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luveline · 1 year ago

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kisses before dinner — steve comes home to his girls after a long day. 2k, mom!reader

Steve has a back ache twinging between his shoulders that takes his breath away as he treks the last step up to the front door. The door gets caught on the latch when he pushes it open, which is awesome, Steve’s so glad you’re being safe late at night, but deplorable in that he has wood grain etched into his jaw and no way inside.

“Girls?” He knocks the glass pane. “Anybody home?”

Everyone should be home. Your car is in the driveway, the girls’ shoes are by the wall. He pushes the door open as far as he can (not far) and weasels his face into the gap to look for you. It’s dark besides the upstairs bathroom light.

Steve calls your name a few times, but eventually comes to the realisation that you’re all asleep and he’s locked out. He closes the door and heads back to his car to scrounge the spare back door key from under his seat.

He fights through the garden gate covered in brambles to the backyard. It hasn’t been touched since summer, forgotten things left to the elements. Avery’s bike flakes with copper coloured rust against the wall. The trampoline net is tangled and fallen off of one side. There are plastic cups in the stinging nettles growing back beneath it and gummy bears swollen with water along the paving stones like some poor retelling of Hansel and Gretel. He unlocks the back door and promptly knocks over the trash can he’d left in front of it. His back whines as he cleans it away, but at least it’s warm inside.

It’s good to be home.

He shoves the toppled garbage back into the can, washes tomato sauce off of his hands in the sink, and lets himself bask in his own poorly lit company for a moment, rubbing his tired eyes. He was hoping for a welcome party. It took longer to help Robin move than they’d anticipated.

“I won’t be back for a while,” he’d said apologetically down the phone.

“Okie dokie,” you’d crooned. He didn’t need to see you to know there was a baby in your lap. “Just come home when you can, babe. And lift with your knees! I’ll put your plate in the fridge, yes? Love you.” Your voice turned to sugar. “Love you, love you, love you, honey.” You definitely weren’t talking to him at that point. Mother of my kids, he’d thought reverently, the strength of a thousand men restored for an hour or two before the fatigue truly set in and he and Robin considered leaving the rest of her furniture on her new front lawn.

He scratches his hair from his eyes with both hands. Mother of my kids, he thinks again. You’ve actually managed to keep the kitchen tidy, the only evidence of a day of play being the grape juice rings on the dining table placemats. How the fuck you’ve done it is a miracle worth marvelling. Three children, one (admittedly smaller) baby bump, and a full eighteen hours by yourself. You’re very impressive.

He decides to tell you emphatically with his face in your neck. He should shower, and he will apologise to you for subjecting you to his sweaty hair in the morning. You’ll shrug off his apology, say something sweet about for better or worse or maybe wrinkle your nose and kiss him anyways.

Steve honestly can’t find any shame about how much he likes you. Like and love can begin to diverge in a marriage, especially after kids when your duty as parents is more important than it is as partners, but you’ve yet to let him pull away, and he won’t give you a reason to. He’ll keep trying as hard as possible to be a husband you can adore. And you don’t have to do much, really. Realistically you give the majority of yourself every day to Steve and your kids, but he would cling to you if you got sick of it. He knows he would. You could turn hermit and live under the bed, and Steve would spend half his life on his stomach just looking at you.

Half trying to pull you out again. The other half getting the girls ready for school. He’s so tired he doesn’t realise that this is too many halves.

When he gets to the top of the stairs he feels like a lifetime has passed since he left that morning, bright and early at 5AM. There’d been driving, car swaps, booing at people from behind the wheel, a hundred boxes, a million trips up and down the stairs, and a suspicious washing machine recalibration. This was without the cold coke drinking, peanuts, popcorn, mistimed movie references, and the obligatory insulting of Robin’s girlfriend’s mauve chaise, of which Robin refused to participate.

Between all that, there’d been worrying, and a want for more phone calls. Promise me you’ll call me if you need anything at all, he’d said that morning, giving your face a fond caress. There’s a confidence that comes with this much love. Steve can pour every inch of his affection for you into one touch and knows you’ll soak it up like a sponge. Really. Any problems, any stress, any tantrums. Just call me. I’m ten minutes away.

You were grateful if amused, telling him he didn’t need to worry so much, and then offering him another slice of toast.

Is it weird how much I love my wife? he wonders, pushing open the bedroom door gently.

You’re actually awake! He’s shocked and a little betrayed to find you looking at him, but the betrayal fades when he notices the swelling around your eyes and your trembling arm as you hoist yourself up under Avery’s weight. He’s woken you up coming in.

“Sorry,” he mouths, frowning at your shakiness.

You manage a smile and beckon him forward. The problem is the little ladies strewn about in the way. Avery drools on your chest while Dove takes up the entirety of Steve’s side, spread into a star shape, and Bethie snores loudly by your knees. An especially aggressive one makes him laugh as he rounds the bed to your side.

“Hello,” he whispers, taking your face into a loving hand, “sorry I’m back so late.”

You smile into his palm but don’t say anything.

“You okay? Had a good day?” he asks.

You hum something nonsensical. He wipes at your cheek in the rough way you enjoy, your face bumped with every stroke of his thumb.

“Did you…” Your eyelashes flutter closed. “Did you eat?”

“Loads. Sorry. I’ll eat my dinner tomorrow.”

You wrinkle your nose. He’s been dying to see it. “Don’t bother, it wasn’t my best.”

“All dinners are your best.”

You cover his hand with yours, and then you steal it away from your cheek and kiss it all over. Steve bends down to hug you.

“Missed you,” you say at the same time. Steve laughs. “Was it a long day?” you ask.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“It was aeons,” you say. “The girls were good, mostly. Baby not so much.”

“Aw, no,” he croons softly, “what’s she been doing?”

“She won’t let me eat.”

Steve rubs the top of your arm. “I’m sorry, honey. You should’ve called me.”

“What are you gonna do, H?”

He breathes out into the side of your face. “You’re right, like always. What can I do?”

He can’t do a thing to ease your morning sickness, so… Steve ends up taking a knee on the bed beside you to hold you for a while, no rush to lay down even though he aches in strings and shouts. “I’m glad I can’t get pregnant. I’d have hundreds of your babies if I could and it would be torture.”

You laugh at his absurdity in the giggly startled way he’d been hoping for.

“Did you throw up?” he asks, pulling away enough to see your face while his hand starts the soft journey down your front to your bump. You’re about three months along and the bump came quickly. It’s cute and Steve loves it and he tries not to be weird about it but he’s weird about you.

“No, just kept churning. I made eggs for breakfast and we can’t eat them anymore.”

Steve kisses your cheek, the corner of your eye, knowing it’ll make you happy. Your smile follows swiftly after, and he kisses that with gusto. “I don’t even like eggs,” he mumbles.

“You love eggs.”

“What was it like being the stay at home mom today?” he asks.

“Hard. But fun. Avery was being really nice to me all day, did you have something to do with that?”

“Avery’s always nice.”

Your smile widens impossibly, “Yeah, but she was asking me if I wanted to sit down and if I needed a glass of water all day.”

Steve shrugs. “Doesn’t sound like something I’d do.”

“Well don’t do it again, H. She’s just a baby. She doesn’t need to worry about me.”

Steve strokes your forehead, totally in your orbit. “She’s not worrying. Are you worrying about her when you take care of her? And sometimes you need a reminder.”

You chew it over. “Okay… you’re right. You win that one, Harrington. Mostly ‘cos I’m too tired.”

Steve always wins when he gets to slide into bed next to you. You push yourself over and bunch the kids up tighter. There’s not quite enough room for him. He feels as though he’s one little legged kick from falling back out, but he doesn’t mind, wrapping an arm around you and Avery where she’s sliding off of you and onto the mattress between you both. The poor girl is in a deep sleep, dribbling from the corner of her mouth. Steve wipes it away.

“You comfortable enough?” he asks.

“I’m fine. Thank you for asking.”

He rests his head against yours on the pillows. “Missed you.”

“But you had fun, right?”

“It was great. I feel like I ran a marathon.”

“Exhausted?” you ask.

“And accomplished… You sure you’re okay? It was a long day by yourself. That stunt you pulled in the kitchen? Incredible.”

“I thought you’d like that. I told the girls you’d buy them a pony.”

“You did not.”

You laugh into his cheek. “No, I didn't, you caught me… I’m fine, really. I did miss you. It’s not nice, not seeing you. I’m used to a couple of hours, but it started feeling wrong when it was dark out, I… it’s silly but I was thinking about how horrible it would be if you never came back–”

Your pitch lifts up as Steve gasps and slaps a hand over your mouth (doesn’t slap, but covers, big hand on your lips and pressing them shut without sympathy).

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He meets your eyes, smiling hard despite the fatigue clinging to you both, and doesn’t buckle, even as you kiss his palm again. “Pregnancy brain is a scary thing.”

Your eyes turn to melting. He’s putty immediately, pulling your hand away to caress your cheek.

“Wanna be crazy in love in the morning?” he asks gently. You put your arm behind Avery’s back and smile as she snuggles into your ribs. Steve kisses your nose. “Go to sleep, honey. I can feel how tired you are. Back to normal in the morning.”

“Love you, Steve.”

“Love you, too.”

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applejusue · 17 days ago

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ellie williams ─── little misfortunes

𓆩♱𓆪 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 Ⅰ ─── impasse

A series of killings in a small town spread quickly, pitchforks sharpened, and curfews imposed. Ellie led a quiet life, well aware of the town's suspicions of her. After discovering a black shadow with glistening fangs sunk into a bloody gent outside a tavern, she finds herself grappling with accusations. What will happen when Ellie, bound to an altar and dressed in white, becomes the wife of the very woman who committed the massacre?

◟`# cw: blood, dracula, violence, murder, rituals, cult activity, animal feeding, sexual themes, feeding, arranged marriage, grief, slow-burn, love.

taglst '# @eleanorsghost, @imdrowningindispair, @mo0nnstarz, @azteriarizz

index | next chapter . . .

Dark charcoal smeared across Ellie's brow as she wiped her face with a sweaty arm, the sun beating down against her flushed cheeks. The sounds of sheering metal clashing was one so familiar, she could probably fall asleep to it by now. The daughter of a blacksmith, hardened, and filthy. That wasn't to say Ellie wasn't drawn to beauty, like the softness of the baker's daughter or the allure of the Parisian seamstress. She'd easily be found loitering about the town square, seeking out a glimpse of soft lace or parasol.

It grew mostly from curiosity, curiosity of the traits that she lacked. Growing up, she was sooner to mend a broach than wear one. Ellie had some pretty dresses, but quite sparingly were they worn for anything. It wasn't as though she got invited to many of the town gatherings, not with the locals so wary of her. Her father had a highly praised workshop and a damn steady hand, able to create the most beautiful daggers and blades for the servicemen. Try as she might to take it over after his passing, the folks drifted, stopped showing.

Ellie held up the little amber ring she had been crafting all morning with a gloved hand, a carefully formed copper with engravings and a warm stone. It glistened in the sun, reflecting some of the orange glow onto her dirty face. She lowered it to rest on her ring stand before heading inside the small one room cabin to drag a wet cloth over her face. Once she was relatively cleaned up, she pulled on a cotton over shirt and brown skirt that rested just above her ankles.

After rooting out an old woolen sack, Ellie gathered all of her little trinkets and jeweler pieces into the bag. She trudged down the pathways with it slung over her shoulder, heading to her small market stall along the merchant line. The breeze ruffled through her braided hair, the scents of fresh fish and coastal waters giving her a bit more liveliness than her morning in the workshop. She weaved through passing carts and stands, fresh fruits and remaining crops bartering to be sold before the summer heat dried them out.

As she approached her stall by the pier she noticed someone else setting up beside her, that was a surprise. Nevertheless she focused on her own place, laying out her little trinkets and hand made crafts, hoping to entice any traveling couples who make take interest while in a besotted haze. Across her board she had broaches, bracelets, rings and even more simplistic items like hair pins and candle holders. The sun continued to blaze down against the paths, splitting stones with the heat of it's gaze. Ellie was thankfully shielded by the small shade created by the canopy braced above her stall.

