#AND I AM SO GRATEFUL TO HAVE SUCH A WONDERFUL PARTNER LIKE SAND

[gingervitus]

Davrin Week Day Five: Woodworking

Oh hello friends.

The end of this week was... not my favorite end to the week, and then I ended up taking a three hour nap today. SO HERE I AM A LITTLE LATE BUT THAT'S OK.

thank you as always to @datvcompanionweeks for hosting these super wonderful events.

Here's some more modern AU.

The Sun (3,728 words)

It has been a quarter after six o’clock for the past two hours.

Silvia picks absently at her nails. The monitor of the computer she’s slumped in front of glows back at her in the dark room. A blank schedule has been haunting her for the past week. Arguably, several blank schedules have been nipping at her heels. Gnawing at her insides. Picking apart her brain when she tries to go to sleep at night. Her fingers drag through her hair, balls of her hands pressing up against her closed eyes. 

Things are easier when she can just count through different routine variations to fall asleep instead of wondering what is going to happen over the coming months.

Life, though, does not seem to hand her any problems that have easy fixes. She’s been holed up so long that her business partner (and future sister-in-law however the fuck that happened) came to check on her before her last class for the evening started. “Are you still having those boy problems, Via?” Hearing this situation referred to in such a way makes her cringe even a half hour later. “Did you break up with your firefighter?” The support is always appreciated. She should really be grateful for such love around her. “Do you want to?”

She does not. 

Mostly, she wants to duck out of work early, drive over to Davrin’s place, and fight with him. Scream until her lungs give out and then fall asleep in his arms. She wants to tell him he’s a stubborn shithead that needs to figure this whole thing out. To let him know that if she’s going to be his emergency contact, he has to accept the help that emergency contact wants to give after said emergency. She wants to hold his stupid squared jaw and tell him she’s not good at any of this, but she’s trying.

Would it be easier to just let this short term relationship fizzle out until it’s just a bittersweet memory lost among the stars? Yes, absolutely. Then she thinks about how he kissed her that very first night when she had been terrified to be seen in the light of day. How gently he held her while the morning light broke into the night sky. How her heart hammered in her chest as he told her the night didn’t have to end and then proceeded to make them pancakes. So perhaps, it wouldn’t be easier after all to simply bury her head in the sand like she has time and time again with previous flings.

“No,” she whispers, much as she did earlier to the question still ruminating in her mind. “I don’t.”

That is the unfortunate complication when a fling quickly starts feeling like something that can last forever if both parties would allow for it. Suddenly, the possibility of floating off on the breeze to whatever comes next vanishes, and she’s stuck miserable, stubborn, and alone in her apartment every night wanting to swallow her own pride to smooth things over. However, she also is impulsive and makes decisions that could throw wrenches in such a thing at any given moment.

Her heart aches. Whether it’s due to this incessant need to be near him again or the uncertainty as to what is going to come next, she isn’t sure.

A soft knock comes from the open door to the office. Without removing her hands from her eyes, she yearns to shoo whoever is there away. She wants to be alone, so she can finally finish three months of scheduling in advance. And also to mope in peace. 

“Bad time?”

The voice does not belong to any of the employees that might be visiting her office. In fact, it’s a voice she hasn’t heard much at all recently. Her hands drop into her lap. When she opens her eyes, Davrin stands in the doorway, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. The bruises on his face have healed to return that classically handsome face that had her heart about to shoot out of her chest in the middle of a crowded bar the first time she saw it. “No,” she breathes almost as if she’s unsure he’s really there. Which must look awfully stupid, she decides before straightening her shoulders and clearing her throat. “No, it’s not… a bad time, I mean. It’s not a bad time.”

God, she’s babbling like a fucking fool.

He nods. One of his hands flexes around something in his pocket. A wallet? Car keys? She doesn’t know, and isn’t certain why she’s speculating or even noticing it all. “That’s good.” The faintest hint of a smile touches his lips. “I was hoping we could talk.”

She frowns. “That’s foreboding,” she replies. Nothing bad has ever happened after that statement is made. Never. Not once.

“Maybe if you’re the one who was an ass,” he counters. The smile remains, but she can see the nerves beginning to glimmer in his eyes. He’s anxious. How unusual. As foolish as it is right now, she allows the hope that's been simmering in the back of her mind to come to a rolling boil. “You have five minutes?”

An empty schedule hollers that she doesn’t have five seconds, let alone five minutes. “Yeah,” she answers. A lie but he doesn’t have to know that. Glee and despair rage through her veins as her heart pounds. 

People don't usually come asking for Silvia by name, which is the assumption she makes as to why there had been no warning prior to his arrival. Plus the young woman at the desk is deeply invested in a video she’s attempting to discreetly listen to through an ear bud she thinks is hidden behind her hair. It is not well hidden at all, considering the white device is poking through long strands of brown hair. Not that it matters at this time of night really. On a Tuesday, Silvia wouldn’t even normally still be here.

Yet here she is, prepared to push heavy double doors to head out into the summer heat. An arm reaches over her to open one before she even gets the chance. “And they say chivalry is dead,” she teases, hoping to get that sideways grin she’s been longing to see in response. “First, saving kittens and now opening doors for ladies. What will he do next?”

That grin doesn’t come, though. Something more reserved takes its place. Tight lipped and anxious. “I’m being told that getting a puppy might help my market value,” he tells her, and despite all the conversations she’s planned out in her head, all the cut and dry arguments she’s been looking to have, she laughs. 

It is a damp evening. The humidity has to be up near a hundred percent. Her skin immediately feels sticky as she steps outside. Cars are sparsely parked throughout the lot, and as the sun goes down, she imagines there will be a thin wet sheen left on all of them. Peeling off her sweatshirt would make the most sense, but she didn’t expect to see Davrin when she committed to the leotard under leggings look this morning. There is no way she’ll be seen without a bra right this second. Given how she’s already melting simply under his gaze, she has to make him work for something.

“I miss you.”

So plain and to the point. He says it quietly. Not in the way of avoiding being overheard by a passerby, but rather, he intends it only for her. The statement is tender, intimate even. If the heat didn’t already have her cheeks flushing, they certainly would be now. He still stands with his hands in his pockets. His eyes are fixed on the ground between him. Like a little boy who’s been caught with his hand in a cookie jar too many times. It’s uncharacteristic of him. From that very first night, he’s oozed confidence. He is smooth and sure of himself. She loves that about him, so seeing this side is quite the stark contrast.

His chest swells with a deep intake of breath. “I used to break a lot of stuff as a kid,” he explains. “Drove my parents up a wall.” Imagining neat as a pin picture perfect Davrin giving his parents grief and making a mess is comical, but she folds her arms over her chest, watching as he fiddles with the item in his pocket. “Got to the point where my dad was so fed up with my shit that he taught me how to make something new with the things I destroyed.”

From the pocket, a small box is produced, the size and shape of which is familiar to her. Her brother recently slid a very similar vessel across her kitchen counter for her appraisal. To make sure the contents were acceptable. Were worthy of the answer he was looking to receive. Silvia sucks in a sharp breath. While that sort of box only usually holds one sort of thing, it certainly doesn’t really tie into whatever story Davrin is about delve into… right? She bites down on the inside of both cheeks in anticipation.

Eyes shift from the ground to the small wooden box that he’s turning over in his hand. “Snapped a door right off its hinges once,” he scoffs. “Dad had me turn it into a coffee table and didn’t make it easy for me either.” 

The coffee table that sits in front of his couch doesn’t draw much attention to itself. The surface is smooth and the rings in the wood are all mismatched between thin planks of wood. It reminds her of the expensive cutting boards her brother likes to purchase. Thin pieces of wood grouped together in clean even lines. Placed together piece by piece with a little elbow grease. She hadn’t even considered he might have made it himself.

“So I started making little things here and there.” A part of her wonders if he’s made the box he refuses to stop fidgeting with. “Mom got a mug rack. Made my dad one of those bottle opens you keep on the wall. My sister got a whole bookshelf.” Siblings. She hasn’t even thought to ask him about his siblings. All she knows about his parents is that they live a few hours away. Additional immediate family members have been a second thought. She can't help but wonder what else she's been too preoccupied to notice or learn about him.

Between the side of his index finger and the pad of his thumb, he now holds the box, deciding what exactly comes next. Her nostrils flare. Anticipation rolls through her belly. “Kept my hands busy and me out of trouble.” This troublesome boy is still a little tough to picture, but she thinks of that sideways grin and air of confidence and decides maybe he’s not too far removed from the man she knows now. “Maybe that’s why I became such an asshole. I can’t say I’ve done much woodworking as of late… at least not before this.” He holds the box out for her. “Here.”

She hasn’t said a single word since they came outside. The hairs at the back of her neck are curling with sweat in the heat. “For me?” the words leave her mouth quietly, barely even a question she means to consciously ask. This time when she meets his eyes, they’re staring right back at her. That fire he usually brings with him. That warmth she’s so drawn to. Something passionate and beautiful and unerring and so innately him whatever arguments she’s had well planned out in her head are gone. “You were really an ass.”

“I know,” he chuckles, though it's laced with a bitterness she isn’t used to. Someone or maybe more than one person has told him as much. Has affirmed what she felt wasn’t an overreaction. Has been on her side. Which thrills her much like finding a twenty dollar bill in a pair of clean jeans: exciting but certainly not expected. “If you don’t want it and would rather send me on my way, I get it.”

Shaking her head, she looks back down at the box in her hand. “I didn’t say that.” She would be hard pressed to kick him to the curb at the very least. It would reflect poorly on her to turn away the at risk youth he describes himself as. That’s reason enough to let him stay… on top of the fact she’s missed his voice more than she even realized. “I said you were an ass. Not that you should leave, or that I didn’t want a gift.”

He laughs a bit more genuinely this time around. Deep and hardy in his chest. She knows how the bass is rumbling in his chest, and she has half a mind to drag him back into her office and lock the door because of that. “I’ll take it.” He’s the perfect specimen. All tall and broad and carved from the most remarkable stone she’s ever had the pleasure of witnessing. 

Or maybe it’s never been stone at all. He isn’t cold like a stone. Sunlight practically radiates out of him. He’s the center of whatever room he’s in, and somehow she’s happy to stand in that light. To bask in its warmth. Perhaps he is never the marble man she pictures crafted in his likeness but rather a man built from the softest and most beautiful wood in the forest he loves so much. Crafted with such care that he shouldn’t dare enter her orbit, yet he remains. In that radiance, she would be more than happy to be the cat curled up in its warmth for days on end… forever if would allow it.

Fuck.

She clutches the box in her hand. “Davrin, I was invited to be a guest instructor at the company I used to dance for.” It seems like a different life. Drifting on an enticing emptiness through every performance. Counting. Hitting. Succeeding. Day in and day out in costume fittings. Breaking in new pointe shoes. Listening to the ever present whispers of more seasoned dancers. Dark and cruel words toward one another. Toward others. Toward her. Toward the universe. Smoking cigarettes after hard rehearsals late into the night. The empty feeling following her into bed each and every night. Thrilling and wondrous and mother approved. 

Confused, he shrugs. “That’s awesome… right?” There’s something stuck in his throat. Like there’s more he might want to say in response. Like he wants to question the topic’s introduction here. Much like his siblings, he doesn’t know much about what happened or even when she had been in the years prior to returning here. “I don’t know if you’re excited about this or not?”

The biggest draw to her studio in her home city is that she teaches classes there. She’s acquired her own following of serious ballet students. Serious enough to pay large sums of money and attend multiple classes a week in between homeschool lessons. But she wants to provide some safe space. A soft place to land and not have to listen to those intrusive whispers for as long as she can help. “I accepted,” she whispered. The box is burning in her hands.

“Okay,” he responds. She can smell his laundry detergent. Light and clean. Nothing overly fragrant because it gives him a headache. She doesn’t know when he got so close, but just a few more inches and they’ll be chest to chest. Either one of them could be the culprit moving in on the other. She doesn’t really care which one of them it is honestly. “There’s a catch?” She can hear his frown.

“I leave in two and a half weeks.”

“There it is.” She can’t bring herself to look at him. Not with the unaired anger and sadness in her eyes. He’ll immediately see it and insist on saying something nice, which will send her right over the edge. There’s already an email in her drafts rescinding her acceptance of the position. Offering to provide covering funds for whatever lodgings they have already secured for her. Choosing to stay and maintain her every day. The stable life with limited risk involved she’s built for herself. Maybe break up with a volunteer firefighter via text message who was a bit of a dick while hurt or make up with him and live happily ever after like some fairy in the woods she’s been a principal dancer in a show about. “How far away?”

Far enough that he mother didn’t have to worry about her. “About an ocean’s length,” is all she offers as a response. 

His brows shoot up, and he lets out a heavy sigh. “Damn.” There’s some nervous bouncing on the balls of his feet. An occasional nod as he processes the information. “That’s… not close.”

This wouldn’t be her first time breaking up in a parking lot, but somehow the sting of it is so much worse than any sobbing heartbreak she’s had with some shitty half baked boy trying to undersell her worth. She hasn’t even shed a tear yet, though the lump sitting firmly in her throat is begging to change that. The past weeks avoiding him and his shitty attitude have been wasted. If this is it, she would have had the fight right then and there while he was all battered and bruised. She would have taken a little more time together to enjoy the good thing before it fizzled into a grand nothingness like a falling star in the sky.

Hands land on her face with an impossibly gentle touch. “Hey.” She looks up and can feel the hot tears roll out of her eyes and over his thumbs. “Do you not want to go or–”

“No, I do!” she barks out, louder than she intends. “I do.” What a sap she is bawling in the palms of his hands. It’s only been a few months. It could have been more. She has no reason to be this broken over something that started as a blind fucking date. But it’s good. It’s so good. “I just don’t want this to end.”

His brows knit together. “End?” he repeats. “Are you ending this?”

“No… I… don’t think so?” She figures an ocean between a short term thing is enough of an axe to chop the head off of the relationship entirely. “I don’t want to… but three months is a long time.”

His hands leave her longing to be held in the stifling heat. “Open the box,” he says. Even. Commanding. The corners of his lips are curled up ever so slightly. She stares at him, crying in the parking lot of her own fucking establishment. Feeling like a fool in love. “Open it.”

She doesn’t know why she obeys so easily. There has been no apology. Just the fleeting chance that whatever this thing between them is might end. The teeth of the box yield to her touch easily and pop open to reveal the very thing she imagines could be in such a box, though it is quite different than what she might imagine. It’s still a ring but made of wood that appears to be such a dark brown she can barely make out the pattern in the grain. A thin broken line of green stones runs along the length of it. The varnish shines in the dying light of day. “I know you were trying to help,” he adds. She turns the ring over and over between her fingers. “And I didn’t appreciate that as much as I should have.”

Seeing him in that hospital had been difficult. Not only was it the middle of the night, but she was panicking now. Unable to get much of anywhere with the woman at reception. Her brother was no help. Then Davrin showed up with a forehead bandaged. All but hobbling over to her. Smelling like smoke and the goddamn hospital. There was nothing else she wanted in that moment than for him to be okay. She barely slept at all that night, counting his breaths and movements as best she could until the sun rose again. 

“I’m sorry, Silvia.”

It’s a token of apology. A piece that says he doesn’t know if his words will make up for everything, but he’s a beautiful creation I’ve made with you in mind regardless. It’s smooth and small in her hand. Something that has been so reserved and held in his past it’s been relegated to family now includes her. A tiny sob leaves her throat. “I’m so sorry,” she blathers, raising a hand. “Not about… all of that. You deserved the cold shoulder.” He laughs at this despite her meaning every word, and she doesn’t doubt that he hears her loud and clear as well. “I… no one’s ever… made me anything before.”

Not since grade school. Something like a picture or a valentine. A little fleeting craft to be shared between childhood friends. Nothing of note has had the effort put in like this. Each stone sits floating in the resin that’s been sanded and smoothed to a slick shine. Care has been put into each level of this tiny piece of an apology so much so that it has every wall she’s ever built crumbling at his feet.

The pads of his thumbs brush away stray tears once again. Her eyes meet his. Cool and sharp meeting warm and open. “I’m in this, Silvie,” he states firmly. An open declaration of words they haven’t mentioned in quite some time. “If you’re in this, too, that’s enough for me.”

Between his gaze and the lump in her throat, she’s overwhelmed by every emotion she’s tried to plow through since she’s met him. Serendipity is not meant for her life. The de Riva’s are plagued by tragedy and poor decisions. There has been no generational skip. There are no exceptions. They are destined for misfortune.

Yet the human embodiment of the sun wants to love her.

She should be called a fool for allowing this into her life, but even a fool is entitled to joy once in a while.

“I’m in this,” she agrees with a nod before settling happily against his lips.

[fuerrow]

Unfair - Resbang 2018

Summary:  Marie feels her very own soul get ripped out when she hears the news. The man she loved has been murdered. Wilting away in her own grief, her troubles grow as her partner and dear friend, Dr. Franken Stein, is accused of the killing. She knows he’s innocent, but he isn’t convinced. Together they flee to find the truth of Joe Buttataki’s untimely demise. And what they find is not the conclusion they thought they’d see.

Rating: Pg-13

Pairings: SteinMarie / Marie Mjolnir x Joe Buttataki

Warnings: Minor character death, mentions of self harm, canon typical swearing and violence, mentions of adult innuendo

Chapter 1- Break

Marie Mjolnir’s dream of marriage and raising kids had been an obsession of hers ever since she had been just a little girl. Experiencing her first wedding at the age of 5, she had remembered the ceremony vividly, as it had awed her little mind. The sun had poured through the stained glass of the old church, emitting beautiful rays of colors down upon the altar where her cousin had stood with his beloved soon-to-be husband. Hand in hand, they’d smiled with pure joy at each other as the vows were read. And when they’d kissed, Marie had felt a vibrant happiness and excitement as everyone cheered for the newly wedded couple. She’d thought to herself, then and there, how amazing it was to get married and have your life intertwined with that of your best friend.

Ever since then, she’d had constant fantasies of her own perfect wedding with her own perfect dress and her own perfect cake. But most importantly, she’d had fantasies of the perfect partner that would top it all off. They would kiss. He would embrace her with a warm hug and a warm smile on his face every time he’d see her and she’d do the same. They’d have two beautiful kids that they would tuck in every night and say ‘We love you’ to.

She would always smile brightly at such a thought: to be a mom, to be a wife, to be in a family full of love and happiness. It was her dream, and even if it was a bit old fashioned, it brought her joy.

But at the age of 32, she’d only been close to having it once. And that was with a man named Joe Buttataki. Marie still remembers the day she asked him out. It had been back when she was still in Oceania, new to the region, and new to her life as a death scythe.  

She’d been at a bar, more invested with the social side of things than the alcohol. Marie enjoyed the company of others, having nice conversations about a various sorts of topics.

She’d recognized Joe sitting at the other end of the bar by himself. They had attended the same classes back in her academy days, but never really talked much. He seemed like a nice guy though, so she’d ordered him a drink, and had brought it over to him.

READ THE REST AT [AO3]

HELLO AFTER 3 YEARS OF NOT WRITING ANYTHING CREATIVE I DECIDED TO MAKE A FIC FOR RESBANG 2018!! IS IT PERFECT? NO, ITS FAR FROM IT, BUT IM PROUD OF IT NOTHENLESS!!

BIG SHOUT OUT TO @sandmancircus FOR BEING SUCH A WONDERFUL PARTNER AND MAKING SUCH AMAZING ART THAT I SCREAMED OVER FOR LIKE 24 HOURS

YOU CAN FIND THE BEAUTIFUL ART HERE!

NOT ONLY THAT BUT SAND HELPED BETA THE FIC AS WELL AND I AM SO GRATEFUL FOR ALL MY BETAS

@sandmancircus

@dollypopup

and @sahdah

WITHOUT THEM THIS FIC WOULD BE MORE OF A WRECK THAN IT ALREADY IS BECAUSE I CAN’T GRAMMAR FOR THE LIFE OF ME.

THANK YOU ONCE MORE AND HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY!!

[catgrump]

'' i haven't mastered the art of kissing yet. '' '' teach me how to do it. '' '' if you're uncomfortable, or think it's too much, pull away. '' with sonia and gundham pretty please?

I love a Sondham ty for the chance to let them be soft and happy! This piece is so very kissy.

🌻🌻🌻

It’s been a few weeks since everyone woke up from the simulation, and Sonia has been acclimating Gundham into their way of life on the island.

Sonia sighed, sitting on a blanket beside Gundham, watching the Devas play in the sand of the beach. The sunset was warm… just like Gundham was when she rested her head on his shoulder.

Gundham turned to face Sonia, and gently nuzzled her hair with his cheek, making Sonia giggle and take hold of his arm. “My Dark Queen…” he started to speak, but then he second-guessed, his words trailing off.

“Gundham?” Sonia perked up to listen.

“I am…” Gundham didn’t want to disappoint Sonia, so he concocted something else to say, “I am very grateful to be in your company.”

“I am, as well,” Sonia said, resting her head on his shoulder once more.

