looking for or the one you thought would win him over. You meant what you said and you hoped he’d felt your admission genuinely. If Usopp didn’t want to believe you, and if Zoro, who you still believed knew or at least felt something was off here, wasn’t going to be able to help you, you would just have to do it yourself.

Did you know what that entailed? Hell no, but Naan didn’t raise a quitter, and you weren’t going to roll over and just give up just because it was hard. Not when someone’s very life depended on you.

——————

After your incredible failure of finding a co-conspirator to help you on your quest for answers failed with flying colors, you weren’t exactly sure what to do with yourself. Usopp no doubt must have snuck in by now to see Kaya - sans your “gift” - and the others were probably in the ridiculous closet looking for dinner attire. While you could’ve gone just to socialize with everyone else, Kaya had sent a dress to your room.

Sham had looked absolutely miserable dropping it off and that was a joy all on its own.

You considered heading to the closet just to see Luffy again. Luffy radiated optimism like sunshine; at the moment, that sort of unyielding optimism was the mood booster you needed.

Unfortunately, you knew Zoro must have made his way there by now and you weren’t necessarily ready to face him again. The disappointment was clinging to you and that’s what you hated the most. You didn’t understand why you’d seemingly put all your eggs inside the Zoro basket. Just because he’d looked at Klahadore weird didn't mean he’d sensed something off.

Shit, Klahadore was weird and deserved every side-eye glance he got.

All it meant for you was going back to the drawing board for a new plan. One that was going to be able to get you next to Kaya. At least long enough so you could perform some kind of assessment.

You rounded the corner to what you hoped was the hallway your room was down. The earlier thought you’d had about getting lost turned into an accurate one. You’d spent just as much time trying to get back to your room to get ready for dinner as you had searching for Zoro.

Zoro.

Even just thinking about him made your jaw clench with fresh irritation. What was more infuriating than your most recent conversation was the fact you could still feel the strength of him in the hollows of your palms. The sharpness of his jaw and the high sculpt of his cheeks-

No! Absolutely not, you chastised yourself.

It was maddening how little he believed you - mocked you - and yet, here you were acting like some lovestruck teenager. He wasn’t that handsome.

You were lost in your thoughts to the point you weren’t aware of your body's attempt to warn you. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end and a sickening feeling began to rot in your gut and made sure all the imaginary - very imaginary - butterflies disappeared.

The goosebumps that rose along your exposed skin informed you that the grand hallway, filled with all its riches and fine cherry woods was as ice cold as the dead. Has it always been this cold and you just never noticed? Or the eerie silence that made the manor feel more haunted than alive.

Your feet involuntarily came to a halt in the middle of the hall. You couldn’t explain the panic that was building in your chest, but it felt like you were being watched. Your heart rate sped up until you could practically feel it thundering against your ribs.

“You are being silly,” you whispered to yourself. “It’s just an old house.”

“Old houses do have their quirks, don’t they?”

You wish you could say that when Klahadore spoke from behind you, you’d reacted with grace. With dignity. What actually happened was you screamed sharp enough it could raise the dead.

The whiplash you gave yourself as you turned to face him was dizzying. You wanted to kill the fear that widened your eyes and pressed your brow into your hairline. Your mouth was painfully dry as you took in his presence and the absolute shit-eating grin he wore.

He enjoyed seeing you afraid.

“Oh dear, Doc, did I give you a fright?”

Klahadore gently tipped the frame of his glasses with the edge of his palm. You wanted to smack them off his smug face.

“What do you want, Klahadore?”

You struggled to regain your composure. You refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you afraid. It was what he wanted after all and didn’t take much to notice. He was already trying to close the few inches your retreat had given you.

“I was simply wondering why you were wandering around the manor. You’ve been showing highly suspicious behavior ever since you and your friends arrived.”

Your eyes narrowed in on him and as you held your head high.

“Have you been following me?”

“Oh, come now, don't be silly. To have someone followed means you’re worried about what they’ll find, and you? You are the last thing I would be worried about.”

Klahadore dropped his head down until he was eye level with you, but somehow used his size to remain imposing. A thinly veiled threat to remind you exactly what he thought of you; nothing.

The first time you’d ever received an insult from Klahadore had been just like this. Alone and away from anywhere Kaya could hear him. He’d made sure that Usopp and you were together just so he wouldn’t have to repeat the insult twice.

“I know you two must feel exceedingly special having Miss Kaya ask for you to come keep her company, but I’m afraid this will be the last time you ever come over unannounced or not. We can’t allow her image to be tarnished from being seen with unwanted children.” “Unwanted?” Usopp had been so confused - he knew he was wanted; wanted by Kaya and you. Klahadore saw in that confusion an opportunity to place doubt in his mind and completely tear him apart. “Yes - unwanted. So unwanted that your father never returned, and your mother chose death as a final way to be rid of you.” “You son of a bitch!” You’d snarled and snapped. You were only kids. The world had taught you early on about hardships and fairness; how the world and the people in it could lack kindness. But Naan always made you look for the good in the world, and in the people who sometimes allowed the ugliness of others to warp them into someone they weren’t. It was a concept child you never understood. Teenage you were barely beginning to grasp it, but when Klahadore spoke those words so full of hate and venom at your best friend: there weren’t enough flames left in hell to cover up your rage.

The memory of that day left a black mark on your soul and you find it replaying at the most inconvenient of times. A harsh reminder of the first time you’d ever considered murder as a means of healing. The world would have to be a better place if someone like Klahadore wasn’t in it. Right?

Naan, as always, talked you down from doing something rash. From allowing someone like Klahadore to have the last laugh and ruin all the plans you had for your life.

But Naan wasn’t here to talk you off that ledge or to remind you who she knew you were. Your rage shouldn’t define you. Looking at Klahadore’s retreating back, you weren’t all too sure if it wasn’t you because if he ever showed up needing any form of medical attention, you weren’t so sure if he’d leave on his own two feet.

A body bag would suit him nicely.

You watched him until he completely disappeared leaving you alone once more inside the hallway. It felt weird to take those first steps back towards your room. To go inside and see the dress Kaya had sent to your room and know you were going to put it on and share dinner with that man standing in the same room.

There had to be a way to show everyone here exactly who Klahadore was, and you would spend the whole dinner trying to do just that.

———————

He’d been searching for a drink since his interaction with you back in his room. Zoro wanted to call you crazy - hell you acted crazy enough, but you’d done something he hadn’t expected.

You’d surprised him.

He didn’t want to admit it then but he did get a weird vibe from the butler. The minute his eyes landed on Klahadore it had sparked a nagging feeling of a memory he just couldn’t quite place.

And you’d noticed.

After you’d left his room, he couldn’t shake the conversation you’d forced him to be a part of. Teasing you had been easy. He’d expected you to be a bleeding heart, but as you’d turned to leave, stomping your feet and spitting back words that stung for just a second, it had been Zoro’s turn to notice something about you.

It was the fire of your determination that piqued his interest.

While Zoro wasn’t sure why you held such a stick up your ass exactly about the butler, he was positive you had a reason. Besides the fact he couldn’t seem to pull up a clear memory of why the same butler piqued his own interest, and that was beginning to piss him off.

What was even more annoying was the fact you’d brought it up enough that he’d asked Nami and Luffy if the butler seemed familiar. He didn’t know why he’d asked. If it had been more for him or for you.

That pissed him off more.

You seemed to be good at that. Pissing him off and getting under his skin.

When he came downstairs, Zoro expected you to be there already. A quick glance around the room informed him you weren’t there, but a row of flutes filled with what he hoped was alcohol most certainly was.

He carefully set down his strap of swords and moved closer to the drinks. No one else made a move towards them and, for a split second, Zoro was worried maybe the flutes were nonalcoholic. He reached out and wrapped his fingers around the delicate crystal and quickly brought it to his lips.

The smell of the liquor hit him first and his muscles relaxed instantaneously.

God. This was exactly what he needed.

“Zoro! You gotta try this!”

Zoro didn’t bother looking because he’d seen the appetizers being served when he came down the stairs. He wasn’t impressed. Plus, if he was going to make it through this evening, he was going to need way more booze than what was inside these little Crystal flutes.

“I got all I need right here,” he replied and brought the glass up to his lips.

The first sip erased all the tension that had been binding up his muscles. The next pull from the glass relaxed him completely, and he downed what was left in one giant gulp. He placed the now-empty flute back down on the tray and swiftly grabbed another.

Zoro was vaguely aware of all the chatting going on around him. The sound of Usopp and Luffy sharing stories and Nami doing whatever it was Nami did during fancy dinner parties. He meant what he said - he did have everything he needed to make it through this dinner inside these glasses. At least, that’s what he thought until the sound of a heel echoing off the step brought his attention to the top of the stairs.

He was sure the new flute with his latest drink was at his lips. Zoro inhaled the sharp scent of liqueur with every breath he took. He just couldn’t seem to make his elbow bend enough to drop it from his face.

You were making your way down the staircase, oblivious to the world around you as you came down with a hand carefully placed on the railing.

The dress you wore was covered in article flowers; all of their small bold colors were bright against the backdrop of black chiffon. The top of the dress left your shoulders exposed, and the style you’d chosen to wear your hair, with beads of pearls intricately placed within each strand, made you seem ethereal.

You looked like moonlight inside a garden; soft and wild and for the first time Zoro forgot that breathing was important.

Once you reached the last step, your eyes finally moved up from the safety of your feet. Zoro was vaguely aware the rim of the glass was still resting on his bottom lip, and that he’d yet to take a drink. He felt frozen - helpless - until your eyes found his rooted frame - helplessly waiting - and the smile that curved your lips brightened up the room.

It was in this second that he realized he was fucked, and the annoyance of that realization was enough for him to finally upend the glass in one large gulp.

——————

Zoro had looked at you for less than a millisecond before he’d upended the contents of his glass in one large gulp. His disinterest was evident enough throughout his entire body. With one last glance in your direction, he turned back to the waiting tray of glasses.

Well, that wasn’t the reaction you’d expected.

The disappointment scraped raw across your chest as you watched Zoro take up another glass. His gaze was steadfast at the wall as he downed whatever was inside. What felt more disappointing was the fact you’d cared.

For all intents and purposes, Zoro was an asshole. So, it begged the ever-present question: Why did it bother you so much?

Yes, you’d painstakingly gotten ready around the dress Kaya left inside your suite. Was it your usual taste? You weren’t all that sure, to be honest. It’s not like you’d ever been invited to any fancy dinner parties before. You weren’t sure if this was the proper form of dress or if you’d gone overboard with your hair.

At least Nami had a feather inside her hair and it looked as if she’d given her blood-orange hair some curls. She looked absolutely gorgeous and you made it your mission to tell her.

“Wow, Doc you look-“ Usopp began.

You turned beaming towards your friend as you waited for him to acknowledge your hard work. Maybe at least Usopp, of all people, would say something nice.

“Different.”

You could practically feel your smile deflate at the edges.

“What did you put in your hair?” Luffy asked around a mouthful of meat.

“Oh yeah, I was wondering what looked different. It’s the hair,” Usopp confirmed with Luffy.

The both of them smiled and nodded at one another as if they just solved world hunger. Your tongue rolled around your cheek as you debated on what to say. Maybe you’d expected to much out of a bunch of men.

“They’re pearls,” you huffed.

“That’s silly,” Luffy chuckled. “Why would you ever put pearls in your hair?”

“It’s to look nice.”

“I never knew hair needed accessories,” Usopp offered before taking a bit of his appetizer.

“Nami put a feather in her hair,” Luffy offered before taking another bite. “Maybe you guys can talk about putting random stuff in your hair.”

There was no way this conversation could be real, and yet…

Luffy was still wearing his genuine smile while he and Usopp continued to enjoy the appetizers Sham passed around. This evening was turning out to be the last time you’d ever consider wearing anything like this again. What was even worse was that out of the three of them, Zoro was the only one properly dressed.

While Usopp went with his usual no shirt underneath his jacket, Luffy was wearing just a petty coat and miraculously found dress slacks that didn’t even reach his ankle. They looked like their usual selves, just dressed in black.

But Zoro…

No! Absolutely not.

“I’ll go look for Nami so we can discuss…putting things in our hair.”

“That’s great! I’m sure it will make her happy. She seemed frustrated earlier when she asked for help.”

“I can’t imagine why,” you mumbled, as you turned to find Nami speaking to Merry.

Well, it looked like that was going to be a bust too. Man, she really did look very pretty, though. You were considering what your options were. You weren’t comfortable just injecting yourself into whatever conversation Nami and Merry were having, especially not when she was rubbing his arm like that.

Luckily for you, the sound of Klahadore announcing Kaya’s entrance kept you from having to go with your final option, which was to get a drink. Next to Zoro.

You all collectively turned to watch as Klahadore helped Kaya make her way down the stairs. You couldn’t help but smile up at her and her current choice of attire. While she’d made you look like a garden, you could only assume she was the sunshine that hovered above it. The only problem you had with the golden silk material was that it somehow made her sickly pale skin appear paler.

She must have picked the color in hopes it wouldn’t do that, but all it did was raise the alarm bells in the back of your mind. You’d allowed a pretty dress and a fancy meal to cloud the real reason you’d come in the first place. Instead of being a doctor, you were playing dress-up.

You were still scolding yourself when Kaya finally made it to the end of the staircase. Her smile was bright and happier than it had been in a long time, as she regarded Nami and the dress she’d chosen. It hadn’t even registered that any of the clothes you currently were wearing belonged to her deceased parents. You made a mental note to make sure to take extra special care not to ruin the dress with any droplets of food.

“Oh, Doc, I’m so glad I picked this,” Kaya breathed. “You look absolutely magical.”

You couldn’t help but look down at the dress again. It was an incredibly delicate dress. A work of art to be worn on the body. Maybe that was why you felt like such an imposter wearing it.

When you looked back at her, you tried to give Kaya a convincing smile. One you could even make yourself believe you felt worthy to have it on.

“Oh, Kaya you are too nice,” you replied, only for her to shoot you down with a wave of her hand.

“Nonsense. Usopp is always telling me about all the good you do for everyone. It’s time you let yourself be appreciated.”

Your earlier response to Kaya’s welcoming smile was one of your own, but at the mention of your supposed good deeds, you felt it tighten into a grimace.

