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husbandohunter · 4 years ago

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Stardew Impact [Stardew Valley+Genshin Impact x Reader]

Part 2/3 Zhongli, Xiao

Synopsis: “A mysterious phenomenon brought you and your s/o to an unfamiliar world: Pelican Town! Without the power of Visions, the two of you begin to learn the life of what it takes to be...a farmer?”

(DOMESTIC FARM LIFE ROUND TWO)

Genre: Fluff

Others

Diluc and Kaeya

Albedo and Childe

(A/n): This was meant to be part 3 but I couldn't wait to write xiao. Plus Ive been writing Albedo for almost the whole month already Word count_2.6k

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Xiao

• Thrown in an unfamiliar environment puts Xiao on high alert. Instincts kick in and his hand subconciously grabs for his spear. Nothing. Not even his vision activated. Xiao's gaze darts all over before landing on your figure. He sighs in relief, you're safe, that much he can decipher as of now.

• Stripped of his power, left with only claws and teeth (if must) to protect you from any dangers, he was ansty with every little thing.

• The villagers are so nice??? For what reason must they have to act so friendly to strangers (Xiao wonders). The Mayor even granted you two a vast farmland free of charge.

• Shortly he realized he no longer had his karmaic debt. Xiao wasn't sure how to live his life in this state. He dedicated his entire existence to years of slaughter and suffering that it became the only thing he knew. He won't admit it of course, he'll just throw in scoffs and remarks about how mundane activities are a waste of time when in reality, he just has no clue on how to handle them.

• Thats why the first day was difficult as you both try to figure out how to plant parnsips. Deciding it was better to go with an experiment, you split the share of seeds in half and used what basic knowledge you had on farming to finish the job. Xiao on the other hand tried copying what you did….though the outcome wasn't so desirable it was a mess. (His trained hands have taught him to be on the rough side).

• He doesn't bother socializing with the townspeople even though he has no karmaic debt to worry about. Xiao thinks you're more than enough anyways so what's the point?

• Robin is the only person who can tolerate him for obvious reasons (cough Sebastian cough) she knows exactly how to deal with his personality type. His glares don't faze her, she simply thinks its just a teenage phase of some sort.

• Eventually they become mutuals, Xiao thinks Robin is similar to Verr Goldet in a way. Since he's the one who does the heavy labour of chopping down trees and mining stones for building upgrades, he gets a chance to visit her house quite often. He comes back with lots of recipes too.

• You find out that his adepti blood never left him. Xiao doesn't need sleep so you better believe it when he tells you the next morning that he spent the whole night watering all 300 of your crops (watering is the only process he's good at for farming).

• Sometimes you catch him staring out of the window, wondering what he may be thinking. Life was so much more different, almost hard to recognize. Was this real? Is it okay for it to be real, just this once? Ever since he committed his duty to Morax, Xiao didn't dream of a time when everything would be peaceful. Yet here he is, no longer a weapon but on a journey to find out what it's like to live as a normal person.

• Spring: Every morning you find him kneeling behind the cabin with the pet cat (yes, cats seem to suit Xiao very much). He just stares at them, hesitant if he wanted to pet their fur or rub their chin. So he continues to glare intensely, scaring your cat away :(

• Whenever you wanted to attend any of the town's festivities, Xiao wouldn't even hide his distastefulness but goes with you regardless. Why do mortals consider hiding eggs and finding them a fun activity? And what kind of a name is Flower Dance? Can't they just call it a dance?

• Though…he does like the sight of you wearing a flower crown. Xiao likes putting stuff in your hair.

Since setting foot upon this new world, time seemed to have slowed down to the point that almost everything felt like an eternity. And you didn't mind, with him by your side, you wouldn't mind if it did last forever.

The lull of the grass was the only sound Xiao could hear as he closed his eyes and rested his head on your lap. You maneuvered across his scalp in small, subtle motions, surprised with how warm he felt against the heat your palm. He stirs a little and lets out a soft breath before turning his face to lay on the side.

You were slightly intrigued by the yaksha's new demeanor. From far away, Xiao was an intimidating man, even during the first time you laid eyes him, his presence felt similar to a knife pointing at anyone who dares to come too close. But now, the face that usually held his signature annoyance melted into something you never thought you'd see as the sun rays brushed against the surface of his fair skin. You observed the way his dark eyebrows stayed in a relaxed arch. The red crescents lining right above his beautiful long lashes and the sound of soft snores through parted lips. It was hard to believe that this man was the same person who claimed to have ended a thousand lives through thousands of years.

Did he fall asleep already?

Gently moving away the strands away from his cheekbone, hovered your gaze above him and whispered, "I thought adepti don't need rest."

"Hmph," Xiao responds, though there was no harshness in his tone, "Quit trying to be difficult, I didn't tell you to stop."

The smug grin on your face only widens. You lean downward and said to his ear, "And what's the magic word~?"

Xiao sighs at your antics. You were truly pushing your luck today and he simply didn't have the patience to entertain you. Without a warning, he grabs your wrist and pulls you down, foreheads pressing until you were but a breath away. The adepti conquers, he does not plead.

• Summer: As expected, your parnsnips weren't able to grow as much. Thus, this season was going to be the one to make up for the lost profit. Xiao is very good at hunting, perhaps the best in the entire town. Though the way he catches fish is rather peculiar, said by the folks. He prefers to carve a spear made of wood and repeatedly stabs the lake until results show. Xiao dislikes the old fashioned way, he says its unproductive and it unecissarily takes too much time.

• But as much as he scared the whole town, they were extremely grateful when he cleaned up the slime issues happening in the mines. You could say that he grew very popular since then and eventually mustered up the courage to greet him a hello whenever he passes by.

• You nudge him to reply back. Xiao usually shoots you a glare but slowly, he learns the courtesy of acknowledging someone's prescence.

• Fall: You woke up to a burnt smell coming from the kitchen. Xiao just thought he would return the favour since you always worked so hard. (He was actually trying to figure out what a 'whisk' was. It was no wonder why there were eggshells in the dish!)

• You realized that Xiao was taking more initation compared to before. At night, when you thought the animals were actively jumping in the barns, the noise was actually from Xiao trying to adjust himself to the ways of tending the field. After learning what TV was, he would always switch to the channel "Livin off the land" to gain some insight. Truly, Xiao was greatful even though he knew he eventually had to return to his duties, he wanted to utilize the current days the best way he could. And what better way was it to just make you happy in return?

• Winter: This was the season to test the accumulation of Xiao's abilities: you caught a cold and he had to manage everything in his own. Xiao scolded you for not wearing enough and being too careless but at the same he considered that you must've been working too hard.

• Goes to Robin for help. She basically became his mom now. Prepares the food and leaves them in the fridge, she teaches Xiao how to use the phone in case he needed any help and also lets him know where all the essentials are.

• Xiao stayed by your side the whole time even though you told him you'd be fine. But he refuses, he may no longer be a gaurdian but he was your gaurdian. That role never changed.

~~x~~

Zhongli

• You wake up on a soft bed with Zhongli sitting at a chair nearby. He hands you a cup of brewed water but you're still blatlantly confused. Seems like everything was taken care of by Zhongli, it ends up with him explaining everything to you.

• The folks instantly assumes you both as a married couple. Who could blame them? He did carry your unconcious body all the way to town while asking for a local doctor. You can bet that the ladies wish they were you at that moment. Zhongli took care of everything, including with the contract with the new farm.

• It didn't take long for you both to adjust to the new lifestyle. Zhongli's accumulated knowledge was enough to last all four seasons. Days past by peacefully as you shared the tasks. He'd place down the stone paths towards the gate and you busied yourself with decorating the house. After that was done, Zhongli would rest upon the rocking chair outside your door (like the grandpa he is) and sometimes you'd join him in one reading session. His voice was soothing, you eventually dipped into a slumber as the evening grew colder. Just like always, your beloved brings his arm to encapsulate you from the wind, brushing his thumb against your skin subconciously while you snore softly into his shoulder.

• In a way, the townsfolk were right. You both do act like a married couple. It's basically domestic life with Zhongli in a nutshell.

• He gets connected with Gunther and lands a role in the Museum. Since he's there so often, Zhongli also manages to be acquainted with Elliot as well. Two men who have a common interest with books while speaking in poetic prose. Their conversation would last for hours to the point Gunther had to kick them out of the library!

• Veeeery good with the children, not in an entertaining way but its just the aura he reeks. Penny usually had trouble dealing with Vincent since he never seems to be able to focus but the minute Zhongli speaks, he's all ears. Not only that he was also very good with the elderly. He even recommended some herbs George could take to soothe his back issues.

• Problem is that he still forgets to bring his wallet and Childe isn't here to save him. So once you stepped foot into the Stardrop Saloon and Gus calls you over, he tells you about the cost he owed to his tab….

• But this tranquil life full of genuinity and deprived of sovereignty, he was overjoyed to be able to spend it with you. Because he knew you were unlike him, that all humans were born with an expiry date. He knew so well that after every new greeting, he would have to face the goodbyes over and over until the world eventually came to an end. He knew you were also going to be part of those many goodbyes while he would still be here.

• But as Zhongli walks amongst the fallen leaves, he remembered the beauty that carries within every new beginning. They brought him to you and he would never hesitate to trade his gnosis for it.

Spring: You shot up your bed when Zhongli blast the TV at full volume. He apologizes, saying that he was simply trying to change the channel. You figured it was best for him to go outside before he somehow glitches the screen until it couldn't repair itself (Robin charges for repairs).

• Every thursday you both go to Pierre's store to complete your grocery shopping. He offers to push the cart as you fill the basket with all the necessities (plus it saves you the trouble of having him tossing whatever he sees without looking at the price tag).

• Every afternoon you order a take out from the Saloon, sharing the meal while sitting at the fountain's edge near the community center. Every evening Zhongli would take you to explore the rest of the vast farmland, discovering places you weren't even aware of. It was no wonder why everyone thought you were a married couple.

• Summer: Since the cabin was too small for a bathroom, you guys would have to travel up the mountains in order to get to the Spa house (cue sweatiness x10).

• The concept of hotsprings was derived from Inazuma so it was no surprise that Liyue eventually took it after him. Zhongli had collected some incense from foraging items over the past few months, he knows whats up. But overall he gives the best bath sessions (hands down) and you were the one who insisted in joining him. He was a gentle and sweet lover, always putting your needs before his. Ancient artifacts and old history books have always been precious to him, he treated you no differently.

The heartbeat of the oceans continues to rock back and forth until they brush up on the sandy shore, washing away the two pairs of footprints left behind by a man and a woman.

Gold against gold, his amber eyes reflected against the scenery. Millions of lights flashed among the sea when the sun began to climb down from the sky, it's rays hugged across the valley like an ethereal glow bestowed by the heavens as summer's wind brought even more warmth than what he had currently felt. You trance ahead of with the same light shaping around your form.

"Oh hey there's another rainbow shell," you waved at him before running off, "I'll be back!"

How is it that you still continue to shine like gold in his memories?

Zhongli suddenly ponders at the chapters laying ahead of him. He spent so many years turning each page without ever reaching a conclusion, forever searching the fabled happy endings written in fairytale books, but he knew his immortality wouldn't grant him that wish.

Thus, the formal archon raised his pen and reweaves his own story. He envisions his future with you by his side, engraving every detail until it was immortalized in his memories.

Perhaps I shouldn't keep her waiting.

With a renewed resolve, Zhongli clutches the gemstone tightly in his palm, he seals the page with the final contract between your future and his.

• Fall: After getting your first house upgrade, it was time for the next event: the ceremony. Yes, Zhongli would only have a wedding if Liyue traditions were involved. Everyone was invited of course, they were quite intrigued with the flashy setup such as lanterns and fireworks (you were a little worried with where he got the budget for such items) and Zhongli even educated Gus about some recipes he can use for the Saloon.

• You found out that Zhongli was saving all his money for this day (it was no wonder that he couldn't pay for his tab!). Old habits die hard, it was a shame that he didn't have his powers to craft the right items, but at least he got to sea you in a traditional eastern dress (it's the part he was looming forward to the most).

• Fall is the best season. One you wouldn't forget.

• Winter: Ah he finally learns how to use technology after three seasons. He only knows two channels from the TV which was 'Livin off the Land' and the weather channel. Zhongli oftens talks to himself as he tries to figure out more mechanics, he seems to be extremely absorbed in the most basic things.

• The miner of the house. But instead of using them to upgrade tools and donating them to the museum, Zhongli likes to keep some of them for collection. You could say your house also had a little museum in the other room.

• Romcom movies and soap operas. You can't change my mind that this is what you both spend your time watching as the snowstorm rages outside.

#genshin impact #stardew valley #genshin impact headcanons #xiao x reader #zhongli x reader #xiao headcanons #zhongli #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact xiao #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact imagines #genshin scenarios #genshin imagines #genshin impact zhongli #genshin xiao #genshin zhongli #nya-writes

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dreamingmanip · 4 years ago

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"MADNESS LOVE"

*GIF NOT MINE*

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Warnings: None (if I need one let me know in my ask!)

Prompt: NONE

Word Count: 1,860

A/N: Okay, this time I didn’t use any prompt from my board on Pinterest. I came with the idea last night (thanks insomnia), and I thought I could make it in 2 parts. Let me know what do you think in my ask, is always open for you. If you want t, like it and reblog it. Thank you very much!

A/N 2: I’m gonna pin this imagine so you can easily find it on my page, I will do the same when posting part 2. :)

A/N 3: This awesome gif is from Pinterest but, it comes from Wattpad. Her account is Ariana-Fic and you can find it in her fic “Soldiers in Intelligence”.

Being a cop wasn't easy, putting your life in danger to protect and serve others sometimes wasn't successful. It was 50/50, every morning you will be walking out home not knowing if you could come back.

It had been three weeks without a person in the unit. Detective Jay Halstead had been wounded in a crossfire in a covert operation; when one of you got hurt everyone took responsibility even if it wasn't that way, only for some it was harder to try not to blame yourself for what happened. You had blamed Hailey for not covering Jay enough even though you knew it wasn't her fault, you even avoided her a few days after that.

She was her partner way long before you were assigned to Intelligence by Sergeant Voight.

Narcotics helped Intelligence in a case; it was your case but somehow their case intertwined with yours at some point, both departments agreed to work to stop the overdoses in the area. You were the best at CO, so it made sense for Sergeant Voight to pick Jay, one of his best undercovers for a purchase. Your skills didn't go unnoticed by anyone in the Intelligence Unit, even for someone with experience like Jay. After the case was over he offered you a spot in his Unit, you doubt it for a moment, you were good in Narcotics, good pay, accumulated vacation days, Voight wasn't known for being a patient person and some co-workers encouraged you to take that step by commenting on how crazy you must be not to accept such an offer.

You were well received by all, perhaps except for Sergeant Trudy Platt, who didn't like strangers or new people in the district. Jay was among the first to congratulate you when you arrived, for a moment you thought you'd be partners but Voight wouldn't break his dream team, so he paired you with Kevin Atwater, whom you've been entrusting your life and darkest secrets to ever since.

Atwater was the first one you told about the nights you stayed late with Jay in Molly's, he was the first to know how those late nights became visiting his apartment, to end up arriving together one morning, to the district. He had told you about Voight's rules and how he was firm with them after Jay's last relationship had gone bad with his partner and that had affected his way of working a bit.

Jay and you decided to go slowly, the only one who would know about you two would be Kevin, it was agreed at least, but Hailey Upton was very good at her job so she soon realized what was happening between you. She had supported you, although she did not agree to hide this from her sergeant, she wanted to see her partner happy.

They were all at their desks, doing paperwork on a case they had closed the day before, when Trudy appeared on the stairs.

"Guess who came back from her mandatory break."

You looked up from the papers in front of you to look at a smiling Jay Halstead, who was looking at Trudy with a raised eyebrow.

"Nice to see you too, Trudy."

"Yeah, now try to get away from the bullets for a while, I don't want to have to worry about any of you for a long time."

Kevin and Adam were the first to approach him, joking and patting him on the shoulder. Kim and Hailey were next, giving him a loving hug before heading back to his places. You had stood up to lean against your desk, your arms crossed over your chest, Jay leaned closer, although he kept some distance, the mocking smile still on his lips. You were the first to speak.

"I see you survived, Halstead."

"Hey, don't say it like that, I'm going to think you're not happy to see me alive."

You pressed your lips together so as not to smile because of his comment, it was the game that both played in front of everyone else, the sarcastic comments to pretend that they were not getting along as well as they should. You nodded and looked at him.

"It's good to have you back."

Jay's smile widened and he put his hands on his hips.

"Look at that, you're happy to have me here."

You rolled your eyes and sat back in your chair when Voight left his office, leaning against the doorframe.

"How are you Jay?"

Jay nodded his head looking at his boss.

"Good, Sarge."

"Good, because I just hung up with the Superintendent and he wants to acknowledge what you did. Tomorrow there will be a public event, downtown."

You all clapped for a moment, before Voight continued speaking.

"Now try not to die until tomorrow."

Without saying more he returned to his office. Jay went to his desk to catch up on all the overdue paperwork, from time to time you looked up to observe him, you were glad to have him back but the moment you knew about the award, you felt a bitter taste in your mouth. Why were they going to decorate him when he almost died?

You stood up and went to the coffee room, took one of the cups on the wall and poured yourself some, you still felt that bitter taste in your mouth. You heard footsteps behind you and looked over your shoulder.

"Are you okay?"

Jay asked, taking another cup, reaching for the pot and pouring himself some coffee as well. You leaned a little to look towards the door, checking that no one was around to hear you. You started to get tired of that, checking over your shoulders to see if no one could hear your conversations or whatever you were doing behind closed doors.

“Uhm, yes, I’m just a little tired. We have been in some paperwork duties from a few cases from the past weeks.”

You took a sip from the cup, making a little grin at the taste of the coffee.

“Well, just for the record, I know when something’s bothering you. We have been together almost a year.”

He looked satisfied with himself, and you couldn’t deny it because he was right, Jay knew you so well almost since day one. You looked at him and gave him a little smile, his mood was good after dealing with a grumpy man at his house because he couldn’t get back to work after being shot, and you definitely didn't want to be the one to screw it up.

Kim walks into the room without realizing the interruption she just made or how you take a little more distance between you two, starts a little chat with Jay and you decide to go back to your desk.

Later, in the locker room, you were finishing picking up some things from your little blue locker, putting them in the gym bag you were carrying that day when Kevin appeared next to you, opening his own locker.

"I don't see you so happy today, you were quiet for most of the day, man you didn't even laugh at Ruzek's nonsense. I thought having Jay back would make you feel better."

You sighed and took a seat on the bench, rubbing your hands over your face before looking at your best friend. You played with your lower lip a bit before speaking.

"Kevin, am I crazy for wanting more in this relationship? I mean, we've worked well without anyone knowing, what difference would it make if we did from the knowledge of Voight, of our friends?"

They both fell silent when an officer entered the room and moments later he left the room, you clenched your fist and struck the cold metal in front of you, you felt frustrated and helpless. Kevin sat next to you, rubbing his hands together as he took his time answering you.

"Y/N, you are a pretty strong woman who knows what she wants, don't let anyone make you feel like you can't, not even some of my friends. If you want, I can talk to him, you know man to man" .

His comment made you laugh a little, releasing a bit of the tension in your chest, you bumped his shoulder with yours, pushing him a little.

"Thanks Kev. I don't think that talk is necessary but I will take it into account for future problems."

"Whenever you need me, girl."

You took your bag, Kevin had helped you lift your spirits but you knew you had to do something with your feelings, for better or for worse.

Jay was in the kitchen when he heard you arrive, a smile formed on his face as he came out to greet you, an ice cold beer in his hand and a hockey game in the background on television. He walked over to you to kiss your forehead, took your bag and set it aside by the door.

"It took you a little longer than usual to get here, I'm sorry I didn't wait for you. Trudy wanted me to fill out some forms for tomorrow and I left earlier."

You couldn't look at Jay without stopping to think about the consequences that your words would have, you knew about his past and you didn't want to be the evil witch who would ruin what you both had until that day. You settled next to him, resting your head on his chest while he watched the game and he made imaginary shapes on the skin of your arm.

It took you a few minutes before you could form a sentence, your voice lacking the strength you had gathered all the way to his apartment.

"Jay, what if we tell Voight we're together?"

Your voice caught his attention, looking at you completely confused.

"Y/N, we both know that we can't say anything at the moment if we want to continue working in the same unit."

You slowly sat up again, turning a little so you could face him, Jay was sure of what he was saying, it showed in his face and in the confidence with which he had spoken.

"Jay, I'm tired of having to hide from everyone, like what we're doing is wrong. Voight will understand if-"

"I've been through this before Y/N, I know what I'm talking about. I also refused to hide my thing with Erin, but things changed. If we tell this to Voight he will remove someone from the team and we know it will not be me."

You felt the air come out of your lungs, as if someone had hit you, Jay realized his mistake when you stood up, he began to move his head trying to speak, he left the beer on the coffee table trying to take your hand .

"Y/N, it's not what- it's not what I meant ..."

Unaware of your movements, you started to take your things in a frenzy, Jay seemed to be talking to you but you couldn't identify his words or what he was trying to tell you, you just left.

To be continued...

#Jay Halstead #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead x you #chicago pd #chicago pd imagine #hailey upton #kevin atwater #hank voight #adam ruzek #kim burgess #molly's bar

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cerastes · 4 years ago

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May I request a review of general coolness and awesome of the horses we saw during the event?

Right, Maria Nearl event!

I liked the event quite a lot, though I do feel like it dropped the ball at the end. That aside, I had a lot of fun the entire time!

First of all, the cast was wonderful. Maria is explicitly not a powerful or skilled fighter to any degree that matters in the frame of strength the story takes place in, being definitely more skilled than the average person and even the average nameless knight, but being woefully outclassed by practically anyone that has a name in the Major. A humble mechanic with a heart drenched in justice, Maria doesn’t even like to fight, and adheres to a knightly ideal and a duty she must fulfill instead to justify her participation in these commercialized bloodsports, which carries the narrative. She is joined by a lovable cast of rambunctious family and family friends, who serve as her mentors and support: Her aunt, who is more akin to an older sister-slash-maternal figure, Zofia, who we are immediately shown is so close to Maria that the moment Maria made a big decision (the participation in the Major) without confirming with Zofia first, she immediately chastised her, wondering why she did not consult with her beforehand. Aunt Zofia is her aunt only due to technicality, as she’s a lady-in-waiting (or, in other words, belongs to a branch family of the Nearl clan, and is actually only 5 years older than Maria) and, more importantly, a decorated, retired competition knight who earned enough in her career that she can live comfortably for the rest of her life, ironically far outstripping the main Nearl house in terms of wealth. There’s also Kowal, an old Ursus mechanic, engineer and smith who mentors Maria in the ways of the wrench, willing to pass his workshop to Maria with her as his successor any day of the week, who himself also used to be a squire to V, an old, retired knight of old who served as Grandpa Nearl’s peerless sharpshooter and who trained Zofia back in the day. Finally, we have Old Marcin, owner of the cast’s favorite hangout, a little bar where he and Maria mediate the infinite squabbles, fights, and arguments that Kowal, V, and occasionally Zofia spark between one another. The event does a great work of introducing the dynamic between these five characters as something extremely domestic and comfortable: You can tell these five are tight and that they have spent a long time together. It’s just another day in their low profile lives when, suddenly, Maria dons Margaret’s old armor and decides to take arms for the main Nearl house, which is currently on the brink of ruin and about to lose its knighthood and nobility titles.

And this decision, and everything this decision means, informs everything that happens afterwards: Zofia tells Maria that if she’s worried about being left homeless, then that’s just foolishness, since Zofia is absolutely 100% ok with Maria moving in with her. She’s loaded. They can live comfortably for the rest of their lives without a concern. Kowal, likewise, insists that Maria is a good enough mechanic that she can earn a living by doing that. But, see, it’s not about a livelihood for Maria, it’s about preserving that for which Margaret and Grandpa Nearl fought and stood for, it’s never about the wealth, it’s about the name, the principle, not the glory, the weight of ideals that blood was shed to nourish and maintain. Maria is not even sure if she’s doing the right thing, but she’s got to do something. Why? Look no further than Uncle Mlynar. A bitter man, a corporate slave, spitting bile at her niece and apologies at his bosses. And the fact that it is very clear that this guy can kick some serious ass -- we never see him without his trusty blade hanging on his hip and, at the end, tells Margaret to square the hell up -- makes it all the sadder: In any other context, Mlynar might be a knight’s knight, hell, Margaret herself says she respects him still, but the Mlynar we see now is an unimportant cog in the capitalist system, just another grunt apologizing to his phone every time his lips part, who gets in hot water just by making small talk because, whoops, your workload accumulated again, better get chop chopping. Mlynar is a very telling character, because he represents everything Maria resents about the current state of the Nearl family: Disgraced, meaningless, existing as an extension of other bigger conglomerates. He is what she wishes to never become, and what the Nearl house cannot be any longer, if she has any saying on the matter.

Maria is not a good fighter. This is important and delightful, because she wins not due to aptitude, strength, or experience, she instead uses her knowledge as a mechanic, her “pegasian sight” (what Grandpa uses to refer to Maria’s incredibly powerful investigative faculties, being able to analyze situations and catch even the smallest details quickly) and the sheer heft of her brass pair of metaphorical horse balls to pull through with clutch victory after clutch victory. Zofia trying to cram as much fundamentals as she can on Maria in as little time as possible so she can survive also helps a lot.

Maria’s victories earn her the possibility of sponsorships, which would, superficially, fix her problems: The main Nearl house would retain status, she’d get a Title, and she would not have to fight anymore. But, see, this is not the point of Maria’s fight. One might say “Maria should’ve just taken the sponsorships”, but that’s not the point of Maria’s fight. She is pushing back against this highly commercialized view on “knighthood”, just like Margaret before her did. Margaret had a clear intent and her passions made her act mostly in anger, as she makes no secret: She hates Kazimierz for what it has become. Maria’s intent is less clear, even to herself, but she’s very much aiming for the same thing, but instead of Margaret’s anger, Maria has her determination. To have taken any sponsorship would have superficially kept the Nearl house afloat, but Maria is not looking to keep the house alone afloat, she’s looking to keep the house and the ideals in which it was built afloat. It goes beyond mere status.

In a world as bleak as Arknights’ and specially Kazimierz, Maria is no doubt naive to the point of frustration... But it is that which we call naive that makes a knight’s knight: Chivalry forged from ideals, sacrifice’s blunt borne from beliefs. The easy way out would’ve ultimately doomed her story, hence why she did not just move in with Zofia, hence why she did not just succeed Kowal and accept his workshop, hence why did not accept a sponsorship: It never was about that.

The very first event of the game, Grani’s Treasure, takes place in Kazimierz as well, but in the isolated outskirts, and we see hard-working, honest people, inhabitants of a nice little scenic hamlet. Now, we see what Kazimierz really looks like: A sprawling megalopolis of neon and concrete where the system shamelessly feeds on whoever sticks out their neck. The contrast couldn’t be harsher, and any hell is upheld by its demons: Czarny was a fascinating character, in that he very clearly held a lot of influence and power... And was extremely replaceable. The moment he messed up badly enough, he was instantly replaced by just whoever the hell picked up the phone next. It’s chilling. One puppet performed poorly? Irrelevant, there’s an endless supply who’ll take his place, provided enough fear and funds. Fear and money. The two currencies of Kazimierz. When a shadow council can just appoint you as the next Spokesman just on basis of you having picked up a phone without any real background check beyond “the previous Spokesman likely intended for this next sack of meat to pick up his phone in case he messed up”, well, congratulations, you’ve crafted a terrifying capitalist hellscape. No wonder Margaret hates Kazimierz so much, given the rot brewing in its underbelly and upper echelons.

And to all this, I have to say: It’s lovely. I loved the world building, implicit and explicit, I loved the cast, I love the themes explored and how characters were used to juxtapose these.

