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ohheyitsokay · 3 years

Note

Omg I'm SO sorry!!! I'm the soulmates pain AU anon, I was completely aware you were the one with the milestone!! I saw the post through Molly's rb and I was almost completely sure I had opened your blog to send you the ask but alas, the Tumblr app can never give you any certainties. That long-ass message was completely dedicated to you, I still can't quite grasp how I managed to send it to scribbledghost 🙄🙄🙄 Sorry!!! Congrats again, I love you!!!!

for reference a Din Djarin x reader soulmate request where your soulmate feels your injuries and pain

hello, dear heart!

I wanted to say, before anything else, thank you. I've reread your words multiple times since you sent this, confirming they were to me, and they really mean the world to me. thank you so, so much! anyway, your idea is fantastic, I had a lot of fun with this one! I hope you like seeing what I did with your already wonderful thoughts 💕

ps it's well documented that I'm a big fan of sprawling thoughts, so please never apologize for sharing them!

warnings: mentions canon-typical injuries, a bunch of fluff. at least enough for a couple of throw pillows

soulmate requests / follower celebration

There's a short burn on his forearm when he wakes.

Din stares at it, wondering at the dull ache, trying to place the injury from yesterday's adventure when it hits him. Hot and golden warmth, flooding through his chest, thawing his flesh against the cold filtered air.

It's one of yours.

A burn, on his forearm.

And selfishly, indulgently, he pauses for a moment, mind slipping away from duty and expectations to dwell in the daydream of his soulmate.

First, his mind creates an image of a blurry mandalorian caretaker, gently moving around a kitchen in the covert. You stir a pot, tapping the spoon on the side before setting it down. Hearing distant calls, you turn too quickly and oh - a sliver of burn along your arm.

Din wants to help, wants to pull you away from the domestic .... danger, and he rushes forward. Your helmet turns to him and he almost sees it - before his mind can no longer produce the answers he aches for late at night.

The second image is of you, in armor as gleaming as his own, in a thick, unrecognizable forest. The hairs on his neck are at full attention, already subconsciously wanting to shout - but you don't need his help. You're breathtaking in all versions of his daydream - but watching you fight with practiced ease punches the air from his lungs. For a moment he feels self-conscious of his awkward maneuvers and slapdash fighting but then his mind pulls him back. You're protecting someone, or else you wouldn't have messed up - you never do, injuries from you are too rare - but you shove them behind you, shooting an enemy over your shoulder before your helmet snaps back. There are so many - you're surrounded - and a hot, sharp blaster bolt grazes your forearm before your fury is truly unleashed.

He runs his fingers over the burn, almost giddy at the possibilities.

Mandalorians are few and far between, but he's grateful he has a soulmate, and even more thankful you've kept yourself out of harm's way almost entirely, since you'd been connected.

As he dons his layers, the shine of his armor reflects bruises and scrapes littered across the expanse of his skin. His own, from his journey, and one beautiful little burn from his soulmate.

And then they're covered, and the armor is tied securely in place, and he leaves his daydreams in the room as the ship door slides unceremoniously shut.

You hiss at the burn, clutching your arm.

Great. Just what you needed - another injury to add to your impressive collection.

At least my soulmate gets a gift from me this time. You roll your eyes.

The vendor next to your stall is a sweet lady, already apologizing for her steaming pots and pans and offering you compensation.

The credits would be nice, but you could hardly justify taking anything, especially since it was your soulmate's fault your body was riddled with aches and pains in the first place.

Waving your hand, you accept her counter offer - a bowl of her perfect broth and noodles - before retreating. You sell cloth, from beautiful dyed lengths tucked away to sturdy, unstainable blacks, and it was days like today that you thanked your stars for that choice.

There's a thick pile in the middle that you perch on, sinking into the folds as your body cries at you, and you sigh over your soup in relief. The burden of waking to webbing bruises and sprawling scrapes and the more-than-occasional broken bone is eased by your stall - sitting and haggling until the sun goes down. That is, unless there's drama in the market, as it seems there is today.

In the distance you hear shouts, more than those of vendors selling meat on sticks to passing warriors and merchants - the taunts of drunkards.

Someone is coming, and you almost laugh when you see his form in the distance, because he's trying and failing to be inconspicuous. It's impossible, with his gleaming armor, but still he ducks into shadowy spots, forgetting - or maybe ignoring - their inhabitants.

"A Mandalorian has graced our market," your neighbor remarks dryly. They were respected, but it was well known that chaos followed them. You share a look, both wishing you were wealthy enough to conpletely pack up shop. If anything, a logical person would put away most of the stock and hunker down for a few hours. Weighing the odds was difficult: if you were lucky, the chaos wouldn't bother your business, and shoppers might be drawn out, hoping for entertainment and spending as they waited. If you weren't, a wayward burst of plasma or blaster fire would destroy your whole month's stock.

You looked at him again, the Mandalorian kneeling down the street. His form was... almost handsome, formidable but careful. He was light on his feet, seemingly with gentleness on his mind, and it drew you in like a moth to flame. You decided to stay, and hope for the best, your curiosity pulsing like your bruises.

And you were lucky, that day, because he ducked away not a moment later, taking the exciment with him.

Until, he came back the next day, this time on the prowl, stalking up and down the edge of Dicer's Row, one hand on his blaster and the other atop a bulky, wriggling bag. This time, you ventured to stand, folding and refolding your displays as you watched him through your lashes.

And then he made his move, and you sighed, feigning a yawn to cover your disappointment from your neighbor's knowing smile. She shouldn't be wiggling her eyebrows over the box wall between you - honestly his type were more annoying than anything. A crash from the alley confirmed it: there was no way a guy like that cared about his soulmate. The gentleness from before was surely a trick of the light.

Your whole side lit up with pain, the impact of something hard against your whole side and you groaned, settling into your mound again. Any curiosity or attraction was snuffed under your annoyance and pain, and your mood soured like fruit left unpicked on the tree.

Selfish, you thought, glaring as a chicken ran squawking from the commotion. What a jerk.

The next day, you tried to maintain the sentiment, huffing as he wandered the stalls.

Why does he keep coming back?

You'd have thought his time here was over when he'd dragged that lowlife out of town yesterday. But here he was, buying a crock of soup at the stall next to you, and ignoring her comments about how he couldn't eat it with his helmet on.

She had warmed to him, since he'd put money in her pocket, chattering in a way that kept him stuck for long moments.

It struck you as strange - he almost seemed too awkward to leave, like her returned generosity actually meant something to him. A man like him... surely could've just walked away.

But he stayed for awhile, nodding and looking at the spoons she carved in her free time, and you almost thought he was looking at you, too. Then he ducked his head and planted himself in front of you, and certainly he was.

For all the years you'd spent weaving words to sell your fabrics and goods, you'd never been so speechless. The Mandalorian was large, sharp, shining edges and bulky canvas packs tied to his shoulders - he seemed out of place, filling your whole stall, shuffling as he loomed over you.

He asked for soft brown things - children's clothes.

"Of course, I - I mean, yes, just over here -" you tripped over your words, caught completely off guard by the shape of him, the feel of him just an arms width away, and his request. You stumbled from your seat, nearly toppling in your hurry and his gloved hand wrapped around your arm, catching you.

"You're injured," he stated not really asking. It was... overwhelmingly intimate, him knowing, and acknowledging it, like he cared.

"Yeah, my..." you swallowed, trying not to get lost in the dark glass inches from your face. "My self-centered soulmate keeps getting himself nearly killed."

Even with your heart thumping in your chest, you couldn't keep the bite from your words, bitterness having collected over years of nursing injuries that were consequences of someone else's actions. He didn't let go of you for a moment, his helmet pulling back and tilting, like he was startled.

Then he was cautious, unbearably so, releasing his grip like a child freeing a captured creature when it was time. The topic was dropped, and he made his purchase quickly, but before he left, he paused. The Mandalorian's gloved hand ghosted over your cheek, slowly moving a hair back into it's place, and if you hadn't known better, it was almost an apology.

And then, thick cape swirling in the dust, tiny clothes in tow, he swept away, leaving you along with your whole body alight with a foreign longing.

Din felt as though he'd been stabbed.

Hot, hot feelings poured through his chest, spreading fast as fire as he desperately tried to sort through them.

You - you were incredible, fragile and bruised, with the most stunning, determined eyes he had ever seen. Not a Mandalorian, and you had a ... a soulmate, a fucker who left your skin littered with marks, burdening you with ...

He felt panicked, shocked, and guilty, just as he had when you'd told him. It had never occred to him that his soulmate might be there... out there, constantly burdened by his recklessness. His body screamed for attention, something he so often ignored, but this time, he was almost deafened by it.

His feet, legs, arms, chest, heart - all of them wanted him to return to you, in your little fabric stall. To... what? Truly, he hadn't the slightest idea, so his mind won out, shaking a little to try to reign in the muscles that he'd taught to obey him.

He couldn't go to you.

But, he couldn't stay away.

He was back in the market, and this time, he wasn't being subtle about staring at you.

Tall and ... slow, he waded through the crowds, making his was towards you like he was following a careful path.

"Can I help you?" You stood, moving almost involuntarily towards him. "Was there something wrong with my -" he was already shaking his head, hands reaching to make you shush.

Waiting, an irrational part of your mind wished he would touch you again, would place his big hands on your skin and sooth the aches that haunted your life. It was unfair, but you didn't stop it, couldn't if you tried.

Carefully, he slid a single finger to your arm, pushing up your sleeve to reveal the little burn you'd gotten.

He was being gentle. It made you want to stomp your feet, jealously welling up in your heart like bile, bitter and hot. How could it be, that someone so powerful had learned so quickly, wanted to, and he wasn't - he wasn't even your -

Then he moved again, pushing up his own sleeve and your thoughts tumbled over each other. It was intimate, even more than before, desperately trusting, as his skin near glowed in the morning light. And there was a burn on his skin, hairs singled like they'd met the edge of a pot of boiling broth.

You wanted to punch him. This man has spent years tossing his body around like he had one one spare, making your own as brittle as bread crust and - you wanted to kiss him. This man had learned after a single day, the impact of his actions, and had been nothing but kind.

The forehead of his helmet pressed into yours, and the two sides of your mind compromised.

Later, words would come - they had to.

But now, your eyes closed, and you sighed. He had the rest of your life to make it up to you - and he would, you were sure.

taglist:

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms @beautyagegoodnesssize @princess76179 @mrsbentallmadge @horton-hears-a-honk @saradika @zinzinina

#din djarin x reader #soulmate requests #anonymous and elle #elle only posts soulmate rqs at weird hours thats the rule

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sp00kworm · 3 years

Text

SIREN (AMMB): Zadok’s Ending

Chapter 1: Meeting the Band

Pairing: Deep Sea Merman (Zadok) x Gender Neutral Reader

Adult Content below the cut. Dom Reader and collar use.

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A lithe looking figure was draped in oversized clothing. Loose cuffed cargo trousers were covered in chains and topped with a large hoodie and a coat which made your own look positively thin. You frowned before you caught sight of the pale, micro-scaled skin underneath. The white scales shimmered with pearlescence as Zadok glanced around behind himself and touched the water pumps attached to his neck, which were then coupled to a small tank fastened like a backpack to him. There was a sense of worry in his posture as he reached for his wallet to order.

“A chai tea please. And an anchovy sandwich to go.” He ordered quietly as the barista noted it down and carefully took his money, trying to avoid staring to badly at the suction cups and tank attached to him. Zadok ignored her look and stood to the side, pulling his hood further over his fins to avoid any more unwanted attention from the customers and staff. It was weird seeing the confident lead singer to upset and shy about being seen in public. Your staring, however, got you caught firmly in the act. With a rush you turned back to your phone, and pretended not to be looking as his white eyes caught you. A huff sounded but he didn’t move to come and say anything. He turned back to the counter and opened his phone, clawed webbed fingers typing across the keyboard.

Sadly, and awkwardly, you turned back to your table and waited for your food, trying to put Zadok out of you mind. He didn’t owe you anything after all, you were just a fan of the band. The barista was quick to make his drink before she packaged and wrapped his sandwich for him in the red and white plaid paper.

“Thank you.” He rumbled as he took the food and paper cup, “Have a nice day.” Zadok’s webbed fingers adjusted the wrapped sandwich before he tucked it into his satchel and placed his wallet firmly back inside. The singer reached upwards, his pale skin flashing with purple light, to adjust the cups over his gills. They didn’t budge, and so he walked away from the line, his hood up and his head ducked as he headed towards the door, leaving with a soft ring of the bell. You ducked over your food as he turned to walk left, past the glass window you were sat next to. He stopped just outside of the door and pulled something out of his pocket as he sipped at the tea in his hand. You realised it was his phone and as he raised it closer to his eyes you ducked back down to avoid being seen, sipping your own drink before your phone vibrated on the table again.

Thinking it was just another text from Tom, you opened the screen with a disappointed sigh, upset that Zadok had ignored you. The screen lit up again and you clicked your tongue at the incessant buzzing. A message, but not from an account that you knew, nor did you follow them. It was a picture of a figure huddled by a cliff as the profile icon, decked in all black and shielding themselves from the wind. The water looked choppy and you saw the faintest hint of waves in the background. With a confused look, you opened the message.

‘Sorry for ignoring you.’

The second message was not twenty seconds after the first.

‘This is Zadok by the way. Don’t start gawking out of the window at me please.’

Slightly rude, you thought as you looked closer at the obscure profile icon, wondering just how the weird, huddled mass of black could be the singer. Your phone buzzed again before you could give it much thought.

‘Meet me by the Elf fountain.’

You looked up from your phone as the Merman tugged his hood a little higher and tucked his hands into his pockets again. You didn’t see him then as he disappeared into the mid-morning crowds beyond your sight. With a rush you finished up your food and took your coffee to go before you made your escape out of the café and into the street. The Elven fountains weren’t too far from the café and you were eager to know just why Zadok had even spoken to you at all. The fountains were fresh water and housed a few species of pond fish, usually Koi kept for decorative appeal in the gardens. A car slammed its horn at you as you dashed across the crossing at the last moment heading towards the park where the fountains were.

It didn’t take you long to weave your way through the streets and it took even less time for you to manage to find Zadok. He was perched on the edge of the fountain, his feet beneath the cool water. You were sure it wasn’t allowed but none of the busy workers seem to be bothered by the man as he trailed them back and forth. His heavy work boots were shoved by the side of the stone, his socks tucked into each boot. You stood by the gate to the little fountain area for a moment before white eyes turned and found you staring. Zadok pulled a hand free from his pocket to give you a small wave, claws flashing a silvery colour in the light.

“Good morning.” he offered as you approached, his voice soft and calm despite your obvious staring from the gateway.

“Good morning.” You replied, feeling awkward and caught out by his kind greeting, “So…”

Zadok chuckled at you as he pulled his feet up onto the stone, perching his head on top of his knees, “So…” he replied.

“Why did you invite me here?” You asked quietly as Zadok brushed water from his webbed feet, avoiding his other filed claws on each of his toes, “You seemed well, pretty gloomy when you walked in.”

Zadok just watched you for a moment, his ghostly eyes staring at you before his mouth stretched to reveal a wide smile full of thin, sharp teeth, “I tend to look like that when Duncan spends his night crushed against me instead of in his own bed.”

Suddenly, it was like the tension dissipated, like a lightning bolt and smashed right through it. Your tension seemed to evaporate, and you returned his smile, “I can see why that would make you upset.”

“Oh, like you wouldn’t believe.” he chuckled, “I’m sorry for seeming like an utter creep, but I don’t…well I don’t much like public places. I get recognised and its just never much fun after that.”

“No, I understand, I’m just confused about how you uh…found my socials.” You asked as Zadok’s eyes widened in realisation.

“Ah. I see now.” he lowered his head and awkwardly played with the tops of his shoes, “I found the pictures. It wasn’t too hard to find considering the show was last night.” he confessed, “That’s my private account for family and friends.” Zadok reached for his phone and showed you the screen of his page, “I wanted to talk, if that’s alright with you?”

You stepped closer and sat down on the side of the fountain with the singer, “What do you want to talk about?” You smiled as you sat down, folding your hands in your lap as you tried to get comfortable against the stone.

“It seems weird now that I think about it.” Zadok confessed as you sat next to him, your drink clutched between your two hands, “I just wanted to thank you for what you said yesterday. It really does mean a lot to have someone feel so strongly about our music.” You watched as he tucked his clawed, webbed hands away in his pockets before looking him in the eyes.

His white eyes were striking, and you struggled to reply immediately, “You don’t have to thank me for being honest. Your music is amazing, just like you’re an amazing singer.”

“It means more than you think.” He insisted as he reached for his own drink, and pushed aside a small plastic bag, “I’ve spoken to a lot of fans, and, trust me, not one of them has spoken like that. Not with such passion about it all.” he laughed softly as he leaned back to take a drink, revealing the water pumps over his gills. He caught you staring, “They’re more to stop me drying out and hacking on everyone. I find I really need them after shows. So much singing hurts my lungs, so I have to revert back a little.”

“I had no idea you had to breathe water too.” You marvelled at the gills again before turning your gaze back to his pale scale-skin face, “Wait…” You held up your hands, “You sing so much it actually hurts?”

“Now don’t worry yourself!” Zadok bumped your shoulder gently, “Its not bad. Just like human singers need rests from growling, I need my own rest and recuperation.” He chuckled again, “But it is much easier to sing with water, but its not something anyone but a Mer can understand well.”

“Is that why you looked like you enjoyed the beginning solo so much? Because its easier to sing in the water?” You asked, curious and eager to pick Zadok’s brain.

He laughed at you before nodding, his hood sliding to reveal the pointed tip of one of his fins, “I’m surprised you noticed.” he held his drink in his lap, wiggling his wet toes in the cool air, “Its not just that its easier to sing, really…I was born in the ocean, even though my parents have long lived with humans. We still spend our early years in the deep black waters before integrating into society. I’ve always just loved the water. Its always brought me peace. Its like a veil on the audience so I can just be myself.”

“That seems like an odd way to start life, but the more I think about it the more I think it must be nice, to be just you and the water.” You sat back, your palms pressed into the rough stone as you looked at the water, “And I bet it made you an amazing swimmer.”

Zadok paused before laughing again, the noise gentle and soothing, like the sound of water in a stream full of pebbles, “It did make me a good swimmer, yes, but it also taught me a lot about our culture. It made me who I am.” he looked at his feet and the water in the tank gurgled quietly.

Silence fell between you both again, and you sat looking at the little goldfish in the fountain as they swam around Zadok’s ankles and disappeared under the lily pads. It was serene. You looked up and soaked in the weak sun.

“I have one more question for you.” Zadok said.

You looked over to him, “What’s that?” You asked.

He looked around and leaned over, “Is there somewhere more, private than this?” he sighed, “I just…I’m sick of being recognised. I ran into a group of fans on my way here and had to sign a few things. I just…”

“Want a day away from it all?” You asked gently, “I think I have a place in mind.”

Zadok smiled at you, “You’re not planning to kidnap me, are you?” he joked as he took another drink of coffee.

“Me? Kidnap you?” You exaggerated, “I think I would have more luck catching one of these goldfish, and that’s a pretty slim chance!”