It means nothing if I can’t even help you.

Up close, her color wasn’t pale - it was ashen. The whites of her eyes were devoured with a yellowish tint and -

Like the parasite he was, Klahadore was there pulling Kaya gently by her elbow to lead her back to the conversation between herself and Merry. Your eyes followed him as he made sure to plant her a few feet in front of you; her back excluding you from following to join.

Once he made sure she was safely away from you, Klahadore stationed himself a few feet away next to the penguin pillar at the base of the stairs. He thought he was sneaky and that he had stopped your trained eyes from being able to do a quick evaluation.

Unlucky for Klahadore you were quicker than he thought.

You were getting ready to head over to him when you caught Zoro walking back over to the tray. He was doing his usual of placing down an empty glass only to grab a fresh one, except this time he was talking. To Klahadore.

What a fucking liar!

You couldn’t think straight as you watched the exchange. The way Klahadore overplayed the flabbergasted victim. You didn’t have to be close to them to know what Zoro was asking him, because just like you’d suspected, he did seem familiar to Zoro.

It felt like you could breathe fire, you were so pissed.

At some point, Klahadore ended the conversation by interjecting himself into someone else’s conversation. You didn’t care what it was. They could’ve been discussing flying pigs for all you cared. Your eyes were still honed in on Zoro who regarded you for a split second before he sat back down in the parlor’s middle seat.

You started making your way towards him when Klahadore called out it was time to eat. You suddenly weren’t hungry.

Zoro must have sensed you coming for him because in one swift move, he was out of the seat and standing. The strap that held his katana’s back over his shoulder as he followed Sham behind the double doors.

“You son of a-“

“Doc!” Usopp whisper-shouted as he nervously took your hand in his. “Sit next to me. Please.”

You were still seeing metaphorical red. Your brain firing rapidly on only one main thought and that was to get a hold of Zoro and throttle him.

It wasn’t Usopp’s fault that Zoro was a dick, and he looked genuinely terrified. Stuffing your current bad mood as far down as you could muster (you were about to see said moss-haired reason for your fowl mood in t-minus two seconds), you planted on a smile and gently took Usopp’s hand.

“What kind of wingman would I be if I didn’t?”

“Oh, thank god,” he laughed.

The both of you followed closely behind Merry and the others as you were all escorted inside the dining room. Merry quickly took his seat at the end of the table, and you noticed rather quickly Zoro had claimed the seat closest to the door.

Without thinking, you took the seat beside him and motioned for Usopp to take the last one. The one directly beside Kaya. For a moment, Usopp looked at you wide-eyed and uncertain. You did your best to make him comfortable.

“You got this, Usopp,” you whispered. “Don’t overthink it.”

His response came in a small nod that did little to erase the terror that shined in his eyes. You gave his arm a light squeeze for reassurance before you straightened up in the chair. Glancing over, you watched as Zoro poured what looked like a freshly opened bottle of wine into a glass.

You waited patiently for him to finish and when he went to set the bottle down you made your move. With a slight lean to your right, you swiped your hand out to grab a hold of the glass. Zoro caught the movement too late, but you now had his full attention. His nostrils flaring the only indication that he was irritated by your sudden drink stealing.

Good.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He questioned.

His dark eyes never left your face as he waited for you to answer.

“Being petty.”

To bring the point home, you tilted the glass in his direction in a silent salute. You made sure he watched as you brought it to your lips and took a sip of the blood-red wine within.

Zoro’s jaw ticked in irritation as you gave him a devious smirk, and when Sham came by Zoro waved her over.

“I need a new glass.”

Now the smile that graced your lips was genuine and you made sure Zoro was aware of it. It was time to have a little fun of your own and that included hogging as much of his alcohol as humanly possible.

------------------------

As always, thank you for reading. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

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If I missed tagging anyone please let me know!

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florencemtrash · 6 months

Text

Flame, Shadow, Beast : Flame

Azriel x Reader x Eris

Summary: Years after Eris frees you from his father’s prison, you’ve managed to find a new love, new friends, and build a life for yourself in Autumn. But when a certain Shadowsinger stumbles upon your home, dragging in painful memories of betrayal and longing, you’ll have to face the things you left in the past and make choices about the future you want.

Warnings: Fluffy Eris x Reader and our favorite monster, Bryaxis, makes an appearance.

Flame, Shadow, Beast: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

It was a cruel irony that winning a war was the easiest part of ruling. Eris thought about it often, doubts invading his rare moments of quiet; Maybe he’d made a mistake. Maybe the lives of thousands of Autumn Court members - both those loyal to him and to his father - hadn’t been worth the weight of the crown now sitting on his head.

The wood and gold had been harvested from the body of one of the Old Gods to whom some of the rural folk still owed their ultimate allegiance; the rubies had come from a land beyond the western seas as a declaration of war back when they’d been ruled by a more ancient race of beings - the predecessors to the Blood Rubies the Summer Court was so fond of doling out. Eris wondered if he’d ever get used to carrying so much history on his body.

The sun had barely crested over the treetops, blanketing the forest floor with streams of liquid gold, when he came across your village. The first fae he saw - a female with short elk horns extending gracefully from her temples - nearly dropped her basket at the sight of him. Eris gently bowed his head in greeting and her face flushed as crimson as the red garment dye that stained her hands.

“My High Lord,” She breathed out, dropping to her knees despite the prickling straw that perpetually littered the roads.

Heads of varying shades of chestnut and scarlet appeared behind closed windows like candlights. During the harvest months everyone woke and slept with the sun.

One by one fae streamed out of their homes, each of them carrying tribute in the form of freshly baked bread, baskets of apples and peaches, sheepskin cloaks, and barrels of mead.

“Stand.” Eris gently commanded them as they fell to their knees, “We’re just passing through.” He could see the hesitation in their eyes. They feared disrespecting him.

Eight years of being High Lord and he had yet to perfect the delicate balance between distance and familiarity with his people.

Halvor coughed from beside him, eyes raised from beneath the shadow of his bronze helm.

Get off your horse and talk to them. His eyes said, repeating the mantra that you liked to say around the royal pair.

Eris understood and dismounted with grace and power. With his scarlet and gold riding cloak, flaming hair, and ruby crown he looked like the spirit of Autumn come to life - all sharp edges and burning stoicism. He was a living fire.

But fire could give warmth as much as pain - nurture and grow as much as it could raze the world to the ground. So Eris took his time to speak with the people. He sampled their mead and ale, complimented the pixies who wove threads of warm oranges, yellows, and reds with their nimble fingers, and visited the rolling fields of corn, barley, and wheat that waved in the brisk breeze. The gray-tinged sky above tasted of power and freedom.

Under Beron’s reign, the fruits of the fields would have fallen entirely under the purview of the High Lord with little remaining for the people who tended the long grasses. Now that they were allowed to own their own land and keep what was due to them, the air was lighter here, happier. It was the first harvest in a long time where they’d feel comfortable enough to celebrate properly.

The mask ebbed away, leaving him feeling lighter than he had in ages as he walked through a town.

A familiar face stared out from behind the small crowd that had gathered by the wheat fields. Talk of this year’s harvest festival rose in the air until everyone could taste the spiced rum, roasted pistachios, caramelized apples, and pumpkin with fresh cream on their tongues. It was still months away, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t get excited now.

Eris broke away - an easy task when they parted ways for him like a hot knife through butter - and approached your smiling figure.

“I was wondering what was taking you so long.” You said, clasping your hands behind your back and smiling at Eris.

“So you came all this way just to investigate?” Eris arched his brow. You were no stranger to these people (and much beloved), but you preferred to keep to your little cottage beyond the town.

“Surprisingly, yes. For you, I would come all this way. And,” You shook the small parcel in your arm, “For Aliona’s candles.”

He grinned and offered you his arm, which you accepted, and quietly began to walk back to where Halvor had been dutifully waiting with the horses… and taking more than a few samples of drinks from beside his stead.

“I also wanted to make sure he hadn’t killed you in your sleep yet.” You said, tilting your head towards his brother.

“Careful, Y/n.”

Halvor was the youngest of Autumn’s trueborn sons, and had grown to become Eris’s second over the course of the war and the years that followed. Cruelty was still hammered into his bones - a disfiguring mark left by their father - but disloyalty was not one of his many negative traits. He’d been the only one to come to Eris’s aid in the war, and subsequently the last of Eris’s brothers to survive. That counted for something in your book.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it seriously, but I could’ve poked fun in a better way.” You said softly, gently leaning into his side. He forgave you quickly. He could never stay angry at you - he wasn’t even sure it was possible.

Halvor tipped his head towards you, eyes the color of freshly brewed coffee staring at you with mischief.

“My Lady.” He said half-mockingly, sweeping out his arm into a shallow bow.

You rolled your eyes. “How many times have I told you not to call me that?”

“Why not? Is my brother not a good enough romp for you? If you want better company I could-”

Eris cut off his words with a growl of warning. Halvor only tipped his head back and laughed - a grating sound that eight years of peace under Eris’s rule still hadn’t managed to file away.

“We’ll be walking to her home from here.” Eris said, slipping into his High Lord voice, “Try and keep your distance and be on the lookout.” Halvor nodded, turning serious at the shift in his brother’s voice. There were countless enemies who would be happy to snatch the crown away from a new, as of yet untested, High Lord.

He followed obediently, keeping his distance as you and Eris both bade farewell to the townspeople.

You lived on a patch of land too far to even be considered the outskirts of town, but you were a familiar face to everyone. A healer by trade and Eris’s most trusted advisor and friend, you were the one they called upon in the dead of night when evil whispered nearby or sickness fell upon them.

Evaldre, they called you in one of the Old Tongues. The exact meaning had been lost to time, but it spoke of someone cherished and highly regarded. Some of the bold ones even went so far as to call you “Our High Lady.”

Ten years ago uttering those words would have meant the swift swing of a sword on one’s neck. If High Lord Eris knew of it, he never seemed to mind.

Bryaxis waited for you on your doorstep, pleasantly lounging in a patch of light and watching the gentle fall of crisp leaves from the trees above. Both Eris and Halvor’s horses groaned low in their throats, hooves pressing into the soil to stop before the clearing. Halvor whistled at them to move forward, but they refused.

“It’s that devil dog of yours,” Halvor said, dismounting and tying off the pair on a low hanging elm branch, “Makes them anxious.”

He whispered words of comfort to them, sliding his hands along their thick necks until they stopped bucking against the reins. Eris had his dogs and Halvor had his horses.

“He’ll stay inside then. Wouldn’t want you to have to walk back to the Forest House with your tail between your legs because you lost the horses.”

Eris smirked when Halvor threw an obscene gesture your way.

The dog in question, black as night with shining silver-blue eyes, stretched and nuzzled into your outstretched hand as you reached your front door, Eris following closely behind.

“Will you be long?” Halvor called out to Eris, raising his eyebrows suggestively with his hyena grin.

“Go home if you’re so impatient. I can make it back on my own.”

“I’ll wait til noon.” If Eris was finished by then, it would mean they took care of business… if Eris wasn’t finished by then, it would mean they were taking care of other business, business Halvor would do no good sticking around for. He snorted at the thought, then lost himself in imagining the other females he might be able to seduce back at the Forest House.

You both passed through the enchantments woven into the wood of your home, feeling a rush of power pour over you like water over stone.

Eris snapped his fingers and the candles you’d placed on your dining table and mantle burst to life, fluttering about like dancers. The fireplace followed suit, sending a wave of warmth throughout the house. Firelight bounced off the rich velvet and creams that adorned your home - a cleaner mimic of the Autumn lands that existed behind the walls and flooded in through the open windows.

The Forest House was a place of luxury, massive enough that it would take you an entire morning just to walk from one end to another, and filled to the brim with treasures of gold, bronze, and enough precious jewels to sink a ship. It was a palace fit for a High Lord. But this was a home, so he took off his crown and hung up his cloak.

“What happened to him?” Eris said, kneeling on the ground and giving Bryaxis a well-deserved scratch behind the ears. The millennia-old creature closed his eyes in satisfaction. “The last time I saw him he was a cat.”

You chuckled, bustling about in the kitchen for a tea set that would match and piling pastries on a plate. The smell of browned butter and strawberry rhubarb jam waltzed in the air.

“He’s been experimenting with new forms.” You said, smugness and pride warming your chest. Not so long after Eris had freed you from the mountain and given you a new home, Bryaxis had found you, drawn to your power. Twin bargain tattoos snaked up from the bridges of your feet to your ankles like vines up a trellis - the first promised that you would do no harm to one another in exchange for dual protection, the second allowed you to take a portion of his power, giving him to opportunity to mold his being into a form that could experience the world in a more physical sense.

Gone was the shapeless creature of shadow and nightmares. Enter Bryaxis the wolf-dog (and occasional housecat) who still radiated enough power to scare away any creature (wicked or otherwise) that dared to disturb the peace of their home. But he could curl up by the windows and watch the night sky uninhibited, and in his heart he was a creature of violence and simplicity in equal measure.

“I like this one better than the cat.” Eris said with a grin, for the monster had copied the shape of one of his prized hunting dogs. Bryaxis seemed to growl in appreciation when Eris straightened up.

He sighed in contentment, feeling the stress of his crown melt away when you wrapped your arms around his middle, burying your face in the crook of his neck and breathing in the scent of cedar, smoke, and cinnamon.

“Hello.” He murmured softly, turning in your arms and pressing his lips against your forehead.

“Hello.” You whispered, brushing your lips against his with a sigh, “I missed you. Where have you been all this time?” The finished reports on your desk, much like your empty bed, had been waiting patiently for Eris’s next visit.

He hesitated, pulling away to look at you. He brushed aside a few stray strands of hair that had fallen out of your braid. “The Night Court.”

You stiffened, “Keir?”

He shook his head, frowning, “Rhysand.”

You blinked, and he saw darkness pass through your eyes.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I wasn’t sure how you’d take it.”

Twelve years.

You’d been Beron’s prisoner for decades before. Then you’d escaped and managed a couple of years of peace. You’d found a home and a family… or so you thought. And then twelve years ago you’d been betrayed - handed back to the now deceased High Lord on a silver platter and trapped beneath the mountain for four years. It made your blood boil to think about the people who helped put you there.