Beside her was an older man, with a long silver beard braided with beads. His hair was much the same, down to his lower back and split in all directions. His eyes were hidden under a bushy brow, cheeks sunburned and faintly smudged with black liner as he laid out his treasures. Ellie couldn't help her curiosity at the stranger who wore leather in the heat of summer, old stubbed hands covered in silver rings and scars. Moving from her stall, she approached his board with fishing hooks, rope net, and jars of herbal powders that no doubt came from across the waters.

"Fine day, ay.."

Ellie spoke up, her gaze roaming along some of the glittery pearls that would make fine earrings, or the shimmer powder that would decorate a hot blade. The man nodded, leaning back on his stool and pushing his sweat glistened hair out of his face. With a better view now, his red cheeks were stubborn from sunburn, the lines around his eyes carefully carved from years at work. He had the hands of a sailor, and that intrigued her.

However, Ellie also noticed among the powdered jars were little artifacts and omens, 'love potion,' one read. She bit back a scoff, knowing that he, like her, was also trying to entice a wistful audience. It was more likely a red stained jar full of sea water. The people of the town all but lived off legends, stories that grew around the walls like weeds. Joel used to recant them to her when she was a young girl, about the great vampire slain and the harvest of moonshine. Ellie thought it was silly, simple stories to keep her inside after dark. It seemed to have a grip on the entire village though, with a strict ten o'clock curfew for all except servicemen. Not that many obeyed such rules, especially once at the tavern.

Her gaze was torn sideways when a horse and cart trotted by, two body shaped flour sacks tied with rope being brought along by a solemn rider. She lowered her head in respect, a reminder that this town was no safe place. People were trying to pretend that everything was fine, with the parades and the upcoming summer festival, but she knew better.

"There's still one more.."

The merchant's voice caught her ear, low and strained like a life of fumes. He dragged a herbal scented cigar to his lips, watching the cart pass by with a look of recognition.

"Pardon?"

Ellie's head snapped back to him, jaw tilting in mild confusion.

"Every summer, near the solstice.. s'same pattern o' killings..

He spoke it as though it was obvious, smoke drifting from his cracked lips as he cocked a head at her. Ellie was sure he could see that she hadn't the faintest of what he was talking about, so he continued.

"S'always the Marshall's family, the boys anyway.."

That had certainly captured her interest. She'd noticed the killings sure, and faintly drawn the connection that the town leader's descendants never lasted long. Her speckled brow furrowed with interest, and she moved back behind her stall. Neither of them were busy on a hot summers mornin' like this, not like the townsfolk were still collecting crop and going about chores.

"Could be a coincidence, they always seem to be gettin' into some trouble or other.."

Ellie muses with a shrug, unconvinced and knowing that the raunched squires loved to raid the taverns well after curfew. As far as she was aware it was no surprise they often ended up wounded in peculiar places with beer and blood splattered every which way. The merchant doesn't seem to think so.

"It ain't no coincidence sweetheart, it's him.."

"Him?

Ellie recalled curiously, blindly falling down this rabbit hole despite her better notions. She had a vague idea where this could be going,the more famed legend that the village folk use as a scapegoat for their problems.

"You've lived here your whole life girl, you can't tell me you ain't been told the stories.."

The man spoke with years of conviction, it was almost difficult not to fall trap to the storytelling.

"Course I have, the fire festival that attracted the vampires from the north hill, that ambushed the town til' the grand Marshall managed to slay one, not that I'd buy into something like that…"

"Good, you shouldn't.. cus' that ain't what really happened I hear.."

The man shook his head, flicking his cigar before smudging it out on a metal plate. He glanced sidelong around the streets that had began to pick up with carts and ladies on a summer promenade.

"The man of that south castle long there, lost something dear to him that day.. now every year 'round solstice time he returns, picking off every descendant of those who stole it from him, a statement to be sure.."

He gave a gruff chuckle that died within a splutter, his tongue flicking out to wet his dry lips amidst the hot seasoned air.

"But that was centuries ago, surely some absurd animosity such as that would have long faded.."

Ellie hazard a scoff, the notion practically laughable that these killings may take place over a simple stolen item. The man shook his head, drawing her in closer with that same guided tone that likely entertained many a crewmen in his time.

"S' the solstice phase, sweetheart.. that's what gets him. Messes with all sense of reason, m'sure the parades don't help when this whole damn town celebrates what was stolen from 'em. Many say it was the heart of his first love, or some sort of ring.."

Ellie found it difficult to believe, let alone feel sympathy. After all, centuries of bloodshed after a stolen heart or a ring? It didn't make a lot of sense. Still, Ellie thought over the festivals, the torches and music while townsfolk danced through the night by the square. It could be taunting, she supposed. Then again, the notion that there was a vampire, this "him", it was silly. More likely, this was a string of ill timed coincidences that the town elders took a little too seriously. Still, even she couldn't deny the amusement of such stories, and accepts a fresh cigar from the older man while their silverware glitters beneath the sun.

Ellie hadn't meant to stay out so late, lost in conversation and the glitters of the star against warm lanterns by the coast. The old man had left not long ago, but her thoughts and the beautiful sounds of waves crashing had kept her occupied since. Still, as the gruff of servicemen beginning the night patrol she knew it was time to go home. Collecting her remaining trinkets back into her woolen sack, she folds in the board and closes up her stall for the night. With the bag slung over her shoulder, Ellie trudges through the scarcely lit town. The stars still attracted her, glistening against a deep expanse. The night was bustling despite the curfew, tavern's warm and glowing against the pavements and packed with people. She was never one to be scared of the darkness, instead finding a certain comfort in it.

As Ellie passed one of the pubs, she considered stopping for a beer, entranced my some of maidens that fluttered about the exit, smoking cigarettes and charming gents. It was a pleasant notion, one she'd likely oblige some other time. The truth was she had bad feeling in her stomach, a strange sense of unease that tied along to her earlier conversations.

'There's still one more'

It wasn't a pleasant thought to be sure, but more likely it was whatever strange blends that old man put in his cigars.

Trudging past the cooing street women, Ellie finds herself alone through the empty alleys, the path to the workshop so awkward it was a wonder anyone arrived these days. The hair at her neck tickled as a loud clatter echoed from behind her, stopping her old boots as she hesitated to turn. Peeking her face over her shoulder, her tensed frame eased with a sigh as she noticed one of the Marshall's sons, drunkenly babbling past the clearing with an empty bottle in hand. drunkenly babbling past the clearing with an empty bottle in hand. Ellie puffed out a breath of air that lifted some of the hair strands surrounding her speckled cheeks, continuing in her stride though now with a fluttering heart.

Before she could turn the corner though, a rather repulsive sound hit her ears. It was the man, no doubt that but it sounded as if he was choking on his own spit, an unnerving throaty noise, like he had swallowed his own tongue. With a tense fist Ellie turned, her pace quickening as she hurried down the alleyway, those foolish legends swirling around her typically sensible mind. As she reached the clearing that connected to the next walkway, she almost wished she hadn't.

Among the shadows was a figure shroud in black, face completely obscured beneath a heavy hood aside from the mouth. Long pointed fingers gripped the son's coat tight, and all Ellie could make out from the encounter was glistening white fangs that buried themselves deep into his pudgy neck. Thick hot blood had pooled along that hint of chin, dripping down onto the man's collar and oozing into his dirtied shirt. Barely able to struggle, his choked splutters filled the dead air.

Ellie's sweaty hand clasped across her mouth, her bag of copper clattering to the stone as the dark figure's head shot up, still obscured from any sort of identity. Ellie stood still, entranced in a way she couldn't quite describe. After a split moment, you turned on your heels. Darting through the street and toward the pub, you staggered in. Calling out over the loud music and bustling laughter, your voice came heaved with panic.

"Help! Somebody- the Marshall's son, there's a vampire!"

Ellie cried out, unable to believe the own words that flood from her lips in a heat of sweat and fear. Absolute mayhem broke out, screams and floods of women scattering like mice home along with cowards who followed. Some drunkards followed you back, puffed out chests and an illusion of bravery that ran cold the moment they crossed the corners. She managed to latch onto a pair of servicemen along the way, babbling with trembled hands as they entered the clearing. There was already a flurry people surrounding his body, that lay limp on the ground with wide-struck eyes and a pile of his own sweat and urine. The smells were abhorrent, like boiled pence and whiskey, Ellie quickly averted her gaze to avoid throwing up.

The servicemen pushed through the gathering, more following suit once they'd caught word of the incident. They began to usher people back to their homes while covering up the body with another sack, protocol that must come second nature now. Before the bag was dragged over his face, Ellie got a glimpse of his swollen neck, two dark puncture wounds buried deep that were still oozing droplets of cooling crimson. She felt ill as she like other babbling onlookers were ushered off, warned to return home at once and lock the doors. Ellie scooped up her fallen sack, and all but ran back to the workshop. The shadows of the homes seemed to swallow her now, looming over her head as she ducked indoors. Even after locking every door, nothing could console that tremor in her heart, her gaze darting between the door and the windows as she took a step back.

Her trembling hands unbuttoned her under frock, lowering the fabric with an unsteady breath as she lingered by the candlelight. The image of, or lack there of the killer's face haunted her thoughts, the way it had stared dead into her eyes yet made no move to inflict. Would it return for her? She was a witness after all, it was only a matter of time before the servicemen arrived to question her. Likely by dawn, she figured. Her head burned, better judgment waging war with the undeniability of what she had witnessed. The last one. Ellie wasn't sure if that was a comfort, that the hell spawn she had witnessed this evening was finished, until next summer at least. Whether or not they would make an exception for her, she couldn't say and it haunted her weary heart. Deeper into the night she sat on her small framed bed, candle still lit and body braced for any sudden movement, despite her reasoning that she'd rather be sleeping if someone were to feast on her blood tonight.

𓏲 ๋♱⁴⁴⁴

Ellie's head hung low as she sat on the back of the cart, brown skirt flustering with each bump. She could feel the eyes on her, the blacksmith's daughter who was being escorted to the town hall for questioning on the death of the son. It was nerve wracking, even though she'd had all night to think about what she was going to say before the council. She rubbed her clammy palms against her skirt, knowing that she would a long day ahead.

The town hall was not much, despite the bravado presented by the Marshall at each meeting. It was a small building, akin to the inside of a church with tiered seating and a front alter. The walls were stained an eggish yellow, the odd brown crucifix loitered carelessly along the side. Ellie exhales shallowly through her nose as she is guided down to the alter, where she sits in front of a small group of councilmen. Most notably is the grand Marshall himself, sitting aside with a scarred over left eye and an absent expression. She considered paying respects, but thought better of it and instead waited for instruction.

One of the older chiefs of the council stood, commencing the 'meeting' that felt more like you were on trial. He listed the events recorded by the two servicemen the previous night, catching in anyone who had been unaware of the death. The Marshall's jaw was tight at the mention of his remaining grandson, and Ellie wanted to crawl back down to the floor and into the earth.

"Miss Williams, we understand that you were the one to witness the events our night prior, you are now granted voice to recant to us what you have seen.."

The chief's voice came surprisingly polite despite the gruffness that shrouded his tone. It seemed as though he wasn't trying to intimidate her, something that she very well appreciated in this moment. Ellie dared to raise her jaw, attempting to look more assertive than a meager dog with it's tail between it's legs. She gave the chief a gentle nod, finger's trembling beneath the desk as she ran over what she had seen. In her mind, she'd sooner be sent to the asylum than the council jail. Even hearing the own words from her lips, vampire, fangs, she sounded like a mad woman. And she felt it, too.

"And I am aware the lunacy of my words, but I will swear upon my father's grave that what I witnessed was true, it was horrifying.. like witnessing a creature from hell.."

What Ellie expected were scoffs, faces of disbelief. Yet when she glanced around the court, it was almost worst than that. The younger councilmen sure, they were whispering amongst themselves with smug grins, but the elders? They exchanged a glance, knowing. However, their silent communication is quickly overpowered by the short-tempered juniors of the board, instead accusing Ellie of creating such a fanticious story to cover-up her true intentions. She almost felt a glimmer of irritation in her gut, but she knew her place.

After a moment of bickering amongst themselves, the old Marshall stood, slowly, as though his weathered body was made of crumbling bricks. He raised his hand, silencing each and every member of the council with the sheer intimidation of his presence. Ellie had never truly been near him before, he often kept to himself after enduring such a life of hardship. With a missing left eye and copious amounts of deceased relatives, it was no wonder he acted such so.