Zadok laughed gently, like the sound of water over stone, and you stood from the fountain, holding your coffee as you waited for him to shake his feet dry and put his shoes back on. He looked at his socks and huffed before pushing them into his pockets, opting to instead carry his boots and walk barefoot through the grass.

“So, where do you have in mind?” he asked as he followed you, “Will I need my shoes on?”

You nodded at him, “You’ll need your shoes for now. The city might be okay but I’m pretty sure you’ll get glass in your feet if you don’t wear something.”

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s too fun. I can’t be having a day in the minor injuries unit.” Zadok followed you to the gate before he took his napkin from his coffee and wiped off his feet. He hopped on each foot as he put his sock on and then his boots. Quickly, he tied the laces up before he checked his wrist. A silver watch flashed, and he hummed at the time.

“Have you got somewhere to be?” You asked.

Zadok shook his head as he clicked the sound off his phone, “Nope. Let’s get going.” he pulled his hood back up and hid his face as you exited the park and headed out towards the city’s edge.

“I suggest you keep your stuff close.” You suggested as you both entered into a small, abandoned area of the city. It was overgrown and the small homes here were derelict, with ivy and bushes sprouting out of the windows and collapsed roofs.

Zadok looked up through the trees, “What kind of place is this?” he asked quietly as you both stepped around a couple of mushroom circles.

“It’s a fae pool. A spirit pool of sorts.” You pointed past the houses towards a large clearing where a natural pond glittered with the light pouring through the centre hole of the canopy, “Its protected by the city for small fae and creatures to use and live in. Some species can’t integrate with humans, so these are the result.” You pointed to the rocks where a nymph combed her hair. She turned and saw you both, smiling before she blended into the air and disappeared into a small creek that trickled away from the large pond with a chime of laughter.

“This is amazing.” Zadok breathed as he ran his claws over a rotten wooden fence, touching the ivy which wrapped around them gently, “I’ve never seen something like this before, not unless it was in the actual countryside.”

You smiled brightly as you reached the edge of the water, “Well, its something a lot of people don’t know about. I only know because of the guy I work with. He comes out here sometimes during shifts.”

“Is that the one that was with you last night, the werewolf?” Zadok asked curiously as he laid his bag down by the edge and undid his coat.

“Oh yeah, that’s Tom. He comes with me to a lot of stuff. We’ve been friends for years now.” You answered him, “I saved him a spot at the front since he was just as excited as me to see you guys.”

“He’s a nice guy then.” Zadok smiled, his needle like teeth parted slightly as he turned to sniff the air, “Sounds like a keeper.” he teased.

You shook your head, “Nah. We’re just friends. Tom is like a brother to me. We’ve both been through this before.” You shrugged, “I’m sure I’ll find someone like that though.”

“Yes, I’m sure you will.” Zadok awkwardly added before he changed the subject, “Are we allowed in the water?”

The water was clear enough to see the heavy, dark stones that covered the bottom and you shrugged at Zadok.

“So long as you don’t kiss any Nymphs, I’m sure you’ll be fine.” You joked as you sat yourself next to the water and sipped the last remnants of your drink.

“Oh, I don’t plan on kissing any of them.” Zadok chuckled as he shrugged his coat off and reached for his tanks, “Would you mind…”

“Oh, gosh, sure, sorry.” You rambled before turning around, “Are those tanks hard to get off.

In reply you heard the hiss and click before water glugged and the tank thumped to the floor, “No. It’s not too hard, just a lot of suction cups and water glugging.” Zadok hummed and you made sure to keep turned around as fabric fluttered to the floor, “You can turn back now.” He announced quietly.

You turned back around, clutching your drink between your hands, and looked at the man as he laid on his back and floated out into the middle of the clear water. He was bare of clothes, but nothing was exposed, and you remembered your anatomy lessons enough to know that most Mer’s had slits which hid everything away. Zadok flipped himself backwards and plunged himself deep into the pool. The water swirling was the only sign he was moving, and you walked back to the edge and sat down. Much like he had earlier, you took your shoes and socks off, and plunged your feet carefully into the water. It was quite cool, and you shuddered at the sensation before you wiggled your toes back and forth and swung your feet in the water. A hand grabbed your ankle and you jumped with a squeak until Zadok’s white head appeared. His head emerged and you marvelled at the glittering silver and purple of his bioluminescence. His eyes blinked back their protective eyelids, the third lids sliding to the sides of his eyes as he peered up at you with a grin of needle like teeth.

“Boo.” He whispered before submerging his gills again, his eyes poking out above the water while the slits on his neck and ribcage flared and moved water.

“You’re an ass.” You commented before splashing water at his head.

Zadok flared the fins on his head, the sails on top of his head and one each side shaking in a ripple before they shone with purple light, “You stuck your feet into a pool with unknown creatures in it.” he shot back at you as he laid himself on the incline of the pool, his stomach resting against the stones, keeping his gills submerged.

“Is the water okay for you? Don’t you need salt water since you’re from the deep ocean?” You asked curiously, “You won’t get any infections from it will you?”

Zadok gave you a withering look, “I’ll be fine. If this is a fae pool it will be perfectly clean. They don’t like dirty water.” he wiggled back into the water, “I can breathe fresh water just fine, since this is pure, its even better.”

“That’s great then. I didn’t want to be responsible for making you ill or anything! Considering you have a few more months of touring it would be pretty disastrous.” You smiled with relief.

For a while, you watched Zadok swim and dive. He dipped beneath the surface seamlessly and you marvelled at the glow to his fins and scales as he dove to the bottom of the pond. You could make out the colour of his bioluminescence beneath the surface, glowing through the water as he swam in large circles. As you sat, quiet and still, the sprites seemed to return to the water, and you smiled as a few smaller sprites sat by you in the reeds and grass. A couple of small looking mushrooms rattled together before their small arms and legs appeared and they opened their eyes, trundling over to pick at Zadok’s clothes and shoes before they hopped into his shoe and made happy noises. You laughed at them before a small, hummingbird like fae zipped in front of your face and giggled before settling herself on top of your head to play with whatever she could reach. Zadok surfaced and opened his eyelids as a couple of kelp looking creatures clung to his fins. They flopped back into the water before he could complain but he only smiled beneath the surface, snapping at them with his sharp teeth to scare them away from his fins. He reached and tugged a few of them free of his dorsal sail, the sharp needles tearing a few of them a little, but they didn’t seem to complain as they floated back into the depths of the pond.

“They seem to like you.” Zadok commented as he swam close to the edge, his body bending before he laid his webbed hands in the grass, claws plucking at the strands and snapping them.

“If you come here long enough, they take a liking to you. They just like people who can sit quietly, and who don’t litter.” You replied as you placed your cup into his plastic bag. You hummed as you reached inside and plucked the bottle out, “Did you plan on doing a little more than swimming?” You teased as you shook the bottle of whiskey in front of him.

Zadok plucked it out of your hands and scoffed, “A little more than relaxing…” he muttered, “Something like that. It’s been a rough few weeks, being on tour and all.”

You didn’t know Zadok well, but you found yourself replying before you could stop yourself, “Is it something you want to talk about?”

“No.” he replied brusquely, “Its something at home. Nothing you can really help with.” Zadok hummed, “But some company might be nice?” he asked as he held the whiskey a little higher out of the water.

It was only just past midday, but you smiled at him, remembering that you had the day off work anyway. You checked your phone and nodded.

“Sure. I wouldn’t mind sharing some of that. Its expensive.” You commented as Zadok undid the lid and tossed it into the grass.

He held the drink up before taking a few sips and hissing, “Definitely decent stuff.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” You joked, “As a bartender, I have a keen sense for what makes a good whiskey.” You laughed before taking a mouthful and humming at the burn as you swallowed, “Oh yeah, definitely decent.”

“I’m glad you approve.” Zadok chuckled as he leaned back and floated out into the middle of the pond, his eyes closed as the sun shone through the leaves and hit the skin of his belly. His stomach glittered with blue and purple light from the natural sunlight and you watched the light show in awe before you took another sip of whiskey to dampen the feeling swirling in your gut.

Zadok floated for a while before he dipped below the water and dove to the bottom, the water swirling in his wake. His fins popped back out of the water as he swam to the edge and surfaced, smiling at you before he held out his fist.

“Open your hand.” he insisted, “I have something for you.”

You did as you were told and placed the whiskey down to open your hands for what he had to give you. He opened his claws and dropped a large looking rock. You frowned but span it over to reveal the inside of a geode. It was split some time ago but Zadok’s swimming had cleaned most of the silt from inside of it, revealing a shiny gathering of blue and clear crystals. The sprite in your hair chirped happily before a magpie squawked and landed nearby, eyeing the shiny object up with one beady eye.

“Wow.” You whispered, “Was this at the bottom of the pond?” You asked as you turned the crystals away from the sunlight, so the magpie didn’t decide to dive at you for the object.

“There’s a small cave at the bottom. It probably leads to some fae lair, but the inside was full of rocks and geodes. Its obviously a lair which has been abandoned though, there’s silt all over it.” Zadok commented, “They probably moved along a while ago.”

“That’s amazing.” You replied, “Thank you. Its very pretty.”

Zadok failed to stop his fins from flaring as he puffed with pride, “Sorry.” he grunted, “It’s a natural thing. I can’t stop myself.”

You only laughed at him, “Its fine, don’t worry about it.” You took hold of the whiskey again and held it out for him, “Want some more.”

Embarrassed, Zadok nodded, “Yep.” And took the whiskey as he swam back out into the pond, treading water easily as he sipped whiskey, back and forth across the length of the body of water.

The whiskey was strong, and it quickly got to your head, making you smile as you laid near the edge of the water, talking as you watched the clouds roll overhead. You grinned as Zadok started to cloud watch with you. It was childish almost, but peaceful as you both laid back and watched the day roll past, sipping whiskey before you started on the bread and meat he had shoved into the bag as well, chewing slowly as you listened to the trees rustle and fae giggle. The sun started to dip below the horizon as you both finished off the bottle of whiskey, giggling and slapping water at each other before you flopped back against the bank with your feet swirling back and forth in the water. Zadok dipped below the surface and resurfaced happily, stretching his lithe figure out before he swam back towards you. One of his hands wrapped around your ankle, the black, tapered claws grazing over your skin before he pulled himself out of the water, and grazed them up over your calf, to the point where your bottoms were rolled up your legs. His white eyes continued up your legs, following their own path over your chest before your gazes locked.

His fingers pressed against your skin, softly mapping the expanse of your calf before he trailed his other hand up your other leg, touching the back of your leg in a slow stroke before he heaved his body up and out of the water, resting between your legs as he dripped water over your stomach. Intensity burned in his white eyes as his nose holes flared and his mouth opened, scenting the air. You looked up at him and felt your body go hot. After a moment looking at his perfect, pearl coloured skin, you dared to stroke your hands over his stomach, following the deep purple colours as they zipped up over his shoulders and down his back. A croaking purr escaped Zadok as he pushed his skin against your hands, enjoying the petting as his lips pursed. His gills flared with a sigh before he leaned over and pressed his lips to your own. His second eyelids closed over his eyes, like he was snatching a fish from the water, and he watched you melt against the grass, one of your hands cupping his cheek, stroking at the fin on the side of his head, while your other hand dared to trail down his stomach, stroking the soft, scaled skin before you reached the mound between his legs.

Another soft rumble ran up Zadok’s check before he croaked, the sound accompanied by the soft fluttering of his gills. His eyes were closed as your fingers grazed over the flushed flesh of his slit. You stroked along the centre where the rough scales parted to reveal a peak of his soft, blue coloured flesh.

“Fuck.” Zadok whispered as his arms shook, “Please.” he whimpered in your ear.

“Please, what?” You gasped as your finger dipped into the slit as it grew slippery with a natural lubricant before you kissed him again, stroking the flushed flesh gently as you felt his tongue prod at your lips. The two of you kissed a little deeper, tongues touching before Zadok tilted his head and pulled himself out of the water completely, pressing his wet skin and scales to your front.

The mer shifted against you as your fingers came away from his slit, covered in a thin slime, “Let me…” he croaked again with a purr, “Let me have you.”

You grinned as he pressed his slit to your hips, rubbing the scales against you, “Do you have a room somewhere?” you asked, no louder than a whisper.

Zadok nodded his head as you dragged your nails down his back, shivering before he managed to speak, “The Rouge Bard. We have our own rooms. Everyone is out today.” he added as he blinked and leaned to nip at your lips, his gills fluttering again before he leaned back.

“We best continue this there then.” You stated as Zadok kissed you once more and pulled away, shaking water from his body as he hissed and pulled his clothes back on. The cotton dragged at the swollen flesh of his slit and you drunkenly hummed, looking at his angular ribcage, structured with thin bones and heavy scales. You were admiring him. Zadok smiled as he zipped up his cargo pants, moving the chains out of the way as they linked together and jangled.

“Yes. Let’s.” Zadok shuddered as the wind blew, but quickly covered up before stealing another heated kiss from your lips, his fins flaring as you clicked the water tank breathers to the gills on his neck.

The two of you stumbled from the abandoned homes, stealing kisses and dragging your hands over each other’s skin as darkness settled over the city. You stumbled and laughed with one another as you reached the hotel and he dragged you into the elevator, purring his croaking noise again as he pressed you to his front and stole another kiss, his lips demanding more from you. His tongue slipped into your mouth and you gasped against his teeth as they nipped at you. The elevator pinged the floor and you both collapsed out of it, dragging each other down the hall until you reached his door. You pressed his back against it as he fumbled for the keycard to get in.

A whistle sounded behind you as Zadok opened the door, “Golden boys getting some ass tonight I see.” Senoz purred from across the hall.

“I think I might be the one getting the ass.” You purred as the demon’s tails swung upwards, curled curiously.

“Well, when he’s a disappointment, you know where to find me, sweet thing.” Senoz swiped at your neck and licked the skin before leaving you both to tumble into Zadok’s room.

“Fucking demon.” the merman growled, “I’ll…”

“You better not be all talk. I might get bored and head over to see how good Senoz is in bed.” You countered as his coat fell to the floor.

Zadok was quick to pull the suction cups of his water tank free, wheezing for a moment before he pealed his shirt off, revealing his angular chest and plated ribs again. You leaned back to admire the sight before he grabbed at your own clothes. You let him wrangle your coat and shirt off before you pushed him back towards the double bed. He went with a soft rumble, laying back against the cushions as he undid his trousers. You stood and slid them down over his hips to reveal his underwear. They were wet with lubricant. Pulling them down, you tried not to lick your lips as his slit sat before you, puffy and glistening, the head of his cock already peeking out from the blue flesh. Zadok threw his head back as you pushed your fingers against the soft scaled skin, revealing the v-shaped head of his cock.

“Fuck, please.” he whined again, “Please.” he reached for your neck and leaned up for a kiss, only to be denied as you spotted the jewellery collars on top of his dresser. They were probably from the show the night before. Before he could steal a kiss, you retrieved one of the studded black leather collars and grinned.

“If you’re a good boy, I’ll let you have what you want.” You promised as you slid back into his lap, holding the studs of the spiked collar open.

The merman looked from the collar to your face. His white eyes widened before he nodded, licking at his lips with a blue, pointed tongue. You reached around his neck to click the collar closed before leaning back in his lap to admire the black leather and silver spikes against his pearlescent skin. Bioluminescence trails ran up his arms as you trailed your hands over his scaled skin. It was rough over the tops of his arms and you dug your fingers into the meat of his tricep to enjoy the feeling of the rough skin against your palms. Sitting back on his thighs, you turned your gaze downwards as you looped a finger through the ring hanging from the leather. Zadok moaned quietly as you gave it a soft tug and teased the tip of his cock. It bobbed, stirring between the blue fleshy lips before it extended out of its hole, shining wet with lubricant. His dick was long and curved upwards, with a head that tapered into a v shape. Beneath the head was bulbous, in the shape of an oval, and the bottom was flared with ribs. It was entirely new, and you felt your mouth water slightly at the sight of the blue gradient of the organ. The bottom glittered with silver light at your staring and his cock bobbed upwards sharply as your fingers trailed over his shoulders and down his ribs. Zadok let out another purring croak as you finally reached his pelvis and ran your fingertips along the top of his dick.

“Please, master, please.” he croaked as he flopped back into the cushions, easily falling into a more submissive role as you dragged him up a little by the ring of his collar, “Please touch me.”

You shuddered at his tone of voice, enjoying the soft pleading from a voice which was usually so confident and demanding of attention on stage.

“Are you going to be a good boy and do as you’re told?” You asked as you sat on his thighs, running your fingers over his hips, towards the base of his cock, before you trailed back again, letting the head of his dick leak precum and his slit drip with more lubricant. The clear fluid leaked down over his buttocks and you watched as his face lit up with a blue blush.

Zadok swallowed thickly, “I’ll be g-good.” he promised quietly as you let go of the ring of his collar and stroked the length of his dick.

“Good boy.” You cooed as you stroked him, “We can stop anytime, just pat my thigh twice.” You told him before leaning down to steal a kiss from his lips as you pressed your finger to the sensitive head of his cock.

“Ah!” Zadok cried sharply as your fingers twisted underneath the bulbous part of his cock, “That’s…sensitive.” he whined as you grasped the oval shape again and stroked around it, watching his clawed feet curl into the sheets, cutting slits into the sheets.

“Its sensitive is it?” You asked as you trailed over the bump again.

“Yes.” he cried, “Please, master, I can’t…I’ll cum before…”

Abruptly, you let go, watching his cock bob and throb with a hum. Zadok whined and croaked again before leaning up to kiss you, demanding your attention.

“I think I need a little help before I can fit that in baby boy.” You uttered against his lips, “How about you open me up a little?”

Zadok nodded as you took hold of his hand and looked at his claws, assessing them for a moment before you decided they were clipped enough to not shred your insides.

Zadok croaked before purring again as you sat on your knees, resting above his lap as his hand encompassed your sex, the rough scales on the outside of his fingers grazing against your sensitive skin before they ran back and pushed at your hole. He met with resistance and the mer quickly gathered the natural lubricant from his slit, smearing it over his fingers before he pushed back against your hole. Carefully, he slid one finger inside to the second knuckle, letting you rest for a moment before he eased the rest in. Your inside were warm, and Zadok shuddered at the temperature difference before he crooked his finger and began gently thrusting it in and out. His other hand occupied itself at your chest before his mouth took to teasing your nipples, sucking on the buds until they were pert and sore, his sharp teeth nipping at the skin as he croaked again in happiness.

“You’re such a good boy.” You moaned between the attention of his mouth and hands, enjoying the pleasurable stretch as he pushed another finger into you and scissored the two apart, pressing against your plush insides.

“Anything for you, master.” Zadok purred drunkenly, his pale face flushed with blue blood. You watched his cock bob and weep a pearl of light blue precum, following the fluid as it dripped back down the length and mixed with the lubricant seeping from his slit.

“Zadok, you’re dripping all over yourself. Is this turning you on that much?” You asked breathily as his fingers pressed into a sensitive spot, keeping your composure as he sucked on your nipples again, leaving cool spit over the skin with his blue tongue.

“Mmm. It is.” Zadok hissed as you wrapped your hand around the head of his cock, “Please, can I be inside you?”