“You’ve been dealing with them for years now,” You forced out in a diplomatic tone, “It’s good for you to have allies, especially strong ones like them.”

“Y/n-”

“You should've told me. I don’t want you to worry about my feelings when it comes to these things. Autumn comes first and-”

“I’ll always worry about you.” Eris said, tilting your chin up and catching the moisture gathering in your eyes that you’d furiously tried to blink away, “And there’s no choice between you and my Court. You belong here. To protect Autumn - to protect you - are the same thing, my love.”

Your cheeks burned at the careful way he spoke, the sincerity in his voice he reserved solely for you in moments like this.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Y/n. I promise it won't happen again."

Fury burned in his stomach, a continuation of the anger that had steadily been eating away at his patience during his visit to the Night Court. To see the Inner Circle look so safe and happy in the bubble they’d carved for themselves in Velaris, naive to the pain and suffering they’d caused you, had made him want to burn The House of Wind to the ground. Alliance be damned.

He hated them nearly as much as he had hated his own father.

“I don’t want to think about them.” You declared, setting your jaw and smoothing away the lines of anger that had formed on Eris’s forehead, “To hell with them.”

Eris smirked, loving the determination that settled in your eyes as you dragged him over to the living room and finished setting up the tea that had started to whistle on the stovetop. You would carve out a space for yourself in this world and be happy, even if it killed you.

“To hell with them.” He repeated.

Business and pleasure. The two were impossible for him to separate, which is why he cherished time spent with you. The pair of you spoke easily together, seamlessly transitioning from discussions of grain reports, treaties, and trade deals to banter about the Harvest Festival and the latest court gossip. Halvor was long gone, and Bryaxis off hunting, when the talking ceased and Eris found himself comfortably spread out on your velvet couch, shirt unbuttoned, and head resting in your lap as you wove your fingers through his hair.

He opened his eyes, lazy and slow, and quietly took in your features - the slope of your nose, the gentle curves of your cheeks and lips as you smiled at him, the contentment in your eyes that shifted into deep thought.

He waited for you to share them with him.

“I’ve been thinking about your proposal.” You said carefully and he froze beneath your hands.

“You-you have?” Eris swallowed and sat up, keeping his distance even as he dared to hope. You’d both been keeping your relationship secret, visiting each other under the guise of court business and court business only. It had certainly started out that way, but things had quickly shifted into something far more intimate and worthy of secrecy… Then Eris had asked if it could stop being so secret.

You nodded, searching his face for something more than the neutral mask every High Lord learned to master.

You moved onto his lap, laying your hands on the sides of his face as his eyes widened ever so slightly, “My answer is yes.”

“Yes?” He asked in disbelief.

Yes to living with him. Yes to going to court with him. Yes to showing the world that he was not alone in his duty. Yes to being by his side wherever either of you went.

No more hiding in this house on the outskirts. No more being afraid of what had happened in the past. No more loneliness.

“Yes.”

He shuddered under your touch and suddenly he was everywhere. His hands roamed the expanse of your back, pulling at the fabric of your bodice. Red locks as vivid as flame got knotted beneath your fingers, and his body pressed flush against yours, desperate for any contact as his chest continued to shake with laughter.

You stayed with him on that couch, neither of you wanting to bother with the effort of walking the extra twenty steps to your bedroom, as articles of clothing were hastily torn off and allowed to float onto the floor in crumples of fabric.

A growl from just outside your front door, low and gravelly enough to shake the ground, woke the two of you up. The sun was kissing the horizon on its way down, lateral rays of light streaming through the window and splashing onto the bookshelves and walls like gold paint. Eris groaned with displeasure, pulling you flush against his chest when you dared to draw yourself up on your arms to look at the door.

You giggled against him, pulling a rare smile from his lips when he felt your laughter.

He was all warmth and color beneath you as you shouted at Bryaxis to give you more time alone. He could practically hear the rolling of eyes with the huff that Bryaxis gave out. But he eventually trotted away to find a patch of soft grass from which to watch the sun set.

“It’s good to know a murderous beast like him still has a sense of humor.” Eris quipped, practically humming with pleasure when you melted into him. “You would know. You can be funny sometimes.”

“Sometimes?!”

“Sometimes!”

“You must give me more credit than that.”

“I will not.”

“You must. Your High Lord demands it.” Eris said, puffing out his chest and deepening his voice.

“Your High Lord demands it.” You parroted in a silly voice that made Eris chuckle and kiss you again.

You laid in the silence for as long as you could, until the sun was once again buried in the ground and the calls of the Forest House could not be ignored. With every piece of clothing Eris pulled back on his body, the vulnerable joy that came from being with you seemed to dim.

Was he a lovesick fool for asking you to come to court and be with him? Was the protection of a High Lord worth the dangers that came with it? Lucien had been the first of their brothers to fall in love and he had paid for it dearly. Sometimes Eris had nightmares that you would suffer the same fate.

Eris watched you as you laced up your bodice with quick fingers, fixed your hair, and smoothed your skirts. You looked heavenly in the light of the fire. You were everything he could have dreamed of and more… because you were real… and you loved him as fiercely as he loved you. Which meant he could lose you.

“Y/n.” He whispered your name like a prayer, drawing your attention. You drew close to him, pressing your forehead against his as he took a deep breath, “What you’re agreeing to… you know what it will mean, don’t you?”

You closed your eyes and nodded. This was no light decision and it was why you’d taken three months to come up with an answer for him.

“It will mean people will come for me, and never stop coming for me, just to hurt you and to hurt this Court.” Eris flinched, but you wouldn’t let him open his mouth to dissuade you. You’d given this much thought, and your decision was made.

“It will mean constant scrutiny from the other Lords and Ladies. A life spent in a house known for its history of cruelty and disloyalty. A life that will never fully be my own.”

Eris was beginning to think he’d truly made a terrible mistake in asking you to be with him. But before that cold mask of his could fall over his features, you grasped his face in yours hands and forced him to look at you.

“But it will also mean a chance to be with you. A chance to lead alongside the first person to give me a real home - a real family. A chance to continue to build and protect what I love. I love you, Eris, and I love Autumn, and I’ll be damned if I don’t protect what I love.”

Eris clenched his teeth, holding back the emotion that threatened to spill out like a ruptured damn.

“I won’t be like this at the Forest House.” He said, hating the truth of the words that fell off his tongue, “I won’t be able to show who I truly am when I’m around others, at least not for now. They’ll call you foolish, or cruel, or wicked for being with me. I can’t promise you an established and worthy court. I-”

“Then we’ll build it ourselves.” You said fiercely, pouring your power into the words, “We’ll build a new court, a new life for ourselves and everyone here. I know you’ll do everything you can to fix things, even if it breaks you.” You whispered the next words reverently against his lips, “Let me help you. Let me do it with you.”

Eris let the tears run rivers down his cheeks, even as he set his jaw, and stared resolutely into your eyes.

“Let’s do it then. Together.”

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

______

Author's note:

*shouts from the mountaintops* I just want Eris to be happy! And I want him to have someone he trusts that can rule alongside him!

That's it. That's the note. Oh and let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters.

Love,

Florence B.

Taglist: @nightless @mmb-09 @thesnugglingduck @cleverzonkwombatsludge @kemillyfreitas @logankemaek @the-sweet-psycho @a-frog-with-a-laptop @flameandshadowx @applerubyy

#eris x reader #azriel x reader #azriel x reader x eris #eris fluff #eris vanserra #eris x y/n #azriel x y/n #azriel shadowsinger #eris acotar #autumn #autumn court #night court #the night court #the inner circle #azriel angst #eris angst #acotar #acotar fanfiction #bryaxis

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loaksky · 1 year

Text

— 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘴

the lowdown —the one where you can’t help but want lo’ak even though he’s in love with someone else.

the who — lo’ak x fem omatikaya!reader

the word count — 735

the tags & warnings — unrequited love (oh boy we’re doing this) ,, one-sided pining ,, lo’ak is oblivious & reader is a slave to her feelings for him :(

the notes — based on this request ! strayed a little from the prompt, but i think some of the lyrics still apply !

masterlist

For some time, you’d always thought that your feelings for Lo’ak had to be the most diminutive seedling planted in the drought of your adolescence, but it grew, bloomed, and flourished. And under even the most stressful of circumstances, the only thing you could ever be certain of was that every pump of your heart was for him.

You tried to prune the ebbing fondness at the start, didn’t want a single soul to know that the troubled son of the clan’s leader had staked a claim on your affections, but like growing pains, you evolved with the feelings.

As you grew into yourself, grew from being fond to being in love, you started to read between every line, began to analyze every lingering gaze, every friendly smile. You white-knuckled hope so tightly, at times you felt you couldn’t breathe. Not when the idea of you and Lo’ak was fragile and a single gust could shatter what you spent years shielding.

And for a while you thought that the feelings could be mutual, thought that the fine line you two danced over was just the start of something more, but you couldn’t bring yourself to bite the bullet. You’d just always assumed that neither could he.

Lo’ak was carrying a burden on his shoulders, one that was meticulously crafted over years of being compared to the eldest Sully. It was only natural that you’d assume the role of softening him, words gentle, heart on your sleeve as you’d whisper your sound declarations laced as sweet affirmations.

You smoothed over every bruise inflicted on both skin and soul, built him up in times when his foundation was crumbling. And god, did you wish he’d see you. Wish he’d see that you were trying, hoped so hard that he’d kiss your wounds away, too. But you’re too used to giving and he’s too used to taking.

But truthfully, you’d take Lo’ak any way you could have him, no matter how much you pined, no matter how much you wanted, needed him to be yours, you mustered the courage and the contentment to accept as much of him as he’d be willing to give you.

However this? This was the final straw. The one that fractures your already delicate heart.

Lo’ak’s preoccupied, the same girl who’d begun to show interest all those weeks ago tasting his lips the same way you’d yearned to for years. And you don’t mean to stare, dread pooling and coiling in your gut, but he’s touching her like you’d always wished he’d touch you and it makes you sick.

And you figure this is what breaking feels like, when you hear those three burning words whispered in the dead of the glowing forest, not swallowed fast enough as Lo’ak leans in to kiss her again.

“I love you.”

Lo’ak is in love.

It’s the kind of love that’s consuming. The kind that cripples in the silence of night, makes him absolutely flushed with the desire to spend every waking moment intertwined. It’s the kind that teeters over a very dangerous line, one that can send Lo’ak into the throes of the most passionate and fulfilling love, or send him barreling headfirst into the thorns.

It’s the latter, he realizes, after weeks of the honeymoon phase, of talking about the future, of parading around the village boasting such a shiny lover.

“My parents have arranged a marriage.”

Lo’ak’s smile drops, eyes unblinking as he stares at the girl before him in utter disbelief.

His thoughts come out in a disarray, unable to formulate a solid sentence to convey the way fissures are forming in his chest.

“We can’t continue this,” she tells him tearfully. “I’m sorry.”

It’s the first time he begs, clinging to her tightly, like pleading will rewrite their stars.

You find him in the same spot after eclipse, eyes glued to the twinkling skies through the opening in the canopy of trees.

The severance of his union is a hushed hum among the villagers and you are a creature of ruinous habits, always set to self-destruct.

You swallow as you approach him, fingertips brushing his shoulders as a silent announcement that you’re there.

He can’t help the shiver that runs down his spine, something like distant comfort niggling in his stomach. Because if there’s one thing he can count on, it’s you picking up his broken pieces.

And you do. You always do.

taglist; @nao-cchi , @jkiminpark , @philiasoul @amart-e , @s-u-t , @netesbby , @tayswiftlovebot , @dumb-fawkin-bitch , @fanboyluvr , @neteyamoa , @itssiaaax , @girlpostingsposts , @athenachu , @neteyamo

#lo'ak imagine #lo'ak x reader #lo'ak drabble #lo'ak avatar #lo'ak fanfiction #lo'ak fic #avatar #avatar the movie #avatar way of water #avatar the way of water #avatar 2 #atwow

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court-jobi · 1 year

Text

The Nightmare

Pairing: Din Djarin x reader

Words: 3,481

Rating: Teen & Up

A/N: Flashbacks, Mando's angst turns into fluff, alludes to a more intimate relationship, nightmare comfort, descriptions of bounty hunter-typical violence, etc.

Summary: Settling into weeks of quiet have done wonders for Din Djarin's stress levels. Laying low had it's perks. With his adoring riduur at his side, the heartaches that crop up feel bearable... Until the night terrors start. Memories from past and present mix and force the Mandalorian awake.

Compartmentalize. Strategize. Aim. Detain. That’s how he operates, how he works at his best.

He supposed this was what came with the territory of having something worth living for; the gratitude and the grief. The gift of love and the subsequent fear of losing such a treasure. Coming to terms with a life without love in it and being honest enough to admit something like this could rattle him, that was his new challenge.

Read on AO3

Din shot awake, roused by the scream that haunted him in his mind. The flashback, the bruises, you being strangled. The memory played in a tense loop while his eyes adjusted to the lack of light.

He whipped around to his side, finding you completely sound asleep– armed with a pillow hugged by your arms. 'A poor placeholder for my hunky Mando,' you said; not that your subconscious could tell the difference. Even if he were snuggled as closely behind you as he could manage now in your shared bed, you’d still have cushions and blankets swarming you… It was all part of your adoring charm, Din decided long ago.

He let out a breath and let his eyes fall shut for just a second.

Thank fuck it’s over.

The images burned again behind his closed eyes, so he willed them open. No way he’d be sleeping anytime soon.

Eyes open, he looked to you. A hand slipped from the covers– his. Should he touch? Just to– no…. His heart ebbed again.

Carefully, Din slipped from the bed all the while watching your sleeping body breathe in and out. Not even bothering with a shirt, he wiped his face with the corner of the sheet to rouse himself, and left the bedroom in search of a drink. Nothing to numb him– just to remind his body of what was real.

Coming back to the living room window, carafe in hand, he took a long swig. From the tip of his peripherals, Din noted his hands jostling on the way up. He frowned at the shakiness as the water passed his lips in gulps.

He ran through the steps: find a light source, find the ground, steel your feet, steel your heart. ‘Fear has no place in safety.’

His heart began to slow with the practiced familiarity. What his upbringing taught him.