"This cannot go on any longer.."

His voice boomed as he slammed his staff down against the tiled floor, causing a twitch in Ellie's shoulder that she hastily disguised. His eyes spoke years, of fighting and cutting through. Each and every one of his sons, grandsons, had been picked off by this evil force. He, not by any mistake, had been left alive and forced to live without family. In a way, the Marshall had hoped after so many years that it would relent, move on. Yet now it seemed that peace would never be met, not without healing a wound of the ages.

"We have stolen something from him that he'll ne'er find amongst his own, it leaves us with no choice but to seek his mercy.."

Ellie felt her blood run cold, the stories had been true, in part it seems. She kept her head low, heart hammering in her chest. It was a relief to some degree, that her name was no longer being thrown around in the discussion but it still gave no clear answer to what was going to happen. The older councilmen exchanged a look, though nobody had quite an idea on how to negotiate with a centuries old vampire. The juniors still refused to believe it, one scoffing with folded arms.

"Sir, how on earth could it be this 'force of nature' that killed him, we have a woman right here that was out past curfew and simply happened to come across the event. Surely it would be wiser to consider she as the wrongdoer."

The others nodded along, and Ellie couldn't deny how weak her stance is within this scenario. She was out past curfew, and by some wonderful luck of hers she had coincidentally stumbled upon the killer. With not a single person to back up her name or claims, Ellie had a feeling that she would not leave this town hall unbound. After some debacle between the council members, the Marshall spoke up again, his voice hardened.

"Those of you who distrust this woman, I cannot fault. And so I offer this, she will be our leverage. At the festival tomorrow night, Miss Williams will be our offering to him, if he chooses to accept then our pact will be sealed. If no'ne shows face, we will know that it is her that is our miscreant."

Ellie's heart dropped faster than her jaw, her life and freedom simply auctioned up just so. She wasn't sure which fate was worse, being sanctioned off to a creature of the night that feasted on human flesh and agony, or being hung for murder if that force never showed. Her head was reeling as two servicemen began to grab her by the arms and lift her from the seat. Tears prickled at her eyes, her body automatically straining against their tight grip.

"Please- don't do this, there must be some other way-.."

Her choked cries were muffled by the clammy room, some of the men avoiding her gaze with some sort of pity. The Marshall's jaw was still set, an unloving decision that she knew no amount of pleading would resolve. His choice had even settled the younger men of the council, a satisfied glint in their eyes that came from an ignorant assumption that they would be proving right by tomorrow eve.

Their grip was tight on her arms as they began to drag her through the backrooms of the main hall, her strained screams slowly began blocked out by the heavy brick surrounds. Ellie managed to just about slip out of their hold, but her trembling calves had gotten her nowhere. Instead she'd been yanked back by the hair, and the last thing that occurred before her vision clouded was a blunt strike to her head.

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index | next chapter . . .

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demie90s · 24 days ago

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No Spark Lost

꒰ 🍒 ꒱ DIANA TAURASI X READER ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

Part 1 MASTERLIST MORE

⭑ pairing: Diana Taurasi x reader (*soccer star!*fem!reader)

⭑ summary: You were the face of soccer. A household name, viral athlete, and walking highlight reel—until your ACL tore mid-game and the season ended. Months into recovery, you show up courtside at a Phoenix Mercury game. Hoodie, jeans, no limp in sight. But when halftime hits and you’re asked to shoot around, you remind the world—and Diana Taurasi—that your fire never left.

⭑ genre: Slow-burn tension, legend-to-legend energy, mutual obsession, competitive flirtation

⭑ warnings: Strong language, injury references, sexual tension, light physical contact, Diana being bold as hell

⭑ word count: ~ 0.8k

You can’t tell people you’re fine when you’re not.

But you can look them dead in the eye, knee wrapped tight in K-tape, and still walk like you didn’t spend the past eight weeks learning how to move without pain. You can pull on a hoodie—slightly oversized, grey, soft like comfort—and jeans that still hug your hips just right, even with the brace underneath. You can show up to the arena with no sunglasses, no entourage, no crutches.

You just can’t hide when you’re the most famous sidelined athlete in the country.

So when I walked into Footprint Center for the Phoenix Mercury vs. Chicago Sky game, heads turned. People murmured. The sideline reporters tried to act chill, but I caught them clocking my walk. Limp? Barely. Stiff? Sure. But broken? Never.

I nod to security, give a lazy wave to a couple young fans in my jersey, and keep moving. Straight to my seat courtside, three down from the Mercury bench. I don’t need attention. I don’t need pity.

But damn if this doesn’t sting.

⸻

Flashback — Two Months Ago

We were up 2-0. 67th minute. I had already clocked an assist and a goal. It was humid as hell. Turf thick. I went for a cut I’ve done a thousand times—defender tight on me, eyes on the ball, whole damn stadium leaning in.

Left plant. Right slice.

Then my foot slipped.

And the second I tried to catch myself, my leg went back—too far—and she landed on me.

Some forward from the opposing team also slipped trying to pivot. Unlucky timing. Maybe karma. Maybe just physics.

The sound?

Not a snap. Not a crack.

Just a shift. A grind.

And I knew.

Didn’t cry. Didn’t yell. Just laid flat, blinking up at the lights while the ref screamed for the med cart.

I remember a teammate sobbing. Our coach shaking his head like he could fix it just by willing it.

But me?

I took the mouthguard out and said, “It’s my ACL.”

Then I laughed. Just once. Bitter. Quick.

Everything changed after that.

⸻

Present Day

Halftime. Phoenix is trailing by 3. Diana’s hit back-to-back threes. Kahleah Copper is cooking. The arena smells like sweat, buttered pretzels, and momentum.

I’m posted on the sideline, hoodie sleeves pushed up, nodding along to the music.

That’s when I hear: “You bored yet?”

I look up. Coach Nate Tibbetts, Mercury’s new head coach, is grinning at me like he’s up to something.

“Little,” I admit. “Bench warmer energy.”

He laughs. “You ever think about hooping again?”

“I’m retired,” I deadpan. “From two sports now.”

He steps closer, crosses his arms. “Wanna run a few shots?”

I blink. “You serious?”

“Just shoot. Keep it light. Let the crowd see what all the hype’s about.”

“Who set this up?”

He shrugs. “Diana maybe. Maybe me. Maybe you look like you could use the ball in your hands again.”

The tunnel opens like an invitation.

I hesitate for one second. One.

Then I roll my shoulders back and head to the court.

⸻

Halftime – Lights Still On

Ball hits my palm like it remembers me.

Crowd notices instantly. Whispers turn into low chants. Cameras shift.

I step behind the arc. K-tape visible just under the denim. My stance ain’t perfect, but the form?

Flawless.

First shot:

Swish.

Second:

Corner pull-up, slight fade—net.

Third:

Quick dribble, step-back, deep three. Crowd gasps.

“Damn,” I hear from behind me.

I turn—slow—and there she is.

Diana Taurasi.

Arms folded. Lip twitching. Hair pulled back, watching me like I’m an equation she used to know but forgot how to solve.

“You recovered, huh?” she asks.

I don’t answer.

She walks up with a ball of her own. Tosses it once. Catches.

“You and me. One-on-one. First to five.”

“You serious?”

“Why not?”

“I’m literally on IR.”

“You’re here.”

I smirk. “You’re lucky I like proving people wrong.”

⸻

Unofficial Halftime Game

She checks it.

I jab once, slow. My knee barks—but I ignore it.

Spin. Pump fake. Pull. Bucket.

She narrows her eyes. “That was cute.”

Her turn. She drives—low, controlled—tries to spin, but I step right in front. Force her wide. She misses. Ball rolls.

I grab it.

Step back.

Three. Wet.

Crowd’s eating it up. Phones out. Twitter about to explode.

“Don’t tell me this hurts,” she says, stepping in close, chest nearly brushing mine. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of it.”

“I’m not,” I whisper.

“Then stop holding back.”

Next play she pushes—just a little. I don’t flinch.

She goes up. Misses again. I grab it.

Final shot. I take my time.

One bounce.

Eyes locked.

She smirks. “Gonna limp your way to glory?”

I shoot.

Swish.

5-0.

She lets out a breath. Grins.

“You ain’t lost shit.”

I toss the ball to the side.

“Nope,” I say, stepping into her space now. “But you’re real interested in checking.”

Diana laughs low. Doesn’t back up.

Just lingers.

“You ever come to practice…”

“You ever stop watching me…”

We leave it there.

The buzzer sounds.

Game on.

And I’m still standing.

#wbb imagine #wbb #wnba #wnba x reader #gxg #wbb x reader #wnba x oc #uconn wbb #wbb x oc #wnba imagine #diana taurasi x reader #wnba fanfic #wbb uconn

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stupittmoran · 1 year ago

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This is a Tesla model Y battery. It takes up all of the space under the passenger compartment of the car. To manufacture it you need:

--12 tons of rock for Lithium (can also be extracted from sea water) -- 5 tons of cobalt minerals (Most cobalt is made as a byproduct of processing copper and nickel ores. It is the most difficult and expensive material to obtain for a battery.) -- 3 tons nickel ore -- 12 tons of copper ore You must move 250 tons of soil to obtain: -- 26.5 pounds of Lithium -- 30 pounds of nickel -- 48.5 pounds of manganese -- 15 pounds of cobalt

To manufacture the battery also requires: -- 441 pounds of aluminum, steel and/or plastic -- 112 pounds of graphite

The Caterpillar 994A is used to move the earth to obtain the minerals needed for this battery. The Caterpillar consumes 264 gallons of diesel in 12 hours.

The bulk of necessary minerals for manufacturing the batteries come from China or Africa. Much of the labor in Africa is done by children. When you buy an electric car, China profits most.

The 2021 Tesla Model Y OEM battery (the cheapest Tesla battery) is currently for sale on the Internet for $4,999 not including shipping or installation. The battery weighs 1,000 pounds (you can imagine the shipping cost). The cost of Tesla batteries are: Model 3 -- $14,000+ (Car MSRP $38,990) Model Y -- $5,000–$5,500 (Car MSRP $47,740) Model S -- $13,000–$20,000 (Car MSRP $74,990) Model X -- $13,000+ (Car MSRP $79,990)

It takes 7 years for an electric car to reach net-zero CO2. The life expectancy of the battery is 10 years (average). Only in the last 3 years do you start to reduce your carbon footprint, but then the batteries must be replaced and you lose all gains made.

And finally, my new friend, Michael, made some excellent points: I forgot to mention the amount of energy required to process the raw materials and the amount of energy used to haul these batteries to the U.S. sometimes back and forth a couple of times.

But by all means, get an electric car. Just don't sell me on how awesome you are for the environment. Or for human rights.

Credit: @Hanna Roth

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inspectori · 4 months ago

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- THE WALK IN -

kuroo x manger f!reader

Admitting that Kuroo was attractive was not something Y/N wanted to confess. She couldn’t bring herself to admit that she had fallen for his piercing copper eyes that seemed to see straight through her every time they locked, or his muscular build that flexed whenever he noticed her walking his way. His looks weren’t the only thing that kept her on edge. His personality was equally magnetic. The way he flirted with her so effortlessly, the random compliments he dropped, his unexpected kind gestures, and even the weird yet oddly interesting science facts he shared—she couldn’t stop thinking about them. And the way he smiled at her, that crooked, teasing grin, every time their eyes met? It made her heart flutter in a way she hated to admit.

Lost in these thoughts, Y/N walked into the gym without paying much attention to where she was going. Without warning, she collided with someone—none other than the person she tried so hard not to think about.

Kuroo caught her by the waist, steadying her before she could hit the ground. You felt a blush creeping up her neck as you looked up to find the raven-haired boy with his signature smirk plastered across his face.

“What’s got you in such a rush, princess?” Kuroo asked, his hand still resting on her waist as he eyed her with amusement.

You blinked, trying to shake off the warmth spreading across your cheeks. “I swear I’ve told you to stop calling me that,” you said, annoyed, but it wasn’t a real complaint. “I need to go practice—starts in three minutes,” you added, letting out a subtle sigh.

“Oh yeah, I forgot about that,” Kuroo admitted, chuckling as he finally let go of her waist.