“Hmm? What was that? Where are your manners, baby?” You asked as you pulled his fingers from you looking at them before you leaned back in his lap and pinned his hands to the bed. His dick bobbed as you stretched his arms up over his head and you admired the shape of his lithe figure, all bone and sleek muscle. His luminescence burned bright in striped over his entire body, shooting like currents as you nudged your hips against his own, “What’s the magic word?”

“Please, master, I can’t stand it. I need to be inside you.” Zadok moaned as you tugged him up by the collar for a kiss, mashing your tongues and teeth together messily before you reached back and lined his dick up against your hole, “Thank you, thank you…” He uttered incoherently as you sank down on his cock.

A moan tore from you as the bulbous part under his head sank into you, stretching you wide before the ribs along the bottom scraped gently at your insides. A sharp bolt of pleasure ran up your spine as you took him to the base. He was unique, slippery, and textured in ways you had never taken, and you took a moment to admire his face as his second eyelids flicked and blinked back and forth. His hips shifted, jolting you on top of him, and you felt the cool seep of lubricant from where your hips were pressed together.

“You’re just gushing for me, aren’t you?” You teased as you slid up his cock and slid back down, enjoying the wet squelch that sounded as your hips collided. Zadok nodded and croaked again, reaching for his collar as his other hand wrapped around a bed post, anchoring himself as your rhythm took over, rocking his dick in and out of yourself. He struggled to say anything as the bulbous protrusion expanded, squirting something unfamiliar inside of you.

“Did you just….” You paused as he shook his head, and your insides turned into jelly, numb to the swell but tingling with extra pleasure. It was a thin stream of jelly and you sat up on your knees to see it drip out of you thickly, numbing wherever it touched.

“Its for…eggs…” he moaned, “I couldn’t stop myself…”

You moaned as your legs shook, “It’s fine…Fuck its.” You pushed your fingers to your sex and shuddered again.

“It’s an…aphrodisiac and its…” Zadok moaned sharply his hand flying to the bed post again as you dropped on his cock, picking up the pace in a frenzy as your insides throbbed with the need to cum.

“I need to cum, baby, can you do it with me?” You asked as you leaned for another kiss and to tug at his collar, tightening the hold of your hand around his neck slightly as you thrust onto him. The ribs of his cock brushed your insides and you quivered before you came, white hot pleasure burning behind your eyes before Zadok croaked and shot his load. You shuddered at the feeling as you slowly brought yourself off his dick. Light blue cum dripped from you and you flopped against his chest with a sigh, thumbing at the collar around his neck happily in the afterglow of it all.

Tiredly, you roused from your sleepy state as Zadok placed you back against the cushions and tugged the sheets over your body. You hummed against the cushions before the sheets slid back down over your skin.

“You’re not already up for more are you?” You cooed as you peeled open your eyes.

“If only. I’m not that young anymore.” Zadok chuckled as he eased you over onto your back and revealed a warm wash cloth. He hummed as he slid it over your skin, wiping away the cum and jelly like substance which had made your insides tingle.

“I might be able to go for another.” You hummed as he wiped between your legs and tapped at your thigh.

“Well, this one hasn’t got it in him, I’m afraid.” Zadok flopped next to you, clean and relaxed as he laid back against the cushions and reached around the back of his neck.

You reached for the collar for him, “Here. Let me do it.” You kissed the skin of his shoulder and squeezed his shoulder softly before you unclipped the press studs and pulled it away from his neck. You kissed his neck where the leather had bitten into his skin a little and placed the collar on the bedside table before snuggling back against his chest.

Zadok croaked a little before he ran his fingers over your back, running his claws up and down your spine as he laid back and enjoyed the warmth of your skin against his own. He was cool to the touch, and you slid your fingers down over his plated chest, swooping to the side to feel the odd angle of his ribcage before you stopped above his pelvis, remembering that his dick had probably long retracted into his slit.

“Wait you don’t have anything do you?” You asked sleepily.

Zadok thumbed at the bottom of your chin, “Unless you count drug laced jello as having something, then no.” he let out a raspy breath of air before sitting up, easing you off his body, “Sorry. I need to just go and soak a while. Come and join me?”

With a smile, you leaned up on the edge of the bed and kissed him, enjoying the scrape of his scales, “Sure. Give me a minute though, my legs are still a little like jelly.”

Zadok chuckled again before he purred softly and walked to the bathroom.

You watched his backside go before you sat back against the headboard and massaged at your thighs, hoping that the numb, tingling feeling would wear off. It felt like a residual tingling pleasure, and you felt your insides burn with the idea of another round in the posh hotel bathtub. A rumbling sounded from the floor. You perked up at the noise before looking at Zadok’s bottoms on the floor. His pocket lit up with the screen of his phone. Someone was ringing him. It wasn’t polite, and you knew that as you curiously leaned down and plucked the phone from his pocket.

‘Misty Conrad’ it read, and you felt your heart drop into your stomach. Miss Conch. The words rang in your head from the band meet and greet. Senoz had implied that they were together. Suddenly, the mild buzz from the alcohol wasn’t there, and you sobered up as the ringing stopped and the screen went black. You clicked the screen back on and looked at the notifications. Three messages. Ten missed calls. The phone buzzed again with a new message and you clicked it to reveal the short message.

‘I know you’re with that fan. Answer my calls Zadok or it’s over.’

Your eyes burned with tears of humiliation. He was with her. What they had was more than a song recorded together, and you were a fool for not seeing the signs earlier. You let out a small noise as you sniffed and grew angry, the tears siding down your cheeks as you grabbed for your clothes on wobbly legs.

“Was that my phone?” Zadok asked and you turned to face him as he poked his head around the bathroom door. He was dripping with water but his eyes widened as he saw you crying and grabbing for your clothes, “Are you…”

You threw his phone on the bedside table as you tugged your underwear and bottoms on, “You’re a cheating fuck!” You accused, “And you used me! I should have known that this was stupid but… Miss Conch. She’s been ringing you all say and now she knows.” Your brain couldn’t seem to quite catch up with you as you pulled your shirt on and grabbed your bag. Zadok wrapped his waist with a towel, his mouth open as he grabbed his phone from the table and looked. He cringed at the messages and turned.

“Look, its not what you think!” he insisted as he caught your arm, “We’ve not been together seriously for ages and…”

“And nothing!” You threw back at him, “You used me to console your feelings because you can’t bare to deal with her, and you’ve made me into some kind of…”

“I’m not…” Zadok took a breath, croaking as he pulled at his fins, “Look, I’m sorry, I’ll sort this…”

“I…I don’t care.” You tugged your arm free, feeling the tears beginning to burn into your anger again, “You’re a bastard, Zadok, I want you to know that. A selfish bastard.”

Zadok let your arm go as you opened the door and stood with his phone clenched in his claws as you slammed the door behind you. You wiped at your eyes furiously in the hall and took a shaky breath before you turned on your heels.

“Hmm, leaving so soon, sugar?” Senoz purred as he peered out into the hall, “Or did you want a piece of this instead of the fishy boy?” he sniffed and tilted his head, his horns scratching at the frame, “Wait, why are you crying? Are you alright?”

You held out your hand to him, motioning for him to stop as you wiped the tears away, “I’m fine. Leave it. I’ll be going.”

The demon turned his head to Zadok’s door as you left him stood in the hall. As you rounded the corner you heard him knock on the door.

“You know that’s real bad fucking PR to make fans cry after fucking them, Zadok!”

You didn’t hear from Zadok after that. The band continued their tour globally, and you watched the highlights happily, listening to the songs with your usual interest. You smiled at Duncan’s solos and watched the crowd go berserk. It was energy you lived for. Zadok’s performances were stunning. He draped himself over a piano and sang a ballad before he did more singing in his ancient mer language. It was lovely, but it stung a little. It wasn’t long after their tour finished that you turned on the alternative radio station. The ends of a metal song chugged along as you made a sandwich. It was your day off from the bar and you had been cleaning most of the day, enjoying cleansing yourself of clutter and dust. You hummed as you placed two slices of bread on the plate.

“Although we have drama in the metal scene, we’re all used to the usual knucklehead fights between rival bands, or better yet, accusations of plagiarism, but we’ve never quite had some news like this. The frontman of the band SIREN has been caught, if you mind the pun, in a fishing net of accusations. Miss Conch, the mans supposed former partner, has been blowing the lid off his life outside of his band. The accusations range from ritual sacrifice to cheating, and its not something we usually endorse. But, to answer these claims, we have the very man, or mer, with us in the studio right now.”

You dashed for the volume dial and turned it up a little before you moved your plate closer and began to cut up your filling for the lunch.

“So, Zadok, what do you have to say about these claims by Pop Star, Miss Conch?”

“Some are right, but most are wrong. The ritual sacrifice, for starters, is a ceremony done by my people to appease the currents of the ocean. We take a fish and its bones and lay them in art decorations as an offering. Its an old and sacred tradition. The cheating accusations are, in part true, but our relationship was never official, and I had already broken things off by the beginning of this tour. Her more serious allegations…well my manager and lawyer are already dealing with those. They are untrue and slanderous.”

“Are you calling Miss Conch a liar?”

“For the most part, yes, I am. She invaded my private life and failed to see when our relationship was over. I want to be transparent and come out to speak for my side of the story. I’m not calling her obsessed or anything derogatory, I am just justifying what is fact from fiction.”

“That’s understandable and I’m sure your fans appreciate your honesty.”

“Unfounded and untrue.” You scoffed as you slapped your sandwich together, “Next he’ll be telling everyone that he-”

“This drama has gone on long enough and it has hurt people close to me, not just mine and the band’s reputation. I hurt someone I now know I shouldn’t have with this mess and this is my start to fixing that mistake.”

“That he didn’t know where his dick was going…” You whispered as you looked at the radio like it was a person staring back at you. You wondered if he was talking about you as you moved around the island of your kitchen and headed towards your couch to sit and eat your sandwich. The host thanked him before announcing the next song as Burn by SIREN. You listened to the thunderous drums as you chewed, mulling over the words in your head before the guitars wailed and you thumped at the cushions.

“Why do I even think that? He’s the one who just failed to tell me he has a girlfriend!” You grumbled to yourself before pulling your phone out. You sighed as you opened MonstGram. In your inbox, there sat one message.

‘Can we talk? I need to speak to you. I know I’m a selfish bastard but I want the chance to apologise.’

The same image of the figure by the sea. You took a deep breath as you looked at the vague image of Zadok and placed your phone down, the screen black as you finished off the last bits of your sandwich. Contemplation lasted only a moment as the screen lit up and the notification registered. Another message. You looked at the icon and opened it again.

‘I know I’m the last person you want to see but I’m sorry things ended up how they did. I hope my stupid actions didn’t ruin your love of our music. I’ll leave you alone. That’s all I wanted to say.’

It stank of desperation. You looked from the message and back to your empty plate. It wasn’t manipulative. It was honest, and that made you hate how you were feeling even more. You opened the conversation again and stared at the picture of the sea and cliffs. Your fingers danced over the keyboard before you started to type.

‘One chance. Meet me at Full Moon Bar. Friday. I’ll be on shift but I’ll talk to you.’

‘I’ll see you then.’

With a great sigh, you closed your screen and looked up at the ceiling, your head resting on the back of the sofa cushions. It was a leap of faith, you knew that. You were trusting him with your good faith again.

“If he doesn’t show up, Miss Conch will be the least of his problems. I’ll slice him up like sushi and mail him back to his manager.” You spat, and the poisonous words made you feel a little better and hate him a little less. With a smile, you ran a hand over your face and got up to go and put your plate away in the sink for washing later. For now, you had a living area to deep clean, and you headed for the vacuum to try and clean Zadok from your mind for a while.

The bar was quiet on Friday. Thankfully, there was a small group who had a lot of orders to keep you entertained. It distracted you from the nerves brewing in your gut.

“Hey, what’s wrong with you today?” Tom asked as he leaned over the bar, his nose perked as he sniffed at the air, “You smell off as all hell.”

“Get your werewolf nose away from me, Tom. I mean it.” You threatened as you turned to place some clean glasses under the bar, “I’m not in the mood for your meddling.”

“Meddling? Me? Never.” Tom teased gently, “Its like you’re worried though. Talk to me.”

With a great sigh, you turned back to face him, “Someone I’ve not seen in a long time is coming…I just need you to be there in case. Not with me or anything, just around.”

“Of course.” Tom consoled, “I hope this isn’t some abusive asshole, because I swear on the moon I’ll…”

“Don’t worry. Its not. Its just something I need to sort out.” You assured him.

“Okay. What time do you need a minute?” he asked as he opened the bar door and stood next to you. You peered at the clock as the bell on the door rang, and Tom turned to greet them with a smile.

“Evening.” he said before he turned back to you, his eyes wide and his nose flared, “Tell me I’m not dreaming, and that Zadok from SIREN did actually just walk into the bar.”

You stiffened as you peered around him, “You’re not dreaming big guy.” You headed to the door, “So keep your cool. This is the one I need to talk to.”

Tom’s mouth opened like a large fish but he didn’t ask you any questions as you headed over to Zadok.

Zadok ducked into a booth near the entrance, his head low and covered by a large black hood. His water respirator was on and he was wearing a mouth piece over his face. You watched him before finally taking the last couple of steps and sliding into the seat. You slid him a shot of whiskey. Zadok caught the shot glass and looked up, his white eyes locking with your own before he reached for his face and clicked a few buttons. The water drained from the mask and he pulled it free, smiling with needle sharp teeth. He was dressed in his usual baggy combats and a large, long sleeve shirt. The shirt was torn and had a few chains linked across his chest. He tugged off his hood and looked at the shot glass for a moment.

“Look I know that…That I fucked up. What I did was selfish, and I took advantage of you.” he started as he clutched the glass between his hands, “I shouldn’t have I shouldn’t have let you do what you wanted but it happened and I’m sorry.”

You looked at his face and the wetness of his eyes, “You still did it, and that hasn’t changed. I was…I was hurt and upset. I had her message me, Zadok. Spiteful, horrible things. None of that hurt will go away but its fading.”

Zadok cringed over his drink, “We weren’t even properly together. We had sex and a few dates but with the tour, it wasn’t going any further. She messaged me constantly. Harrassed me with phone calls and I was just…I should have told her.” he looked you dead in the eyes, “I’m sorry I dragged you into this mess.”

“It’s a mess, but I appreciate you being so honest with me.” You confessed as he thumbed at his drink before downing the whiskey. His hands looked a little steadier after the strong liquor.

“It’s the least I could do. She’s in the past. She’s tried to file a lot of shit against me. It wasn’t worth it, and I’m…I’m tired. She can have the song rights and royalties. I just want her out of my life”

You didn’t comment but nodded as he ranted a little. You knew about the allegations. It was widely known news to the fans now. Still, his interview weighed on your mind.

“What you said in the interview you did on Metal Talks.” You started, “Is this what you were talking about? You wanted to make this right with me?”

“Yes. I knew…Look I was a fucking idiot, I know that, but I ruined something that I thought was going to be…”

“More?” You added with a small smile.

“Call it stupidity, but…You were just stunning, and I got carried away. The alcohol didn’t help matters but I still think you’re amazing. Your love for the music, for life, it just spoke to me and… Look I can’t change anything, but I can try and sort this out.” He pushed the glass over to you on the table, “We don’t know each other, not really, but would you be willing to know me, in a better way?”

You gut churned as you looked at his pearlescent skin and his beautiful white eyes, chewing the inside of your cheek, “Maybe I would. I thought you were moving, in everything, from the moment I started to follow you all, but that doesn’t change what you did. I need time and space, but I would like to know you, the real you.”

Zadok carefully reached for your hand and squeezed at your fingers carefully as he smiled and ducked his head. The door opened and Tom greeted the next customer. You sat, letting him hold your hand, before you blushed and got up.

“You still have to pay for the drink, but you can stay, if you like? I know Tom is dying for an autograph and a picture. He’s probably your second biggest fan.”

Zadok chuckled and looked up at you, “Who’s my first?”

“Well, you just might have to find that out.”

#merman x reader #merman x gender neutral reader #merman #monster x reader #monster boyfriend #monster bf #monster boy x reader #monster boys #monster reader insert #reader insert #zadok #SIREN #siren: a metal monster band #zadok x reader #monster boys x reader #exo #terato

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peninkwrites · 2 years

Note

hey, so as someone who is very normally obsessed by tddd and possibly inspired, how do you go about writing a longfic as opposed to oneshots? how do you keep the momentum? I really admire your work :)

Thank you sm!!!

This is a very good question lol. I've had to think about it for a bit. I've written quite a few long fics over the years– some of them actually taking years lmao– so I should probably have an answer! I love this stuff so if you ever have questions/wanna talk about fic stuff my ask box is always open!

(this is probably much more than what you were expecting so I did put a tl:dr at the end!)

This is both true for something that motivates me and a warning: The cheap and dirty answer is positive feedback. It is a nice thing and one I value Very Much but there's a difference between enjoying it and depending on it. It's not good to depend on the support of others to write. It will always eventually stop being enough. (this is also a reminder for myself tbh.) I've been trying to teach myself that people reading my work is more like a nice bonus/side effect of me writing rather than the goal of it.

But some actual practical advice from me–

Write what you'd want to read. If that means throwing away what you originally had planned or writing something you don't know if people will enjoy reading, so be it! Write what's fun. That is always the goal. Give Yourself brainrot ! Write what occupies your mind and let what you write make you happy! I like writing horror, I like building tension and seeing how I can make suspense or surprise, so I write that!

That advice might feel useless when even though you're really passionate about a project, in the long slog sometimes it's just hard. If you're having writer's block, feel unmotivated to work on this project anymore, take a break, try writing something else. If you still find yourself not wanting to work on this project, change it up. Even if you don't want to make any drastic changes, writing a chapter from another perspective, writing a oneshot off of the same fic, talk about it with someone else, making a web weaving, stuff like that can help get you a new direction.

I set a loose goal for myself to post a chapter once a month. It's not set in stone bc y'know life gets in the way, but just having a vague idea of "oh I last posted 3 weeks ago I should sit down and see where I left off" can get me moving again. This may sound odd but I advise against strict update schedules. Those tend to psych me out and make me procrastinate on what's supposed to be a fun hobby! And another thing on the 'technical' side of it, chapter lengths are a balancing act for me between two things: I aim for over 4000 words, but if that is stopping me from moving forward, I finish when I like where I've left off!

And as for keeping momentum, I tend to have a Goal for each chapter. It doesn't have to even be a plot related event, it could just be a bit of dialogue I want to get to or an emotion to be had. Sometimes it's just something I want to try writing, like a chapter psychological horror that can almost be treated as its own thing. My chapters are distinct sections with something I want to have happen, not stepping stones to the grand finale or whatever that may be. That's especially helpful if you usually write oneshots, treating a longer fic like a bunch of oneshots that are connected type deal. If each chapter has A Goal, you have something short term to aim for.

That goes for overall stuff too. For me at least, if I know where I want a fic to end up I refuse to quit until I get there. I've never given up on a work that I know how it's going to end. It's easier to write horror than recovery for me, but I know where I want that recovery to lead so having short-term and long-term goals makes that easier to work on. I rarely have a proper outline (actually probably never do tbh) but if I Know that all of this is leading to the happy ending, revelation, moment of hope, moment of horror, etc that I want to get to, that paired with having fun with where I am in the story, it's easier to power through.

I hope that was somewhat helpful? If you have specific stuff that this didn't answer feel free to send an ask about it and I'll see if I have any ideas!