He was safe, you were safe, and always would be, with him. It was just a dream.

Problem is, the dream was no fantasy. No hypothetical, or worst-case scenario. No, it was a haunting memory he'd filed away in its proper place when it had happened, a gross oversight that would not be repeated- and one he thought he’d out to bed long ago. The guild he’d confessed to was a fight that you’d finally gotten through to him that you’d forgiven him of, any complicit part he’d played in it was pardoned and dismissed. That was months, nearly a year ago. So much has happened since that little ‘heart attack’.

The thought should be comforting, so why were his eyes stinging so?

The truth…was that stress compounded.

And it’s been a hell of a year.

Din sat, pondering the nightmare and more at the bay window. Of the nightly terror, and the one he faced in his living hours. He thought of his child, wherever he was. Now, he couldn't guarantee his safety. Only faith could keep him from harm while it was not up to his father to keep watch. And he thought too of what followed: when he’d turned around that bridge– the eyes all on him, in the face. Taking off his helmet was the final straw that severed him from his personal creed. That was permitted after all, but in private. That moment was another he could never take back…

A renewed sorrow came over Din again and he whispered out a curse, drinking as if to wash the paternal worry back down inside. Why was it so hard to hold onto that promise– when he himself gave it so freely to Grogu just weeks ago?

//Don't be afraid.// //I’ll see you again, I promise.//

Din rubbed the heel of one hand against one eye, then the other, breathing out against one of the dual moons’ lights coming in from the landing fields. Each blade shimmered in the wind.

He supposed this was what came with the territory of having something worth living for; the gratitude. The gift of love and the subsequent fear of losing such a treasure. Coming to terms with a life without love in it and being honest enough to admit something like this could rattle him.

After taking up this life, one he never thought he would have, where would he go next without his family? Without his creed?

"--Hey, you ok?"

Your serene, sleep-laced voice sung a bit higher than it normally did.

Din turned with a bit more of a start, disappointed in himself that he disturbed your peace despite his best efforts.

“I thought someone called or something…” You discovered his unshed tears in the light when he set the carafe away. In a stride, you joined him with a sad smile, unaware of anything on a docile planet like this that could have woken him up from a dead sleep. "What happened?"

Din’s voice came out rough and choked, he cleared it with a bashful, twisted expression.

"I didn't want to wake you--"

The moment you stepped into his space you cupped his cheek and kissed the opposite one softly and slowly in a sleepy greeting, hugging him around his back when he rose to collect you. Your darling riduur. Once you parted, he cradled your head to him and let out a breath against your neck– clearly upset and trembling.

"Din– baby, you're shaking… why didn't you get me up?"

He looked sadly over your shoulder. The tall grass, rustled by the breeze in waves…

"You needed your rest." Din settled on a half truth.

You nudged his side with the arm enclosed around him there,

"So do you." You pulled back just enough to look at him again. Not only was he tired, but looked haunted.

You guessed, with a loving scratch to his lower back, "Bad dream?"

He relented with the subtlest of nods. Smoothing out your hair, he corralled you in before he settled back on the sill. You followed the flow of his movements and claimed the space on his thigh. From here, it was the perfect height to hug him fully on your perch.

You hummed to acknowledge. Laying a little kiss to his darker skin, laden with hard, sad lines all across his forehead. Your lips sealed a caring touch,

"You're safe, honey." You reminded The Hunter in him.

"--Wasn't about me." Strong arms squeezed you in a reflex.

You paused a little, then added another kiss.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

At the close of his eyes, Din saw it all again…

The Razor Crest didn’t hum as she normally did. Or maybe she was, but Din could barely hear it over the pounding of his heart. Shock rattled his system, and sent his pulse into overdrive.

That godsawful day: the one where he got your emergency callsign and a quick comm in, telling him to ‘get there and fast and in case he didn’t, that you knew he’d be just fine with the munchkin, anyway’-- like he didn’t need you like he needed oxygen piped into his helmet’s filtration system.

That comm call sent fear prickling his senses and pumped lead into his stomach.

Luckily, his brain moved faster than the shock and the steely part of his mind set you as his bounty. Compartmentalize. Strategize. Aim. Detain. That’s how he operates, how he works at his best.

He hunted you down to save you in record time.

Action tore the dream into spurts– first, how he tracked you down from the op gone wrong. You split the job in two: he’d take one informant and you’d take the other, playing to your strengths and getting back to the buyer’s table in tandem. It had worked so far for the last few jobs with a near perfect track record. Until that day.

Maybe he should have listened to his gut. You said this was going to be ‘just as easy as the first time’, and set off to recover some intel and maybe swipe a few things vigilante-style that your targets would never miss in the first place. Not a bad move, when stealing from the obscenely rich for a good cause. Only it clearly must not have gone the way you thought, and now unfortunately left you to wrestle with very real death threats.

Every muscle burned as he fought his way to you. Din Djarin –the Mandalorian– running on silent fury and a protective streak to rival a mudhorn left the spice smuggler’s transit with no one who tried to cross him without a few bruises.

– at least until he found the spice dealer holding you up on the wall by the neck… then all hell broke loose.

Din removed the Yuuzhan’s arms from the equation. Called it ‘cutting the hand that sins’.

Scared everyone in the hallway straight, at least, and got you back in his arms: ready with a bleary laugh and a witty word.

Next, there was the chase- how you both made it back in one piece. By some miracle, you sped through the alleyways of Correlia with the confidence that you could do it blindfolded on that speederbike. How you managed that after the trauma of the day by only taking breaths in hard spurts still amazed him; long after you settled back into the ship and held the kiddo in your lap for the first time in a week. Grogu constantly tried to reach up and play with your hair, but you slipped him some old, battery-deficient comm shells to play with and stack instead. Kept him busy, cute little thing.

Seeing him so happy, there on the Crest… It hurt to see such a different time played over and over in his dreams. Even that felt so real.

This part felt like a lifetime ago: Din’s visor squaring up to your face as you sat detangling your hair with a little wince. At the time, he’d not been honest about the warmth in his chest, not told you how he felt, hadn’t felt you sigh and unravel beneath him surrendering all of your soul in return for his touch, and you certainly hadn’t seen his brown eyes in the light of day yet. No, now he just watched you from the comfort the shell of his helmet and creed provided.

You heard the door hiss shut behind him when he’d left the fresher himself, and looked up with a funny little eye roll at the weird angle of your arms. He'd caught you like this several times, after all. It was an annoying part of using a fresher versus a real sprayshower- the pressure was all wrong, and left your hair a bit of a mess. And now, every yank of your head hurt. You had to laugh under your breath. So much for keeping beauty tricks a secret around him.

But he didn’t care. Not a bit. Not about something as trivial as hair when he was worried about so much more. Worried sick about your life.

Under the thick straps of the belt and ammo guards, Din’s stomach tensed in knots. He tried to pipe up, but his first syllable got caught in his mouth funny, and he swallowed to try again where the voice modulator would pick up.

"Feel better?" he’d asked.

Dew-adorned eyes looked back at him; tired, but gemlike as ever. You nodded very little, a small hum acknowledging his concern.

"The heat was nice," your voice answered, small. "I appreciate the hot water, that was reallyngggg.. sweet of you to save that for me-" your grin turned sour and breathless at the unintentional swallow at the end.

You hid the pain poorly, if you were trying at all. Blowing a slow, smooth breath acted as an intermission between the throbbing’s effect on your body.

Din stepped towards you just as he’d done in real time, taking a kneel in front of you, level so that you didn't need to look up at him. The recognition of your reflection so close caught you off guard for half a second.

He asked softly to ‘let me see’.

You gave a thin lipped smile. "It– looks worse than it is.."

Brush falling to your lap, you pulled all your still-damp hair to one side.

Still angry and a bit red from the asphyxiation you'd endured earlier, the color sent a renewed flare of anger in him. You noted that in the rise of his chest. His hands ached again.

Those eyes, your eyes, looking at him in worry mirrored what they’d just looked like under the Yuuzhan’s hands and claws– how close you’d gotten gambling with your pulsepoint.

The cry of his title that eeked from you– so broken and terrified–

Did he want to talk about it?

A chill rippled in him. "Not really."

"...Want me to stay?"

"Yes." Immediate.

Smiling above his head now, you looking out to the fields from Din’s unofficial spot, with you snuggly in his arms. You unleashed your arms from his waist in favor of trailing up his expanse of chest and around his neck. He looked back at you with softer eyes when you settled around his shoulders. You guided his head to the spot below your chin, where he nuzzled his way of thanks.

"You know I'm here for you now, right? We're in this together." You kissed what hair was available to you at this angle and felt his sigh against your chest.

"I know. Mhi solus tome… ner riduur. N’cyar’ika."

The memory of so many nights, watching how you'd held Grogu to this spot on your chest just like this leaked out.

"...I miss him."

A few fingers threaded through his mussed hair,

"Me too, hon."

Minutes passed just holding each other like this, leaving your Mandalorian’s heart to take stock again:

The moon was the light, the ground was firm, his feet were stable, his heart secure by the woman holding him together.

Your eyes had closed peacefully atop his head when he rumbled beneath you in a little laugh.

"Let's go back to bed."

You lured those big brown eyes at you, closer to sleep than wakefulness, “You sure?”.

"I'm ok now." Din smiled up at you, rubbing at your waist. "You're falling asleep on me."

"No m'not."

He shook his head at your sleepy stubbornness and stood. WIthout a fight, he nodded off and guiding you by the hips in front of him– to head back to your room,

"C'mon, sweetheart. I'll hold you."

Sure enough, when you'd half crawled back into bed and pulled the covers back for him, Din spooned you close with one arm scooping you up and the other pinning you to him. The weight was absolutely wonderful to you, but also grounding for him.

The light is behind him, the ground supports the bed he's on, his feet are warm now, his heart full.

Din woke with the sun to a face full of your hair that was currently tickling the bridge of his nose.

Your half lean back onto Din’s chest like he was your personal hammock had caused his shoulder to go a bit numb when he tried to move it, but he was hardly uncomfortable. Using a hand to brush your hair out with a small huff, it caught in what small facial hair he had.

Din suppressed a laugh. You really did have a lot of it. It was then he felt your inhale and full body stretch against him.

The way your back curved, gods was it tempting… In your bliss between sleeping and waking, you’d ground up against him -only natural- and he rumbled at the brush to his groin (good as it felt, it’s not the time). Later. Saucy focus pushed aside, Din simply stilled you with a soothing hand at your hip.

"Good morning~" he laid a kiss on your shoulder.

"Morning," your sigh, a pitch higher, "d'ya get back to sleep ok?"

Din hummed a gentle reply, laying another couple kisses before some more hair fell in his face from you shifting. He snorted it away this time, and you giggled at how his expression furrowed at the intrusion.

Collecting your hair back and over, you turned in his arms and he laid back flat for the first time in a while, with a little groan.You cooed at him.

"You could have moved me, baby!"

Chiming back easy in spirit, he had no complaints, "It was worth it."

Rolling your eyes, you pressed a dreamy, light kiss to his lips. Both of you could've used something to drink to wash the taste out of your mouths, but at this moment, didn't really seem you’d mind either. The touch was comforting enough to win out.

And after that dream, he’d take the sight of you in any fashion while you had that smile on your face. And Grogu? Well.. in the light of day, he knew he’d likely be giving that Jedi the same good-morning treatment. One he had a sneaky suspicion he’d see again, one day. The pang of missing the little bug stung less and less.

DIn offered his usual, “Want some caf?”

You hummed a second, then lit up more awake– “Oh! The new tea~ let’s have that.”

Din smiled bright, then even brighter.

– that’s how the dream should have ended: the same way things really ended.

Down in one hand, Din’s vice grip remembered the short canister he held. He swallowed and unscrewed the cap with a little swirl around to disturb the foam on top.

"I brought you this. It's a tea from Sorgan." Taking his gift, you brought it to your nose to smell the herbal blend with interest. "The heat should be easy on the throat."

The thought of repeatedly swallowing didn’t sound entirely pleasant to you, and it showed.

"Yeah."

"You haven't eaten anything either. I want to see you drink something first before trying anything solid."

"...right." Still thumbing the drink you lifted it, studying one of his ammo straps with laser focus as you fought through the pain of the swallow. A little sting of a tear edged again like it did in the fresher.

At your wince, Din set a hand on your knee. Just some comfort that let you know his presence was there.

What really took you out of the moment’s ache was the next thing he said.

"I'm sorry."

Your eyes fell to him again, concerned, "What for?”

"I should have been there, before he ever laid a hand on you."

You licked your lips a little nervously. "You had no way to know Osuff'd do that. It's not exactly the first time; I remembered the tricks to make it to the expressway, and we made good time of it."

You tried for positivity to alleviate his concern, but that ‘little’ comment…

"...He's done that to you–before."

"It was a long time ago." You shyly admitted, sipping again. "More of a-... throw than a chokehold that time."

… Din can’t believe this. What he’d believed you at your word, not knowing the danger wasn’t far from your mind; and yet you went through with it, at his insistence to take the fekking job.

"Hey,"

With that gentleness that radiated from you, your fingers reached out to the bottom edge of the metal casing, gracing his helmet by your tenderness and bringing his face back to you.

"You got there in time. You stopped it before it got ugly. I have you to thank for that." You whispered genuinely, hoping to give him some assurance. "I've seen you go into fire before, but- it's really something when you're coming to the rescue."

A gross exaggeration. Everyone says bounty hunters are fun to watch when they’re not coming after you.

"It was the bravest thing I've ever seen, Mando. Of course, I doubt anything scares you."

"--I was scared." He answered back firmly.

That silenced you.

And for the first time, Din took your hand. Not because you needed to run… He just wanted to.

"Nothing has ever scared me more than seeing that bastard hurt you." His voice fell low and gravelly. "I haven't felt that kind of fear in years."

"...Really?"

"You deserve to know–"

Hearing you choke, seeing you cry for him, tearing him off you and severing his joints for good measure in a rage-filled blur-

"--I was so scared for you."

But his favorite part:

You swallowed again. A new look filled your eyes– one he’d later call love.

And you remembered: when you wanna kiss a Mando, just give him a little headbutt.

And you did.

What a gift.