They watched the sunset dance on the ocean waves for a few moments before Sonia felt compelled to speak again. “Gundham… something has been on my mind for some time now.”

“Please speak as much as you desire.”

“Gundham… do you remember our time at Hope’s Peak?”

“The memories are coming back to me, yes.”

“Do you remember anything with me?”

Gundham took pause. He remembers so much about Sonia. She was one of the only people in the class to accept him from the get-go. No matter how much he pushed people away with his eccentricities, it excited Sonia. Sonia stuck around. And they spent a lot of time together. And Gundham had fallen for her.

He never felt anything like the attraction he has for Sonia. Never has another being captivated him the way that Sonia Nevermind has.

“Yes. I do.”

“I remember a lot. And the fact that we were able to rekindle our connection so naturally even when our memories were wiped…” Sonia moved to weave her fingers between Gundham’s, “Gundham, I wish to… be involved with you romantically, in an official capacity.”

Gundham let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. He wasn’t expecting Sonia to say anything like that, but he was so glad that she did. “It would be an honor, Sonia.”

“That is wonderful,” Sonia squeezed Gundham’s arm a little tighter, feeling her face flush, “I would like to kiss you…”

“… As would I…” Gundham sat up straight and took a deep breath, feeling anxiety crawling inside him, “I… have not mastered the art of… kissing… yet.”

Sonia shifted to look at her new partner, “That is quite alright—“

“— Teach me how to do it?”

Gundham buried his face in his scarf, embarrassed by his outburst. “I do not know if kissing is something that can be taught, but I am happy to help you.”

Sonia shifted to get a better angle. She put her hands on Gundham’s leg, leaning closer. “The best way to describe the process… lean in close, and,” Sonia couldn’t help but blush, “Let your lips… move gently… but naturally. If you are uncomfortable or think it’s too much, pull away and tell me to stop, yes?”

Gundham nodded, gingerly removing his face from his scarf. With a trembling hand, he caressed Sonia’s face, and instantly felt the gratification of wanting to be tender with her… he felt his body lighten like a load was lifted off his shoulders.

Sonia’s smile was so warm… her blue eyes so mesmerizing… Gundham finally felt like he could grant himself permission to have intimacy with someone, and it was someone so mystifying. His hand guided Sonia toward him, and their lips met. It was soft… she smelled like autumn and tasted like apples and cinnamon. He brushed his fingers back, feeling her silky blonde hair as he moved his hand to rest on her neck.

Sonia broke free to move to sit in Gundham’s lap. “Is this alright?” she said as her hands rested behind his shoulders.

“Y-yes,” Gundham managed to mutter, carefully taking hold of Sonia’s hips.

“I am enjoying myself, but I plead, if you are ever uncomfortable, tell me, and we will stop,” Sonia reiterated.

“I understand, my Queen,” Gundham replied.

They reunited their lips, deepening their kisses as Sonia hummed with a smile. Sonia has only shared a few kisses herself, with suitors she had snuck away with, but this felt different. No need to hide… just two people enjoying being in each other’s company.

And then they heard tiny noises. And the noises were growing louder. Sonia released her kiss and looked behind her to see the Devas in the sand, running towards them. She started giggling as they all bound into Sonia and Gundham’s laps, nuzzling them and nuzzling each other. “I think the Dark Devas of Destruction may have been jealous of the attention!” Sonia playfully teased.

Gundham gave each one a scratch behind the ears as he softly laughed, “I believe you may be right, my dear.”

[kiki-shortsnout]

Intimacy prompt 34 and 37 for IronStrange pleaze?.

Oh I think Have I Ever is my favorite work of yours in intimacy because there's no way those 2 will get together without being dramatic first haha XD

Hey! Thank you for the ask, and thank you for the compliment, I'm happy you're enjoying these prompts!

Whew! I'm making some progress on these prompts!

***

‘Do you regret it?’

Tony pulled up his sunglasses so he could give him the full effect of his unimpressed stare.

‘Am I supposed to pluck the context out of thin air, Strange? Regret what?’ he asked, flicking his sunglasses back into place, and sinking his feet further into the scorching sand. He heard the breath leaving the wizard’s lungs as he sat up on the blanket, the shift of bare skin across the fibers of it.

‘No, because you know exactly what I’m talking about.’

Groaning dramatically, Tony flung his arms out behind him to support his weight as he leant back, palms stinging from the heat of the sand, glorious, smoldering heat. He didn’t answer straight away, keeping his gaze locked on Morgan leaping through the frothy waves, Peter a few seconds behind her, just as excited.

‘No. No, I don’t regret it.’

His divorce with Pepper wasn’t something he liked to talk about, but their relationship was well past the point of idle chitchat. Hours wedged together on an alien spaceship would do that. They’d stared at death incarnate together, had given everything they could to stop Thanos, and that formed a connection between people, regardless of their backgrounds.

Magical or not.

Tony sat up, inching closer to the shade Stephen had refused to leave the whole time they’d been at Malibu, and taking a moment to eye up his milky white skin. The man looked like he could get sunburnt in the shade. Using magic to tilt the umbrella so Tony could share, Stephen scooped up the seashells Morgan had found earlier, gleaming treasure she had entrusted him with their safekeeping.

It made him smile, how seriously Stephen treated her, and it made an unusual sensation stir in his chest, a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time, not since he’d first started dating Pepper.

‘I think she loved the idea of me, what I could be, what I would’ve been if not for Iron Man,’ Tony said suddenly, watching his kids screech as the Cloak chased after them, shaking water from its fabric, indicating it’d been dunked in saltwater.

‘I wanted to be that man for her, I really did, and she’s still one of the most important people to me, not because she’s the mother of my child, but because I love her. I always will, just not in the way she deserves.’

‘Tony, this wasn’t an excuse for you to start tearing your self-esteem into ribbons,’ Stephen scolded.

‘I’m not, I’m answering your question. I knew, we both knew as soon as I leapt aboard the alien doughnut that it was over. We tried to work past it, all of us left behind in the five years you guys were gone tried to cobble our lives back together, but it…’ Tony sighed, scooping up a handful of sand and gazing at the millions of sun-kissed gems, fragments that created a whole.

‘I get it, I suppose it’s hard to love a hero, it’s hard to understand…unless you’re one yourself.’

‘I don’t blame her for wanting me to give up Iron Man, I get it, I just…couldn’t. I tried, but as soon as you came to me about Thanos, I knew I had to go…I didn’t stop to think about how it might affect her, jumping on another suicide mission.’

Tony reached over Stephen’s ridiculously long legs to reach his can of lemonade he’d left there earlier, grimacing at the warmth of the liquid, but grateful for the way it soothed his dry throat.

‘What about you, asshole, you got a special lady?’ Tony asked, deflecting the conversation.

‘Nope, no special someone,’ Stephen stressed the last part, watching the kids in the water and inhaling deeply.

Now that Tony didn’t know. He should’ve really, after the flirty little wink he’d given when they’d first met, but Tony had chalked that up to the man showing off his impressive skills. Tony wasn’t arrogant enough that he couldn’t admit Stephen had an extraordinary repertoire of skills, and the man could fight…but he didn’t have to verbalize it.

Strange had a big enough head already.

‘You were right, this…this was needed,’ Stephen said, waving a hand at the beach, indicating the this. Tony was distracted by the tremble in his fingers, the slender scars across his fingers and the back of his hands, revealing the trauma, the pain he must have felt having pins in his bones.

He could understand that, the story scars left behind, the proof of their hubris.

‘Well, I promised you both, didn’t I? Once we got back to Earth and everyone was saved, we were going to have a holiday. No outer space travels, no insane alien overlords trying to destroy us. Just us, the sun, sea and warm lemonade,’ Tony held his up in a toast, grinning as Stephen grabbed his own can and clinked the side of it.

Morgan had stopped running in the sea and was now digging a hole in the sand with her bare hands, watching as the tide came in and filled it, trying to create a moat of sorts. Lifting her head, Tony watched the briny breeze tease her salt-crusted tangles away from her face. His love for her startled him at times, how he could love another being as much as this. He loved Peter too, the kid had been his driving force to discover the trick behind time travel, and he’d risked everything to bring him home.

Thinking about them both made other feelings surface too, black oozing things that he tried to suppress, negative feelings about why his own father couldn’t have felt the same, if one day he would treat Morgan and Peter with the same cold-hearted disregard.

‘Tony, hey douchebag, you alright?’

The sun overhead burnt his gaze gold as he lifted his eyes, leaving him dazed and blinking back tears.

‘Yeah, sorry, I’m good.’

‘You drifted away there…anything you want to talk about?’ Stephen asked, his tone careful, trying not to probe.

‘Nah, Doc, just my daddy issues rearing their ugly head again.’

Stephen looked at him then, his aquamarine eyes glowing from the sun’s reflection, and Tony felt like his gaze was burning back the layers he swathed himself in, piercing his body and reading his mind. He couldn’t explain it, but he’d always had the sense Stephen knew more than what he revealed, that he could see things in the fabric of the universe that Tony was blind to.

Fourteen million futures, each a glimpse of a possibility, how many more of them were out there? What else had Stephen seen?

‘Tony, you’re a wonderful parent,’ Stephen argued.

‘How would you know!’ He regretted the snap, knowing it was part of his self-defense mechanism, but Stephen didn’t know him that well yet to recognize it for what it was, and he opened his mouth to apologize when he suddenly found a trembling hand across his mouth.

‘Because I’ve watched you with them. I saw you with Peter on the ship, the sheer horror in your eyes when you thought you’d brought him to his death, I could literally hear your brain trying to think of a way to send him home. With Morgan, Tony, you worship the ground she walks on, you’re caring, attentive…’ Stephen trailed off, a slight redness to his cheeks as he let his hand fall.

Tony went to warn him that he was burning from the sun when he caught sight of Stephen’s gaze fixed on his lips. Feeling daunting, he let the tip of his tongue come out to wet his bottom lip, suppressing his laugh when he saw Stephen’s blush deepen, his gaze turning back towards the sea.

He could do one of two things here. Ignore what had just happened and go back to the carefree attitude they were enjoying at the beach, or address the issue and explore the possibilities of what it could mean for them. Despite how quickly his brain tended to work, the way it could create possible scenarios and see them through in order for him to select the best one, Tony found himself hesitating.

‘When you said it’s hard to love a hero…were you referring to yourself?’ Tony asked.

Stephen didn’t answer for a moment, his gaze now on the Cloak shielding the kids from the worst of the sunshine, its collar dipping down as it tried to examine the castle Peter was building beside Morgan’s moat.

‘It’s not hard to love you,’ Stephen answered, his words nearly lost in the breeze.

‘I’ll have you know it’s near impossible to love me,’ Tony joked, his mouth moving faster than his brain. ‘I’m a mess, I forget about people when I’m inventing, I’ll always put the safety of Earth before my partner-’

Stephen’s mouth on his made his ramblings stop, the touch of shaking fingers on his jaw felt like wind brushing over sunburnt skin, blistering and soothing in equal measure.

‘It’s because of those things that I like you,’ Stephen murmured against his lips. ‘It’s not the idea of you I love, Tony Stark, I know who you are. Fourteen million versions of you.’

Despite the surprise he felt at this revelation, the clench in his gut from the anticipation of what this could mean, Tony smiled against his lips, leaning closer.

‘Sorry I didn’t ask,’ Stephen whispered across his mouth. ‘Can I kiss you again, Tony?’ His free hand covered Tony’s on the sand as the other continued to sweep across his jawbone, down to his throat and back again.

‘I could be persuaded,’ Tony agreed with a laugh, pretending to fight off Stephen’s tongue invading his mouth, falling back to the ground dramatically. ‘Why, Doctor Strange, I didn’t know you had it in you!’ he mock gasped, wriggling away from Stephen’s lunge, and getting to his feet as he scrambled down to the water.

‘Prepare to eat seawater, Stark,’ Stephen growled from behind him, giving chase.

He’d never seen himself in this position five years ago, hadn’t been able to see past the frigid metal walls of the doughnut ship as he hurtled forward on his suicide mission, but he was glad events had led him here. Looking over his shoulder at Stephen’s skin gleaming in the light as he pelted after Tony on the beach, he screamed for Morgan to save him, cackling as she ordered the Cloak to stop the Sorcerer Supreme.

This wasn’t where he saw his life at all, divorced, a beautiful daughter, an all but adopted mutant child, a sentient Cloak and a potential wizard boyfriend, but he was happy.

For the first time in years, he could say with complete honesty that he was content with his life.

[laequiem]

kiss you off my lips - folktober day 5

Jurdannet Folktober 2021- Day 05. She who pulls the strings @jurdannet @jurdannetrevels

Fandom: The Folk of the Air

Pairing: Jude Duarte/Cardan Greenbriar but seen through Nicasia/Cardan Greenbriar? lol

Rating: mature

Word count: 2,532

The Puppet King, my subjects call me. Allegedly, the Living Council pulls the strings, controlling me from behind the scenes. They think themselves subtle, but I hear their whispers. Their words, however, slide off my armor like rain. After all, I have heard them countless times, from other’s lips or from my own mind. I was my mother’s puppet, then Balekin, and now I am Jude’s.

read on ao3

Masterlist • She kills my self-control masterpost

The Puppet King, my subjects call me. Allegedly, the Living Council pulls the strings, controlling me from behind the scenes. They think themselves subtle, but I hear their whispers. Their words, however, slide off my armor like rain. After all, I have heard them countless times, from other’s lips or from my own mind. I was my mother’s puppet, then Balekin, and now I am Jude’s.

Most days—more than a King, more than a marionette—I feel like a courtesan. Dabbling in steamy displays with courtiers I am barely interested in, all to keep the façade of the immoral king. I pretend at power, desperate for a nod of approval from my seneschal, while she does all the work. Of course, she had never asked me to whore myself out.

Until today.

I do not know who started our tumbling. Maybe I did, my anger blinding me to the foolishness of what we were about to do, in that small room behind the dais. Forgetting that touching Jude again would remind me of everything I have tried to forget since that day she rode me in her rooms. When I kissed her, that anger melted away, replaced immediately with the desire I have been helplessly fighting against for years.

Or maybe this was Jude’s plan all along. She is more faerie than she seems, at least in the way she schemes and bargains. I will charm Nicasia and get her the info she wants. In exchange, she gave me what I want: her.

Her tart taste lingers in my mouth. I did not kneel for her this time, but licking her taste off my fingers made me regret not indulging that particular thirst.

I find Nicasia easily, splendid in a pearl white gown, talking to Randalin. The small sprite does not stand a chance against her. His goat eyes shift towards me, then he bows deeply. Nicasia turns to me, unable to hide her surprise and delight that I have come to her.

“Cardan,” she croons.

Randalin chokes on nothing, animal eyes going wide. I raise a brow at Nicasia and cross my arms.

“Your Majesty,” she corrects herself, a purplish tint blossoming on her cheeks. I will never tire of this.

“Princess Nicasia.” I take her hand and kiss her knuckles. “Would you accompany me on a walk? For old time’s sake.”

“It would be my pleasure,” she beams up at me.

We make boring small talk as we walk, her arm looped around my elbow. The path leads us away from the Palace, towards the beach separating the Shifting Isles. Jude seemed to think Nicasia still liked me, and I suppose I can see it. She looks up at me with clear interest, though the conversation is as weary as can be. I work my charm up even more. A small hibiscus shrub blossoms as we walk past and I pluck a flower, tucking it in her hair with a calculated graze of my knuckles against her cheek.

The sea does not rise to greet us as we set foot on the sand.

“The sea is unnaturally calm,” I say.

I chuck off my shoes and Nicasia’s eyes dart straight to my bare feet. I hope Jude does not ask me if she was right that Nicasia still holds feelings for me, I fear I would not be able to lie.

“It is,” she says, turning back towards the sea.

I slowly uncuff my shirt for the second time today. I chase away the memories of Jude’s curious fingers on me. The way she explored and grabbed at me like she needed to figure me out, to plan out how to efficiently unravel me next time.

Next time.

I hope there is a next time.

“I must admit I am surprised,” I tell her nonchalantly, "I thought the Undersea always made true on their threats.”

I will the nearest tree to stretch out a branch towards me. I unbutton my shirt and remove it, then hang it on the branch.

“What do you mean?” Nicasia asks.

She turns to me. The way she devours me with her eyes takes me back to a time of shared wickedness and complicity. A time when it was us against the world, a time when she chose me over my siblings.

Until she chose Locke over me.

Now do you believe me that she wants you? Jude had asked. I suppose I do.

At one point, this look on Nicasia’s face would have set all my nerves on fire. Now, I feel the same as when strangers ogle me.

“Cleave together lest you face the rising tide,” I singsong, reciting the words from Queen Orlagh’s minion at the Hunter’s Moon revel in the same melody they used. “Yet the sea stays quiet. I take it your kind has another plan.”

I reach for the lace holding together my breeches and pull at the knot. Nicasia looks down at her hands, suddenly captivated by her nails.

“Perhaps,” she says too quickly. “Or perhaps we hope you will come to your senses.”

“We all hope so.”

Including me. Just not about this particular issue. My issue is of the mortal kind, the kind who deals in secrets and knives.

I hang my pants next to my shirt. Nicasia is still fully dressed, standing with her back straight and her lips tightly shut. I stop in front of her and trail a finger up her arm before slipping it under one of the straps of her dress.

“Will you not join me, Princess?”

My tail brushes up her spine and she arches towards me. I don’t wait for her to answer, though. I run into the sea.

The water is cold, unwelcoming. Before becoming High King, the salt water would not have bothered me as much. With only minor magic, only ingesting salt would have hurt me. Now, it grates at my skin like sandpaper, as if eating away my skin to get to the magic within. My magic recoils from any part of me in contact with the water. It’s heinous. I would rather take a dip in the Lake of Masks.

On the shore, Nicasia strips off her dress, hose, heels, tiara, everything. Then, she runs towards the water in a wave of blue-tinged skin and blue hair. She dives under, agile and more in her element than I could ever be.

She resurfaces next to me, a smile on her painted lips.

“Like old times,” she says.

“Like old times, but so much more complicated.” I sigh, then cast my line. “It used to be so easy.”

She takes a step towards me, biting the bait. “What was?”

And I reel it in.

“Everything,” I say with a frown. I take a step towards her, and put my hand on her cheek. “Us.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” she says softly.

“It does.” I sigh again. “Do you realize how hard it is to please everyone? The Living Council is always on my case. And my seneschal—”

She groans. “Why do you even keep her around?”

Because she commands me. Because she is the true ruler of Elfhame. Because I love her.

“I have to.”

Nicasia puts her hand over mine. Her fingers are webbed now, I notice. No gills, however. I suppose she knows I have no desire to ever follow her under again. Now that I am High King, I don’t have to—unlike when I was no more than the lover of the Future Queen of the Undersea.

I wonder if Nicasia notices the way I look at Jude. I wonder if I used to look at her like that, or if it was something else. I did love Nicasia, once, but it was never as labyrinthine.

I try to emulate that look just now, I try to look at her like I used to. Nicasia is still the same beautiful creature she always was: a perfectly symmetrical face composed of sharp angles and large, deep eyes. She is beautiful in the way a painting is, a piece of art to be admired. Just like art, she can make you feel things—but it’s nothing as primordial as what I feel for Jude. Like she is the beating heart I am tethered to.

“There are things I can choose for myself.”

I stroke her cheek with my thumb. She leans into my touch, angling her head towards my hand.

“… things?” Nicasia asks.

“Lovers. Consorts.” I lean in towards her ear and whisper, “A Queen.”

The words sound so wrong, they claw at my throat as they come out. I am surprised I can even say them, but they are not lies. I simply have no desire to make Nicasia any of these things.

“Ca—Your Majesty,” she gasps.

“We’re in private. Cardan is fine.”

I kiss the soft spot under her ear, then pull at the lobe with my teeth. Her skin tastes salty. Like seawater, of course, not the salty tang of sweat drying on skin after an exhausting training session. The point of her ear is unsettling, sharp like a blade.

“Cardan.” She slides a hand behind my neck, toying with my hair the way she knows I like. “Why refuse me so often then?”

I pull back to look at her, my hands roaming down to settle on her small waist.

“My subjects think me… young. Foolish.” I look towards the Palace, the grassy hill looming over the trees. “They already say I am a puppet.”

“They are the fools,” she spits.

I shake my head. “I am a fool. Regardless, if I were to marry so early after being crowned, they would think you the mother of puppets. The one who pulls my strings.”

“Especially given my mother’s insistence,” she says and I nod.

I pull her to me, her hips pressing against mine. Bone against bone. Wildly different from the soft but strong body I was exploring hours earlier.

“Politics, you know.” I sigh. “Tedious.”

I think I am overdoing it on the sighs, but what can I say? I am quite dramatic, even when I am not acting.

“Still,” I lean in, barely a hair’s breadth away from her face, “I have a say in whom I woo.”

Our lips crash together like waves on rocks. Hers are cold, which is fitting seeing how unaffected I am by this. It’s the kind of lustful kiss I give my partners, no feelings other than desire. My body is not fooled, however—kissing Nicasia has about the same effect on me as listening to Fala’s ramblings. I tip her head backward and she complies, malleable and utterly bewitched. My other hand slides from her hip to her buttox. I squeeze a barely-there cheek and she giggles against my mouth.