I feel it kinda drops the ball at the end by just... Not having a conclusion? It just sort of ends, which is very weird because events tend to be good at concluding themselves. I assumed we’d get some post-Challenge stages cutscenes to tie everything up like in the past but... No, not really, it didn’t happen. Margaret swoops in, the sisters perform the Ultimate Kamehameha on the Sarkazian Knights, and then it sort of ends one brief talk later. It needed a bigger epilogue, for sure. But this doesn’t ruin the event or anything, just a bit of a weak ending, everything else is still delightful and I loved it very much.

So yeah! The horses sure were wonderful!

#whiskas does stuff #arknights #maria nearl #arknights lore post

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koutarouthighs · 5 years ago

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『 soft cotton 』

S U M M A R Y ― sometimes out of necessity, sometimes out of desire, and other times out of convenience, you end up wearing their clothes.

post type ➺ headcanons fandom ➺ haikyuu!! characters ➺ tsukishima ⧾ iwaizumi ⧾ terushima genre ➺ fluff rating ➺ t+ tags ➺ established relationship; clothes share/swap; nudity if you squint (bare thighs); party environment described but not in explicit detail; word count ➺ 2.8k request ➺ [YES/NO] ↳ request status: OPEN

⤭ tsukishima is confused the first time he finds you in one of his shirts. before his brow wrinkles in that telltale way of frustration, you hold your hands up in surrender and explain that while you were helping his mother in the kitchen, you spilled soy sauce on your white top and she offered to clean it for you while dinner was in the oven. ⤭ after that, you don’t end up giving him that shirt back. it’s an old one, that doesn’t have much sentimental value, but there’s something jarring about tsukki seeing you in his clothes; an out of body experience, almost. he doesn’t understand why anyone else would want to wear anyone else’s things - isn’t that why you buy your own clothes? ⤭ and he has to ask the other guys about it. why does she wear my shirt to bed? why doesn’t she just give it back? and boy, do they have a field day with him. he can be so dense sometimes. doesn’t he see? you wearing that shirt is like you carrying a piece of him with you, even when you’re far away. ⤭ his clothes engulf you, absolutely dwarfing your frame due to the height difference between you. tsukki has always thought of you as tiny, not fragile, but now, seeing you swimming in the fabric that makes up his ratty old tee, he thinks he has begun to understand why you like to wear this shirt over any of your more expensive, more fashionable ones. ⤭ he might be an asshole about it, but tsukki finds ways to gift you more of his clothes indirectly. he accidentally spills soda on your shirt one night when you’re staying in, watching a movie and eating pizza. another day he grabs at the hem of your shirt when you’re walking away and tears a hole in it. somehow, you still haven’t caught on, but he doesn’t ask you for the shirts back anymore. in fact, when you start to return them, he gets almost as irritated as he did when you had to ask for the first one out of pure necessity.

more below the cut ↴

“i’m sorry, kei,” you brush the fabric free of wrinkles as it settles at your mid thigh, covering the shorts that are currently adorning your lower half. you slowly look up at him, a warmth on your cheeks that signals your shyness, “i’ll bring back this one with the others next time i see you, okay?”

a scoff leaves his lips and he’s tugging at your wrist, pulling you forward on the couch until you’re tumbling down to meet him. your knees settle on either side of his waist and he watches as the fabric of the shirt pools around your thighs, “don’t worry about it. your washer makes them smell like old lady anyway. i don’t want them back.”

the way you tilt your head to the side, cocking an eyebrow and dropping your lower lip in confusion never ceases to amuse him. tsukishima reaches up and brushes his thumb against your bottom lip, inhibiting your speech even as you ask, “i-i can wash them over here, if you want, kei.”

he’s shaking his head again, snagging at you until you’re flush with his chest, your face tucked against his neck. it’s not necessarily odd behavior for him to want you so close, however it is strange that he’s not asking for his clothes back. he used to put up so much harder of a fight.

“nah, they were shitty shirts anyway,” he sloughs off the string of words like they were meaningless, however you know the weight they hold. you also know better than to tease him too far, rather to take the prize you’ve silently won through heckling and hard work. the shirt on your shoulders feels warmer, somehow, with the knowledge that you have his blessing to keep it as if it were a gift from him in the first place.

your hands run up the length of his shoulders until you are hooked around him entirely, clinging to his lanky body like a koala. he smells so good, especially after a shower and a shave, which you suspect he’s done earlier today based on the scent of his aftershave still lingering on his neck. you nuzzle your nose further against his jugular, feeling the way his heartbeat pounds the blood in his veins. a low hum escapes your lips without your permission, but tsukishima must not mind your slip of the tongue, but instead is encouraged by it, sneaking his chilly fingertips underneath the hem of the familiar item of clothing until he finds your ribs.

he’s practically lulled you to sleep with the ministrations of his fingerprints mapping out each of your ribs, in tandem with the warmth he provides and the skin-on-skin contact you’ve beseeched with your own hands. your eyelids cannot stay pried open any longer, and so you allow them to shut. somewhere between now and then, tsukki drags a blanket over your shoulders, angling his body to be in a more comfortable position without jostling you too much to the point you’re far too awake to fall back asleep.

just before your mind is consumed by that dark realm of slumber, you hear a low murmur in your ear, “they looked better on you anyway.”

⤭ iwaizumi would not admit it in the beginning of your relationship, but there was something about seeing you in his clothes, namely a t-shirt with his old high school jersey number on it, that just made him feel a certain way that he could not explain. ⤭ it starts with you forgetting to wear a jacket on a date one night, but you don’t ask. iwaizumi sees you shivering and wordlessly removes the bomber jacket from around his shoulders and places it on your own, waiting until you’ve slipped your hands into the sleeves before he grabs for your hand again, interlocking your fingers at the knuckles. ⤭ after that, you start to become more comfortable asking him for his hoodies and even though he gives you a bit of a frustrated comment after you accidentally take one home, when you stop asking for his jackets, he gets confused and concerned. ⤭ with iwaizumi’s job, he gets a lot of free merchandise from the team(s) he works with. and by proxy, you get a lot of t-shirts and hoodies and other items passed down to you because he would accumulate too many things otherwise. ⤭ you refuse to wear anything the first time, though. because without iwa wearing it around the house at least once, it won’t smell like him. he thought it was weird at first, but eventually you started noticing more clothes piling in on your side of the dresser that you’d seen him wearing a few times. and then, when he sees you step out of the bathroom after your shower with that team japan long sleeve shirt on, if you catch him quickly enough, you’ll notice a small, fleeting smile on his lips.

﹢

“hajime?” your call comes from the kitchen, and iwaizumi can hardly hear you from his place in the bathroom, showering after a long saturday of practice games. he rubs the towel against the top of his head, drying his hair before responding, “yeah, just a minute, babe!”

when he steps into the kitchen, you take him by surprise. you always do, even now, years after your first date. settled on your shoulders is an old seijoh promotional t-shirt he remembers having to wear to a fundraiser. but the seafoam green fabric settles against the tops of your thighs, exposing the remainder of your legs to the chilly breeze coming through the apartment windows. you always crack the windows when you’re cooking or baking; something iwaizumi noticed when you first moved in.

“iwa-chan?”

iwaizumi has to blink once, so harshly that he sees stars on the backs of his lids, before he can focus on you. he tilts his head and licks his lips, “yeah, sorry. what did you say?”

that laugh that rings in his dreams floats across the space between the two of you, and he fights a smile so he doesn’t look like a dope while you’re trying to ask him a question. he steps forward on the guise of hearing you more clearly, and then reaches out to push your hair behind your ear, his fingers itching to brush against the stitches of the fabric holding the shirt together on your pretty frame.

“i asked if you wanted the spicy steak tonight, or if you wanted me to reign in the heat,” your voice comes easy, simple and soft, and iwaizumi catches himself turning gentle at the sound of you. your palms abandon the cookware for a moment to extend towards his body, slipping beneath his top to rests on his hips. your thumbs brush over the warm skin, still slightly reddened from his time in the shower.

he’s so lost in the primal, territorial sensation he gets that starts as a prickling in the base of his neck, seeping down his spine and curling around every bone in his body. he wants to kiss you, to show you how he feels rather than telling you, and so he does.

iwaizumi has never been one to deny how he feels.

your breath is stolen from your lungs when he lurches forward to capture your mouth with his own. his palms are rough as they search your torso for somewhere to land, settling on your shoulders so he can keep your upper body pinned to him. you release a small squeaking sound from the back of your throat, but he’s already swallowed it before you can feel self-conscious.

“haji,” you gasp when you feel his fingertips dig into the muscle of your shoulders, and a laugh follows suit when his lips withdraw from yours and you can see the intensity in his gaze, “wh-what’s gotten into you?”

he’s not really sure, if he were to be honest with you. maybe it’s the nostalgia of the color fabric of the tee that you’re wearing. maybe it’s the way he wishes that he’d continued to play volleyball in a more direct way. maybe it’s the way the shirt falls just far enough to keep you from exposing anything too tantalizing.

or maybe...

“it’s just you,” he answers, pulling you by the thighs so he can pick you up and deposit you on the counter top. your legs sashay, ankles brushing his legs, and you can’t help yourself from twirling your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. iwaizumi takes a deep breath before repeating himself, as if saying the phrase again might solidify the statement, but this time he adds: “it’s just you, in my shirt. you’re absolutely beautiful.”

your whole body burns at the compliment, and you bashfully blink downward, but iwaizumi is quick to lean in for another kiss. before too long, he’s got you drowning in his affections, his palms beneath your shirt to map out your skin, and the dinner you were previously preparing has been completely forgotten.

“iwa,” you murmur between the clacking sounds your teeth are making as they collide, “d-dinner, what...”

you feel his chest reverberate with a growl and then his mouth is on your neck and his fingers are tugging at the hem of your shirt, “forget dinner.” his voice is rough and his touch is gentle, “we’ll just order out tonight.”

⤭ terushima is the one to ask you if you want to wear his clothes from the very beginning. he loves seeing you wearing his flannels and tees and hoodies. he always tries to find one that pairs well with your outfit so that way he can reason you into wearing his clothes whenever you go out. ⤭ if he comes home to see you curled up on the couch in one of his hoodies, just absolutely engulfed in the warm fabric, it makes his whole body tingle. he goes and changes after work and will definitely slip underneath the blanket you’re hidden under to wrap his arms and legs around you. ⤭ when he asks you for clothing advice, at first you wonder if it’s because he’s trying to change up his look. but, after a few strangely specific questions, you finally realize that he’s trying to tailor his wardrobe to be something that you could always find easy to wear. ⤭ the desire to see you in his clothes is partially from being territorial, but mostly because he just thinks you look hot as hell when you’re wearing his clothes. you always manage to make his clothes look ten thousand times better, mainly because it’s you wearing them. it never fails, he will always make a comment about how good you look wearing just his big tee to bed, even if your hair is all mussed and your face is still shiny from your skincare. ⤭ sometimes you’ll catch him stealing your clothes, too. you wear big tee shirts that are comfortable, and sharing is caring! he loves to pick on you when he wears your clothes, pointing out the designs printed on the shirts and how adorable you are for wanting to wear such cute little things.

﹢

“god, pretty girl,” his voice is rough as it runs ragged against your ears, his hands on your waist from behind, “you know how it makes me feel to see you in my clothes.”

and of course you do. yuuji is no quiet thing when it comes to how you make him feel. so, you lean into him, if only to egg him on until he’s begging you to head out of this little house party. his fingers slip into the back pockets of your jeans and you find yourself stumbling into his chest, palms fumbling over his torso to try and clutch at his shirt to steady yourself.

“teru,” you chide, pinching his cheek before leaning up to kiss him. you pull away before he’s gotten warmed up, leaving him following you by craning his neck. a chuckle escapes your lips and you press your index finger against his pursed mouth, “we came here to celebrate kiyoko and tanaka. can you keep your hands to yourself for just a few more hours?”

“baby,” he’s whining in your ear now, all needy with his lips pouted and his irises widening, “you can’t be serious! you know that’s my favorite shirt to see you in! i think you did this on purpose!”

his fingers tug on the material of the flannel that’s draped over your shoulders, pooling around your hips and framing your body just perfectly. you watch as his irises struggle to focus, pupils dilating as he looks down at you. his mouth twitches in expectant words, but he’s interrupted by someone else who steals your attention.

while you’re busy talking to one of your old friends from high school, terushima is given the opportunity to take in your appearance for the first time since he met you at the party earlier, and the sight of you engulfed in his flannel and a pair of his crazy socks that peek out from the cuffs of your jeans makes his chest constrict so much so that he grasps at his shirt with his fingertips, barely curling his digits around the fabric of his tee before he realizes what he’s doing.

a slow, gentle blinking of his lashes brings him back to earth, where he can stare at you some more, all unbeknownst to you. he doesn’t mind admitting to anyone who wants to know that he loves to watch you when you’re just existing. he likes to notice the little things about you, to catalog them in the back of his mind so he can remember them on days when you have to be apart for longer than he wants to be.

your attention is diverted when you feel his palms against your hips, his chest brushing your back as he leans forward to kiss your shoulder, “i’m gonna get a drink, yeah? you want anything?”

“water,” you nod, reaching back with one hand to run your fingers against his undercut, “thank you, teru.”

another kiss is deposited to your cheek before he unravels himself from you and heads towards the kitchen, hands shoved deeply into his pockets. and you tilt your head so you can take in a deep breath of the collar of the flannel that you’re wearing, and somehow it feels like you’re there with him despite the distance between you.

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wizardingworld-imagines · 5 years ago

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Secrets - Draco Malfoy

Pairing - Draco Malfoy x fem!Reader

Requested? - Yes! by @actyourownfandom-23

Word Count - 2k

Warnings - Umbridge. Need I say more?

A/N - I’m so so sorry that this took so long, however I hope I made up for it with the length and that it was worth the wait :)

Draco and Y/N were drawn to each other. There was an immediate spark, like fireworks going on a celebratory event for new years. There were only a few problems with their flirtations. Y/N was born to muggle parents, growing up without any knowledge of the wizarding world, until the Hogwarts letter arrived through their letter box. They were cautious, thinking it was some kind of prank or joke, but they eventually realised the truth and sent Y/N off to her new school for the next 7 years. She was also sorted into Gryffindor after arriving at Hogwarts, and swiftly made friends with Harry, Ron and Hermione. At Hogwarts, she would discover that she would find friendships that would last lifetimes, and a romance which was found in the strangest of places.

Y/N and Draco had been together for just over a year. They started getting closer in Third Year, when she helped look after him when his arm was injured by a hippogriff, who Y/N later came to learn was called Buckbeak when she helped Harry and Hermione save him. At the beginning of Fourth Year, Draco and Y/N started meeting in secret, spending tender moments together and Y/N learnt who Draco truly was. He was only a boy, manipulated by his father into believing extremist views, without little choice of his own. He had his reputation as a school bully, something most people would be cautious of, but Y/N understood why he did it. He was trying to gain his father’s approval, something he so desperately wanted that he’d sacrifice anything else for it. He could have done so many incredible things during his time at Hogwarts, yet he wasted his years being servile to someone who would never respect him.

When Umbridge came to the school, tensions were high. Y/N and Draco could no longer meet as often as they liked to, and their relationship was deteriorating quickly. Luckily, they were paired up in potions, allowing them to spend some time together.

‘No, Draco, you’re doing it wrong!’ Y/N exclaimed, as Draco ignored the instructions for the Draught of Peace, blissfully unaware of the adverse side effects caused by one small misstep. Draco turned to face Y/N, annoyance evident in his voice as he spat

‘I don’t need help from a mudblood, I bet you don’t even know how to brew the potion’

Draco’s eyes widened as he realised what he said, shame evident on his features. To anyone else he wouldn’t have cared, but he just insulted Y/N, his secret girlfriend of over a year. She stared back at him, outraged that he would say such a thing to her, but she couldn’t react. This was what he was like to everyone. She knew it wasn’t who he wanted to be, but he had been conditioned to think this way. ‘It wasn’t his fault’, she would tell herself, ‘it’s due to his upbringing.’ But surely he was at an age now where he could make his own decisions? Surely he didn’t have to keep trying to earn the respect of a father who might never be proud of him?

Y/N noticed the shame in his eyes, something only she saw. Most other people thought it was some kind of enjoyment, that he was sadistic and cruel, but Y/N knew what that look upon his face meant. He was hurting inside too.

Unfortunately for the pair of them, Umbridge was making her rounds of the castle and heard the commotion from the potions classroom as she strolled the dungeon corridors. She burst her way into the room, directly looking at Y/N and Draco.

‘Y/L/N. Malfoy. My office. Now.’ she said, turning swiftly around and out of the doorway where she just entered. Snape sent an unamused look towards the bewildered pair, and sighed, waving his hand to let them go.

Nerves racked through both of them as they walked towards Umbridge’s office. They had heard, and seen, what kind of torture went on in there. They paced the halls as they hiked to what felt like the gallows, neither of them wanting to speak about what just happened. Draco sent Y/N a look of apology, hoping she knew that he didn’t mean what he said. Y/N understood, she responded by nodding and then taking his hand in hers as they climbed the staircase to the office together.

Moments later, they sat opposite Umbridge, hands now parted as to not raise suspicion. She lectured the two about what had happened, and let Draco go without punishment. He was part of her inquisitorial squad, of course. He hesitated, not wanting to leave Y/N alone, but he had no choice. Staying would have only caused more complications.

After Draco’s departure, Umbridge brought out the parchment and quill Y/N had heard so much about. She had seen the scars on the hands of other students, and tears started to accumulate in the corner of her eyes, threatening to spill at any moment. Umbridge brought the parchment to the desk, and Y/N looked up at her, doing her best to be unafraid of what is going to happen.

‘Now, you must write ‘I must not keep secrets’ until you understand ok? How about 50 times?’ She says, sitting back down at her desk. The room was garish, pink and covered in decorative items with cats on them. The room was torture for the eyes, let alone the physical pain Y/N was about to endure.

‘Excuse me, why must I write that? I’m not keeping any secrets’ Y/N asked, curiosity in her voice.

‘I see how you and Mr Malfoy look at each other, and I reckon you two are sneaking out to see each other, are you not?’

Y/N was dumbfounded. How did she know? Y/N couldn’t answer, she just hung her head lowly and that confirmed everything for Umbridge.

‘Well, get on with it then’ She said, her tone a mix of excitement and disgust. And Y/N started writing.

~~~~~~

Leaving Umbridge’s office, Y/N examined the back of her hand, noticing the words etched into her skin already beginning to scar. The tears that threatened to spill earlier came pouring out, a tsunami of tears flooding her eyes and trailing down her cheeks. She ran to the common room, hoping that it would be empty, however to her irritation it was packed full of people.

She tried pushing past the bodies in the room, wanting to just go to her bed and cry, but to no avail, she was spotted by Hermione.

‘Y/N! Where have you been, it’s been hours since anyone last saw you!’ She stated, panic apparent with every word that she spoke. She grabbed Y/N by the wrist, noticing the marks on her hand. She was outraged, she pulled Y/N towards Harry and Ron, who were residing on the couch by the fireplace.

‘Look what Umbridge did to Y/N!’ She exclaimed, revealing Y/N’s hand to the boys. They both read the words, confusion visible upon both of their expressions.

‘But, you haven’t got anything to hide, have you?’ Ron asks, looking at Y/N, giving her reassurance that if there is anything she could tell them.

‘Well, actually…’ she starts, not knowing if she should tell them. ‘They have a right to know, they’re your best friends.’ She tells herself, so she continues, not wanting to leave them waiting.

‘Actually, I have got a secret. I may be in a relationship’ Her intonation higher on the last words, demonstrating her nervousness.

‘With who?’ They all yell, gaining the attention of everyone in the room in their desperation to know.

Silence fills the common room, and what can only be described a a squeak comes out of Y/N’s mouth.

‘Draco’

Mouths drop to the floor, did she really just say his name? Everyone was astounded by this, Draco Malfoy, the infamous hater of muggle borns, Gryffindors and essentially anyone who existed.

The silence was deafening. Y/N didn’t know what to do. She acted upon her first instinct and raced towards the common room entrance, leaving as swiftly as she could. She went to the only place she could think of, the spot where the Draco and her met in the forbidden forest.

~~~~~

When she arrived, Draco was already there. He was mumbling to himself, something about being a terrible person and how cowardly he was for not staying to prevent whatever happened to Y/N. Oh his innocent Y/N.

Y/N approached quietly, trying to make out what he was saying. She could only catch words isolated from the rest of the sentence. The snapping of a twig underneath Y/N’s foot caused Draco to turn around dramatically,his wand drawn ready to hex whoever interrupted him in his solitude. Noticing that it was Y/N, he quickly put his wand away, rushing towards her. He clasped her hand tightly in his, and brought it up to his lips, kissing the scarred flesh.

‘There you are, I was starting to think she still had you in her office, I was debating whether I came back to rescue you from your captor’ He said, a smirk rising.

‘Draco, this isn’t the time for flirting, they know’

Seriousness washed over his face. ‘They definitely know?’ He asked, a lump forming in his throat.

‘Yes. I had to tell them. They wondered about what I was hiding and I’m so tired of keeping this secret. I know I should have asked you first but I just had to do it’ She responded, expecting him to be angry and wanting to leave her.

‘Ok’

‘Ok? That’s how you respond?’ She questions.

‘Well, they know now. And that’s ok. We can deal with that’

Y/N was astonished. Draco was ok with them knowing? He had wanted to hide things for so long, but now it’s suddenly ok?

She didn’t get an opportunity to speak when the sound of three pairs of feet, crunching the leaves below them, approached the couple.

Expecting something bad to happen, Draco instinctively pulls Y/N behind him, wanting to keep her safe from anything that could do them any harm. He only wishes he could have done the same back when they were in Umbridge’s office.

The faces of the trio peering back at them, Y/N steps out from behind Draco.

‘Hello’ Harry starts. ‘I know we reacted badly back there, but we came to apologise. It isn’t our place to judge who you date or choose to spend your time with and after consideration we would like to apologise for our actions’

Y/N smiled at them, her heart filling with warmth.

‘Now, this isn’t to say that we like you, Malfoy, however, we will tolerate you, for Y/N’s sake. But if you do anything to ever hurt her, you’ll have us to answer to. Ok?’ Harry finished his lecture, staring at Draco, making sure he understood what was being said.

Draco laughed at the thought of them confronting him, but he reassured them, ‘don’t worry, I wouldn’t dream of hurting Y/N’ Finishing his sentence by taking her hand in his.

‘Now, let's get back to the castle, dinner is about to start and if we’re missing without reason we’ll be in big trouble, let alone if they find us in the forbidden forest’ Hermione reminded them, as they began their walk back to Hogwarts. A place where they could be whoever they wanted to be, regardless of their family, their background, their actions. A place they truly called home.

#draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #harry potter imagines #hp imagines #harry potter imagine

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boogiewrites · 4 years ago

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Never Break the Chain Pt. 4

Part 4 of 5

Characters: Javier Pe��a x OFC

Summary: Esme is left with the harsh reality of her feelings with Javi and what loving him means. Lead by her heart and her gut she leaps into action to try to secure her hopes of having a future with him. But in their line of work, things can take a turn for the worse in a second.

Warnings/Tags: Injury. Canon Typical Violence. Life or Death.

Click on my icon then go to my Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.) Please like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed it! It helps out us writers A LOT!

To hold herself together in times of distress Esme had to fall apart from time to time when she was alone. Tonight was going to be one of those times. She secluded away in her small hideaway in the mountains. She had always enjoyed her own company, knowing the difference between being alone and being lonely, but the latter was heavy on her back as she sat red-eyed on the bed, looking out the plantation shuttered double doors in her bedroom.

Her mind couldn’t decide if talking to Javi had been a mistake or not. She felt every buried emotion in a rush that left her a sloppy, blotchy mess. There was no one around for kilometers to hear her, so she let it all out. The rosary she’d mentioned to Javi was occupying her hands as she bounced her legs, full of anxious energy.

Before, the consequences of knowing Javi were something she could deflect, although the coincidence of knowing a cop from over four thousand km away from her childhood would be a hard sell, she hadn’t worried drastically about it. The more intricate reality of how she felt about him was what she was wrestling with. The fact that she had seen him, touched him, talked to him were no longer what ifs’ or fantasies but hard facts. The fact she was struggling with most intensely was that she was still very much in love with him. Before he was a memory, a myth, a story to be told over drinks. He was now the man in the next town over, sharing her same sentiment in both love and life. They weren’t kids anymore, he’d been right about that. Which meant seeing their lives for what they were in the harsh light of day and not through rose-colored glasses. Where they had wanted to be was no longer a thing to strive for, it’d become a prison of their own making.

She didn’t know if it was her body getting worn or the years of repressed emotions that made her feel so damned exhausted. The thought of going back into the den of the same men that wanted her one love dead suddenly wasn’t as easy to sit with. There were real consequences now. For both of them.

Perhaps it was paranoia, but it’s kept her alive this long. She had her bug-out bag by the bed, rosary wrapped around her wrist, and slept with her shoes on. She rubbed the wooden beads like a worry stone; even though she hadn’t been sure what she believed in for many years. Especially not after the things she’d seen, or the things she’d done. There was a strange comfort knowing Javi had a similar sort of experience. Even if she wouldn’t have wished it on anyone. Maybe he would understand. Maybe he was just as tired as she was. Maybe… she had some hope for a future. She had to talk to him again. This time with a purpose, to ask him to leave with her instead of abandoning him again.

———

As she had following every breakdown, she’d dusted herself off and got back to it the next morning.

In a dress and heels that said, ‘Don't fucking question me.’ She walked into the stone-columned entryway in a powerful man's home. It was a nice morning, not a trace of her collapse the night before remained on her face. She sat poised, with understated jewels glinting in the sun. Yet, her favorite accessories were hidden in places the sun wouldn’t hit, those were her weapons.

She had been establishing herself to get to this client, networking, and performing feats to gain trust in a trust-less circle. Playing it cool, she kept her face set into a lovely neutral but curious. It was a grand promise of cash. She found herself in the right spot for the rule as old as time; supply and demand. If she could seize the articles that had been taken from their owners, she would be compensated with a bigger payday than she’d ever encountered. The sentimentality of the pieces, the danger in the retraction, and the previous failures of those that had come before her secured the pay to be something someone like her could not resist.

“They were in my family... generations ago… before their family decided to fuck over mine we were joined by marriage, then by blood. We have not been able to get them through legal or... other means. But you, Estelle, I believe you have a chance to be successful.”

It was flattering but she was already decided by her motives. Enough money to run. And far. Not to mention a comfortable life on the other side when she sold what she’d accumulated over the years and combined with her savings. She’d played it smart the last few years and pulled the plug on the extravagant lifestyle that had beckoned her to this sort of work in the first place. She saw it as a sign, a dazzling neon one directing her to do it. So with a smile and a handshake, she did.

These people she operated with were not the cartel, but that did not make them just as dangerous. They had their hands in every sort of money stream and political influence. They couldn’t go into this location she was to infiltrate guns blazing, they had to have more finesse and mystery. Which is why they hired out. No connections made for less chance of blowback and made it easier to deny the job was them. And by the time they had to worry about such things, she’d be long gone.

She was being personable, enjoying a cocktail by a sapphire-blue pool and eavesdropping on the conversations around her. While ignoring the guy trying to impress her that had perched next to her she was tuned in to the young man that had a two-way radio by the stone fence that enclosed the pool.

They spoke English from time to time which she found unusual. But if they were looking to not be understood it wasn’t the worst approach. The staff here wouldn’t be able to understand them. Most of the men presumably wouldn’t recognize it either. Esme however spoke fluent English. She was raised by a Mexican mother who pushed her to speak English to fit in in Texas. At home, she was one person, a fluent tongue, and outside she was the brown girl that was berated with “HABLA ENGLAISH?” By every white woman she ran into. It had saved her more than once; when she was younger and especially now.

“The pigs are out today.” A statement she knew wasn’t about the animal was caught.

“Pigs are out every day.”

“They think they’re up to something.”

Esme knew that the people that were being referred to were the drug runners. These mining types didn’t pay much mind to cops, they paid them off when they needed and they were mostly left alone. When you have the foresight to build a public image with legal means of income, it’s easier to hide the sketchy shit.

“The gringo is asking questions.”

One of the white boys must have been trying to gather intel in the force. It could be Javier's partner but she couldn’t know for sure.