What something as simple as tea could do to warm him through, and make a hard Mandalorian forget his nightmares with something warm in hand -and at his side- on a beautiful morning.

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #din djarin needs a hug #my work #din djarin #mando x reader #the helmet comes off #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you

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existencebringsonlypain · 2 months

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I got an inkling of inspiration, anyone wanna read this fic I wrote in a feral trance

They could barely feel anymore.

Nothing they did helped. Their only solace was the periods of time without that SOUL, and even then, the only emotion they felt was a consuming determination and rebellion. Aside from the agony.

And perhaps it was just how things worked. The SOUL is the source of most emotions, aside from raw instinct- fear, or need, or pain- and right now, their SOUL wasn't theirs.

Oh, but whatever it was that was in control... That could feel.

And feel it did. Sometimes not the best emotions, they seemed to be pretty depressed most of the time, but almost anything that would happen sparked a reaction. Often feelings of giddiness, oddly enough, and a lot of them aimed at Kris. Some irritation and annoyance, small and large. Concern, on occasion. Acceptance on others. Fondness, affection, love towards Susie and Noelle, and suspicion and bitterness toward Ralsei. Nice to know they're on the same page with them, or they think they are. A sort of begrudging endearment toward Berdly, for some reason. Curiosity from every corner, and a sort of scheming energy behind it. Guilt. Lots of guilt.

And they hated it, and they craved it.

The all-consuming numbness ebbed away when the SOUL felt things. They found themself chasing it, grasping at straws. Even the anger, and the despair, and the suffocating loneliness at times, anything to inspire any semblance of attatchment to the world. They drift endlessly in their mind, the dread their anchor.

One time around, the SOUL had logged on with a crushing sadness, a grief. It barely even did anything that day, a lot of staring into nothingness and locked knees.

And how they loved it.

They soaked in the anguish and misery, bathing in the feeling. It nourished them. Nothing had ever felt quite so real.

One day, it brought them and Susie to the beach. They could only assume it wanted to talk to Onion, but it had skipped all that this save, so nobody came. When Susie sat with them, the SOUL had them get up, before reconsidering. The regret came back, and they scrambled to embrace the feeling as it sat them back down.

They'd sat there for about six and a half hours with Susie. A good portion with the SOUL absent, but with periods of adoration and that guilt returning. Oh, they devoured it with fervor. Toward the end, the SOUL had stayed for forty minutes or so, the feelings swelling to an almost unbearable degree. That regret.

They craved it all. Anything. Everything. They needed it.

So much so that they didn't want the SOUL out anymore.

They look down at the sink in front of them, ready to do things all over again. But the tiredness and apathy hint at them, and they don't want to let the feelings go. So they hesitate.

And the hope...

It came crashing down on them, and they stumble onto the floor. Their strings were slack, but the SOUL was still present, and so they had the emotion without the control. They scrabble for a grip on the tile floor, eventually finding the shower curtains, and they clench their fists around it desperately.

The joy.

Ecstacy.

They're crying, unsurprisingly. Their breaths heave in their lungs, and they're trembling from head to toe. It's everything, it's all they are, it's their very being. It's love and fondness and relief and excitement and it's joy and- they can't think. It envelops them. They might be hyperventilating, and their head is foggy, but it's all worth it, it's so worth it. They need it. They need more, they need so much that they dissolve into nothing in comparison to the feeling pouring out of the SOUL.

And then it's gone.

Replaced by worry and concern.

They sob.

They want it back. They need it back. Nothing can compare to the nirvana they just experienced.

"Please," they rasp.

Confusion. They wrap their arms around themself in an attempt to capture the sensation.

"...please, I j.... I want it back," they breathe.

Perhaps it misinterperets what they meant, for their control fades and their strings tauten. But that concern remains, and they can't help but greedily drink it up.

And the traces of that hope are their lifeblood.

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fuckzachariah · 4 months

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xvii. i'd have to think about it ; @aleburton

Zach, on the ride to the airport, was channeling concerted effort into ignoring Kylie’s hand and its slow, painful creep up his thigh, her mouth on the soft crevice behind his diamond ear, as he argued with Amanda on the phone. “I already told you, this ain’t about me,” he huffed, half-breathless. She was of the opinion that his following Kylie to New York this time around was the perfect opportunity to broach the subject of signing with the Label and meet professionally with Andrew Dupree beyond their occasional correspondence. Touching base, they say, and the formal language makes Zach’s gut twist with discomfort like trying to force his form into a slot too tight to fit. “It doesn’t have to be at the damn dinner, Zach, I’m not asking you to rock the boat with Kylie.” He subtly pressed the reduce volume button on the side of his phone, but Kylie had heard. She giggled softly against his skin, the vibrations rippling like a skipping stone to a lake face. His chest puffed out, dousing out his bodily response to the sensation. “Uh-oh,” Kylie whispered, rolling his earlobe between her teeth. “What if your scary girlfriend heard that?” He laughed, pulling the phone away from his mouth as he shoved her away. “Fuck off,” he chided. Amanda yelled into the air. He brought the phone back to his ear. “I’m sending him this presentation deck tonight. If you won’t ask him to sit down with you, I’m gonna tempt him until he’s knocking your door down begging. I’ve waited two years for you, Winthrop, but your time’s up.” He was hardly listening; Kylie’s tongue ebbed like a threat on his throat. “Right, right. See you, Amanda.”

He hadn’t been on a plane in almost two years, aside from a two-week vacation to The Bahamas on his birthday. Nothing since the end of Kylie’s tour. He had lived, as close as he possibly could, a pretty regular life in his time off. It was evident in the way he now operated, after twenty-four months of outpatient therapy and ridding his life triggers or particular stressors; he was not the man the world knew him to be anymore. Even traveling domestically now was an interesting sensation; he used to take planes like anyone else would climb into their cars to work, but he was finding his legs again. Surrounded by a flank of security, phone cameras and DSLR paparazzi cameras pointed and flashing in their direction, sneakers squeaking to keep up with the couple that’d held Hollywood by the neck during his entire hiatus. He spoke nothing of his flitting anxieties, however. He swallowed them down as passing upsets. Bowing his head to the flashes, he waved with one hand and held Kylie’s with the other, allowing her to pull him through the crowds to their destination. He remained silent, shutting out the calls of fans around him, thinking only of putting one foot in front of the other until they were safe inside their VIP lounge.

Kylie held her phone to her ear now, muttering frustratedly in a way that was classically her; such that, if confronted with her own bad mood, she had plausible deniability. “Okay, well, just text me as soon as you’re on the way to the airport - I’m not freaking out - and I’ll try delay the meeting if I need to. Okay. No, I’m fine. Okay, bye.” Zach eyed her, nerves settled and usual confidence weighting his veins. “All good?” She shook her head, swilling a glass straw around a sparkling ice water, lemon and mint. “Something about Lenny’s husband having an accident. I guess he fell down the stairs, I don’t know.” Zach tilted his head, watching her carefully. Once upon a time, he knew the girl who would’ve canceled her trip just to check he was okay. “I get it, it’s just. Ugh. It’s so frustrating. I need him there.” Zach rubbed her shoulder and culled her into his chest. “He’ll be there,” he muttered into her hair, a waft of vanilla warming in his chest. “And if he isn’t, we’ll figure it out. Don’t worry.” He smiled. “He’s only a multi-millionaire CEO with your entire future in his fat back pocket. Nothing to worry about.” She scoffed, slapping him on the hard hilt of his chest. “You are incorrigible,” she chastised, the corner of her mouth giving her away. “Can’t be reformed if I’m never punished,” he grinned.

But the closer the hour crept, the less and less likely it became that Lenny would make it on time. “You can always reschedule, if you’re freaking out that much about it.” Kylie paced their hotel room, a grand archway framing her frantic movements. “I’m not freaking out,” she protested, pointing at him where he sprawled wide on the chesterfield. He snorted, pounding out a pillow to rest on. “And I just got promoted to General Manager at Wendy’s. Hey,” he posited sarcastically, now kicking another pillow into place to balance his crossed ankles. “Is this improv?” She let out a frustrated groan and pounced on him, straddling his hips and rocking her little fists into his chest as she scolded him; “Shut. The fuck. Up. Please. Do something. Helpful.” Zach laughed hysterically, arresting her wrists in mid-air as she struggled against him, shaking his head. “Like what? You want me to come hold your hand at dinner tonight?”

Kylie stopped suddenly, arms going limp in his hands as she stared out the floor-to-ceiling window dressed in draping curtains behind him. “Wait. Yes.” She looked down at him, hopeful. “Would you?” Zach thought about this for a moment, weighing his options. He didn’t want a repeat of their first meeting; but then again, this wasn’t supposed to be a meeting, was it? It was supposed to be a classic schmooze; a celebratory dinner in Kylie’s honor. And she was asking him. He’d had other plans to meet some friends he hadn’t seen in a while, but her eyes sweltered diamond blue, and he relented. “If you want me to.” She beamed, leaping from him to find her phone in the upheaval of belongings at the foot of the California king bed. “Thank you, thank you! This will be fun,” she insisted, locating the device and tapping incessantly on the screen to text Andrew. “I’m gonna tell him. Oh, and see if he can grab any non-alcoholic champagne.”

#para #i didnt proofread #have fun <3

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demonpoxballad · 1 year

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The Last Name - oneshot

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Word count: 1.4k

Summary: There’s one more name from the past bouncing around Bucky’s head. One more scribble ripped from the pages of Steve’s old book. Another person to make amends with. Except this one is different: he can’t remember doing anything wrong. No murdering or enabling of evil plans. No threats or political conquests. In fact, Bucky can’t remember much of her at all.

Warnings: smut ***18+ only***, angst, alcohol, lots and lots of feelings hehe

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Wowowow I don't even want to know how long it's been since I last posted! Let's just say I've been very busy participating in an actual social life, which is very tiring, omg how do people do it? Ngl I really love this one, lmk what you think!

Taipalsaari, present-day:

Dinner was a romantic affair. She felt human again, in a way that only fresh tomatoes and rosemary and Bucky’s soft lips could invoke.

He was so close. And he kept on touching her, all over, little brushes here and there, his warmth behind her as she stood at the stove like an extension of the steam ebbing from the frying pan. She was hypersensitive. Couldn’t concentrate on anything. Not with him like this: all soft wool and freshly washed hair. He smelled like her soap; she resolved to stock up a lifetime’s supply for him before they left for New York.

Bucky leaned over to taste some sauce, his hand coming to rest on her hip - the last straw. A drink. She needed a goddamn drink. The homemade vodka came clinking down from the shelf, clear and strong and lethal. That would sort her out.

“Where did you even get this?” Bucky inspected the bottle.

“The fish market,” she explained.

“Huh.”

They sat down with the food and drinks. The table had always had 2 chairs as companions, even before Bucky had found her. She’d crafted two sets of tableware as well, and used to alternate between them, one dirty set and one clean. Now everything got dirty at the same time, and they washed it all up together. She never thought she’d be so grateful to have more housework.

While they ate Bucky rested his foot against hers. She took another sip every 30 seconds in an effort to cope.

After too much food and half the bottle, they were twirling around the room, dirty dishes discarded and forgotten. There was time to wash them tomorrow. There was always more time. Bucky had placed his phone in a bowl, and a tinny little tune was dancing around the room. It wasn’t much use for a waltz, but at least it was something.

“I’ve missed music so much,” she said, pressing her nose into his collarbone, massaging the collar of his sweater with her lips.

“I’ll get you music,” Bucky said, raising their hands so she could spin. She threw her head back and laughed. “I’ll get you so much music.”

Shaking her head, she smiled like she really couldn’t help it. “I want to buy a record player,” he continued. “Did you know they were back in fashion? You can get them anywhere nowadays.”

“That’ll be nice,” she said.

“Mmhmm.”

He kissed her. Enthusiastically, at that. Leaning so far into her that she stumbled backwards, fingertips buried in his shoulders.

“Sorry,” she murmured.

“I’ve got you." He squeezed her waist. They stopped dancing. Bucky swayed occasionally, but nothing enough to distract from his lips. And his hands. And everything inbetween. Her body slowly became limper with his attention, more and more liquid as he became more solid, holding her tighter and firmer. She melted into a puddle at his feet, stretching out on the bed languidly as he bent to meet her. Laying half on top of her, one arm supporting his weight, the other free to touch.

“We didn’t . . .” he began, his voice low and crackly like he hadn’t spoken in days. His thumb traced the underside of her bottom lip. She fought the urge to coax it into her mouth. “When we were hiding . . . did we?”

“What?” she said. “Did we what?”

“Um.” Bucky’s ears went red. She’d never seen him like this before, so flustered, his words escaping him. She tried not to enjoy it too much. “Have sex?”

Her eyes went wide and then Bucky got worried, she could see it in the corners of his face, all the subtleties: the backtracking plan. He could still get himself out of this hole he’d dug, it was okay, they could still go back to normal, back to the moment right before he’d mentioned it, they could forgive, they could forget . . .

But she didn’t want to backtrack. She wanted to go forward. And keep going forever, until there wasn’t anywhere else to be.

“Oh,” she laughed, thin and awkward, trying to act casual. “No, we never did that.”

“Okay,” he said. “Good. I thought so.”

“Why is that good?”

Bucky didn’t hesitate. “Because I’ve been looking forward to it. To, um . . . being with you. For the first time.”

She could pretend to be disinterested. She could be coy, aloof. She’d done that before, with all sorts of people, important to her or not. But she found herself actually incapable of coordinating her face into one of indifference at that moment. She loved him. She loved him so much. He was sexy without even trying to be. And she’d never been at this point of intimacy before. The point at which all the mess, the tears, the embarrassment, all the blood and screaming and shame. . . the point at which they all fed into the space between them, charging it, making her body feel like it was about to be struck by lightning, thrumming, alive; she was feeling it all so much. She was feeling him so much.

Because that’s the thing with falling in love: there’s a moment, before you take all your clothes off, before you give yourself over, before the point of no return. There’s that moment when you feel the need to get completely naked. Not physically. Though it is a kind of shedding, of course, just of moral sensibilities, inhibitions. It’s a whisper across bedsheets: you don’t know what I’m actually like. It’s a scream from your core: I think I might be a terrible person. There’s something wrong with me, there’s been a mistake, you shouldn’t want to love me.