One of her hands is tangled in my hair while the other one slips from my shoulder down my back. As she has always done, she avoids my scars like they are made of iron. When we were together, I thought it was for my own sake that she never acknowledged them. That she was being kind, in her own way. When I had fresh wounds and I refused to take off my clothes, she understood. But when I ended it and my mind stormed to figure out what went wrong and led her astray, it started to feel more intentional. Like she sees my scars as weakness and she fears that touching them would contaminate her.

“I miss us,” she whispers against my lips.

I only hum an agreement, pulling away to kiss at her throat. Her hand continues its careful trek down my back, until she gets at the base on my spine. A dreadful shiver goes up my spine as I anticipate what she is about to do. Sure enough, her fingers circle the base of my tail. She strokes it, letting it slip between her fingers for the whole length of it. I jerk away, take a step back. As if to spite me, the sea places a slimy rock right under my foot and I slip, falling backwards into the water with the grace of a drunken redcap.

I spit out no less than a gallon of water as I resurface, choking on the salt that is sure to take days to leave my system. Nicasia’s mouth is twisted up in remnants of a smile, her eyes glinting with amusement.

“What happened?” she asks as I stand.

“Something… touched me,” I grumble, a faerie truth if nothing else.

She reaches out, moving a wet strand of hair away from my face. “The High King is afraid of a little fishie?”

I scowl, then splash her with water. “I am not afraid.”

Nicasia chuckles. I shrug her off, starting towards the beach.

“Leaving already?” she teases.

“My guards will start looking for me soon enough, if my seneschal isn’t already on her way.”

Nicasia grunts, probably rolling her eyes dramatically as she follows behind me. “That mortal has too much power.”

I stop in front of the branch I left my clothes on. I still feel the salt on my skin, drying there as the water drips away. I grab my tail and wring water from the tuft at the end of it.

“Does she?” I ask, bored.

“Yes!” Nicasia steps around and puts herself between me and the branch. “What will our world become if mortals do not learn their place? As their power grows, we ought to unite. The Land. The Sea.”

“Nicasia—” I start, but she interrupts me.

“The sea is growing impatient, Cardan,” Nicasia continues, a hint of irritation hidden under the usually pleasant lilt of her voice. “My mother thinks the Land is weak, she might act any moment.”

I inspect my nails, picking a grain of salt from under one of them. “If the Crown is so weak, why try to unite with us at all?”

“I want us to be united,” she spreads her hands, palm up.

“And I want to bathe. Your regnal birthright is quite cold.”

I step around her and start dressing up. Behind me, I hear her stop, then the rustling of fabric.

“Do not jest,” she scolds. “What she’s planning—you should take it seriously.”

“I do. And I will think it over, once I am warmed up.” I finish cuffing my shirt, then hold my arm out for her. “Will you accompany me?”

Arm in arm, we return to the Palace. Even without their High King, the Folk still partake in their traditional merriment. Unheeding of my vague promises and empty words, Nicasia spends the rest of the night at my side. We trade kisses and caresses for everyone to see. Later, we move to the rooms assigned to her to do more of the same, to bathe and exchange soft whispers. When I leave Nicasia’s chambers, she hands me notes regarding her mother’s plans to attack during Taryn Duarte’s wedding.

As I collapse on my bed, finally alone, I curse Jude’s name for being right. Still, her name is the last thing on my mind as I drift asleep.

-

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[thatesqcrush]

In Another Time, Ch.3

Bryan Kneef x Reader. CW: language & smut. WC 3.1K

ETA: forgot to mention that this is for @ storiesofsvu bingo: weekend/getaway

Bryan found himself unable to sleep. He looked over to your sleeping form tucked away under the comforter. He reached for his phone, scrolling through various apps before he was hit with an idea.

He crept out of the bedroom cautiously so as to not to interrupt you. He made his way to the kitchen to grab a glass of water before continuing on to the shared space you both used as an office. His hands traced the silver seam of your laptop before he opened it and made himself comfortable in your desk chair. It turned on, and he began to go through your files.

There was a file with photo album after photo album. He began to go through them one by one. They were meticulously labeled: year after year, season after season, theme after theme. There was one with his name and he didn’t hesitate to open. In it were photos of when the two of you first started dating - he was there at your law school graduation, there at your swearing ceremony, amongst others. There was one picture in particular that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand: a photo of you and him dancing at someone’s wedding. Your arms were around his neck, his hands around your waist - and the looks you were giving each other - there was no fooling anyone - it was love.

Bryan swallowed hard and clicked out of the file. He found another file called reviews and clicked it open. In that file were all your law school journal reviews. He began to read them voraciously, each one engrossing him further and further. He then went online and found court decisions of which you were involved in.

There was no doubt you were smart and he felt ashamed at how little potential he gave you at the firm instead of encouraging you to grow.

Going back to the photos, he went through what was the wedding album. It was a simple ceremony at city hall, with just a few friends as witnesses. A far cry from the lavish and opulent celebration he thought a partner would ever want. He clicked on the honeymoon pictures - it was the same background as the picture he saw in the bedroom. There were various pictures of you on the beach, of the two of you in bed … some more risqué than others. A part of his mind wondered if the two of you had ever made a tape. He let out a small chuckle at that thought.

There was an album called Sophie Bryn and he clicked it. Documented were sonograms and photos of your ever expanding belly. And then there was the birth - Sophie laying on his chest, his large hands basically enveloping her small body. Sophie was fast asleep, her tiny hand gripping his greying chest hair. Bryan felt a pang in his chest and his stomach knot up at the sight. These were all new feelings to him - he had always been a shitty partner. He’d find one who could fuck but then they couldn’t hold a conversation. Or he’d find one who could and then they became stage-5 clingers. Besides, he was always in the office, working - reviewing briefs, making calls, basically doing anything to stay one step ahead for his clients and for any opposing counsel. At the end of the day, there was a bevy of women in Chicago who were willing to suck his dick and do unspeakable things with minimal effort. And it was easy to call a Lyft or an Uber and send them on their way.

There was something different about you.

Bryan clicked through the rest of the photos. The hours seemed to fly by, and before Bryan knew it, it was early into the next morning. He let out a large yawn and was about to turn off your laptop when he saw a saved video with no title. Curiosity bested him and he hit play.

It was your swearing in ceremony. You wore a black sleeveless sheath dress, your hair was pinned up. Shame, he thought you always looked better with your hair down. He realized he must have been filming during it, because at one point the camera was given to someone else and it panned to him presenting his motion as to why you should be admitted.

He fast forwarded it a bit and played when it was focused on you and him. In the background he could hear a faint instrumental version of a Sinatra classic playing over the speakers. There was a party-like atmosphere as people took pictures and families congratulated one another.

You smiled at the camera as you stood next to him, your hand on his chest. A large sparkler graced your hand. He watched as this version of him pulled you even closer. “I am so proud of you. I love you.” You beamed and leaned up to kiss him.

Bryan let out a shaky breath as he hit pause. He decided to go back to bed and he was relieved to see that you were still fast asleep. An idea came to him and carefully, he scooted behind you until he was basically spooning you. He wrapped his arms around you and noticed how you instantly melded into his embrace. And he allowed himself to just feel what he felt. The scent of your shampoo filled his nostrils and he focused on that until he was fast asleep himself.

**

“I promise you’re going to love this and it’ll make up for what my gaffe.” Bryan replied, looking over briefly at you as he drove the car out of Chicago.

You shrugged and let out a small “mmm” as you looked out the window, staring at the passing scenery.

“How long is the drive again?” You asked. “I’ll need to pump.”

“No more than ninety minutes.” Bryan continued.

“K.” You responded, before adjusting the brim of your hat and closing your eyes. Bryan looked over at you and inwardly sighed. Stopped at a red light, Bryan put on a playlist and settled into the tunes while he drove.

It had been a few days since the anniversary mistake and you hadn’t seemed to cool off a bit. You begrudgingly agreed to go away for the weekend, with your friend house-sitting and watching Sophie.

Harbert, Michigan was a small beach town with a rich Scandinavian heritage that was still evident. The lakefront property that Bryan had chosen was quaint and charming. It had its own private beach, steps away to Lake Michigan. It was open and airy. To anyone else, it would appear near secluded, but the town was only a five minute drive away. And thanks to Bryan’s snooping, he knew this was where you first both went away to as a couple. As the car came to a stop in the driveway, you opened your eyes and recognized the location immediately.

You adjusted the brim of your hat and wordlessly got out of the car. There was a breeze; you took a deep inhalation of the fresh air. As you exhaled, you turned to Bryan and when he saw the smile on your face, he knew things were okay again.

**

After you both had settled in and you had pumped, you both headed to the private beach. You made a mad dash to the water, running in until you were waist deep. You turned to Bryan, your hand shielding your eyes from the sun. “Get in, the water is amazing!” you called for him.

Bryan nodded and stripped off shirt as he waded into the water, tossing it back onto the dry sand. Approaching you, Bryan grabbed you from behind and twirled you into the water some more, which resulted in you letting out a shriek. Bryan let out a laugh before he set you down. You playfully shoved him away. You then jumped into his arms, him grabbing and holding you by your thighs as you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him.

Eventually you both made it back to the sand. You sat in between Bryan’s legs, you back on his chest. An open bottle of sauvignon blanc that you were sharing sans glasses was nestled in the sand.

“Do you remember our first time here?” You asked.

Bryan blanched, grateful that you couldn’t see his face. He rubbed your shoulders and pressed a kiss to the back of your head. “Why don’t you tell me? You’re always better at telling it than I am.”

And so you did, recalling how you both came up for the winter and how you had to teach him to be more domestic. You burst into a fit giggles as you recalled how the great Bryan Kneef didn’t know how to get the fireplace going.

“You said you only knew how to start a fire here…” you giggled, taking Bryan’s hand and placing it in between your legs. Your breath hitched as he pushed the material aside and began to stroke your folds teasingly. You let out an involuntary shiver as arousal shot through you.

“And I still do.” Bryan growled, before turning you to him and laying down while simultaneously pulling you along with him. As the two of you kissed, his fingers nimbly undo your swimsuit top. You propped yourself up and the top fell to the sand, leaving you completely bare, exposing your tits. Your nipples were diamond hard.

“Bryan, you are incorrigible.”

“But you love me.”

“I do.” You replied. When he leaned up and tried to kiss you again, you pulled away. “What is it?” Bryan asked, wondering how he could have pissed you off again in such a short time.

“This… all of this.” You waved your arm around absentmindedly. “ You did really good babe.”

“So I am forgiven?”

You kissed him in response and his hands gripped your hips, encouraging you to rock against him. His cock was already so hard against you. You rocked against him, as you two continued to kiss, each of your needs and desires growing.

“Fuck me.” You replied breathlessly. You buried your face into the crook of his neck, lifting briefly to his ear. “Right here, right now.”

Bryan grabbed your ass, squeezing the fat of your flesh hard before he laid down a spank. You made a keening noise and Bryan took that as a sign of encouragement, pulling the materials of your panties aside, and pulled them so they were between your cheeks. He then repeated the action. You kissed him hard, nipping on his bottom lip and then sucking. Your eyes were blown with lust, matching his and he rolled again, so you were laying on the sand.

He moved to kiss the skin of your shoulder and you grasped his head and steered him to your tits. Bryan took the hint and buried his face in your tits, before taking a globe in his mouth, suckling. His hand squeezed your other tit as he grazed his teeth on the other. You let out a whimper at the slight edge of sharp pain combining with pleasure. He then laved your flesh with his tongue, soothing you. Bryan’s hands headed lower, pulling down your wet bottoms. You lifted your hips to help him and he broke the kiss to remove them completely. There was a very evident tent in his shorts. You helped him remove them and he was over your body once more. “You're wetter than the water.” Bryan noted as he grasped his cock and drew the fat head of his cock through your folds, teasing you. Over and over, he teased you, coating his cock with your arousal in the process. He would slide the head in and then out, before running it through your folds. You whined his name, eager for more.

Bryan lined his cock with your entrance once more, before leaning over you. He took your arms and bracketed your wrists in a bruising grip over your head. You gasped as he moved his mouth to your neck where every kiss sent shivers through you. He filled you up in one thrust, his balls nestled against you. Unlike last time, he gave you no time for you to adjust.

“Oh God!” You cried out. Bryan let out a grunt as he drove into you, every snap of his hips sent tingles up your spine. The sand on your ass irritated your skin, but you did your best to ignore it as Bryan’s cock nudged your sweet spot over and over.

You let out another whine as Bryan decided to slow his pace before sliding out of you. He laid on the sand, his cock standing magnificently, coated in your cream. He raised his arms to you and helped you crouch over him, so you could line yourself with his cock. You let out a sigh as you slid down on his cock, being filled once more. You nestled your legs outside of his and braced your hands on his chest as you began to roll your hips. Bryan’s eyes locked on yours as he guided you along as well, his hands on your hips.

The sounds that emanated from his chest were primal. You could feel the beginnings of your orgasm begin to crest. You snaked a hand between your bodies, rubbing your clit.

“I’m going to… going to… oh, don’t stop!” You cried out.

Bryan grunted in response as you came hard. You threw your head back as your walls tightened around Bryan’s cock. You gripped his chest tightly, leaving half-moon indentations. Watching you fall apart, with the sounds of birds chirping and the gentle lap of the lake against the sand, Bryan couldn’t imagine anything better.

Bryan pulled you down to him, planted his feet firmly into the sand and chased his own release, pounding you relentlessly. He let out a deep guttural groan as he came, shooting his release inside of you.

You stayed intimately connected, his hands tracing random designs along your back as you both caught your breaths. Eventually you both decided to head back into the home to clean up before heading out to dinner. Cleaning up was anything but...

**

You gripped the tiled walls as Bryan pulled your hips back onto his cock. His fingers dug into your skin. The water had grown cold but the temperature in the bathroom was anything but.

“Yes, fuck, just like that!” You cried out.

“That’s it, take my cock. God, your pussy feels so good.”

Bryan reached around and began to rub your clit. “Don’t stop!” You cried out. “I’m so close!”

“Come again for me sweetheart.” Bryan growled, his hips snapping at a faster pace. Your walls fluttered around his cock, before gripping tightly. Your cries and his grunts echoed in the bathroom as you both reached ecstasy together once more.

**

The plan that evening was to go to dinner in town. Reservations had been made at a contemporary American restaurant. You had to admit that this weekend was shaping up. You were in the bathroom, applying makeup when you heard Bryan arguing with someone on the phone. You peeked your head out and cringed when you saw him pacing back and forth, wildly gesturing.

Bryan grumbled some more and then roughly shoved his cell phone into his pocket. He let out an irritated sign and then called out to you.

“What’s up? Who was that on the phone?” You asked.

“That was the office. I need to handle a phone call with one of our co-counsel. We are hoping to settle. Apparently Firth decided to go on an impromptu trip to South Africa.”

“Oh.” You replied, before looking at the clock. “I can call and get our reservation pushed off a bit.”

Bryan smiled at you. “That would be wonderful. I promise it won’t take long and we’ll be at dinner soon. A tiny wrinkle.”

**

Hours went by as Bryan worked. You had pushed off the reservation twice and now it was looking like you weren’t going to make it after all. You picked at a box of Wheat Thins while reading a book on your tablet. Your impatience and exasperation grew as every second passed by. Evening gave way to the night and you knew there was no salvaging the plans. You began to remove your makeup when Bryan came in.

“I'm done.”

“Yeah well, you know what, so is uh, the restaurant.”

“Wha - fuck, I'm sorry, let's uh, why don't we find someplace else.” Bryan replied, whipping his phone out once more. You curled Byan’s fingers into his palm.

“No, you know what, it's late, everything's gonna be closed.”

Bryan let out an irradiated sigh. “Look, I’m sorry.” He reached for you, but you moved out of the way. You let out a shrug.

“It doesn’t matter." You reached for your phone and began to scroll, clearly looking for something.

Bryan eyed your weekender bag. “What the hell is this?” He pointed to the bag that was on the bed. "Who are you calling?"

You rolled your eyes. "I am ordering a fucking pizza because I am fucking hungry." You pointed to your bag with your phone. "That is us going home in the morning. Going away was a mistake.”

“The hell it is! We were having a great time. This was one thing.”

“Not one thing! You’ve been acting weird for God knows how long! What the fuck is going on Bryan? It’s like I hardly know you!”

Bryan swallowed hard, unable to formulate words. His brows furrowed, anger coursing through him. He was exhausted from this bizarre world life. “If you want to leave, then leave. Pack your shit and go. Why wait 'til the morning?"

You stared at Bryan, your mouth slightly open. “Bryan… I…” Your face burned and you felt your eyes begin to water. Perhaps you overreacted. “Look, I didn’t mean-”

“Save it. I don’t want to hear it. Just pack your shit and go. You can take the car. I’ll figure out my own arrangements.”

Outside, it began to rain. You heard the sound of the wind rustling the trees and moved to close the window. The lights flickered briefly before turning off completely. The room was now pitch black.

Bryan let out a swear. “The breaker is outside. I’ll go deal with it.”

“I’ll go with you.” You replied to the darkness.

“No, it’s fine. Just stay here.” Bryan spat.

**

Bryan went outside, the wind was really beginning to pick up and he was getting soaked to the bone. He hit the switches on the breaker and was pleased to see the lights come back on.

As he walked back into the house, he replayed the fight and imagined it from your perspective. He called for you as he entered the house and didn’t pay mind to his footing.

Before he knew it, he was back on his ass, the ceiling above him, the room spinning. He faintly heard you call his name before the lights flickered once more and all went black.

TBC...

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[alderaani]

Embers

summary: After Umbara, Boil learns how to endure, and how to reclaim pieces of his brothers marching on | AO3 | series

warnings: canonical character death, grief, animal injury + mentions of animal death (completely not explicit, on the level of canon-typical violence).

a/n: finally another part of my 100 clone prompts - the rest of the series is linked above! i know there’s not much in canon to support Waxer being an animal lover, but i wanted to give Gree a friend to nerd out with and it’s cute. also gotta pay homage to @nibeul’s wonderful art here - while I wasn’t consciously inspired by it, it hits on v similar themes and is just beautiful like...that image of waxer holding up numa lives in my head rent free.

-

Insects swirled in a halo around his helmet. They swarmed around the seams of his blacks, too, attracted to the small beads of sweat there, to the tiny strips of flesh he couldn’t quite cover. The rising bites itched, rubbing where the edge of his vambraces met fabric, and the buzzing was enough to drive a man mad. Boil sighed, brushing them off half-heartedly and watching them billow angrily away. They’d be back. They always were.

In the reprieve, he fumbled at his belt for the viewfinders hooked there and brought them to his visor. As he spun the dial to within half a klik so that he could search the undergrowth, his thumb settled in the comforting groove where Waxer had dropped them and chipped the plastoid. He worried at it with his nail while he scanned, frowning.

It was too still.

Too quiet.

Had been in his head for weeks now, verging on a month, and he was still waiting to feel something other than crippling emptiness. There weren’t any dreams any more, none except for the oldest one they all pretended not to have; levelling a blaster against Kenobi’s head and pulling the trigger. Even that didn’t feel like the nightmare it used to.

Eventually he lowered the viewfinder, feeling the hair stand up on the back of his neck at the stifled sound of his own breath in the dense air. A faint, humid breeze stirred the leaves, sending a cloud of thick yellow pollen up towards the canopy. Boil blinked to bring up the filter diagnostic on his HUD, keeping his belly low to the ground to avoid the stuff as it drifted lazily overhead.

“Kid, you doin’ alright out there?”

He listened to the static hum of the comm line for a few moments, biting back the panic that crawled up the back of his throat when it dragged on just a beat too long.

“Apart from gettin’ gnawed on by the bugs? Just grand, Sir.”

Potshot sounded a little winded, but that was probably just the heat. Blacks self-regulated temperature, but only to the extent that they made sure you sweated evenly. It never used to be quite so bad; that had been the one thing Phase 1 armour had going for it, for all it was bulkier and less adaptable to varied terrain. He supposed the Republic had had to cut costs somewhere. Waxer would’ve been whining by now that his ass was so hot they could light a flare off it. Potshot was young enough that he’d never known any different.

“Good, you see anything?” Boil grunted, pinging his location anyway. There was no real reason for it; Potshot might’ve still been green but he wasn’t stupid, and he’d done well to keep up so far. Boil could stand being self aware enough to acknowledge that he hadn’t been the most welcoming, or the most patient with the new partner he’d never wanted. He wouldn’t have had any right to be overbearing now, but it was for his own comfort, however small and bittersweet.

“Nothin’ at all. That seem odd to you too?” Potshot said, as the surveillance holos he’d taken popped up. Boil flipped through them, earmarking a couple to show him how to improve the angle later. The important shit was all there - enough to confirm what he’d already suspected. No birds, no creatures, no fresh droppings.

Just the bugs, and the trees, and them.

“Yeah, it’s odd alright. Think we’ve found what the general’s looking for.”