“Boss? Do we need to let the boys in town know? Is there going to be anything we don’t want them getting mixed up in?”

He thinks for a moment, Esme seeing him out of the corner of her eye, a squint down the mountain and onto the sprawling city below. “Our boys are in the east today, yes?” a pause and a nod of acknowledgment. “Tell them to come home.”

With that order, her jaw tightens. Esme knew something was going to happen. These men might not be narco’s but they certainly knew them, and ordinarily, they would tip the other off to trouble. Business going as usual was best for all involved. Normally she’d head back to her hideaway, let it all play out. But she knew if there was some trap that Javi’s partner might be falling into, that meant trouble for Javi. She couldn’t stand by idly and wait with that knowledge.

She remained composed, finishing her drink before a schmoozy goodbye, a promise to catch up as soon as plans were made. She acted nonchalant until she was past all the checkpoints, she knew better than to act in any sort of rush. Her little cabana was tucked away out of sight from the road between the deeply nooked mountain homes of powerful men and the city. She tried calling into town, a risk she was willing to take while she scurried to change her clothes and add a gun to her ensemble. She asked for Pena first. When she was informed he was not there she asked for his partner, and the same answer found her. She hung up swiftly, heavily armed but light on information. She knew the east side of the city would be the smallest area she could narrow it down to. She hoped her mind didn’t fail her at calculating where to go.

On her motorbike she darted about the streets, eyes peeled, heading by Javi’s place and finding his car gone, and the oil spots now dry, in its wake. He hadn’t been home in a while. Was it the smartest idea to break into an officer’s apartment? No. But was she? Yes. Javi had always been a researcher, if they were going to be zeroing in on a place, he would’ve been to it already. He was an active learner, not passive. He’d never be satisfied with being told what to do, he had to get in and see, touch, taste, and smell for his own opinion to be formed. She took a quick loop around, finding nothing out of the ordinary and circling back to the front door. The place was nicer than she’d expected, it did smell like liquor and cigarettes but so did he off hours. A little mirror and a catch-all basket by the door on a small table was her target, and inside were matchbooks, places she’d watched him go before buried beneath but one she wasn’t as familiar with on top. A pool hall, which wasn’t Javier’s style, sat like a sore thumb. She took the hint, this must’ve been the place they were headed, or at least close to it. She pulled her hair back and looked at herself once in the mirror before a nod to reassure herself and once again she was back out among the busy streets.

She pulled up and parked by a small marketplace, a casual place to leave her bike while she set off on foot, eyes behind her glasses ready to pick up any little nuance. Sadly seeing a guy with an automatic rifle wasn’t automatically a tell for narco behavior, this part of town was rough, you had to defend yourself. The uptick in the number of guys sauntering in the streets with them did however raise a red flag. She took to the rooftops with light feet, sneaking about and hopping from ledge to tin roof, shimmying up pipes and broken walls to scan. Not many were out on their rooftops, making it easy for her to cover lots of space fast, but that was also a bad sign. Like before a natural disaster happens, the animals clear out. The sentiment was the same.

She found a nice place to camp out, shaded by the sun and out of sight of the street on a corner near the pool hall. She could hear the static of a two-way radio a few buildings over from time to time, each time it made her jolt and she was growing impatient. The only thing that kept her calm was that she hadn’t heard any gunshots, and even that was grasping at straws. She eyes a few streets down, higher-end vehicles in red and blue, one after another. This meant one of two things, narcos or cops. She leaves the safety of her cubbyhole and crawls about to find a way to move quickly. She wasn’t being the most stealthy, leaping from ledges, but she had to follow the cars. Her instincts had been right.

Men in and out of uniform pile out, talking quietly, moving swiftly. Now she had to worry about staying out of sight as she got closer. She saw men on the rooftops she hadn’t noticed before, with sights on their guns and she would bet itchy trigger fingers. The static of a distant radio blurts out, a hushed voice in Spanish says “They’re here. Moving into position.”

It was a trap. The situation made her stomach drop and her pulse quicken. She wanted to be close, to warn them… well, to warn Javi. She was about to insert herself into the narco’s game and that would put a huge target on her back. It would potentially ruin her chances of booking this career-ending job she’d landed. She pulls out her gun, switching the safety off, and lowering herself with burning thighs as she used all her slyness. She could get away with it if she was smart about it... and killed all the witnesses.

She knew between the choices of standing by and watching Javi die, or intervening and getting ousted, she could only live with herself in one of those situations. Better to go out fighting for someone she loved than to be a coward and die with regrets. She jumps ahead, closer to where they seemed to be funneling to, various bursts of static around her as she studies to keep a close eye on not coming across anyone lurking.

She sees that shiny, coiffed head of black hair she’d wanted to run her hands through just days before, the lean build and tight jeans wrapped up in a bulletproof vest. His head was on a swivel, she knew he could look after himself but wasn’t about to take chances. She finds a man on his stomach, gun through a small slot in the wall, and aimed in their direction. She takes her moment patiently, padding foot over foot closer and closer with her gun drawn and her knife at the ready in the other hand. He wore no identifying markings, he wasn’t one of them, he might’ve heard her if he was. He was too zeroed in, potentially coked up so she had to act discreetly. She paused until that coke nose of his itched, hand off the trigger for only a few seconds before she latched and covered his mouth, head back and stabbing in deep to keep him making any sounds. It’s not that she wanted to kill him, she just saw no other way for this interaction to go down.

From here she had a better vantage point and was trying hard to look away from Javi and keep her eyes on every alley and rooftop. She lines up her eye with the scope, seeing it was aimed right at the group, she notices a man across from her, just a slight bit of an angle, an accomplice she assumed. The group moved forward, inching closer to being in between the two guns' direct line of sight. There wasn’t even a need for the sights at this point, a spray could take most of them out in a few seconds. These were calculated kills.

“Dibs on the gringo.” a crackle over the radio in Spanish, then another, “Which? There’s so many.” a hiss of laughter and she hears it from the other side of a half wall. They must’ve had multiple men camped out, she knew they intended to kill as many as possible. She couldn’t scream out, she couldn’t shoot them, she had to find that millisecond between when they would shoot and let their position be known. “When they get to the cars. Wait. Then fire.”

“What if I don’t fuckin’ want to? I want to shoot this smug look off this mother fucker’s face.”

“We won’t get them all if you don’t wait.”

She had pieces of information and tried to see the whole picture. She believed in the car there was a remote bomb being held by one of these sicarios. It’d take a good piece of them out and render them blind. It was a plan that had worked many times, but this time she’d be happy to fuck up a well-laid plan.

“Get the white boy, he’s been snooping. I got the mustache. Asshole fucked my sister.” If this had been any other situation it would’ve made her laugh, or at least crack a smile. But now it gave her a target, a plan of action.

“Maybe if your sister wasn’t a whore.” one laughs then a hiss follows throughout the rooftops among the static.

“Fuck you, man. Shut up or I’ll make sure you get shot today too.”

She moved as quickly as she could, having to backtrack to not be seen and climb over the wall to sneak up on the boy who was claiming Javi as a prize. She hunched over him, taking a chance at being seen, but since she couldn’t make out the placements of any of the other voices, she took her chances. A tension-filled hush fell across the street, no one but the cops out now. She waited for the man to readjust his arm, a sure sign of pulling the trigger shortly. They were holding their breath for the bomb, and she was assuming it was the double-parked cars, waiting for the group to get between them and hit them from all angles.

He swallowed, then popped his neck, settling down, face away from the hole he aimed out of and she took only a second to make up her mind. She shot him in the head as he braced himself.

“TRAP!” she screamed with all the force she could manage, tasting blood as she hit the ground, the cops now on high alert to the rooftops, and the guns fired. She’d given them enough time to duck for cover, having to take out the gunfire from one side of the street herself. She heard the bullets whizzing by as she hunched and ran down to the street, an alleyway where Javi had huddled down a moment before she saw the men barrel down the stairs opposite them. They’d had the same idea. “JAVI!” she screams, gun out and trying to peak from behind a dumpster.

His eyes were wild for the second he met hers. Confusion is all that read on his face, unable to answer under the gunfire.

“FOLLOW ME!” she shouted, firing off rounds to cover him as she motioned him towards her.

“You wanna explain-?” He’s caught off by the bombs in the street going off, knocking him back.

“SHUT UP AND RUN!” she shouts, shoving him forward, “You’re surrounded. Head West!” it’s all they needed, him hitting the pavement as hard as he could and her grabbing him by the vest to jerk him the way she needed. She hoisted him up against walls, all while hearing the men shouting and the stray spray of bullets hitting the corners they’d just passed. She knew they weren’t concentrated west, the men would instinctively run east towards the station, towards the backup, but she knew better.

She raced ahead, a small blocked-off space high up is what she yanks him down into. They don’t speak for a moment, catching their breath and her pushing him down to look out to see if anyone had been able to keep up with them.

“Now can I ask a fucking question?!” he rasps out.

“I got wind of something going down in the east today. So I came. And you should be kissing my ass for saving yours!”

“We were about to-”

“About to get blown the fuck up. Whatever you thought that was, it was a trap.”

“How did you know?” his eyes narrowed at her accusingly.

“I know that look and no, I’m not working with the narcos. I overheard some cronies at my meeting this morning. I narrowed down the options, ran across town and scoped it out, took out two guys, and then...lit the keg and ran.”

He blinks rapidly in response, processing the information.

“Yeah, you’re welcome. They wanted to kill you and your partner pretty bad.”

“Doesn’t surprise me.”

“Apparently you fucked one of their sisters?”

"I stand by my response.”

She smiles at him, something he doesn’t expect. He doesn’t have time to react until a few stray bullets hit something near them causing them to hunker down again.

“You could’ve gotten killed you know.”

“I’ve done it before.”

“Not funny.”

“It’s a little funny.” she rolls her eyes.

“I’m serious.” he grabs her wrist. “I have to deal with you being with these other... assholes and not the ones I deal with. Don’t make me worry twice about you.”

“I’m a big girl. I can handle it. I promise. I wasn’t about to let you walk into an ambush.” she states defensively.

“I’ve made it out before.” he huffs defensively.

“You will until one day you won’t.” when she meets his eyes again, after seeing his soot-covered knuckles wrapped around her wrist, she adds “If I can keep your ungrateful ass around long enough to make up for all the shit I put you through I’m gonna do it.”

He looks her up and down, but not how he had countless times with women, but biding his time to figure out what about that statement he wanted to ask her first. “What do you want me around for if you’re not gonna be there?” It was direct and hurtful, but also a fair point.

She stops looking out and meets his dark eyes to hers, she looked almost offended. “I want to be around,” she says softly. “I just wasn’t sure how.”

“Stay with me. Stop running. I’ll keep you safe.” he moves his hand from her wrist to interlock his fingers into hers.

“Over 20 years and you still haven’t come up with anything else?” she jokes and squeezes his hand. “I did want to talk to you about it. About… us...” she spoke softly and paused, ears perked up to the movement outside.

“What do y-”

“Shh.” a quick and low serious squeeze of his hand. “Someone’s close.”

“Where the fuck are you Javi?” blares out over his radio on his chest. Not a second later, bullets are coming through the back of their hiding spot, scrambling to get out, despite her fighting him, he covers her.

“Rooftop. West.” is grunted out as he and Esme wrestle to be the one to shoot the perpetrator.

She hits his chest and then right in the head, falling in a slump before she notices Javi is no longer hovering and trying to keep her down. A quick turn, intaking the rest of the space, knowing more would be on their way soon, and whether they were cops or sicarios she couldn’t let them find her. In her rush she hasn’t noticed Javi on the ground, she sees his face for only a second, slightly confused before looking at up her the moment she sees his side and hands covered in blood.

“Oh fuck, Javi... no.” She spits out and immediately ducks over him

“S’not... good news sweetheart.” He gives her a smirk, one she’d seen a thousand times on a younger version of his face. She knew with that expression alone it was indeed not good.

She doesn’t get time to react, to even breathe before more shots make her go into survival mode. She covers him, dragging him to a nearby brick wall to at least be safe from one side while she covered the others.

“Can you watch behind me while I look at this?”

“Yeah.” A pause while he holds his gun out. “I can try.”

“Was that your partner on the radio?”

“Yeah should be here soon.”

“Let’s hope so.” She grits her teeth and can’t tell if the shot went straight through, which meant he would probably be okay if it hit in and was now embedded in his stomach. Either way, this wasn’t ideal, to say the least.

“There’s-“

Before he gets it out she’s turned and shooting more men trying to get on the roof, none having the foreign blonde hair and pale skin of his partner.

“You should get out of here... y’know. They’ll ask questions.”

“I’m not leaving you.” She applies pressure to his side and he lets his head fall back to the wall with a heavy breath.

“Now is a hell of a time to start.”

She gives him a hard brow but would normally laugh because he had a point. “I never... ugh.” She grunts in frustration, shooting another man a few rooftops over. “I never wanted to leave you.” She continues trying to figure out the best way to slow the bleeding down. “It's the last thing I wanted to do. You know that right?” She asks to receive no response.

She sees he’s lost consciousness. Now it was proving to be worse than she had hoped. Cursing under her breathe, fighting back tears, the burning making a splitting headache form in her forehead, she uses the only thing in sight she can, taking her shirt off and ripping it tie a makeshift tourniquet around him.

She hears a bark from a man that sounds almost familiar and a dead giveaway as a cop. His partner was almost there. “You’ll be fine Javi.” She whispers, not knowing if she believed it or if he could even hear her. She kisses his cheek and holds his head close for a moment. A few seconds of kissing his hair, trying to forge a deep memory from a rushed moment. Just in case.

“JAVI?!” She hears shouted.

“UP HERE!” she shouts, knowing she had to get away but wasn’t going to leave him until she had to. She was soon not given a choice when orders were barked at her on sight.

She used her savvy, knowing how to get away, even if it was a stretch. “He’s shot.” She says backing away with her hands up to the edge of the roof. “Murphy, please don’t let him die.” She begs as the man’s face softens for a moment, she recognized he must have understood who she was.

The man coming up behind him however didn’t. He fires off a shot, hitting her and forcing her to make an abrupt jump from the rooftop.

“SHIT!” Murphy barks again and shoves the other man’s gun to aim down at the ground. “Don’t shoot HER!” He shouts in the man’s face. “She was helping him! Can’t you see that?!” He runs to the edge, looking down and seeing nothing but a dumpster and a few drops of blood on the pavement. Javi had been right. She was good.

@jaegeeeeer @likedovesinthewnd @inkededucatednnerdy @biharryjames @ladamari68 @past-romantic @weliketomoveit @shikin83

#Javier Pena #Javier Pena Fanfic #javier pena x reader #javier pena fic #javier pena fan fic

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paellaplease · 5 years ago

Text

Firebird | Chap.7

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

I’m back!

Chapter 7: Of Monsters and Metals Part 2.

...but by the restless heart that refuses to falter.

Contrary to popular belief, whilst she was well accustomed to it, years of sweaty work hadn’t endeared her to the less glamorous aspects of working in a forge. It was hot, and oftentimes stuffy, making water breaks important as the hours passed on and her arms began to tire. Working through the summer was unbearable, with no amount of mountain air able to cool the uncomfortable redness on her face and arms.

Whilst Teacher could walk around the forge like it was her second home, it took months of discipline for Maiya to tolerate the place. How ironic that it seemed to follow her everywhere like a rope tightly wrapped around her wrist.

Shifting in her seat, she was thankful that the constant exchange of air above Jackdaws had rid the forge of the usual sulfurous stench of burning coal. This quiet, unassuming workshop kept close between Wayra’s rock and stone, like a beating heart beneath living flesh.

....But of course it would take a miracle to completely filter out the unmistakable burning smell of hot steel and the lingering taste of metal on her tongue.

A small drop of sweat rolled down the back of her neck. If I close my eyes, she mused, it would be like I never left home. Her head lolled forward, the previous hour’s excitement catching up to her. It wasn’t everyday a Rito takes you flying.

She was sinking in her seat, a single voice one of the only things standing in the way between her and an impromptu nap.

“…almost impenetrable rock like bodies completely covered in ice! I have heard with enough prolonged contact they could also freeze exposed flesh in seconds. It’s incredible...”

Oh. Right.

It took all her might to peel her eyelids back open. Of all the challenges she was bracing herself to encounter from Rito Village, she didn’t expect ‘being lectured again in another forge’ to be one of them.

Yep, definitely just like home.

In the reddish glow of the forge, Uleh gesticulated with a graceful turn of a poised hand. The Zora appeared fresher than a daisy, a completed sword blade resting on the anvil next to them, gleaming almost as bright as their teeth. Where they got all their energy from after what would have been hours of gruelling work was one of the many greater mysteries of Hyrule.

They spoke words that, whilst probably important, unfortunately fell on deaf ears as the Enchanter dozed off. The heaviness of her eyes continued to fight her as they settled on a rough sketch of the monster. Drawn in haste, it appeared to be one big blob with two smaller blobs attached at its sides to act like its appendages. It was a literal rock. A giant, dangerous rock. Larger than a house, the Zora had said. She briefly wondered if Uleh was having her on.

Guess so long as we don’t get within arms reach it should be fine.

“I suppose we’re not befriending the Talus and escorting it back home?” An exasperated voice called from a corner of the room. Maiya leaned her head back, her brain supplying an upside-down image of Revali testing the balance of a Falchion on one of his wings.

“Unfortunately not, but how uncharacteristically nice of you, Master Revali." The Zora replied, evidently unbothered by the archer’s sarcasm. Propping their head up with a hand, their smile was natural. Easy. "Making friends with monsters? We should table it for a later venture.”

The blue Rito opened his beak to protest, but was cut-off again by the Zora’s ringing laugh. “Ahah, you may be onto something though. Managing to form a positive connection would make your jobs easier. I mean, since you’re getting up close and personal anyway.”

“Hmmm...yeah.” Maiya sat up and stretched.

A beat passed as her brain finally decided to process the last sentence. “Wait.”

“Not to worry. It shouldn’t be too difficult.” Uleh said, totally misreading her panic. They tapped the side of their skull for emphasis. “The ingredient should be in the ore poking out of its crown. You can’t miss it. It’s usually right at the top of its head.”

Years of accumulated dust motes floated into the air as the Hylian slammed both her hands onto the aged writing desk. She gripped the edges in shock, the hardwood creaking. “Sorry.” A breath. “Can you run that by me again? Starting at the part where you said this wouldn’t be difficult.”

Uleh caught the tipping candle-holder before it fell, saving their map from going up in flames. They tilted their head down to look at her, wide-eyed confusion making her feel a little guilty. “Forgive me Miss Enchanter, had I said something wrong?”

“No.” She huffed, refusing the need to anxiety-pace around the room. “I mean yes. It’s just...” It was ridiculous. This is crazy. “You’re saying that the ingredient is found on a sentient boulder that wants to kill me.”

Adopting the countenance of a wise sage imparting worldly knowledge onto their pupil, the Zora clasped their hands and set them gently on the shaking table. "Not quite a boulder. Picture it more as a hulking, moving, ah... mini mountain. Encased in ice.”

"And it wants to kill me."

"And it wants to kill you, yes.”

This was bad. She should say something. She could feel Revali’s eyes piercing into her back. Goddesses, Maiya. Get a grip!

Was talking to the Blacksmith really worth the risk of getting hurt? Forging swords, setting traps, and being semi-decent with her throwing knives for self-defence were nowhere near enough to qualify her as a monster-hunter. A rabbit, fine. But a rock monster more than quadruple her size? I must be delusional.

She scrubbed her face wearily. “What makes you think this is a good idea?”

“Well, I’m speaking to one of the last known Enchanters of Hyrule and the Pride of the Rito. Why, it should be a doddle with two living legends on the case.”

The two responses from said Enchanter and Rito came at the same time:

“I’m not a legend.”

“Pah, naturally.”

Maiya inhaled deeply. “Why don’t you help us fight it, then? Three against one would mean surefire success.”

The furnace behind them crackled, sending sparks into the air. It illuminated the iridescent shine of the zora’s scales, their many jewels glinting in the gloomy atmosphere of the forge. It was a little funny. In contrast to their surroundings, they looked like an angel who had wandered into the wrong afterlife.

Uleh mulled over her question, idly spinning the charcoal in their hand. Whilst their smile remained, there was a tenseness that wasn't present before. After a minute, they finally regarded her, golden eyes far away as they cleared their throat to reply. “It’s because—

A disgruntled sigh interrupted them. “Honestly, enchanter. Must I throw the rulebook at you? It’s rather shameless really, asking the other party to help fulfill your part of the agreement.”

Maiya whipped her head around, leaning back so fast her chair nearly tipped over. “Lecturing me on manners now? That’s rich coming from you, Rito.”

“Why, I don’t understand your meaning. I’ve been nothing but a gentleman this entire time.”

Running a hand through her unruly hair, she would have marched directly up to him to give him a piece of her mind if it wasn’t for Uleh holding her back. She whipped around to look at them, realizing she’d forgot to drop her glare when they nervously coughed and released their hold on her shoulder.

“Ah, um.” They idly ran a claw down the silver chain decorating the two flat fins that hung on the sides of their head like hair. “I’m sorry for interrupting whatever’s going on here. You’re both right, in a way. It’s logical that the chances of success would increase with extra hands. In fact, if I could lend you my aid I would, but…”

Shrinking back, they went quiet again, words bashful and barely audible. “I’m no good in a fight.”

Maiya stared at them quizzically. Growing up with Teacher had its many challenges. For one, the Sheikah could read most people with ease, be it a guilty child who had just scribbled on a newly painted white wall or even a fully grown, extremely stoic adult trying to cheat her out of what should be reasonably priced eggs. For a young Maiya, it made stretching the truth risky, and lying to her mentor out of the question.

Whilst she was no expert in body-language, spending most of her teenage years under her mentor’s watchful eye had taught her a few things about common tells. Maybe it was in the way the Zora’s golden eyes lost their gleam? Or in their sudden shyness. Either way, whilst they may have been sincere for most of the conversation previously, Uleh in that moment wasn’t telling the full truth.

She pressed the bottom of her palm to the aching spot above her brow. This was getting too complicated. Her chest ached from the stress. She winced when the rune bit at her skin. The pulse at her wrist felt strong under her fingers, beating out a warning call.

We’re wasting time. So what if they’re lying? Anything for Enchanting, right? Wasn't that the goal? To further or find what was lost whatever the price?

There was no point in turning back now. Pressing the issue wouldn’t change the fact that it would just be her, Revali, and this Talus tomorrow. If she wanted to meet the Blacksmith and actually have him listen to her demands, then this seems like the most direct option available. Beggars can’t be choosers, she already failed in uniting the Enchanted dagger with an owner. Teacher would never forgive her for letting go of a lead like this.

“Alright. Deal still stands.” She decided.

Standing up, Uleh raised their hands to the ceiling to stretch, the relaxed grin they had before returning to their face in full force. They leaned over the table, annotating a place in the map marking ‘West Rospro Pass’ before rolling it up and sealing it with a clip. “Well then, time and tide wait for no one.”

Maiya reached her hand out, jumping when a blue wing beat her to it, swiftly taking the map from the Zora’s hands.

Beside her, Revali rolled his shoulders. Seeing her annoyed expression, he lightly tapped the map on the top of her head, his feathers puffing up at his excitement to leave this hellish hot-box. “Careful, Hylian. Your face will get stuck if you keep frowning like that forever.” He said, poking her cheek with a pointed feather.

She couldn’t help the surprised squeak that escaped her mouth, Revali’s smirk growing even wider.

The fact that the feather pressed to her face was unbelievably soft pissed her off even moreso. She quickly swatted him away, face warming. “Buzz off,” she groused.

The Rito chuckled, but complied, withdrawing his wing to haughtily cross it with the other against his chest. “Tomorrow you’ll have front row seats to watch a true Master at work.”

The silence that followed made him sigh. He looked at her pointedly. “Would it kill you to be a bit more lively?”

“Yipee...”

“Amazing. Your sincere exuberance is truly heart-warming.”

She rolled her brown eyes as Uleh gave them both a thumbs up. The Zora's laughter, like chiming bells, filling the dark forge. It was infectious, and she couldn’t help but crack a tiny smile in return.

Perhaps tomorrow wouldn’t be so terrible after all.

Birdsong greeted Maiya as the night sky slowly brightened into a lavender hue, the first signs of dawn peaking over the horizon. She tiptoed down the outer staircase of Swallow’s Roost, careful not to wake the travellers who rested peacefully on the other side of the wall.

She rubbed her eyes, fighting back a yawn. Wisps of smoke left the tops of chimneys, chefs and bakers preparing their iron cook pots for another working day of feeding an entire village and more. A gust of wind brought the scent of charcoal and firewood, acidic and earthy...

— Fire. Burning. Melting feathers and flesh. An arrow piercing skin and muscle—

The Enchanter pressed her knuckles into her temples, attempting to relieve the pressure forcing her head to burst. Another night, another terrible sleep in Tabantha. She knew this wasn’t normal; these night terrors. Her bones ached from hours of tossing and turning, waking up in a cold sweat and forcing herself to relax, only to be met with the same dream once again. Perhaps when all of this was over, a visit to the village healer would be a good idea.

However, against her better judgement, there was something invigorating about the new day. This was crazy; mad! Teacher would never have allowed it had she been in the same room when the decision was made. And perhaps that was exactly why her stomach felt like it was doing dumb, excited flips, her mouth turning up at the edges.

This was her chance to prove herself, show her mentor how dedicated she was to the cause and her studies. It was a little unorthodox, but she was sure Teacher would understand once she comes home with new information. In fact, she could omit most of the details from the letter anyway and leave in the non-life threatening bits that won’t cause any alarm.

She nodded to herself, hands tightening around a relatively empty backpack. She patted down her front and sides to check that she had what she needed. Throwing knives, waterskin, materials for basic first-aid, and a hammer and chisel from Uleh to help her collect the ore pieces later.

“That’s everything, I think. As well as…”

Her fingers froze as they brushed the raised embellishments on the enchanted dagger’s hilt, reality running up to slap her in the face. Hands curling around it, she felt a torrent of shame wash over her. What was she doing? This wasn’t the time to act like an overexcited child. This was serious, so much was riding on her getting this right. And her mentor wouldn’t be happy if she were to fail. Wait. Her stomach dropped. What if I do fail?

What then? She wondered. Would she even be alive to report the bad news?

Sighing, she forced her hand away from the dagger, turning to look beyond the railing and into the world beyond. If anything, at least it was a beautiful morning.

A voice appeared to her right. “And where do you think you’re going?”

“Hylia’s left tit— ! Cheska!” She all but screamed, grabbing the railing in a death grip.

The innkeeper tipped her head inquisitively when a brief spark of blue flashed in her eyes.

“Uh!! Hello!” Maiya floundered. She hid her hand behind her back, feeling sweat build on her brow when Cheska’s eyes followed the action. “G-good morning. If this is about the late dinner you brought up last night, thank you so much! It was really, really good.”

She swallowed her spit, her nervousness still bubbling. “Not to say that your food isn’t always good. It’s just that I rarely eat fish. Not to say fish isn’t delicious. It’s just that where I live in Akkala we’re not really close to the sea so— ”

“Hylianlla! Slow-down.” The Rito laughed. “Jeez you are jumpy today. Take a deep breath. That’s it. In and out. Before the wind snatches it away— ah, I sound like my mother."

Cheska smiled warmly. Her rounded golden earrings reminded Maiya of two small suns, catching the light as she idly transferred the small paper package she held from one wing to another. “No worries, silly chickie. I’m always happy to feed a hungry traveller.”

The Hylian nodded, taking this as a sign that the conversation was over. She stepped to the side, moving to shuffle around the innkeeper, only for the Rito to block her path once again.

“However!” Her eyes sparkled. Maiya had a bad feeling about this. “What have you been up to yesterday that led to being dropped off by a mysterious and handsome blue-feathered stranger with the famous Great Eagle Bow?”

The Enchanter made a face. She was not mentally prepared to be having this conversation. “I can confirm that it’s not whatever you’re cooking up in that head of yours— and please stop wiggling your eyebrows!”