TL:DR

-write for yourself/write what you want to read/what you have fun writing

-when you get stuck work on something else

-have a general schedule (I suggest not a strict one) of when you'd like to update

-have a specific goal for each chapter and the overall fic.

#this was a lot but I hope it was somewhat helpful!#seeing your reactions to my fic makes me so happy #i am honored that my work occupies some of your brain space <3 #asks #painless-and-colourful #writing mood #this advice is what i do but sometimes i have no clue how i do it #the brainrot part is vital if you aren't feral about ur own work it's so difficult #the ending goal bit is important too #bc even if you lose the brainrot it's like you owe it to yourself and your story to get where you where you wanted to go

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bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher · 3 years

Text

This is the Beat of My Heart

happy very early birthday to @jaskierswolf! have some soulmates.

new soulmate mechanic: you can hear your beloved’s heartbeat whenever you feel frightened

art by the always-talented @mawbwehownets

tw: mentions of the Trials, canon typical violence but it’s just the cave scene from Posada/Four Marks, minor emotional Geralt whump (self loathing witcher feelings), hurt/comfort with a very fluffy ending

---

Geralt’s fingers curl painfully into the tops of his legs. He’s trying to hold himself down against the rough-hewn seat of the tavern bench with all his mighty strength; there’s an irritating sound filling the small room that has activated his fight or flight response, and he can’t do either without drawing suspicion from the already antsy villagers. The haunting rhythm echoes through him, a soft but insistent thud thud thud that floods his senses and soothes his aching head. The sound is more familiar to the witcher than his own gruff voice. More familiar than his brothers’ voices, or Vesemir’s. This staccato beat has marked out every terrifying moment in the witcher’s long life.

The sound that pounds against Geralt’s ears is his soulmate’s heartbeat.

The poor, ignorant fool he’s meant to match in every way is wandering around this shit-hole tavern in Posada, totally unaware of the sad, unsavory fate that Destiny has bestowed upon them. Geralt never thought this day would come, really. Being bound to a witcher was bad enough but being in the same room with one, feeling the subtle pull of forces far beyond your control meddling with your life… drawing you towards danger and death...

It will be better for both of us if I leave as soon as possible, Geralt thinks to himself. He takes a quick inventory of his purse and swords and finds them all accounted for. At least I can spare them the tragic end they’d no doubt meet at a witcher’s side. They would likely hate me if I ever sought them out.

They must be terrified of him, whichever one of these people Destiny has saddled with the other half of Geralt’s soul. They’ve heard his heartbeat, too, in their moments of fear. As well as Geralt knows his soulmate’s giddy, fluttering pulse pattern, they have lived with his slow mutant heartbeat in return. Were they even more frightened when they heard how slow it was? Did the connection serve its purpose, calming them down and reassuring them of his presence, or had it made things worse, elevated their level of terror? How cruel it was for Destiny to chain this person to a living firebrand, to create them to be the perfect other half for someone who’s no more than a monster.

That heartbeat, vibrant and steadfast, is what had kept Geralt alive and fighting for survival during the worst of his Trials. When the poisons and tinctures and potions had crawled through his veins, turning them from black to red to black again and twisting his body into something other, that glorious beating had been there for him. The sound of his soulmate’s fragile mortal heart had measured out the seconds, giving him something to cling onto. That heartbeat had given Geralt something to love. To hope for in his worst moments. When they had dragged him back into those dark, musty rooms, seventeen and screaming with what little was left of his voice, all Geralt could do was pray for his future soulmate’s heartbeat to return to him. To comfort him.

In the relentless pain and terror of those added experiments, Geralt had kept that sound buried deep within his very being, like a candle in the center of a pitch-black room. Even when they said the Trials would take his emotions from him, that the additional testing would obliterate his humanity entirely, the sound of a stranger’s heartbeat never failed to stir the strongest feelings of love and safety he’d ever known.

Can ever know, perhaps.

Regardless of what might have been in another lifetime, Geralt keeps his fingers clenched and his muscles taut. He focuses all his energy on keeping himself sitting. He would have been content to stay there in the corner, his eyes trained on the grain of the worn wooden table before him, ignoring Destiny’s desires entirely… except…

Except for the damned bard. The novice bard swans his way over to the witcher’s corner table, lashes fluttering and face flushed. Geralt catches a faint whiff of arousal and writes it off as a boyish reaction to the rush of performing. The young brunette opens his mouth and the sweetest voice Geralt has ever heard playfully says: “I love the way you just… sit in the corner and brood.”

“I’m here to drink alone,” the witcher grunts. He can practically feel his fingernails biting through the leather of his gloves. The heartbeat is louder now, closer, and it’s driving Geralt mad.

“Good,” the bard nods, still leaning against a support beam. “Yeah, good. Nobody else hesitated to comment on the quality of my performance except-” he takes a slow step forward “-for you.”

The bard is probably barely old enough to order his own vodka, and the bright, sparkling blue of his eyes makes the deeper blue of his doublet look incredibly washed out. Geralt tries to keep his face impassive, rolling his eyes and remaining silent. He’s still thinking about his soulmate… trying to block out the rapid thrumming of their all-too-human heart.

“C’mon,” the brunette urges. “You don’t want to keep a man with… bread in his pants waiting. You must have some review for me; three words or less!”

Geralt hears his soulmate’s heartbeat growing louder, more irregular and more excited, regardless of his efforts to ignore the hurried drumming. The scent of happiness grows thick and hazy in the air as the bard continues to grin and Geralt realizes, with a tiny jolt of horror, that the origin of the life-altering sound is sitting directly across from him. Geralt matches the rabbit-quick jumps at the junctures of the bard’s wrists to the soft rhythm thumping at the back of his head and finds them to be a perfect match.

It’s you, the witcher thinks, eyes widening slightly against his will. He takes a moment to tamp down his more obvious emotions, trying desperately keeping his expression neutral and under control. The bard is the one whose heartbeat kept me breathing in my very worst moments. Kept me fighting. Kept me…

Geralt suddenly remembers that he needs to answer a question: “They don’t exist.”

“What don’t exist?” the bard asks, eyebrows furrowing. The expression is halfway between a pout and an offended grimace, which infuriatingly verges on being adorable. Geralt’s heart lurches traitorously in his chest. He has never known such horrible yearning in all his many decades on the Path.

“The creatures in your song.”

“Why would you know?” the bard scoffs. Geralt prepares to stand, finally releasing his death-grip on his own legs. His fingers and palms are cramped and tight from holding himself still for so long; the bard is really testing his patience. The witcher is less than two seconds away from revealing the big secret and ruining both of their lives when the young man continues, eyes shining, “Ooooh, fun! White hair, big old loner, two very very scary looking swords…”

Geralt stands from the table and collects his purse.

The bard glances up at him, blue eyes wondrously wide and cheeks flushed pink.

“I know who you are,” he practically breathes. He stands, following Geralt halfway out the door. “You’re the Witcher, Geralt of Rivia!”

Geralt’s fists clench again. The retraction of his muscles keeps him from grabbing the foolish human by the collar and dragging him from the room for a proper chat about manners and soulmates. Thankfully. As the disoriented witcher hurries from the tavern’s main room, he hears the bard shouting after him: “Called it!”

---

Geralt snaps back into consciousness with a grunt. As frustration and fear weave themselves into a web of anxiety at the center of his chest, that soft thud thud thudding fills his ears. It soothes him and helps him focus; he is in a cave, it is midday or a little past, and the bard, Jaskier apparently, has been bound against him, back-to-back. He tugs at the ropes that bind their wrists again but it does no good. Behind him, the bard says quietly: “This is the part where we escape.”

Geralt fears for his soulmate’s wellbeing more than his own. He’s technically responsible for this stupid, fragile person who refused to stay behind despite his warnings. He lowers his voice, “This is the part where they kill us.”

“Unfortunate,” the bard sighs. The witcher listens, confused and a bit shocked, as Jaskier slowly starts to even out his breathing by matching his inhales and exhales to Geralt’s slow, methodical heartbeat.

“How can you hear it?” he asks without thinking.

“Hear what?” Jaskier replies, whispering.

“Your breathing,” Geralt says, as if it’s obvious. “You’re matching it to my… to my heartbeat. You don’t have a witcher’s enhanced hearing so how are you matching the rhythm so perfectly?”

“I was matching it to-”

Their conversation ends abruptly as an angry elven woman storms into the cave. She kicks at them furiously, spitting in the Elder tongue, “Beast!”

“Quick, Geralt!” the bard urges, “Do your witchering!”

“Shut up!”

“No!”

The woman doles out more swift kicks to the chest. One for Geralt and one for Jaskier. More muttering in Elder, insults that even the bard manages to understand and toss around. Geralt grimaces as he’s beaten by Toruviel and hears the thudding even louder than before. The witcher smiles when he notices that he can feel Jaskier’s heartbeat against his back, pulsing through the thin material of the bard’s light woolen doublet. It’s so much more intense, close up like this.

“Leave off! He’s just a bard.”

He’s so much more than that, Geralt’s own thoughts remind him. He’s everything to you.

A wave of urgent protectiveness swells within him and Geralt diverts the attention of the Elf King away from the foolish human, whose mouth has run away with him. Eventually Filavandrel tires of their chatter and pulls his short blade. The Silvan rushes forward, arms outstretched to stop his sovereign, “Wait!”

“Torque! Stand aside!”

“The witcher could have killed me,” Torque rushes to explain. “But he didn’t. He’s different, like us!”

Geralt watches with mild trepidation as the battle-hardened King pushes his subject aside, fury blazing in his clear blue eyes. He understands that this may be his final day alive. He wishes that Jaskier would have listened before and stayed at the tavern below. He wishes, with what may be his final moments alive, that Jaskier were safe and not bound to him this way. Literally and figuratively.

“If you must kill me, I am ready,” Geralt intones. “But the Sylvan is right… don’t call me human.”

The witcher tilts his head back, eyes open but unseeing, his entire being focused on the feeling of Jaskier’s racing heartbeat thudding against the back of his leather armor. The killing blow never comes. Instead, Filavandrel cuts the ropes that bind their wrists; Geralt ignores his initial instinct to check Jaskier for injuries and instead ushers the bard onto his feet and towards the mouth of the cave. “Wait!”

The witcher freezes in his tracks and glances back over his shoulder. Filavandrel holds out a gorgeously crafted lute with a beautiful gold design painted across the front. “My apologies for the loss of your instrument.”

“Your Majesty,” Jaskier gasps. “I couldn’t. You’ve already lost so much.”

“Then promise me to do right by him,” the elf nods at Geralt. “And consider it payment.”

“I swear it,” Jaskier nods, tone serious and face grim. Filavandrel lets his eyes flicker between the two unlikely companions and Geralt prays that the Elf won’t say anything out loud, if he indeed understands the bond between them.

“Be on your way, then, before I change my mind.”

Filavandrel winks conspiratorially and disappears back into the shadow of the caves. Jaskier pulls the lute strap over his shoulder and beckons for Geralt to follow him. “Your horse is probably worried.”

---

It takes nearly six months for Geralt to break down and tell Jaskier the truth about their seemingly uncanny partnership. If it weren’t for the rapid approach of harsher winter weather, he probably never would have said anything at all.

But on one particularly frosty evening, two weeks after Samhain, the witcher sits Jaskier down beside their fire and tries to remember how to speak from his heart. The bard is patient, warming his hands over the flames and waiting for Geralt to gather his words. Jaskier has never rushed him, and for that Geralt is eternally grateful. Taking a hint from his companion’s hunched shoulders, Jaskier speaks first. “What’s on your mind, my dearest White Wolf?”

“I… I have to tell you something and I don’t want you to be angry.”

“Did you spill ink on my new doublet?” Jaskier teases. “Because if you have, I promise to be very cross with you.”

“Hmm,” Geralt half-smiles. He’s terrified, and he can hear Jaskier’s heartbeat surrounding him from all sides. “No, I’m afraid it’s more complicated than replacing a doublet.”

“Oh, is this about us being soulmates?”

Geralt’s eyes snap up to meet Jaskier’s and his mouth drops open. “Wha-? When did you- When di-”

“You said it in your sleep maybe two weeks after we first met,” Jaskier explains quietly, like he’s the one who’s been holding back a secret all this time. He blushes furiously as he tries to apologize and extrapolate all at once, “I thought you were just muttering to yourself, really, or I would have woken you up! I swear! You were just…”

Now it’s Geralt’s turn to wait as Jaskier fumbles to speak.

“You hadn’t been resting well and I didn’t want to wake you up. You looked so happy and content that night, with your hair all loose and the moon so bright…” he shakes his head and giggles nervously, “Anyway, not important. You rolled over and reached for me. You chuckled a little between snores and said A bard for a soulmate, how lovely. It sounded happy, when you said it like that.”

“Was that… the only time?”

“No,” Jaskier smiles. He pulls his knees against his chest and rests his chin atop them, “You reach for me all the time in your dreams. Sometimes you say my name or call me soulmate or beloved. It’s rather sweet and I-” tears brim in his eyes and Geralt’s heart skips a beat “-I know that witchers don’t feel things the same way humans do. I didn’t want to get my hopes up and then-”

“I love you,” Geralt says. He takes Jaskier by the hands before he can stop himself and pulls the pale knuckles against his lips for a soft kiss. “You… You have saved my life so many times.”

“Geralt!”

“I mean it,” the witcher nods. “I know that the Path is treacherous, and I wouldn’t ask you to join me on it and risk your life, but I do love you and care about you. Ever since I was young I have marked my steps by the beat of your heart. I would be happy continuing to do so, whether or not you accept me in return.”

“Oh, Geralt,” Jaskier sob-laughs, flinging himself into the witcher’s embrace. Geralt falls backward, shocked, his arms full of emotional bard. His face is peppered with kisses between hurried words: “I love you, too! I thought you didn’t want me that way. I thought it was just… a witcher mutation thing.”

“Come with me to Kaer Morhen for the winter, Julek. You can learn more about my kind; you can meet my brothers and the old swordmaster for the Wolf School, my adopted father of sorts. We’ll protect you and I-” Geralt clears his throat. “I will hold you every night in my arms, if you so desire.”

“I would like it very much if you were to hold me,” Jaskier grins. “And of course I'll come with you to your witchery keep for the cold months, dear heart. I’ll never part from your side again.”

Geralt presses a firm kiss to Jaskier's forehead, their heartbeats echoing faintly in the witcher's trained ears. Something in his chest settles into place, contented at last. He presses another, even gentler kiss to the bard's chapped lips and feels his heart swell when Jaskier smiles into it. He breathes out his promise as they pull apart, "Never."

#geraskier #geraskier ficlet #art collab sorta #art collab #geraskier art #geraskier fluff #getting together #soulmate au #geraskier soulmate au #soulmates #you can hear you soulmate's heartbeat #heartbeats #tw violence #tw four marks #tooth rotting fluff #happy birthday wolfie #geraskier fluffiness

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marvelobsessedteenager · 3 years

Text

All The Hurt - Chapter 2

Pairing: Peter Parker x fem!reader

Warnings: ANGST, Peter was an ass, reader is a hurt and petty bitch, fluff to make up for the angst, curse words, lots of “coincidences”

Word Count: 4.1k

A/n: The amount of love I've gotten is absolutely incredible. Thank you guys for the support! Enjoy :3 -----------------------------------------

Flash had suggested driving both him and yourself to Liz’s house, and you agreed, simply because car rides with him were more fun. You got there earlier than anyone else, giving Flash time to set up his DJ equipment and speakers while you helped Liz and Betty set up the lights, food, and drinks.

Not an hour later and the house was full of people that you knew and didn’t know, but welcomed anyway. Everybody walking around was having a good time, drinking soda out of a red solo cup and dancing to Flash’s party music. You would be lying if you told yourself your eyes weren’t examining the dance floor for a particular bed of curls.

In your mind, you knew there was no way Peter knew Spider-Man. You saw it in the way he told everyone he did today at the gym. His left hand was wildly shaking — a clear telltale of nerves you’d figured out long ago.

Something else was bothering you, though, even if you didn’t want to admit it.

That bruise. You knew for a fact Peter wasn’t a fighter, mainly when it came to bullies - words or actions. He never retaliated, which is why people considered him an easy target. You wouldn’t put it past him to allow himself to get beaten up, but you would have known if that’d happened. Flash was definitely his number one bully, but he wouldn’t dare lay a finger on Peter, and neither would any of his friends, especially since they all knew your history with Peter.

They were all bark and no bite, which meant that there was another explanation for it, but for the love of God, you couldn’t figure out what it was.

And speak of the devil.

You smirked as you caught sight of him, worried thoughts vanishing as you weaved your way through the crowd to Flash, whispering in his ear about your discovery. He flashed you a wicked smile, turned down the music, and grabbed the mic.

“Penis Parker! What’s up?” Flash yelled into the mic, causing Peter to freeze and turn to look at Flash, who was pointing right at him.

“Hey, Y/n,” Flash pretended to search the crowd then turned to you, “Where do you think his pal Spider-Man is?” He placed the mic below your lips and waited for your preplanned answer.

“Hm, let me a guess.” You sweetly said, tapping your chin like you were thinking, “in Canada with his imaginary girlfriend?” You raised your eyebrows, eyes boring into Peter’s with fire burning behind your pupils, your brain ignoring your heart that was begging you to stop upsetting him as you caught the flash of hurt that crossed his features.

The crowd laughed and “ooh” ed as Flash played a “burn” sound effect, “That’s not Spider-Man,” He jutted his chin towards Ned, “that’s just Ned in a red shirt.”

You watched him walk away from the giggling crowd, fuming, and you bumped your fist with Flash's in victory. He turned up the music, and you made your way to the dance floor with your friends, as you swayed your hips to the loud tune. Your group sang loudly to the songs, and though it was deafening and off-tune, you never felt freer than when you screamed the lyrics with them.

At some point, your voice started sounding raspy, and your throat was begging you for some sort of liquid to heal the ache. You excused yourself from the group, walked to the kitchen and grabbed a solo cup, filling it with cool water and chugging it down.

But, of fucking course, someone had to ruin your night and your favorite white dress by bumping into you and spilling coke on your outfit. That someone was a girl with piercing blue eyes and brown hair — someone you didn't recognize. It was clear she didn’t go to Midtown considering she squeaked an apology and ran to her friends, who glanced back at you and immediately dashed out of the house.

Great.

You would ask Liz for another dress, but you weren’t exactly tight with her. You’d also ask your friends to take you home to change, but as you looked at them jumping around and bobbing their heads to the music, you figured they were having too much fun, and you didn’t want to ruin it.

You would normally call your driver, but you hadn’t had the chance to set up your new phone just yet.

Sighing, you grabbed your denim jacket you hid below the counter earlier, put it on, and began your journey home on foot. Your house was located about thirty minutes away from Liz’s, which wasn’t really a big deal for you.

About fifteen minutes of strolling in silence and kicking any rock that caught your eye, you passed by a playground that looked familiar. It was the very same playground you and Peter would play in when you were children. You’d take turns pushing each other on the swing, and when you were old enough to do it yourself, you would both compete to see who’d go higher and who could jump off the swing the farthest. It always resulted in an injury, but you two always laughed it off, especially when Jane would run over worriedly with a first-aid kit.