Boil felt pressure around his right boot and turned, vibroblade in hand, to stab into the fleshy vine knotting round it. It writhed and retreated, leaving behind pitted, smoking trails where acid had started eating into the plastoid. He registered the damage with a dull sort of annoyance. It was something else to take care of later, a way to look busy and shape the silence. It would fend off the others and their offers of company, made out of pity he couldn’t bear to look at.

“Really? What’re you seein’, boss?” Potshot asked.

Boil glanced upwards to track the position of the sun; high, almost directly overhead. At the peak of the day this place should have been teeming. Instead the only tracks he’d found had been baked solid, and this wasn’t the shocked quiet that followed a stampede. It was stagnant, aging.

“This forest is in the centre of an old super-volcanic crater, right?” he asked, not waiting for a response. It had been in the mission dossier, alongside profiles of the flesh eating plants, the deadly pollen and the venomous creatures, all of it fenced into the sloped, unforgiving bowl of the terrain. It was the kind of forest that stuck in the mind. “And we know that something has driven the wildlife away.”

Potshot hummed, the comm muffling for a second as he shifted. It took a moment of bitter disappointment coiling in Boil’s belly for him to realise that he’d been waiting for a sharp quip that wasn’t coming. He swallowed thickly, wondering how it was possible to feel so wrongfooted while lying down. If he’d ever find his balance again. If he ever wanted to feel whole now that such a fundamental piece was missing.

Potshot groaned suddenly. “Kriff it, the factories we’re looking for are underground, aren’t they?”

Boil forced a chuckle, choking past the self hatred clawing up through his lungs. The kid deserved better, deserved a superior who didn’t constantly treat him like a ghost.

“That’s it, kid. Just like the simulations, eh?”

Potshot laughed, the easy sound making Boil’s throat seize in longing so strong his teeth ached. Waxer would’ve loved him, and that made it all the worse.

“Hardly. What do we do next?”

“Alright,” Boil said, lifting the viewfinder for one last look at where he could see slight fog rising through the trees. “You get your ass back to forward command and debrief the General, I’m heading in for a closer look.”

“ What? But - Sir! We’re supposed to be working as a team. I can’t leave you -”

“Sometimes working as a team means you do your duty and trust the others to do theirs.” He cut in, keeping his voice steady by force of will. Sometimes, it meant carrying on alone. Boil clipped the viewfinder back into place and prepared to move, even as Potshot continued protesting. Boil didn’t answer for long enough that silence fell on the line.

“...am I not performing to the standard expected, Sir?”

Potshot’s voice was soft, all vulnerable underbelly. Still so shiny, and Boil remembered feeling like that, like there was still a scorecard constantly on his forehead.

“No - kid -” Boil sighed, dropping his head forward. He’d never learned how to be gentle - it hadn’t ever come naturally, and there had been no reason to lose his sharp edges when Waxer had always been there to foil them for him. He felt sharper now than ever, full of shards that didn’t sit right, and fished among the pieces for something his brother might have said. “I trust you to have my back. You’re doing everything right. But...sometimes we’ve gotta think of the mission. We need more proof before we can move in, but the two of us get caught, command loses what we already know.”

“Can’t we just send a comm?” Potshot asked, his voice still tight and hurt sounding and he was fucking this up, shouldn’t have been trusted to try to fix himself without breaking everyone else wide open in the process.

“Don’t trust it not to get intercepted,” Boil said, which was only half a lie, and would have made Cody scoff at the back to front over-caution. “And it don’t all fit in a comm. They’ll need everything you can remember to plan the advance.”

Potshot sighed, but when he spoke again his voice was looser. “...Yes, Sir. I won’t let you down.”

“I know you won’t,” Boil said, feeling his own chest lighten. “If you don’t hear from me by 1100 then raise me on the priority channel.”

He listened until Potshot had stated a reluctant affirmative and clicked off the line, then bellied out of the undergrowth and headed further in, to the epicentre of the unnatural quiet. He liked the way his mind went silent on recon, how everything else fell away. It wasn’t quite the same, tilted just a little off axis, but similar enough to when it had been Waxer at his six that if he didn’t think about it, he could almost trick himself into believing nothing had changed.

Plus, the space was good, just for a few minutes, where he didn't have to pretend for anyone.

It was a quiet journey, for the most part, punctuated only by the steps he couldn’t quite muffle. His thoughts were broken some time later when he suddenly heard it; the distant mechanical boom of something deep underground. He quickened his pace, following the vibrations until the earth under his feet grew hot, the air shimmering unnaturally in front of him. It had been like this at Point Rain, when the sand baked and glinted, glass-like, under the blaze of the overhead sun. If he hadn’t known the super-volcano was very thoroughly extinct, he could have kidded himself that it was just the geothermal energy of magma moving close to the surface. A clever disguise. But not clever enough.

The ground sloped ever downwards the further into the bowl he got. He watched where he placed his feet as it grew rockier, stones and small craters acting like pitfall traps concealed by the moss. Boil pinged his scanner every minute, searching for Seppie probes as the terrain tapered, falling away into a green-rimmed yawning abyss. Set into the centre of it was a huge grate, the source of the searing air. Here were the factories they’d been looking for, exactly where he’d suspected. It was a muted sort of satisfaction.

He crouched at the edge of the drop, taking holos and transmitting them directly to the Commander’s HUD. Then he checked his chrono and sent an unapologetic follow up that he’d be late to rendezvous, seeing that 1100 was about to come and go. Then he minimised the comms on his HUD to flash for priority only; he’d get bollocked for being late sooner or later, but he figured it would be novel to have it fully in person.

Finally he turned, ready to start the rapid scale back towards the 212th's forward camp, when he registered a low, keening whine.

His blaster was in his hands within a moment, trained at the knee-high leaves. The sound came again, higher this time, followed by laboured panting.

He gently brushed aside some of the foliage with his blaster barrel. Dark eyes stared at him from between the leaves. They both froze. It was some sort of animal, obviously; a mammal, probably a predator. It was small too, with paws too large for its scrawny body and a dark, downy fur that rippled with every laboured breath.

Sharp teeth. A narrow muzzle. A long, whip-like tail.

A vornskr, Boil thought, and hated how readily the identification came, how readily he tensed in anticipation of the inevitable Boil can you see - do you know how rare -

He shook the memories away, of Waxer leaning precariously over the top bunk to wave some manual Commander Gree had sent him in his face, bleating about some animal or species that Boil couldn’t pronounce. In the present the vornskr pup cowered away from him, pushing backwards on thin, spindly legs. Deceptively powerful though, he’d bet.

The creature let out another whine and stumbled, an odd abortive movement. Boil pressed more of the leaves away to get a better look and swore when he saw the brutal metal trap closed around one of its small hind legs, paring down to bone. His blaster was up and trained on the thing before he thought much about it. Better to shoot it, put it out of its misery, than prolong its suffering. It was what they did as part of the cleanup sometimes; wildlife was usually pretty good at getting out of the active battlefronts, but there were always stragglers. The too old or the too young, mostly.

Creatures like this one.

The vornskr stilled, staring at him with those big, wide eyes as if it knew exactly what he was thinking. Boil swallowed. Waxer wouldn’t have let him shoot it. Waxer also wasn’t here now to stop him, but Boil felt his arm lower all the same, just a few inches before he pulled the trigger. The vornskr yelped as the trap hinges came apart in two neat halves and immediately tried to run. It didn’t get very far before it collapsed, panting again.

Boil sighed and shook his head, holstering his blaster across his back.

“That was a stupid thing to do,” he tsked, shuffling closer.

He kept half an eye on the tail, remembering something about it being venomous. While being high off his ass on some unknown substance had the potential to make Cody’s dressing down more interesting, it might also kill him before he got there.

The vornskr growled as he leaned over it, baring needle sharp teeth, and made a snap at him when Boil reached out.

“Ah, give over,” he muttered, batting the attempt away. The little body was light in his hands as he lifted it, careful to let the injured leg hang out as he folded it into his chest. The vornskr made an odd, throaty sound and shifted, almost experimental. Then it huffed, and after a pause laid its head across his vambrace.

Boil rolled his eyes at the display, setting off towards forward command as soon as he was halfway sure he wasn’t in danger of losing a finger.

It was...nice, to have that little body cradled to him, reminiscent of better occasions when Waxer just had to stick his nose into every curious happening and inevitably adopted some struggling lifeform. However much Boil had complained, it had never steered them wrong.

When he got back to command it was to find Cody pacing the perimeter, Potshot perched on a crate nearby. The Commander’s bucket was under his arm. Boil winced. With Cody that was never an accident - usually so he could get the full weight of a glare in, the excavating kind he’d learned from Kenobi and then weaponised so that it pierced straight down to bone.

“Boss!” Potshot exclaimed, pushing off his seat. “You made it!”

“What time d’you call this?” Cody demanded, stalking over. “I was about to -”

Cody stopped short, gaze dropping to the furry bundle against Boil’s breastplate. Something in his expression softened and Boil felt in his heart, panicking as a lump rose in his throat.

“What’s that?” Cody asked.

Boil let his gaze slide downwards to a point far beyond, where two troopers were fighting over a tarp.

“Found it in a trap,” he said, his voice ragged. “Couldn’t - couldn’t let it die.”

He flicked his eyes back to Cody’s face and breathed through the grief and understanding he found there. Cody stepped forward and clasped Boil’s elbow.

“I’m sure Tranq will be able to do something for it.” A little upturn crept into the line of Cody’s lips. “Debrief in fifteen.”

Boil nodded and broke away, tipping his head to Potshot before clearing his throat roughly and popping his bucket off one-handed as he made his way to the medtent. The sun was warm on his face here, the air lighter. A butterfly flew lazily past and the vornskr lifted its head, tracking the motion with large, interested eyes.

Boil smiled, hoisting his bucket under one arm and daring to touch the creature's head with his freed hand. It wouldn’t ever bring Waxer back, but it meant something that this little life continued, because of the choices his brother would have made and all that he had been. Like the phantom touch of the sun still lingering in cooling earth.

It wouldn’t ever be enough. But, perhaps, it was just the right amount to cling onto.

-

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[aeruthien]

Out of the Door and into the Beyond

Fandom: Critical Role Characters/Pairing: Widobrave

Summary:

After the visit to his parents' grave, Caleb is in need of his life partner and best friend.

Or, me not believing that Caleb wouldn't immediately seek out Veth after THAT happened.

Also read it on AO3

--- "Sir? Are you alright?"

The voice pierces through the fog in Caleb's mind, and the world around him jolts back into focus. He is shivering, only now aware of the cold damp which has penetrated deep into his clothes.

He blinks once. Twice.

When had it grown dark?

With a flicks of his wrists, three golden orbs appear into the night sky, illuminating an older man, whose arm flies up to shield his eyes.

"Careful!"

Caleb ducks his head in.

"I am sorry," he mutters. The light disappear, and he waits quietly for some kind of retribution even as he pushes himself to his feet.

What ditch had he fallen asleep in? He presses a palm against his forehead, ignoring the wave of nausea in his stomach, trying to recollect his thoughts.

"That's alright," the man grumbles. "You just spooked me, is all."

He sighs, and Caleb relaxes marginally.

"To be honest, you would not be the first one who lost track of time here. Many lost souls, after the war."

Caleb frowns and forces himself to focus on his surroundings. In the dim light of the stars and moon, he can make out two large, flat stones in front of him.

A cemetery. He is in a cemetery. How did-?

His stomach lurches. Suddenly, the satchel at his side feels horribly empty, and without it, he is off balance. Untethered.

With a shock, he realizes that the man had been speaking Zemnian the entire time.

"Honestly, son," the man continues gently, "it looks like you've seen some hardship yourself. Are you here for a friend?"

Caleb shakes his head and stumbles away from the graves.

"No, I-,"

His eyes dart around but don't take anything in.

"I must go."

He doesn't wait for a reply, and flees as fast as his shaking legs can carry him. In the distance, the lanterns illuminating the village of Blumenthal give off an almost ethereal glow.

Caleb stares at it, until the bang of a closing door shakes him from his thoughts.

Then, he teleports away.

---

Late night visitors are not a strange occurrence to the Brenatto household. What is strange, though, is when they knock. The members of the Mighty Nein would normally just barge in unannounced, whether or not they had send word of their arrival ahead.

Yeza glances over with wide but determined eyes, ready to get to Luc out if necessary, and Veth sneaks over to the door, her crossbow in her hand.

She waits a second, but the knock does not repeat.

"Who is there? I warn you, I'm armed."

No response. She mutters a soft curse under her breath.

"Here goes nothing."

With her Mage Hand, she pulls the door open, her crossbow immediately trained on the silhouette outside.

It is humanoid. Large. Should have worn the fucking goggles, Veth thinks in the second it takes her eyes to adjust to the darkness. But the figure does not attack. Or move. And then Veth realizes who it is.

"Caleb?"

---

Caleb follows her willingly as she leads him inside, but gives no other indication that he notices her presence. Yeza's fearful expression morphs into concern, and he sprints ahead to open the door to their guest chamber.

"Come on," Veth urges as they approach the human sized bed. "Sit down, Caleb."

His gaze is vacant in a manner she has not seen since the aftermath of Trent Ikithon's trial, and and shivers are running through his body.

"I'll make some tea," Yeza offers uncertainly from behind her.

Veth nods. Tea is good. That at least she learned from Caduceus. If nothing else, it would warm him up some.

"I'm going to take of your coat, now, alright?" she says softly.

As expected, Caleb does not respond, but Veth keeps narrating her actions as she undresses him and pulls a blanket over his shoulders. When she is done, she continues with stories about Luc, taking his hands in her smaller ones to warm them up. The familiarity of it is jarring. She had spend many hours hidden inside empty barns and dirty inns, chattering softly into the silence as she pressed close against Caleb, waiting for him to return to her after a bad day.

At one point, Yeza enters with tea, and an instinctual hiss of protection almost escapes from behind her teeth. When he is gone, she picks up her stories, muttering disjointedly about Luc's newest friends, the apothecary, their new trade agreement with Pumat Sol, and her new magic. She is halfway through elaborating on one of the more recent parent-teacher meetings -Luc had shot a bully with a crossbow-, when Caleb takes in a deep, shuddering breath.

Veth pulls away from her position curled against his side.

"Caleb? Are you with me?"

He blinks, gazed unfocused.

"Veth?" he whispers.

"Hi," Veth smiles. She stands and presses her lips against the side of his head, hugging him gently.

"What happened?" Caleb mutters, his voice slurred. One arm curls around her, and Veth sighs in relief.

"Well, you tell me. You teleported on my doorstep."

Caleb eyes dart around the room.

"Oh."

A pause.

"I'm sorry."

"That doesn't matter, silly." Veth grabs a cup. "Here. Tea. Cleric's orders."

The cup is small in Caleb's human hands, but as his fingers close around it, the shaking seems to subside a little, which Veth takes as a win.

"You know, Cay, of course I do not mind having you here, but... why now?"

She perks up.

"Wait! Did someone hurt you? Do we need to kill someone? It was Ludinus wasn't it? I knew it! I'll call the others-"

"No, Veth, no. It was not Ludinus."

Veth sinks back down. "Oh.... But we still get to kill him right? I'm sure Beau can think of a plausible reason."

Caleb's lips curl up briefly, and Veth grins. There. Mission accomplished.

"Let's leave him for another time, ja?" Caleb murmurs with exasperated patience.

"Alright, alright," Veth concedes with a huff. They sit a moment in companionable silence. Before the Nein, this is where she would have let it be, if she had even gotten that far. They would have waited until daybreak, each with their own fears and regrets, and too scared to grow closer yet too scared to leave.

"Tell me what happened?" Veth prompts softly in the warmth of her home.

"I think..." Caleb starts. She squeezes his hand in encouragement.

"I think I stepped through that door."

Veth sits up sharply. Caleb is staring at the floor, but there is no pain or sorrow in his expression. Instead, there is a tentative wonder.

"But," he says, words suddenly tumbling out of his mouth, "I do not know if the door is closed behind me. And I want to run back. As fast as I can."

Veth waits a bit before answering, making sure he is done talking.

"That is great, Caleb," she says tentatively. His head whips around to her, but she continues before he can object.

"It is great! You did it! And it is very scary, I get that, but now you know what it feels like on this side!"

She puts her hands on his cheek.

"And if you do step back, it will be easier to go through it again the next time. Until you can close it for good."

Caleb stares at her, before taking a shuddering breath and closing his eyes.

"Ja. Maybe."

Veth pulls him against her so that his forehead rests against her shoulder.

"I'm proud of you."

Caleb's fingers dig into her arm, and his shoulders start shaking.

"I miss them," he chokes. "So much."

"I know." Veth presses another kiss against his hair. "I know."

She holds him as he cries, until finally exhaustion drags him to sleep. She stays the night curled up against his side like they had many times before, and when they wake, it is to the smell of fresh bread in their nose, and the high pitched squeals of her son in their ears.

Caleb is quiet at breakfast, but smiles gently at Luc's antics, and when she catches his gaze he gives her a shy, grateful nod.

"Let's go to the beach!" Veth declares to break any tension, and her family happily agrees.

Maybe the door isn't closed, she thinks as they drop themselves down in the sand, the warm sun shining down on them. And maybe it will never be.

But she will try her hardest to make the outside of it worthwhile, so Caleb has a reason to stay.

[awanderingdeal]

Simply having a wonderful Christmas Time [Part 1]

Merry Christmas to all those folks who celebrate today! This one is dedicated to those of you of who are perhaps not spending Christmas in the way that you would like this year. I hope this brings you a little bit of Joy. Please note that this fic is filled with happy Christmas people so if that is going to make you feel worse then please avoid. I’m hoping to have a Coops instalment up for those who celebrate on the 25th and O’Knutzy on 26th for all those who have boxing day and second Christmas.

CW: CHRISTMAS AND FOOD TALK

Rating: T, there are some sexual implications but I’m pretty happy leaving this at a T. Let me know if you think that needs to change. 

And finally, to @lumosinlove. Thank you for creating the sweater weather universe and in particular the fabulous OC’s that feature in this fic. They really have been a light in the darkness of this year. 

Anyway, let’s get on with this show.

P.S. Yes, we are just ignoring the fact that hockey players most definitely do not get two weeks off at Christmas.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alex had bitched for days about spending his Christmas in the heat of Mauritius - he wasn’t supposed to be opening presents in shorts, dammit - but he’d been willing to concede that he may have been wrong from the very moment that he had stepped through the door of their beach front villa.

He was tired and groggy from the day of travel. The recycled air of the plane had made his throat scratchy; he needed a long, hot shower, and he was generally miserable. 

“Almost there now, sweetcheeks,” Natalie reassured him as the taxi rounded a corner. “You’re going to love it, I promise.” 

The villa was one that Natalie and Kasey had stayed in a few times before, boasting of it’s view and proximity to perfect waves. Right now, Alex didn’t really care about those things. As long as the villa had a comfortable bed and a large shower, he’d be satisfied. 

Natalie was right, and soon the three of them were piling out of the car, hauling bags of luggage behind them. They were only there for two weeks but somehow had five large suitcases between them. 

“I swear, I’m going to sleep for two days,” Alex grumbled as Kasey keyed in the number to obtain the keys. 

“Try and stay awake for a few more hours,” Kasey said. “You’ll feel way better tomorrow for it.”

“Yeah, yeah, jetlag, blah, try to acclimatise to local time, blah -” Alex’s rant was cut short as he stepped through the door. “Wow,” he gasped. 

The villa was gorgeous. He’d expected the large expanse of open plan luxury; a haven of polished metal and glass windows that showed panoramic views of white sand meeting a crystal clear sea. What he hadn’t expected was the giant Christmas tree, at least a few feet taller than himself, and the rest of the expertly placed decorations. 

“Do you like it?” Kasey asked. Alex saw the glance that he and Natalie shared. They were probably worried, he’d been frozen in place for the last 30 seconds. 

Alex nodded, taking a moment to find his words, “It’s incredible. Just like home. Better.”

Everywhere he looked there was something new. A wreath on the wall. Faux furs draped over the seating. A garland that snaked all the way up the spiral staircase. 

“Are those?” Alex stepped towards the stockings that hung on the wall. Each one had a name sewn into it. Natalie. Alex. Kasey.

“Yeah,” Natalie nodded. “One for each of us. Lils made those.”

Alex let himself be pulled into Kasey’s arms, feeling a bit overwhelmed. 

“We know that Christmas with your family is very important to you and we just want you to know that we are incredibly grateful that you decided to spend it with us this year,” Kasey said softly. 

“Finn already bailed anyway,” Alex gave a small laugh. He felt Natalie join them and her arms were also there, enclosing Alex between his two favourite people. 

“We told them to leave the tree. Thought we could decorate it together?” Natalie told him.

“God, I love you two.” Alex breathed. 

That had been ten days ago. Now, a cheesy Christmas movie played on the TV but Alex wasn’t paying it much attention; enjoying the memory and being curled into Kasey’s chest. His fingers played idly with Natalie’s blonde waves as she snored softly in his lap.  