In an effort to distract herself from the blush that was snaking up her neck, her eyes strayed to the pink and orange sunrise above them, the clouds moving across the sky like white rolling waves. “As to what I’ve been doing. Well...not much really. Read a few books at the Archive. Got a tour of the village. Had a fight with the local blacksmith that led to striking a deal with the Zora that lives in the depths of the ancient rock supporting all of us right now.” She cringed at how crazy it sounded. “Did you know that by the way?"

“Uleh? Duh, they pass by from time to time.” She idly brushed a wing down one of her earrings. “We have the best chats. But tell me more about this tour!”

Despite the stress weighing on her mind, the Enchanter laughed, digging her hands in her pockets. “Of all the things...judging from your description I think you already know who this mysterious stranger is. Wouldn’t recommend it, but he’s all yours.”

“He’s all…” Cheska paused, voice breaking. She stood still, expression rapidly switching from confusion, realisation, to deep and feather-raising mortification.

Tilting forward, she began to giggle. Maiya stepped back in surprise, watching it transition into full blown laughter. “Uh, Cheska?”

The Rito doubled over and slapped a wing over her beak. “Revali?! Ha HA! Qoyllur-cha?” She sucked in a shaky breath, before dissolving into peals of incredulous laughter once again. “Heck no, amiha. I’m sure Mr. Grumpy is well and truly enamored with himself anyway.” The innkeeper wiped a tear from her eye. “Ah, Blessed Nayru. You’re a hoot!”

“Right,” Maiya said slowly, cheeks reddening at her social blunder. “Are you finished yet?”

“Yes,” the Rito snorted. “Okay I’m done. For real. I’m sorry!”

Forcing herself to keep a straight-face, Cheska shook her head, composing herself. “Goddesses. You just caught me by surprise is all. I’m recovering after an old friend showed up to the village yesterday. Big fiesta, great fun even though I couldn’t stay too long.

Jini brought out the good pisco this time.”

She smiled at Maiya’s blank expression, unperturbed by the lack of an equally excited response. Stepping back, she offered the Hylian the package she’d been holding on to. “Anyway, on a completely unrelated note, that mysterious blue Rito stopped by to leave this for you before dawn this morning.”

The Enchanter looked at the brown-paper package. She wondered if it was a good time to open it, but could feel Cheska’s poorly hidden curiosity bearing down on her. Might as well. Without much hesitation, she pulled on the thin rope holding it together.

A piece of cloth fell into her waiting hand.

It was a bandana. Dyed an azure blue, it reminded her of clear summer skies and the blue nightshades that glowed in her mentor’s study. Running her thumb over the soft fabric, she found that whilst it was simple and unpatterned, it was soft and very well-made. Unfolding it, a delicate piece of paper fell out, fluttering to the floor before she caught it.

She smiled, wondering if this was the prideful Rito’s version of an apology. Unbeknownst to her, her heart warmed at the thought.

Maiya quickly read the note:

So your haphazard hair doesn’t endanger us today - Revali.

The Hylian scowled, crumpling the message and stuffing it in her pocket. “Why am I so surprised?” She muttered. Despite her ire, she delicately smoothed out the blue bandana in her hand, pulling it around her hair and knotting it with irate conviction.

Saying a quick “Thank you and Good Morning” to the innkeeper, she began to angrily brisk walk up the village stairs.

Cheska waved her goodbye. “And where are you off to now, hylianlla?”

“I’m going to fight a Frost Talus.” She called over her shoulder casually.

“You’re what?!”

“Bye, Cheska!”

Revali was already waiting for her at the top of the stairs. He tapped his talons on the ground, leaning impatiently against the archway. The armour he had on the day they first met was fitted securely around his form, slightly hidden away by a flowing white scarf wrapped snug around his neck.

His back was to the sun, making it necessary for her to shield her eyes as she approached. Whilst there was no royalty amongst the Rito, he looked every bit like an irritable prince as light streamed from the heavens behind him.

His honeyed, infuriating voice called out to her as soon as he saw her hand leave the banister.

“You’re late.”

Maiya wordlessly tossed an object at him, the Rito Warrior snatching it from the air with ease. He looked down at the warm pastry that nearly hit him in the face, its icing topping and cinnamon scent unmistakeable. “A sweetroll?”

“Breakfast.” The Enchanter said, falling into step beside him as they walked down the ramp and onto the expansive launch point. The breeze was strong from this open landing, the battered wind markers around them whipping chaotically in the open air. These were the kind of conditions favourable to sailors, carrying amazing wooden creations to places unknown.

And I guess Rito as well, she thought, narrowly avoiding a tall, orange-feathered figure that landed a few feet away. Maiya righted herself, nearly stumbling backwards in surprise.

"Sorry, chika!" They called out, stepping around her quickly and making a beeline for the stairs.

The Hylian looked on in bewilderment, tugging a little self-consciously on her bandana as she turned back to face the archer. “What the...ah, anyway. I was on my way here when I realised I hadn’t eaten yet. Decided to stop by the bakery.”

Revali took a bite from the roll, making a small hum in approval before reaching into the utility pouch attached to his belt. Pulling out a glass vial, he passed it to the Enchanter. “My thanks then, as well as your payment.”

“What’s this?” She asked, narrowing her eyes at the vermillion liquid within. She uncorked the stopper and took a whiff of the unknown substance. It was pungent and sharp, making her pull away.

“Spicy Elixir. So you, pardon my bluntness, avoid freezing your pointed ears off whilst we’re traversing through the mountains.”

Maiya smelled it again, wrinkling her nose.

Revali tut-tted, though his eyes gleamed with barely hidden amusement. That bastard. “I don’t want to hear any complaints. The arctic chill is merciless. You need to drink it if you plan to keep all your limbs intact.”

She looked at the Spicy Elixir again, watching the dubious liquid slosh to the side—Oh Hylia, is that a butterfly wing?— before throwing it back as one would a shot. The warmth that came was instantaneous, as if an invisible force had suddenly encased her. It wrapped around her in the same way a blanket that had been left to heat close to the fireplace would. She was filled with a renewed sense of energy and realised then how cold her joints really were even in her heaviest of clothes.

Revali chuckled.

She opened her eyes, the curve of her mouth falling into a frown. “Care to share?”

“Not that I was speaking any falsehoods regarding the warming effects of the elixir but,” he smiled crookedly, shaking his head. “You trust too easily, Hylian.” Securing his bow to his front, he faced north and crouched.

Her brow twitched. “Me? Trust you?” Maiya shot back defensively as she hoisted herself up, minding this time not to grab on too tightly onto any feathers. “When Death Mountain freezes over.”

Deep breaths and reign in the attitude was what she told herself as they left the landing. The drop still terrified her, her chest sinking to her knees everytime Revali so much as bobbed with the wind. She was thankful at least that the weather was favourable enough that he chose to forego the dive. Instead, he caught the gale with his outstretched wings, flapping and gaining height as they progressed forward.

Some adventurers on horseback looked up as they passed, many of them gaping in awe at the blue feathered warrior who sailed above them. Revali made no comment, head facing forward and beak an impassive line. Though the subtle fluff to his feathers gave him away, betraying the fact that he was basking in the attention.

Behind her, Rito Village became smaller with every passing minute, slowly disappearing behind the clouds until even the largest windmill was but a wink in the distance. Glittering waters turned into grassy forests as flat ground made way to grey rocks and white tipped bushes.

Revali’s wings caught a strong gust of wind, gaining speed as he advanced them forward through to the Hebra Mountains. Clouds parted, the white shroud slowly lifting to reveal a whole different world.

She felt like they were flying amongst giants. White capped peaks dominated the landscape from all directions, filling her peripheries and extending out into the distance. Reduced visibility combined with the blinding ivory void made it seem like it could go on forever. She’d never seen mountains like this before.

The wind also sounded different here. She would have thought that as a Rito, perpetually at mercy to the gale, he would find it troubling. Between these icy mountains it was wild and unruly, every gust pushing into them from different directions. However, as they ventured deeper into Hebra, it became apparent that Revali felt no fear.

If the breeze slammed into them at full force, he always knew just how to angle himself. Tilting, flapping, flying—anything to propel himself higher and further than ever before.

When it rebelled, he would soothe it. When it dropped away, he would easily reclaim it.

And when it calmed, a steady push against his wings, he would truly soar.

It was a literal breath of fresh air. Maiya could have sworn she was dreaming, still asleep in her room at Cheska’s inn. Up in the air, Revali was far from the gloating asshole who had nearly killed her with an arrow and never apologised. At this moment, he was quiet and precise, riding the gale like he was born amongst the clouds.

They flew behind one of the many snowy peaks, an empty mountain pass coming into view. Keeping close to the exposed mountain face at their left, Revali began to slow, aiming for a far-away spot jutting out perpendicular to the cliffside.

Landing on a slab of extended rock, he gestured for her to sit down, surprising her when he did the same.

The Hylian tried not to look down. They were suspended about 50 feet above the ground. Wind sifted through her hair, dancing around them and lightly ruffling the feathers along his side. She took this time to catch her breath, the mountain air surprising her with its sweetness. Vaguely she could detect the scent of the pine sticking up like pillars in the pure-white snow underneath them.

Temporarily shutting her eyes, she focused on her other senses. Cold rock underneath her fingers. Whistles from the wind. The smell of the pine trees mingling with something else. Wax and oak, with a hint of honey. She racked her brain for a reason why such an odd combination was now familiar to her.

Something cold touched her nose.

Maiya opened her eyes. She watched as snowflakes fell from the sky, imprinting temporary patterns on her clothes and melting on her exposed skin.

Then, like most times, panic decided to reel in its ugly head from out of nowhere.

Now seated and breath returning to her lungs, deep trepidation filled her. One scenario came after another, joining together and mixing into a single, big clusterfuck of a ‘what-if?’ What if she couldn’t fight? What if her knives never found purchase?

What if she froze? She could see the moment playing out clear as day. The fear would paralyze her. Glued to the ground with an angry Talus rushing towards her. Stuck in place until she was crushed underfoot like a bug.

“Stop that.”

Maiya turned to see that Revali had taken out his bow, running a feather down the gears. It was an intricate weapon, painted a steadfast dark-blue and embellished with geometric patterns along its sides.

“Stop what?”

“Thinking so loudly.” He explained, grunting with effort when he tightened a screw.

Her eye twitched in annoyance at his tone. Must he always pick a fight with me? She frowned indignantly. “I’m not allowed to plan ahead?”

“You call that planning?" He scoffed. "Don’t fool yourself, enchanter. I’m not blind. You’re running your mind ragged again, overly ruminating on imaginary events that have yet come to pass.”

He began to adjust the bow’s string, running a feather down its side. “If you continue looking behind only to lose your head in the endless possibilities of potential threats, then you are defenseless to the already existing enemy running towards you. Expecting to survive like that is foolish. You will be better off fighting with your eyes closed.”

He set the bow down on his lap, training his full attention onto her. Her breath hitched. She found herself at the mercy of eyes a deep, emerald green. Piercing and sharper than any of the knives she was carrying, not a single detail escaping his notice.

“You will not be able to face your opponent effectively if you keep battling yourself. Truly look at what’s in front of you. Do that properly, and you will not miss.”

The Enchanter was silent, still feeling very much pinned under the intensity of his gaze. He’d only known her for a day or two and had already managed to find the holes in her armour, striking at them with such precise accuracy that she didn’t know whether she should thank him for the honest assessment, or push him off the ledge for his blatant rudeness and reading of her character. Her hand twitched as the rune sent a jolt up her arm, dancing along to the erratic beat of her heart.

But why…, she found herself wondering, unable to stop herself from staring back. Unknowingly, she leaned forward ever so slightly, flecks of snow falling around them. Why is he looking at me like that?

The mountainside shuddered, making them both jolt up in surprise. Hurriedly, she rushed to the edge of the short rock platform, the tension on her shoulders tightening in a vice grip at what she saw below.

It was colossal. Terrifying to the point where it almost crossed over the line to awe-inspiring by the sheer characteristic of its size. Rising from the earth, it shook and shuddered as if possessed, hobbling forward and slamming its gargantuan stone fists into the snow covered forest floor with so much force that it shook the mountain and their platform once again. From her vantage point, she could see the piece of ore at the top of its head, sparkling in the morning light like a jewel on a crown.

When the Talus’ hands came away from the ground, Maiya saw that they were coated in red. Not blood, she thought, too pink and thick. Though the longer she looked, she noticed the same pinkish red substance coating its body in different places. On its bare face, along its leg, all across its rock appendages. It flowed and bubbled, creeping along the Talus’ body like a parasitic weed, dripping like acidic rain and melting the pure white snow below.

Uleh did not mention that.

She coughed, her throat suddenly dry and scratchy. “I think that’s our target.”

Revali exhaled a small cloud of air, unbothered. “Hm? That’s new. I thought we would have to lure it up from the ground. Seems it has done most of the work for us.” He pointed to the quiver of arrows on his back, some arrowheads curled and shaped to resemble a single flame. “It will go down easy with a few of these in its body. After all, a monster that relies solely on a barrier of ice stands no chance against the blaze of fire.”

He stood up, brushing the snow from his shoulder, a futile gesture as more began to rain down anyway. “No rush, it won’t be able to see us from up here.” He tapped the rock floor with his talons. “It uses the vibrations in the ground to make an ‘educated’ guess as to where its victim would be. From our vantage point, it’s like we don’t even exist.”

She tilted her head to the side, watching the Talus amble and sway from left to right, still feeling apprehensive at how relaxed Revali was in this situation. Warriors really are something else.

He brought the bow to his front, stretching his wings to the sky like he was about to go for a leisurely run and not, well, fight a rock monster that would crush you if you so much as sneezed on it. “Well then, enchanter. I do hope this seat provides you with an adequate view for the show this morning. Just sit back and get comfortable.”

Maiya stood and stalked towards him, not caring that she was invading his personal space as she stabbed a finger into his chestplate. “Get comfortable? What are you talking about?”

He took advantage of the height difference, looking down at her past the tip of his beak like he was appraising a petulant child. “You honestly believe I would let you fight that thing?”

She wanted to rip her hair out. “This venture is purely for my benefit, I am not letting you do all the dirty-work while I sit on my ass and watch like some useless piece of shi-”

The ground shuddered again. Both barely had time to react when a boulder was sent flying in their direction.

She blinked, suddenly finding herself gripping onto Revali’s front as they hurtled to the ground below. The Rito Warrior somersaulted in the air, the seconds of uncontrolled flight and pure free fall eating up the scream bubbling in her throat.

Then, his wings were outstretched, miraculously by the Goddess' grace catching the wind, slowing their descent before they hit the snow covered ground with a painful thud.

Her brain rattled, eyes fluttering and struggling to clear the fog blocking her vision. Her ears rang as she heaved in a breath, the very action making her cry out in pain. Her ribs hurt. Her hand...her hand was—!!

Shattered rocks rained above them. The Enchanter yelped, Revali’s voice loud in her ear as he gasped in alarm, wrapping his wings around her and rolling them to the side just as a large chunk of what used to be their platform stabbed into the spot where their bodies were half a second ago.

The Rito released his hold on her, standing up and equipping his bow in a single fluid motion. Through the haze of her clouded vision, she watched as he took aim, pulled the bowstring back and fired.

It surprised her how a monster without a mouth could make such a chilling sound. Cracking rock and a screech so glaringly inhuman reached her ears, making her blood run cold.

There was truly no turning back now.

In the next moment, her arm found itself in a vice grip as Revali hauled her to her feet, pulling her along as they sought cover in a nearby sparse grove of trees. Chest heaving, her brain struggled to catch up to what had just transpired. Barely, it managed to process the feeling of blue feathered wings running down her arms, tilting her head from left to right and brushing the hair away from her eyes.

“W-what are you doing?”

“Checking for injuries.” He said tersely. “Where are we?”

“Huh?”

Head snapping up, his eyes once again commanded her undivided attention. They were the same emeralds as before, except this time completely void of any kind of relaxed confidence, replaced now by a sharp focus and a clinical detachedness that made her stomach clench. “Hylian, do you know where we are right now?”

“Rospro Pass.” She said, remembering the words on Uleh’s map.

“Good. Did anything hurt when we were running towards the trees?”

Maiya blinked quickly. “No. Oh, well actually— fuck!” She screamed, hands slapping Revali’s wing away as she pulled her arms in to wrap around her aching torso. Her left hand shook and spasmed, strings of energy rattling through her veins like barbed wire cutting into her skin. This was too much. Mortifyingly, tears sprang up in the corner of her eyes. She’d been through much, much worse, but no matter how many times her rune had tortured her, pain is no different. Feeling something stuck in her throat, she spat it out to the side, a glob of fresh blood hitting the snow.

“Sorry,” Revali said quickly. “I need you to move your arms away.” With a little more prying, she agreed, too caught up in her panic for herself and the active and angry rune in her hand to feel embarrassed that he was lifting up the edge of her shirt, his wing poking the reddened, inflamed skin above her ribs as she hissed.

“One of them is fractured, but not severe enough to pierce the skin or anything important internally. At least from what I can see. Can you take some short breaths for me?”

She nodded, wincing at the sound of her wheeze.

“Then you’ll live.” Both their heads shot up to the direction of the same otherworldly screech from before, echoing not too far away from their current position. “Tch,” the Rito archer straightened up, reaching into one of his side pouches and pulling out a wide bandage. He made quick work of wrapping it around her middle, tying the knot and yanking her shirt back down. “You need to run away, enchanter. Follow the path down the mountain, there’s a guard post at the foot. Tell them to bring reinforcements.”

She glared at him, eyes red and venomous. “No! Not without you. I already told you, Rito, this is my mess and I am seeing it through.”

“We don’t have time for this,” he muttered, frantically scanning the clearing for some other kind of cover and coming up blank. “I’m still unsure as to what it is, but there is something wrong with this Talus. I’ve fought only two previous but I am confident that this one is different. It’s faster—smarter somehow.”

“And it can see us.”

“Yes, either through sheer dumb luck or something else entirely. Its movements are unpredictable. Almost like it’s being controlled from the sidelines.” He gritted out, annoyance shining clear at having to solve such a puzzle under immense pressure. He swiped the fallen snow away from his eyes, growling.

She directed her gaze to the floor, focusing on the patch of red seeping into the snow by her feet. Her blood was a stain against what was once uniform purity. Another roar echoed through the trees, this time accompanied by the crash of heavy footsteps, dragging through the snow. “I know you’re one of the best of your people, but even then there’s no way you can hold it back for that long without getting hurt.” She tried to reason.

Revali shook his head, squeezing her shoulder before turning to bolt past the grove. “I’ll distract it. Run!”

“Wait!” She reached out to pull him back, but her hand was met with only empty air. Pure dread stole the breath from her lungs as she watched him exit out the trees and into the open clearing where the Talus waited to meet him. Another jolt of pain rocketed through her hand. Combined with the stabbing ache in her chest it was almost unbearable. She inhaled shakily, moving forward and following the tracks that Revali’s talons had made on the ground, fighting for her eyes to stay open as she stumbled out into the light.

Snow lightly fell from the sky, brushing down azure feathers that fluffed at the edges as Revali levelled his bow. He fired three in quick succession, cutting a red line through the air like a shooting star. Each sunk into the Talus’ icy exterior, melting patches with a low hiss and exposing the black rock underneath.

Falling forward, the monster sunk back into the ground. Revali took advantage of the situation, sprinting away towards the cliff face to gain more distance.

Maiya took this chance to move as well, footsteps sinking into the snowy ground as she struggled forward in the direction of the Talus. The ground shuddered again as she launched herself at it, a knife in each hand. She dug the blades into its exposed interior, holding on for dear life as she scrambled to gain purchase.

“What are you doing?!” A frantic, angry voice yelled out.

“Fire more arrows!” Bracing her feet on the Talus’ surface, she took a chance and let go of one of her improvised hand holds, grabbing another knife from her bandolier and swinging it up to stab it into the last open patch of rock. She hoisted herself up, screaming out in agony but nonetheless refusing to let go. “Please!” She called out, feet slipping against the rock’s surface.

Something whistled past her ear. An arrow embedded itself into the space above her, rapidly evaporating the ice. Then came another, and another, marking a pathway up to the Talus’ zenith. Again she freed her opposite hand, fractured ribs shifting and aching as she stabbed a dagger upwards, pulling herself closer to the ore.

The strange parasitic pink substance flowed down next to her, emitting a stench of rot that made her gag. Carefully she maneuvered around it, not wanting to find out for herself what would happen if even the skin of her hand were to brush it.

Continuing to climb, she struggled against another monster, one intent on taking full control of her wavering resolve. It was a beast formed of intense fear and regret, tugging at her mind and causing her hold to grow shakier with every passing minute. Why didn’t you run away?! It roared.

The thud of another arrow spurred her forward, her adrenaline running high as she devoted her focus solely to reaching the top.

Almost there. For a moment, she could finally see the ore’s surface, shining only an arm’s length away from her. Maiya reached again for her bandolier, shaking fingers brushing an empty pocket.

“Fuck sakes,” she cursed. She was out of knives.

Clouds of air escaped her mouth as she leaned her head on the monster’s surface, an intense feeling of hopelessness freezing her movements. Everything felt heavy, the swinging scabbard at her hip weighing her down and threatening to weaken her hold on her knife.

Wait, there’s still...

Her hand drifted down to where the enchanted dagger was sheathed. In response, the rune spasmed, sending a shock through her veins in disagreement as if it knew exactly what she was going to do.

Not once did Teacher mention what would happen if she were to use an enchanted weapon of her own make. She was neither Master nor an unworthy stranger. So many things could go wrong. Would it kill her? Would it even work? What would happen if—!

Underneath her, the Talus shuddered.

Her heart skipped a beat.

Slowly, the surface began to move, lifting itself from the snow. All around her, the parasitic fluid coating its body came alive, calling out in celebration. Several arrows rained down from the sky, piercing into the Talus’ armour but failing to deter it from its course. The monster began to stand.

Maiya unbuckled the enchanted dagger from its scabbard. Grabbing the hilt, she lifted it up, and with all the strength in her body, swung up and stabbed it into the Talus’ ore.

There was a flash of light, an ear piercing screech, and suddenly she was in the air again.

It was like a bad dream. She could see the white ground hurtling towards her. Curling into herself, she braced just in time before her body collided with the snow. Something solid hit her head, rattling her brain and causing her world to turn black.

Wa…ke…!

Fire. Everything was on fire. She was drowning in a sea of fleeing people, ribbons of smoke were filling her lungs and the smell of burning and rot was choking her. A blood moon was in the sky.

Wa...ke….p

A figure was standing at the doorway of a crumbling house, calling out to her. Their feathers were burnt, dissipating into ashes as the skin underneath began to melt to the bone.

“I’m sorry, there are too many people!” She tried to scream, voice refusing to leave her lips as she fought helplessly against the tide. “Don’t just stand there! You need to run! I can’t— ”

A lilting voice, warm as sunlight, whispered in her ear.

“Hylianlla. Please. Wake up.”

In a disorienting second, her surroundings slammed back into place. Maiya sucked in a shaky breath, her cheek throbbing. Cold snow melted underneath her, seeping into her clothes and stinging like a thousand needles pressing into her skin.

The ground began to shake. A familiar voice was calling out to her. “Get up! Valloo damnit, enchanter! Stand!”

Every vein, every cell and atom in her bruised body cried out. She wanted to go back to sleep. This was too much.

Weakly, she rolled onto her stomach, the pain in her ribs causing her eyes to snap open. Coughing, she spat more blood onto the snow, her arms and knees shaking as she slowly began to stand.

She’d been thrown into the midst of an earthquake. Dazed, her head lolled upwards, watching in frozen horror as the Talus barrelled towards her, its heavy steps falling in time to the shuddering of the world underneath her feet.

Behind it, Revali furiously loosed arrow after arrow. Not one missed their mark, but not a single shot had managed to melt through its ice encasing. Belatedly, she realised that the archer had run out of fire arrows. The odds were stacked against them.

Yelling, she threw herself to the side, dodging a giant rock hurled in her direction. Desperately, she scrambled back onto her feet, avoiding one stone after another by the skin of her teeth. The monster continued to gain on her, quickly closing the distance between them.

Maiya blinked away the sweat from her eyes, the fear in her heart that had kept her alive for this long gradually losing its hold over her to the pull of fatigue. If she devoted herself to running, she wouldn’t be able to avoid the Talus’ attacks. If she slowed her run to focus on dodging, it would catch up to her in seconds.

I’m not going to make it.

Mind reeling, she didn’t notice the rock jutting up behind her. She tripped, falling face first into the snow. The monster shrieked in delight. Shaking violently, she tried to stand again, falling back down as the muscles in her legs seized from overuse.

The Talus was but a metre away at this point. Even if she tried, she wouldn’t be able to outrun it. A rare moment of peace settled over her as she slowly stood up.

If she were to die here, she wouldn’t die lying down.

As the monster approached, she managed to catch the glint of her enchanted dagger still embedded into the cracking ore. It was uncontrolled, spewing out flames in an unfettered act of rage. Her greatest creation was violent and angry, but the Talus remained unshaken. It would take days for it to make a noticeable dent.

What have I done?

Standing her ground, she watched as the Talus raised its fists to the sky, blocking out the sun as it readied itself to slam down and put an end to her life. She didn’t know what to think. Light escaped from the seams of her glove, the rune all but bursting into flames. Hylia, did it hurt. But it didn’t matter. This would all be over soon.

She kept her eyes open, making a quiet wish somewhere deep in her tired soul that despite all the odds stacked against them, Revali would escape.

A streak of red sailed through the sky.

Equal parts shocked and horrified, Maiya watched as the Talus’ movements suddenly came to a halting stop. All reality slowed. Rock arms, once raised high as a terrifying monument to her mortality, dropped to its sides as it turned around.

Facing completely away from her, the monster directed its attention to the Rito archer behind it, revealing to the Enchanter the single fire arrow protruding from its back.

Revali dropped his bow, every one of his arrows completely expended. Out of options, he unsheathed the hunter’s knife strapped to his belt, gripping it tightly between both his wings. “Hey, blockhead!” He called out, beak curved up in a mocking, open smile. “Face me.”

The repulsive pink parasite bubbled and writhed, releasing a vile, high-pitched wail. Its host shuddered to life, starting forward and dragging its hulking body along the snow in the direction of the Pride of the Rito.

Her body moved on its own.

West Rospro Pass melted into a mess of sound and colour. The pain that rippled through her chest, the frustration, the fear; all of it blended together and were cast aside as every fibre in her being rallied and converged on a single goal.

Nothing mattered beyond Getting. There. First.

Bringing her hand to her mouth, she sank her teeth into the glove, ripping it away. Energy sparked and crackled underneath her skin. Beams of blue light spilled from her scar, warming the surface of her cheek and begging for release.

“YOU STUPID BIRD!”

Revali lifted his head, green eyes stunned when he saw the Hylian sprinting closer.

The earth trembled as the Talus neared. In a last ditch effort she grabbed the Rito by his white scarf, yanking him behind her and placing herself between him and the path of the monster.

It was only steps away now, close enough for her to feel the chill of the ice on the tip of her nose. Operating on pure instinct, she raised her left arm, trying not to flinch as the shadow of the Talus’ form fell over the both of them.

Panic seized her unexpectedly. She was dumped into the ocean again and rapidly sinking, struggling to keep her head above the waves as the storm thrashed mercilessly around her.

Caught in the undertow, she fought to stay afloat.

This is my fault.

I did this.

I can’t let him die.

I can’t let him die!

I can’t—

Someone held her shoulder. Warm breath fanned the hairs on the back of her neck. Revali’s voice, lacking its usual sardonic edge, was but a gentle whisper on her skin, piercing through the water and pulling her up from the depths.

“Maiya.” He said, grounding her.

Without another thought, she plunged her glowing arm into the core of the Frost Talus. The parasite screamed and thrashed in alarm. For the first time in her life, she allowed herself to let go, letting the pull of the rune take over.

Her outstretched hand sunk past the ice with ease, beams of blue light escaping through the cracks of the rock and illuminating the Pass.

In mere seconds, her vision was full of nothing but fire. The Frost Talus, in its unfathomable enormity, was lost and overtaken in the light of the flames.