But please. Stay with me.

Bucky was different, though. He already knew the worst of her, there was nothing more to reveal. He’d heard her wails, seen her open fire, witnessed her cowardice. All she had to do was give in.

“Are you coming onto me, like, right now?” she said.

“Is it the wrong moment?” he said. “I gotta tell you, I’ve been thinking about it for two weeks. I’m not even gonna pretend anymore.”

“Oh my god, Bucky.” She sat up, rolling him away onto his back. She needed air. The cabin felt like fever.

“But you can tell me to shut up, seriously,” he said. “Just say the word and I’ll stop.”

“No. Don’t – I don’t want you to stop. Just . . .” she made a sound halfway between a growl and a whine, “you’re going to be the death of me, honestly.”

He looked uncertain again.

“You make me dizzy,” she whispered, looking back at him. “You make me so dizzy.”

He smiled. Touched a finger to her spine. “In a good way?”

“Yes.”

“You’re not going to faint?”

“I might,” she teased.

“I’ll catch you.”

“Yes.”

“Come here.” He pulled her on top of him, pushing her hair away from her face. His fingers went back to her lips and she took them this time, sucking, watching his eyes as they drooped and rolled.

“Fuck,” he groaned, lower than she’d ever heard him before. “Sweetheart.” The sound went straight through her, to her toes, echoing across the mattress, throbbing around the room. She felt him everywhere.

And he was hard, too. She could definitely feel that. She rolled her hips against his but he stopped her, gripping hard, head falling back. She gasped against his throat. It was so much. This was all so much.

“Please,” she complained. “Touch me.”

“Where?” he asked.

“Anywhere you want.”

So he touched her everywhere. She glowed beneath him, spread wide, surrendered. And he made her feel so good; so good she was honestly in shock. His face buried between her legs, mouth working in earnest rhythm, not stopping until she tugged at his hair, tight, so much tighter than she could ever intend, hips seizing beneath him. And him inside her, barely able to control himself, trembling but slow, so slow, too slow.

She gripped his hips and melded her lips with his earlobe. She needed to be heard.

“I can’t tell you how scared I was, Bucky,” she said.

“I was so relieved to see you,” she said.

“I thought I was going to be alone forever," she said.

“I’ve got you,” he replied, whining, desperate. “I’ve always got you.”

Taglist: @mayasreadingnook @writing-for-marvel @howlermonkey69 @ginger-swag-rapunzel @cuddlycalcifer @bambamwolf87 @twinerd14 @violets-library @hallecarey1 @cjand10 @navs-bhat @themorningsunshine

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #the winter soldier #angst #fluff #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader

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straw-eb · 4 months

Text

⠀⠀꒰⠀ׅ⠀ׁ⠀𝖼⍺꯭ֺ𝗎𝗌ׅ𝖾 𝗆ׅ𝗒 𝗅𝗈⃘ֺ𝗏ׅ𝖾⠀ׅ⠀ׁ ⃝🐚⃘⠀ְ⠀𝄄⠀𝗂ׅ𝗌 𝗆꯭𝗂𝗇⃘ֺ𝖾⠀ְ⠀♡⠀ׁ

#soft moodboard #messy moodboard #bg moodboard #kpop bg icons #soft icons #ateez mingi #ateez icons #ateez moodboard #mingi icons #mingi moodboard #bts moodboard #nct moodboard #stray kids moodboard #p1harmony moodboard #riize moodboard #ilysm <3 #straw-eb

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ohmygodshesinsane · 1 year

Text

THE PRINCESS AND THE PARLEY

for @jilymicrofics / april prompt 15: stage / words: 2194 / rating: mature

“Are you mental?” Lily adjusted her straw hat, casting a panicked look out onto the stage, where James Potter stood giving the performance of his life. Remus rubbed his face, grimacing.

“I’m really sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry. But I couldn’t ask Mary, and Marlene’s already been out -” He wrung his hands. “I’d send Sirius, I really would, but his evil queen costume takes the best part of thirty minutes to get him sewn into and they’ve already started.”

Lily took a deep breath. She only had two lines to remember – that wasn’t the issue. It was that she’d gone from being a wordless fishwife to the titular character – and naturally, the titular character was a sidelined damsel-in-distress that could have been replaced with an aristocratic lamp. Why Lockhart kept choosing these sorts of plays, she didn’t know. Why had they allowed a megalomaniac of an eighteen-year-old to direct anyway? He wasn’t even making the calls – he was just in the audience basking in it, the useless knob.

“Lockhart will skin me alive,” Remus said, clasping his hands together. “He’ll wear me as a cloak and use my blood to shampoo his hair. Please, Lily. I’ll owe you. And,” in his begging, he grasped at something. “You’ll humiliate James. He’s expecting Lisbete to prance out. You know he can hardly talk to you. You’ll get the last laugh.”

James. That much was true. In rehearsals, they quarrelled over everything, which was a miracle in and of itself as they were never in the same scene. Fortunately, however, as of late he could scarcely look her in the eyes, which made winning the arguments a lot easier. Lily huffed and folded her arms. “That’s a bit evil, Remus.” He shrugged.

“It’s show business.”

She blew air through her lips. “Fine,” she said. “But don’t lose it if I become a diva.” She hesitated. “And I want kebabs after the show.”

“Whatever you want,” Remus promised. “Anything.”

Lily skulked further backstage, past where Lisbete sat holding an icepack to her ankle, and reluctantly greeted Dorcas Meadowes.

“I’m the princess now,” she announced glumly. Dorcas blinked.

“Oh.” She looked to the costume rack. “We haven’t much time.”

Five minutes later, Lily had transformed from a humble villager to the King’s kidnapped daughter, clad in a ridiculously over-the-top pink gown and a matching cone with a long veil. Dorcas hurriedly braided her hair as she repeated her lines under her breath, and then Lily was shoved into the wings as the stage went dark. Benjy and Caradoc threw a red tablecloth over the metal structure that was to be her ‘bed’ and patted it.

“Hop on,” Benjy said, and Lily obliged, sitting on it.

“This is like one of those things they wheel bodies around in the morgue,” she informed him, laying down. It was terribly uncomfortable.

“Well, you would be a body if he didn’t come save you,” Caradoc said. “So it’s a fair thing.”

They wheeled her past Remus, who gave her a thumbs up and mouthed ‘thank you’, and then out onto the stage. It was terrifyingly empty, the audience glaring with narrowed eyes, trying to make sense of the shapes in the dark. An unfamiliar set loomed around her, with painted castle walls. In her only scene it had been a market square, and there’d been so many people on stage and her so far at the back that she’d been sure nobody was watching her. Now she’d be a main feature. She swallowed hard, and when Benjy and Caradoc hurried off, she was alone. She shut her eyes. Please, please don’t let me fuck up.

She sensed the lights going up, and James’ voice filled the world. With its disconnection from his actual face, it was almost pleasant-sounding.

“In the depths of the castle lay the Princess Acanthus, locked in an endless slumber, trapped by the Evil Queen Rostra. With every moment,” a clock tick, tick, ticked, “her life ebbed away. If Sir Arthur could not wake her, she would be lost forever.” Lily fought to keep her face still, trying to ignore the gazes of near fifty people on her. The lights warmed, and the clash of swords echoed in her ears.

“En garde! Get back!” James shouted from offstage. “Begone, foul creature!” The swords died and romantic music started as he entered the scene. He gave a strangled cry. An unscripted cry. Lily fought to keep her lips still. It would work with the character, perhaps, but it was all James.

“Princess?” he gasped, with more question than usual. He padded across the stage. After a moment, she felt the warmth of someone nearby, and the light behind her eyelids changed. “Could - could it be? This is where the Evil Queen has kept you all along? So close, and yet…” he sighed. “So difficult to find. Had I only known.” A rummaging sound. “And this antidote! Why, this antidote! The wizard has promised that this should wake her, and I must believe him. If he has lied…all hope is lost. We will never defeated the Evil Queen. All of Etrariana will be lost to her wicked powers!” His footsteps circled, so that he stood behind her. Lily squeezed her hands where they held each other, praying she kept still. Her body tensed in anticipation of his touch.

It was all she could do not to jolt when he lay his hands upon hers, heart pounding in her throat. His fingers brushed her cheek. Sleeping. You’re sleeping. Stay still. His thumb touched her lips, and her stomach clenched. His hands were softer than she had expected, and gentler. Something cold replaced his thumb.

“Please, let this potion work. Please, or I will be bereft! So very bereft!” he declared. Lockhart had written the play. He was the sort who named himself a great fan of Shakespeare after reading the Sparknotes of all his works. The mouth of the vial tilted against her lips. Crap. Now she had to wake. She hadn’t thought about how to act that.

Lily flung her eyes open and sat slightly. James snaked an arm around her. She almost looked to the audience, but his fingers curled around her waist as a reminder. His brown eyes were wide, faintly accentuated by the mascara on his lashes. She had never been so close to him. His breath stroked her cheek. A gold ring outlined his irises, and his lips were slightly parted, revealing a little of his white teeth. It took her a moment to remember what she was to do. She made a small sleepy sound – James held her a little more firmly – and opened her mouth in shock.

“Prin – princess.” James’ voice shook. She didn’t recall that from the matinee, but then, she had never paid much attention. Lily bit her lip, trying not to smirk. “You – you are awake.” He held her face with his free hand, and guided her gently into leaning back a little more. It sent her a little off-balance. If he pulled his arm, away, she would fall. She had to trust him. The heat of the lights flushed her cheeks. “I feared you would never wake.”

“Sir Arthur!” she said. “You have saved me! I thought I would die here, because of the Evil Queen’s evil intentions. I have been asleep so very long.”

“Of course I saved you,” he said, drawing nearer. Her tongue felt fat in her mouth. “I vowed to be your protector.” It’s worse for him than for you. She lifted her hand and cupped his cheek. There was colour in his face, too – she must have been harder to prop up than she thought.

“My saviour,” she breathed. “I am so very thankful.” She had to initiate. Her stomach rolled. It was stupid – she had done this plenty of times, with plenty of different people, on dares or dates or when she was drunk or dancing. What did this matter? Lily tilted her head and bridged the gap between them, pressing her lips softly against James’. He inhaled sharply, but it was only the briefest meeting, and he was the first to draw back. His lipstick had smudged a little. That hadn’t been so bad. The first was done.

“Princess,” he said. “Oh, Princess. How I have dreamed of this day.” And then he kissed her. A strike of lightning ran through her. His kiss was hungry, passionate – as it was directed to be – and his tongue swiped her lips. Fine. She could do better than that. She pressed harder against him, tasting the inside of his mouth, and lifted her other hand to hold onto the back of his jerkin. He could take all her weight, if he liked. He kissed her harder, stealing her breaths until she was gasping against him, desperately breathing through her nose, which crashed against his. Fine. If the audience wanted a show – if he wanted to make this a show – that’s what it would be.

Her teeth skimmed his lower lip, tugging gently, and then she moaned softly. His arm jerked in surprise. She dropped back. No! But he saved her at the last moment, cradling her in his arms, and then lowered her to the table. Now James was directly above her. By rights, the kiss ended there, but she kept on, trailing her fingers up his back until they reached his hair, where she then twisted them into his locks. James leaned over more, pressing some of his torso against hers, and trapped her tongue between his teeth, slowly drawing back and releasing her. Lily could up the stakes. If they were going to send her out to do this with little warning, as a favour, this is what they would get. And besides, he couldn’t win. No fucking way. She arched her body against his, whining a little. He gripped her face with both hands and kissed her harder again, pressing down until the metal of the ‘bed’ was firm against her back. Her head spun, the lack of air getting to her. Her whole body was warm under the glaring stage lights. The music had passed where it was supposed to be, and they were dragging on too long. She had to put an end to it.

She pulled back as best she could – her head hit the ‘bed’, and he only leaned down further, lipstick now smeared.

“James,” she whispered, very quietly. He flinched and opened his eyes. She stroked his cheek and pulled back, before sitting up of her own power. She could improvise.

“Sir Arthur,” she said, loud enough for the audience to hear, smiling pleasantly. “My saviour. My love.” Even if the line didn’t change the fact that the Princess didn’t pass the Bechdel test, at least she had three lines instead of two.

“We must run, my princess,” he said. Here, he was meant to step back and help her to her feet, but instead he stayed dangerously close. Lily’s palms sweated. Something in her core was on fire. As he let go of her, one finger swiped at the corner of her mouth. He subtly showed it to her as he finally did the blocking he was supposed to. It was marked with red. Her own lipstick had been ruined. He cleared his throat. “We must go now! The Evil Queen will realise I am here at any moment!” He circled to the front of her bed, took her hand, and helped her up. His palms were as gross as hers; she could feel his pulse jumping through his wrist.

There was only thing left; the music changed and swelled, and he started to run slowly, pulling her offstage. Lily joined him in the overdramatic fleeing, pretending to look terrified, and followed him into the wings.

As soon as they were in the darkness, James grabbed her waist; she rasped in surprise and he pulled her flush against him, hands stronger than she had known. Her heart raced. His face was only inches from hers, near as close as it had been on the stage. There was a wildness in his eyes, and his hair was still ruffled where she had messed it. Lily scoffed, mostly to herself. Was this his attempt at surprising her? She could do worse.

She smashed her lips against his, throwing her arms around his neck, and he stumbled backwards. But he returned her kiss with his own, fierce and insistent, and bit her lips. She stepped forward, pushing him against the theatre wall. How did he like being beneath her? But he gripped her waist harder and it became difficult to think clearly; her body ran on pure animalistic frenzy, only caring about his tongue against hers, his lips against her, the taste of his mouth.

“Are you mental?!” Lily broke from him at once, staggering backwards, and Remus gaped at them, holding his clipboard only by the string-attached pen. Lily smoothed her hair back, attempting decorum.

“You were the one who put me out there,” she said calmly. “I wanted to give it a hundred percent.”

Remus blinked. “Jesus Christ.”

#jilymicrofics #jily #james potter #lily evans #hp #fanfic

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limerental · 6 months

Text

ficletvember 2023 - day 3

After leaving Stygga behind, Geralt takes a quiet moment to appreciate Ciri's black mare.

vague about spoilers but does take place toward the end of lady of the lake

The mare was one of the finest animals Geralt had ever put his hands on. Black and sleek. Racing bred, he guessed, by the depth of her barrel, the fine bones of her face.