It was the perfect end to a perfect day, a delicately balanced mixture of tradition and newness. Alex saw how hard his partners had worked to give him a Christmas day that rivalved those of his memories with his family and Alex couldn’t wait to thank them properly for it tomorrow. For now though, he was content to just bask in the moment.

“Al,” Kasey whispered. “Do you want to head to bed? I’m not really watching this.”

Alex looked up at Kasey, a gentle smile resting on his lips, “Yeah, bed sounds good to me.”

“Shotgun, not waking Natalie up” Kasey laughed.

“No need to wake her up. I’ll carry her,” Alex said. "Besides, she’s not that bad.”

Kasey frowned, “She bit me once.” 

“Yeah, and did you clap in her ear like you did to me that time?” Alex replied. “Because if so, then you deserved it.” 

“Not my fault you both sleep like the dead.” Kasey mumbled under his breath, switching off the TV and taking their dirty glasses to the sink. 

Natalie gave a small grumble as she was picked up, wriggling in Alex’s arms before settling herself into the crook. 

“God, she’s so cute.” Alex spoke quietly. 

“You both are.” Kasey said with a grin, pressing a kiss first to Natalie’s cheek and then Alex’s. He led them the short distance to the bedroom, pulling the thin sheets on the bed back so that Alex could lie Natalie down. 

“I’m just gonna brush my teeth,” Alex started to walk towards the en-suite but suddenly his phone was vibrating against the bedside table. The noise seemed extraordinarily loud in the quiet room. “Fuck, that’ll be Finn. Get that please, Kase?”

Kasey grabbed the phone and Alex heard a snort as he read the contact name, Fillet O’Fish. 

“Hi!” Finn’s voice boomed a few seconds before his face appeared. 

“Sssh.” Kasey hissed, rapidly hitting the down volume key. 

“Oh, hi, Blizz,” Finn said. “Don’t know why I wasn’t expecting you. You’re naked. Why are you naked? Am I interrupting something? Is Alex naked too? I don’t want to see that.” 

Alex plucked the phone from Kasey’s hand with a laugh. “He’s not naked, we’re just getting reading for bed,” Alex replied, panning the camera down and showing Kasey’s plaid pyjama pants to prove his point. 

Alex pecked Kasey on the lips, “I’m going to take this to the other room.” 

“Alright,” Kasey returned the kiss. “Merry Christmas Finn,” he added, giving the camera a wave. 

“Merry Christmas, Kase!” a chorus of replies was heard. 

Alex wandered from the bedroom, settling himself into a seat that gave a stunning view of the beach that their villa was sat on. 

“Wait, isn’t it only 9 pm there?” Finn asked. “Why are you going to bed already?” 

Before Alex could answer, Logan appeared in the frame, leaning over the back of the sofa to wrap his arms around Finn’s neck, “So nosy, Fish. Maybe they tired each other out, eh?” 

Finn’s nose wrinkled with a look of disgust, “eww.”

“Nothing like that,” Alex laughed. “Not this evening anyway,” he continued, a slight twinkle in his eyes.

“Get it, Alex,” Leo teased, flopping himself onto the sofa next to Finn. 

“Look at this view,” Alex said, turning the camera so they could see the idyllic scenery in an attempt to change the subject. It only served to trigger a memory from earlier that day, one that he probably shouldn't have been thinking about whilst on the phone with his brother. 

Alex sighed happily to himself as he looked down at the watch on his wrist. It looked out of place against his bright blue and pink flamingo shorts, but Alex had received it from Kasey earlier that morning and he refused to take it off. 

It was barely 11 am. However, it was Christmas day, so Alex didn't feel even the slightest bit guilty about the cosmopolitan balanced between his fingers, as he waited for Natalie and Kasey to come back from their surf. Alex wasn’t the biggest fan of the water, preferring to stay in the shade of the giant umbrella they had set up despite Natalie’s playful chirping. 

Alex had pointed the watch out on his and Kasey’s first date without Natalie. They'd been heading to the aquarium when Alex had spotted it in the window of the jewellers. He'd made the briefest passing comment about how beautiful it was and it made Alex's heart sing that Kasey had remembered. 

As if they knew that he was thinking about them, Alex saw the sun bronzed figures of his partners making their way towards him. They looked good; fitted wetsuits showing off their toned bodies and their faces brightened by laughter. Alex loved Kasey’s laugh, people thought it was rare but he just saved it for those that he thought truly deserved it. Apparently, Alex was one of those people now. 

“Close your mouth, O’Hara.” Natalie teased, grabbing a towel and piling her hair into it. 

“Hmm,” Finn nodded, pulling Alex from the memory too soon. “That is beautiful. I think mine has been better though.” His brother's eyes glanced back towards Logan with a smirk and Alex had a sneaking suspicion that Logan's torso wasn't the only thing that was bare. 

"Yeah, you can keep that one for yourself," Alex retorted. 

“Hey Haz! Did Kase like his present?” Leo asked. 

Alex had enjoyed getting to know his brother’s second boyfriend. He offered a stabilizing presence to Finn and Logan’s chaos and to paraphrase shrek, “he was like an onion, he had layers.” Leo had been Kasey’s secret santa and Alex hated to admit it, but he had done a great job. 

“Unfortunately yes,” Alex pretended to glare. “I suppose I have Finn to thank for helping you with that?”

Leo shook his head, “Your mom actually. She was more than willing to send many photos of baby Alex.” 

Alex barked out a laugh, “Of course she was.” He couldn’t really be mad. The three of them had spent an age flipping through the scrapbook of his childhood photos, laughing at the annotations that Leo had added in his delicate script. 

The alarm on Leo’s phone blared. “Sorry, that’s the timer for the potatoes,” the blond apologised. “I better go and check on them.”

“I can come and help.” Finn said.

Alex saw Leo visibly wince before he replied, "No thank you sweetheart. Y’all stay and talk with your brother.” 

Alex raised an eyebrow, “Do I even want to know what disasters you are causing?”

“You cannot talk, Alexander,” Logan defended. “You nearly burnt your kitchen down making toast.”

Alex didn’t have an argument to that, it was true. He hadn’t been much help with Christmas dinner either. 

“Are you sure that you don’t want me to do anything?”  Alex asked for the thousandth time. Besides setting the table, he really hadn’t done much to help with the meal and he didn’t feel great about it. 

“Yes,” Natalie insisted. “We really do not need a trip to the ER today. Just sit down and look pretty.” 

He protested a little but did as he was told. He watched Natalie and Kasey work, moving seamlessly around one another. And then Alex was standing again. He went back inside, ignoring his partner's queries. He was only going to be a moment anyway. Alex reappeared with his camera. He may not be able to cook, but he was excellent at photography. He remembered how they had found so much joy in looking at the photos of himself earlier and wanted to document their first Christmas together. Hopefully, in years to come it would bring them similar joy. 

He took photo after photo of the meal coming together. Kasey flipping the steaks on the BBQ. Natalie glazing the prawns in sauce. The private glances they shared. 

The camera was taken out of his hands and he heard the shutter snap as Natalie fed him pieces of peach. 

He beckoned the two of them over and took a few shots of the three of them together, Santa hats perched on their heads, until Natalie was cursing about something burning.

He’d go through the photos later but he doubted there would be many that he wanted to delete. 

“Earth to Alex!” Finn shouted and Alex blushed as he realised that they had been trying to get his attention for a little while.

Logan rolled his eyes, “You and Finn make the same stupid faces.”

“Oi!” Alex and Finn exclaimed together. 

“C’est Vrai,” Logan chimed.

“I’ll admit to being a hopeless romantic.” Alex shrugged. “It’s part of my charm.”

Finn snorted at that, “It’s not my fault that you and Le are so cute.”

“Agreed.” Alex nodded. “Nat and Kase should be less perfect. It’s all their fault really.”

“You’re both disgusting,” Logan groaned, but he was pressing his lips to the bare flesh on the back of Finn's neck, and Alex had known those two long enough to know exactly where that was going. 

“On that note, I am going to bed. Have a fantastic Christmas, boys.”

[estellaelysian]

Cross My Heart

A/N: Here comes the second fic of the day. For the good old Valentine's Day. I thought writing this could'nt make me feel anymore single than I already am, but lol, it did the trick.

Cheers to all the single people out there 🥂

Also, this is kinda long, like around 2300 words, so good luck

For @choicesfebchallenge Day 14: Valentine

Ethan double checked everything for the gazzilionth time, his heart beating a little faster than usual. He was in awe of the effect Alishka had on him, always would be, but this had never been his thing.

For almost as long as he could remember, he knew he wasn’t the kind who’d arrange fancy dinners, get a huge bouquet of roses and drape his apartment in red just because it was Valentine’s Day.

Good god. Valentine’s Day.

It fell on his never ending list of frivolous occasions, plain and unimportant. He found it ridiculous how much of attention the day yielded. Add it on to the amount of money people were willing to spend (on giant stuffed bears and boxes of chocolates – which didn’t make sense at all) to celebrate their valentine, and there you had it, Ethan Ramsey shaking his head.

If you wanted to celebrate your valentine, why was it supposed to be just one day?

Every day could be spent in celebrating your partner.

Or atleast that was what he felt.

And still, he couldn’t believe that he was doing this, on Valentine’s Day.

He had never felt so bizarre and nervous at the same time.

But looking back, he also never had anyone to celebrate. He had been too busy building his career, and with Harper, it just hadn’t clicked.

And Alishka changed that, just like she changed almost everything in his life.

Did he actually need a day to celebrate her?

Jesus Christ.

He wished his brain would stop thinking, atleast for a good moment, and leave him alone.

He paced the kitchen, making imperceptible changes to the fork and turned the plate, before glancing at the wall clock. Okay, he thought. She will be here any minute now.

And yet, he couldn’t resist himself.

Pulling out his phone, he thumbed in a quick text, and hit the send button.

When will you be here?

And almost immediately, his phone buzzed with her answer.

Soon enough. I just wanted to know though, what do you have in store for me?

He smiled.

I can’t tell.

And his smile grew even wider with her next text.

Seriously with the suspense right now.

Okay… here goes nothing.

Believe me, I won’t have a giant teddy bear waiting at home for you with a box of chocolates in his hands.

She texted:

I believe you.

***

He was wrong. Her arrival was seemingly delayed.

Time couldn’t seem to go more slowly as he waited, quite impatiently for that knock on the door. It was like drips from water torture. Him on his feet, waiting by the window to get a glimpse at her as she entered his apartment complex, or him wringing his fingers, as he thought about all the ways this could unfold, or, him, just sitting at the dining table with his head in his hands, thinking why did he even think of doing this.

When at last, the doorbell did ring, he found himself positively nervous, much more than he had been all evening.

He rose from the couch and, opening the door to reveal Alishka, in the blue sweatshirt he had gifted her on her birthday, looking just as gorgeous as she would had she dressed up in some sequined dress or even a gown, for that matter of fact.

He knew he wouldn’t prefer her dressed any other way than she was looking right now.

‘Well? Would you let me in yet? Or are we supposed to exchange our surprises right here at your doorstep?’ she asked, pulling him out of his daze.

‘Oh, uh, ofcourse, come on in.’

Did she just say exchange surprises?

Oh God.

He couldn’t resist himself. ‘Did you just say exchange surprises?’

She gave him the smile, crooked and perfect. ‘Yeah. Why? Are you the only one allowed to surprise me?’

With a shake of head, he ushered her inside. She pulled off her scarf and let it down on the couch, before turning to face him.

She was beautiful, he thought as he took in her sultry green eyes, the voluminous brunette waves inching down her back and her natural pouty lips. It was as if she had come down straight from heaven for him.

‘So? Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?’

He smiled. ‘Ofcourse. Gladly.’

Taking her hand, he led her to the dining table, where he had set out the table, arranging their chairs side by side inside of opposite to each other, because that was how they were always supposed to be. Side by side.

She made a faint smile at the tulips kept in a vase at the middle of the table. ‘You remembered.’

He returned her smile. ‘Yeah, I did. They are your favorite flowers after all.’

‘Yeah. Come on now,’ she said, urging him to sit down.

They served up, and she made a gasp at the dishes that now stood in front of her. Lasagna, and nacho chips and salsa, two of her favorites.

‘I know it’s too simple, but…’

‘Are you kidding? It’s perfect.’

They dug in, having dinner together and telling each other stories, all sorts of them, just how Ethan had imagined it to be. And still, he couldn’t bring himself to get rid of all the nervousness flowing through his body.

Was she really happy and satisfied with all that he had done?

The light hand she aid on his brought him back to reality again.

‘Ethan, I know what you are thinking, but let me assure you, I wouldn’t prefer it any other way. I absolutely love this.’

How did she guess what was going on in his mind?

And how, just how, was she at so much ease with him when he himself was not?

‘Come on now, loosen up,’ she said, holding out a spoonful to him.

‘I will,’ he said, smiling.

***

Rest of the dinner passed easily, and Alishka was as excited as a little child would be when the desert was to be brought out.

She made another gasp when he revealed the sweet dish. It was Rabdi, a nod to her Indian roots, which she loved and expressed quite too often, even if she wasn’t raised there.

‘How did you–’

‘I had some help from your mom,’ he answered, and she broke out into a big grin, throwing her arms around his neck and squeezing him tight.

‘You are the best. This is incredible.’

‘Thank you,’ he said, smiling into her hair. ‘And so are you.’

‘Oh my god, this is the best Valentine’s Day ever.’

‘Well not yet. This is not my surprise.’

‘What?’ She looked stricken. ‘Then what is it?’

‘How about we finish desert first?’

She pouted. ‘Or there is a second option. You could show me what you have for me.’

‘No. Desert is fine.’

He chuckled and watched as she eagerly devoured the dish before looking up at him. He wondered if his amusement showed in his eyes.

‘Okay, now you better give me my present, or I’ll look for it myself.’

‘I am sure no matter how hard you try, you won’t find it, but you know what, I am not going to make you wait anymore.’

He disappeared into his bedroom before coming back a minute later, holding a small white envelope, and handing it to her.

‘This is my present.’

***

He watched, with overwhelming nervousness, as she shook the hair out of her eyes once before gazing up at him and reaching for the envelope.

He wondered for a moment about what would happen next, as he took a seat next to her. She scooted her chair closer to hers, and he could smell her hair, the scent clean and fresh as flowers. He resisted the urge to put his arm around her, instead focusing on her as she took a deep breath and began reading the letter he had spent hours of late night writing.

Dear Alishka,

Most of my life, the sands have fallen in the hourglass quite mercilessly, but I try to remind myself of the joyful year we have shared together, growing closer in what I would call the most amazing way ever.

I wonder who I am without you. Even when I am grumpy and tired, it is you who help me face the day. I sometimes feel as though you can read my mind. You always seem to know what I want or what I need. Even though we had our struggles in the past, I look back at all the time we’ve been beside each other, and I know I was the lucky one. You inspire and fascinate me, and I walk a little taller just because you walk by my side. You make me very proud of the person, the doctor you have come to become, and I know today is not about that, but I just wish you know how much you mean to me. Every time I hold you, I feel as though I need nothing else. You are my everything now.

I know I haven’t always been far to you, that I hurt you one too many times, and I just want to say sorry for that. I know you’ll say it’s in the past, that you’ve already forgiven me, but the past sometimes, even now, the past comes to haunt me at night. I don’t ever want to lose you again, and I am ready to do whatever it takes for you to be right here, by my side, always.

I wish to see you come home to me every day. I want to smell your hair, sit at the dinner table with you. I want to watch as you make pancakes for me which always make my mouth water (since they are they superior ones). I want to see you slip your arms into the blue sweater I bought you for your birthday, the one you like to wear in the evenings and come read with me every night. I want to see you hold Jenner and watch as you talk to him in the most child-like voice you can manage. I want you to murmur to me softly when my head aches. I want you close to me, more than anything else.

I am not good at this. Putting my feelings into words. And yet, I find myself thinking about how easily you do it. That’s why I write this, hoping that you understand that even though I am not good at it, I want to try, I am willing to try because of you.

I have never been more gleeful than when I am with you. You make me happy. You have changed me for good.

I am very grateful for you.

And I love you, very much.

Yours,

Ethan.

Tears shone in her eyes, unmistakably bright, as she held the letter in her hands before she finally turned to look at him.

‘Ethan…’

He pulled her close, kissing her tenderly as the glisten spread to her cheeks.

‘This is the best gift I’ve ever received,’ she said, as she cried softly.

He pulled away and smiled at her. ‘I believe you had something for me too?’

***

They moved to the couch when it was Alishka’s turn to hand him his gift.

She went to the end table, where she’d kept her bag, and pulled out a book of bound which she had put together over the last few days in her free time. It had been incredibly hard to keep it a secret for so long, but, she was glad she had been successful. Returning to the couch, she handed him the book. Open Heart the gold stamped lettering on the cover read.

‘Open heart?’

‘Yeah. Because you have a open heart, because you are kind to people, mostly your patients,’ she said, remembering their little incident at the vending machine. ‘And because you have opened your heart to love this past year. Or past two years.’

Ethan looked from her to the book and back again, curiosity getting the better of him. Alishka settled next to him as he ran his fingers over the bright letters.

‘I’m almost afraid to see what it is,’ he said.

‘Don’t be. It is nothing you won’t like,’ she urged as he finally opened the book. She’d made a photo album of the two of them that opened with photos of each of them as infants and progressed through their entire lives. On the left handed pages were photos of Ethan; on the right, Alishka. He was sure his dad had helped Alishka in putting this together. As he turned the pages, he slowly watched the both of them grow up in tandem before his eyes.

Eventually the album began to feature the photos of two of them together, some of them sneakily taken (by Trinh, he doubted), but most of them taken by themselves, the camera held at an arm’s length. No matter how formal or casual, however, each photo seemed chosen to tell a story about a particularly meaningful moment in their lives.

The entire album itself, was a testament of their love, and he found himself close to tears.

He couldn’t hold himself back from her love any longer. He pulled her close and kissed her, thinking that this was how it was supposed to be, and this was how he’d keep it, always, forever.

Because he loved her, and he’d never stop loving her.

**********

This is how I always imagine them celebrating Valentine's Day. Nothing too fancy, but just right for the two of them.

Anyway, though, I couldn't love these two more.

And everything was unplanned and only happened because of the request made by Nikh 🙃

Thank you for reading.

Love y'all.

[jjungkookislife]

The Key to My Drawer Ch. 6

pairing: taehyung x reader

genre: bf2l, angst, smut 18+

wc: 2..7k

warnings: cursing, unprotected sex, sex on the beach, hickeys, major miscommunication

date: June 30, 2020

Your alarm goes off early the next morning. Way too early for a Saturday morning, but you wanted to get an early start to your day so you could get back in bed and read more of Taehyung’s letters.

After getting up and ready for the day, you feed Tannie before you take him out on a morning walk.  You text Taehyung to make sure he’s alright after last night. You know how rowdy Jimin and Jungkook can be when they get together with Namjoon, Jin, Hoseok and Yoongi.  Though you’re not surprised that Hoseok is the first out of your friends to get married.

“Come on, Tannie.  Time to go home,” you swear you see him pout before he follows you back to the apartment, immediately going to his water bowl before retreating to his bed to nap.

You make some coffee, it’ll hold you over until lunchtime.  You’re not one to have breakfast so early in the morning, besides, you’re aching to get back to the letters.

I honestly don’t know how I snuck in my journal to write you this letter, but I can just barely see you sitting not too far from me.  Well, I see the back of your head, you’re looking around trying to find me but you haven’t looked over here yet.  I’m sure Jungkook will get your attention shortly, he’s just found one of my letters and won’t shut up about me confessing.

The fact that he hasn’t gone to tell you right now is a miracle, but he’s sitting on the edge of his seat wondering which of his professors would stop him from getting to you.  I threatened to hit him but he’s a brick wall and it wouldn’t end well for me or my hand… so I won’t.  For now.

You look as gorgeous as ever in your cap and gown, I can’t help but stare.  I wonder if you can feel it… oh! You almost saw me; turn a little more my love.  I’m right here.  I know you’re nervous; I am too, but you’ll be fine.  All we have to do is sit through the ceremony and go on stage to get our diplomas.

I can’t believe we made it… I had no doubts that you would but me?  I slacked off more than I should have, but you kept me in line.  My parents are grateful to you. They keep asking when I’ll tell you… I don’t know how they figured it out.  We haven’t been home in a while but my mom smiled and said, “a mother knows.”

They’re up there in the stands, our moms’ sitting together and our dads’ handing them tissues as they plan our wedding.  I wish I was kidding; I caught sight of our moms’ wedding planning book.  It’s actually kind of cute…

A wedding… our wedding.

The thought should terrify me, right?  We’re only twenty-two and a half but the thought isn't terrifying, not to me at least.  I know there’s plenty you want to do before you settle down, and I hope I’m by your side when you do them.

We’re leaving for Europe next week and then after I’m moving into my new apartment and you into yours the week after.   I’m not sure how we each scored places on the same block, but I’m not gonna knock it.  

Your dazzling smile just caught me off guard when I looked up.  You found me; I knew you would.  You waved at me before forming the shape of a heart with your hands.  I love you.