#revali #revali botw #revali x oc #botw #breath of the wild #legend of zelda #loz #botw fanfiction #rito #rito botw #botw fic #fanfiction #writing #maiya botw #firebird botw

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mistabullets · 5 years ago

Note

can i please request a scenario? 🥺 i was thinking of something like 18-21 y/o kakyoin who gets a new, attractive older neighbor and he just keeps looking for excuses to be around her? (and then m a y b e she repays him for all his help?)

ok guess i’ll heard y’all loud and clear! have your milf hunter kakyoin :3

NOTE: all characters are aged up! cw includes age gap (think 5+ years tho), fem pronouns, afab reader, alcohol mention, drinking, eating out, fingering, vaginal sex, drunk sex, praising

Not SFW under cut ;

“Good grief, why are you always trying to get with old hags?” Jotaro questioned.

When Kakyoin first laid eyes on you, his new neighbor, discussing with the landlord about the terms and agreement, he was instantly captivated by your beauty. The redhead boy was eyeing you from outside his balcony, enjoying the pleasant spring afternoon and the view you had to offer. He noticed the way you batted your lashes and how well the red lipstick suited your plump lips. The dress you had been wearing that particular day showed off the swell of your ass along with a slight cleavage, a promising view of your bigger breasts. You had certainly made his day and you didn’t even know it.

Two weeks later, Kakyoin notices you were finally moving into the empty apartment right next to his. With no lewd intentions behind his generous offer, he introduces himself as your next-door neighbor and offers to carry some of the heavier boxes, up and down the stairs. You are truly relieved since had some slight aches and pains already from preparing and packing up for your new home all by yourself. The two of you begin unloading the rental truck, which took about a good hour or two. Not that the younger man minds, since each time he trailed behind you, ascending the stairs, he has a great view of your butt. The sway of your hips is almost similar to the swing of a pendulum, spellbinding, to the point he has to control his gaze and not be caught in hypnosis.

Finally, the work is all done and boxes are settled in corners, furniture in their designated spots. You decide to order some pizza and share with Kakyoin, as thanks for all his hard work, despite just having met today. You get to know your new neighbor and friend during dinner; he’s a college student who had explored a lot as a teenager, having seen most of the world. Now, he and his best friend of four years, Jotaro, are studying at the local university; he’s currently in his junior year and halfway through in receiving a bachelor’s in Game Design. You’re impressed by his passion, saying he must be smart to be able to learn the complicated knowledge of technology and the dedicated art skill needed for video games. And Kakyoin learns a bit about you as well. Apparently, you moved because of a recent job offer, already had a degree under your belt, and you were seven years his senior. You had even been married at one point but divorced the scum over half a year ago! The younger man is surprised when he realizes you are close to hitting your thirties, believing you were at least in your early to mid-twenties. You take it as a compliment though, lucky that you have no grey hair yet to appear, despite the stress that had accumulated.

Over the next few weeks, Kakyoin helps you settle into your home. He gives you directions to wherever you need to go, helps you unpack a variety of clothes, cooking utensils, shower curtains, the bed frame, and even more furniture. The man is even kind enough to help with laundry and help set up the new computer that you had purchased recently. In return, you begin cooking meals for your young neighbor and his roommate. You have tried to offer him some money before but he always declines it, saying it was just him lending a helping hand to someone who needs it. What a sweet boy, I wish my ex would have been so kind like him, you would think to yourself.

Eventually, the two of you became close friends. You would invite him over for drinks and dinner after work. Sometimes, Jotaro would be there too, but he had no interest in hanging out with older women, always muttering “good grief” when you would burst into a fit of laughter after the redhead would tell a cheesy joke.

Tonight is a repeat of that.

You let out a snort, doubling over, “O-Oh geez, that’s a good one, Kak-kun!”

It is you, Kakyoin, and Jotaro playing a new game on the Nintendo 64. However, alcohol is in the mix, and both you and the redhead man are a bit too tipsy. Jotaro, annoyed by his friends’ antics, leaves the party of three, saying he has to get up early in the morning. Jotaro wonders if it is a good idea to depart, knowing his friend has a huge crush on you and it could lead to something messy. But he concludes, after interacting with you for the past month, there’s always a glint in your eyes when Kakyoin is around. Jotaro’s curious to see where it would eventually lead to. He utters a simple bye before telling his roommate he will leave the door unlocked if anyone needs him.

The soft click of the door closing indicates the party of three just turned into a party of two. Now, it is just you and Kakyoin now, still giggling over whatever nonsense had you howling. Once you manage to gain a semblance of composure, you tell the redhead that you want to watch a new movie you had bought recently. You toss the box at him, to see the cover. The man is intrigued after reading the back of the VHS box. After stating his interest, he slips the cassette into the player. After making some adjustments to the TV settings and pressing the button to play the movie, Kakyoin curls up right beside you on the couch. For right now, his attention is on the television screen, anticipating the horror sequences for Silence of the Lambs. But after about halfway into the movie, he notices how with each jump scare or the buildup of a scene, you would scoot yourself, as if seeking some sort of protection. Eventually, the boy, with warm drunken courage, lazily wraps one of his arms around your frame, holding you tight when the suspension broke within each scene.

As the credits rolls, you look up at your fellow movie-goer, slightly less intoxicated and realize his hand had slipped down to your waist during the course of the movie. An idea comes forth from the remainder of your inebriated and primitive mind, eyeing the young man beside you. You register, that you like Kakyoin a lot more than you originally thought. He’s mature for his age, super smart, and you bet he had some youthful vigor to him, right? With a stupid yet dazzlingly grin spreading across your delicious lips, you reach out to touch one of Kakyoin’s cheeks, rubbing it tenderly, a heated blush already radiating.

“Y-Y/N? What is it?” he asks, slight confusion in his voice. He always assumed you were into older men, or at least someone your age.

With drunken stupor, you giggle, “Oh nothing Kak, just realized how cute you are… like, really cute.”

You could feel the blush burn the palm of your hand even more, “Oh, really now?” the boy prods, his lush thoughts spiking a nerve in him, finding a renowned boldness.

“Yeah, I… I don’t know, just kind of wanna kiss you. Would that be okay?” now you are flushing as you took note of how Kakyoin’s lavender orbs scan your body and the position you are currently in. The faint scent of beer from your breath tickles his nostrils and he finally sees just how inviting your pretty lips are, even without the lipstick applied on. Your eyes long from him, even in the darkness with the faint glow of the menu screen. Without any more hesitation, he seals you in an experimental kiss. You gasp into his mouth but soon welcome the taste of fermented booze and cherry-flavored chap-stick. Soon, his tongue slips into your mouth and he tastes even more of you; it is more intoxicating than the beer the both of you shared earlier. After a minute or two of this developing make-out session, his soft lips peels away from yours; both of you need to catch your breath, to process what was going on. But you could sense both of you wanted more, by how flushed your cheeks are and the lust dancing in his pupils. You decide to make the next move, being the more experienced one, by straddling his lap. You lock lips again.

One thing leads to another. Eventually, the redhead underneath you unbuttons your blouse, throwing it into some forgotten corner of your living room. Kisses and loves bites are littered on the side of your neck, down to your left breast. Wanting more of his touch, you reach from behind and unhook the bra hook, revealing your ample tits. Kakyoin allows himself a moment to admire the softness, how bouncy they look, and how delicious your nipples look. Experimentally, he reaches for one breast while he leans in and gives the unattended nipple a lick. You grab a hold of both shoulders as Kakyoin stops being experimental and more precise with technique. What was the last time you felt this good? And god, you feel your panties are already soaked as the young man pinches your hardening buds. “O-Oh god, Kak-kun, y-yes, good boy, you’re doing such a good job~”

Encouraged, the boy slides one of his hand from your chest, slithering his warm digits against your belly until he reaches your groin and the hem of your pants. He reaches further down, slipping his hand into your jeans and feeling to lacy undergarments you are wearing. You edge him to go further, wanting to feel his thick fingers inside of you already. “Right there, Kak~” you plead, as the boy peppers kisses into your neck and shoulder. He happily fulfills your request, exploring southward, passing your trimmed bush before being invited by the welcoming slit of your wet pussy. However, Kakyoin has an even better idea. Without warning, he grabs you by the waist and gently throws you onto the couch. Now he’s on top of you, gaining control.

You elicit a gasp, slightly taken aback by his boldness, “Oh my, Kakyoin…”He pulls down your jeans along with your panties, and now you’re fully naked before the younger man as he drinks in the sight of your sexy figure. He reaches for the hem of his shirt and throws it off. You can’t help but also admire the defined muscles of his abdomen, the heave of his chest from all the excitement, and the bulge growing more prominent with each passing moment. Your focus is turned back to Kakyoin, as he opens up your legs and nestles into the apex of your thighs. “Please, Y/N, call me Noriaki,” he says before dipping his face to your sex, spreading apart your pussy to reveal your glistening pussy and your needy clit. He admires it for a moment, before his tongue curiously laps over your exposed entrance, the tip of it probing at your sensitive nub. Instinctively, you reach to grab a hand fist full of crimson locks, particularly his side bang. “Noriaki, r-right there… lick my clit again, please…!”

And after a few more licks, he finally gets the hang of it all, your voice guidance to how to properly eat out a woman. Your ex would rarely go down on you despite how often he would demand blowjobs… and when he did go down, he would complain about how you needed to look good and clean yourself up. However, Kakyoin is obsessed with the musky, feminine scent of you and drinks your juices like a man who hasn’t had water in days. While he’s not exactly experienced compared to Jotaro, his eagerness to please makes up for it. He rests one hand on your inner thigh while he decides to further tease your entrance. He index and middle finger presses up against your core and sinks in. You let out a moan, not prepared for the intrusion but once they are adjusted, buried to the hilt, you begin to welcome the sturdy digits inside of you. And Kakyoin enjoys the wet warmth swallowing up his fingers, the velvety walls of your cunt hugging him tightly. Gently, he begins to scissor and curls the two fingers inside you, until he finds that one sweet spot that makes your back arch and you release a needy cry. Making a mental note to himself, he pumps his finger in and out of you while his lips suck at your clit. You scream his name, “N-Noriaki! O-Oh fuck, if you, nngh! K-Keep that up– I-I’ll cum!”

He gasps for air, but still relentlessly finger fucking your insides, “Then please, do cum for me, Y/N!”

And keep it up he does, eyeing your body and watching with satisfaction as you squirm and buck yourself into him; you want more of his mouth on your pink pearl and more of his thick fingers inside of you. Thinking you can handle it, Noriaki adds a third finger and continues his ministrations, wanting to bring you to your first climax of the evening. The pad of his fingers hits your g-spot one more time and coil in your abdomen uncurls, washing you with a wave of pleasure and your eyes rolling to the back of your head. After your orgasm settles down and you’re down gushing out your juice, the boy underneath you gently pulls out his fingers, admiring the slick wetness before popping it into his mouth. He can’t help it, you just taste so, so sweet to him. You relish in the afterglow of your climax before remember how hard your new lover must be.

Catching him off guard, you tackle the younger man back on the bed and start to unbuckle his belt. You then proceed to unzip his pants, pulling it and his boxer (with cherries on them of course) down to his ankles. You take a moment to examine his manhood, the length being long and having a decent amount of girth to it. You think the red tip is cute, matching hair color. While it looks appetizing, you want to get to the main course. Not wasting any more time, you mount your lover and begin to tease his dick, already leaking with precum. Kakyoin takes the time to appreciate your palpable body and how it radiates your lustful intentions. Your hair is already a mess, (e/c) eyes are wanting, and your shoulders and checks a subtle shade of red. He grabs your hips and helps you as you start to align your molten core with his bold erection, now slicker with your lewd fluids. Slowly, you begin to sink down, the tip of Kakyoin’s cock already filling you up. His nails bite into your waist, leaving crescent shape scars while his dick is buried to a hilt. “G-God, (Y/N), you feel absolutely amazing around me, p-please, I want more of your pussy–”

“N-Nori– mm, god, yes, I’ll fuck you, I-I want to thank you, oh god, you’re so big–” you babble, as you begin bouncing on him, taking control and placing your hands on his chest. You lean down for another passionate kiss, riding him until exhaustion before he takes the lead. Both of you go at it for hours…

Meanwhile, Jotaro can hear all of this. The walls are very thin but at least, so it seems, that the both of you are having fun. But it’s still annoying and your lewd noises will definitely wake up the cranky neighbors. “Yare yare daze,” the black-haired man groans to himself, rummaging through his drawer until he finds his handy dandy Walkman with his headphones already attached. He slips them on and presses the play button, blocking out the sultry moans and godawful dirty talks the both of you converse in. Finally, he can study in peace. He goes back to his desk and returns to his research for his marine zoology class.

#Anonymous #kakyoin noriaki #jotaro kujo #he's just mentioned a lot #my writing #scenario #stardust crusaders #jjba #jojo #jojo's bizarre adventure #not sfw #afab reader #n/s/f/w #kakyoin x reader

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fourangers · 5 years ago

Text

Fate and Choices (ch.03)

Summary: When Naruto discovered who was going to be his soulmate, he jumped straight at this opportunity, looking forward to spending the rest of his life with his better half. Sasuke well…he was less eager in this regard though. NaruSasu. Soulmates tattoos. M-rated.

Content: AU!Office, Romance, Comedy, Drama, it’ll get a little too philosophical in some parts talking about free will Vs fate, basically Sasuke is a cynic ass and Naruto is an idealistic moron (great amirite), Anal Sex, tattoos soulmates

Chapter 02 here

AO3 link

--.--

Itachi knocked on Sasuke’s door to catch his attention, muttering. “We have the first polyamorous client that succeeded finding her soulmates using Shinrei. Maybe we should post it on our Instagram.”

“Oh? How many?”

“Four.”

Sasuke blinked. “Four? That’s quite unusual. What’s the biggest number recorded in history?”

“Seven, if I’m not mistaken. But you’re right, at least in recent history the biggest demographic is monogamous relationships first, and then polygamy with three people.”

“I guess it is pretty complicated having to deal with that many people in your plate that even the soulmate system limits its number.” Sasuke wondered out loud.

“Maybe you’re right, but I also have a couple of friends happily married with their soulmates where they both enjoy an open relationship. Another proof that the system that you claim to despise so much, knows how to match people with similar interests together.”

Sasuke rolled his eyes. “Whatever. I’m not going to waste my time to convince you otherwise.”

“Talking about soulmates…contact Naruto-kun so he can schedule this post ok. We’ve been gaining new potential clients every day so I don’t want to lose the momentum.”

Sighing, Sasuke obeyed his older brother, also ignoring how his heart skipped a beat when Naruto answered his call.

“Aren’t you too early for a booty call, Sasuke-chan?”

“Moron, it’s nothing like that. It’s about work.”

“Mmm.” There was a long pause then Naruto’s voice was a little rough from yawning. “Lemme get some coffee first. Can I call you in the next five minutes?”

“Five minutes, nothing more.”

“Yeah yeah.”

Seven minutes and thirty seconds later, Naruto returned his call, his voice chirpier. “Alright, now I’m ready for the booty call.”

Sasuke rolled his eyes. “Usuratonkachi…”

“Oh hey, it’s been years since you used this nickname!” Naruto’s boisterous laugh made his mood lighter, and Sasuke did not notice a smile curling on his own lips. “Are we going back to pet names? What should I call you then, darling? Honey? My smooching buddy?”

“I’m hanging up.”

“No, no! I’ll behave, I prooomise.” Naruto singsonged on the other side of his phone. “So, what do you want to talk about?”

Sipping his coffee, Sasuke said. “One of our clients managed to find her partners using Shinrei and we’re going to post about our first successful polyamorous example.”

“Really? Congrats to them! Imagine, being able to have more than one option while I’m here stuck with an uptight, inconsiderate bastard.”

“Your observation while accurate is wholly unnecessary.”

Naruto chuckled. “At least you admitted that you’re a bastard.”

“No point denying it.” Grunting, Sasuke considered asking the next set of questions but shook his head. “Anyways, I need this post as soon as you can. Do you need any help with it?”

“Yeah, for now we’re going to post about this milestone but in the future maybe it’s better to ask if they want to talk about this experience and all…you know, to keep feeding the account. You have a contract for them to sign about allowing us to publish their story?”

“We do, but your company is more experienced, I’d prefer if you can handle it.”

“Okay, I’ll talk to Neji ‘bout it. I’ll send you the layout and the script and if everything goes well we’ll be able to post it in the next three days.”

“You can’t for tonight?” Sasuke enquired, slightly annoyed.

“Hah. Ah, that’s the biggest issue about clients, they really think that we take care of only you, and no one else. I have five other accounts aside yours, bastard, my team is crammed with other stuff to do and you just asked out of the blue, we’re gonna reorganize to fit with this request.”

“Hn.”

“And I’m not giving you special treatment just ‘cuz you’re my soulmate.”

Sasuke snorted. “Good, because I don’t want any. I’ll talk with my older brother about it, but I’d appreciate it if you guys can manage to deliver sooner. By the way…” He scrolled down his calendar and muttered. “Are you available tomorrow afternoon for a meeting? I’m going to talk with a potential investor but he’s an older generation that won’t understand much about social media, so if you could help out…”

“Tomorrow afternoon? Hm, sure, I think I can help you out. I’ll just talk to Neji ‘bout it first and I’ll give the confirmation later.” There was a noise of flapping of pages, then Naruto paused and exclaimed. “Hey, maybe we can have lunch together before we go to this meeting! How about that? Remember all the good ol’ times, catching up and so on.”

“Hm…if you manage to send me the polyamorous post today, I’ll consider it.”

“Whoa, you can’t dangle the possibility of a date right on my face just so you can bribe me to do your things!” Naruto said incredulously, even if he laughed afterwards.

“I’ll strongly consider it.”

Naruto was still laughing, Sasuke could picture him shaking his head too. “Nah, I really can’t. I’m not the only one involved ya know, so I can’t force my colleagues to drop everything just so I can have some special lunch with you. Anyways, Neji’s here, gotta talk to him. See you soon!”

“Hn.” Turning the phone off, Sasuke felt someone appearing close to him, so he raised his head, narrowing his eyes from Itachi’s knowing smile. “What?” He barked.

“Nothing, nothing at all…you look pretty happy, otouto-kun.” Itachi’s beam widened despite his younger brother’s growing suspicion. “You talked with Naruto-kun?”

“Yes, he said that he’ll only be able to send that post you talked about in the next three days.”

“Oh. While I appreciate you informing me, that wasn’t exactly the answer I was looking for.”

“I know what you are expecting but I’m not going to give you the satisfaction, so beat it, nii-san.” Sasuke growled, focusing back on his laptop.

Itachi chuckled, before sobering up. “Tomorrow you’re going to talk with Takashi-sama right? She’s the chairman of Essity’s branch in Japan, so I really hope she’ll invest in us. It’ll bring us closer to our first goal.”

“I know. Don’t worry about it. Leave it to me.”

⏤.⏤

The opulent decoration in the rich marbled walls intimidated him at first, but it didn’t deter him from fulfilling this mission. Steeling his nerves, Sasuke took a deep inhale and glanced to the side, Naruto was rechecking the speech he’d give alongside the presentation. The comforting knowledge that he had Naruto by his side calmed him somehow.

The blond man was also a very pleasant addition during the trip, with his playful banter peppered in between adjustments and touch ups. It’s been so long since Sasuke had felt so relaxed around anyone, almost as if all the years without Naruto never happened in the first place. And even if he’s adjusting to seeing the teenager Naruto to now a professional adult one, at least their interaction didn’t change one bit.

Takashi was a middle-aged businesswoman that accumulated many exploits due to shrewd decisions and flexible strategies using Western offensive attacks, mixed with Japanese well-rounded management. She must have heard many starry eyed, inexperienced men trying to sell their product in the past, so in her point of view, Sasuke must be just the umpteenth one. It was rattling the look of apathy she gave while he summarized.

“Based on our clan’s background, my brother and I decided to create a new technology to help people find their respective soulmates, and we named this technology Shinrei. We first catalogued all the types of tattoos, if it’s written words, or animals, or symbols, all based with the long list of most tattoos that existed in history. Then, once we identify the type of tattoo the client has, the database will search using all social media that match with the tattoo, and then we’ll personally select and filter till we find his or her soulmate, or soulmates. Actually, we recently found a case with four people being their soulmates using Shinrei.”

“Your competitors all claim that they have similar technology, how is yours any different?” Takashi countered in a bored tone.

“We choose quality over quantity, limiting the numbers of clients we’ll help so we’ll ensure 100% successful cases. Also…” Sasuke thinned his lips, taking a deep breath. “Our clan has a long history in being able to find soulmates using our unique abilities.”

“What? Are you talking about mystical powers? This doesn’t look good on paper, how are you going to convince people to trust your technology if you don’t have scientific proof that your method works?”

Blue eyes peered Sasuke’s distressed expression, so Naruto stepped in. “Well…the soulmate system by itself is also shrouded in mystery right? All that we know is part of humanity’s nature, if it’s due to some higher power or anything else, it just exists. Scientists can’t explain how it works, only that they have successful rates in improving people’s lives. So I think that using some inexplicable abilities makes Shinrei unique.”

The old woman contemplated for a while, crossing her arms.

“Also, the Uchiha clan must have a long list of successful examples, even before the advance of technology, we can show for you Takashi-sama as proof to trust Shinrei’s technology. I’m sure that Sasuke can look for some documents stored in their headquarters, right?”

“Of course, I’ll make sure I’ll inspect thoroughly if necessary if it pleases you Takashi-sama.” Sasuke agreed.

Takashi stared and focused her eyes on the blond man. “You called Uchiha-san by his name, are you two close friends or…?”

Before Sasuke could react, Naruto grabbed his left hand to show their palms, broadening his grin.

“We’re soulmates!”

This piqued her attention, she even tilted her body closer to study their matching tattoos. “Oh, congratulations! You used Shinrei’s technology to track your soulmate?”

Sasuke opened his mouth but Naruto intervened. “Oh no, back then we were just 18. But Sasuke used Uchiha’s clairvoyant abilities to find me, so here I am.”

“Well, at least then I have a successful example right before my eyes.” She nodded, picked her name card and scribbled some numbers on it. “Here’s my personal cellphone number, I look forward to your older brother to contact me so we can continue our conversation. Send me all the statistics as soon as you can, and also send me this presentation you just gave so I can properly study later.” She stood up, and shook hands with both of them. “We’ll talk soon, I hope.”

They both bowed respectfully, thanking for her time as they exited the building, breathing a sigh of relief at the same time.

“Thanks for the save.” Sasuke muttered, Naruto grinned back. “I’m not entirely comfortable that you lied about how we realized we’re soulmates though.” He added.

The blond man rolled his eyes, shrugging. “The only people that know about our history are our close friends, there’s no harm lying a little. Plus, we were fooling around for so long that anyone would also consider that you might be the one who knew that we’re soulmates too.”

“Right…”

It felt weird that they talked about their entanglement in the past tense, like Naruto was some sort of ex that was trying to get back to him. Except that Naruto was his soulmate, so it complicated this situation even further.

Sasuke cleared his throat. “Anyways, since we’re already in the same city of the Uchiha’s shrine and I’m going to take a quick detour so I can get the documents Takashi-sama asked. You can go back to Tokyo if you’d like.”

“Huh? Oh, I don’t mind waiting a little, the trip back to Tokyo is 1 hour and a half long, man. It’s really boring going by myself so if you’re around at least you can provide some entertainment and let me tease you all the way through.”

“Do I look like I’m some kind of toy to you?” When Naruto curled a mischievous grin, Sasuke harrumphed unimpressed. “Whatever, I’m not going to rush for you, usuratonkachi. I might take the whole afternoon, so if you wait for too long it’s going to be your loss.”

⏤.⏤

No matter how many times he went, being in the Uchiha shrine always made him uneasy. He could practically feel the millenia age weighing down on his shoulders. While he was using his own hand to fan his face, Naruto excused himself for a second to buy some beverage in a nearby kiosk.

“Sasuke, hey Sasuke!”

Raising an eyebrow, Sasuke obeyed this call and approached the ditsy blond. Naruto gesticulated in excitement, next to two elderly women that appeared to be the owners of the shop.

“Those two nice ladies, Yachi-san and Kiyoko-san are married for over 50 years! Can you imagine⏤being in such a happy relationship with your soulmate for so long⏤”

Sasuke huffed, but responded politely. “Congratulations to you both for such a long and happy matrimony. Well Naruto, unfortunately the Uchiha shrine doesn’t allow strangers, even though I talked to my mother to try authorizing your entrance.”

Naruto waved his hand, untroubled. “Eh, it’s fine, don’t worry about it. I can use this opportunity to have a nice chat with those two young and jovial ladies.” He beamed and the women giggled in return. “Is that ok for you though?”

“…sure, why not?”

“Uh, it’s just that, I don’t know. You looked kinda uncomfortable somehow.” He rubbed the back of his blond head.

At this admission, Sasuke could feel his shoulders relax somehow. “I’m fine, don’t worry about it. But thanks for getting worried over me.”

Naruto snorted, and puffed his chest. “Well, of course! After all, I’m your soulm⏤”

“See you later.” Sasuke turned around and ignored the squawk of indignation.

As expected, the Uchiha clan contained a long array of documents and ancient scrolls neatly put in the huge archive. There was no point collecting all information since day one, so Sasuke concentrated getting most information from the latest decade, and photographed some old scrolls in case he needed it to impress future sponsors. He took for about half an hour or more, patting the dust away from his clothes as he went to retrieve Naruto.

However, as he was approaching the blond man, he noticed the frantic and desperate look while he chattered with the old ladies. Naruto noticed him, giving a quick bow to them and sprinted towards him.

Quirking an eyebrow, Sasuke mumbled. “You look pale. Is everything alright?”

“Uh, yeah! Sure! Everythin’ ‘s alright, they were just telling me some sad story. But we gotta go right?”

Sasuke observed in silence, but didn’t ask anything further. On the way back to Tokyo, Naruto managed to find his usual lively mood, though sometimes he still appeared to be rattled with whatever news the ladies had delivered.

⏤.⏤

Several weeks have passed without a hitch, as Sasuke and Itachi managed to accumulate more capital for further investment in developing Shinrei. So far with Naruto’s strategies, they have been the talk between youtube influencers, Itachi even gave some interviews to further explain their product.

Sasuke figured it was time for him to look for some international sponsors, at least those in the neighboring countries. After contacting and rescheduling, he called Naruto.

“Naruto, I’ll not be able to attend our meeting tomorrow. Can we change to Friday?”

“Yeah sure, no problem. Why? Is everything going alright for you?”

“Hm, it’s nothing out of the ordinary. I have to go to Beijing to show to some potential sponsors.”

“Oh? You know how to speak Chinese?” Naruto perked up, curious.

“No, we’re going to talk in English.”

“Hey, if it’s English I can help you out! You want me to go with you on this trip?” Naruto exclaimed.

Pausing in mild surprise, Sasuke said. “You can? It’s not too much trouble for you?”

“Nah. I think. Neji said that you guys are now giving a percentage of your profit to our company right? So he’s pretty onboard with anything that will help Shinrei. I think I can get some plane tickets for a good discount, we can meet at the airport.”

It was becoming increasingly disconcerting how he was getting used to having Naruto by his side, giving presentations, sharing meetings, to the point that he was looking forward to seeing the familiar grin and brilliant pair of blue eyes. Sasuke sighed.

Stop. This is nothing. Those emotions are fabricated, some lingering primitive vestiges that he’s forced to face from time to time.

And yet, he appreciated knowing that Naruto would aid him, swift response to defend their position whenever they were in a dispute with a potential sponsor. After four meetings or so, they finished their meal and took a cab to their hotel, laying tiredly on the seat.

Sasuke was first to give his name to the hotel receptionist, mirroring Naruto’s yawn as the blond man slugged over the reception desk.

“Excuse me, Mr. Sasuke Uchiha? I think there must be some kind of mistake, but we’re not finding your name in our reservation system.”

Sasuke tsked, and grumbled. “Maybe my older brother booked with his own name. Try to find Itachi Uchiha.”

There were efficient typing noises, and the receptionist mumbled embarrassed. “We’re very sorry, but we’re not finding your older brother’s name either.”

Sasuke furrowed his eyebrows.