They both walked into the gym, and Y/N greeted the team before heading toward the table to grab her clipboard. It was filled with notes on upcoming games, new supply orders, and random things that somehow always seemed important at the time.

Practice went by quickly, but it wasn’t because of the drills—it was because Y/N couldn’t stop thinking about Kuroo’s hand on her waist and that smirk of his. It lingered in her mind, making it hard to focus.

Still lost in thought, she suddenly heard her name being called from across the gym.

“Y/NNNN-chan!” Lev shouted, his voice loud and unmissable. Before she could react, he tripped over his own feet and fell flat on his face in front of her.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh as she bent down to help him up. “Do you need something, Lev, or are you just extra hyper today?” she asked, her giggle escaping.

Lev grinned sheepishly as he dusted himself off. “Oh, I just wanted to ask if you could help train me. You’re, like, super good at volleyball, and you’re pretty nice to me and also—” He rambled on, but before he could finish, someone cut him off.

“Sorry, dude, but she’s training with me today,” Kuroo interrupted, his voice smooth and teasing.

Y/N turned to face Kuroo, raising an eyebrow. Lev immediately started apologizing and backing away, but Kuroo just gave him a dismissive wave.

“When did we ever agree to train together today?” you asked, your tone playful yet suspicious.

“Since now,” Kuroo replied, grinning. “And besides, I’ve been waiting to 1v1 you, princess.” He let out a chuckle that sent a strange shiver down your spine.

Y/N smirked, her competitive side kicking in. “Oh, you’re so on.”

A few minutes later, you waved goodbye to the team and were left alone with Kuroo in the gym.

“You ready?” she asked, bending down to tie her shoes.

“Super ready,” Kuroo said with a confident smile, his eyes fixed on her.

The match began, and Y/N started with the ball, serving it over the net. Kuroo bumped it back easily, and Y/N spiked the ball with all her strength, watching as it landed on his side. The game continued for about 7 minutes, with both of them giving it their all. Y/N hit the ball with a force that could probably start an earthquake. As she watched it spiral through the air, she realized too late that it was heading straight for Kuroo’s face.

Before he could react, the ball slammed into his face with a sharp crack. He staggered back, falling to the ground with a grunt.

Y/N immediately rushed over to him, panic setting in. She knelt beside him, hovering anxiously. “OMG, ARE YOU OK?” she exclaimed, her voice laced with worry.

Kuroo groaned, still covering his face with both hands. “I think so,” he muttered, clearly dazed.

“Is there anything you need? Water? A wet towel?” you stammered, completely flustered as you tried to help.

“Yeah, there’s one thing I need,” Kuroo said, lowering his hands and flashing a mischievous grin.

You raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”

“A kiss,” Kuroo replied, his voice dripping with playful confidence.

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?” Your voice came out higher than she expected, almost squeaky.

“Yeah, a kiss,” he repeated, his yellow eyes twinkling with amusement.

Annoyance flared in your chest. “Are you serious?” you said, crossing her arms, though you wasn’t sure if you should be mad or embarrassed.

Kuroo just smirked, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on her. “What? You’ve kissed me once before.” He leaned up slightly, eyes never leaving yours.

Y/N rolled her eyes dramatically. “We were eight.”

But then, something shifted. Maybe it was the look in his eyes, that unshakable confidence. Maybe it was the tension in the air. Whatever it was, before you could stop yourself , you muttered under your breath, “Fuck it.”

Without thinking twice, you leaned down, closing the space between them. Your lips met his in a soft kiss at first—hesitant, unsure—but then, as you felt him respond, the kiss deepened, catching them both by surprise. For a moment, everything around them faded away. The gym, the game, everything. It was just the two of you.

But suddenly, the gym doors creaked open. You jerked your head up to see none other than Lev, frozen in shock, standing in the doorway.

His volleyball manager and volleyball coach were on the gym floor, tangled up on top of each other. One of Kuroo’s hands was wrapped around your waist, while the other was gently placed on her cheek. Your hands were cupping Kuroo’s face. The one thing all three of them shared in that moment was pure horror on their faces.

“Lev, it’s not what it looks like!” you blurted, your face instantly flushing crimson.

Lev, still stunned, muttered, “I just need my water bottle...” He slowly shuffled over to the table, barely acknowledging what he'd just witnessed.

“WAIT, LEV! Don’t tell anyone about this, and I’ll... I’ll train you for a whole week. Deal?” you stammered, panicking and desperately trying to avoid a disaster.

Lev’s eyes lit up. “Ooo, okay, deal!” he exclaimed, grabbing his bottle and quickly heading for the door.

As the door clicked shut behind him, you and Kuroo exchanged a look.

“We’re so DEAD,” you said, standing up and looking at Kuroo, wide-eyed.

Kuroo chuckled, leaning back casually. “Yep. We are SO dead.”

(i wrote this so long ago like years ago so i might redo it 😃)

#haikyuu headcanons #kuroo x reader #haikyuu #kuroo tetsurou #haikyu x reader #haikyū!!#hq x reader #hq #kuroo tetsuro x reader #haikyuu kuroo #kuroo tetsuro x you #kuroo x you #hq kuroo #kuroo testuro #kuroo tetsuro fluff

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chuubian · 10 months ago

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Midnight pearl

Tags Pirate Chuuya x gn mermaid reader, mermaid courting ritual, Chuuya is perpetually confused, hunting, trafficking (just talking about it not actually doing it), dehumanizing language, reader is kinda feminized? like there's a bunch of pearls and traditionally feminine things they wear and own, the flags are happy and alive

Summary While swimming peacefully in the ocean, you're suddenly caught in a big net. Pulled out of your reverie, you're hauled onto a big ship and stuffed into a tank that can barely fit you. The captain of this uncivilized group of pirates is Chuuya. He had first planned to sell you, but over time his heart softened until one day he realizes he's fallen for you.

A/N this is the last part of this mini series. if im ever inspired to add onto it i might but for the most part this is where the plot ends :)

Part 1 Part 2

An overwhelming warmth was surrounding your body. It was like being stuck in quicksand. Quicksand that was super cozy and… hairy..? When your eyes finally snapped open you were met with a mountain of copper-toned hair, covering Chuuya's face who is, of course, snoring loudly. His head is resting on your chest, leaning into the comforting heat radiating from your skin. Your heart jumps into your throat. Breathing is a laboured effort- all the air has been stolen from your lungs at the sight of him.

Shifting, you look around the room, trying to free his arms from around your waist but his grip is too strong, so you resign to your fate. The room is luxurious, filled with intricate woodwork, white silk drapes around the windows, and expensive jewelry hung up on display. To others, the bed would probably be the most eye catching thing in the room- with its beautiful burgundy canopy and fluffy, no doubt expensive, snow white covers. It screams ‘I'm rich!’ But the thing that drew your eyes was not the extravagant decorations. It was Chuuya.

It's like he can feel your eyes on him, because when your eyes glance over him- taking in his soft pink lips, the slight flush high on his cheekbones, the little bit of drool dripping down his chin- he wakes up. His eyes meet yours. They're such a deep blue. They remind you of the sea. Of the dark abyss that used to be your home. It's comforting in a way. He definitely wasn't the best person, but he held you so sweetly just a few hours ago. Maybe at the bottom of his heart he was a good person. He just did what he had to, to survive.

“Hey.”

If you couldn't tell Chuuya had just woken up from the creases on his face and his disheveled appearance, his low raspy voice would give it away. Still half-asleep, he pulls you closer, unconsciously leaning into the warmth, chest pressed against yours. Suddenly, a realization comes over him, face reddening, he scoots away, attempting to separate the two of you despite the thin sheen of sweat gluing your skin together. Eventually, he manages to free himself, settling on the other side of the bed.

“Sorry… I was just cold.”

“Really? You look sweaty.”

He scowls, turning even more red.

“No I don't!”

He mumbles to himself for a few seconds, chewing on his nails, eyebrows furrowed deep in thought. It made you smile to see him so thrown off balance, especially when he's usually in control of every situation.

"Whatever, It's almost dinner time we need to go eat."

Chuuya threw the covers off himself and climbed off the bed. He walked over to your side of the bed, floors creaking painfully.

"Do you want your tank or are you okay sitting with us?"

The question made you stop. Staying in the container would mean being in water, but it would also mean being isolated. Again. you had grown used to being around Chuuya. It was a bit fast- yet something drew you to him. He was the kind of person that's utterly captivating. Where one meeting with him, by chance, would keep you thinking about him ten years later. On the other hand, you've been on solid land for almost the entire day. You were starting to miss the moisture on your skin and the full feeling in your lungs from familiar ocean water.

Chuuya’s eyebrows furrow, noticing how serious you've gotten. He puts a hand on your shoulder, snapping you out of your thoughts.

"Hey, you okay?"

Nodding, you glance up into his blue eyes. it's easy to make your decision when he looks at you like that.

"I'll eat with you."

His lips quirk up into a pleased grin.

"Good, I was hoping you'd say that."

He reaches down to rip the toasty covers off you, exposing you to the horrible freezing environment. Whining, you lean into his touch. It's a welcome respite from the world outside.

"It's so cold."

He chuckles, low and deep. The vibrations reverberate through your chest, making your heart beat faster.

“I know, I know. Let's go.”

His strong arms slip under your back and tail, picking you up bridal style. It's a wonder how a man so short and small is so well built. The room was near the top deck of the boat, making it much easier to follow the hallways that had confused you so much a few hours prior. The wooden floors and walls here have less mold growing on them than the floors lower down. It's been cleaned thoroughly but they still couldn't seem to get all the fungus off. It was practically a permanent fixture of the ship. Destined to be there forever.

Once outside, you watch the sun start to hide, tucking itself under the horizon. It paints the sky with gorgeous yellows and purples, staining everything in its path with a golden filter. The sun is no longer searing your skin, instead it's moderate. More reserved than it would be at noon. The bright red ball of fire is starting to give way to the moon, concealing itself, letting another celestial body have its time to shine. Unselfishly.

Chuuya bounces as he walks with you to the top floor, setting you down next to him at the table. His arm is still wrapped around your waist, pulling you close until your tail and his thigh are pressed together. When you turn to look at him, you see he's already got his gaze focused on you. Chuuyas arm tightens around you slightly, his other hand coming up to play with the collar of his linen shirt nervously. He glances back down to the arm wrapped around you.

“I-its so you don't fall…”

You nod, accepting his answer and turning back to the table. The crew starts pouring in, fighting over seating and making comments about you. The same woman that smells nice from a few hours ago sits on the other side of you. She doesn't seem to like it when her kimono brushes up against your skin, scooting away.

“You're going to make my clothes smell like fish.”

Before you can speak up, Chuuya cuts in.

“Be nice.”

She huffs, head held up high, not even having the decency to look at you instead of the space across from her at the table.

“I'm just saying. I don't want my clothes dirtied.”

“Then why did you sit here?”

You finally speak up. She turns to look at you, eyes narrowed in discontent.

“None of your business. You should learn to keep your mouth shut, you have no use here other than to be sold.”

Chuuya chips in.

“Ane- san, there's no need for so much hostility. They're here now and they'll be here for a while. And Aren't you the one always telling me not to start fights for no reason?”

She glances over at him, lips pursing together.

“You've gotten too soft, Chuuya.”

After that, they both stay silent. The awkwardness is heavy in the air. Looming over you and sinking into your bones, making your muscles feel restless. Time moves slowly, oozing like sluggish drops of foul slime. Sticking to everything and everyone in the vicinity, ruining the festive atmosphere that had once filled the dining area- staining it with a somber, dreadful aura.

When the food comes, people start muttering softly among themselves, not wanting to face Chuuya or the woman's wrath. The meal itself didn't seem bad, their plates were full of dried fruits, chicken, cheese and bread that was well-seasoned. Probably to mask the flavor and smell of decomposing meat. For you, the only thing served was more clams, mussels, oysters, and seaweed. Thankfully they looked fresh unlike most of the crew's food. As you started eating- breaking open the shells, and scraping out the soft inside- you felt something hard. It was round and smooth, like a rock. Without thinking, you spit it out onto your hand and are met with a precious little white pearl. The people all around fall into silence once again, staring and the jewel in the palm of your hand.