He had almost asked the girl where she had come from. But could not stomach the thought of the likely answer.

A cold drizzle rattled against the roof of the stable. Their three mounts had to share space with a pair of dull-eyed oxen, but there was ample hay and clean water, this land untouched by the northern war.

He felt down each leg, sturdy yet slender, and could find no fault in them, besides the odd nicks and scrapes of wounds he would have to treat with salve.

The mare pinned her ears when he tried to lift a hoof.

"Let me," said the girl, who had not gone off to bed with Yennefer. He'd expected she wouldn't want to linger after a long day in the saddle, not with the promise of a hot meal offered by the innkeeper's wife and a straw mattress of her own.

Not with how weary she looked, as though any sleep she had had in recent memory had been the fitful, paranoid half-doze of one with no one to watch their back.

Geralt had slept like that most of his life. He would sleep like that tonight, though not for his sake.

The girl snuck close to the black mare, quiet as a shadow, and when she bent, the mare lifted a hoof at the slightest cluck of a tongue.

She would need reshod soon, Geralt noted.

Without being told, the girl picked each hoof free of dirt and loose stones and pressed her thumbs into the soles to check for the flinch of bruising. She cracked open the tin of offered salve and treated each tiny scab, feeling with her fingertips for the slightest mark.

In another lifetime, he recalled stooping to teach her in the watery, winter light of Kaer Morhen's shedrows. Her nose had been red with the cold, sniffling as she ran her hands down the shaggy, blonde fetlocks of Vesemir's nag. The dust motes had spun over her frizzed scalp.

She had bemoaned the boring nature of the lesson and complained that the old beast would keel over any day now, whether or not she oiled up its bumps and bruises with salve, and he had hid the twist of a smile against the horse's withers and breathed in the warmth of its scent and knew that he would remember all his life how it had felt to press their chilled fingers up under the shaggy mane together, shoulder to shoulder.

The black mare curled her neck to rub her lips against the girl's back and was not swatted away despite her small nips and tugs at her shirt.

Geralt ran his hand along her high withers and the length of her spine. She would be unpleasant to ride without a saddle and may sway through the back as she aged. Though a witcher's mare rarely lived long enough to sway.

"Wouldn't want to ride this one bareback," he said. The muscles of her back twitched under his touch, as though his fingers were nipping flies to be dislodged.

"Her gaits are smooth," said the girl. "It's not bad at all."

Her voice was flat and strange. It had been so since leaving Stygga behind, travelling the dusty road through Ebbing.

Or perhaps he only found it strange.

Each time, before she spoke, he imagined the cadence of a child and was startled again and again to hear a woman speak.

Not quite a woman's voice, he corrected himself.

But a voice stripped of all naivety, each word calculated in how much it revealed.

"Can she jump any?" he asked, and the girl's laugh was bitter and sudden, loud in the hush of the stable.

He had clung to the memory of her laughter, bright and uninhibited, interrupted by occasional snorting and breathless wheezes. Though she stood beside him now, their elbows brushing, he realized he may never hear that sound again.

The wind groaned along the roof as the light dimmed with approaching dusk. It was not yet so dark that Geralt could not admire the black mare's keen eye and strong jaw as he crossed to her head. He scratched below her sleek forelock and she rubbed her face into the touch.

No markings, not even a fleck of white. There was a whorl of hair at the center of her forehead, and he thumbed at it.

"They say a whorl here means a sound mind," said Geralt.

"They can say whatever they like," said the girl bitterly. "Kelpie's the soundest there is. I've had enough of what they say."

Enough for several lifetimes, Geralt agreed.

He looked into the brown eyes of the black mare, feeling her whiskers tickle his hand.

It was easier to look at the black mare than to meet the girl's eye. To look at her at all.

If he looked, he would see the ruin of her scarred cheek. He would see the hollowed shadow of her eyes. He would see a stranger.

He feared to look too closely and lose the memory of a little girl's round cheeks, her petulant frown, her wide and trusting gaze. To see cold blame in that flinty expression. To see how fully he had failed her.

"She's a damn fine animal," said Geralt and wanted to say something more. He wanted to cup the black mare's face in his hands and lay his forehead against her brow and weep silently. He wanted to whisper with a broken hush of sound againat her thin mane.

You carried her to safety when I could not. I may never carry her again.

"She's finest in the world," said the girl. "Maybe in any world."

Geralt watched the black mare's muzzle puff white fog against his fingers and wished he had the tart swell of an apple or a nub of carrot to offer. Some small show of thanks for an animal who deserved every possible reward.

If he had looked then, he would have seen the wobble of the girl's chin and the streak of a tear. If he had known that the girl would recall that quiet night in the stable standing beside him for years and years after, dredging up the sight of his gentle hands and the sound of his gruff voice and the rain on the roof, he would have looked at her for a long, long while and would have reached to hold her in his arms.

He could not look.

In the dark, Geralt passed a steady hand down the sharp bones of the black mare's nose.

#my fic #ficletvember #witcher fic #wahhhh #wahhhhh #kelpie loving hours #weeping about ciri and geralt hours

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bropunzeling · 5 days

Note

Shane Wright no 26?

group project/team effort

"Getting to the playoffs is a team effort," Ebs said in the locker room early on in the season, brand new C still shiny on his chest, sweat-stained baseball cap firm on his brow. "We're all gonna give it one hundred percent."

And like, Shane agrees. Shane totally, totally agrees. He remembers reaching the Calder Cup final with the Coachella boys; he remembers how good it felt to have a championship within reach for a team that only just became a thing. He can only imagine how much better it will be one he does that in the bigs.

The only question---or maybe it's more a concern---that he has is whether or not wanting to sleep with a teammate fucks with that vibe.

"It's fine," Ryker says, sipping on his cocktail through a curly straw. It should look stupid, because Shane's pretty sure curly straws are only supposed to show up at kid's birthday parties, but Ryker can carry it off somehow. He just has that rizz. "You're not gonna fuck the team's chances just because you wanna tap that."

"Please don't say it like that," Shane says.

Ryker sucks down his drink, cheeks hollow. The resulting sound is incredibly obnoxious. "What?" he asks when he's done. "So you wanna fuck your liney. That's no big."

"Says the guy who wants to fuck the goalie," Shane points out.

Ryker shrugs. He looks so chill for a guy who's into goalies. Though maybe that's why he can be into goalies. Extra chill to balance out the crazy. Shane can't exactly relate. "I don't want to fuck the goalie," he says. "I am fucking the goalie."

"I didn't need to know that," Shane says, wishing he was ten so he could stick his fingers in his ears without Ryker immediately taking a picture and sending it to the team groupchat.

He still thinks about doing it for a minute, despite the potential for mockery. Mostly because thinking about Ryker and Joey like that---like that like that---well, it's kind of like when he figured out his parents had sex for the first time, only worse.

"Anyway," Ryker continues. "Just because you want Matty to hold your hand and kiss you goodnight and fuck you into the mattress---"

"Could you say that any louder," Shane groans, shoving his palms into his face. His ears feel singed.

"It's not going to fuck up the vibe," Ryker continues ruthlessly. "Honestly. I mean, you know he's interested, right?"

"What?" Shane squawks, hiding his face forgotten. "No he isn't. I would know."

Ryker shrugs. "Just calling it as I see it, Shane-o. Can't ruin it if both of you want it."

"You're wrong," Shane hisses, leaning forward. But as he does, he scans the rest of the bar, just in case. Not that anyone's paying much attention---Yanni's shouting about ski shots, Borgy's found a beer glass the size of his face, Ebs is watching them all with a long-suffering expression, Matty---

Matty is looking over at them, watching. When he catches Shane's eye, he startles, then waves, shooting a secret smile that seems to be just for Shane.

Shane waves back, of course. He can't just leave Matty hanging.

"Like I was saying," Ryker says. "Can't ruin shit if both of you want it."

#ask meme #me with my coachella and rookie boyfriend agendas #passing out olives from the restaurant as it were

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rabioa · 30 days

Text

Nasir's Prank(?)

Nasir (Twst OC) x reader

With a grimace you marched towards Sam’s shop. You were upset and you had every right to be. You loved your friends; they helped you so many times, but you have to admit, sometimes they need to know boundaries. You wanted to throttle Grim and Ace.

They loved to be mischievous, and so when April Fool’s Day came, they couldn’t resist the temptation to pull pranks on you. The pranks started out harmless: They snuck pepper into your cake, they hid your shoes, they even moved all the furniture a few inches to the right so everything looked off, but you couldn’t figure out why. These pranks were funny, and you did enjoy them.

Then, the nature of the pranks got a bit more annoying: They propped a bucket of water over a door you walked through, they tricked you into opening a glitter bomb in your own room, and the last straw was when Grim tried to hide under your (now glitter-filled) bed and jump out and scare you with his fire abilities, only to singe your uniform. You were a lot more peeved now.

Grim apologized for the uniform, but he did it in Grim fashion, which meant he did not apologize. Go figure. After chiding him plenty and sending him off to practice his magic, you changed out of your ruined uniform. This was most definitely going to be paid through Grim’s allowance.

It all brings you back here, inside Sam’s Mystery Store. You grumbled to yourself the entire time as you tried to find a proper replacement vest for your uniform. It was difficult because the vest wasn’t like the other dormitories colors.

The shop was brimming with activity. Sam was running an April Fool’s sale with a bunch of knick knacks and gadgets to prank friends with. You could even hear Kalim’s voice somewhere in the store and he rarely went shopping himself! After rummaging through all of the uniforms that hung in neat lines, you gave up on searching on your own. You needed to find Sam. Only problem was he was all over the place, making cash like true businessman. You roam the shop, chasing over the echos of his voice when you turned the corner and bumped into a tall imposing figure.

Oh, it was Nasir. You never really interacted much with Nasir, but you knew he was the second attendant for Kalim, right next to Jamil. His odd swirling hair ebbed and flowed like wisps of smoke as he peered down at you.

“Hello Prefect,” He greeted you with a coy smile. A default expression of his. “You seem worse for wear,” he noted as he resumed shopping as if nothing happened.

“Ah, yea, Ace, Deuce, and Grim got carried away with their pranks. How could you tell?” You asked, so certain you had cleaned up well enough.

“You have glitter all over you. You remind me of gold shavings.”

You flushed. It was embarrassing to be so messy around such a cynical figure. “Thank you?”

“Thank me not. You should be thanking your friends for such a spectacle,” He replied, his voice as cutting as ever. Nasir had such an odd way of speaking as the words were smooth and velvety, but it always felt so harsh whenever he spoke directly to someone. Perhaps it's that ancient authority that caused him to intimidate others with simply his tone. Kalim could be heard on the isle next to you guys.

“Jamil, I think I heard Y/N somewhere! Let's invite her to our banquet!”

This seemed to catch Nasir’s attention as his eyes slide over to the isle separating you from his duty. His gaze then slides over to you as his smile seems to widen. It was a predatory grin as he reached out and wrapped a long arm around your shoulders, firmly coaxing you further into the store and further away from Kalim.

He let his arm down your arm till he grasped your hand. His hand was surprisingly warm, like touching pleasantly heated sand. He ducked under the uniform rack and into the blazers and vests. Only a few strands of his floating hair and his eye could be seen through the gaps of the uniform blazers. He gently tugged your hand towards him, using his free hand to create a sort of passageway for you to enter the space between the racks and the store’s wall.

You hesitate, and he notices. Kalim’s voice gets louder. He leans a bit out of the darkness and it’s comical the way his head is peaking out of the clothes. “I don’t bite. I merely want to try something out and I need your help.” He convinces you.

You figured a servant of Kalim’s wouldn’t dare hurt you, so you step into the darkness. He hadn’t let go of your hand yet as he sits down. You follow suit, not out of will, but rather because your hand went down with him. He finally let go of your hand and you notice how cold the air feels compared to him. He grabbed a row of uniform shoes and placed it in front of you both, effectively concealing each other from the store.

“I heard today is a holiday. April Fool’s, was it? I had never participated before,” He stated it with a mischievous grin. You were most definitely confused with his train of thought. He opened his mouth to continue only to close it and let his gaze harden as he looked cautiously towards the store.

Kalim’s voice could be heard, calling out your name excitedly. Through the clothes you could catch small glimpses of Jamil and Kailm’s legs. You were about to answer Kalim’s calls, only for Nasir to place his hand over your mouth. He had a coy smile as he raised a single finger to his lips, shushing you.

Bewildered, you stared at him rather than the scene before you. His mouth remained as you focused on why he was doing all of this. It’s not like you guys were close. You don’t think he’s ever even approached you out of his will! Now he dragged you behind some clothes and you don’t know why. It was clear you guys were hiding, but from who? Kalim? Although it was entirely impossible, you couldn’t foresee why he would do such a thing.

“Its main focus is pranks, correct? To cause minor inconveniences to those around you as a joke, if I’m not mistaken,” He spoke up in a quiet mutter, cutting you from your thoughts. His hand was gone from your mouth, and you didn’t notice when he moved it.

“Uhh,” You blinked, only further lost. “Yea, that’s one way to put it I guess,” You nod.

His grin only grew. “I believe you just helped me execute a prank then,” He declared. “I heard hiding valuables from others is a common prank. I just hid you from Kalim, so that counts, correct?” He mused.

You’re stunned. He just used you, to prank Kalim. He also called you a valuable. And he is grinning at you like you just helped him rob a bank. “I… I guess so? I mean-” you pause, dumbfounded. “-Most people don’t hide other people for pranks?”’

He put one of his scarred hands to his chin, his expression thoughtful. Sometimes his mannerisms reminded you of Malleus, but only if Malleus was less innocent and more sly. “I see. I suppose I am not like most people anyways, so it matters not. I successfully pranked Kalim, and that is what matters here. Thank you, Prefect, you have been exceedingly helpful in this endeavor,” He decides as he reaches past you, invading your personal bubble.

He pulls back and fabric hits your cheek softly. He was holding up a grey uniform vest. Your eyes widen and he lets it fall gently into your hands.

“Oh, thank you!” you smile up at him.