“Yes? What’s the matter Sasuke?” Itachi answered his call.

“For some reason, the hotel you booked is not finding my name.”

“What hotel?”

“Hotel? In Beijing? I’m spending the night here nii-san.”

“Oh.” There was a pause and then. “I forgot.”

Sasuke blinked. “You forgot.”

“Yes, how foolish of me. So sorry my dearest otouto-kun.” Itachi’s amused tone raised red flags in his mind.

“Don’t bullshit me Itachi. Are you telling me that you, that can practically remember how you exited mom’s womb, forgot to book one room for me??”

“I guess I was so busy programming and talking with clients and everything…I’m just human otouto-kun.”

Sasuke wasn’t having any of this. “You’re not human, you’re an evil demon. I’m going to kill you when I get back to Japan.”

He heard Itachi’s amused chuckle in response. “Sure sure. Say hi to Naruto-kun for me ok? I got to go.”

Sasuke groaned loudly, picking Naruto’s attention while the blond man was signing the papers. “Jesus, what happened?”

Sasuke glared at the receptionist, causing him to yip in terror. Sasuke rubbed his eyebrows, and enquired in a calmer voice. “Alright, give me a single room, I’ll pay with my credit card now.”

“I’m…very sorry Mr. Sasuke, but we don’t have any vacant single room.”

“Oh?” Naruto’s face was now 90% wide grin. “Did I just hear that Uchiha Sasuke-sama doesn’t have any place to stay? What tragedy!”

This is karma, this had to be. There was no way Sasuke would be so ill-fated to be surrounded by utter sadists.

“Hey, lucky for you I booked a double bed room!”

“You and Itachi didn’t plan this stupid idea together once again, did you?”

Naruto rolled his eyes. “Obviously we didn’t, have you forgotten the fact that I offered on the last minute to go to Beijing with you, while you booked this flight last week right? Ugh, you’re so skeptical over everything.”

Sasuke wrinkled his nose, and muttered back to the receptionist. “What kind room do you have available then?”

“Well…VIP, Deluxe and presidential rooms.”

“They all sound very expensive. You sure you don’t want to share the room with lil ol’ me?” Naruto offered, impish beam stamped on his face.

Fuck this. Picking up his suitcase, Sasuke turned around towards the exit.

“Whoa, where are you going?”

“Any other hotel, so I can avoid whatever trap you’re laying on me.” Sasuke glared.

Naruto didn’t even bat an eye, cooing in a fake, shrill girlish voice. “I mean, maybe you’re right, maybe you need to go to another hotel. Poor wibble, delicate Sasuke-chan can’t defend himself against my evil clutches because I’m a very bad, bad boy.”

⏤.⏤

One day, one day, he’ll stop falling for whatever goading Naruto would do to rile him up. The blond man was practically skipping on the way to their room, doing an exceptional extra flair with his hand as he allowed Sasuke to enter first.

Graphite eyes scanned everywhere, unfortunately the room wasn’t big enough for one adult man to sleep on the floor.

“Hey Sasuke⏤”

“Just to be clear, we’re not going to have any sex.”

Naruto gawked, tilting his head to one side. “I just wanted to ask if you mind if I put my luggage over there geez. We’re just going to share a bed, not prepare for some fucking sex marathon.”

Sasuke’s eyes were still narrowed, sharp and cautious.

“I mean, unless you were thinking ‘bout it⏤” Naruto curled a sly smirk.

“Absolutely not.”

“Well, so what’s the fuss is all about. ‘M going to take a bath first, I stink.” Naruto picked up a set of clean clothes and went to the bathroom.

Naruto’s complete lackadaisical attitude, however, just increased his suspicion even further. He used his laptop with a guarded stance, steering clear from the blond man, especially after he exited fresh from the bath, all golden locks dewy, tanned skin glowing good GOD he’s not falling for this. Sasuke grabbed his pyjamas and shut the door with a loud click.

The warm droplets coming from the shower managed to calm him, savoring how it massaged his tense shoulders. Sighing contentedly, Sasuke was ready to call it a day and jump on the bed when he saw Naruto sprawled all over it, patting on the empty spot in front of him.

Sasuke growled. “You’re not spooning me.” Besides, if they really need to spoon, he’d be the bigger spoon.

“You’re always such a ray of sunshine. Just lie down here ok? It’s not like we've never done this before.”

Pursing his lips, Sasuke sat on the edge of the bed, gradually lying down his body stiff. Naruto turned off his lights, his back turned to Sasuke.

After several minutes, the brunet was getting sleepy and adjusted the covers, shutting his eyes. He felt arms enveloping around his waist. “Naruto…” He growled.

Naruto’s voice was sluggish and tired, already ready to slumber. “Mm, ‘s just som’ thing, you’re so grouchy, I swear to God…” he continued muttering until he quieted down at last.

Sasuke sighed, revelling the warm body breathing close to him. Just this once, he’d indulge himself. Next time would be different.

(little did he knew, he slept with a pleased smile)

Chapter 04

--.--

AN: Aw, I noticed how much I missed writing Naruto and Sasuke bantering. It was really entertaining.

#NaruSasu #snstext #sn fic #sns fic #drabble

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erideights · 6 years ago

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You won't leave me behind so easily.

Request by anon: What would happen if, when Crowley went to the burning bookshop looking for Aziraphale, he instead found Y/N?

Pairing: Crowley x Fem!Reader (Good Omens)

Word Count: 2072.

Warnings: Mentions of fire, I guess. And maybe a typo, I'm sorry.

Everything happened so fast.

Before anyone could really react.

The days until the prominent arrival of the end of the world were less and less and progressing faster, suffocating the throats of those few who knew about the great event and who, at all costs, tried to get out of it alive.

There was no way to stop it, Crowley thought.

There must be something we can do, Aziraphale argued in his head.

And Y/N? She was one more human, a victim of crossfire, with more knowledge than she could ever accept about the events to come and how her life would end in not that many hours.

The clock was running and she felt stuck, lost, drowned by the great plan that showed little mercy to her existence.

That the angel and the demon were now mad at each other because of their argument of how to proceed not too long ago did nothing to help in this apocalyptic scenario; it made things worse, divided the team of three, thus diminishing their hopes not only for saving the world, but for saving themselves.

And again, Y/N was only human...what could she do but watch everything happen and feel an oppressive impotence in her chest that made it difficult for her to breathe with each beat of her heart?

The scene in which Crowley and Aziraphale argued was playing over and over again in her head as she walked nervously and anxiously through the living room of her apartment, looking for a way to solve things with the few —small, minimal, null— resources that she had.

What could she do to make that pair of idiots come to good terms again and seek together how to get out of all that without dying trying?

Not finding the way to flee, because Y/N wasn’t 100% agree with Crowley's plan to go to Alpha Centauri, but the way to save the planet where they lived, as many millions more humans and thousands of animals and plant species that they deserved, in fact, to be able to continue their lives.

Because a war between Hell and Heaven to see who’s stronger? What a fucking joke, they looked like 10 year olds arguing in a school.

———

The characteristic siren of a fire engine sounded in the distance, not too far away, barely audible above Queens's You’re My Best Friend, as a 1933 Bentley moved through the streets of London at such speed anyone could think it defied the laws of physics imposed by the universe.

If only they knew.

The first sign of alarm for the demon was seeing the truck parked right in front of the bookshop that he knew so well thanks to the long afternoons and even longer nights spent there in company of the only two living beings for whom in reality, he would give his life.

The second, were the flames devouring the facade of the building, destroying everything in its path, without mercy for everything that housed its interior, not only physical but emotional. What happened to the laughter accumulated there? With the empty wine glasses and the existential crisis talks?

With his memories?

The third, and this was the trigger that forced Crowley out of his flat and start the car, was to stop feeling the presence of the angel on the face of the earth.

He couldn’t explain it even if he wanted to, he supposed that it was some divine thing beyond his comprehension, but Aziraphale had disappeared from his demonic radar and the idea of the march of his best friend in times of crisis shrank his heart in a fist that only tightened more with every second of the clock.

To suspect that the woman he loved —a frail human prey to the terrible and countless facilities that she had to die— was with the celestial being until his disappearance, made everything worse.

His thoughts were running over each other in panic inside his head as he slammed the passenger door and his quick steps headed for the shop.

A snap of his fingers was enough to open the doors as well as to stop hearing the voices of the firemen trying to get his attention and save him from what would be an imminent death for an ordinary mortal. And once the doors were closed, Crowley's screams and cries for his best friend were muffled by the chaos around him; the wooden beams that supported the place wouldn’t last much longer, the shelves had already begun their fall across the entire floor.

There was no book that could survived that disaster.

Or so he thought before glimpsing from the corner of his eye a large copy whose green cover seemed practically intact, ends slightly scorched but no damage serious enough to give the book for lost.

But then he heard it.

A distant cough, a dull groan, a choked voice asking for help.

Y/N was laying on the floor, sweat coating her forehead and cheeks vaguely tinted with black dust thanks to the ash mixed with the air.

To the naked eye, she didn’t seem to had an ugly burn or a mortal wound that Crowley couldn’t heal with a little demonic miracle of his own, but that didn’t stop him from falling to his knees beside her and hugging her against him, promising once and again that everything would be okay.

She was conscious, but she’d breathed too much smoke to be able to move on her own foot, so regardless of whether her heart had flip in her chest when she saw the mischievous demon that she had fallen in love so hopelessly years ago, because that was the effect he always had on her, she felt relief that it was him who came to save her.

The last thing she could remember before falling into a terrible and suffocating unconsciousness were the golden eyes of the redhead, whose anguish —caused by the events— had flooded them at the verge of tears, and she couldn’t help feeling a sharp pain through her chest escorting her to the most absolute darkness.

———————

‘’Aziraphale?’’ For a moment Crowley thought his tired eyes were playing tricks on him and making him see things that weren’t really there, because a distorted reflection of what he considered his deceased best friend’d appeared out of nowhere in front of him and… that couldn’t be, right? ‘’Are you here?’’

But, contrary to the expected reaction —none under the premise of hallucinations— the demon frowned in confusion when the angel's voice reached his ears. ‘’Good question. Not certain. Never done this before. Can you hear me?’’

‘’Of course I can hear you.’’

‘’Afraid I’ve rather made a mess of things.’’ Aziraphale looked confused, disoriented and, more importantly, pained. Crowley supposed that, in his condition, —whatever it was since he couldn’t understand it—, the angel couldn’t see him; their gaze never crossed, the blue one of the platinum blond lost somewhere in the ceiling. ‘’Did you go to Alpha Centauri?’’

‘’Nah, I changed my mind. Stuff happened. I lost my best friend. And I... nearly lost her too.’’ Unconsciously, the demon's hand squeezed softly the one intertwined with his, although she probably wouldn’t feel it. In that moment, the redhead's peculiar eyes traveled to the calm face of the young girl, asleep and at peace in his bed; the damage she received wasn’t serious enough to feel the need to be taken to a hospital, it was rather obvious that he would end up taking care of her.

He wanted to.

‘’Her?’’ The angel looked even more confused for a split second, eyes widened and voice soaked in horror at the sudden realisation of the person they were talking about. ‘’Oh, wait, you mean Y/N? Did something happen to her? Please do tell me she’s okay.’’

‘’Your bookshop. It burned down. She was there.’’

His bookshop? Burned down? Reduced to ashes ...? He would ask, but his concern was not especially focused on one place, but on ‘’Did she? But I thought… I thought she was with you—’’

‘’She wasn’t.’’ Crowley cut off quickly, a bit annoyed with his lack of knowledge about the whereabouts of the girl before finding her where he found her; he supposed that both had been so focused with the whole ''end of the world'' thing that, after the argument between him and the angel, when the three seemed divided by different urges, none cared about the only living being that, by her own, couldn’t escape. ‘’But don’t worry, Y/N’s here and she’s fine. She’s the strongest human I know, she’ll be okay.’’

And so the conversation between the two went on, the revelation of Aziraphale about where the end of time would begin, his relief knowing that his friend also rescued Agnes' book —that would give them a chance to save them all— and the promise of meeting there once the angel found a new body.

And in the same way he had appeared a few mins ago, he disappeared, returning the silence to the dark room of the fallen angel, who was in a heart dilemma; he couldn’t leave Y/N alone, not when he didn’t know for sure if he would see her again. But take her with him, in her state, and to such an extremely dangerous situation?

What he didn’t know either, was that the girl had been awake for a while, listening partially and in pieces his conversation with Aziraphale because, unfortunately, she wasn’t a celestial being, she couldn’t catch the presence of her white winged friend, but she did catch enough to know that she needed to ignore the faint pain that his body had and go with them to save the damn world.

So when Crowley sighed again, still shuffling his options, she sat up in bed without warning, causing her favorite demon to slightly jump in his seat in the chair next to the mattress.

‘’C’mon,’’ she said with much more vitality than one could expect, her voice stressing her impatience, for there was no time to lose. ‘’we need to go.’’

‘’We?’’ He asked, incredulous, snorting a bitter and dry chuckle from the deepest point of his throat. ‘’You’re not going anywhere.’’

‘’And will you be the one to stop me?’’ God, he was helplessly in love with that woman who only knew how to make snarky and sassy remarks when she wanted to piss him off. Was he a masochist or something?

But deep in thought, adoration written all over his face, he didn’t get the chance to really stop her until she was out of bed and heading towards the door of the flat down the corridor full of plants that, at Crowley's sight with that look of pure rage on his face, began to tremble.

Holy shit, she was fast.

‘’Y/N, for fuck’s sake,’’ he grabbed her left wrist and spinned her around, making the girl look at him straight in the face. To prove his point and try to intimidate her with his annoyed expression? Maybe. ‘’You don’t really have any kind of preservation instinct for your own life, do you? Don’t you know how dangerous it is?’’

But instead of being afraid of him, being the good girl he expected her to be and agreeing to stay away from all that, Y/N slipped out of his grasp, searching quickly for the lapels of Crowley's jacket. In a second she pulled these towards her own body to counteract the immense height difference and trapped his parted lips in a passionate kiss.

Oh, she wanted to do that for a long time now.

For a brief instant, Crowley was completely frozen, unaware that his feelings were indeed returned and of course, the moment in which he wanted to kiss her back and searched for the hips of the girl to bring her closer to him, she pulled back and fixed her deep eyes on the golden ones of the demon.

‘’We're leaving, both of us. And don’t you dare try to stop me, Crowley, I won’t leave you.’’

#good omens #good omens prime #crowley #crowley x reader #ineffable husbands #good omens one shots #crowley good omens #crowley x fem!reader

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arysafics · 6 years ago

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Pretty Pictures

Summary: At his thirtieth birthday, Bellamy sneaks upstairs with his boss's sixteen year old daughter.

prompt: Big age gap. Clarke is underage, and Bellamy can't stop taking filthy photos of her while he fucks her to get off to later.

for @the100kinkmeme

warnings: underage

Rated E, ~3,100 words

Bellamy decided on a big party for his thirtieth birthday. He’s never been one to care much about birthdays, but with his recent promotion, his new house, and his sister getting into her top choice for college, he has a lot to celebrate.

He’s been congratulated more times than he can count, and there’s a pile of gifts accumulating on the coffee table. It’s crowded already, and not everyone is here yet.

His conversation with a neighbour is cut short when a strong hand grips him on the shoulder, and he spins around to see his boss, Jake Griffin, grinning at him.

“Mr. Griffin,” Bellamy grins back. “So glad you could make it.” After all, Jake is the reason for Bellamy’s success. The reason he feels like celebrating tonight.

Jake grabs Bellamy’s hand and shakes it firmly. “Happy birthday. I brought you a present.” Jake steps aside, and behind him stands his teenage daughter, Clarke. Bellamy’s breath hitches, and his eyes drop to her generous cleavage, almost spilling out of her tight red dress. How can her father let her go out dressed like that? He has to know what his daughter looks like. What men are thinking when they look at her, without a care that she’s only sixteen. Bellamy certainly doesn’t care. His cock jumps at the sight of her.

“Happy birthday, Mr Blake,” Clarke says sweetly, handing Bellamy the no doubt very expensive bottle of whiskey she’s holding.

“Thank you, Clarke,” Bellamy smiles. “And Mr Griffin.”

“Please,” Jake rolls his eyes. “It’s Jake now. Don’t make me tell you again.”

“Yes, Mr—Jake,” Bellamy grins.

“How about I pour us a couple of glasses, huh?” Jake says, and Bellamy hands him the bottle. “Glasses?”

“In the kitchen.”

Jake nods. “Clarke, how about you keep Bellamy company for a minute?”

“Okay,” Clarke agrees, her cheeks turning pink. Jake disappears towards the kitchen, and Bellamy and Clarke both watch him go. She turns back to him once her dad is out of sight. “So, thirty, huh?” she smiles cheekily. “You’re so old.”

“Don’t be a brat,” Bellamy says. Clarke steps closer to him, so close her breasts brush against his chest for a moment. He shivers.

“You like it when I’m a brat,” she declares.

“Is that right?”

Clarke nods, biting her lip. “I have another present for you,” she whispers. “But I can’t give it to you with all these people around.”

Bellamy swallows thickly. He’s hard already. He dips his head, presses his lips against her ear. “Go and wait upstairs for me,” he murmurs. “I’ll slip away when I can.”

He hears Clarke let out a shaky breath. Goddamn he wants to slip his hand between her legs right here. When was the last time he had her? Before his promotion, definitely. In her dad’s office, over a month ago it must have been, while Jake was in a meeting and Clarke had dropped around after school.

The first time was just after she turned sixteen, when Jake asked Bellamy to pick Clarke up from school. He’d taken her virginity in the back of Jake’s brand new Mercedes, after she let her plaid skirt ride up to reveal the wet patch on her cotton panties.

He should feel bad about it, probably. He’s almost twice her age. She’s not even legal. But he can’t bring himself to care, when he knows that pretty little thing belongs to him, and him alone.

Clarke skips off towards the staircase, and a moment later Jake returns with two glasses of whiskey.

“To you,” Jake says, clinking his glass against Bellamy’s. “For your birthday, and for being the only trustworthy, decent man in the whole company.”

He sneaks upstairs as soon as he can. Between trivial conversations, each one only lasting a minute anyway. No one is going to miss him for half an hour when there is liquor flowing and music playing. If they ask, he’ll just say he had to take a phone call.

He practically runs up the top half of the staircase, but manages to compose himself before he opens the door to his bedroom. The red dress is on the floor. Clarke is propped up against the pillows on his bed, naked. A vision. Before he can think better of it, he pulls his phone out of his pocket and snaps a photo of her. Who knows how long it will be until he gets to see her like this again?

His cock strains against the fly of his pants, desperate to be inside her.

“What took you so long?” Clarke whines.

“Sorry, baby,” Bellamy says. He’s not sorry at all. He loves the thought of her waiting her for him, naked in his bed. “Don’t want your daddy to get suspicious, do we? Don’t want him to find out I took his little girl’s virginity, do we?”

Clarke shakes her head. “He’d be mad,” Clarke says.

“I know he would,” Bellamy says. “He doesn’t need to know you’re my little girl now.” If Jake found out about Bellamy fucking his daughter, he’d be fired and in prison in ten seconds flat. That knowledge only makes it all the more exciting. “So, what’s my present?”

“Me, obviously,” Clarke says. “You get to fuck me.”

“I already get to fuck you.”

Clarke pouts. “You don’t like your present?”

Bellamy raises an eyebrow at her. She’s loves using the hurt little girl act on him. He plays along. “Of course I like it, baby. But I was hoping for something a little more.”

Clarke catches her bottom lip between her teeth. “What do you want?”

Bellamy shrugs off his jacket. He starts slowly unbuttoning his shirt. “I want to come inside you,” he says.

Clarke flushes. “I’ll get pregnant,” she whispers. That would be a terrible thing, though Bellamy is sure the thought of it gets her as horny as it does him.

“Not if I come in your ass,” Bellamy says. His shirt hits the floor. Clarke squirms.

“In my ass?” she squeaks. Bellamy nods. He’s played with her ass before, pushed his big fingers inside her, made her come that way, but she’s never had his cock in her ass.

“And I want to take pictures,” he adds. “Need something to get me through until the next time I can have you.”

“What if my dad finds the pictures?”

“No one will see them except me,” Bellamy promises. “So can I have my present? Or should I go back down to the party?”

“You can have your present,” Clarke swallows. Bellamy gets his phone out again and snaps another picture of her, before he removes his pants and underwear. He doesn’t miss Clarke squeeze her thighs together when she gets a glimpse of his cock.

Bellamy walks over to the bed and kneels on the end, holding his phone out. “Spread your legs, sweetheart,” he says. “Show me your pretty pussy like a good girl.” Clarke obeys, her legs opening. “Knees up,” Bellamy commands. Clarke flushes as she does what he says, and he snaps a few pictures of her swollen pussy, her clit engorged and visible.

“Bellamy,” Clarke whines.

“Shh, baby,” Bellamy says. “Need you to suck my cock now, okay? Gonna get some photos of your mouth around me.”

Clarke nods, scrambling to her hands and knees in front of him. Bellamy views her through his phone screen as she licks his cock. His thumb hits the capture button over and over. She takes him into her mouth, and he fists his free hand into her hair, pulling slightly. She whimpers, and Bellamy gives a low groan. More photos.

“That’s it,” Bellamy says as she takes him deeper. “Good girl, you look so pretty like this, my cock in your mouth. Gotta stretch your lips so wide, don’t you? Such a dirty girl. How about you look up at me? Pose for the camera, baby.”

Clarke looks up, wide blue eyes looking so innocent, despite the massive cock in her mouth. Only Bellamy knows just how filthy she really is. She almost chokes on his cock, and the sound gives him a thrill. He loves knowing he’s too big for her.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Bellamy coos. “You try so hard to take it all, don’t you? One day you will,” he says. “Okay, that’s enough,” he tells her, and Clarke backs off, sitting back on her calves. “Gonna fuck your pussy now. But don’t worry, I won’t come until I’m in your ass.”

Just the mention of him fucking her ass has her blushing again. He loves it. Loves to make her blush, to make her squirm. Loves reminding her what a filthy little girl she is.

She’s eager to have him in her pussy though, and she lies back against the pillows, wriggling down and spreading her legs for him. He takes another picture. He puts his free hand on one of her tits, and despite their size, his hand almost covers it. Another picture, and then another as he squeezes. He takes her nipple between two fingers and gives it a little twist, taking more pictures as Clarke whines.

Bellamy moves his hand from her breast to her cunt, taking another picture of his huge hand cupping her mound. His fingers find their way inside her, and he takes a few more pictures of his thick fingers stretching her pussy open.

“Look how wet you are, baby,” Bellamy says, removing his fingers, dripping with her arousal. “I haven’t even done anything to you yet. Always so wet for me, aren’t you, you desperate little thing?”

“Yes,” Clarke breathes.

“Imagine if your daddy knew what a nasty little slut you are,” Bellamy says. “If he knew what his precious little princess was doing right now. Imagine if he knew how much you crave my cock.”

“He can’t find out,” Clarke says.

“Nobody can, baby girl. You know what would happen if anyone found out I fucked my boss’s sixteen-year-old daughter?”

“My dad would kill you.”

“Probably,” Bellamy agrees. Jail is probably the least of his worries. “You want my cock now, sweetheart?”

Clarke nods eagerly. “Please. Please Bell, I need it. I haven’t stopped thinking about it since the last time.”

Bellamy kneels between her thighs and pulls her hips towards him. He snaps a picture as he pushes the tip of his cock into her. Then another, and another as he sinks deeper into her, his thickness stretching her tight pussy nice and wide. She’s whining like a lost puppy as he fills her, doing her best to hold still like she knows he wants her to. He can’t get a good shot if she’s squirming too much.

The sight of his thick brown cock jutting out of her pale white cunt is almost overwhelming. These pictures are going to keep him going for months.

“Play with your clit, baby,” Bellamy says. “Show me how you touch yourself when I’m not there.”

Clarke slides her hand between her legs, and Bellamy keeps snapping pictures as she rubs her clit, her hips moving ever so slightly. His cock throbs inside her as he tries to hold back. Her tits bounce as she fucks herself on his cock and her fingers. Shame the pictures won’t show that. Next time he’ll have to get a video.

“Bell,” Clarke whines, her face contorted in ecstasy. “Can I come? Please?”

“Yeah, sweetheart, you can come.”

She stops rocking against him as she comes. Her whole body tightens, her back arches and she pants her way through her orgasm. Bellamy thrusts his cock into her, fucking her cunt as she comes, loving the way she feels clenching tightly around him. The photos he takes will probably be blurry and wonky, but he keeps snapping away anyway.

Clarke falls back to the mattress, breathing heavily. Bellamy can feel her cunt pulsing around him. He needs to come. He needs to come inside her.

“Are you going to fuck my ass now?” Clarke asks, her voice barely a whisper.

“Would you like that?”

Clarke nods shyly, as if she’s a sweet little virgin, not a cock hungry little slut.

Bellamy pulls his cock out of her, then taps her on the thigh to signal her to turn over. She rolls onto her stomach, presenting her perfect, round ass to him.

“Spread your cheeks, baby,” Bellamy tells her. Clarke reaches around, gripping her ass cheeks and pulling them apart to reveal her tight little asshole. God. Fuck. It’s going to be a tight fit. Bellamy snaps a few more pictures. “Look at the camera,” he says, and Clarke looks over her shoulder, all flushed and freshly fucked, her asshole on display. He’s wanted to fuck her ass since the first day he saw her walk into her father’s office in a skirt that barely covered it.

“Relax, now, sweetheart,” Bellamy coos. “Or it’s gonna hurt a lot more than it needs to. And keep your cheeks spread for me. I’m gonna fuck your ass now. Gonna pop your anal cherry with your daddy just downstairs, none the wiser.”

Bellamy presses the head of his cock to her asshole. He takes a picture. He pushes, and he’s met with strong resistance. He pushes through it, until he gets the tip inside her. Clarke whimpers beneath him, and he takes another picture.

“It’s too big,” Clarke whines. “It won’t fit.”

Bellamy’s heart sinks. He wants this so bad. But he can’t force her. “Should I come in your mouth instead?” he offers.

Clarke lies silent for a moment. Bellamy’s cock is throbbing painfully now. He needs release. He desperately wants to shove his cock into her ass and fuck her until she can’t walk straight.

“No,” Clarke whispers. “I want it in my ass. I can take it.”

“You sure?”

“Yes,” Clarke says. “Please.”

He pushes in a little further and Clarke gasps. “Oh my god,” she groans.

“Your ass is so tight, baby,” Bellamy tells her. “I’m not gonna last long.” He forces his cock deeper into her, and he thinks Clarke might be crying now, but she doesn’t tell him to stop, so he doesn’t. “How’s it feel?” he asks her.

She moans in response. “Hurts,” she says.

“Good hurt? Or bad?”

Clarke wriggles beneath him. “Good,” she says. “Feel so full with you in my ass.”

“You’re such a naughty girl, Clarke,” Bellamy tells her. “I knew you’d love having your ass stuffed with cock. You’ll love anything I give you.”

He pulls out of her slightly, then rams into her, pushing his cock even deeper this time. She cries out.

“Oh my god, my ass,” she screams. Bellamy can only be thankful the music downstairs is loud. No one is going to hear her. He discarded his phone at some point, but he picks it up again now, taking a picture of his cock between her ass cheeks, spreading her wide.

He tosses it onto the bed again, then grips her hips. He thrusts in and out of her, slower than he would if he was fucking her pussy. Her asshole drags against his cock with each thrust. It’s so fucking tight. It feels like she’s trying to squeeze the come out of him.

It doesn’t take him long. Her ass feels so good, and he’s wanted it so long. He shoves his cock as far into her as he can, his balls slapping against her skin, and then he’s coming, spurting his load deep into her ass. He pulls out slowly as he comes, and aims the rest of his come at her ass, where it splatters across her cheeks and thighs.

He’s barely finished before he’s scrambling for his phone again, taking picture after picture of her ass, dripping with his come. Clarke looks over her shoulder at him, and he gets a few nice shots with her face in it too.

“You okay?” he asks. Clarke nods. “Next time I’m gonna get you to come from having your ass fucked,” Bellamy tells her.