As you went into your early teenage years, you’d meet at the playground alone and climb to the top of the dome climber with different (and disgusting) flavored milkshakes, exchanging it with each other every now and again, and watch the river flow peacefully.

The same river in which Iron-Man is flying out of with Spider-Man in his arms.

Wait, what?

You snapped out of your reverie and did a double take before you quickly dove into one of the many bushes, the quick rate of your heartbeat becoming a distraction from the fresh cut on your exposed neck from the sharp branches.

You could see everything that was happening in front of you, but not necessarily hear everything. Your wide eyes curiously peeked over the bushes, watching as Iron-Man placed Spider-Man on the dome. And maybe it was your hearing, but you swore you knew the high pitched voice that was exaggeratedly saying something.

You saw Spider-Man tug his mask off and wring it out, which made the back of his head incredibly visible. Brown hair. Or maybe black. It was too dark to see the difference. You debated moving a little closer to hear the conversation.

Deep down, you knew it wasn’t right. Spider-Man was entitled to protect his identity. But you could keep a secret. Besides, maybe this could be the moment you’d thank him for saving you. You doubted he’d remember what he did, but you’d never forget.

So, you crept a little closer to make out the words, despite your gut telling you you shouldn’t.

“What were you thinking?” Iron-Man asked in a way that made you believe Spider-Man was in trouble.

“The guy with the wings is obviously the source of the weapons, I gotta take him down!”

Wait. That sounds like-

“Take him down now, huh? Steady, Crockett, there are people who handle this sort of thing.” Iron-Man said, waving his arm around.

“The Avengers?”

“No, no, no, just a little below their…pay grade.”

“Anyway, Mr. Stark, you didn’t have to come all the way out here, I-I had that. I was fine.”

But that was all you could hear. Because as the conversation went on, the gears in your head begun turning, the dots seemed to connect faster than you could comprehend.

The strange bruise on his jaw after it was shown on the news that a certain superhero fought robbers at the bank across Delmar’s. Him running out of school once it was over. The fact that he left school for two weeks and mysteriously came back. Him ‘allegedly’ saying your name when he saved you. All the times he ditched you in the past were the same times Spider-Man was on the news for a heroic saving. You remembered because you’d send the news to Peter. The “Stark Internship” excuse wasn’t real.

But this was.

Peter Parker is Spider-Man.

Peter Parker saved your life.

The amount of information was loud. So, so, loud. You couldn’t hear the bickering that went on. A rush of emotions went through you. The first was rage. Is this it? Is this is his reason for letting you go? He couldn’t have just been honest and told you? You bet he told Ned. But he couldn’t tell you, could he?

But just as quickly as it came, your anger left you, instead being replaced with worry. You hated to admit it, but you were worried about him. How could he go out there every day and put his life on the line like that? What about his wounds and injuries? Did he suffer through those alone? Or did May help him heal?

Does May even know? Does anybody know?

Lastly, panic, and that was the strongest of them all. Holy shit, you thought, I just found out that my ex best friend and former crush is a superhero. He shoots webs out of his hands or something and sticks to walls and saves strangers and fights criminals and-

And Iron-Man is flying away.

And Spider-Man is walking in your direction.

I need to go.

As soon as you turned around, still crouched but ready to fucking bolt, you accidentally stepped on something hard, and you had to bite your tongue to keep your hissing inside. Once the pain slightly subsided, you looked downwards and moved your head closer to the object. A loud purring sound was emitting from it, and if there was anything in this world that screamed danger, it was this.

You were careful to pick it up and examine it. In the middle of this..machine was a bright purple stone and it was fucking glowing. You looked around you and caught Spider-Man muttering something to himself right before an obnoxious ringing made its way into your ears, prompting you to cringe and put your hands over them as you crouched.

It’s the same annoying fucking ringtone as Peter’s.

You waited for him to move a little farther, and when he did, you peeked from behind the bush. He had just closed the phone and continued his walk. You didn’t know if this thing was a bomb or something explosive, so throwing it in his direction was already ruled out. Besides, he was already beyond throw distance. You knew the safest way to get it to him.

You knew what to do. You hated that you did, but you had to do it.

Maybe hearing him talk to you would confirm or deny your hypothesis. Anybody could have brown hair, a high-pitched voice and the same ringtone as your ex-best friend and be a superhero that saved you two weeks ago.

You took a deep breath to calm your hammering heart from ripping through your ribcage and escaping. “I hate my life,” you mumbled as you rose and followed him with your heart still beating out of your chest, almost sure it was louder than your barely audible footsteps.

Don’t trip, don’t trip.

When you got close to him, close enough to tap him on the shoulder, he quickly turned around and got into a fighting position with his fists ready to punch. You were so shocked that you dropped the object and backed away with your hands up, “Whoa, whoa, whoa, easy. ”

Upon seeing a citizen (that he knew too well) he dropped his stance, “S-uh..sorry. I-I thought you..uh..” He cleared his throat, “Sorry, ma’am. How can I help you?” He said, very clearly thickening his voice and awkwardly placing his hands on his hips.

But you knew that sound anywhere.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. It is him.

You attempted to swallow the lump in your throat as you felt it clogging your ability to breathe.

“Uh, hi. I’m Y/n.” You mentally smacked yourself. He already knows you, dumbass.

Should you tell him he knows you, though? Should you tell him you know him? No, what? You vehemently shook your head.

“A-anyway I, um, found this-” You picked up the object and turned it around in your hands, “-on my way home and I think it’ll help you? I don’t know, it’s definitely not man-made, I suppose. I’m not exactly an expert but I thought you’d be and you just so happened to be in my neighborhood and I am, too, and this thing is glowing and-”

His spider..eye..thingies were as wide as saucers, and it was only now that you noticed you were rambling. Your cheeks flushed, and you immediately cursed at your body for betraying you.

This is worse than tripping.

“Sorry,” you looked down at your shoes, "I babble when I’m-“ Nope. Not letting him know you’re nervous. Not that he doesn’t already know. You found yourself regretting telling him all your triggers and quirks in the past, because right now, you couldn’t tell whether he could figure you out or not.

He probably could, though.

This night just kept getting worse. Pack it up already.

You cleared your throat and straightened your shoulders in the most confident way you could, “Here,” you outstretched your arm to him, waiting for him to grab the foreign object, but all he did was stare, and stare, and stare. You didn't really know where to look, and you didn't know if he was gazing at you or not, but before you could say anything, he snapped out of whatever he was in and took a hold of the object. You tried not to think about his masked fingers that grazed yours.

“Thanks, uh, Y/n.” He said, not as intrigued by the object as you thought he’d be. Instead, he seemed to be looking at you. Or behind you. You still couldn't tell. You were too caught up in the way he said your name. It felt strangely familiar, and comforted you for a moment. It made you feel safe and wanted. Loved.

Before the memories reminded you of what he’d done.

“Sure,” you nodded, slowly backing away, “um, see you...around.”

“Yeah.”

As you turned on your heel to continue your trip home, he pipped up, “Oh, um, would- do you want me to walk you home? It’s really dark out here.”

You entertained the thought in your head for a second. "What could possibly happen if he walked you home, besides guaranteeing you safety?” Your heart spoke.

"Oh, I don’t know, you could accidentally blurt out that you know him, and then things will get even more awkward than they already are.” Your brain fought back, stubborn as ever.

Yeah, you’re definitely just going to pass up his offer.

“I’m, uh, I’m good. Need a little time to myself.” You nervously chuckled, wrapping your arms around yourself, “Thanks, though, I appreciate it.”

“Yeah.” He repeated, shifting his weight from one foot to another as he watched you walk away from him.

Like he’d done to you.

The rest of the fifteen minutes passed by faster than you anticipated, but maybe it was because you were too preoccupied considering you just confirmed your ex-best friend was a fucking superhero with fucking superpowers. As the confirmation made its way into your brain, you noticed that the signs were right beneath your nose, but you weren’t observant enough to figure it out. They started before he left you.

How did it start to begin with? Has he always had these powers?

Wait, no. Because Spider-Man wasn’t always around. And even if he really did have them for a long time, why leave you now? It must’ve been recent, you concluded.

But how? How does one go from an ordinary, lanky teenager to a robust superhero who can stop a speeding bus with his bare hands?

As one question was answered, another one took its place. The list just kept going and going, without a clear sign of it stopping.

In all honesty, you thought the videos that popped up on your YouTube recommended page of a web-slinging human were staged. In your defense, he seemed quite small to be a hero, and it wouldn’t be the first time some kid tried to fool the world with “a new superhero". You remember sending it to Peter and asking him if he thought it was real.

He never answered.

You hadn’t realized you were standing on your porch, staring at the overly large mahogany door in front of you. You sighed and took out your keys, placing them in the lock and twisting it.

You were lucky today was the beginning of the weekend. You wouldn’t be able to face him after seeing what you just saw. You didn’t know how to feel. You didn’t know what to do. Should you let him know that you know?

Should you let anyone know that you know?

That was the worst part about this whole thing. You had no one to turn to. No one to talk to about this, and there definitely wouldn’t be a wikiHow page on how to deal with something like this.

So, you ruled it out. One of the choices was obviously keeping the secret to yourself and not telling Peter you knew his identity. It would keep things from getting too awkward to handle and would keep him safe.

The other choice, the really horrible one, was to let everyone know. A part of you was still mad at what he’d done. You mean, he didn’t even try to apologize as he should’ve. That evil part of you, the hurt part, wanted revenge — wanted you to ruin Peter like he did you.

You knew people would believe you if you told them. You knew they’d find their ways to figure out if it’s true or not. But for some reason, you were hesitant. Yes, Peter ruined your life. Yes, Peter broke you in ways you believed were beyond mendable.

But Peter was also the boy who gave you his last Iron-Man bandaid when you scraped your elbow the first time you met. He’s the boy who pushed your bully and got punched in the face for it when you were ten. He’s the boy who saved your life the other day - the boy who saves dozens of strangers every week.

It was clear which option was better.

Keeping his secret didn’t mean you forgave him, though.

After everything, you didn’t know if you allowed yourself to forgive him. Part of you wanted you to, pleaded you to for the sake of moving on, but the more stubborn part of you remembered the pain you went through; the nights you spent crying yourself to sleep, the newfound insecurities of not being enough for anybody, the fear that others will leave you behind like he did.

Hell, you had a locked note in your notes app that contained a long speech about how you felt — about how he made you feel. The one you were to send him — but ended up deleting.

You groaned and rubbed your head, feeling an oncoming headache from the questions. You stayed in your house that weekend, trapped with a racing mind and no answers to slow it down.

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

You started noticing Peter act differently towards you when your freshman year of high school was close to ending. It started off with him rescheduling long-awaited plans and then showing up late, but you didn’t mind. He had told you he scored an internship at Stark Industries, and you swore you’d never felt prouder in your entire life.

He informed you that he could be called in at any given moment, which was his reason for leaving in the middle of your hangouts. You understood, and so, you encouraged him to do so.

But then, as time went by, you noticed a change. Instead of postponing the plans, he’d cancel them all together and wouldn’t make up for them. And sometimes, in the rare occasion in which he did postpone them, he’d stand you up, keeping you awake until you were on the brink of sleep.

He apologized multiple times for doing so, blaming it on the time the internship took for him, and you let it go, even when it became a pattern to leave you stranded.

You were okay with it.

Until it became too much.

During lunch, you could never find him, which ended up with you eating alone. During the only class you shared with him, he’d zone out while you were talking and completely ignore you. You’d normally come out of your last period ready to see him standing by your locker to begin your journey home, but he stopped being there, and you would walk home alone.

Texts and calls went unnoticed, and you felt the barrier he had placed between the two of you grow higher and higher as the time passed by.

What bothered you is that it was just with you. He acted completely normal around Ned. You often saw them chatting and laughing while you watched from afar, heart breaking into two as you wondered where you went wrong. You inspected every text message you sent and every conversation you had, often staying up late re-reading it until you reached the top. You just didn’t understand what happened.

One day, you approached him after school, running after him as he bolted through the school’s gates into the outside.

“Hey!” You called as you caught up to him and grabbed his arm, which flexed beneath your grip. You sighed and slightly loosened your grasp, “Can, um, can we talk?”

Peter visibly gulped, hesitantly nodding as his eyes bounced around your figure, never looking at you.

“Peter.” You ran a hand through your hair, carefully choosing your next words as to approach this topic cautiously, “What’s going on with you? You..you’ve been acting weird and distant. D-did do something?”

“I’m not acting weird,” Peter said, almost offendedly, quick to defend himself.

“Peter we haven’t hung out in weeks because you’ve been canceling them.” You retaliated.

“I told you, I-it’s the internship.”

You frowned, heart clenching at the tiredness that seeped into his voice, “I know.” You gave him a small smile, hoping for one in return, “I’m your best friend. I’m always here for you, you know.”

“I-“ He sharply inhaled, scratching the back of his head with his shaking left hand. “I don’t want you to be.”

Your smile instantly dropped, feeling a painful nudge in your stomach, “What?”

“I don’t..this isn’t working, Y/n. We can’t be friends anymore. I’m done.” He said. And so easily, too.

I’m done, he’d said.

Your heart stopped for a moment, taken aback by his bluntness and the harshness that came with his words, “What? Why? N-no.” You denied, "You’re just gonna leave? You can’t do that, I..What did I do?”

“Nothing. It’s just..it’s just better this way.” Peter visibly gulped, looking around the streets like he wasn’t standing there, breaking your fragile heart into pieces while you were trying your hardest to not fall apart right in front of him.

Dignity was still a thing. But so was your friendship.

“I can’t fix this if you won’t let me, Pete.” You pleaded, hoping he’d admit that something was wrong - that it wasn’t you that he was pushing away, that there was a reason for him doing so. You could fix this. You could.

“There’s nothing to fix. I don’t want to be friends, that’s it.” He shrugged, shuffling backward, getting ready to make a run from it.

“No,” you stopped him, grabbing his hand softly, despite the tears that already ran down your face, “There has to be a reason! Y-you can’t just leave like that! Give me a reason! WHAT DID I DO?!”

When he didn’t respond, you gave his loose hand a squeeze and wiped your tears with your sleeve, already feeling stupid for the amount of vulnerability you were displaying, especially when you weren’t getting any sort of reaction out of him besides coldness.

“Peter. Peter, please, just l-let me fix this.” You said, voice cracking, "You’re all I have left. Please don’t do this.”

You were begging. You knew you were, but you couldn’t let him leave without putting up a fight. You were a step away from begging on your knees, but you didn’t. You were able to stop yourself from doing so, but you still believed you could get through whatever this is - you were so sure of it.

But you never did.

And you swore he had ripped your heart from your chest, stepped on it, and nonchalantly walked away, leaving you to deal with the pain of the heartbreak on the sidewalk.

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#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #peter parker x y/n #tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland x reader #tom holland angst #spiderman #spiderman x reader #marvel

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lungsareforlove · 3 years

Note

HI I LOVE YOU EVEN IF YOU DONT LOVE YOU RIGHT NOW

anyways that’s probably not helpful in distracting you. So:

1. What is the best thing you’ve read so far today?

2. If you are a hero going on a quest, what would the quest be, where would it take you in the world (or fantasy world), who would be your companions, and how would you get there?

3. Do you ever journal- does it work for you? What do you write if you journal? Do you have the same prompts, or do you sit down and just write whatever’s on your mind? I’m not great at journaling, and I think I want to be better at it.

hello 🥺😭 mx I don't even know your name but I absolutely love and adore you 😞 I miss you so much but if you're not in this hellsite that means things are better for you irl and that makes me happy 💟 warning this is reaaaallly long. maybe the onceler ass edit long

1. What is the best thing you’ve read so far today?

I was searching through my gallery for something to cheer me up, and I saw this pic from The Time Traveller's Wife:

I didn't read much today :(( costs too much energy. I have like, 4 books and 10 pdfs that I haven't read. and I want to, but I can't :((

2. If you are a hero going on a quest, what would the quest be, where would it take you in the world (or fantasy world), who would be your companions, and how would you get there?

THIS IS SUCH A FUN ASK!?!

Hero: I resonate so much with paladins. I'm more of a fighter type that uses some magic but doesn't wholly rely on it. I'll be the short but explosive trope. (also. righteous anger. FUCKK)

Quest: Preventing the barriers that blocks the Otherworld (working on the name) from this reality. It needs to be resealed every ten years or so from both sides at the same time. The time for resealing will become apparent bc humans would pop up in random places (they were driving/cycling/walking then got lost. too many wrong turns and they ended up in there). And in turn, flora, fauna, and other sentient creatures end up here. These humans, when found, would be manhandled to the city and forced to go to this quest. Also these humans are like. running away from their lives and have a sense of adventure. It's different this time, though. The barriers tear with time naturally, but now there seems to be someone or something destroying them on purpose.

Where It Takes Us: travelling a LOT. I would want to see everything, exposed to their cultures and such! (plus the Tears are also the way back home) Including but not limited to: wading through a beautiful swamp and meeting swamp creatures, sailing a fucking ETHEREAL ocean and swimming down an underwater cave, trekking a mountain range to kill a dragon but end up befriending her and her kids, climbing a huge tree to save a little kid that's stuck on the top, hunting creatures that blend into the shadows, etc.

Companions: with the narrative, I honestly won't have a choice. I could say that elias, paul, justin, and I were walking somewhere together and got lost. coincidentally (wink) you, ren, and kat are there too 😌💟 and other random people. I also would love a murder of crows as animal companions 🥺 and also we would have people from that world travelling along with us, to help with the seals and as guides.

How would we get there: like I said, we have to get lost first, then found, then get back home through the tear. that's the only time we'll ever be there though, since it doesn't call the same humans twice.

I came up with this on the spot don't judge me for how childish it sounds 😞🙏🏽 fun ask tho 💟💟

i've tried in the past. nope it hasn't worked for me but i'm stubborn. i'll keep trying. if you're talking about a daily journal. I have a "bad times" journal for when I'm overflowing with negative emotions again (like earlier)

here's some photos of my failed attempts:

on the left is what was supposed to be a fun kind of journal, then things stopped being fun in my life. on the right is a journal mom gave to me in 2020. it's the best paper. I was so excited about This Savage Song 😌💟 it's very dear to me. no I don't look at it objectively I allow myself to have happy things.

but! your ask reminded me that I do have an ongoing project of sorts!

I take quotes that I like from books and paste them together. they may or may not form a narrative. this was before I knew what web weaving was.

a problem that I had before is comparing what I did to others. theirs were pretty and aesthetic and organized. I had a talk with myself and said, "the reason why we can't make a proper journal is that we try so hard to be pretty and perfect. we rip out pages when we spell something wrong or colored past the lines. we're not them. we're not pretty. or perfect. or aesthetic. we're messy. we make mistakes. stop trying to be pretty and just be yourself."

so yeah I love that weird little notebook. I also rip out weird drawings I do when I feel horrible and stick them:

and I also put words that I think are pretty and spill my problems out! I'd give a pic but I think I hit the picture limit. oh wait I didn't. here:

oh I did. sad. i'll give the words one instead of the sad one.

thank you for this ask! it helped me a lot more than you might think! I hope you're doing well in your side of the world. stay safe!