“WHAT?!?”

Albatross’s shout pierces the quietude resonating in the air, breaking people out of their stupor. The unruly group of pirates swarm towards you, blocking all exits and your line of sight. You hold the pearl closer to yourself, hand clenched around it tightly, scowling.

“Alright! Alright everyone! Settle down! They found it, it's theirs to decide what to do with it!”

The air you had been unconsciously trapping in your lungs was finally let out, tension leaving your body as the crowd cleared out. The crew was still talking excitedly, expecting you to give them the jewel or at least sell it for money. Albatross was eagerly trying to convince you to hand it to him.

“I just wanna look, I swear! I'll give it back! I promise!”

Chuuya sighs, exasperated at his friend's weak attempts to trick you.

“They're not stupid… give up.”

“Aww come on Chuuya! You can't seriously be on its side!”

“Their.”

The blonde man's face sours- somehow more than when he ate the nearly rotten meal a few seconds ago.

“Huh?”

“Their. They're not an object. Speak properly next time.”

Albatross crosses his arms, eyes narrowed.

“I thought it didn't matter, weren't we gonna get rid of them anyways?”

He spits it out, stressing it like there's something inherently wrong or dirty about the word. He doesn't even treat his moldy meat this way. somehow treating you like a human being was one of the most vile, disgusting things he could do.

“It doesn't matter. I'm your boss aren't i? do what i say or else.”

At Chuuya’s biting words, Albatross backs off, mumbling under his breath, eating quietly for the rest of the meal. His head is hanging low, like a humiliated dog. It's uncharacteristic of him, he's usually so rowdy and loud. Chuuya's words seemed to be taken as gospel in this place. It was odd how much power he held over everyone.

The big pile of clams and kelp on your plate slowly disappear, leaving behind empty shells and a small pile of little multi-colored pearls. It's a miracle you found so many. Not all of them are perfectly round. Some have little blemishes and spots- or pieces that stick out, almost like a little tail. Despite not being flawless little gems, they glow just as brightly as the rest of them. Catching the attention of anyone who passes by- tempting them to swipe it off your plate and hold them hostage, away from you, for themselves.

After you've finished your food, you hold the little pearls in your palm, swirling them around and admiring the sparkle they give off. It's hypnotizing- the way they bounce off one another and clink together, glittering under the soft light. When you hold one up, next to the moon, you could almost confuse them for each other. Both creamy and comforting, reflecting the light off something much bigger than itself, but still enchanting in their own way.

"You really like them huh?'

Nodding, you look over at Chuuya, he's smiling down at you, eyes filled with warmth. The passion in his gaze wraps around you like a blanket- Protecting you from the harsh environment outside of your little bond. You lean closer, for some reason an overwhelming urge comes over you to feel his skin on yours. It's so smooth and well taken care of. Nothing like yours, which still isn't used to being in fresh air instead of salty sea water. His breath catches in his throat, grip tightening around your hips.

"You can have them."

You hold out the small handful of pearls for him. He blinks, shocked.

"Why? They’re precious, you should keep them."

Shrugging you pry his arm off from around you, forcing him to take the jewels. When his hand brushes against your lightly a tingling sensation travels from the tips of your fingers to your heart, causing it to speed up, and butterflies to form in your stomach. Chuuya seems to feel it too, gasping softly, hand clenching around the tiny pile of gemstones.

"Well...if you want me to. I'll take good care of them for you."

Chuuya admires the pearls in his hand for a few seconds.

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?"

Albatross shouts from across the table, furious that he didn't get his 'fair share.'

"Why not me!?"

He starts fake sobbing, rolling around on the floor, and pulling on his hair dramatically. Groaning, Chuuya rolls his eyes.

"Did you seriously think they would ever give you these?"

"No but... I wanted them."

Albatross sticks his bottom lip out, pouting and trying to seem as cute as possible. It's fooling no one.

"Sorry for him boss, he's just being a little... theatrical."

The handsome man with blonde hair and blue eyes who was sitting next to Albatross speaks up. Chuuya grunts quietly, agitated.

"That's one way of putting it."

The man grabbed Albatross’ meager braid, dragging him away as he continues writhing around. He keeps a gentle smile on his face despite Albatross hurling insults at him and shouting.

"Lippmann! This is humiliating! Let me go! You can't do this to me!"

You can hear the man's voice get fainter and fainter as he's forced to rub against the floor- hauled across the decaying wood, getting small splinters along the way to the crew's quarters.

Chuuya relaxes once he's gone, tension leaving his shoulders, unfazed by what just happened. He quickly moves on, holding up one of the pink pearls with a little section that sticks out like a tail.

"This one looks like you."

You grin, his comment makes a weird sensation pool in your stomach. Settling heavy in your gut and spreading all around the forgotten recesses of your mind. Taking over your body completely.

"Does it?"

He nods.

"Yeah, it even has a little tail, see?"

You chuckle, looking down at the rest of the pile.

"And this one is you."

You hold up a little black pearl with a small extrusion coming out of the top.

"It looks like your hat."

He chuckles, putting the jewels in a compact pouch.

"I'll cherish these forever."

He glances up at the sky, breathing in deeply. You do the same. Strangely, you don't feel as suffocated by dry air anymore. You've become used to the bare feeling on your skin and the empty sensation in your lungs. The sea was cold and lonely, unlike being on land here with Chuuya. A peaceful quietness settles over the two of you, steadily tugging at you, pulling you closer. He breaks the silence.

"Uhm... can we talk in private?"

He looks around the dining table. People are still hanging around, talking and drinking, being tumultuous and causing chaos all around them.

"Yeah we probably should."

Chuuya stands up, strong arms picking you up once again.

"I'm sorry you have to keep carrying me around."

He shakes his head, finding it silly.

"I don't mind, I'm strong. Plus it'd be stupid if I was upset with you for trapping you here."

He walks with you in his arms toward the edge of the ship, seating you down on the chair he had left here a few hours ago when he was letting you look over the sea. Sitting down across from you, he crosses his legs. You find yourself missing the sensation of his skin against yours. It's far too frigid without him near you.

"What did you want to talk to me about?"

He looks up at you, expression serious.

"I wanted to let you go."

You feel your heart jump into your throat, blood running cold.

"... What..?"

This is what you had been waiting for, a chance to leave this place behind. To go back home. The man who had ripped you away from your habitat was offering you the chance to do the thing you'd been longing for. But somehow you found yourself dreading the idea. Would the water hug you as tightly as Chuuya did? Would the environment be as welcoming? You didn't have friends or family anymore. There was no reason to go back to the freezing sea. Chuuya had treated you kindly, defending and sympathizing with you. He wasn't even as bad of a person as he seemed at first. His willingness to let you leave proved that.

"You can go back home."

You tense up, looking out at the ocean. It's glittering beautifully. The water at night is such a familiar sight, it's hard to not miss it. The waves crash against the side of the rickety old boat, soothing your ringing ears. An ache in your heart longs to be back there, in a place you can move freely, but the dry air feels much more freeing than the pressure of water all around you. Especially when you get to be around someone.

“I… don't want to.”

His eyebrows furrow, baffled.

“Huh??? Why not?”

In spite of his questioning, a seed of hope is planted in his heart. blossoming under your attention. Blooming at the warmth and care radiating off you. He would do anything to keep you here, but at this point, keeping you hostage is too far. He doesn't want to trap you, he wants you to be happy.

“I just dont… I have no one to go back to and… I like being here.”

“On land?”

“Yeah, it's not so bad here.”

He pauses, reading your expression. He cant find any signs of lying, only a sincere look on your face.

“Well… if you want to you could stay in my room.”

“In the bed?”

He raises an eyebrow, lips quirking up smugly.

“You want to stay in my bed?”

Your cheeks turn hot. Humiliated at the implication that you enjoy being in the same bed in that way. Even if it was a little bit true.

“It's cozy!”

“Uh-huh. Sure.”

He looks back out over the ledge.

“Are you positive you don't want to go back?”

“I'm completely sure.”

He smiles softly, pleased with your answer.

“Let's go then.”

Chuuya gets up, gathering you in his arms once again and leading you back down to his chambers. There's a fuzzy feeling developing in your brain at the feeling of his muscles against you. He's so firm in all the right places. His footsteps are heavy, banging against the weakened wooden planks as he makes his way through the hallways.

The door to his room creaks open, swinging onto the wall beside it. The view of his quarters once again steals your breath away. It's pure luxury like you'd never seen. Chuuya sets you down on the edge of his bed before walking towards one of his cabinets, taking a few tools out and sitting beside you.

“What's that for?”

“I'm making something.”

He takes out the bag he had put the pearls you gifted him in, methodically drilling small holes in each one. There weren't many pearls to begin with but he took his time with each one, making sure it was perfect. Once that was done, he started weaving silk cord between each one, fingers deftly creating knots between each one to ensure that they stay safe. The process takes a long time but watching him work with the concentrated glower on his face makes everything more enjoyable. Neither of you speak during the process, enjoying the comfortable silence that descends over the room- only the sound of pearls clinking together and the drill permeate the air.

Once he's done, he holds up the necklace. It's full of disfigured pearls. The pattern is inconsistent with pink, white, and black pearls littered throughout. It's chaotic. But Chuuya made it with his own hands. From the gift you gave him. The imperfections only make it more eye-catching. Why would you ever want a boring white pearl chain when Chuuya created this?

“I put ours together, look.”

He holds up the bottom of the necklace so you can see easier. At the center, the one you said looked like his hat, is next to the one he said looked like your tail. Your eyes are stinging, gasping for air, you reach over to grab the necklace from his hands.

“Are you okay?”

He looks so concerned- eyebrows pinched together, his hand comes to rest on your shoulder reassuringly.

“Yes… I love it.”

You try to catch your breath but it's been punched out of your lungs painfully. Your chest was struggling to expand, not used to the great deal of emotions you had been put through recently. Has Chuuya ever been so sentimental? It's such a sickeningly sweet moment that you can feel your stomach churning- struggling to process everything that's happened.

“Here, let me put it on for you.”

He gently takes it from your hands. As he clasps on the string of pearls, his calloused fingers brush against the back of your neck, sending a jolt of electricity down your back. Your heart is racing once again, adrenaline pumping through your veins until Chuuya starts scooching away.

“It looks lovely on you.”

Your cheeks burn under his attention. Chuuya is like the sun as a person- bright and warm, he helps those around him to grow and become better people. But he can also scorch everything in his path, annihilating everything that gets in his way. Around you, he tends to be more nurturing, you bring out a side in him that's softer. You wouldn't judge him for being tenderhearted. Instead, you indulge him. Letting him express his emotions freely.

“Thank you.”

He doesn't bother changing out of his clothing for the night. Deciding that he's too tired, he puts the tools he used away in his cabinet, before crawling back into the lavish sheets. He helps you adjust your position to a more comfortable one where his arms are wrapped around you. He tucks his head over your shoulder, breath fanning over your skin. Your nerves were alight, tremors traveling throughout your body. How was Chuuya so calm under these situations?

As the hours passed by, Chuuya fell asleep but you were still wide awake, thinking of what to do for him next. While your mind is wandering, the rocking of the ship against the splashing sea and sound of waves crashing is enough to lull you into a peaceful slumber. Slowly, the sounds and sensations take over your mind, surrounding it in a snug blanket of serene fuzziness.

When your eyes open again, bright sunlight is pouring into the room. Chuuya is still pressed against you. His hair is tickling your face, you try to move around but it only makes him hold on tighter. You put a hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake.

“Chuuya.”

He groans, rolling around, his mind is refusing to let him awaken. You only shake harder.

“Chuuya! Wake up, there's a fire on the ship!”

This makes his eyes spring open, immediately getting up in a panic.

“WHERE!”

“Nowhere.”

You snicker at him, amused at his immediate response to fake danger. He doesn't seem to find it as funny.

“You really shouldn't joke about that, you know.”

His hands are on his hips. You're still smiling at him, it was too fun to mess with him. He made it too easy.

“Fine, fine, I'll never joke about that again.”

You're lying.

“Can you help me up to the deck? I wanted to do something.”