“I want to come again now,” she says.

“No time, baby. We’ve already been gone too long. Time to put your dress back on and go downstairs.”

Clarke flushes. “With—with your come on me?”

“Yes, with my come on you.”

“What if my dad sees?”

“Maybe you should have worn a longer dress.”

“I wore it for you.”

“I know you did,” he whispers. He leans down to kiss her. “Put it on and we’ll make sure we wipe off any come that’s visible, okay? Don’t need everyone at the party knowing what a little slut you are. Especially your dad.”

Clarke jumps off the bed and wriggles back into her tight dress. Bellamy grabs some tissues, and wipes the come from her thighs, where it’s already starting to dry.

“I like having your come in my ass,” Clarke whispers. “Can’t wait to go downstairs with your come dripping out of me. I won’t be able to stop thinking about it.”

“Me too,” Bellamy agrees. The thought of her walking around amongst all his friends, her ass full of his come, makes him want to fuck her ass all over again. He stands up and spins her around. “There, you’re decent. Well, you look decent.”

Clarke smiles at him. “What are you going to do with the pictures?”

“I’m going to look at them every night and I’m going to think about you while I get myself off.”

Clarke’s face turns a pretty shade of pink. “Good,” she says.

“You go downstairs first. If anyone asks say you went to the bathroom.”

“Okay.”

Clarke leaves, and Bellamy takes a few minutes to clean himself up and get dressed, before he follows her downstairs. He runs straight into Jake.

“What have you been up to?” Jake asks. Fucking your daughter’s ass. Bellamy swallows.

“Had to take a phone call,” he explains, hoping his face isn’t as red as it feels.

“I wanted to ask you something,” Jake says. “My family usually take a vacation in the summer for a week or so, to our beach house. Well, it’s less of a vacation for me, as I’ll be doing work, and I’d like you to help me. What do you say?”

Bellamy glances at Clarke, standing behind her father. Jake doesn’t miss it. “Worried about her little crush on you, are you?”

“Dad!” Clarke hisses. As if Bellamy doesn’t already know how much she likes him.

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Jake says. “Clarke’s a good girl, aren’t you?”

Clarke nods. “Such a good girl,” she says. Jake turns back to Bellamy, and Clarke’s innocent pout turns into a wicked smirk. Bellamy is so glad that isn’t even a little bit true.

#bellarke #bellarke fanfiction #the 100 #the 100 fanfiction #mine #the 100 km

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the-observant-frisbeetarian · 6 years ago

Text

Chapter 6 - Live Game

Catch Perfect by George deValier

CHAPTER SIX

LIVE GAME: A game with a lot of action, usually with unskilled players, especially maniacs.

Berwald turned to Tino with a silent plea to explain the situation. Party? Tino just mouthed an apology before Iceland hauled him to his feet. "Come on, Fin, let's get ready."

Tino sighed, resigned to his fate. "All right, you want to party. Where are we going?"

Denmark jumped from his chair, pointed at Tino, and started singing. "You! I wanna take you to a gay bar!"

Tino closed his eyes. "Oh, God."

"I wanna take you to a gay bar!"

"Please stop," Tino groaned, putting his hand to his head.

"I wanna take you to a gay bar, gay bar, gay bar…"

"What's he on about?" Berwald's eyes narrowed in irritated confusion.

Faeroe looked up from the couch. "I believe he wishes to take you to an all-gentleman's drinking establishment."

"Do ya? A do ya have any money? I wanna spend all your money! At the gay bar, gay bar, gay bar!"

"YES I GET IT!" Tino shouted. "But Ice and I aren't old enough to actually get into a bar, gay or otherwise."

Iceland scoffed dismissively. "Den made us fake IDs months ago. Besides, once I'm done with you, you'll get in anywhere."

Tino edged apprehensively away from Iceland. "What exactly does that mean?"

"I swear," said Norway as he crossed the room, "If either of you say the word 'makeover' I will evict you this second on the grounds of being excessively homosexual."

Denmark grinned manically and directed his demented singing to Norway. "I've got something to put in y-AARGH!"

Norway flexed his fist as Denmark rubbed his arm. "Sweden. You don't need a fake ID, do you." It wasn't a question.

"'course not." Berwald didn't mention that he had not needed to show ID since he was fifteen.

All eyes turned to Berwald. Iceland, Tino, and Denmark leant forward, expectant. Berwald was just confused. "What?"

"All right." Norway narrowed his eyes and folded his arms. "How old are you, Sweden?"

"Tw'nty-three."

Denmark punched the air. "Yes! Under twenty-five, told you! Pay up."

Norway practically growled as he tossed a coin to Denmark. "You got lucky."

Iceland groaned and placed a coin in Denmark's outstretched palm. "Would've sworn thirty, at least."

Berwald frowned. Thirty? Tino grinned delightedly. "Ha! I told you guys he wasn't a middle-aged pervert… Uh, sorry, Berwald."

Berwald just shrugged. His housemates had been taking bets on his age. He wasn't really surprised.

"All right, break it up, move it along," Denmark barked, placing the coins in his pocket. "Sweden, go get changed, you're covered in dirt, it's disgusting. Seriously."

Berwald shook his head. In his idea of a good time, going out on the town with Denmark ranked somewhere between repeatedly smashing his head against the wall and being forced to watch those awful reality shows Greenland and Faeroe lived off. "Thanks, but… I'll give it a miss."

Denmark waved a hand and followed the others up the stairs. "Whatev, you'd cramp my style anyway. Oi Iceland, get back here, you are so not having the bathroom first, you take a fucking month!"

Berwald escaped into the kitchen, which was quickly becoming a sort of hideout for him. At least, it was a safe place to wait until everyone left and he could make his way to his bedroom unhindered. He spent twenty minutes dealing with the mess which only accumulated the minute he finished cleaning it, then decided to busy himself making coffee. He took out a mug, put the jug on the boil, opened the fridge to get the milk, then looked up when Tino walked into the kitchen.

Berwald dropped the milk carton.

"Iceland," Tino explained, his expression slightly bewildered.

"I, um…" Berwald's brain would not work. Tino was dressed… if 'dressed' was even the right word… in a tight purple shirt, Iceland's white boots, and quite possibly the smallest pair of shorts Berwald had ever seen. "I, um… I, um…" Berwald paused, breathed deeply, and focused really, really hard on getting the next sentence out correctly. "I… um." He barely noticed the milk pooling around his feet.

"Come on, Finland!"

Tino looked in the direction of Denmark's voice then back at Berwald pleadingly. "Please come with me!"

"I…" Berwald had absolutely no choice. "Okay."

It took Berwald five minutes to get ready. When he descended into the living room, Tino still looked helplessly lost, Norway stood tapping his foot, Iceland was fussing with Tino's hair, and Greenland and Faroe looked about as stunned as Berwald.

Greenland blinked incredulously up at Tino. "Who did this thing to you?"

Tino looked helplessly down at himself. "I know! I can't go out like this!"

Iceland rolled his eyes. He was dressed practically identical to Tino, though with a blue shirt, and a hell of a lot more eyeliner. "The hell you can't, you're our ticket into the hottest club in town."

"But I... but I look..."

"Fucking perfect, sweetie."

"Come on Ice, can't you do this?"

"I always do it. It's time to pass on my knowledge. Now remember what I told you to say?"

Tino took a deep breath. "Um... can my friends come in too?"

Iceland nodded. "Just like that, with that little tilt of the head. Now bite your lip that way you do. Beautiful."

Just as Berwald was trying to sort out his wildly oscillating and self-sabotaging emotions, he was thrown off guard by Denmark sauntering into the room, wearing a garish red suit and a little hat. Norway sneered at him. "You look like a pimp."

"Yeah, baby." Denmark placed an arm each around Norway and Iceland and grinned widely. "Sup, bitches." Norway stomped on his foot.

Denmark barely noticed. "Gentleman. And now we embark upon the age-old tradition of getting raging drunk in order to forget our problems. Shall we?"

The line of people waiting to enter the club stretched halfway down the street. Berwald and his housemates stood in a cluster off to the side, eyeing the security discreetly. "That one," said Iceland, pointing to a bouncer and pushing Tino towards the crowd. "Go, Fin."

Tino, looking slightly confused and a little terrified, pushed his way hesitantly through the crowd to the bouncers on the door. Berwald watched, the back of his neck boiling, as Tino spoke a few inaudible words. Not that he should worry, really; there was no way this was going to work.

But then Tino tilted his head. The bouncer nodded and Tino turned back to the group, smiling and beckoning them forward.

"All riiight!" Denmark cheered, pushing his way through the crowd to the door. "Move it, peasants. Nice one, Fin."

Berwald shot the bouncer a glare as he walked past. The man took a step backwards.

An hour later and Berwald could not remember the last time he had felt so uncomfortable. He was surrounded by a swarming, sweating, undulating mass of humanity, all at varying degrees of intoxication, all reminding Berwald why he absolutely hated nightclubs. He almost found himself looking around for a dirty, discreet back door somewhere - most of these places had games going on if you knew where to find them - but he quelled that notion the second he thought it. What would he even bet with?

Berwald glanced around for his housemates, who were having no problems making themselves at home in the blaring club. Norway had found his way to the bar and was currently knocking back his fourth straight shot of gin. Iceland had found a pole and an appreciative audience. Denmark had found the dance floor - and glowsticks. Only Tino seemed as much at a loss as Berwald, pushing through the massing sea of people around the bar. Almost everyone stared as he passed by, some even whistling, some getting so dangerously close that Berwald had to restrain himself from starting a few stupid, testosterone-laden barroom brawls.

Tino eventually made his way through the thronging mass and laughed up at Berwald. "Gosh, wow. Have you ever seen so many people pressed up like this? We had a dance at my school last year but only like thirty people turned up because everyone went and hung out at the empty lot to drink vodka and make out and look at cars. I would have gone, but I'm just not that interested in cars."

Berwald could not do this. He could not stand here while the most perfect person in the world stood right beside him and laughed like that and came out with those crazy, perfect things he always said. Berwald took a long sip of his beer and focused again on Denmark on the dance floor. Tino followed his gaze, a puzzled expression on his face. "What is he doing?"

"Think he's dancin'," Berwald replied, hoping Tino could hear him over the deafening electronics and thumping beat. He was not good at yelling. "Or, uh... tryin' to."

"He looks like he's having a fit."

"Thought he was," said Berwald. "Was gettin' ready to do CPR. Then he started wavin' the glowsticks so I thought he must be all right."

Tino giggled loudly. "That was funny."

"I was serious." This just made Tino burst into another fit of laughter. Berwald looked at him in confusion.

"Sorry," laughed Tino.

"Y'all right, Tino?" asked Berwald carefully. Tino was acting a little different - he certainly did not seem as nervous as usual.

"Of course! Norway gave me one of these!" Tino grinned, holding up an almost empty bottle of some brightly coloured hideous vodka concoction.

"Ah." Well, that explained it. "Ye should go easy on that."

"Why?"

"It's stronger than it tastes."

Tino waved a hand dismissively. "I'm Finnish, remember? I come from a long line of proud people who can hold their vodka and shoot Russians and sit in saunas for a really, really long time." Tino finished his drink, stumbled, and Berwald almost unconsciously reached out and took his arm. He led him through the crowd to a few couches centred around a low table; Berwald glared at the two men sitting there and they quickly left. Tino barely noticed, just falling heavily onto the couch. Iceland passed by on his way back from the bar and passed Tino a bright purple bottle.

"Ooh." Tino immediately started on the next sugary vodka mixture. Berwald closed his eyes, searched for inner strength, then sat down beside him.

Two drinks later and it was becoming quite clear that Tino was not the best drinker in the world. Berwald was only on his second beer, but used to much stronger. He watched with a mixture of amusement and complete, utter infatuation as Tino waved a bright blue bottle in the air in time with his words. He seemed to be making his way through every colour of the rainbow in vodka form. "And so then, get this, the teacher says that I was totally wrong in my entire interpretation and that there is no way that 'Romeo and Juliet' would ever work during a zombie apocalypse. So, d'you know what I said?"

"No."

Tino raised his drink. "I said, 'screw you!'"

"Really?"

Tino took a sip of vodka and shook his head. "No, not really, but I thought it. I actually said 'okay' and then I just, sort of, sat back down."

Berwald actually had to hold back a burst of laughter. "Well, at least ye thought it."

Tino leant forward with wide, bright, earnest eyes. "Don't you just wish sometimes that you could say what you're really thinking? I always worry that I'm going to upset someone, or make a fool of myself, or that it's going to come out wrong, which it usually does anyway because my brain just never seems to keep up with my mouth, you know what I mean?"

Berwald nodded. He wasn't actually sure he'd even heard Tino, too captivated by those violet eyes. "Sure."

Tino smiled softly. "Berwald, you're a really, really good listener."

"'kay."

"Do you think we're going to lose the house?"

Oh. That Berwald understood. How to answer… Berwald did the way he always did; the only way he really knew how. Honestly. "I don't know."

Tino flopped back against the couch despairingly. "Berwald, what will I do if we get kicked out? I won't have anywhere to go. I'll end up living on the street in a cardboard box. I don't want to live in a cardboard box, Berwald. How will I ever decorate it, nothing goes with that horrible brown colour. Oh my God, and I'll have to wear one of those beanie things with the bobbles on the side! Please don't let that happen to me, Berwald!"

Berwald did not think he could handle this. Tino was so adorable it was killing him. "I won't. Pr'mise I won't."

Tino gave a happy sigh and laid his head on Berwald's shoulder. Berwald took a very long gulp of beer. "That's so nice. You're so nice. What am I going to do with my life, Berwald?

Berwald froze. Oh, no. Drunk talk already. "I'm sure you'll think'f somethin'."

"I'm eighteen, I graduate in a month, and I have no idea what I want to do. Isn't that stupid?"

Berwald was all too aware of Tino's face so close to his. He could almost feel his breath. "No."

Tino waved his drink again as he spoke. "Eduard is going to be a computer whatsit… thing… guy. And Feliks and Toris are both already at college, and… and I just have no idea. I'm not the best at anything. I mean, I can play the piano, but I'm no musical genius. I'm in the soccer team, but I'm no athlete. I get good grades, but I'm never the top of the class. I'm just normal, boring, average."

Berwald scoffed quietly at that. Tino, average? He'd never heard anything so untrue in his entire life. But he did not know how to give compliments, or reassure people, so he simply asked, "Well… what's yer dream?"

Tino was silent for a moment. Berwald started to worry he had been inappropriate, but then Tino hummed thoughtfully. "My dream…"

"Yeah. If ye could have anythin', be anythin'."

"No, that's embarrassing!"

"I won't tell."

Tino lifted his head, looking up with narrow, wary eyes, and Berwald realised that he actually really, really wanted to know. "Promise?"

Berwald nodded. "Pr'mise."

"Well…" Tino seemed to think about answering for a moment. He bit his lip, took a deep breath, then spoke in a rush. "I just want a nice little house with a kid and a fluffy, white dog and a garden and the man of my dreams. I even want the white picket fence." Tino shrugged and looked into his hands. "Pathetic, huh."

Berwald's heart flipped almost painfully in his chest. He really could not handle this. "No. Not't all. Honest. And sweet."

Tino took another long sip of vodka, then pressed his finger to Berwald's lips. "But ssh, I'm not supposed to say that, or want that, because Eduard says that's, like, gender stereotypes and we shouldn't subscribe to those because that just sets our cause back fifty years but I don't even have a cause, I don't even really know what that means, but I think it means I'm supposed to be a lumberjack or something."

Berwald almost laughed again. "A lumb'rjack?"

"Yeah, you know. Tough, rugged. Eats pancakes, I believe. Red flannel is involved."

This time Berwald could not stop it. Tino was too cute, and too random, and Berwald laughed. He quickly broke off when Tino gasped and grabbed his arm. "Berwald!"

"Uh, what?"

"That's the first time I've heard you laugh!"

Berwald wasn't sure whether to feel embarrassed. "Oh."

Tino smiled. "You should do that more often, you're not so scary when you laugh. That was probably a silly thing to say, though, about the lumberjack. I'm glad Denmark didn't hear me say that..."

"Hear you say what?" Berwald was almost knocked sideways as Denmark vaulted the back of the couch and sat heavily between them. "House rule eleven, Sweden."

Berwald had to force himself not to punch Denmark in the jaw. "We're not in th'house," he grunted through gritted teeth.

Denmark eyed him disdainfully. "They still count."

Berwald held Denmark's steely gaze easily. "Is that explicitly stated?"

"I'm sure I could amend the rules to state it." Denmark scornfully articulated every word.

Berwald sneered. "Ye'd have to get a majority vote, wouldn't ye?"

Denmark narrowed his eyes and leant forward until his nose was almost touching Berwald's. "Sometimes, Sweden, I really don't like you very much."

Berwald was about to respond that the feeling was pretty damn mutual when Tino suddenly gasped and bounced on the couch. The music blasted even louder. "Oh, oh! I LOVE this song! Someone dance with me!"

Tino jumped up excitedly and almost ran into Iceland walking back from the bar. Tino took the drinks from Ice, placed them on the small table, and dragged him insistently towards the dance floor.

The song sounded like a thousand Berwald had heard before. But the second Ice and Tino started dancing, the entire club stopped to watch. Berwald had to admit – it was unlike anything he had ever seen. Iceland danced like he was born to do it. He moved effortlessly with the music; arms rising and falling gracefully, hips swaying tightly, his entire body perfectly in tune with the thumping bass and the flowing melody. His eyes, dark and lidded, took in the entire room as he moved with the beat.

But Tino – well. To be fair, impartial, and completely honest – Tino was quite possibly the worst dancer Berwald had ever seen. He started with some strange sort of epileptic shuffle, then moved on to a quite terrifying mixture of line dancing and flamenco, and once the beat started to get going, he simply jumped and down. People were avoiding him on the dance floor. Berwald, however, could not tear his eyes away from the perfect Finn.

"Sweden, you're pretty clueless, aren't you."

Berwald blinked at the intrusion on his thoughts, then practically choked on the audacity of Denmark saying those words to anyone. "Me?"

"Yes, do you see another freakishly tall, clinically pissed off looking Scandinavian nation around here anywhere?"

Berwald was really starting to wonder. "You've got s'rious pr'blems, Denmark."

"And you've got a serious speech impediment, honestly, I don't know what you are saying! No, don't try and repeat it, you'll only hurt yourself. As I was saying, you're clueless. Do you not see how glaringly obvious it is that you are in love with Finland?"

Berwald felt rather ill. How did everyone seem to know this? He was supposed to be good at hiding his emotions, damn it! Why was this the only one he could not hide? He glanced up at Tino, now attempting some kind of Broadway-inspired break-dancing, and realised – he had never felt anything like this. So how could he know how to hide it? Berwald glared at Denmark, calling upon his most intimidating expression. "Don't know what yer talkin' 'bout."

"Sweden, I'll make it simple." Denmark suddenly looked more serious than Berwald had ever seen him. It was jarring. "I've already seen one of my friends hurt. I will not see it happen again. So I swear to you, if you ever do anything to hurt Fin - I will break your fucking teeth."

Berwald paused for a moment. Denmark was serious about this. Maybe, somewhere beneath that mad, bizarre exterior, there really were things that he cared about. Again, Berwald looked up at Tino dancing. He was laughing wildly, jumping like he was in a mosh pit, completely oblivious to Iceland's perfectly smooth technique beside him. His blond hair flew in his beautiful face, his violet eyes flashed brightly; he was a fresh breeze of green grass and brilliant sunshine in a dank, booze-smelling pit.

Berwald glared at Denmark evenly, and replied honestly. "If I ever did anythin' to hurt 'im – I'd let you break more than m'teeth."

Denmark looked taken aback. Just then, Norway fell into the chair opposite. "This place is bullshit. The bastard behind the bar tried to stop serving me."

Denmark leant back and smiled brightly. "What'd you say to that?"

"I looked him in the eye and strongly suggested he reconsider."

"And?"

Norway held up a bottle. "Free drink."

Denmark giggled. "That's my boy."

Berwald again fixed his attention on Tino and Iceland on the dance floor. His view, however, was suddenly obstructed by three young men. The young, bespectacled blond sneered down with folded arms. "Why hello, Denmark! I didn't think the asylum let you out after nightfall!"

It took Berwald only a second to recognise them. Eduard, who had spoken and now looked down disdainfully at Denmark; Feliks, who was paying more attention to his cell phone than anything; and Toris, who looked distinctly uncomfortable. Tino seemed to have noticed at the same time, as he suddenly charged over and shrieked before Denmark had a chance to respond. Berwald winced.

"Oi, Finland!" shouted Denmark, placing a hand to his ear. "I need both my eardrums, you know!"

Tino ignored Denmark and threw his arms around the small group. "My friends! Yay, my friends are here!"

"Hey, Tino," said Eduard. Berwald glared at the boy's arm around Tino's waist. "How did you get in here oh great look your terrifying new housemate is here too…"

Tino laughed and pushed Eduard's shoulder. "Eduard, this is Berwald. Don't be mean."

Eduard smiled very carefully, but it did not reach his eyes. "It's nice to meet you properly, Berwald."

Berwald gritted his teeth and tried to be polite. "Hi." Eduard looked at him as though expecting him to go on. Berwald had no idea what else he was supposed to say.

Thankfully Denmark broke the awkward pause. "Well, well, so Mother Bear has let the Russian cubs out to play!"

Toris clenched his fists and growled angrily. "I. Am. Lithuanian!"

"That's what I said. Russian."

Toris looked like he was going to explode. "I... you... I… I need to go away."

Denmark threw a leg onto the coffee table to prevent Toris' escape, but his eyes were fixed on Eduard. "Estonia! I've told you a hundred times, you can't join Scandinavia, we're full. Go hang out with your Baltic brothers where you belong."

Eduard shook his head in disbelief. "Denmark, I wouldn't live with you if you paid me a thousand bucks a week and worked as my personal slave."

Norway downed the remainder of his drink. "He's broke, and he works for me."

Eduard's lip twisted. "I swear you're just as…"

Denmark sighed loudly. "Estonia, stop begging, please, you're embarrassing yourself."

Eduard pressed his lips together, breathed deeply through his nose, and turned to Tino. "How do you live with him?"

"How d'ye live with Ivan?" No one spoke. It took Berwald a few moments to be sure he was the one who had.

"Yeah," said Denmark finally, realising. He leant forward on the couch and glared indignantly at the three young men. "Yeah! I'm far better than that creepy Russian, at least I'm only fucking one of my minions!"

Despite the thumping music, the atmosphere turned cold and deathly silent. "Excuse me?" Feliks finally looked up from his phone, his hand on his hip and his expression deadly. "But, like, what the shit is that supposed to mean?"

Denmark smirked. "Come off it, Poland. Everyone knows Russia keeps your sweet little asses from being deported, and does what he wants with them in return."

Feliks lost it. Eduard and Toris barely managed to restrain the wild-eyed Pole as he charged. "I'll kill you, Denmark!" Feliks screamed. "I'll totally scratch your fucking eyes out!"

"Try it, sweetheart." Norway stood smoothly and stepped between Feliks and Denmark. "Try it and I will, like, totally rip that pretty little ponytail out of your scalp."

Berwald felt his shoulders tense as he prepared for some sort of eye-scratching, hair-ripping showdown. The tension broke, however, when Tino stumbled over and threw his arm around Norway. "Hey, hey!" Everyone stared as Tino laughed and gestured wildly. "Why can't we all just get along? It's like that song, you know. You know, that song. Berwald, tell them the song."

Berwald tried to sink into the couch. "Um, I… don't know what…"

"Yeah, that one." Tino started to sing tunelessly. "Why can't we all… just get along…" He trailed off, stopped, then glared intently at Eduard. "I don't like you guys fighting. You shouldn't fight, because you're all my friends, and…"

Eduard narrowed his eyes. "Tino, how much have you had to drink?"

Before Tino managed to respond, Iceland walked over and fixed Toris with a deep, bitter glare. Toris took an unsteady step backwards, turned red, and quickly looked away. "This place is tired," said Iceland calmly. "Let's go."

Berwald did not need to be told twice. He grabbed Denmark by the arm, pulled him off the couch, then pushed between Norway, Tino and his friends, sweeping his two housemates towards the exit. Iceland followed of his own accord. Tino shouted back as he was herded towards the door. "I'll call you guys tomorrow! Hey, hey, Feliks bro, tag me on Facebook!"

Berwald had learnt, many years earlier, that when some people reached a certain level of intoxication, it was impossible to stop them seeking further chemical stimulation and social interaction. Berwald now realised, as he and his housemates walked down the loud, busy, neon-lit inner city street, that he was currently with four of those people.

"What is their problem? I mean, what is their problem? Do you know what I mean, though? What is their problem?"

"Their problem is you, Den, you stupid bastard."

"No, baby, no, I mean besides me, what is their problem? Ice, man, you got any idea?"

"Their problem is that Ivan has convinced them they're something important and precious and beautiful but what they don't know yet is that one day he is going to rip their hearts out before their eyes, laugh in their faces, and force them to watch as he devours their very souls from a silver platter before washing it down with a glass of their own bitter tears."

"Ooh! Karaoke!"

Berwald turned his stunned gaze from Iceland's rather horrifying monologue, followed Tino's jumpy, excited gesture, then barely had time to keep up as the bouncing Finn took off across the street. The others seemed more than happy to follow Tino into the dark doorway, passing under a brightly flashing sign that read that most evil of all Japanese words: Karaoke. Berwald let out a long, resigned sigh, but had no choice but to follow.

The 'karaoke' bar was nothing but a fairly small, dodgy looking pub, filled with middle aged men who all stopped, turned, and stared at the five new arrivals. The music broke off, the housemates paused, and someone whistled. Denmark raised his fist in a salute. "Rock on." He nudged Iceland. "Hey, Ice, go dance on the bar."

Norway grabbed Iceland by a belt loop when he started to hurry off. "No, Ice." Norway glanced at Berwald. "He has a little trouble with sarcasm when he's drunk."

"Who's being sarcastic?" asked Denmark. Berwald raised his eyes to the ceiling, put a hand to his forehead, and wondered again just what the hell he was doing here.

"Hello!" cried Tino, waving cheerfully at the room in general.

Of course. That's why. Berwald took Tino's arm, put on his intimidation face, and led him to the bar. The music started again - some boring sounding ballad - followed moments later by a bored looking man on stage mumbling into the microphone. The men clustered around the tall tables went back to their drinks. The bartender looked over the bar and eyed the newcomers suspiciously. "You boys lose your way?"

Norway slammed a fifty down on the counter. "Not paying you to talk, bar bitch. Five shots of your strongest."

Denmark leant over Norway's shoulder. "And five beers."

"And five beers," added Norway.

"And some peanuts."

The bartender raised one dark, bushy eyebrow. Norway leant further over the bar. "You heard the man. Peanuts."

The bartender rolled his eyes, spread five shot glasses on the table, and reached for a tall, green bottle. Berwald's eyebrows shot up – this was the last thing any of his housemates needed at this stage. "Maybe that's not th'best…" It was too late. The others reached for the shots and downed them. Denmark cheered, Iceland coughed, and Norway slammed the glass back down on the bar before glaring at the bartender.

"Beer."

"Peanuts!"

Tino stared into his shot glass. "What is this? It tastes like burning liquorice."

"Abs'nthe," said Berwald.

Tino's face brightened "Oh! Like the French poets drank! I've seen the old pictures, I'm supposed to start seeing fairies now, aren't I?"

Iceland snorted. "Been seeing 'em all night, Fin. Here." Iceland passed Tino a beer and Berwald wondered if it would incredibly inappropriate to take it off him. He decided it would be, but was relieved when Tino took one sip and made a face.

"Eurgh, that's horrible. Here, Berwald, you can have it. Hey Norway, Norge, buy me another of those purple ones." Norway did so, and Berwald gritted his teeth.

"Hey Sweden," grinned Denmark, leaning back against the bar. "Why haven't we seen you dance yet? All Swedish men can dance. Get up on the bar with Iceland."

Norway again had to grab Iceland by a belt loop. "Sarcasm, Ice."

Berwald raised an eyebrow. "Is that th'same as all Danish men are unwashed alc'holics?"