My heart is pounding so hard, and my hands have grown clammy.  Is this what love feels like all the time?  Exhilarating?  I didn’t think love could make me feel like I’m buzzed and yet here we are.

Namjoon just asked me what I’m writing, I told him to mind his business but of course, he doesn’t listen.  He knows now.  He’s smiling like an idiot and singing “I knew it.  I knew it.”

Unlike Jungkook, I know Namjoon can keep a secret, but I know it’s only a matter of time until they all find out.  Jimin says I get heart-eyes when I look at you… 

I thought Jimin was bluffing until he took Jungkook’s camera one day when we were together.  He took a picture of me looking at you from afar.  I think you and Yoongi were talking about what to make for lunch and I looked up to look for you.  It’s not even a conscious decision to look for you, I just feel you’re missing from my side and my immediate reaction is to find you.

I’ll attach the picture to the back of this letter.  I stared at it for so long, trying to prove Jimin wrong, but it’s there.  I wonder if you’ve noticed?

Oh, it’s your turn to go up on stage.  You look nervous, but you’re smiling.  I can see your eyes searching for mine.  I’m here, love. 

You’ve found me, your sigh of relief is obvious as you keep looking back to make sure I’m watching. 

 I better set this down.  

I’m so proud of you, Y/n!  You did it!  You looked so beautiful up on stage, even if you grimaced when our parents screamed your name at the top of their lungs.  I hope you heard me and Jungkook too… 

The ceremony was rather long. After watching you up there, I lost interest.  Namjoon had to jostle me to get me to stand up because I couldn’t stop staring at you.  He said, “come on, Loverboy.  Your girl is waiting for you to cross that stage and graduate.  Make her proud.”

My girl.

You as my girl… nothing sounds sweeter.

I want to make you proud, Yn.  I want to be someone you’re proud to have in your life, whether as a friend or a partner; I want to be everything for you.

The moment we’re free to go after  the ceremony, you come straight to me.  You had Jungkook clear your path, pushing graduates out of your way.  I swear that boy would be a fantastic linebacker.  

“We did it, Tae!” you shouted as you threw yourself in my arms, I stumbled but I caught you, anyway.  You grinned, kissing my cheek before I spun you around.  You giggled, telling me to put you down before you kicked someone.

I set you down and you hugged me tightly before our parents came and joined us.  We took several pictures together and with our parents before we headed out to dinner with them.

You held my hand under the table throughout dinner.  I swear my heart would beat out of my chest from how hard it was beating.  I tried to hide my blushing face, but nothing got past my mom.  She gave me a look before dropping her napkin under the table, grinning from ear to ear when she caught sight of your hand in mine resting on my thigh.

I looked away, but she smiled and rejoined the conversation.  I’m sure she told everyone when we left with Jungkook later that night.

We ended up back at the beach with all our friends, only this time, it wasn’t a loud house party.  It was just the eight of us, just like it used to be back in high school on Saturday nights.  

Everyone drank except for us, we wanted to take care of everyone before they went to bed.  Jimin hung back, winking when he saw us go out the back door, down the stone path that led to the beach.

“Isn’t it funny how we end up here after a major life event?” you asked as you took my hand in yours, pulling me toward the shore.

You didn’t bother wearing shoes this time, you just wanted to let the water touch your feet.  You regretted it the moment you realized it was freezing cold.

“Don’t laugh,” you squealed, looping your arm with mine before we walked away from the shore.  I set the blanket down on the sand, sitting down before pulling you into my lap.

“Isn’t it beautiful, Tae?” you asked.  

“Yeah,” I answered, not taking my eyes off of you.  I’m sure you meant the moon, but nothing can compare to you.  

“We made it, Tae.  We really made it,” you laugh, throwing your head back onto my shoulder.  My grip on your waist tightens. 

We really did.

You turn the letter over, seeing the picture Taehyung was talking about.  Smiling fondly, you had a picture of that day as well.  A picture Jungkook had taken of you looking at Taehyung… he still made fun of you for looking like a love-sick puppy, but you don’t care.  

You remember the night of your graduation, clearly.  You reach out for the next letter, curious to see if he’s written about it as your cheeks heat up.

Y/n… I have no words.

None at all.

And yet…

Fuck, my head is still spinning, Y/n.

I don’t know what any of it means…

I…

I held you in my arms at the beach for a long, long time.  You placed your head on my shoulder, your hands on my chest.  I looked down at you, and you smiled.  I wanted to tell you… I swear I did.

What kind of spell do you put me under, baby?  I lose the ability to speak when you look at me like that.  I couldn’t speak, I could barely breathe and then you kissed me.

Fuck, baby.

I missed the taste of your lips.  I cupped your face, holding you close.  You pushed me back onto the blanket, just like on prom night.  I wasn’t as nervous as that night, but I hadn’t been with anyone since.  I worried I wouldn’t be good enough; I said so.

“I haven’t been with anyone either, Taetae.  Just kiss me, let me take your worries away,” you whispered, holding my face.  Your eyes searched mine for any sign of nervousness, when you found none, you kissed me again.  I swear I melt every time you take the lead.

I lost myself in your kisses, your hands unbuttoning my shirt until you pulled it off my shoulders.  You pulled back to look at me, smiling bashfully.

You bite your lip, looking down before you gripped your shirt and threw it to the side.  I tried not to ogle your chest, but I did anyway.  

“Don’t just stare,” you laughed, pushing my shoulder.  I fell back, chuckling as you climbed over me, your thighs on either side of my hips.  “What’s so funny, Taetae?”

The words got caught in my throat, a groan escaping my lips instead as you ground your hips down on me.  I saw stars, literally, as I looked up into the sky, thanking the gods for you.  You kissed every inch of my skin, tugging my pants off and pining my wrists to the blanket.  I was pliant for you, I would have done anything you asked of me and I did.

I still find myself blushing when I think of that night.  

You sure are something else, baby. 

 Something else…

...you see how easy it is for me to get distracted, love?  Thinking of you that night brings back so many emotions, it’s overwhelming.  You fit so perfectly in my hands.  Your lips on mine, our moans mixing perfectly.

Your fingers laced in my hair, my lips marking your skin in every place I’ve been.  If I close my eyes, I can still see you writhing beneath me, screaming my name as you come undone on the sand.  The waves crashing on the shore, drowning every delicious moan that left your lips.

You were amazing… fuck.

I couldn’t get enough of you, baby.  I can never get enough of you, not now, not ever.  I suppose that’s why we ended up spending the rest of the night on the beach.  You fell asleep in my arms again, dressed in my shirt and curled up in my lap.  I held you delicately, stroking your hair.  I never wanted the moment to end, but as the sun rose and Jimin came to check on us, our little world shattered.

Jimin didn’t say a word, just gave me a look and mouthed, ‘tell her.’  I shook my head, I couldn’t.  I couldn’t tell you… what if it meant nothing to you?  I wouldn’t be able to cope.  Jimin sighed before shaking his head and taking his leave.

You woke up shortly after, shivering in my arms.  I pulled you closer, kissed the top of your head and we remained silent as the sun continued to rise.

I helped you get dressed, and we walked back to the house in silence.

Did it mean something to you?

You’re in tears when you finish reading the letter, setting it aside as you sob into your hands.  Of course that night meant something to you!  How could it not?!

You wanted to tell him so bad.  You wanted to ask him what it meant, but you were met with silence.  You left Taehyung alone for the rest of the day, focusing on hiding your hickeys.  Not that it mattered, Jimin knew, and who knows how many more of your friends.

You wiped your tears. You had also overheard Jimin and Taehyung arguing.  Jimin was trying to keep quiet but he couldn’t help but hiss, “what are you doing with Y/n?”

“Nothing, we’re just friends.  It meant nothing,” Taehyung had hissed back in reply.  That was all you needed to hear before you walked away.  You ended up walking back out to the beach, watching the ocean waves until Yoongi found you.  He didn’t say a word, just sat with you and watched the ocean until it was dinner time.

Jimin cornered me today… 

He asked what last night meant for us… I lied and said nothing.  I wish I hadn’t lied, it’s not like he believed me, anyway.  You disappeared for the rest of the day with Yoongi.  I don’t know if you’re mad at me for last night, but I hope you’re not.

I want to talk to you, but every time I ask what’s wrong; you say nothing.  I don’t think you’ve ever been mad at me… I don’t like it.  I don’t want you to be mad at me, especially since I don’t know why.

Maybe we can talk tonight?

I love you, Y/n.  

Last night doesn’t change that.

Your phone buzzed, a text from Taehyung assuring you he’s safe.  You send him a picture of Tannie and put your phone back down before grabbing another letter.

I talked to Y/n last night…

It didn’t go how I thought it would… not at all.

We were getting ready for bed and I asked if we could talk.  She shrugged.  I knew we were already off to a poor start.

“About last night…”

“Forget it happened, Tae.  I just want to pretend it didn’t happen, okay?  We can forget this, right?”  My heart broke, but I nodded.  If that’s what you wanted, I’d forget.

“Thanks,” you murmured before rolling over to face the wall.  I watched you for a moment, sighing before I left the room.

I ended up at the beach. The waves seemed to taunt me for being alone.  

“You okay?” Jungkook asked as he sat beside me.  I shrugged.

“Jimin told me what happened…”

“Of course he did,” I huffed, annoyed.

“Did you tell her?”  Jungkook grabbed a handful of sand in his palm, tilting it to pour back down before repeating the action.

“She wants to forget about it, Kook.  She just wants to be friends,” I didn’t even feel the tears run down my cheeks until Jungkook pulled me into a hug, wiping my tears away with his shirt.

“I’m sorry, Tae.  We were so sure she loved you…”

“I thought so too,” I sobbed.

“It’ll be okay.  You’ve got us, Tae.  You’ve got us.”

Jungkook stayed with me all night.  I cried until I couldn’t anymore.  Eventually, Jimin came to find us, draping a blanket over us before he sat beside us.

While our friends surrounded me, you were alone in our room crying your eyes out.  Yoongi told me the next morning.  You didn’t mention it and neither did I.  Did you regret it that much, Y/n?  

I’m sorry, love.

I never meant to hurt you...

© jjungkookislife - I do not allow reposts or translations of my work on any platforms, this includes Youtube.

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Blood in the Rivers: II

A/N: A shorter chapter this time, as I’ve been told putting 13.4k into a single chapter is a little overwhelming. My bad! Thank you for all the kind words for chapter one. I hope you all continue to like this story. 

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Ellaria Sand x F!Reader (Tully)

Rating: M for canon typical violence, canon typical sexism, and some soft touching. Sometimes people just need to be cuddled, okay?

Word Count: 4.5k

Read Chapter One Here!

Chapter Two: The Perils of a Royal Wedding

Y/N had been correct. The Lannisters were the ones to note her absence and demand she remain within their sights. It was easy to explain her absence away, she had wanted to partake in the festivities—a wide-eyed look of innocence had them believing it. She danced with Tommen, a happy, skipping thing that had them both giggling to the annoyance of everyone around them. More wine filled her chalice and she wondered if Joffrey had even asked his wife to dance. 

Shouldn’t everyone dance at their own wedding? For now, she watched Tommen dance with his aunt Genna and plied herself with berries.

She noticed Ellaria and Oberyn settle at a table nearer the newly wedded couple and Ellaria, knowing Y/N was looking, fed Oberyn berries, pressing them into his mouth with a smirk that he mirrored as he sucked them from her fingers.

She fidgeted in her chair, a now-familiar stirring in her stomach, and drained the rest of the wine from her chalice, grateful when Tyrion quickly noticed and made sure it was refilled. But it was then that she noticed the guilty look on the dwarf’s face as he looked at her.

“Lord Tyrion, what ails you? Have I done something to offend?”

His smile was weak and he took a large gulp of his own wine. “No, my lady. You have done nothing wrong.” And, even though it was murmured into his cup, she heard him say, “and that is your curse.”

But then Loras appeared at their table again, happy and out of breath, before asking her for another dance. She accepted, throwing a glance toward Tyrion who waved her on, and let Loras lead her back toward the dancing couples. When Oberyn and Ellaria stepped to their sides and the dance was announced, she had to admire the Tyrell’s plan. The dance called for two couples, the pairings would switch frequently, alternating partners and steps, and allowed each of the participants to hold the others close. The dance had originated in Dorne a generation ago, and had once been deemed inappropriate for allowing same-sex dancing partners, but had eventually made its way into polite company. Loras seemed to know how audacious the plan was and beamed with a proud smile when she quirked an eyebrow. Ellaria laughed beside them, seeing the exchange, and Oberyn pulled her close for a kiss but his eyes were on Y/N. The music started Y/N let Loras pull her close for a few steps before they all stepped back and the four joined hands, moving about in a circle for a turn and then the couples changed. Ellaria greedily grabbed at her hands and hauled her close with sparkling eyes, leading her through the steps with ease.

“You know a Dornish dance.”

“I do. This is one of my favorites.”

Ellaria hummed as they turned, skirts twisting together in a wave of orange and yellow. “I shall teach you another.”

Heat curled in her stomach at the implication but she wanted it. Desperately. “I would be a faithful student.”

The music indicated that they rejoin hands and circle again. Loras squeezed her hand when they touched and shook his curls like he was moving them out of his eyes but really drawing her attention to the head table where Tywin and Cersei were staring at them. She squeezed his hand back in thanks and felt the smile she had been wearing die. Another turn with the four of them joined and the next partnering came and Oberyn swept her into his arms like he had done it a thousand times before, pulling her closer than the steps deemed necessary.

“Your bird is thriving,” he whispered in her ear. “Happy.”

Y/N didn’t respond aside from tightening her grip on his hand.

“But she worries for you a great deal.”

“Great reward comes with great risk. She will learn this.”

“Your life is precious. Whatever game you think you are playing, you do not know if you will win.”

He was right. The impending arrangement the Lannisters were planning was hanging over her head and she knew her place as a trusted loyalist could easily be snapped. But she had already entrusted too much with him and Dorne. 

Asking him for more would be selfish.

“I would see you safe.”

“As I would see you, my prince.”

He opened his mouth to say something else when the crescendo of the song started and they were forced to part, retreating back to their original coupling to finish the dance.

“You look troubled, my lady,” Loras whispered.

“I think I am.” The dance ended in Loras’ arms and he started to lead her back toward her table when Tywin Lannister stepped into their path. “My lord, are you enjoying the festivities?” Pressing a smile to her face was easy and she tried to not tighten her grip on Loras’ arm in an attempt for comfort. “I have never seen such splendor.”

Tywin smirked and glanced at Loras before focusing his gaze back on her. “I’m glad you’ve found some enjoyment, Lady Tully. Join me for a dance.” It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t an offer. And when he held out his hand toward her, she knew she would have to take it.

She looked at the hand offered to her and then cast a glance at Oberyn and Ellaria, as they settled at their table. She couldn’t help it. She knew what Oberyn and all of Dorne thought of Tywin Lannister. She wouldn’t add to their betrayal or heartache. Oberyn looked ready to leap from his seat but Ellaria had set a hand over his arm and quickly schooled her features into a forced smile before giving a curt nod.

Y/N mirrored her expression and set her hand in Tywin’s as she stepped away from Loras’ side and let herself be drawn back among the other dancing couples as the music started, slow and soft. It would have been romantic with anyone else. The older man was a graceful dancer, she had to admit, as he led her through the familiar steps of a dance she had learned as a child. He was looking down at her, she knew, as she made the top button of his surcoat her sole focus. She wouldn’t and couldn’t look at him. But his dulled scent of leather and clove was cloying at her nose.

“Do you make it a habit of avoiding eye contact with whomever you dance with?”

Y/N suppressed an eye roll and granted him a single, short look. “I apologize, my lord. I am simply trying to remember the steps so I do not step on your foot.” A simple lie.

“Did you not practice as a child?”

“I did, my lord. Far more than necessary, I assume. But this dance was not a favorite of my septa. I do hope you do not fault me for it.” Another lie.

“Yes,” Tywin said. “I suppose you did have an unusual upbringing.” He stepped back and spun her under his arm just as the other couples did the same. “I could teach you.”

Y/N nearly choked on her next breath and missed a step, her toe colliding with the side of his boot. “M-my lord?”

“You are a young, beautiful, highborn lady. You should know to dance—properly. Not those dances I know they’re fond of in Dorne. Vulgar displays.”

Her throat was tightening, stopping air from moving in or out. “I…I quite like the Dornish dances. I think they’re lovely.”

“Do you know those steps, Lady Tully? Perhaps you could enlighten me to their beauty.” The words had a strange lift to them and his grip tightened on her hand, the other curling around her waist just a fraction more.

“My lord,” she dropped her voice to a whisper to avoid him hearing the tremble she knew was growing, “that is hardly appropriate.”

“It does not have to be inappropriate. You could be Lady of Casterly Rock. You would be more powerful than Margaery and worshipped by all of the Seven Kingdoms.”

Y/N would swear her heart stopped. Was this his plan? Was he suggesting-

“And what of the Riverlands? I thought-”

“Your second son would rule the Riverlands. Your first, however,” he dipped his head closer to her ear, “would be my heir.”

The song ended and everyone else clapped, crowd moving—finding new partners, refilling wine. But Y/N could only pull her hands away from Tywin as her tongue felt like lead in her mouth. “A gracious offer, to be sure.”

“And what is your answer?”

“Lady Tully!” Y/N nearly collapsed as she heard Margaery call out for her.

“Please, excuse me, my lord.” She curtseyed, and then turned toward the head table. There was a strange buzzing between her ears as she made her way through the crowd. She barely gave it a second thought to see the knight-turned-fool Dontos waiting in the bushes as she passed. She curtseyed again in front of Joffrey and Margaery. “Yes, Your Grace?”

The new queen smiled up at her and grasped at her hands. “I-”

There was a sudden, familiar sound behind her, pulling her attention for just a moment before something pinched at her back and chest.

Margaery screamed.

The bolt was protruding from her shoulder like a terrible, blackened limb.  Margaery looked up at her with wide eyes as she felt the metallic tang of blood bubble over her tongue. She touched it—just once—as if not entirely believing she had been shot. The answering, near-crippling shock proved her otherwise. 

There was screaming—so much screaming and she could not discern one word from the other.

Someone called out her name as she doubled over onto her knees. Shaking fingers grasped the silver arrowhead and, with a strangled sort of groan, she pulled the rest of the arrow through, briefly wondering at the strange sensation of the fletching catching on her flesh. Warmth bloomed across her chest. It took her several moments to realize it was blood.

Bloodied palms slapped against the stones beneath her, keeping her from collapsing completely.

“The King!” Someone shouted. “The King!”

There was more screaming, panicked and screeching and turning into a howling cacophony in her swirling mind. She hardly noticed when someone ran to her side and grasped her face with gentle hands, trying to get her to move, to say something, to do anything. Pain grew and blossomed with every frantic beat of her heart but she could do precious little, her limbs feeling like stone. Even her eyes refused to move from where they were trained on the stone, watching, almost disinterestedly the blood start to pool beneath her fingers. 

Someone was pressing at her wound, trying to staunch the bleeding with little success. “Stay with me, stay awake.”

She lifted her head, a labored effort, and could only see the dark eyes staring back at her and then the world turned dark.

                                                        **

Olenna was sitting on the edge of her bed when she woke. The woman’s face was drawn tight with some strange emotion as she stared out into the small patch of sky visible from the chamber windows.

“My lady?” Y/N’s voice caught in her throat, dry and scratching. Pain shot through her body as she tried to lift herself up to sitting.

Olenna turned to face her, a small smile touching her mouth. “Ah, Little Fish. You finally wake.” She walked to the door and called out for the maester before helping Y/N to sit and put another pillow at her back. “Do you need more Milk of the Poppy?”

“What happened, Olenna? Tell me.” The pain was increasing with each beat of her heart but she needed to know—needed to understand.

Olenna sighed and stood straight. “It was never meant to be you, child. I want you to know that.”

“I-I-I don’t understand. And of Joffrey? What-”

The door to her chamber opened and a maester walked in, a small bowl of something in his weathered hands. Without prompting, he held it to Y/N’s lips and forced the viscous liquid into her mouth. The bitter taste was a familiar one—Milk of the Poppy. She coughed and nearly retched with how much he was pushing down her throat but sank into the pillows, mind already swimming, as he finished. “I just have to check your wrappings, my lady. To prevent infection.”

Y/N’s eyes were swimming, unfocused, as she tried to find Olenna again. “Stay,” she said, although her tongue felt too big for her mouth. “Tell me. What happened.”

“You were valiant, my lady,” the maester said as he pulled down the shoulder of her chemise. “But you were not able to save His Grace, King Joffrey. “

Her head lulled to the side on her pillows to find Olenna looking at her almost worriedly. “Dead?”

“Yes, Little Fish. He’s dead.”

“Oh.”

And then darkness swept over her like a raven’s wing.