#thank you for the ask 🥺💟💟💟#about hiwaga #hiwaga.txt

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98prilla · 4 years

Text

Hidden Shapes

Based on This Post by @fangirltothefullest (who is awesome and amazing, go follow). This was supposed to be a simple one shot, but as always, it’s really gotten away from me, so expect three to four chapters, instead.

...

AO3

The dark sides all have animal traits. But they also have hybrid forms. Something Patton, Logan, and Roman don't realize until Janus isn't able to help it.

....

He doesn’t feel quite right.

He brushes it off, at first, ignoring the slight chill that comes over him, every once in a while, the mild achiness to his bones, he ignores them all.

Then Patton comments on how his scales look pretty on his arms, when he’s doing the dishes, sleeves rolled up, and he nearly drops the plate he’s washing, before he regains his composure, letting Patton think the slip was from the unexpected compliment, as he excuses himself.

He notices his fangs are longer, sharper, the next day, and his chills are stronger as well, he spends nearly the whole of it working at his desk, wrapped in a blanket, trying to ignore the pain taking up residence behind his temples, pounding dully against his skull, as he examines and rearranges the schedule to make sure everyone has at least a day of self care planned for the week, before sending it back to Logan for assessment. He won’t admit it out loud, but he rather enjoys the back and forth, the bargaining, the trade offs, it’s a bit of a game of wits, finding how it all can fit. But today it just makes him exhausted.

He makes an excuse, not to come out for supper that night, saying he’s tired and plans to turn in early, which is true, he just leaves out the reason, which would lead to Patton trying to take care of him, and the last thing he wants is to force pity from Patton, so he keeps his mouth shut.

…

He’s shaking. The world is swirling and writhing around him, shadows stretching and shifting around him, forming almost figures, eyes glaring at him accusingly, whispers menacing his ears, telling him how poorly of a job he’s really doing, and he grits his teeth and bears it, even as he feels himself shifting into something different, scales blooming across the entirety of his face, his arms, coiling in on himself, as his tail forms, a ball python’s markings, in deep blacks and hazardous yellows, marking him as the venomous creature he is.

He doesn’t want to be this monster, but he can’t stop it, can’t stop the change, so he just hisses, cursing the world, burying himself in his tail so he doesn’t have to see anything, feel anything, outside his little bubble, though he can’t seem to stop shaking, no matter how tightly he curls.

…

He sees clawed hands tearing at him, shredding him to ribbons. Dark figures laughing as they rip him limb from limb. Violet eyes and neon green grinning, as they set him aflame, burning him to ash, and somehow, he can feel every second of it, taste the smoke on his tongue, convulsing and writhing as he tries to escape the smoke, but there’s nowhere, nowhere to go. Webs, pinning him down, eight eyes, eyes he knows so well, staring into his as the pincers bite into his neck, tentacles wrapping tight around his throat, lifting him off the ground, constricting him until he can’t breathe, until his own weight suffocates him-

Then suddenly it’s bright, far too bright, and he can’t see clearly, and he hears gasps, voices around him, hissing and flinching back at a touch to his forehead, slitted eyes flashing as his tail lashes, coiling.

“Leave me alone!” He growls, baring his fangs, his claws, ready to spring, even as the world spins and colors blend, everything shifting as if he’s looking through a fun house mirror.

“You’re burning up…”

“Calm down, Janus, let us help!” He hisses, drawing back further, heart pounding with fear, pulse racing with adrenaline, but everything is too much, too loud, too bright, and he can’t focus, can’t figure out where he is or what’s going on or who is speaking, past the pounding in his ears.

Then a hand comes into view, trying to reach him, and he snarls, letting the coils do their job, propelling himself forwards, pouncing, but the sudden movement sends a wash of lightheadedness through him, and the world goes dark.

“Janus! Janus, are you ok?!” He groans, barely managing to register the voice, barely managing to flick open his eyes for long enough to see a flash of deep blue, to realize someone has caught him, stopped him from falling.

“lo…gan?” He manages weakly, feeling the logical side let out a relieved breath, though he’s no less worried.

“Yes. You’ve got a severe fever, Janus, how long have you been sick?” His mind seems to be working at half speed, his tongue feels heavy and thick, and he barely manages a shrug.

“w-week?” He offers, already slipping away.

“Oh honey. We’re gonna take care of you, alright? You just get some rest, and when you wake up it’ll all be better.” He doesn’t trust that voice, not completely, but he knows in this case, it’s telling the truth, so he nods, shivering at the cold air on his scales, wishing for his heating pad, before he blacks out once more.

…

Logan lets out a low breath as Janus collapses in his arms, cheeks flushed, even through the scales now peppering both sides of his face, his pulse coming in odd unsteady beats, his breathing shallow and uneven. He’s ill, extremely ill, and he doesn’t know how none of them had noticed.

Then again, even after becoming accepted, Janus has always been the most aloof of all of them. Even now, they don’t really know much about him, he holds everything close to his chest. Which is maybe why Virgil and Remus are the only two who don’t look entirely surprised at the state of him.

That state being a half human, half snake, commonly known as a Naga, in folklore.

“We need to break the fever. Help me lift him, onto the couch?” Logan states, more than asks, and instantly, the twins are there, each taking half of his tail while Logan takes his torso, sliding him onto the couch, before wrapping him with blankets, trying to quell his incessant shivering, coiling tight, teeth chattering.

“Now what?” Roman asks, uncharacteristically quiet.

“Heated blankets, he has some, yes?” Remus nods.

“I’ll go get them.”

“Virgil.” He startles at Logan addressing him, his eyes had been locked on Janus’s form, huddled and so small, despite his large coils. He hadn’t realized his breath was starting speed, his heart starting pound. “Virgil, I need you to answer some questions for me. It could help in my treatment of him.” He nods, though his throat feels dry.

“He has shifted like this before?” He nods again, forcing himself to take a deep inhale and exhale.

“yeah. He doesn’t… he usually doesn’t. Doesn’t like to. But when he gets sick or hurt, he loses control, sometimes. Goes… goes into attack mode.” Logan nods.

“It makes sense, that as self preservation, he would have this kind of protective mechanism. Given his scales, I’m not surprised that he would take Naga form. And Remus has his tentacles, his half animal form being an octopus-“

“Kraken, dear Logic!” Remus trills, returning and tucking the heated blankets around Janus, making sure they aren’t set too high. They want a toasty snek, after all, not a toasted one. A minor distinction, but an important one, in this case.

“And Virgie here is-“ Instantly, the room grows ten degrees colder, the shadows lengthening, as it grows darker, all eyes turning back to Virgil, who is shaking his head, maybe just shaking in general.

“don’t. Remus, please… don’t.” Remus pouts, but instantly nods, coming over and rubbing his arms to dispel the chill, smiling as Virgil’s head thumps against his chest.

“Sorry, Vee. I forget what I’m not supposed to say and what I am. I didn’t mean to spill the beans.” He feels Virgil nod, knows he understands, he’s just scared and stressed right now, and so is he, it’s why his tongue nearly slipped. He has a bit more control than the others tend to think, at least when it comes to important things, secret things, like this.

“Virgil? You… you have animal traits too? That’s really cool, kiddo, why didn’t you tell us?” He winces at Patton’s question.

“you wouldn’t like them. Trust me, Pat, it’s better I just keep them tucked away, where they won’t cause any problems.” He mutters, a bit of fear curdling in his chest, at what he is, fear blooming at what they would do, if they knew.

If they knew his eyeshadow was to hide the three smaller eyes dotted underneath his normal ones, if they knew about his eight, spindly spiked legs, that could extend from his back, much like Remus’s tentacles, making him much faster and stronger than any of the rest of them, if they knew how quickly he could move, slinging web, how reflexive an action it once was, when he and Remus were young and would tussle, if they knew about his own deadly, venomous fangs, if they knew how when he was stressed, he still vanished into Remus’s imagination, to weave intricate webs, to put his hands to work so his mind would be silent.

“Virgil. I love you kiddo, no matter what, okay? Just remember that, if you ever do want to share. Whatever it is, it won’t change that.” He looks away, nodding once, though if Janus were in working order he’d call bullshit from a mile away, there were some things that they could grow to accept about him, yes, but his half spider form? Definitely not one of them, when even curtains with cartoony spiders warranted being called “creepy crawly death dealers” and getting attacked by Roman’s sword.

“So… now what do we do?” Roman asks breaking the silence.

“wait. He’ll shift back, once he’s feeling better, in control, again. Until then, we should all give him plenty of space, you three especially.” Virgil answers.

“Why is that?” Logan asks, and Remus grins.

“Janny’s got quite a nasty bite. Those fangs aren’t just for show!”

“He might lash out, is what he’s saying. And it’s better if no one is in reach when he does. Me and Re have a certain amount of immunity, to the venom, thanks to our… traits, but it would be really, really bad, for any of you. Plus, he isn’t used to you all being around yet, he’s less likely to lash out if it’s me or Remus, nearby.” Virgil explains, “you, um, you’ll trigger his fight reflex.” He doesn’t have to look up, to see the slightly hurt expression on Patton’s face.

“He doesn’t trust us yet.” Logan says softly, and Remus nods, though his face is tight, with a frown.

“That’s… understandable. We haven’t been the best of companions.” Roman murmurs, surprising both Remus and Virgil.

“He trusts you.” Remus states, looking firmly at Logan, who’s eyes widen in surprise, hand flying to adjust his glasses. “He doesn’t trust you.” Remus states, looking at Roman, who nods minutely, a brief look of regret flashing across his face. “And none of us trust you.” He turns his sharp gaze on Patton, who winces.

“Remus!” Virgil hisses, grabbing his arm.

“What? It’s true, otherwise you would have told them what you are, by now! Tell me, the reason you haven’t, isn’t exclusively to do with Patton.” He flinches, drawing back, eyes glued to the floor so he doesn’t have to see the hurt on Patton’s face, though he hears the sharp inhale of breath. “Tell me you aren’t afraid, of what he will do.” He gasps, the air flooding out of him, feeling as if he’s been punched in the gut, tears welling in the corners of his eyes. He opens his mouth, ready to deny it.

“I can’t.” he whispers instead, blanching at his own words, drawing further back, into himself. “I… I can’t.”

“that’s ok, kiddo.” Patton’s voice is soft, trembling, and he looks up in surprise, at the words, Patton taking a step closer, though still giving him his space. “It’s ok. I’ve hurt you, a lot, in the past, unintentionally, but I still hurt you. It’s ok, that you don’t feel comfortable telling me everything, telling me anything. I don’t expect you to. I don’t need you to. I’m happy to just be here, that you’ve let me have this much with you, and it’s ok, that you don’t entirely trust me. It’s ok, Virg.” His lip trembles, then he’s in Patton’s arms, head tucked against his shoulder. “we’re ok, kiddo.” Patton hugs him tightly, rubbing circles against his back, pretending not to notice the sniffling.

“thank you.” Virgil whispers, pulling away, Patton reluctantly letting him go.

“Of course, Virgil. I’ll go get started on some soup and grilled cheese. Everyone needs to eat something, and hopefully we’ll be able to get some soup in him, too. Thank you, Remus. For being honest with me. It… it hurts, but I need to hear it, sometimes. It keeps me moving forwards. Keeps me getting… better.” Patton flashes him a small, tired smile, before ducking away, into the kitchen.

“I’ll go help. He gets shaky, when he’s worried, and he’ll nick himself cutting the vegtables, otherwise.” Roman mumbles, looking back at Remus, hesitating as if he wants to say something, before shaking his head and turning away, a rueful smile on his lips, a promise in his eyes, that they’ll talk later, when he knows what he wants to say.

“He… trusts me?” Remus rolls his eyes, sitting on the arm of the couch.

“Um, duh? You’re the only one who accepted all of us, right of the bat. Sure, you aren’t buddy buddy with us, but you also didn’t just dismiss us. You also listened to us, took us seriously, debated, not disagreeing just because of who we are. You treat us like… equals. That’s a rare thing, around here, Logan.”

“…oh. I… I see. Well. I will be keeping an eye on his temperature, checking in every few hours. If anything changes, fetch me immediately. I’ll get some cool water and towels, for his forehead. See if you can’t coax him into drinking something, as well, he’s likely severely dehydrated. I would suggest an IV, but I doubt his reaction to that would be ideal.”

“Ok. Sounds good, Lo. Thanks.” Logan nods once, before leaving, dropping off a bowl and towels, before vanishing once more. Virgil slumps to the ground, back resting against the couch cushions, hands buried in his face as he lets out a long, shaking breath, trying to stave off the panic creeping up his shoulders.

Remus frowns, brushing back Janus’s hair, dabbing the rag across his forehead, willing with all his might for the fever to go down, for his eyes to open, for him to smirk and say something bitingly sharp.

“Come on, DeeDee. Playing coy doesn’t suit you.” He whispers, eyes flicking to Virgil at the small snort from the emo, who shoves his hands up through his hair, leaving it messy and disheveled, his eyeshadow smeared across his face. If he looks hard enough, he can spot his dark little eyes, shiny, pure pitch little things, like reflective black buttons. “you know I’ve always found your little quirks cute, right?” He asks, not mentioning specifics just in case someone came by. Virgil lets out another short laugh, though the small smile stays on his face, as he shakes his head.

“I think you’re the only one who would describe them that way, Ree, but yeah. I know.” He mumbles, not protesting as Remus slips off the couch and onto the floor beside him, slowly and gently resting an arm around his shoulders. He scoots closer, tucking himself against Remus’s side, letting himself burrow into the warmth, safe and protected. “I’m scared.” Comes the low whisper, and Remus coos, turning to wrap his other arm around him in a warm hug.

“I know, shadow. I know.”

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timbertumbr · 3 years

Text

Boneafide Gamer (A Reverse Harem Fic)

Chapter 3, Merchants and Mascots

First chapter

Quotev Link

Thank you to my friend for helping me with the puns.

List of Usernames with Nicknames-

Blue (Underswap Sans): Magnificent Blueberry

Stretch (Underswap Papyrus): Carrot

Edge (Underfell Papyrus): Captain

Red (Underfell Sans): Red

Mal (Swapfell Sans): Maleficent

Rus (Swapfell Papyrus): Rus

Oak (Horrortale Sans): Oak

Willow (Horrortale Papyrus): Willow

Papyrus (OG or Undertale Papyrus): Coolskeleton95

Sans (OG or Undertale Sans): Sansational

-The next day-

Since you didn’t have to go into work today, you decided to properly grind gold and EXP(erience) in Basic so you can explore a bit more without fear of dying and losing everything. You log into the virtual world and see that there were still a lot of people on the server. Shrugging it off, you are navigating the starting town back to the fields when you pass a certain street and a pair of VERY familiar skeletons.

You backtrack and take a proper look at them, they looked practically identical to Blue and Stretch. The tall one was moving around crates while the short one was… snoozing? In a game? You decided not to question it as you looked at their makeshift stand that had a sign reading “Oak and Willow’s Merchant Stand” Huh, that’s their usernames.

“Straight to the point. Nice,” You complimented aloud, the tall skeleton flinched and turned around quicker than you could say “What the fuuuuu-”

“You!” He said excitedly. You look around the street before pointing to yourself.

“Me?” You ask, earning a nod from the skeleton.

“You’re The Game Store Employee That Made Puns With My Cousin And Brother!” He states matter-of-factly. Wait a minute-

“Yeah, that’s me. But how did you know?”

“I Never Forget A Face, Nyeh Heh Heh! Er… Voice, In This Case,” Impressive. He holds out a hand and you take it.

“My Name Is Willow! And This Is My Brother Oak!” He Introduced.

“Sup,” You hear a familiar deep voice say as you jump from surprise, Oak chuckles.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” You calm your racing heart and accept his apology. Wait, they look different from when you saw them at the store. Oak didn’t have his head wound or big red eye… Perks of being able to make customizable avatars.

“Nice to meet you both, I’m Fart!” The brothers snickered before Willow returned to moving crates.

“Likewise! Unfortunately, We Cannot Talk For Long. We Have Much Work To Do!” You nod and look at the small amount of crates.

“Anyway I could help?” You offer, Willow stacks a crate onto another before looking at you.

“I Appreciate The Offer But I Wouldn’t Want To Trouble You,” Willow explains, you shake your head.

“It’s no trouble for me at all. I’m going to the fields anyway. You DO need more supplies right?” You ask, uncertain if your hunch is right or not. Willow tapped his foot with a thoughtful expression before nodding.

“W-Well, If You Insist. But, With One Condition,” You nod, showing you were listening.

“You Be Our Friend! O-Only If You Want To, Of Course,” Awww, how could you say no to such a gentle kind soul?

“You got yourself a deal buddy! I’ll be back with LOADS of stuff!” You exclaim before running off. Willow squeaked after they left and a rush of excited energy rushed through him.

“Sans! Sans! Did you hear that?! They Called Me ‘Buddy!’” Oak smiles at his brother before letting Willow talk his metaphoric ears off while putting that excited energy to good use by stocking their current items.

Meanwhile, you were excitedly picking up any herbs, creature drops, and anything you could find really. Plus, you’d be able to get the EXP and Gold you needed while helping someone else so it was a win-win!

“SAAAAAAANS!” You hear someone yell from within a nearby cave. Confused and concerned, you place the supplies in your hand into your bag before making your way into the cave. You stop when you see a large cavern with two skeletons surrounded by spiders. WHY IS IT ALWAYS SKELETONS?! “SANS, HELP ME WITH THE SPIDERS!”

“Can’t. ‘M stuck,”

“THERE IS ONE WEB ON YOU!”

“I know, how will I weave my way out of this sticky situation?”

“SAAAAAAANS!” AS much as you wanted to keep hearing their amusing banter, they were about to die from low level spiders. So without wasting any more time, you slayed the spiders and collected the drops.

“WOWIE! THAT WAS NEAT!” Complemented the tall skeleton named “Coolskeleton95.” You smile at him.

“Thanks, but please try to be careful next time. You would’ve lost your stuff if you died,” Coolskeleton nods.

“WILL DO! THANK YOU FART!” The short skeleton named “SANSational” started snickering.

“Yeah, glad you caught wind of our situation,” You snort at the pun while Coolskeleton glared at SANSational. Wait- have you seen Coolskeleton95 somewhere? Hmmm…

“Well, it was nice to meet you two but I gotta drop some supplies off to some new merchants,” You explain, about to leave when Coolskeleton speaks up.

"YOU'RE HELPING OAK AND WILLOW?" He asks excitedly, dumbfounded, you nod.

"WOWIE! SO ARE WE! IS IT ALRIGHT IF WE GO TOGETHER?" So many sweet skeletons!

"Of course!" And off you three went when you suddenly remembered where you saw Coolskeleton95 from.

"Wait a minute, are you Papyrus? The monster mascot?" You suddenly ask, He smiles widely.

“INDEED I AM!” Papyrus exclaims, you stare up at the skeleton in awe.

“Oh wow! It’s such an honor to meet you! You’re the coolest!” Papyrus chuckles.

“WHY THANK YOU! IT’S ALWAYS A PLEASURE TO MEET A FAN!” You smile widely when you realize something. Didn’t Blue call Carrot “Papy?” And Papyrus looks strangely like Willow, Edge, Stretch and Rus! The heck is going on…

Before you could come up with a possible explanation, you all arrived back at the town and in front of Oak and Willow’s Merchant Stand, huh, that was… quick.