He sighs, picking you up easily and carrying you through the hallways. They aren't as confusing as before, the layout of the boat was becoming more and more familiar as a concept- no longer the mysterious phenomenon that it used to be. The hot sun hits your eyes and skin as you reach the top floor, rays beaming down in brutal beacons, burning everything in its way. Chuuya sets you down on the ledge.

“Why did you want to come here?”

“I wanted to go back in the ocean, but only for a little bit, i just need to do something okay?”

Chuuya nods.

“I'll anchor down then.”

He turns to the rest of his crew that's bustling around, instructing them on what to do. Before he can get back to you, you've already dived back in. The water is freezing, seizing your muscles and shocking your system. How could this possibly be the way you had lived before? All the colorful corals underwater were washed out by a blue hue. It was so empty. Almost no life for miles. Nothing compared to the rambunctious crowd on the ship. The quiet stillness was unsettling now. It used to ease your nerves, relax you, but now it's not enough. It's eerie.

You ignore the dreadful feeling in your stomach, swimming around- you gather various things like sea pickles, red shells, pretty pieces of seaweed, an urchin, and some sea stars for good measure. Your tail was finally moving again, it was starting to get restless after spending so much time inactive. When you come back up to the surface of the water, you look up at the deck. Chuuya is watching you. Your heart jumps into your throat, making it hard to breathe. Or is it just the fresh air again?

The crowd of pirates helps you get back up to the ship, much more gently than last time, helping you sit on a chair again. When Chuuya sees what you have, he raises an eyebrow.

“This is the important thing you needed help with?”

“Yes.”

You hold up the red shell to his hair.

“See? this matches. It's for you.”

You hand it to him, going through a similar process of explaining each item and why it fits him well before handing it to him.

“So… why are you giving me these?”

You tilt your head, staring at him incredulously.

“For our wedding.”

Everyone surrounding you two bursts into chaos, filling the air with boisterous chatter and gossip. Chuuya's cheeks redden, he tries hiding his face with his hand but it does nothing to conceal the embarrassment.

“WHAT?!?”

“Our wedding. I gave you the gifts I needed to, we have to have our wedding soon.”

Chuuya is sputtering in shock. Albatross in the background is crying real tears. The woman in the silk kimono whose name you never learned is stunned.

“That doesn't mean we're married!”

“Yes it does. We even slept together last night.”

Everyone's eyes widened, silence falling over the room. It's like the calm before the storm.

“CHUUYA?!?”

Someone shouts out to him before everyone joins in, gossiping and making jokes loudly. They start crowding closer, surrounding the both of you.

“WAIT! WAIT! GUYS IT'S NOT WHAT YOU THINK!”

It's futile, Chuuya knows it is, but he tries to defend himself. Unfortunately, no one believes him at all. Albatross instead starts chewing his hair, berating him for being a ‘nasty, nasty little man.’ Chuuya tries to push him off but everyone else starts mocking him too, it's a never ending cycle. one person backs off, here comes another. Once everyone finally calmed down, Chuuya feels like he can breathe again, turning to face you.

“Look… just because your kind does it that way, doesn't mean that we do too.”

“But I like you… I thought you liked me too…”

Chuuya flushes, redness spreading down to his neck. He looks around the ship nervously.

“Can you guys stop staring!?! Get back to work!”

Everyone scatters, going off and pretending that they aren't watching intently.

“I-i do like you but… we can't get married just yet, it's too soon.”

Your nose scrunches, face twisting.

“Fine, we don't have to. But I really meant it. I've never felt like this about anyone before.”

“I know, me too. But we have to take it slower… Okay?”

You nod, discontented that you can't get married just yet.

“Okay.”

He wraps his arms around your waist, sitting you down on his lap. You can feel the tension settling between you. Your muscles are heavy, weighed down by the pressure filling the air. For a moment, everything went completely still and quiet. The sensation in the pit of your tummy only got worse, like bees were trying to break out through the stomach lining and skin. Chuuya's eyes were on your the whole time, only glancing down for a second to your lips before looking back up again. Before you notice it, you've started leaning closer- breath brushing across his face, lips barely inches apart.

He leans in the rest of the way, catching your lips in a passionate kiss. Chuuya’s hand comes up, cradling your jaw, pulling you impossibly closer. His tongue is hot against yours, brushing against your bottom lip, deepening the kiss. Your fingers curl in the fabric of his shirt, holding on for dear life. During these few seconds, the outside world seems to melt away, becoming a forgotten past. When you pull away, you're both panting. You stay close by, ready to dive back in before he holds you back with a hand on the shoulder.

"Are you sure about this? You don't have to stay forever."

"I'm sure."

He appears to be thinking, contemplating if he really believes your words.

"What about when I retire and can't be on the ship anymore? When it breaks down, and I have to live on land. Permanently."

"Then you better get me a bigger tank."

#bsd chuuya #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #chuuya fanfic #chuuya x reader #mermaid au #pirate au #fanfic #bungou stray dogs fanfic #pirate chuuya

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vampiriiiia · 1 year ago

Text

Waiting. Seething. Blooming

(Ch.2)

Summary: An orphaned bastard of House Tyrell is welcomed in Kings Landing as Princess Healanas lady in waiting. In her attempts to navigate the ways of court and gain the favour of powerful men she manages to involve herself with the web of the royal family’s affairs.

word count: 3.8k

Since the day where you shared with the princess your knowledge of flowers,

and in extension, insects and such, your walks in the garden became a daily occurrence. Everyday, a bit before midday, and during the evenings as well, you and Princess Helaena would stroll around the gardens, deep in conversation. On some days, such as this, hers and Prince Aegon’s children, Prince Jaegerys and sweet Princess Jaehera would come with you. On such evenings, you sit in a marble bench that was adorned with ivys.

In front of you lied a moss covered path, amidst the enchanting whispers of the Keeps garden, where the gnarled limbs of towering oaks twist and turn like vigilant sentinels. This path, gently beckons you towards the heart of the grove. Here, in this secluded haven, stands a statue carved in alabaster. For a moment, it seemed to glow with a light all its own. The statue is poised gracefully upon a pedestal entwined with ivy. Surrounding this spectral guardian are blooms of purple and pink hydrangeas, their petals nodding in the breeze like petals like the paintings for a book your mother had showed you, a time long ago. Shadows of children dance under the enchanting boughs, where light seldom intrudes, adding to the mystique of this sanctuary. It is a place where the divide between past and present blurs, and where the whispers of history seem louder than the songs of birds around you and your unusually quiet company.

You carefully watched the children for a while, before turning your attention to the Princess, who despite her earlier excitement to visit the gardens, now stood silent and stoic, like the elegant statue in front of you, examining a dark creature perched upon her hand. Its eight legs, sharp and angled like blades, moved with a dreadful grace. Its body, a shadowy armour of intricate patterns. It’s eyes almost looked a bit sinister as they seemed to pierce through the very essence of your facade, as though the spider itself held dominion over fear and shadows. You had no problem with insects and such, even holding some of them when the Princesses hands had been too full, but you dreaded spiders. You dreaded them more than anything. As you watched her handle the creature with grace, a sense of numbing terror spread across your chest, and despite being seated, you felt your legs crumble also. It wasn’t the spiders appearance that frightened you per se, more the fact that they could be anywhere, and you wouldn’t know. They seemed to know every whisper that had been whispered in the Keep, maybe even the realm, maybe even Highgarden. Most likely Highgarden. They knew too many things, they could weave the most appropriate net for you, trapping you for as long as they pleased, and you wouldn't even see it. Thankfully, your size did not allow that but unfortunately, you were not as big as you’d like, for you were far smaller than the nets life sized spiders created.

Eventually you turned your attention back to the children running around each other, seemingly playing a game of tag. You sat there, quietly with the Princess for a while, till a sudden appearance had the both of you jolting.

Queen Alicent Hightower has always been a politely imposing figure. She had lengthy copper curls and big brown eyes that seemed to be aware of your every move. She had been wearing an emerald green dress, perched with the symbol of the seven on her waist, creating a belt like necklace around her lower waist. Other than the softness of the fabric with a few golden details, she had been dressed simply for the day, as the Princess had told you, no court meeting for the day was to be held. She inspected you closely, carefully, the way you sat and how straight your back was, where you put your hands, and when she was seemingly satisfied, she turned her attention to her daughter. Her eyes softened as she said “ Helaena, would you happen to know where your grandsire would be?” “No mother, I do not. (Y/N) and I have been here for some time, he has not appeared around these parts of the garden”. The Princess had gained a habit of referring to you by your first name as of late, she never corrected herself, but you never took the liberty of using her first name as well.

The Queen looked perplexed at that, “He had told me he’d be with you today.” “Well, he is not”. She sighted, letting out a long batted breath, obviously not very pleased with the outcome of her search. She seemed to be searching for him quite often these days, surely the castle couldn’t be so big. Besides, Lord Otto Hightower was of old age, he couldn’t be running around the castle, avoiding his daughter of all people. That thought seemed amusing, but it was certainly untrue, since most days Queen Alicent was the one doing the running. She rigidly sat down, in the middle of you and Helaena on the bench, “I suppose I’ll wait here then. Your grandsire is most likely to appear at these parts of the garden”. That was not true, this wing of the garden has always been quiet, so quiet you could hear the rose petals flowing under the evening breeze. You highly doubted the Hand had been one for romantic adventures through quiet parts of the castle such as this.

Queen Alicents presence stiffened the atmosphere. While before her arrival there was a silent air of understanding surrounding you and Princess Helaena, now it was filled with awkward small conversation about court matters such as the starvation of smallfolk in the southern part of Kings Landing. That was the one thing that stuck to you the most “And what is the next move to solve that matter? Have you reached a conclusion yet?” you surprised yourself by speaking but the Queen’s response is what truly caught you off guard “It’s truly unfortunate but we have not yet began to attend to that matter, in the city of Braavos, the Iron Bank, not half a year ago had lended a large amount of money to the throne to built that large well down in Rivers Row and unfortunately it has not been finished and they’re demanding that number of money back” did a well really take so much money to be built? why couldn’t they use the saving of the throne itself? “We of course will tend as soon as we can to the starving smallfolk but there’s other matters to be tended to first. You see Lady Flower, the throne is always busy and filled with responsibilities” the Queen added hastily, sensing your scepticism about her response, diverting the conversation to other matters the throne had to quickly attend to. You tried your best to keep your back straight, never slouching and your hands never leaving your lap.

——

“They want to make my brother king” the Princess abruptly broke the silence after arriving to her chambers. The uncomfortable conversation with Queen Alicent had thankfully ended as it began to darken outside. Now at the comfort of her quarters, soundly rocking Jaeherys crib while you did the same for Jaehera, her commnet caught you by suprise. “Why would you think that Helaena?” you knew exactly why. Since the moment you arrived in the castle you quickly understood what opinions Queen Alicents side of the family held for Princess Rhaenyra. Prince Aegon made jokes about the legitimacy of her sons, The hand liked to act like she did not exist but was in fact a distant family member at best, and not the actual heir to the throne. Princess Helaena never spoke of her, but also never participated in debates about her with the rest of her family. You were not sure if the latter one was a direct request from the Queen. You only heard Prince Aemond speak of her once, and the causality which he spoke so hatefully about her had you momentarily freeze in your place.

On the other hand, you heard Queen Alicent speak so often about her step-daughter that you were not sure if it sounded more like envy or like something else. Or both.

Queen Alicent spoke of Rhaenyra in public with a veneer of civility and disdain. She would often criticize the Princesses rebellions and lack of propriety. The Queen made a show of disapproving of her behaviour, playing up the role of a concerned stepmother trying to rein in a wayward daughter.

"She is willful and defiant," Alicent would say, her voice laced with irritation. "Ignoring her duties and causing trouble at every turn. It’s a shame, really. She could be so much more if she would just learn to act like a proper princess." the Queen would continue in a frenzy. It took you by suprise how often you’d catch her in such position, speaking in such way, to Ser Criston Cole, of all people. Although, he never once opened his mouth to agree or disagree with her, displaying a serious and nonchalant stance to what the Queen was saying. It was a smart move on his part, but at the same time it made it look like it happened more often than not.