                                                        **

The realm between dream and waking was a constant companion for the next handful of days, each one swimming into the next without much fanfare in the small haven of her chambers. The only time she had spent out of doors was when she was requested to attend the gathering of nobility for a time of prayer over the body of the slain king, and she could only stand upright for a few minutes before she was allowed to leave. She hardly remembered any of the ceremony. The maester came and went, cleaning her wound and wrappings without much fanfare.    “I need a bath, Daisy,” she murmured. Her feet felt foreign as they touched the stone of the floor of her bedroom. “I can smell myself. It isn’t pleasant.” 

The frazzled form of Daisy quickly set out to have a basin dragged in and filled with near-boiling water. She followed it with floral soaps and then helped her lady undress and slowly lower into the water. Y/N groaned as the water rose around her, already feeling more human. But her head lulled as if it felt too heavy on her neck and the room spun for a moment.

“Is the temperature too hot, my lady?” Daisy asked as she started to soak a cloth in the water.

“It is perfect, Daisy. You are too kind to me.”

Daisy smiled and opened her mouth to reply when there was a knock at the door. Y/N curled her knees up to her chest for a semblance of modesty under the milk-colored water. The knock came again.

“Come back later!” Daisy hollered.

And the door opened.

Daisy screeched and stepped in front of Y/N’s tub to shield her from the intruders, yelling about sending for the guards and Y/N, still hazy from the Poppy, leaned forward just enough to see Prince Oberyn and Ellaria standing in her chambers. A shock of orange was seen in front of the door before it closed. 

“Our guards are standing watch. I assure you that Lady Tully is well protected,” Oberyn said with an easy smile. 

Ellaria draped herself in a nearby chair with a smile of her own. “How are you feeling, my lady?”

“She is indecent,” Daisy nearly growled.

“It is fine, Daisy. They are friends and I cannot bring myself to care at the moment.”

Daisy’s brow furrowed as she turned to look at Y/N. “Do you need water, my lady? Food?” A gentle hand pressed against her cheek, checking her temperature. “If you feel faint I can call the maester again.”

Y/N smiled, knowing it probably looked crooked on her lips, and shook her head. “I am on the mend, Daisy. Thanks to your care. But, I promise you, I am in no danger with them.”

Daisy sighed and nodded. “I shall bring you fresh linens, then, for your bed.”

Y/N thanked her and Daisy quickly stripped the bed before leaving the chambers, leaving her alone with Oberyn and Ellaria.

“They have addled your mind with Milk of the Poppy.” The observation from Oberyn only earned a nod in return. “You will not feel yourself for a while longer.”

Another nod.

Ellaria stood and poked her head out the door, murmuring something to one of the guards before closing it again. She settled near the tub and grabbed the cloths Daisy had soaked and began to slide the cloth along Y/N’s arms and over her uninjured shoulder, the soaped water refreshing and hot. Y/N relaxed under her care and reclined against the back of the tub, uncaring that her breasts were starting to crest the water’s edge.

“You were kept from us for days. Oberyn said you were whisked away during prayers,” Ellaria whispered as she dipped the cloth under the water to wipe against her stomach. “We worried.”

Y/N smiled and moved to press her cheek against the warm lip of the tub. “I am sorry you were worried. I would have let you in, if I had known.”

The cloth slid up her stomach to wipe across her left breast and then the right, taking care to avoid the wrappings hiding her ugly stitches. And Y/N could not help the hitch in her breath as Ellaria seemed to take special care to make sure she was clean. She looked up at her: dark hair loose and lovely, like waves crashing in the dark, and simply watched her as she worked. There, of course, was an undercurrent of something more to it, but perhaps that was just Ellaria. Just who she was and why almost everyone was so taken with her on sight. But she knew Ellaria meant to help, too. To wash away the bitterness of the past few days.

A knock on the door had Ellaria turning toward Oberyn. “Would you answer that, my love?”

Oberyn, the prince, did as he was bid and opened the door only a fraction and spoke softly to whomever was on the other side before being handed something and closing the door again as they left. He carefully unwrapped the linen bundle to reveal a collection of small vials.

“Come,” Ellaria said softly to him, her hands pausing in their ministrations.

“Unlike you, my love, I have not been given permission to hold her as you do. I would not overstep, especially with her in such a state.”

Y/N’s addled mind was coherent enough to understand what he was saying and pivoted just enough to look at him. The entire scenario should have never happened, if she was being honest. Her nakedness had always been something she’d been told was to be avoided, discouraged, even. And now she was in the company of a man she was not married to and a woman who was not her maid—it reeked of scandal if anyone happened upon them. But she couldn’t bring herself care. She lifted an arm from the water and held it out, dripping onto the stone with a steady beat. “You have my permission, my prince. You always have my permission.” She crooked a finger at him before needing to curl a little further into the tub as the room spun.

He smiled and closed the space between them and he settled on the other side of the basin and let Ellaria pull the small collection of vials from his grasp. Y/N watched as Ellaria emptied one and then two of the vials into the water and gently swirl it around. The scent of roses and blood oranges filled her nose and pulled a smile from her tired lips.

“Lean forward for me,” Ellaria softly asked and Y/N did as she was told, nearly jumping as Ellaria poured water over her hair. Something was said to Oberyn as the water distorted her hearing but she didn’t mind.

Y/N closed her eyes as Ellaria began her careful ministrations again and she heard the sound of another vial being uncorked. Another set of hands gently started to massage her scalp and it took her far too long to realize that it was Oberyn. Her hazy eyes opened again to see him smiling as he worked through her hair, filling the room with the scent of more roses, decadent and heady. Again, his touch was gentle and he was careful as he moved her head this way or that so he could make sure he had completed his task. He had rolled the sleeves of his tunic up to his elbows and his outer robe had been discarded, draped across the window seat behind him. The entire situation finally made a giggle fall from her lips. 

“What is so funny?” Oberyn asked with a smile of his own. He cupped his hands and brought a bit of water over her hair, starting to rinse it.

“A prince is washing my hair.” She laughed again and dipped her head back to help him.

“A prince serves his people, my lady.” His voice was soft. “And it is an honor to be of service to you.”

Something bloomed in her chest then, as she looked into his dark eyes and watched him smile. It felt soft and comforting and all-encompassing all at once. It felt, as strange as it was, like home. And when Ellaria pressed a kiss to her rose-scented skin, she knew it wasn’t strange at all.

“Your water grows cold. We must get you dry.”

Before she could even think to try to stand, Oberyn hand plunged his hands into the water and wrapped an arm around her back and the other just below her knees and helped her to her feet outside the bath. And now she had no water nor suds of soap to disguise her nakedness from him. Water slipped down her clean, perfumed skin in rivulets as he held her steady, soaking the ends of his tunic sleeves. His gaze could have wandered. Could have taken in her body as no man has ever done before. But he kept his eyes on hers and remained careful and gentle as Ellaria found her a new chemise and dressing robe and they each helped her dry and into the clean clothes to avoid further injury.

The poppy had continued to retreat, leaving her now in just a comfortable haze and she settled atop the stool in front of her small, mirrored vanity as Ellaria pulled yet another jar from somewhere and opened it to reveal a bit of pink paste she started to massage into Y/N’s hands. “You have both been very kind to me. I do not know what I have done or said to earn such care.”

“You are kind to us. We are kind to our friends.”

“Is that what I am?” She asked with a laugh. “A friend?”

Ellaria set down the jar, finished, and nuzzled her nose under Y/N’s jaw. Careful hands swept around her sides to hold her just under her breasts. “We can be more when you are well again.”

“I feel like I am more to you now. I have never been held so softly.” The words were true and she never would have spoken them if her mind had been entirely clear. But oh, how she reveled in the touch.

Ellaria smiled against the side of her throat. “I would like to hold you for as long as you would let me.” But then she stood straight, touch slowly receding, and looked at Oberyn with a playful smile. “Come, my love. She is soft to touch. You have been wanting to hold her since her third letter arrived.”

Oberyn chuckled. “It was her first, actually.” He stepped closer. “That first curl of ink had pulled me into its depths and I knew I’d never be able to recover.” And soon he was at her back. He leaned down and pressed his lips to the small bit of skin exposed where her neck met her uninjured shoulder. Y/N shivered and he trailed his fingers down her back. “You have bewitched me, my lady.”

Y/N could only smile up at him in the reflection of her mirror.

His hand curled under her chin and he tilted her face up so he could look at her properly. Dark eyes seemed to drink in her soft, tired features before he slowly, ever so slowly, leaned down to press his lips to hers. It was soft and gentle and still curled her toes into the silk rug beneath her feet. The simple touch left her panting as he pulled back. His thumb pressed against her bottom lip and he smiled again. “I knew you would taste sweet.”

There was a rapid knocking at the door and Ellaria pulled it open, letting a flustered Daisy in, her arms laden with clean linens for the bed. “The Dornishmen guarding the door are quite scary, you know,” she murmured, casting a glance at Oberyn before hurrying to the bed to start her task.

“They are for her protection.”

“Yes, but I am her maid, Prince Oberyn.”

“Daisy,” Y/N managed to say, her mind buzzing for more than one reason. “Please.”

Daisy huffed and shook her head but said nothing else, pulling the linens a little tighter than necessary across the featherbed.

“We must go,” Ellaria said as she stepped to Y/N’s side again and pressed a slow kiss to the side of her mouth. “When you are able, tell one of the men at the door. They will lead you to us.”

“Must you leave?” Y/N asked. She reached out to grasp one of Ellaria’s hands but stopped as pain racked her body, pulling at the wound in her shoulder.

“We have been far too selfish with you today already. You need rest. True rest without the Poppy pulling you into darkness. We are not leaving the capital until this is finished.”

She should have asked what they meant. What they needed to finish. But Oberyn had pulled a silk scarf, black and stitched with yellow suns, from the folds of his robe and he gently tied it about her neck and then slipped her arm into it. “This will keep you still, help you to heal.”

The scarf smelled like him, of spice and sandalwood and warmth. Y/N stood and curtseyed, a little off balance with the sling, but Oberyn bowed just the same before taking her other hand and pressing a kiss to the pads of her fingers, taking a deep breath in through his nose to fill his lungs with her scent.

“Until we meet again, my lady.”

A/N: Well, there’s part two. There is a plot developing. I am thinking this entire story will be about eight chapters. What do you all think? I’d love to hear what you’d like to see, and what you hope happens. Thank you for reading. Also, if you’d like to be tagged, I’d be happy to do so. I’ve never done it before but I’d be happy to try! xx

[noona-clock]

The Bartender - Part 4

Genre: Bartender!AU

Pairing: Jinhwan x You (Female!Reader)

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 | Words: 2,294

You weren’t usually the type to be that nervous about going on a date. Even though you did tend to overthink things, for some reason, going on dates was not one of those things.

I mean, if you really think about it, it was just hanging out with someone. Spending time with someone to see if you were romantically compatible. Not a big deal, really.

But when Jinhwan sent you a text message on Sunday morning with a location and ‘Meet me there at 11?’...

You were nervous.

You still replied back that you would be there at 11 on the dot, but you were nervous about it.

Probably it wasn’t actually nerves, though. It was most likely leftover embarrassment, and you were just slightly dreading seeing him.

But it would be fine. You would get over it.

Hopefully.

When you clicked on the location after he’d sent it, your eyebrows raised in slight surprise when you saw the map was one of a nearby beach. A very small beach with a quaint pier, one you didn’t visit nearly as much as you should.

And you knew at least one restaurant at the pier had received a 100 on their last health inspection, so Jinhwan had stayed true to his word -- a quality you greatly desired in a partner.

So, score one for him.

If you added the score he had previously earned for being so cute, he now had about a 26. Out of what, you had no idea, but he definitely had a 26 for the time being.

At around 10 AM, you started getting ready. Since the weather was pretty warm but the beach could get fairly windy, you opted for a pair of cotton shorts and a striped blouse. You also chose makeup packed with SPF, but you didn’t forget to throw a tube of sunscreen into your bag, either.

And then, once you were all dolled up and ready to go... you went.

As you drove toward the beach, you realized that you were incredibly grateful he had chosen a time fairly early in the day to meet up; if you’d had to wait several more hours before seeing him after that disaster of a Friday night, you probably would’ve made yourself sick. Your stomach was already in knots, and it would’ve been so much worse later on.

Thankfully, you saw Jinhwan sitting on a bench near the parking spots as soon as you pulled in. Just like you were glad you hadn’t had to wait until later to see him, you were now glad you didn’t have to wait for him to arrive. You would really rather just get this over with!

...I mean, not the date. Just the awkwardness of seeing him in person after you’d kissed him like that.

You were... actually... kind of looking forward to the date.

Jinhwan stood from the bench once he realized you were the one driving the car pulling in, and a smile curved his lips when you opened the door and got out.

“Hi,” he greeted as soon as you approached. His hands were casually in his pockets, but his smile gave away that he felt anything but casual about seeing you.

Maybe he could pretend to be casual about it, but you certainly could not. It would eat away at you if you simply pretended like nothing had happened. Your two options were to either avoid seeing Jinhwan altogether or to get it all out in the open, and since you were already on a date with him, you had to opt for the latter.

“Listen,” you began, your voice soft but urgent. “I wasn’t lying when I said I’ve never... kissed anyone like that before. I really haven’t, and I don’t know what came over me. It wasn’t the alcohol, but that was definitely not typical Y/N behavior. I’m really, truly sorry, and I don’t plan on doing anything like that again.”

As you’d spoken, Jinhwan’s smile had transformed into a smirk, and he’d taken a step or two closer to you.

“You don’t?” he asked when you’d finished.

You shook your head.

“That’s too bad,” he chuckled. “I was hoping you’d do something like that again today. And, really, I can’t blame you at all. You shouldn’t be too hard on yourself, either. I’m pretty hard to resist.”

“Wow,” you laughed, raising your eyebrows at him. “So, the whole flirtatious thing is just who you are, then.”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Good to know,” you nodded. It was hard to keep the amusement from your face, though, and your grin became even more obvious when Jinhwan winked at you.

“Don’t worry, though. I’m very capable of being a one-woman flirter.”

“Thank god. My biggest worry laid to rest.”

Jinhwan’s sly smirk quickly morphed into a full-on smile, and he laughed softly at you before reaching to take your hand. “Come on,” he chuckled.

“Where are we going?” you asked, your heart doing a little skip when you slipped your hand into his.

“...The beach.” He gestured in front of you and shot you a look like you were a little bit crazy. You’d met him at a beach -- where else would you be going?”

“I know that,” you laughed. “But where? What are we doing?”

Jinhwan pulled you a little closer and pointed at two unattended towels spread on the sand. “You see those?”

“Yes. I have very good eyesight.”

With his brows raised, he turned to you and said, “Those are for us. We’re going to sit on them.”

“...And... do what?”

“Talk.”

“Talk?”

He nodded and gently pulled you toward the beach. “You asked me how I could like someone I barely know, so I want to get to know you. I want you to get to know me.”

Actually... you liked the sound of that.

“And then when we get hungry, we’re going to the pier to get sushi,” he added, smirking at you over his shoulder.

It goes without saying, the sushi restaurant at the pier was one which had received full marks on their health inspection, so you shot him a grin in return.

Even though you’d already given him a score for keeping his word -- just taking you to the pier where at least one restaurant was up to your standards was enough -- you decided to give him another for actually choosing a specific restaurant which fit the bill. So, he was up to 27 now.

Or maybe you should round it out to 30 since he had arrived before you. He’d even set everything up already!

So, yeah. He was definitely at a 30 now.

Once the two of you reached the beach towels he’d laid out, Jinhwan helped you sit down and made sure you were comfortable before sitting down next to you.

And then you just talked.

Normally, you weren’t someone who loved to talk. You preferred to have more deep conversations, and you couldn’t really do that with someone you didn’t know well and weren’t fully comfortable with.

But, somehow, Jinhwan was different.

You started by telling him your life story -- what it had been like growing up, your family, how you’d gotten on the path to working for the city and becoming a health inspector. He told you his, in turn, and you listened intently as he explained his journey with owning a bar.

It was so fascinating -- so interesting and so weird -- to hear about two totally different lives that eventually met up with each other.

After what felt like only ten or fifteen minutes, your stomach began to alert you that it was time to eat. You asked Jinhwan what time it was, and after glancing at his watch, he told you it was half past noon.

Your eyes widened when you realized the two of you had been talking for an hour and a half.

And, you had to admit, you were hesitant to leave. Your conversation had been more than pleasant, and your surroundings currently were so peaceful: the lulling sound of the waves nearby, the warm sun, the somewhat distant sound of seagulls, the smell of ocean salt in the air.

But your stomach was empty, and a plate of sushi was too tempting to stay away from any longer.

When you suggested getting some food, Jinhwan helped you up before collecting the beach towels, shaking out the sand, and folding them up. The pier was close enough to walk, and he took your hand once more as the two of you began to head over to the restaurant.

“I like you like this,” he said after about a minute of comfortable silence.

“Like what?” you asked with a lopsided grin.

“Casual. Comfortable. Not in my bar.”

You laughed softly, and Jinhwan continued, “Don’t get me wrong, I like seeing you while you work. And I like seeing you in my bar. It’s very sexy. But I realized I haven’t ever seen you outside of the bar, and... I like it.”

A warmth spread over your cheeks, and you nodded at him. “I like it, too,” you admitted.

And for those comments, you added another five to his score.

So far, this was shaping up to be a pretty perfect date. You’d had your doubts, to be quite honest, but just sitting and talking on the beach had been wonderful. And now a nice walk to a sushi restaurant? At this point, your lunch could be just mediocre, and you would still label this as the best date you’d ever been on.

In fact, you were pretty sure --

Your thoughts were interrupted by a very loud squawk. You jumped a little, startled by the sudden noise, and before you could look up to see the intruding seagull... you felt something warm and wet land on top of your head.

...Oh. My. God.

You froze, your heart pausing momentarily as you felt whatever it was (yes, you knew exactly what it was, you just didn’t want to admit it yet) start dripping down your hair and onto your shoulder.

“Oh... shit,” Jinhwan said, his eyes wide as he stopped walking and turned to look at you.

“Yeah,” you breathed. “...Literally.”

You truly -- truly -- could not believe that a seagull had just pooped right on top of your head.

You didn’t know whether you wanted to cry with shame or with disgust.

Or both.

Probably both.

When you glanced at Jinhwan, you could tell he was trying not to laugh. And, if you were in his shoes, you knew you would be doing the same thing.

Because objectively speaking, a bird pooping on your date’s head was funny.

But not when it was you.

“Jinhwan!” you whined, closing your eyes so you couldn’t see his face. Hearing him would be bad enough. “It’s not funny!”

“Well,” he sputtered. “It kind of is.”

“It’s not!” But even you could hear the laughter in your voice.

“Here, there’s a water fountain up ahead,” Jinhwan chuckled. “Come on.”

He squeezed your hand and led you up to the sidewalk by the pier, your body barely moving so nothing from your hair could drip down onto your shoulders any more than it already had.. He stopped in front of the water fountain and murmured for you to bend over so your head was under the drinking faucet.

Oh, god, this was humiliating.

Once you positioned your head in the bowl of the water fountain, Jinhwan turned on the faucet, and the cold water began to stream down your hair. You let out a gasp, a shiver running down your spine at the shocking temperature.

But then you felt Jinhwan’s fingers combing through your hair and another type of shiver ran down your spine.

“Okay, you’re right, this is disgusting,” he laughed. “But I was also right because it is funny.”

“You’re not the one with ice water pouring over your head!” you cried, and you quickly closed your eyes when you saw streams of bird poop landing in the water fountain.

“But I am the one touching it,” he retorted. “The cold water and the poop.”

...That was true.

After about a minute, Jinhwan sighed and said, “I think I got it all.” He turned off the water and gently squeezed your hair to get the excess water out.

“Do I still have some on my shirt?” you asked, too afraid to look yourself.

“Yeah, hold on.”

A few moments later, you felt him wiping your shoulder with one of the beach towels. He then nudged you a little, and when you shuffled a few steps away from the fountain, he got another corner of the towel wet and wiped at your shirt some more.

“There,” he said with a nod as he examined you. “Poop-free.”

You had to laugh at that, though you did feel your cheeks burning with embarrassment. “Oh, my god,” you sighed. “I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, it’s not your fault,” he grinned. “Though... are you still up for some sushi?”

You were glad he brought it up because now that you thought about it...

“Actually, there’s a very delicious pizza parlor right next to the sushi restaurant.”

“Sounds perfect.”

Jinhwan ran to take the towels back to his car, and as you stood there waiting, combing your fingers through your hair and hoping it would dry at last halfway decently, you added another two hundred points to his score.

A guy who would rinse bird poop out of your hair? On the first date? And not even complain? And he still wanted to eat lunch with you?

You were actually starting to kick yourself for not agreeing to go out with him sooner.

Part 5

[iwriteforthetincanman]

Mandoctober Day 14: Helmet

A/N: brought to you by angst, depression, a small hot chocolate, the tense feeling in my shoulders as I’m typing this and of course the source of almost all of my writing: the mixture of insomnia and a f**ked up sleep schedule.

p.s. I am trying to take care of myself, October is just a tough time of the year for me and Mandoctober is helping me cope. I refuse to give up any possibly writings/drawings at this point.