“Wowie, You’re Back Already? And With Sans and Papyrus too!” Willow exclaims. Heh, Sansational…

“Yup, and I got some good stuff!” You say as you hand him the bag full of supplies to him, Papyrus doing the same with a small bag. Willow’s eye lights seem to light up.

“Goodness, This Is Quite The Haul. Thank You All So Much!” Papyrus nods proudly, wait, they all have the same avatar with different clothes? This is getting weirder and weirder by the minute.

“YOU’RE WELCOME WILLOW! BUT I MUST BE OFF! I HAVE TO HELP NEW PLAYERS GET USED TO THE GAME! (THIS GAME COULD HELP FURTHER THE BOND BETWEEN MONSTERS AND HUMANS!)” And off he went towards the hub of the town.

“I’m glad I was able to help, do you guys want my Discord?” You ask, Willow squeaks.

“Y-You Don’t Have To-”

“Well, I insist,” You counter quickly, Willow sighs but smiles.

“If That’s The Case, Yes Please!” You friend each other on Discord while Oak was having a quiet conversation with Sans.

“Oookay! Now we can talk whenever we want! It was nice meeting you all but I gotta go get back to grinding,” You explain, Willow smiles.

“Alright, Good Luck Friend Fart!” Willow says as Oak waves. And off you went to the fields again with a short skeleton in tow, Sans. You raise a brow as you look over your shoulder.

“Do you need something?” You ask confused, the short skeleton shrugs.

“Just want to know who my cousins are interacting with,” He states, ah, that makes sense.

“And with that being said, mind me asking some questions while you ‘grind?’” Oh, he’s being cautious. Understandable.

“Sure, I don’t mind,” You answer as you bring out your multiweapon to attack the nearby slimes. And while you attacked slimes, he asked questions. At first the questions were simple, like “favorite food” or “favorite color.” Then it moved to more specific questions like “What is your view on monsters?” “What do you do for a living” You tried your best to answer the questions as vaguely yet informative as you could since, well, he was a stranger. He seemed content with the answers.

“Welp, that’s all I needed to know. Thanks for letting me rib ya pal. You have fun with your ‘grinding.’ See ya,” Sans says before walking away. Okay… that was odd. You shrugged it off and continued grinding until the crack of dusk.

Right, now onto the fun part. Actual Plot.

Next Chapter

#Not this shit again...#Underswap Papyrus #Underswap Sans #Underfell Papyrus #Underfell Sans #Swapfell Sans #Swapfell Papyrus #Horrortale Papyrus #Horrortale Sans #Undertale Sans #Undertale Papyrus #Sans #Papyrus #X Reader #Reverse Harem

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flintwoodandco · 3 years

Text

Of Masks, Magic, & Falling In Love

Summary: Marcus Flint is Spectre, a reluctant protector of the world.

Amongst the chaos of being a superhero, hiding his identity while being a rugby player, Marcus also has to deal with his rival, Oliver Wood, and not strangling the man every chance he gets.

As if his life couldn’t get any more off-balance, there’s Marcus’ predicament with Illusion, another superhero he finds himself liking a little too much.

What’s a hero to do?

Rating: T

Genre: Superhero AU, Enemies to Lovers, Banter, Minor Violence, Falling in Love

Words: 3480

A/N: a gift for @acespacejay !!! thank you so much for this prompt!! it was a fun challenge!!

AO3

When the call for heroes echoed around the world, Marcus ran.

For years he only had to worry about himself, managing his powers on his own. The weight of the world was terrifying and Marcus wasn’t ready to let everyone down. It was easy to hide really. With his questionable past, nobody sought him out. Nobody but Illusion.

Marcus didn’t know where to start with him. Illusion was a loud, excitable hero, ready to help at a moment’s notice, jumping headfirst into danger. It had been an accident that they met. Marcus had stumbled onto a villain’s lair and, well, he couldn’t just let them get away with their nefarious plot. Identity be damned, Marcus jumped into the fire and managed to catch the villain by surprise. Of course, with invisibility powers, Marcus could catch an attentive watch dog off-guard. The situation was under control, but then Illusion and his many clones popped up, almost sending everything into chaos.

By the end, Marcus simply fled. It was the only option, it seemed, and Marcus didn’t want to be dragged into the league of superheroes. Especially not by one such as Illusion.

Eventually time caught up with him and Marcus reluctantly joined the battalion though not without his conditions. He worked alone, took on missions he knew he could handle.

When he wasn’t working, Marcus found his solace in rugby. Out in the field, he didn’t need his powers. His strength, wit and skill, led him to victory without fail. Well, almost without fail.

The thorn in his side, Oliver Wood, was forever a challenge to be reckoned with. None of Marcus’ tricks worked against him and as soon as Marcus tried something new, there was Oliver blocking him.

“How about you try playing like your life depends on it?” Oliver called from the opposite side of the field.

It was rich words coming from an ordinary human like him. Marcus had risked life and limb, always sleeping with one eye open for the sake of humanity.

Gritting his teeth, Marcus grabbed his passes, found his opening. He would show Oliver once and for all who owned the rugby field. Oliver came closer and closer as Marcus charged towards him. He was almost there before all went white.

Marcus didn’t make the winning score.

Oliver’s team had one-upped his own yet again, leaving Marcus in a state of loathing. If only he could give Oliver a taste of his own medicine. Semi-finals were coming up and no doubt Marcus’ team would have to face Oliver’s again. Redemption was so close, yet ages away, driving Marcus to practice harder and longer every minute he could.

It was only when his teammates worried about him that Marcus scaled back, giving in to an invitation of drinks at a local pub.

The evening went on well enough until familiar faces appeared and the tension in the air grew thick. With two rivalry rugby teams staring each other down, the pub owner was quick to threaten banning both teams unless they agreed to get along on the premise.

At this, Oliver beamed, wrapping an arm around Marcus’ shoulder. “We’ll get along fine, won’t we, Flint?”

Marcus grit his teeth and weakly attempted to throw Oliver off. “Like hell we will.”

Oliver’s smile did not falter and he remained by Marcus’ side as the two teams accepted their fates with grumbles and snarky remarks.

“Come now,” Oliver shook his head as he took a sip from his drink. “Don’t tell me you haven’t been dying to talk to someone about the game between Westchester and Fairmeadow.”

Marcus’ face gave him away and Oliver dove in, pointing out certain plays, the end result of the game.

“Well, Charles really should have dodged Blythe’s tackle,” Marcus slurred, now more than a few drinks in.

Oliver’s laugh filled his ears, a strange fuzzy warmth overcoming Marcus. “You on a first name basis with ol’ Charley?”

“You’ve got the nickname for him,” Marcus retorted, jabbing a finger at Oliver.

Oliver hummed in return, his body swaying dangerously close to Marcus’. “And perhaps more than that.”

It didn’t take long for Marcus to put two and two together and he smirked, looking Oliver dead in the eye. “You looking to sleep around with all the rugby captains then?”

“Mm, perhaps,” Oliver grinned with a coy sip from his drink.

Marcus blamed the alcohol, but what happened next was a memory that was never far from his daily thoughts from then on.

He leaned in, grabbing Oliver by the back of the head and planting a sloppy kiss on his lips. Oliver was quick to reciprocate and before Marcus knew it, he was being dragged out of the pub and into the quiet streets.

“Thought you didn’t like me,” Oliver teased, his mouth brushing over Marcus’.

“You’re right. I don’t like you,” Marcus shot back before meeting Oliver in another heated kiss.

When they finally reached Marcus’ flat, tangled limbs and lost clothing led the two men into a night of whirlwind fantasies before having to wake up to the harsh reality of morning.

Marcus woke alone,

A hastily written note on his bedside table was all that was left of Oliver, along with memories of questionable choices. This wasn’t what he wanted. It couldn’t be.

Marcus tried to forget about it, but all he could see was Oliver. All he could think about was the next time they would see each other.

It was agony not knowing where Oliver was, what he was doing. So many nights, Marcus would find himself far from sleep, staring at the ceiling with the man on his mind. It was as if nothing else existed.

The buzz of his phone pulled Marcus from his thoughts and he picked it up with a sigh. In an instant, he perked up. It was Illusion. Though it took Marcus a while to come around, he found he enjoyed Illusion’s company. He couldn’t put a finger on why however, let alone how he ended up with his number.

An invitation to fly was all Marcus needed to dress and head out into the breezy night. Fastening his mask on, Marcus breathed in the night air deeply, almost giddy with excitement for what the night would bring. Diving head first out of his window, Marcus closed his eyes as everything faded away.

The wind whistled past his ears, the ground growing ever closer, yet a smirk remained on his face. There was no fear, no tightness in his stomach. With a contented sigh, Marcus summoned the strength within himself and his body snapped upwards, suspended in the air.

The citizens on the ground didn’t notice his presence or perhaps they didn’t care as Marcus weaved between buildings, zooming around the bustling city.

Landing on the domed roof of the library, Marcus stared out at the lights, reminding him of his responsibility, his gift.

“Fancy meeting you here, Spectre.”

Marcus turned to the voice, unable to stop his smile as he was greeted by a familiar masked face. “You’re the one who invited me out, Illusion.”

“Ah, so you do like me!” he beamed, joining Marcus alongside the rooftop edge.

“Just because I remember your name, doesn’t mean I like you,” Marcus scowled.

Undeterred, Illusion leaned against the railing, focused on Marcus and nothing else. “Well, when I first showed up in the city, I was sure you were going to have my head.”

“That’s because this is my city to protect,” Marcus butted in. “I was doing just fine before you came along.”

“But isn’t this fun?” Illusion grinned. “You, me, the threat of the end of the world?”

Marcus pursed his lips. He wouldn’t admit it outright, but he did admire the other man. They were both reckless in their own manner, utilizing their powers in unorthodox ways. It kept their rivalry, or perhaps friendship, strong and Marcus found himself looking forward to the next encounter with Illusionist.

“I suppose,” is all Marcus offered, but it was enough for Illusion.

He gave Marcus a friendly nudge before turning about to look at the city as well. The two fell into a contented silence, a warm breeze passing between them. This was nice. The calm moments in between saving the world were cherished. Here, with Illusion, he didn’t have to put on a show. He could even take off his mask if he wanted.

The thought had struck Marcus time and time again. Here he was, in a tangled web with Illusion, yet this was the one person he trusted, the one that understood the world as he did.

“You’ve got that look in your eyes again,” Illusion teased, breaking Marcus from his trance.

Marcus turned his face away with a huff. “What look?”

The hand on his cheek sent a jolt up Marcus’ spine and he didn’t dare look at Illusion. Despite his inner protests, Marcus allowed the other man’s hand to guide him until they were facing each other directly.

“That one of longing. Wondering what our lives would be like had we not been given our powers.”

Illusion read him like a book and Marcus caved easily. As he stared at Illusion, Marcus watched his face inch closer, anticipation rising in his chest. His mind screamed at him to run, his heart told him to stay, so Marcus froze, letting Illusion do as he wished.

That was, before a siren shook the air, breaking the spell between them.

“Fuck,” Marcus swore, staring at the beacons. “Guess that’s us.”

Illusion replied with a heavy sigh, jumping off the roof first and flying into the night. Marcus was quick to follow, but his thoughts were a flurry, jumping from one thing to the next. He had to focus on the mission–whatever it was–but all he could see was Illusion. Illusion’s touch, his strength, his gentle demeanor, it was all rolled up into one frustrating man that Marcus couldn’t be without.

“Spectre!” Illusion shouted past the wind. “The metal factory!”

Marcus furrowed his brows, ticking off villains in his head. The factory had been abandoned for years, but it was not without its valuables, left behind as its doors shut for good.

“Of course,” Marcus muttered to himself as he veered off to the right.

With Illusion a few buildings away from him, the two shot off, following the cacophonous booms and shakes. Police were circling the building, but none could make their way in, not with the entrance blocked by a massive sheet of ice. Diving in through a large shattered window, Marcus crouched down on the steel walkway, watching the sparks that flew as the villains cut through metal with mechanical saws.

“Looks like Helix is back in town,” Illusion whispered right next to Marcus’ ear and nearly caused Marcus to scream.

He shot a glare at Illusion before turning back to the scene, eyeing the workers that moved quickly from the cut metal to the moving trucks.

Steadying his breath, Marcus embraced the shiver in his body as he became invisible. He let his fingers graze along Illusion’s hand, a small laugh bubbling up as the man tensed. Then with a nod, Illusion followed Marcus’ lead forming several images of himself that then scampered off in different directions.

“On three?” Illusion checked.

“On three,” Marcus replied and climbed over the railing.

The countdown began and Marcus rushed at the closest workers, taking a few down with precise kicks and punches. The chaos began, yells echoing in Marcus’ ears as the enemy helplessly tried to hit him. Teasing them, Marcus appeared for a moment before vanishing again, sprinting toward the main target. Once Helix was taken out, the rest would be a piece of cake.

“Twenty!” illusion boasted as another one of his mirror images sent someone flying.

“Rich, considering I’ve got thirty five!” Marcus retorted.

He hadn’t been counting but he wasn’t going to let Illusion get the best of him. Smashing another face into the wall next to him, Marcus spotted his opening.

With Helix distracted, Marcus shot off, landing a blow across his face. The masked man stumbled back, shooting out a beam in Marcus’ direction. It grazed past Marcus’ ear, a ringing shaking his eardrums as he stumbled to the side. Just as he was ready to grab at Helix, one of Illision’s clones slammed into the villain, sending him to the ground.

It was time to breathe a sigh of relief, even when the clone was blasted away. Then, Marcus saw the blood, the gaping wound on Illusion’s shoulder. All clones dissolved away, leaving the true Illusion bleeding out. Face contorting into anger, Marcus grabbed hold of Helix, his emotions letting his camouflage fall. The two struggled, punches and kicks thrown along a steel walkway. Blind rage fueled every one of Marcus’ moves yet no matter how hard he fought, Helix wasn’t going down. The mocking laughter from Helix cut Marcus down to his core, tearing down his morals one by one. Justice be damned, Marcus summoned a deep power within himself, stealing the very breath from Helix. As the villain struggled to breathe, Marcus held him up until Helix passed out before throwing him to the side.

Chest heaving, Marcus thought to do more, but remembering Illusion shook him from his onslaught and he rushed over to the other hero. His body lay crumpled on the ground, blood painting the ground around him and he was still. Holding a hand to the wound on Illusion’s shoulder, Marcus lifted up his head, panic rising in his chest.

“Don’t fall asleep, back up is almost here,” Marcus tried to reassure, a lump forming in his throat.

At this, Illusion’s eyes cracked open and he smiled weakly. “Worried about me?” Blood dribbled from the corner of his lip and he hacked up another clot, sending more red streams down his chin.

“Of course I am!” Marcus exclaimed. Biting down on his lip, Marcus ignored the sting in his eyes, the ache in his chest. “I can’t lose you too.”

Confusion and heartbreak swarmed in Illusion’s eyes before he let out another grave laugh. “Never thought I’d hear that from you. Well, just in case I don’t make it…”

With all of his strength, Illusion dragged a hand up to his face and pulled his mask down. When familiarity hit Marcus square in the gut, he reached for his own mask, only to find his face bare, his identity lost between fighting Helix and rushing over to Illusion. There was no going back now. All Marcus could do was squeeze his eyes shut, pull Oliver close until their foreheads were touching.

“Should’ve known it was you,” Marcus bit, his voice breaking on the last word.

“Keep my secret?” Oliver rasped and Marcus nodded, fastening his mask back on for him.

Sirens rang in his ears, lights flashed all around, and Marcus was numb as Oliver was taken from his arms, rushed away to the hospital. All he could focus on was the beat of his own heart, his struggle to understand all that had happened.

He didn’t know how he had missed it. From the taunts on the field to their teasing as they saved the world again and again, it should’ve been obvious that Oliver had always been at his side, yet Marcus almost didn’t want to believe it. They were rivals, different as could be. Or maybe that was the lie Marcus tried to tell himself. He thought back to their night together, the attraction shared between them. Surely that wasn’t made out of hatred at all.

When a violent shove to his shoulder snapped him to attention, Marcus glared at a medic fussing over him, mistaking his presence as an innocent bystander than one who had helped with the fight.

Marcus blinked and in a second all his senses came back full force. He tried to get to his feet only to find strong arms helping him up.

“Easy there,” the medic warned, her face wrought with worry. “What were you doing here anyway?”

“I...homeless. Was going to stay the night here until all this happened,” Marcus stuttered through his lie. “Is Illusion…?”

“Not too sure, but he’s not one to go down easily. Do you need help finding a place to stay tonight?” The medic’s grip was still tight on Marcus and he gave a quick shake of his head.

He had to get to the hospital. Pretending he needed some water, Marcus then made his get-away. He shot off into the night, all but crashing into the hospital lobby when he finally got there. Several secret codes and barred doors later, Marcus finally made it to the room that held Oliver, several robotic machines crowded around the bed and fussing over him.

Brown hair edged into his peripheral and Marcus waited for the doctor to speak first.

Dr. Granger had set up this facility all on her own, specializing in healing those with powers, protecting their identities while under medical care.

“Illusion had overused his powers, made too many clones,” Dr. Granger spoke, gentle but straightforward. As usual, her mind-reading took care of Marcus having to speak. “His body is finally catching up, but he will need to recover here for a few days.”

Nodding his understanding, Marcus then found himself with a decision he never had to make before. He could stay overnight, be there when Oliver awoke the next morning. Then again, they weren’t anything more than acquaintances. He didn’t owe anything to this man.

Except, he did.

Accepting himself, his powers, had been a nightmare for Marcus. He was ready to throw it all away when he first ran into Illusion. The man had been an annoyance, bugging Marcus with incessant questions. It was only with reluctance that Marcus allowed Illusion to see him for nights after that.

Then, like a switch, everything changed. Marcus was happy, smiling, amongst all the competitions between himself and Illusion. Life was turning for the better and Marcus had fallen for the hero and the man behind the mask.

With a nod to Dr. Granger, Marcus edged into Oliver’s room, careful to not get in any robot’s way as he sat in the corner. Minutes passed by like an eternity and when the final robot left the room, Marcus dragged his chair over to the bedside and stared at Oliver’s sleeping figure.

Had he not seen the wound, it would appear that Oliver was just resting after a hard fight. If only it was just so. Marcus sank, his worry tiring him as he replayed everything in his mind. Yes, Oliver would be okay, but how soon that would be was uncertain, eating away at Marcus’ heart. Surely there was something he could have done. He had almost taken care of Helix before everything went to hell.

Exhaustion eventually took over and Marcus was woken suddenly by the clearing of a throat. Sitting up straight, Marcus hastily rubbed his eyes, wincing a little at the sunlight that poured into the room. When his vision focused, he was met by Oliver staring at him, the corner of his mouth quirked. The man didn’t look much better from the night before, pale face, tired eyes, but at least he was alive.

“Sleep well?” Oliver rasped out.

“No,” Marcus couldn’t help retort and then readjusted in his seat. “How are you?”

Oliver sighed, a slight hitch in his breath. “Could be worse. Been worse.”

Marcus could only imagine, nodding his understanding. An awkward silence filled the air causing Marcus to look away. Where to go from here was a mystery and Marcus was too tired to solve it.

Both men wore matching frowns, trailing into their own thoughts. Marcus shot back to the one night stand, his muddled feelings hitting him like a truck. He liked Illusion. He didn’t hate Oliver. There was no need to keep him at arm’s length. Not anymore.