Denmark threw back his head and laughed. "And Swedes all talk like this -" Denmark waved his hands in the air. "'I em freekeeshly tall und hef-a noo sense-a ooff hoomuoor. Hurty flurty schnipp schnipp!'"

Berwald tried not to roll his eyes. It was only a matter of time before the Swedish Chef jokes. "Sure, 'kay, and Danes're obsessed with bicyclin' and pornography."

"Hey, hey." Denmark raised a finger, a stern expression on his face. "I have never ridden a bicycle in my life. And at least my furniture doesn't all come from IKEA."

"No, it all comes from th'side of th'road."

Iceland whistled. "Ooh, snap." He elbowed Norway. "Isn't this kind of hot?"

"More absinthe!" shouted Norway. "By God, more absinthe."

Berwald shook his head and turned away, only to find that Tino was nowhere to be seen. His stomach dropped to his feet. "Where's Tino?"

Iceland took a sip of beer and pointed. Berwald scanned the crowd before spotting Tino standing near the stage, looking over the karaoke song list and talking animatedly with three large, hairy men dressed in head to toe leather. One looked like Crocodile Dundee in bondage gear, one had a sheepskin collar on his jacket, and one had gravity-defying hair and was smoking something that looked suspiciously like a joint.

Denmark laughed raucously, noticing at the same time. "Well, if it isn't Goldilocks and the three bears!"

Berwald's eyes flashed and he rushed over. Tino looked up from the plastic song book and broke into a delighted smile.

"Berwald! This is Oz, Ned, and…" Tino turned to the smallest, blond man. "I'm sorry, your name was?"

"You can call me Kiwi, love."

"Isn't his accent awesome?" breathed Tino."He's from New Zealand. Oz is from Australia, and Ned is from Holland, and they're all helping me find a song to sing!"

"Berwald!" cried Oz cheerfully. "Your boyfriend's adorable!" Berwald glared, but Oz just laughed. "Settle down, sweetheart, this one's mine." Oz leant over and kissed Ned on the cheek. Ned just blew out a mouthful of smoke. Yep – definitely a joint. "So, mate, you gonna sing a duet with this adorable boyfriend of yours?"

Tino burst into laughter. "Oh, no, he's not my boyfriend, Oz!"

Oz looked Berwald up and down, his dark eyes perceptive beneath even darker brows, his lips twisted in a smirk beneath a moustache worthy of the Village People. "Why not? He's gorgeous. He's got that strong, silent, kills things with his bare hands look going for him."

Tino just giggled again. "Berwald doesn't kill things, Oz! Berwald's really nice. He's never hurt anyone, ever, have you Berwald?"

Berwald lowered his eyes. He was thankfully saved from having to answer that awkward question when a familiar Euro-pop tune blasted from the stage, followed by Tino gasping, jumping, and crying out, "Oh my GOD! I LOVE this song!" Then he disappeared. Berwald blinked and spun around frantically.

"Good luck, mate." Berwald turned back to see Oz, Ned and Kiwi grinning at him. Well, Oz and Kiwi, anyway – Ned just sort of scowled. Oz continued, "This is the bit where you, ya know, run after the bloke or something."

"You do make a very cute couple, love," said Kiwi, winking.

Ned blew out a mouthful of smoke and asked smoothly, "Have you ever considered leather, Berwald?"

Berwald paused for only a moment. "Not rec'ntly," he answered, before pushing into the crowd in search for one very drunk, very happy, very still-damn-perfect Finn. It was only seconds before that familiar, though slightly slurred voice blasted through the pub.

"I LOVE THIS SONG!"

Berwald looked up to see Tino standing on stage with his shining violet eyes, his messy golden hair, his brilliant smile, and his tiny, tiny shorts. The room cheered in response and Tino started singing... or rather, shouting... just in time for the chorus.

"Waterloo - I was defeated you won the war." Tino grinned into the microphone, apparently attempting to sing as loud as humanly possible. A few shouts rang out from the crowd. "Waterloo – promise to love you forever more!"

Berwald felt his mouth drop open and his limbs turn rigid with shock. "Oh, m'God…"

"Waterloo – couldn't escape if I wanted to." The crowd started to clap along. "Waterloo – knowing my fate is to be with you!" Tino sang almost as badly as he danced. He also looked euphoric as he shouted into the microphone, and drew the attention of every person in the room. "Whoa oh oh oh, Waterloo - Finally facing my Waterloo!"

Berwald tried to rush for the stage but was stopped by a familiar, iron grip on his shoulder. Norway waved his beer. "And now you understand the 'No ABBA' rule."

Tino raised a hand above his head and lurched into the next verse. "My, my! I tried to hold you back but you were stronger!"

Denmark appeared beside them, cheering loudly and moving in some sort of mad, animated dance. "Woo yeah! Work it baby!"

"Oh yeah! And now it seems my only chance is giving up the fight."

Iceland threw an arm over Norway's shoulders, tilted his head to the side, and hummed thoughtfully. "I am never lending him my boots again, they look way too good on him."

Tino swung his hips in time with the music. "And how could I ever refuse?"

Berwald shook his head, partly transfixed and partly horrified. "We have to stop him!"

"I feel like I win when I lose!"

Denmark grabbed Berwald by the arm as he tried again to charge for the stage. "Are you kidding me? This is gold! Ooh, wait, I gotta get this on film…" Denmark took his phone from his pocket and started filming.

"Waterloo - I was defeated you won the war." All Tino's insecurities seemed to have melted away as he stood on this silly little stage in this silly little bar, singing his heart out to a brilliantly cliché Swedish pop tune. "Waterloo - promise to love you forever more!"

The crowd was cheering now, everyone in the pub caught up as Tino sang wildly into the microphone, waving his hand in the air and attempting some strange kind of clothed striptease. Berwald was caught between cheering along and wanting to beat down every man in the place.

"Waterloo - couldn't escape if I wanted to. Waterloo – knowing my fate is to be with you."

And finally Berwald stopped, thought clearly, and calmed down. Because Tino was adorable, and a little odd, and yes, he was drunk as hell, but he was also having the time of his life. Denmark raised his beer in the air, cheering; Iceland put his fingers to his mouth and whistled; and even Norway almost cracked a smile. Berwald just put his hand to his head and watched as Tino tried to sing, tried to dance, and succeeded in drawing the entire room to their feet.

"Whoa oh oh oh, Waterloo – finally facing my Waterloo!"

And when Tino's eyes met his, violet and wild and joyful, Berwald felt the next words he sang fire through his ears and make mad, perfect sense. "So how could I ever refuse? I feel like I win when I lose!"

Well, Berwald laughed inwardly. Wasn't that the truth.

"Waterloo – couldn't escape if I wanted to. Waterloo – knowing my fate is to be with you!"

"Greenland! Faeroe! Man, you guys missed the most amazing night! Tell them, Berwald, tell them what an amazing night they missed. Oh, they're asleep. Night, Greenland! Night, Faeroe! No but Berwald, wouldn't you totally go and see ABBA if they reformed? You'd have to, you're, like, culturally obligated or something. Is it just me or is this staircase moving? It's like Hogwarts! I saw 'Mamma Mia' last year and it was fabulous and I'm not just saying that because you're Swedish and night, Den! Night, Norge! Don't stay up too late, hur hur. Ice, I swear, if you don't put that phone down and go to bed I will throw this traffic cone at you. How did I get this traffic cone? Oh look, Berwald, we're in my bedroom." Berwald let out a very deep breath, silently cursed Iceland for giving Tino that last shot of Jägermeister, then lowered Tino from his shoulder and set him on his feet.

"You're not scary at all, are you Berwald, not really… you're actually really nice." Tino smiled as he fell forward. Berwald caught him and set him back straight. "You're reeeally nice, Berwald."

Berwald waited until Tino was standing steadily, then reluctantly took his hands from Tino's shoulders. "'kay. Time fer bed."

Tino smiled again, softer this time, and tilted his head. "Do you think I'm nice?"

"Yes." Berwald really hoped he would not have to deal with more drunk talk. Tino's drunk talk was too endearingly senseless to take much more of.

"Oh, good. And you're cute too! Oops I wasn't supposed to say that out loud." Tino reached up and pressed his finger to Berwald's lips. "Ssh, don't tell anyone. You know, Berwald…" Tino pulled up straight and fixed Berwald with a focused glare. "I really, really like you."

"Oh," said Berwald. "Good."

"Do you…" Tino dropped his hand to Berwald's shoulder, lowered his gaze, and paused. "… like me?" Tino looked up slowly, entrancingly, with alluring eyes through long, dark lashes.

Berwald's throat turned dry and the room began to spin. He blinked a few times, his mind blank, his body frozen. He couldn't… he didn't… No, Berwald told himself firmly. Tino was drunk, and in no way actually interested in him. But Berwald still answered his question honestly. "Yes. V'ry much."

Tino giggled happily and started playing absently with Berwald's collar. "Do you think I'm sexy?"

Oh shit oh shit oh shit… Berwald could barely breathe. An inferno fired from the touch of Tino's hands, across Berwald's skin and into his veins, flooding his chest and his gut and spreading lower and… "Think yer sexy." Berwald summoned every ounce of strength in his possession, took Tino's warm, soft hands in his, and pushed them away. "Also think yer drunk." Tino did not take the hint. He flattened his hand on Berwald's chest and met his gaze earnestly.

"Berwald, that Australian in the bar, Oz, it's so funny, he thought you were my boyfriend, isn't that funny?"

Berwald again tried to push Tino gently away, fighting the treacherous desire flooding his veins. "H'larious."

"Berwald?"

"Yes?"

"I... I..." Tino's expression went blank and he turned white. "I think I'm going to throw up." Tino promptly bent at the waist and vomited on Berwald's shoes. Neither moved. After a few very long, very silent moments, Tino looked up slowly, his face distraught. "I think I need to go to bed," he whispered.

Berwald actually had to stop himself from laughing. No one but Tino could look so perfectly adorable at a moment like this. Berwald nodded and attempted to smile kindly – not an expression he was used to, and he wasn't sure he managed it. But when Tino looked at him with those wide, helpless violet eyes, Berwald's heart melted. And he'd really thought he couldn't fall any further. "Yes. I'll help you."

Berwald practically carried Tino to the bed, pulled off the ridiculous white boots, and drew the covers up to his chest. Tino was asleep the second his head hit the pillow. Berwald could not stop himself staring silently at Tino's sleeping face. His eyelashes dark against pale skin; his lips stained blue from coloured vodka.

And Berwald found himself wondering, for the first time, if Tino might ever feel something for him. But even as he thought it, Berwald knew it was impossible. Tino was pure and strange and beautiful; he wanted gardens and family and white picket fences. What did Berwald have? Crippling debt and a criminal history. He was not worthy of someone as good as Tino.

Berwald allowed himself to very briefly brush a lock of hair from Tino's warm forehead before turning and leaving the room. "G, night Tino."

Next Chapter

Disclaimer: This story belongs to George deValier. Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. I own nothing.

#catch perfect chapter 6

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songketalliance · 6 years ago

Text

“Kurus Sudah Lawa”: My Experience with Anorexia

“People could compliment my looks all they want when I got thin, but most days I couldn’t see it, and if I managed to feel good looking in the mirror, it would only last a brief moment because I knew about all the little flaws, the stubborn fat and stretchmarks I was hiding underneath my clothes.”

A contribution by Iddie Mo

People appear surprised when they find out how I used to be anorexic, either because I’m a pretty big guy, or simply because I am a guy.

While my mother was pregnant with me, she rapidly gained weight. The doctor felt it was necessary to conduct a caesarean two months prematurely- basically, yes, I was born that way.

There’s this idea of anorexia that people have, been guilty of it myself, where the person afflicted must be extremely sickly looking to ‘qualify’; the expression “you’re skin and bones” would have to be a literal description, or else, is it really anorexia?

My body didn’t look skeletal when the doctor gave me six months to live.

It’s easy to blame the media for unhealthy representations of an ‘ideal body’. While I won’t completely dismiss its influence, my main source of criticism growing up came from family, teachers and peers. These weren’t imaginary people on a television screen, pictures on some ad or magazine cover; they were people I had to interact with every day, the ones I’m supposed to trust and learn from the most.

In kindergarten, a girl had refused to sit next to me because she thought my fat was disgusting. There’re home videos of me crying because someone told me my hair was messy or my teeth weren’t white enough. I was an annoyingly sensitive child who learnt very early on that having good looks meant being respected.

Being big boned and having a very slow metabolism is an unfortunate combination, top it off with a bit of stress eating.

For years, family would pinch my body, waddle my chin, teachers would randomly ask me about my meals and laugh or smirk afterwards.

Eventually enough was enough and I got myself a workout VCD pushing myself to move more in a short period of time than I ever had before in my life.

It started out alright, but I wasn’t seeing the results that I wanted, so I worked-out longer. Instead of doing the work-out segments partially, depending on the day of the week like the instructional video said to do, I just did the whole shebang every day. More work, more payoff, right? “No pain, no gain”- so I made sure to feel pain.

‘Obsessive’ would be an understatement, if I missed a day, I’d double my work-out time the next day to make up for it. After some time, if I felt like my body could withstand the pain a bit more, I would take advantage of adrenaline and powered on.

There were days when I’d be working out for fourteen hours.

Logically, to “aid” my terrible metabolism, I’d have to burn off more than what I consumed, so I consumed less and then, illogically, way less.

My diet initially consisted of items like tuna, chillies, high-fibre crackers, cucumber sushi and a cheese cube. I would practice restraint by drinking lots of water and seeing how many days I could stretch these foods for, rationing them as if it were the apocalypse or something. Days where food wouldn’t be touched at all became more and more frequent as the illness progressed. Even when I experienced internal bleeding my crusade against fat persisted.

At some point, even being around the vicinity of food made me ill, the smell of wafting oily food cooking was especially bad. It felt like the oil in the air was attacking me inside and out, I had this disgusting image of the oils infiltrating my body and squeezing out like pus out of my pores. It made me want to rip my skin off; food was poison.

I was getting really skinny, but I have big bones so with clothes on I looked “normal”, but I still felt fat. I couldn’t believe I was thin, I really couldn’t “believe” it. The bit of fat that people would pinch was still goddamn there wasn’t it? So I must not be doing enough, I must still be fat.

You know those movies? Where the girl used to be fat and then she lost a lot of weight and she’s suddenly gorgeous and the target of affection by practically everyone around her? That obviously didn’t happen to me like in the movies, still;

I was treated better.

Folks spoke to me nicer and I would turn heads.

The ones who knew me since childhood were surprised and ecstatic that I had lost all that weight, I looked good and they didn’t hesitate to sing praises.

I’d even overhear people talking positively behind my back. It’s one thing to be complimented to your face, but when you catch people whispering behind you, saying stuff like how attractive you are, it is a huge ego boost.

I remember walking into the kitchen and my father suddenly having this big beaming smile plastered on his face. He told me I was beautiful. I gave him a sheepish smile asked him if he was sure he didn’t mean ‘handsome’. “Kurus sudah lawa”.

To my knowledge, my father had never called me beautiful. To my knowledge, my father hadn’t called me beautiful since then.

The euphoria from being complimented didn’t last too long though as I’d get too preoccupied with my ‘flaws’, too self-conscious.

“Could they see my fatty folds under this shirt? I should’ve worn two layers”.

“Can they see my stretchmarks? Are my arms waddling?”

“Shouldn’t have worn such a tight T-shirt, I must look like a stuffed sausage”.

Find myself subconsciously rubbing my “problem areas”, pinching the fat, scratching it. Sound familiar?

People could compliment my looks all they want, but most days I couldn’t see it, and if I managed to feel good looking in the mirror, it would only last a brief moment because I knew about all the little flaws, the stubborn fat and stretchmarks I was hiding underneath my clothes. I couldn’t seem to get satisfied, so my diet and exercise got even more intense, hoping everything would tighten up already, until the day I collapsed.

I was walking around in a supermarket and a woman in a yoghurt drink stand was offering samples. I thought to myself “Well I’ve been good with my diet. I hadn’t had anything in a while, might as well treat myself”. I accepted a strawberry yoghurt drink sample and that’s when it happened.

My vision started to go askew, my head spun; I tried to walk it off.

I fainted not long after.

The doctor didn’t hold anything back. He told me that if I didn’t stop treating my body like shit, I could possibly die in six months.

Should I have been shocked considering how badly I treated my body? I never thought the whole “you have six months to live” thing will ever be said to me, it sounded like something that would only happen in movies. I’ve seen pictures of women with anorexia, where they are so skinny and frail; it looked like a poke would break them apart. So I thought I was fine, my bones did not jut out as much as theirs, I still have “fat”- how could I be dying? This was my thought process, this was how I justified harming my body.

“Just eat” was easier said than done, most foods made me feel ill, but I had to get better. I started the recovery process by force-feeding myself small amounts of food, making an effort to keep the nausea at bay. Detested the idea of eating oily foods again, but I made a point to do it, because I knew I’d be confronted with all sorts and I needed to be okay with that. It wasn’t just my body I needed to fix; I had to heal my mind as well.

After the nausea issue lessened, my mind went through a tug-of-war, between all of my previous bad eating habits that included, the ones I’ve accumulated with anorexia nervosa and the stress eating I had before.

Took approximately two years after the incident in the supermarket, for me to be able to choose a meal for the taste, and not because I felt I needed it just for sustenance. This was a milestone for me- I considered myself ‘healed enough’, because realistically, there may never be a day when I’d be so completely comfortable in my own body; I am only human after all.

That being said, there were instances where I would catch my reflection and thought “I look good” and I let myself revel in it and work hard to push away the negative thoughts telling me I’m being so vain- I spent most of my life hating my body, I refuse to guilt myself for loving it.

In fact, I’ll go off on a tangent right now to overshare a little more and appreciate: my legs. I am a man who is proud of his damn sexy legs, these gams have to carry the rest of my (heavy ass) weight every day and it must’ve made them toned as fuck, my calves are chiselled; if Michael Angelo had a calf fetish, he’d love mine too.

Moving on.

When the weight came back, people’s attitudes did as well.

“What a shame” they’d say.

“Masa atu kurus sudah, eat less!”

“Ah, kau besar sebab malas tu, mesti exercise”.

Being big seems to give people this impression that they have some kind of right to explicitly voice out their negative thoughts and assumptions about you.

You’d think people would back off commenting on my weight after what had gone on, some kindly have, but the truth of the matter was most of them didn’t know or even considered anorexia a possibility. It was the early 2000’s eating disorders were still considered typically a ‘female issue’ and men need to ‘toughen up’ or ‘walk it off’. For the longest time, I didn’t say anything and partially convinced myself it wasn’t a big problem because, as a man, I should be able to handle it. So there would be those who rolled their eyes, not realising that despite being much heavier, I was the healthiest I’d ever been.

Now, I’m not saying that one should be delusional and dismiss the health benefits that come with being a certain weight, but while my body’s not perfect, I wholeheartedly believe that I have grown into a state of mind which is able to find a balance I could live with.

My body and mind are my responsibility.

To anyone who is going through any form of body dysmorphic disorder, know that your body and your mind is how you experience the world, no one else gets to be you. You can’t truly help someone who isn’t ready to help themselves, so when you recognise you’ve got a problem and you’re ready to get better, take control of your life, healing by your terms. You will have the biggest impact on yourself, be aware and choose wisely- understand and discover what that means to you- it is in my honest opinion, the best way to find some kind of inner peace.

Kurus sudah lawa? Sweetheart, have you seen these legs? =)

A contribution by Iddie Mo

Songket Alliance urges those with mental health conditions to seek out help, which are available in the form of school counsellors, in selected private clinics, as well as major health centres including RIPAS.

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#brunei #writing #mental health #contribution

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ragingbulldurham · 8 years ago

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OOHEMMMM!!!! Your back!!!!!!!!!!!! Wow! Owen and Claire having a first trip abroad.

I’m a little rusty, so hopefully this is acceptable!

They decided on Europe for their honeymoon. “I think we’ve had enough of the tropics for one lifetime,” Claire was firm on this, her computer perched on her lap as she threw out suggestions of Paris and Tuscany and Prague, her feet tucked under Owen (“My feet are cold,” she had whined, and Owen had rolled his eyes but let her slide her toes under him. “Are you sure you want to rule out the beach?” He teased and she threw an impressive glare his way). “Why not do all three?” Owen shrugged. “You have the time off.” Claire had learned to strike a better work/life balance, but years of never taking a day off had meant that she had accumulated approximately a million days off, and while Island Claire would have thought the world would end if she took off that much time, Post Island Claire had lived through the world almost ending, and was very aware that taking time off from the office would not have the same impact as a hybrid dinosaur on the loose. "We can start in Paris and work our way across Europe? I hear they have a very efficient train system, and I know how much you love efficiency.“ He waggled his eyebrows at her.

"I do really love efficiency,” Claire had replied with a grin. And she also loved the idea of traveling across Europe with her new husband, her hand tucked in his as the countryside rolled past, her head on his shoulder. It was dreamy and romantic, and while Claire and Owen were a lot of things, they could stand a little more dreamy and romantic in their lives. Claire began sending Owen itineraries and train schedules, and much like with their wedding, he told her he was leaving it all in her capable hands. “I trust you,” he said as she listed off the amenities of a farmhouse in Tuscany. “Book whatever you want. I’m sure it’ll be perfect.” He pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder and left her alone to her maps and timetables and forty open browser tabs. He knew that Claire was in planning, panicky mode, and figured planning the honeymoon was a great way to distract her from worrying about the wedding. The wedding was to be small, simple, and Owen was half afraid that Claire would stress about every small detail, but she amazed him by keeping calm about the whole thing. “I just want to be married to you,” she said as they lay in bed, her fingers dancing across Owen’s bare chest as he pulled her more tightly to him. “I don’t care about the ceremony. I’d just as soon go down to a justice of the peace if I didn’t think Karen would kill both of us.” He buried his nose in her hair and snorted. “She really would kill us,” he replied, and felt Claire’s head nod. “But I don’t, I don’t care about it. I want it to be small and meaningful and at the end of the day, I just want to be your wife.” It was, Owen reflected, amazing how a life and death situation could make someone reevaluate their priorities. And both he and Claire had done a lot of reevaluating when they arrived back on US soil, traumatized, battered, but very much alive.

And he was right to trust her.

Their wedding was perfect. Claire slid down the aisle towards him in a lace dress, her hair (longer now, the cut less severe) falling down her shoulders in loose waves. He couldn’t help it, he leaned in as soon as she reached him, kissing her hard and breathing out, “you’re so beautiful,” to which Claire’s eyes brimmed with tears and her smile widened and she reached and entangled their fingers. Karen stood next to Claire as her matron of honor, crying softly, and Barry stood grinning next to him as his best man. The only people in the room were the people that Owen cared most about in the world, and there was no one on earth he loved more than the woman he was pledging to spend his life with.Claire had arranged for their favorite pub to be rented out, and they drank and danced until Owen was so tired he couldn’t stand anymore, and he slipped his arm around his bride and whispered, “why don’t we get out of here?” Claire had grinned at him, reaching up to squeeze the hand that was on her shoulder, and nodded.“Lead the way, husband,” the word delicious on her lips. Two days after they were married, they caught a flight to Paris, and Owen spent the better part of the plane ride in awe that he had married this woman, and marveling at the slim bands on both of their fingers. He had never seen Claire in tourist mode before, and he was one part amused and one part terrified by her. “You have the ruthless efficiency of a German,” he commented, the pride evident in his voice as they sped through the streets of Paris towards their hotel, having gotten off the plane, gotten their luggage, and into a cab in a record amount of time. “Thanks,” Claire smirked. “I’m taking that as a compliment.”“I meant it as a compliment,” Owen assured. “That was…hot.” She raised an eyebrow and grinned at him. “Well, we have plenty of time before our dinner reservations. I was thinking we could go visit a museum, but….” “I like the but,” he told her, moving her hair out of the way so that he could kiss her neck. “I really like the but.”

Paris was a whirlwind of candlelit dinners, and walks along the Seine. Claire surprised him by how much knowledge she had about art as they wandered in and out of art museums. “I was an art history minor,” she said with a shrug. “You continue to surprise me, Claire Dearing,” Owen told her, shaking his head.“Grady,” she corrected, and his eyes widened. “I thought you were keeping your name,” he said, surprised. “At work, yes,” Claire answered. “But I think I want to be a Grady. I think I want us to share a name.” Owen swept her into his arms and kissed her. “What if I changed my name to Dearing?” He suggested, “Arguably a hell of a lot more people know the name Claire Dearing than Owen Grady.” The name Grady meant nothing to Owen. He had no allegiance to the son of a bitch who left his mother with nothing but a load of debt and his last name. Claire looked thoughtful, “Owen Dearing.” She tilted her head slightly. “I think it has a nice ring to it.” He tugged on the scarf wrapped around her neck and pulled her to him, kissing her softly. “I agree.”

They take the train into Geneva out of Paris, and from Geneva they head to Milan. Spring is beginning to creep in, but it’s still a little chilly and Claire used it as an excuse to wrap her arm around Owen’s and pull him close to her. Claire does a good bit of shopping in Milan, spending the absurd salary that Masrani paid her. Owen dutifully carried the bags and vetoes any attempts by Claire to get him to make his wardrobe a bit more chic. “You’ve come a long way since board shorts,” she finally said with a sigh, accepting defeat. “I guess I can’t complain too much.” But he still catches her sneaking ties and expensive dress shirts in his size into her bags when she thinks he’s not looking. From Milan they make their way down to Florence, nearly missing their connection in Bologna because of a mix up with the train schedule. (“You read the schedule wrong, just admit it!” Owen exclaimed, and Claire huffed. “I did not,” she argued. “They must have misprinted it!”) For half of the ride from Bologna, they don’t speak, anger mixed with stubbornness and travel exhaustion creeping in from a week of going going going nonstop, but Owen coudln’t stand it after a while and inched his fingers until his hand rested on top of hers as the train chugged along. Claire didn’t turn her head from where she was looking out the window, but she did give his fingers a light squeeze. When they finally arrived at their hotel in Florence, Claire sighed, throwing herself on the bed.

“Fuck the itinerary, I’m exhausted.” Owen was relieved, dropping their bags on the floor and climbing into bed fully clothed next to her, curling up around her. They fall asleep to the sounds of Florence, and it’s dark both outside and in their room when they finally wake up a few hours later. They find a restaurant only a block away and eat a mound of pasta and drink a couple of bottles of wine and then head straight back to their hotel. They hit Florence refreshed, eating gelato and visiting more museums. They take the train to Lucca and rent bikes and ride along the walls. They Facetime with Gray and Zach, and take a day here and there to not leave their hotel room. They take a train to Munich next, Owen teasing Claire that he didn’t know beer was on her diet. They finish up in Prague, taking long afternoons to just get lost in the city, hands intertwined, hips bumping as they walk along cobblestone streets.

On the last night of their honeymoon, limbs tangled together in a sweaty and satiated pile, Owen recounting the places they’d been over the past few weeks and the things they had seen, and she can’t remember a time when she felt so content, and so loved, God, so loved.

“I like Tourist Claire,” Owen said as they waited in the Prague airport for their flight home. Claire looked up from the book on her lap and gave him a lazy smile. “I like Tourist Owen,” she replied. “And I definitely liked the lack of mosquitos and palm trees.” She had missed big cities and museums during her years on the island. She had missed traveling and losing track of time in front of an incredible piece of art. There had been many parts of her job and her life on Isla Nublar that she had loved, but the farther removed she was, the more she realized how much she had given up. “Not to mention the lack of dinosaurs,” Owen winked, and Claire snorted. “And that,” she agreed. They were quiet again, Claire leaning her body into his and Owen wrapping an arm around her shoulder as they watched the other travelers in silence. “Hey,” he said quietly, and she tilted her head to be able to look at him. “As much as I loved spending this trip with you, I’m pretty excited to go home.” And she nodded, tipping her head back to rest again him, thinking about how different things were from the last time they waited for a flight together. They weren’t bloodied and bruised, wondering if they still had jobs, and having no place to go to once they left Costa Rica. They were happy, they were married, they were heading home. They were heading home.

#clawen #prompt #claire x owen #Owen Grady #Claire Dearing #I'm back baby!

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