Also this is loosely based off of headcannons from @dindjarindiaries​ blog and this is for @leo-moon​ ‘s Mandoctober!

TW: mentions of abuse (both descriptive, non-descriptive, mental, emotional and physical but only for a two, three paragraphs) Refusal to eat or sleep (Din refuses to do these things for two seconds and Reader isn’t granted them) minor character death, themes of slavery (NOT RACE SPECIFIED) (not a trigger warning) pronouns of a gender neutral partner and of course, lastly, hurt/comfort and fluff. (Also personally because I wrote this and I can shout it into the void, I’m gender fluid with she/her pronouns so I’d like to imagine reader is too, BUT THAT’S JUST ME SO IMAGINE THIS HOWEVER YOU WANT, once again requests are open for any sexuality/gender, as long as you give me brief description of what you want, nothing NSFW)

Time. Aboard the Razor Crest with no specific moon, sun or stars to guide you, time easily became irrelevant. What you learned very quickly was that with this discovery, you realized Din knew that too. 

Or it had gotten to a point where he learnt it a long time ago and just...forgot all about it.

Sometimes he would just sit there in the pilot’s seat, without even doing anything and he would just stare into oblivion. You wondered if his eyesight was okay. Now that you think about it...when was the last time he ate something? Does he ever take that helmet off?

“Din? Are you okay?” For a moment you thought he might be asleep. 

“Sorry...did you say something?” Okay, now you knew he at least needed some sleep. 

“Come on tin can. You need some brain food and maybe even an ‘extended nap’.” You joked.

“Isn’t that just called sleeping?” You couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not...or if that helmet was squeezing his brain too.

“Come on!” Grabbing his hand unexpectedly, Din flinched a little before you dragged him to his feet. 

“I-I can’t.” This admission had you stopping in your tracks as you reached the hull. 

“Is...everything okay?” You were concerned before but now you were starting to think he was hiding a wound from you. He’s done it before. Waiting until you were asleep to tend to it so you wouldn’t worry. Little did he know you had been wide awake with worry for a while and could hear him hurting himself with that blasted cauterizer. 

It was understandable that as a Mandalorian medical supplies weren’t cheap. Even with all the bounties Din brought in, currency rates were going up around the universe. It was difficult to keep up with. Which is why you never broached the subject with him.

It wasn’t your place to pry. 

Not with him anyway...he was silent, reserved, it was like he didn’t trust you. Yet you of all people understood that, you understood that it took you a long time to trust him. Like really trust him with your life...rather than just your role to him as the child’s ‘caretaker’.

It blind sided you when you realized how deeply you cared for him...Mando. 

Gods, you didn’t even know his own name.

“My creed. I can’t...eat in front of other people.” This was a touchy subject. You knew that. But you underestimated how stressed out he really was. He wasn’t wounded...he was just bone tired.

“Well, I can make some food-”

“DON’T YOU UNDERSTAND? I DON’T NEED YOUR HELP!”

“...ok.”

He hadn’t seethed the words out from his teeth as loud as you had heard them.

But...the look on your face as your eyes met the floor, undoubtedly filling with tears.

It cut Din deeper than any vibroblade could.

---

“I don’t know what to do Ad’ika. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I can’t dream without thinking of her. And now...now I’ve gone and done the worst thing I could ever do to her...I hurt her without even touching her.” 

The sigh was small before it reached a crescendo out of his lungs, erupting out of his head like it was a volcano. That was what it felt like to breath again. When he was alone Mando had the freedom to take his helmet off on the Crest as much as he wanted. As long as he was in space, his privacy was unlimited. 

But that all changed when he met the child and then eventually...you. 

“I just wish...I knew more about her. Knew her likes and dislikes. Knew what her favorite food was. What makes her laugh...her favorite kind of music…I’ve gone and ruined everything haven’t I? Not just for me but for you too. I can’t just let her go...and if she does leave I can’t just hire someone new. She’s...really burrowed her way into my heart, little one.” 

Din’s soliloquy fell into the little creature’s ears like a fly trap. The child knew his father was hurting, he could feel it, not just in the force but in his tiny little heart. It was the kind of hurt he couldn’t fix with his own hands...he had to find another way. He had to make his buir feel whole again. 

Determined, the little creature climbed onto his father’s chest as his breathing started to relax. 

“Ad’ika, I’m not in the mood for games right now…” The dark circles under Din’s eyes became more and more pronounced as the hours dragged on. The good thing about being a father now meant that he had someone to talk to at any time if the baby was also struggling to sleep. 

Din never thought he would become a father. He thought a lot of things wouldn’t happen before he died a warrior’s death. He definitely thought he wasn’t going to fall in love too...but that happened before he could even think about it. 

Multiple chirps and coos echoed from the child’s lips as Din continued to massage his temples. 

“Ad’ika did you not hear me?”

Opening his eyes, Din found himself utterly and completely alone. 

“Ad’ika!” Startling upwards, he launched himself onto his bear feet as he searched the dark air around him for either you or the child. 

“Y/N!” Screaming your name into the void he began to run, not caring about his bare feet, his sleep wear or the fact his helmet was completely missing. 

A fact that had not gone unnoticed by the child.

---

Abruptly, Din was launched into the scorching blazes of a desert sun. 

The sand hurt as he fell down the dune he wasn’t gonna lie. 

But in some weird, twisted way, it felt good to feel the sand under his skin. 

“Girl! You get back here! Wretched creature!!” The sudden yelling came from a small village not too far away from where Din stood. Flinching, he hid behind the sand. He felt naked without the beskar. It was almost embarrassing how scared he was right now.

Peering over the sandy hill, he saw a young child with Y/H/C hair, rosy cheeks and bare feet run straight towards him. Not considering the strange events that had occurred before this, Din, although he’d never admit it, attempted to run away from her. Except, when she caught up to him, she ran right through him.

Din couldn’t decide whether this was some wicked form of a dream or that he had died and was now wandering the nearest planet.

Oh Maker, what if he was dead? There was no way you could pilot the Crest on your own...and what about Ad’ika.

That was when he heard it, the baby cooing in his head. 

“Ad’ika?”

That’s when it clicked. He wasn’t in some hellish figment of his imagination or dead…the child had used his powers to do this since he wasn’t wearing his helmet. But then again...where the hell was he?

“Y/N! YOU UGLY THING! IF YOU DON’T GET BACK HERE I WILL THROTTLE YOU!”

Whipping around to face you, all Din was met with was the familiar sight of you hunched over yourself, right near his feet. Crying. This had happened before but…not like this.

Was this...one of your memories? 

Oh no...Din was in your head. Somehow, the baby had managed it.

“I DON’T WANT TO GO BACK THERE! AND YOU CAN’T MAKE ME!” Din turned back to face the furious woman, she looked like a cursed school teacher, her hair flying all over the place. But what stood out to him were the nail marks on her cheek. 

He couldn’t picture it but somehow this woman had distressed you so much you had decided to hit her. The next thing that happened confirmed it…

SLAP!

“YOU EVER HIT ME LIKE THAT AGAIN GIRL I WON’T BE AS CONSIDERATE TO KEEP YOU!”

Keep you? Oh...you weren’t a school child.

You were a slave.

That’s why when you had first met you had been so skittish, so fearful...and yet so brave. 

Somehow it all made sense.

Din couldn’t help reaching out for you as your head sagged on your shoulders, a purple and pink mark blossoming across the side of your face as the evil woman clawed her hand around your wrist. 

“You will make my children their supper and you will go straight into the cellar with no dinner. Do you understand me child?” She spoke with a gentle tone...yet the venom dripped from it with the force of a thousand sandcrawlers. 

“...Yes Ma’am.” 

Your submission startled Din. Then again, you were only a child, and if Din hadn’t been taken in by the Mandalorians at your age...who knows what could’ve happened to him. From what little he had heard about of slaves...they didn’t often make it to see their teenage years. 

Yet, somehow you did. 

Din couldn’t help being grateful that, from what he could see of you, those were the only things that cruel woman had done to you. 

---

Stumbling into a new landscape, Din shook his head in an attempt to gain his bearings. 

“Look Y/N, it’ll be a quick job, all you have to do is listen to what I say and we’ll be gone as soon as you can say ‘bantha fodder’.” 

This was a new voice. A teenager from what Din could guess. They spoke in a kind tone but at the sound of the way they said your name he couldn’t help the feeling of jealousy welling up in him. 

Shaking his head once again, he looking around the jungle planet to spot you and this person.

“Iarren...I don’t know about this. I know we’ve done stuff like this before but we’re not resistance fighters. Those are imperial troops. What if...what if one of us doesn’t come back from this?” 

A much older version of you appeared like a vision from behind the leaves. You were much older now, Din could only guess that you had only just recently come of age. You had grown into your features well. He could see more of the fierce woman he had come to know. 

“Babe, you worry too much. Imps are stupid, plus what we are after is right next to the door practically. If you’re so concerned you can cover me from here and I’ll be right back to kiss your worries away...alright?” Din could tell just by the way you shared a glance that you were absolutely taken with this person. 

In a way Din respected them...but in the back of his mind he knew there was a reason he was seeing this particular memory. Bracing himself, he could only watch as you shared a tender kiss with your lover. It shocked him how passionate you were with them. Gripping them like a vice as if you knew what was about to happen. 

Din’s heart broke for you as he watched you sob over their corpse later that very night. 

---

“Cyare?” 

Din thought he had finally made it back to you just by looking upon your face. Much older now, age similar to the one when he met you. Looking around, he realized...this was that exact moment. 

“Excuse me.” 

Now Din knew for certain he wasn’t dreaming...there was no way he could dream about himself in this much detail. It was like having an out of body experience...in a way he was.

“Can I help you?” The first thing Din noticed about you was that you were too kind to have been on a planet as rough as Andos. Imps were everywhere nowadays and it was the one time Din had to wear a proper cloak so no one could spot him. 

“I need to hire someone to help me with a child. I was wondering if you could help me find a person that is trustworthy?” Being a Mandalorian was so difficult that day. Meeting you made him realize that you were kind enough to suggest yourself, admitting that you were tired of the constant trail of dead bodies this planet had shown you. He flinched when you mentioned the blood you found leaking through your front door one morning. 

He accepted your offer immediately. Offering payment for a job you had been doing for years without none. 

Din had no clue he had saved you from slavery for the second time in your life. 

---

Waking up in a cold sweat, Din knew this was reality. 

All your memories, it felt like a dream. 

That’s when he felt his son sag against his chest, heaving long tired breaths. 

Din was scared he had over exerted himself. 

“Ad’ika...why did you do that?” 

All the child could do was reach for his father’s face, bringing it towards his own. 

“Da.” This one, simple word, brought Din’s walls crumbling to the ground as he began to cry. 

“Thank you...Ni kar’tayli gar darasuum Ad’ika.”

The overwhelming joy he felt caused his thoughts about you to skyrocket. He knew he had to share this information with you. 

Startling from his bed, Din shot out of his room with the sleepy child tucked against his vest clad chest. 

“Y/N! Cyare come quick!” 

The sound of his unmodulated voice scared you more than anything else he had said to you that night. What you didn’t expect when you opened the door was to find a complete stranger shouting your name. 

“WHO ARE YOU? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH DIN?!” You practically screamed, ready to throw hands with this strange practically half naked man that had appeared before you.

That’s what you spotted the child in his arms, half asleep and staring admiringly up at the man. 

“...He called me da. I...had to share that with you Cyare...I didn’t even think twice about my creed.” The watery smile he gave you was enough to convince you that the man before you was none other than Din Djarin himself. 

“...just like that? You...you threw away your creed, being a Mandalorian...just so you could tell me he spoke his first word?” Din thought you were upset, in a way you were. 

When he turned to find your eyes filled with the happiest of tears he had ever seen, the overwhelming urge to kiss you kept slamming into his head, bleeding through his heart. 

“Cyare...Father���s always share the first word their child speaks with their Mother.” 

When you began to sob, Din refused to hold himself back as he curled his fingers through your hair, cradling your son between the two of you as he tilted your head back. 

As his lips brushed against yours for the first time…

You both had never felt so free.

[nitefise-art]

CAPS ANON HERE!! HAVE U GOT ANY HCS FOR ANY CHARACTERS?? 👉👈👀 AM CURIOUS .... .. ....

Yeah! I did this comic here about how I hc Nanu became a kahuna. Tbh I’ve been meaning to draw a follow-up as well, but I don’t think I’ll have the time or mind for it anymore (except this one scene I sketched) so I might as well just write it here.

–

Most of the inauguration ceremony passed in a blur. Speech after speech made by unfamiliar faces in unfamiliar tongues. Nanu vaguely acknowledged the various congratulations thrown his way, until the thudding of the tympanis all got too loud, and the firelight flickering between the dancing bodies too bright, as if the whole island was contained in a single chamber with him stuck in its centre.

He hoped Hala hadn’t noticed when he slipped away. He felt his breathing slow and his pulse quieten as he made his way through the bushes and down the beach, the rah-rah of the party (and by now it was a party) suddenly a world away. The moon so full and round only a few nights ago was waning now. Nanu blinked and almost thought he could see the face of his old partner, the oval in the sky shining down on him with the faintest of yellow glows like the gemstone on the head of a Weavile. He wondered briefly what she was doing now. Right at that moment. Was she happy? What was her new trainer like? And did she ever think about him, as he did her, every now and again when the world got too quiet?

Nanu leaned back, resting his palms in the sand, only to wince as something pointed dug into the back of his hand. He had forgotten about the Z-Ring. It glinted in the dim light, its surface now polished smooth compared to the hunk of rock it had been before. A gift from the gods, Hala had told him. To be treasured. A sign of a bond as true as there ever was between human and pokemon. What a joke. He didn’t even have a team anymore.

Nanu stilled at the rustling of leaves behind him, followed shortly by the faint slap of sandals.

“Ah, there you are!”

Nanu took a deep breath through his nose.

“What are you doing all the way down here? This is your night!” Hala clapped a hand on Nanu’s back. “Everyone is here to celebrate your new appointment! Enjoy it!”

“I didn’t ask for a celebration.”

“Oh, come, don’t be like that. A lot of people have been waiting a long time for this day.”

If Hala saw Nanu roll his eyes, he pretended not to.

“It would not be appropriate to turn our backs on the Tapu. Can't you at least show a little gratefulness?”

Nanu scoffed.

“For what?”

Hala’s eyes almost opened.

“‘For what’? For–” Hala gestured at Nanu’s wrist. “For this!”

“Well I didn’t ask for this either!”

Silence hung in the air. Each kahuna glared the other down, until the snapping of a twig turned both their attentions to the unannounced visitor standing between the leaves. She was only a small child, about five, if Nanu had to guess. She stared at them, frozen, wide-eyed and mid-step, a deerling in the headlights.

Hala sighed, though not without shooting Nanu an accusatory look. As if it was his fault some kid decided to come eavesdropping.

“Now, Acerola, you know you should not be wandering about alone. Your mother will be worried. Come.”

Nanu shoved his hands in his pockets and scowled when those bright, pale eyes lingered too long on his, before they disappeared behind a shock of purple hair. Hala watched as her soft footsteps pattered away into the shadows.

“You are right, of course, in a way.”

He continued when Nanu did not respond.

“Kahunaship is not bestowed upon all those who seek it. As guardians of these islands, we are chosen to maintain the relationships we enjoy with pokemon, with the people we love, and with the land that has provided us with abundance and will for many centuries to come.”

A chill ran down Nanu’s spine, despite the stillness of the air. He could no longer hear the drums beyond the bushes.

“That is a duty we carry for the remainder of our lives. But it is precisely the nature of that duty that makes it both a burden, and a gift.”

And then Hala, too, retreated back up the island, too distant to hear Nanu whisper to the stars.

That’s what I’m afraid of.

[queerchoicesblog]

The Rose-fingered Dawn

The wlw miniseries writing project continues with the continuation of the story set in Ancient Greece as suggested by @jackievarma. 

I have always found the conventional epithet Homer gave to Dawn, rose-fingered (rhododaktylos) utterly poetic: I still remember it even if my high school days are long gone. That's why I decided to use it in this chapter of the story. Also, aoidos was the term used for itinerary oral epic poets.

Next update on Monday. Hope you enjoy it!

Previous part: The Thiasus

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

From that day on I did my best to avoid her as much as possible. The morning after, I told my teacher I didn't want to perform anymore. I would have rather wait as the other new girls. I didn't mention the real problem was that I didn't want to perform with Kleanthis specifically anymore. She was quite surprised by my plea but obliged. I devoted myself to my studies with renewed vigour and kept away from the girl at any given occasion. It was rather hard because Kleanthis was unsurprisingly popular at the thiasus but I succeeded, somehow.

For some time, at least.

Several moons had brightened the night sky and my first year on the island was coming to an end. I woke up earlier than usual that morning so I went out for a walk. My feet led me to the beach where I rehearsed the hymn to Hera. A gentle breeze blew from the sea and the sky was blushing in pink for the arrival of its lover, the Sun. I walked closer to the water's edge and allowed myself to have my feet tenderly stroked by the waves. The dawn there was so different from the one I admired on the roof of my parents' house in Athens. The light was so much brighter on the island.

My contemplation of the sky marvel was abruptly interrupted by a voice.

"Long time no see, Athenian"

It startled me. I turned immediately full knowing to whom it belonged. Kleanthis was looking at me from afar, her head cocked to the side and arms crossed. Not knowing what to do, I greeted her: ignoring her would have been pointless since, for the time since I decided to steer away from her, I had nowhere to run. She approached, her usual semi-serious smile on her lips. I couldn't get why she was always so amused by me.

"Enjoying the dawn?" she asked as she proceeded.

When she reached the shore too, she kept her distance but added:

"For your information, I claimed this spot first"

"What do you mean?" I asked, confused and annoyed.

So she explained that she made a habit to come here early at dawn before the day started to breathe. Yes, she used that phrasing: breathe in the quiet of this land. It reminded her of her island, Samos, even if now Lesbos was her home. I listened to her and noted to myself how displeased I was to find it quite poetic.

I kept my eyes fixed to the sea but I could feel her staring at me.

"I'm surprised you stayed"

I turned towards her and found her giving me a curious look. I asked how I could possibly surprise her so much. She barked laughter then looked back to the sea in front of us.

"You've been avoiding me, Athenian, and you know it"

"I'm not"

"Liar"

The boldness of her statement caused my cheeks to burn. She was right obviously but I refused to admit it. I hated the bitter smirk on her lips when she met my gaze.

"How dare you?" I hissed.

"Everyone fights for my attention yet you run away at the sight of me as if I was the Gorgon and a single glare from me could turn you into stone. See? I'm looking at you now and you're safe so relax, Athenian"

The way she mocked me and kept calling me 'Athenian' instead of using my name made me furious but I kept quiet. I wasn't as quick as her with witty retorts.

"Either I wronged you or you despise me. Now, since I can't conceive what I could have done to wrong you, I concluded that it's the latter"

I didn't answer so she spoke again.

"May I know why?"

I shut my lips before denying that I despise her.

"Lies, lies again" she sighed.

"Stop it! I'm no liar, I don't despise you"

"If anything, I should be the one despising you" she said after a moment.

"Ah, how come? What did I do to you now?"

"You've been here for what? a year yet you are better than most. Already. It took me years and hard work to be like I am now. To sing like you did when we performed. Years and you did it, effortlessly as if you've been doing that your whole life! You...you have the voice of a goddess while I-"

"I'm sure your adoring fans say the same about you. How can you despise someone like me when you have girls kissing the land where you walk? Isn't such adoration enough for you?"

My words slipped out of my mouth before I could think them through. They rang sharper than I meant them to be and left Kleanthis gaping for a moment.

"Are you...jealous? Of me?" she asked, furrowing her brows.

But I couldn't stand her presence any longer.

"I'm not but I'm late for my morning class. Oh, and by the way, you missed your dawn. Me too, thanks to you" I say pointing at the horizon where the sun was now taking the stage.

Then I stormed off, away from her and the sea.

I resumed ignoring her but it didn't last long this time. I have no recollection how many days had passed since our bickering but one night as I laid in bed to sleep I found a note under my pillow. It wasn't signed but I knew the author was her.

'Meet me at the beach at dawn I'll refrain my sharp tongue and won't disturb you this time Depriving someone of a rose-fingered dawn is a crime And - alas!- I'm guilty'

I definitely wasn't expecting any of it. Neither to receive an invitation from her and her choice of words: maybe with a bit of luck and hard work, she could have made a female Homer one day.

I went down to the beach the morning after and she was there. True to her word, she kept quiet and we just sat in silence enjoying the everyday wonder of dawn. 'Rose-fingered dawn' as she said, just like the aoidos.

When the sun started shining in the sky, I stood and walked away after throwing her a grateful look. Before I was out of earshot, she spoke. She asked if I would perform with her again at the Aphrodite celebrations next moon. Sappho wanted her to participate and let her choose her partner. I stopped and turned back towards her.

"Why me?"

She fell silent for a moment as if pondering her answer.

"I told you, you have the voice of a goddess"

Then she diverted her eyes, drawing circles in the sand.

"I'll think about it" I say before hurrying away.