“Alright,” Oliver spoke with conviction, shaking Marcus from his trailing mind. “What if after I’m all healed up, we meet up for drinks? One drink. You as Marcus, me as Oliver.”

“No masks, no secrets,” Marcus muttered to himself.

“Exactly.”

Biting his tongue, Marcus summoned the courage to look at Oliver. His eyes were gentle, shining, and through everything, the past, the present, Marcus’ chest ached, his stomach churned.

It wouldn’t hurt to try.

Maybe, in this world of unknowns, Marcus could finally be okay. He could have a friend, something more, who truly understood the complex workings of a superhero’s life.

As Oliver’s hand reached out to him, Marcus met him halfway, their fingers lacing together. They didn’t have to solve everything now.

For the moment, they could just linger and let their minds wander into the what-if’s that would soon await them outside of this little room.

#flintwood #marcus flint #oliver wood #indigo writes shit #acespacejay

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clawtitties · 4 years

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‘’Liar Liar’’ chapter 3 (Currywise x reader SFW)

TRIGGER WARNINGS APPLY TO THIS WORK : ABUSE / EMOTIONAL MANIPULATION, THE ROMANTICIZATION OF SUCH THINGS IS NOT THE INTENT OF THIS WORK WHAT SO EVER. PLEASE STAY SAFE.

Note from Noa :

Here’s the third chapter! I feel like I’ve improved at least a little bit these past days I’ve spent writing. But yeah, enjoy this one! It’s definitely drawing to a close and I’ll have to eventually think of a new project. It’s been fun writing again though, so it’s not an issue as long as I can keep the ideas flowing!

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You were sitting in his lap staring at your hands as nonchalantly as possible. There was so much on your mind that day, you could barely hear what Papa was going on about. Time seemed slower than ever, all your senses heightened as you tried to stay attentive. Your attempts amounted to nothing, you felt yourself slipping back into your own head. He let out a comically exaggerated sigh and directed his gaze at you. Then he spoke.

‘’Alright, alright. What’s wrong, doll?’’

Suddenly you were snapped back into reality, everything seemed overwhelming now. At least a minute ago you were blissfully deep in your thoughts. You had to take a moment to gather yourself. ‘’I’m fine- Pennywise-’’ you said, trying desperately to mentally be literally anywhere else but sat in his lap where he could very well ask the wrong questions, you’d give the wrong answers and he’d do god knows what to you. He raised his eyebrows at you. It was clear he still wasn’t believing an ounce of your bullshit, which was understandable after that ‘’stunt’’ you pulled. At least he thought it was a stunt. That couldn’t be further away from the truth.

He said nothing.

‘’R-really it’s fine Pennywise!’’ you stammered out. He gave you no other response than an exaggerated roll of his eyes. You knew what he was thinking. You were being no fun. Truth be told it’s hard to be any fun when you’re continuously weaving yourself deeper and deeper into a web of lies that’s surely going to bite you in the ass sooner or later.

‘’Come closer to Papa, doll’’ he said in a low grueling tone. You hesitated. ‘’Come on now, I won’t bite’’ he continued and flashed a crooked smile at you. Somehow you very much doubted that he wouldn’t bite your face off then and there. Still, you obliged. Faster than you could even fully adjust to being so close to a world-eating monster his sharp yellow teeth snapped dangerously close to your face. You flinched and almost fell from his lap before he grabbed you with deceptive strength. His pompous laugh echoed through your small apartment.

‘’Gotcha pretty good there, don’t fall now’’ he said, holding back that same highfalutin laugh. If this was his way of having fun with someone you wanted nothing to do with it. Still you let out a nervous laugh, your eyes darting around the apartment out of anxiety. ‘’Why so on edge all of a sudden sweetcheeks?’’ he chuckled, pulling you closer to him. You were now laying against his silky clown getup while he lounged in your old recliner. At least you thought it to be yours, there was no way of really knowing at this point. The thought of a cursed clown recliner made you let out a choked back laugh.

‘’There’s my girl!’’ that pompous laugh echoed through your apartment again. ‘’Wasn’t too hard to cheer ya up now was it?’’ he chuckled to himself while roughly patting your back. Something still wasn’t right. The way he was acting overly affectionate with you didn’t seem right for a monstrous clown. You tried to console yourself with the thought that maybe his looks were deceiving, maybe he wasn’t as evil as he looks. The sharp teeth really didn’t help his case.

His affection was starting to make you sick. You felt like day after day you were more and more wrapped around the bastard’s gloved fingers.

...

You woke up the next morning in your bed. The clown- Papa- was nowhere to be seen. You were alone with your thoughts again. Blissfully alone. Maybe if you tried hard enough you could just forget that Papa even exists. Maybe if you just admitted yourself to a hospital he’d leave you alone. Maybe if you turned yourself in to the police for some atrocity they’d put you in prison for long enough that he’d leave you alone.

Being alone in a closed off space would probably be much more torturous than being in your own apartment where you have the freedom to escape if things go south. Besides, he isn’t here right now. You’re safe for the time being.

You heard footsteps. God fucking damn-

‘’Hullo darling, missed me?’’ his voice was like gravel in your ears. Like sandpaper being dragged across your skin. You couldn’t even be alone for 15 minutes. You didn’t want him to be here. You just wanted this all to end, and for the wretched clown to leave you the hell alone. You knew he wanted nothing other than for you to be wrapped around his fingers for the rest of your days. He was leaning against the door frame leading to your bedroom.

You shut your eyes as tight as possible, beginning to shake again. ‘’Aw, what’s wrong puppy?’’ he said. His tone sounded sickeningly sweet and condescending. You kept your eyes shut. Maybe if you didn’t acknowledge him he’d get bored and go away. Maybe, just maybe-

A voice echoed through your head. Your eyes shot open. What the fuck? It was very clearly him. He was in your head now. You started crying and begging for mercy. He did nothing but mock you. It was all clear now. It was either him or you.

You had to do something. Fast.

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Another note from Noa :

well that was it for this chapter! Thank you to anyone who’s reading these. I really doubt anyone is since the pennywise community is dead-er than ever, but I’ve been having fun writing this stuff! third reminder that if you wish to be tagged in my writing posts just let me know!

#pennywise #daddywise #pennywise x reader #papa penny #papawise #currywise #pennywise x you #pennywise imagine #pennywise fanfiction #papawise x reader #IT 1990

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the-last-cuddlebender · 4 years

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Webs We Weave

A spider has decided to move in. Aang has decided to let it stay. ...Zuko and Sokka did not agree on this new roommate, and they will do what needs to be done.

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A/N: This was originally a vent-write (because I had a horrifying in-my-face encounter with an airborne spider) that #1. I had way to much fun writing and #2. Spiraled far beyond what I originally imagined lmao

(Also jumping spiders are tiny and precious and wear raindrops as lil hats and Aang would take a bullet for one.)

Rating: G (S for Short Aang is bae)

Words: 2,376

ArchiveOfOurOwn

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Aang had a considerable grip for someone more than two heads shorter than who he was trying to restrain. The young Avatar managed to hold Sokka back, nonetheless. “Stop it, guys! Please! You can’t kill him!”

Sokka shrugged Aang off. He side-stepped the airbender before he could weasel past him. The kitchen wasn’t big enough for Aang to do a tricky-trick on him this time.

Sokka almost felt bad when Aang’s cheeks puffed red and his fists clenched. Sokka had hit his growth spurt, so Aang had to tilt his head vertical to meet his (in all but blood) big brother’s eyes. He stood on his tip-toes, and Sokka had to bank on his warrior’s discipline not to laugh when Aang couldn’t even get his head close to his shoulder-level.

“You guys can’t kill him! It’s just—It’s just wrong!”

“Yeah, we can. Easily, in fact.”

“Sokka!”

Sokka rolled his eyes not for the first time that night.

Behind Sokka and just beyond Aang’s reach, Zuko crouched close to the very small, very fuzzy, somewhat colorful eight-legged critter not even a full half-inch big. It huddled into the corner under the umbrella of its tiny web. Its legs looked almost too short for its body. Six of its beady eyes blankly stared at them, but the two eyes at the forefront—which were so big they almost looked like they were glued on—shined with a waxy gloss that rivaled the tears gathering in Aang’s eyes.

“B-But you can’t! Every life is sacred!”

Zuko made his finger into a blowtorch and crouched like a prince performing a formal execution on a war criminal. “It’s the natural order, Aang.”

“But you can’t!”

Aang tried to dart past, but Sokka snagged him by the scruff of his robes. The short airbender yelped as his feet left the ground. He was as light as his element. He squirmed not too unlike Momo when he refused to bathe, but Sokka held him higher so his kicking legs couldn’t even toe the floor.

Aang’s face bloomed several shades of frustration and embarrassment, and Sokka made a mental note to thank Suki for teaching him some elemental chi-blocking.

Because judging by the look on his little brother’s face, he would have been taking the brunt of all four elements five-times-over by now.

“Sokka! Put me down!”

“Sorry, but no can do, sport.” Sokka turned his head. “Do it, Zuko.”

Aang thrashed harder. “No, don’t! Zuko, please—!”

Katara—winded and whipping her head around like she was looking for a horde of assassins—appeared from around the corner like Aang’s plea had summoned her from across the continent. A warrior’s discipline and experience let her take in the scene at a glance. Sokka nearly rolled his eyes again when her glare zeroed-in on and burned him in particular.

Sokka wanted to rub his head. Spirits, he had thought the constant headaches he got during the war would go away, but with stuff like this always happening, it’s no wonder they were getting worse and worse. It felt like his head was about to split in two.

Katara waterbended her liquid ammo back into her waterskin, though she didn’t become any less of a threat. “Sokka, put him down. Now. And Zuko, what—What in the world are you guys doing?”

“What must be done.”

Katara cocked her jaw at Zuko, grim-faced like a true executioner. “That explains so much and yet so little.”

Aang struggled more, but Sokka just held him higher and away from himself.

“Katara! Katara, they’re gonna kill Bartholomew!”

Katara looked affronted. “Bartholomew?” She glared between Zuko and Sokka with equal levels of disgust.

Zuko and Sokka shared a side-eyed glance and an exasperated sigh.

“Katara, look,” Sokka said, gesticulating with even Aang who was hanging from his grasp like a polarbeardog pup by its scruff, “the spider has to go. It’s a pest, and Zuko and I are not going to let those things curl up and make their home wherever they damn well please. They can hide in the rafters or whatever, but not out in the most open corner of the kitchen. If you let them see that there’s no threat in places where we don’t want them, then, before you know it, we’ll have dozens of them in the kitchen.”

Zuko sagely nodded. His finger was still a torch. Bartholomew’s six small and two abnormally large eyes reflected the red glow of its would-be murder weapon but were otherwise as black as ink and void of fear. “Have to make an example out of it.”

“Thank you, Zuko, for listening to reason.”

“He’s not hurting anything!” Aang gave up his struggle and hung limp in Sokka’s one-handed grip. The young Avatar’s pooled robes made him look even smaller, and Sokka could feel the blinding rays of his wounded pigmypuma eyes getting bigger. “Bartholomew just likes to hang out and watch you cook and—”

Sokka held Aang to his eye-level and got nearly nose-to-nose with his little brother. “It is a spider, Aang.”

Aang poked Sokka’s chest. “He is my friend, Sokka.”

Katara crossed her arms. Despite themselves, Sokka and Zuko both flinched. “Zuko, put that out. Sokka, put Aang down. Now.”

Sokka, in fact, did not put Aang down. He returned her glare with his own and subtly stepped between his love and his sister as he felt the heat of her glare reach the capacity to melt steel bars.

“I can’t do that, Katara.”

“Well, you’d better figure out how before I make you, Sokka.”

The searing whish of Zuko’s finger-torch got stronger. Aang pawed Sokka’s hand on the back of his robe’s collar and cursed his genetics into oblivion for not having hit his presumed growth spurt yet.

“Zuko, don’t! Please!”

Zuko growled. He put his torch out and threw his arms up. “Fine! Whatever! Just give me a cup or something and I’ll take it outside!”

Aang looked appalled. “You can’t!”

“Why the hell not?”

Aang fiddled with the end of his robe. “He’s—Bartholomew’s been inside too long. He won’t know how to survive outdoors. And he isn’t—”

Sokka groaned. His urge to bang his migraine-aching head into the wall was becoming more of a compulsion that bordered on a need.

“—the outdoor spiders don’t like him? And what if—”

“Do it, babe.”

The torch was back. “On it.”

“No!”

Aang got free of Sokka’s grip but didn’t stay free for long. Airbender or not, Sokka was a big brother, and he easily scooped the young monk off his feet again in a light but firm headlock. Aang wiggled and pushed against him, but Sokka tightened his grip. “Bartholomew!” Aang cried out as he reached out to his tiny insect friend.

Katara snarled. “Sokka, put him down! He’s not—Zuko. Don’t. You. Dare.”

Zuko paused his finger-torch an inch away from its target. The chilly voice that bent the Southern Raiders to their knees crawled like frost freezing over into his ears.

The pressure in the room nearly crushed them. The universe rippled in a strange way that made the hairs on the napes of their necks stand on end. He and Sokka looked at each other before turning inches at a time to face the tempest-made-flesh who was glaring them down.

Katara’s eyes held the promise of bloodshed, and her voice bellied the threat of major bodily harm. Arms crossed and hackles raised like a sabretooth-mooselion, she stalked towards them.

“You two are not going to lay hand or foot on Bartholomew. Got it?”

Sokka rolled his eyes again and tightened his slippery grip on the escape-artist whining and wiggling in his hold. He wound one of his arms around Aang’s middle to pin him flush against him. “Or what? Are you going to freeze our—”

“Don’t give her any ideas, you idiot,” Zuko hissed. He put his fire out and stood, though he subtly-but-not-as-subtly-as-he-thought shimmied away from the heated waterbender so that he had partial cover behind his boyfriend.

Sokka turned to him with half-lidded eyes and a half-blinding migraine. “Not you, too. Come on, guys, it’s a spider. It’s not like it’s a puppy or—”

Sokka looked down. The kicked puppy trapped in his arms was looking up. Aang’s grey eyes were miserable puddles of pleading that were so dilated that Sokka almost fell into their tear-filled abyss.

“Please, Sokka?”

Aang’s voice broke, and when Katara clasped her hands to her chest in a heartbroken aw while simultaneously letting her brother know her very clear intent to shed blood should Aang shed a tear, Sokka rolled his eyes so hard that his whole head nearly rolled with them.

Aang tugged the arm around his neck with his one free hand, and he somehow changed his facial anatomy to make his eyes even bigger.

“Pretty please?”

Sokka sighed. “Fine. You can keep the damn spider.”

Aang smiled so brightly that Sokka had to look away to save himself from being blinded. He let Aang go and tried to nurse the now full headache he had.

Aang raced to his pest-pet and cooed it like it was a newborn. Zuko touched Sokka’s shoulder to offer his condolences and share his frustrations...and to shimmy further out of Katara’s path.

Katara smiled and nodded like they were soldiers in battle who had satisfied their honor. Sokka stuck his tongue out at her. She returned the gesture in kind. Zuko backed him up, and Katara grumbled and looked away in defeat.

Zuko and Sokka, without looking, shared a small high-five.

Aang zoomed up to them and gave his de facto big brothers a group hug. He jumped on the balls of his feet and thanked them profusely. Thankfully, he couldn’t see the moment when the two of them went braindead to his rambling and just nodded when he stopped for breath.

Behind her boyfriend, Katara kissed Aang’s arrow. She plopped her head on top of his as she wrapped her arms around his waist. Aang placed his hands on hers and smiled so wide that the force of it had Zuko and Sokka bracing themselves from being blown backward.

Katara tugged her rambling boyfriend flush against her chest, and she protectively curled around him. When her eyes met their others’, she stuck her tongue out again.

Sokka huffed. He side-stepped Zuko and mirrored his sister’s maneuver with his boyfriend.

Zuko blushed in Sokka’s arms, Aang redirected his smile to his Sifu Hotman, and Sokka returned his sister's stuck-out tongue with a hidden middle finger in addition.

Aang, with his smile creeping dangerously close to a supernova, looked back and forth between the water tribe siblings until Zuko, done with this and ready for a nap or a drink or both, gave the airbender a partial head-pat like he really was a polarbeardog.

...(later that day)

“No! No, Sokka, wait! You can’t!”

“I can! I will! I’m gonna! And you will watch me! Now get out of the way, Aang!”

“But it’s true love! Petunia is his Forever Girl!”

“I cannot put into words the depth and intensity of the fuck I do not give! Now move!”

“Think of their children, Sokka!”

“I AM THINKING OF THEIR CHILDREN!”

Zuko saved his and Katara’s boyfriends from bodily harm while Katara quickly but quietly set up the terrarium she and Zuko had special-ordered for Bartholomew (and Petunia, now, as well).

Aang still kept it in the kitchen, though. He didn't want to stress out his ‘lil babu’ and his ‘lil babu’s babu’ by moving them to a change in scenery.

Sokka (gently but with passion) flicked the corner of the glass whenever he walked by. Zuko flipped it the bird.

Aang saw neither action. He just smiled and melted into Katara’s hug as he relished thinking about how well all of his friends were getting along.

Bartholomew and Petunia watched on from their new home in the corner on the counter.

And they watched.

And though they were nocturnal, they always crawled out of their hide when the humans’ voices drew near so that they could watch them some more.

...That night—Petunia’s first in the house, to Sokka’s dismay—Bartholomew and Petunia crawled onto the clump of bark and moss outside their burrow. The moon was full, and some of its light reached the terrarium just like Aang had hoped their minor change of scenery would do.

They curled their thin legs together and sat in the strongest of the moon’s rays. And, once everything was quiet and all were asleep, Bartholomew turned to his companion and shared his thoughts with her.

/This Avatar is a strange one./

/Very./ Petunia curled closer to his side. /The two males are very quick to violence, it seems. The Avatar’s mate, as well. I’m surprised you didn’t blast the firebender into the Spirit Wilds./

/I was going to, but I was curious to see how the situation would unfold. I probably should have taken a different form. The lemur and skybison said their master would take interest instead of offense to this form. They failed to mention the opinions of the others sharing his dwelling./

/I’m sorry, my love. It won’t be too much longer, now, will it? Because I swear on the Ancients themselves, if the firebender’s mate flicks the glass one more time, I will flick him into—/

/Calm yourself, my dear. It won’t be too long. The web is woven, and we need him near if it is to work./

/I suppose that is one benefit to this form, then./

/Aye./ Bartholomew drummed all of his legs like he was shifting his weight impatiently. /He is the last one Hei Bai took into his forest during the Solstice. Thankfully, it hasn’t festered long enough to corrupt his spirit./

/Because of the firebender?/

Bartholomew pawed the bits of a dead leaf and would have grumbled if he had a voice. /Yes. And he’s lucky, too, because otherwise I would not have hesitated to banish him and his mate to the Spirit Wilds./

Petunia touched her legs to his and gently herded him back to their den. One of her legs gently tapped his back. /I’m sure you would have, dear./

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The spiders know all

(Many thanks and more to @coldmentalitystudentme @thecaroliner for helping me settle what these dorks’ reactions to spiders might be!!!)

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