Queen Alicent reminded you of how you spoke of the gods when you were younger, innocent and more hopeful. When your mother was still alive, albeit sick, and you still belivied. You’d speak in an irritated manner about them, when despite your prayers, they didn’t bend to your will. You’d never stop believing and praying though, always secretly hoping that they’d see your devotion and finally grand you one wish. In your case, you asked for your mothers health. You did not know, not truly, what Queen Alicent wanted from Princess Rhaenyra. You weren’t sure if she quite knew herself.

Your inner turmoil was put at pause when Princess Jaehera whined a little, then went back to her sleep. You looked at the Princess, who had now placed her son in his crib, rocking him gently, with a faraway look in her lavender blue eyes. Princess Helena’s wasn’t much older than you, yet she had her twins at the same age you lost your mother. You knew that at that age, you weren’t mentally or physically prepared to host another person inside you, much less twins. The Princess helped feed them, bath them, made sure they went to their high Valyrian lessons, rocked them to sleep every night and was always with them, day and night, overlooking their other activities with your help. But as you watched her tend to them, you weren’t really sure if she quite realised they were hers. You once heard some maids comment about the Princesses standoffishness, which increased after she got married to her brother and had children.

You reached the conclusion that despite those day dreams always being a part of the Princess, their increase is both a form of escapism. Deep down, she knew that the children were hers. But the weight of motherhood, its duties, it must be very overwhelming. In her mind, they were not her children, they were her siblings. It must be more comfortable pretending she was their older sister, which wasn’t a stretch considering how young the queen was when she had Prince Aegon. Retreating into her mind was easier than truly grasping the fact that she birthed those children when she was one herself.

The Princess didn’t reply to your question, she tucked her son in, as you did for her daughter, and asked for your help with undoing her hair and gown. When she got in her night wear, you started unbraiding her hair. “Has Prince Aegon yet to return?” you asked “As usual he has not. I don't except him to. He himself must prefer where his currently sleeping, or rather who” you learned quickly enough that the Princess preferred much more as well that he did not return to their shared chambers. Her relationship with her brother, despite being married and having twins, never really changed, no romantic love blossomed between them as it had for their great-grandsire and his sister wife, the good Queen Alyssane.

——

Sleep for once had come easy last night, which was unusual. You quickly dressed yourself in a light blue dress with puffy sleeves and fixed your hair accordingly. You walked to the sept, not too fast and not too slow, as you smiled carefully and politely greeted other members of court. The sept was cold, filled with the chilly air of the morning, but the candles as you lit them quickly warmed you up. One for your mother, your father, your grandparents. You sat on your knees and silently moved your lips as you recited the correct prayers. You felt a heavy presence move next to you and start praying as well. You did not feel particularly happy about that, knowing you couldn’t sit in the sept as long as you usually do with another observing you. You prayed for a few more minutes, then started to recite all the other prayers you knew, eager to wait out the presences departure. It did not come, you felt the person move and stand up, giving you a brief moment of hope, till you realised they weren’t leaving, seemingly waiting for you to finish. You finished your last known prayer and blowed out the candles you previously lit, carefully standing up and dusting off nonexistent filth. You turned around to be met face to face with Prince Aemond. It was for the best really, you reasoned, Prince Aemond was unmarried still, you could attempt to secure a match for yourself with a second son, bastard or not, you were still the oldest and one of the only surviving members of House Tyrell. Although, Prince Aemond never wanted you to forget your illegitimacy, “Lady Flower” he started, always putting an emphasis on your last name. “I was beginning to wonder you were avoiding me with how much you were praying” he continued. He was easily dislikable. You smiled politely “Of course not, my Prince, House Tyrell sadly has lots of deceased members” a half truth. The l Prince examined you with his icy gaze, it was clear he did not like you at all, nor made an attempt to hide his disdain for bastards, even if their standing was in Highgarden, the same House his mothers family had sworn to.

“I have a personal request for you” he spoke after a beat of silence.

You held your breath, hoping it was something that was easily completed and would not question your honour, more than it already was since your birth. “Ser Criston, my mothers and your Queens, royal guard has been sent for business on my grandfathers command down in Kings Landing, the western part. I was ought to come with him but my duties do not allow me time to do so. I was hoping you’d be of help.” “But the Princess—” “The Princess has already been informed that you have matters to attend to for today. You post will be filled with some other lady.” He has already planned this out. His words gave you little room to think of anything else. “Of course my Prince” he did not smile or thank you, just started to walk. You took that as your cue to follow him.

After a few, albeit long and nerve filled minutes, you found yourself in the company of Ser Criston and Prince Aemond. Ser Criston was not wearing his usual armour, but instead he wore a dark grey cloak and a hat to match it, trying to cover his appearance. He handed you a dark blue and dusty cloak and despite your initial disgust, you wore it with not one complain and put on the attached hood. They spoke quietly amongst themselves, then looked back at you, then back at each other. You smiled politely, but not for two long, so they wouldn’t deem you as stupid. You were pretty sure the Prince would think so anyway, despite your best efforts.

After a few minutes of exchanging quiet conversation and a few hissed whispers at each other, Ser Criston started to walk outside, nodding for you to follow him. Prince Aemond send you a warning glance before you left. You quickly followed Ser Criston outside, it had been your first time outside the walls of the castle, so you didn’t know how dangerous it could be. But it must have been dangerous enough, for he still kept his sword on him, gripping it as you walked side by side. After a while, you found the courage to ask “Is there a specific reason why I was asked to join you today?” Ser Criston replied without looking at you, with a stern expression staring ahead “You will see for yourself soon enough.” It was unfair to drag you out of your daily responsibilities and to not even inform you why, withholding information from the quest they sent you to, you thought in bitter annoyance.

“Whatever you see today, I do not want you to inform the Queen.”

What. “What?”

“I have been given stern instructions not to inform her by the Hand himself. You will follow them as well. Is that understood?”

You spoke after a moment, unable to move from your suprise at his words “….Yes.”

You walked in silence for some time, passing men, women and children alike most of them skinny, thin, bony actually. So thin you could reach and touch them and you’d feel their bones more than their skin. They looked as if the only thing separating their bones from the outside world was a thin dirty sheet, that hugged their body tightly. A few were laying on the cold dirt ground, most likely dead, judging by the smell. You hoped you’d leave that smell in the past. The stench of death hung heavy in the air. Rotting flesh mingled with the acrid smoke of burning bodies, creating a nauseating odor that clawed at the senses. The sickly sweet smell of decay was like a miasma, shrouding everything in a pall of despair. The back gate of the castle had been at the southeast part of the city, which meant you were seeing first hand the consequences of starvation. There were so many dead bodies, rotting unattended to, that the risk of a disease breaking out pretty soon seemed the only logical outcome. They weren’t burning fast enough, there were more dead laying on the ground than healthy men that were able to stand on their feet to continue this task.

Some were cussing King Viserys, who having been so many years bedridden had cast his curse on the city, to have everyone slowly die like he was. Others cussed Princess Rhaenyra for leaving and not taking the throne to protect the realm. Others cussed Queen Alicent and her court of men, who chose to cut the food supply from Highgarden for whatever reason. To you horror, as you walked to the western part of the city, you realised the wave of starvation had affected not only the south, but the east and a part of the west as well. You speculated the north was also highly affected too. As you thought some more, you finally began to l piece a few things together. The amount of money the Iron Bank lended to the throne had not been just for that damn well, as you were pretty sure the court wouldn’t sacrifice the entire population of Kings Landing just for that. Who would pay taxes in that case? You also knew that the castle had more than enough money to never need a loan from the Iron Bank, but they didn’t want to use the money from there for whatever they were truly using the loan for. If they used the thrones savings for anything, they always had to keep it in account and they didn’t want any physical evidence. The well was being used as a means to launder off money in a way. Your father had explained you long ago what that meant. You didn't want to think of him now.

Instead, you wondered if the Queen actually knew. You weren’t sure if she knew truly what the loan was used for, or the true state Kings Landing was in, judging at least from the instructions Ser Criston was given from the Hand. Oh. The Hand. You should’ve realised so sooner. It seems the Queen was kept in the dark for some time regarding matters such as this. As the Queen you weren’t sure how much she knew and how much she chose to believe certain things were true. How she believed her fathers word on a scale. It must be a combination of trust and of wanting her consciousness at peace. What you knew became your responsibility as well, after all. You couldn’t judge the Hand for doing so, after all the reason you were here was because you acted in a similar manner towards your younger brother. Although you’d never put at risk so many innocent people to keep a lie believable. You liked to think a certain amount of the self-sacrifice they taught ladies like you was still left, or at least some morality.

You looked at Ser Criston, his eyes betrayed no disgust, sadness or anger at the image in front of him. His brows were slightly forrowed but that could be from the smell. Out of all the people in court, except a few middle born ladies, you shared the most similarities with Ser Criston. You both came from low-born mothers after all and knew the struggles that came with. He seemed to forget his roots, though. You walked and walked till you stopped in front of a whore house, deep in the centre of Kings Landing, far away from sickness, pain and grief, here the people still danced and drank despite it only being mid-day. Ser Criston turned to you “I’ll need to you to go inside, and fetch Prince Aegon in the calmest manner you can master. Don’t attract much attention. Quickly.” Before you could answer, Ser Criston knocked on the door and a woman in frizzy blonde curls and pink underwear opened the door and looked at both of you expectingly. She seemed annoyed you noted. Ser Criston looked at you, motioning for you to speak.

“We have direct orders from the castle to bring Prince Aegon back. There are urgent matters he needs to attend to.” You looked at yo it partner for a moment, wanting to see if your words were up to his expectations. He nodded at you silently and you looked back at the woman you with a grunt showed you the way inside. Ser Criston stayed outside and the door close with a loud thud. You were glad for once that the cloak that had been given to you had a hood and that the whore house had colourful curtains covering the windows.

#hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #aegon x reader #aemond x reader #jacaerys x reader #helaena targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #alicent hightower #daemon targaryen #hotd angst #dark hotd

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quatregats · 7 months ago

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‘I beg your pardon, sir, but Captain’s compliments and would you like to see something amazingly philosophical?’ cried Babbington, darting in like a ball. After the dimness of the gun-room the white blaze on deck made it almost impossible to see, but through his narrowed eyelids Stephen could distinguish Old Sponge, the taller Greek, standing naked in a pool of water by the starboard hances, dripping still and holding out a piece of copper sheathing with great complacency. On his right stood Jack, his hands behind him and a look of happy triumph on his face: on his left most of the watch, craning and staring. The Greek held the corroded copper sheet out a little farther and, watching Stephen’s face intently, he turned it slowly over. On the other side there was a small dark fish with a sucker on the back of its head, clinging fast to the metal. ‘A remora!’ cried Stephen with all the amazement and delight the Greek and Jack had counted upon, and more. ‘A bucket, there! Be gentle with the remora, good Sponge, honest Sponge. Oh, what happiness to see the true remora!’ Old Sponge and Young Sponge had been over the side in this flat calm, scraping away the weed that slowed the Sophie’s pace: in the clear water they could be seen creeping along ropes weighed down with nets of shot, holding their breath for two minutes at a time, and sometimes diving right under the keel and coming up the other side from lightness of heart. But it was only now that Old Sponge’s accustomed eye had detected their sly common enemy hiding under the garboard-strake. The remora was so strong it had certainly torn the sheathing off, they explained to him; but that was nothing – it was so strong it could hold the sloop motionless, or almost motionless, in a brisk gale! But now they had him – there was an end to his capers now, the dog – and now the Sophie would run along like a swan. For a moment Stephen felt inclined to argue, to appeal to their common sense, to point to the nine-inch fish, to the exiguity of its fins; but he was too wise, and too happy, to yield to this temptation, and he jealously carried the bucket down to his cabin, to commune with the remora in peace. And he was too much of a philosopher to feel much vexation a little later when a pretty breeze reached them, coming in over the rippling sea just abaft the larboard beam, so that the Sophie (released from the wicked remora) heeled over in a smooth, steady run that carried her along at seven knots until sunset, when the mast-head cried, ‘Land ho! Land on the starboard bow.’

- Master and Commander, Chapter 6

#he just wants to commune with his remora.....#i love this whole passage. how he's interweaving all of these different perspectives and voices and events #patrick o'brian writer of all time #perce rambles #aubreyad #The Creative Endeavor and other aubreyad nonsense

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lullabyes22-blog · 5 months ago

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Snippet - The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Backalley Galaxy - Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Jinx's cosmic field trip + self-care retreat + honeymoon

Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Snippet:

Jinx breathes deep. She aligns emotion with essence, desire with deed.