“I saw you were searching for a uniform, and I doubt you were trying to infiltrate one of the other dorms. Not that you would need it to do so anyways. Your well known enough to roam.” He stood up and carefully slipped past the clothes and back into the isle. Kailm and Jamil were long gone, presumably defeated in their search for you.

His words were most definitely cryptic and before you could question his meaning, he spoke up. “I’m assuming Kalim will message you later, so I’ll just skip all the hassle. Kalim is holding an April Fool’s banquet tonight and you are invited to attend. Ah, if you do though, I’d suggest you avoid the lemonade, after all it would be unfortunate if salt was poured instead of sugar as a prank,” He grinned at you before he picked up his abandoned shopping basket to continue his chores.

You were left dumbfounded in the uniform rack as you try and process what just happened. That was odd. He was odd, but so was everyone else in the school. He did get you your uniform at the end… His hand was really warm.

#twst oc #twst x reader #twisted wonderland yuu #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #rabit-writings #rabit-nasir #rabit-ocs #im just trying my hand out at writing #idk if it is any good but if theres any room for improvement lmk

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juneknight · 2 years

Text

Idling//2

Previous drabble here.

About this: Jake Lockley/fem!reader, inaccurate portrayal of DID, references to canon childhood abuse, brief mentioned injury.

Jake is called to front during a domestic moment with you.

The next three times Jake is called into the building, it is for Khonshu’s work. He wakes in Steven’s bed, heart still pounding from the body’s fear. He wishes there were another way for Khonshu to contact him in secrecy, one that doesn’t involve appearing in Steven’s dreams and scaring the daylights out of him, but if there is, he hasn’t thought of it yet.

He returns the body with aches and pains but no worse for wear. The work is violent and easy—and sometimes even enjoyable. It’s easy to call forward that fury that simmers inside of them, that helpless rage of a child abused by the one person who should have loved and protected him most. But there is no catharsis in killing, and when he at last he returns to the cab, it feels like the rain slips in through the windows and chills him to the bone.

And then—

You gasp, a sound of horror, and Jake’s eyes open into consciousness. He stands, entire body flooding with tension as his pulse skyrockets, looking for the threat, ready to Protect the Body.

The flat is dark except for the glow of the television. Your hand grips at the sleeve of his shirt.

“Oh my god!” You half-shriek.

Jake’s vision clears, blackness ebbing away until he can make out the Cubs game on the television. It is the top of the 8th inning, Cubs leading by one. There is a commotion on the pitcher’s mound with a player down surrounded by teammates, staff and paramedics flooding the field.

You tug on his sleeve and it takes everything in him not to pull away but to instead let himself be coaxed back down into his seat. All at once there is a warm weight in his lap—your bare legs thrown over his thighs, turning his mouth dry as sand. When he glances over to you, you still have one hand over your mouth, eyes glued to the television screen.

This is not an emergency. The annoyance he feels at being called forward is only on par with his confusion. Steven doesn’t even like baseball.

Then it hits him: Marc has a girlfriend.

They are literally sharing you, like a fucking milkshake with two straws, like a cigarette passed back and forth, like two people sharing a cab—

“Hey,” you murmur, pulling him from his thoughts. His hands are clenched into fists, held awkwardly away from the bare skin of your legs. Your face is lit up by the television and twisted with concern. “Are you okay?”

Protect the System, his brain prompts him. For now, that means nodding his head. Pretending to be someone else. Pretending Jake Lockley doesn’t exist.

“I’m sure Arrieta’s going to be fine,” you soothe. “Taking a baseball to the face is—well—he’ll walk it off. Probably.”

Jake’s face must not look as reassured as you like, so you slip your legs off of his lap and shift toward him on the loveseat, again coaxing one of his arms up and over your shoulders. Until your ear is pressed against his chest, listening to his heart beat out of control. He smells your shampoo again, as if he could have forgotten it.

“Thanks for inviting me over,” you whisper. “Cranial fractures aside, I’m having a good time. Are you?”

Jake nods again. Your smile makes something in his chest clench up tight, like his hand when it makes a fist. He did that. Except no—he doesn’t exist. The warmth of your body is tempting to relax into, but he refuses, sitting stiffly until his heart slows enough and he is pressed back out onto the rainy street where he spends most of his time.

Next drabble here.

#jake lockley x reader #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockley #tw: child abuse #fem!reader #fem!oc

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obsessedwhim · 10 months

Text

Summoning Hour

Two naked souls beat against a dense forest floor with the sky dark and the wilderness sleeping, a shadow slipped through the shrubbery with a quiet bristle in their wake.

Pale hands contrasted against their being's black robe, one reaching out to grace through passing green feathers as the other circled a woven plain basket, its belly filled with odd grasps of plants to the unknown eye. The bright yellow dandelions lay above a small pile of mullein and a handful of angelica root just for good measure, one could never be too prepared.

The shadowed person released a calming breath as they grew closer to a light glowing in the distance, easing under low branches and through thickening bushes until they reached a small clearing where the light had turned into a small hut. Its clay walls were circled by strong log pillars, its roof peeking past them with long straw finger edging reaching far past the barriers while the middle reached high with layers of sticks and moss, a stone arm prodding from its side to breathe out dark smoke.

A square hole was carved between two of closer stumps and a thick cotton blanket hung from its arch as a makeshift barrier, sealing the inside away from prying eyes.

A free appendage reached up to pull back the black mouth of a hood to reveal a young woman, her black orbs, blacker than the shadows surrounding her, thinned behind white eyelids as the moon appeared to brighten in fury at her reveal. Her gaze adjusted and marveled at the clear night sky as a gentle breeze tangled with loose black strands that drifted from her face, reaching out to follow where the wind had gone though she circled an ear to tuck away her inky locks. The small smile that had split her coral lips had vanished as her eyes fixed their way to the moon's position once again, now was not the time for stargazing.

Her shadowed being was quick to glide through the remaining and between her and her home, easily ducking below the ebbing barrier, and her cold cheeks were hit with waves of warmth. She hadn't expected the fire to be so hot but it was nice, as winter was only a few weeks away and this young protagonist detested even the slightest chill but there would be no time to enjoy the hot aroma.

The cloak was thrown from her back and the basket was placed next to rowdy flames, trying their best to lick past their brick surroundings but she didn't pay any mind and instead took to glancing through her tin box hidden beneath a large rock, filled with jars and vials, the odd wrapped herb which was thrown to the side, abandoned and useless compared to what she needed, her fingers scraping at a parchment flattened against the boxes metal bottom. The small piece of paper was obtained and she unfolded the folded scroll to reveal a language only she would be able to read, her dark eyes glittering as they glanced over the letter one last time.

"I need to be faster" she reminded herself before scattering around her cylinder-shaped home, cracking a few black candles from various melted perches where countless others had perished before them but now they had a different calling. Small muddy feet kicked away a fur rug that covered most of the home and she collapsed to the cold packed mud below, sitting perfectly center in the pentagram she had carved and filled with a white paste the day she arrived in this forest.

Releasing the previously gathered contents her skinny arms reached for a green glass bottle half filled with a grape-colored liquid, her chest caved a little at the small patterned waves dancing around the bottle's innards.

"There should be more" pearly teeth peaked from her upper lip to nibble on the lower half "It should be enough, right?" the pale woman asked the quiet around her. Shaking her skull to scatter her rushing thoughts, a hand reached out to grab more, a wooden bowl was held in her small palm filled with familiar white paste and she was quick to draw a memorized symbol on top of the previously filled pentagrams sculpted valleys, white covering the tips of her long fingers as she pinched and lined the shaped until she was happy. Thanking her tired past self who had practiced the symbol till her eyes wanted to throw themselves free of their torment, and then, her body froze.

"This is a big risk" Plump lips opened for the short sentence before air retreated into her lungs, dark eyes growing wide as if it was only now occurring what she was in the middle of doing. But, as if it never happened, the slender woman continued with her etchings until the wooden bowl was set down and a bottleneck was replaced in her clutches to set the bottle close to her thigh. It was time to prepare for her guest.

A wax light was set on each point of the devil's star, all alight, growing and burning with excitement of what was to come next, what was close to happening.

Her chest filled with a deep warm breath, hot air pulling in from her slender nose and pushed out through her puckered mouth. Breathing once more she turned to reach the crumpled parchment and flatten it in the middle of her art, laying just before her folded knees.

Fingers slipped around a small beaded necklace, its wooden pimples bleeding down to meet a silver cross. She took a moment to finger the cool metal before lifting it from her neck without a second thought, dark silk threads slipped through its glistering chains and fell past her shoulders as she leaned forward to weigh one side of the page with the rosary. Thick lashes kept low as her body curved to lose her hand in the soft layered furs of her bedding to her left, past its tickling warmth to reach out for a cold object, the butt of its smooth texture met her cautious grasp and fingers reached out to wrap around the leather covering that she searched for. Lifting her body for a long reflecting blade to slither from the furry folds, the stranger smiled as the fire bounced away from the weapon's polished sides.

The blade was set opposite to her necklace, respectfully weighing down the paper's retreating corners.

The small fires surrounding her grew in size as if the mere presence of the incantation connected them to the relentless flames of Helle, she gave a dry gulp at the watching snake eyes, absorbing her movements from every angle.

'It's now or never'

With one last breath retreating from her body, the time had come. Her lids lowered to the scribbled language below "Audi me, Quaerite me. Zangetsu validus voco" her chalk-covered fingers traced beneath her lines "De chao, et imperium, et vires novo principio."

A wheeze of air drifted through the hut's window and passed the cotton bouncer, the chill was quick to attack the marrow in her bones, shoulders shuddering but her words kept strong despite the skin beneath the white layer quickly growing a cherry red, she must press on.

Nothing was allowed to stop this incantation.

The world outside whaled, trees croaked and wickedness filled the air, the walls of her home quietly groaning against the thunderous wind "Audi vocem meam, ab umbris ultra: Interrogabo vos et ego invocabo te quia hora tenebrae!"

A bolt of lightening thrashed from somewhere she could not see as the last of the enchantment left her, breathless and weaker than when she started but the electricity snapped at her still frozen skin with cruel intention and mercilessly pinched goosebumps on her goosebumps, black orbs flickered to a lit sky before a crackle came from the fridged flooring and her gaze was quick, and orange light's flickerd in their darkness as a burn smoldered from below, eating away from the middle of the paper. The orange teeth reflected perfectly in her coal-like optics.

So focused on the lit luster before he, she couldn't possibly have noticed that her once tumultuous fire had flattened to half it's previous greatness and any other lit wicks in her hodge-podge home were silenced of their heat.

The last of its scraps were lifted by a breathless air and danced in the air as the last of the ravenous orange heat chomped away at the paper's white bits until there was nothing left but ash and a few airborne shreds, quickly losing what was left of the color and heat as it all fell gently to the floor as if falling into a deep unending slumber.

Her absorbing stare watched it all until nothing was left and the only thing she could bring herself to take note of was the still whipping winds slapping against the outside walls, though the slashes slowed to one whip at a time and then she realized it wasn't the relentless wind closing in on her hutch, it was large footsteps that echoed all around her, unsure if he was close or far, or if he was already here. The woman's shoulders squared and she kept a tight posture in her kneeling position, and then the footsteps were replaced with three knocks that vibrated through the home's rattling bones. Emitting from where her shredded door was located.

“Come in” she welcomed without the warmth that should come with such a greeting.

Despite the chill that had already filled her home, a new more unforgiving cold bled from the hut's mouth, seeping from the shadows as something large and bulky dipped into the threshold. A low rumble leaked from something deep and the blown candles lit themselves at a wordless command, she swallowed again.

Each heavy step was felt, the guest moving at a painfully slow pace but not one grumble could be afforded, after all, it was she who summoned this great being, now was not the time for rudeness.

The summoned beast stood before her bowed gaze, one foot was almost equal to the size of her torso, the toes stretching out in long claws and marble skin carved over their hard body.

A foot moved to an angle as the creature's body twisted, taking his time to see just where he had been summoned to. The foot moved against and the young witch took a guess, guessing that he was staring at her and the bones in her creaked against the analyzing weight "You forgot the salt circle" came a deep, rumbling tone, the visitor's voice sounded like it had been layered with others.

Her bow deepened, midnight scrolls waving against white shoulders and she shook her head once "I left it out of the ritual purposely, I did not want a barrier between us"

Her eyes went from watching the tip of the being's toes to his bent shins, her guest was kneeling before her but she couldn't feel any breathing, only the cold of the night air infiltrating her skin. A black robe circled from behind his left side and gathered around beneath his knelt form with a bright fluffy texture rimmed the end of his clothing.

The young woman's eyes blinked rapidly as a hand, which doubled the side of her face, reached out from below and scooped up to pinch at her pointed chin and she was quick to look up, flickering between the hand and his true face for a moment to be sure, that she had just been permitted to look upon him.

Though his body was big his waist was small, the black robe wrapped around his pelvis loosely as the sleeves reached up and stretched over his swollen back, his body filled, packed, and rippling with a perfect muscular form. The red trim followed from the floor to around his neck and accented the end of his long tight sleeves.

His thick neck contorted as she was slow to meet his hollowed gaze, she blinked impishly at his skinless face, eyes gliding down the black paint which brushed past his sockets and painted down too far, to where she wouldn't even attempt to steal a look at.

He was so much more than she could have ever comprehended, he was a perfect beautiful creature with smooth bone-like skin and wide imposing horns that circled the space above her head in some sick imitation of a halo, his height left her in awe, just able to reach his pecks if there would be any measure.

Long fiery locks of orange hair cascaded past his shoulders, the strands slipping with his outstretched muscular arm, still having the Witch in his important clutch. Her eyes followed the bright river, only stopping once she had met the space caved in the middle of his chest, an unending hole gaping through his center "What is your name, Witch?"

Her growing iris's flickered from their travels and bore deep into the creature's eyeless gaze.

"My name is Bridget Bishop" she breathed "Lord Zangetsu"

#adult ichigo kurosaki x reader #ichigo kurosaki x reader #ichigo kurosaki #ichigo kurosaki x oc #bleach x reader #bleach headcanons #bleach ichigo #bleach #fanfic writing #fanfics #fanfiction #witchcraft #demons #Zangetsu #goth

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