Then, with a blink of her eyelids, the glyphs take flight. Red-gold-green-violet-blue, wrapping around her in concentric circles. Rings of a planet, and they're hers.

So's the cosmos just beyond the range of her senses, not one but thousands, rising and falling in a seismograph of symphonies.

She doesn't touch them. That's as risky as hitchhiking down the Deadlands at midnight with the family jewels jingling in your pocket and a bright red apple stuck in your mouth.

She's learnt that the hard way: that there's an ether between each cosmic fabric. An infinite fold, where broken things wander. Where you'll lose yourself if you're not disciplined enough to keep to one world, and one alone.

Jinx has been caught in the ether's undertow before. Found herself caught between the jaws of its allure, and the impact would've pulverized her bones.

She'd fought the tide with all her strength as it tried to drag her under. She'd tried to remember all the tricks in the books she'd read. The names of everyone who'd ever mattered to her. Everything she'd ever built. Everything she'd ever blown apart.

Everyone she'd ever loved.

Mommy. Daddy. Vander. Mylo. Claggor.

Silco.

Vi.

Ekko.

And all the while, from the depths, she'd heard them calling. Figments that could've been phantoms. Maybe friends; maybe foes. Old selves, new selves. Those who were still here, and those who'd been lost. And some who'd yet to live, and looked upon her with eyes the color of Silco's good blue one, and dark ringlets in their hair, and copper in their skins.

She'd longed to embrace them. Longed to hear them speak. To say: Hey, y'all. You're my peeps.

My family.

That's what they'd whispered, too. They'd promised her everything: magic, mass, matter. A love that tasted, not of bitter betrayals and hidden heartbreaks, but eternity. Kisses that didn't end on the fullstop of borrowed time and fractured fairytales, but lasted forever-and-ever, without death cutting the cord between bodies and souls.

Promises that she could have it all. That it was hers for the taking.

All she had to do was reach out and touch...

Stay, the voices crooned. Stay.

We have everything you want, Jinx. A story of your own, where you can write whatever ending you like. Where nobody's gonna tell you what ain't right, or what ain't real. You can make your life a bestseller, complete with stars and starlets. And every scene is exactly the way you pictured it. Every hero, a winner. Every villain, a flash in the pan.

All playtime, all pranks, all perfect.

Forever.

Jinx knew better.

Perfect was a losing game from the get-go.

She'd struggled. Against their seductions of friendship, their false vows of closure. She'd screamed, and those succubae and incubae beyond reckoning had screamed back to her. Their eyes, black and poison-hungry, had snared her within the wormhole of their netted designs. She'd fought on, knowing the fight was futile.

Because they had already begun to feast.

And then—

Two voices, reaching from above and below. Each speaking in counterpoint with the other. Calling out in stereo, in synchronicity. Urging her on, keeping her strong. Keeping her fighting.

You don't belong to them, Jinx.

Never surrender.

Never forget.

Vi and Silco, calling out to her like dueling sirens. Their cries, echoes of each other. Echoes of her.

Full circle.

With a scream, she'd flung herself backward. She'd fallen, and was caught by the slipstream of her own momentum. And she'd have gone on being caught, spinning in circles over and over, if Viktor hadn't cut through the maelstrom and done the job that she could not.

Ended it.

And with the ending, came the rebirth.

The Change.

On that day, Jinx had killed Powder for the final time. She'd laid the little girl to rest in a corpus of stardust, with Vander and Mylo and Claggor gathered round, and serene silence stirring in her heart.

No funeral rites. Just farewells, and crows circling away.

She'd taken Viktor's hand, clasped his bony fingers, and touched her cheek to his. He'd been beautiful in that twilit realm, garbed in silver glory and faded sepia with gore. And yet his fragility burned bright. That boyish sense of wonder, a pindot intensity in his eyes.

Persisting, despite everything. Outnumbering the odds.

Let's go, she'd whispered.

Yes, he'd said. Let's.

And they'd begun the journey, through endless fathoms of light and dark. Begun, and yet stood in stasis, as Viktor began the deadly, delicate work of solidifying their tether, stitch-by-stitch, so she'd always feel the throbbing sense of a twin soul burning bright inside her. So they'd never again lose each other among the superhighways of the Void.

Between dimensions; between dreams; between deaths.

Together, Jinx-and-Viktor had slipped along the ether's currents. Together, they'd leapt from thread-to-thread. Together, they'd glided down the lustrous string of fate guiding them to the only destination that mattered. A haven, right and ripe for their union. He'd shaped the atoms, the sensory lexicon; Jinx breathed life into them, crafted the glittering palimpsest of their memories: lace-tipped waves flowing, spangled stars dancing, sands of time glittering cool and ticklish beneath their bare feet.

In this place, they'd shared themselves as one.

I can hear your memories, Jinx.

I can taste yours. Freaky.

Viktor smiled his gentle smile. In the other realm—the real one? the false one?—he was never much more than a pair of scrutinizing eyes at a guarded distance, his pale jaw set and his narrow shoulders braced to carry a thousand burdens.

Here, he could let down that shielded stance. Be himself, stripped to the softly-luminous core.

Human, and all hers.

There was so much I wished to unlock, he whispered, tracing folded fingers down the constellations on her cheek. And it's all here. Within you.

Told ya. I'm one of a kind.

Viktor's smile stayed put. He pressed his forehead to hers. Do you know... how many universes there are, Jinx?

Oodles.

A hypothesis, then. You, Jinx—

Me?

—and all your variations throughout the multiverse are the nexus of a grander design. You are a singularity, around which our private cosmos spins.

Like an atom?

Or a cog.

Jinx drew back. Made a moue. Cogs are for killjoys.

The gentle shine of his eyes was undimmed. The fingertips tracing her skin left spectral swirls, fireworks balanced on their reflections in the water.

Cogs are part of something greater than themselves. Their beauty lies in their connection to the rest. And their meaning lies in their motion. Without it, we would stagnate. Wither. Die.

Sheesh, that's depressing.

I mean to say that you have freed me from inertia, Jinx. With you... He stopped. Not bashfulness, because Viktor had no room left for that. Not here. All that stood out was the reverence: bleeding through as he cradled her head in his hands. With you, there is the potential for infinite possibilities, each spinning off into another, and another after that. And I... Awe, spilling out in trembles. I want to discover them. Discover all the possibilities there could be.

We will, Jinx promised, and twined her arms around him. We'll punch 'em out—Bam! Pow! Ka-ching!—until it's all just one big beautiful mess with Zaun's flag flying over it.

He'd laughed, as she'd known he would.

They stayed on that little island forever. Or between fractions of split-seconds. Whatever. Time wasn't time there. It was timeless. Hand-in-hand, they'd walked the mirrored shores and followed the seagrass bowing over dunes shaped like diamonds. They'd played tag through the night-blooming gardens, swinging under flowering archways, until their own laughter left them dizzed. They'd embraced in the coral caves, foreheads together, eyes locked and spirits resonating as they resurrected old pains and buried them there, together.

Later, dragging herself through the unmitigated ugliness of reality, Jinx would wish for eidetic memory. Wish she'd captured every ripple, every revelation, every rapture. Keep it catalogued somewhere for posterity.

But wishes are for wide-eyed dreamers.

Jinx was eyes-shut awake.

And because she was awake, she remembered enough. Enough for nostalgia. Enough for dreams.

Enough for hope.

Enough, but little else.

She remembered when they'd departed the silvered shores, leaving unmarked the sand where their feet had left prints, and the latticed starlight had safeguarded their secrets. The parting was inevitable; life was waiting for them beyond its bounds. Silco, and Vi, and Zaun. The consequences of Viktor's reckless error, and Jinx's swandive toward martyrdom.

The cost of perfection, writ in blood.

They'd joined once more, but it wasn't the death-defying anamnesis of before. It was easy-as-you-please, as Jinx opened herself to him and invited him to melt into the spaces between her atoms. Because he belonged there now; because this was home-away-from-home.

It would be, for the rest of their days.

And though the joy was a sacred flame, and Viktor's smile so, so sweet, it was a sorrowful sweetness.

Because Jinx knew, down deep, she was meant to be twined with another. Another, with whom nothing was going to be same again. Her bond with Viktor was set, settled, deep in Jinx's matrix. Her quicksilver thoughts, filtered through Viktor's keen self-focus. His wisdom, transfigured by her volatility.

A mutuality that'd make the Void sing, if they traversed these dimensions again.

And yet...

And yet, Jinx wished for someone else. Wished with every fiber of herself. Because even if their orbits had spun out of sync, the scars were still strung like pearls between them, shining bright as the stars that'd made them for each other. Still calling out, back and forth: an endless song-of-call and response.

Ekko, Ekko, Ekko.

It’d always be the pair of them. Hand-to-hand; heart-to-heart. Building gizmos in the basement and racing across the rooftops, their laughter chasing after like shooting-stars.

She must've wept, or wailed, or shown some secret anguish. Because Viktor had paused to clasp her hands in his own.

I'm sorry, he'd told her. Truly. I wish—

She'd wished too, for a whole different outcome. For better odds, and safer bets. For a happily-ever-after that left you smiling to the last, not sobbing till your guts ached and your heart bled across the rainy cobblestones inches from your father’s corpse.

She'd wished so fucking bad.

But wishes, well. You know.

It's okay, Vik, she'd whispered back. I don't regret this.

No?

Not for a damn second. It's the shiniest thing that ever happened to me. A tiny grimace. Even if we did sorta cock it up on the other side.

He didn't laugh, as she knew he wouldn't. Only enfolded her close, as fiercely as he must've prayed for a good leg and a working pair of lungs as a boy. Jinx held him back, twice as tight, knowing, somehow, that it would be the last time they could do so without boundaries. On the other side, the gentleness of him would recede from her synapses, leaving behind an imprint. An echo.

And not the Ekko who was always just one step away, forever reaching out his hand to catch her when she fell, or when she flew too high on the fumes of freedom and forgot how to live without hurting others or hurting herself.

How strange, to be held, yet hollowed out.

To be so close, yet so far from closure.

Viktor's lips touched her forehead. They were one: the essence of themselves flowering into a breathless harmony. Yet there were tears standing in his eyes, unashamed.

If it were mine to give, he said. I'd let you stay here forever.

Psssh. Jinx nuzzled closer. No can do.

No?

Silly would shank ya.

Viktor said nothing. Just smiled. Just waited.

And Jinx, readying herself for the home stretch, nodded.

The last threads wove into one. And together, they plunged. Back through the membrane of creation, universes strobing and spinning out from underneath their feet. The cosmic strands rippled at their passing, each humming their own individual melody, each imparting their own secrets. Jinx breathed those melodies in. Hoarded those secrets for safekeeping. In another life—one where Vi kept her temper screwed on straight; where Sevika didn't pity her guts; where Silco...

Oh, Silco.

Jinx shut her eyes, and let the tears burn out. Shut her ears to the screaming chorus as they crossed the in-between realm. It sang out from all directions, filling the dark fabric between hers and Viktor's consciousness, trying to invade the stronghold their mindmade love had fused between themselves.

No dice.

Their bond lasted the distance. It outran the phantoms snapping at their heels, and the vortex yawning to swallow them. Viktor felt her pain and wrapped it in empathy; Jinx felt his fragility and fortified it with fearlessness.

That, at least, they could do, and well.

Together.

Merged, their spirits scaled the distance, carrying them out from the interdimensional fold, and back to the Now. Back to Zaun, with its pulsating neon and its insatiable hungers: the nexus of home and hell, where tragedies and triumphs marched to the mad drum of Progress.

Maybe, Jinx cracked, I'll write a book.

Oh?

The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Backalley Galaxy. It'll be a hoot!

Doubtless, replied Viktor, half-here, half-everywhere, but solid as an anchor as they made explosive landfall.

Together, they returned.

Together, they lived.

Together...

...in the med-bay, with its nauseatingly bright halogens, and the searing stink of disinfectant, and Silco's bottomless rage, and his fist slamming into Viktor's gut.

A strange pain, hot and prickling. It echoed inside Jinx. In tune with Viktor's shock.

Then: darkness.

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