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akampana · 3 years

Note

16 cutoria but in a vampire/werewolf au?

ANON LOOK WHAT YOU DID ITS 6716 WORDS LONG/lh

16 “I didn’t want to tell you like this, but I have no choice.” Werewolf AU Cú Chulainn x Arturia Pendragon

________

“You’ve stalled for too long, brat.”

The she-wolf dropped into the clearing without a sound, her experienced paws padding across the forest floor as lightly as the beating of butterfly wings. Scáthach was a creature of grace, even as a large canine. Her hunts were nothing short of elegant either, carried out quiet enough such as not to disturb the night. It was no wonder at all that she was once the Alpha of the pack.

The new Alpha was not so. Though the runs he was tasked to lead were mostly just as productive, he was rough and arrogant, hunting larger prey while scorning rabbits and smaller faunus. While the pups enjoyed being handed larger game whenever he came to the den, his chosen prey’s strangled cries always alerted nearby animals to go running. In winter, such conduct put the whole pack in danger of going hungry.

Despite that, it was only Scáthach who ever told him off, for there was no one else quite as strong as the large grey beast that was bestowed the honor of being their leader.

“You know what snow does to the rival packs, Cú,” hummed the wiser wolf as she circled the hubristic pup. She was never in favor of putting him in the lead just yet, but she had served her purpose, teaching him all that she knew. She didn’t doubt he had the prowess. He just lacked the responsibility.

“They have been seen closing in on our territory, now that prey runs scarce. You’ve been lucky, bringing in as much elk as you have thus far. But how will you maintain that while defending the territory, hm? Pull a miracle and find some loose sheep like you did last winter?”

Her pup-turned-leader snorted, shaking his snout as he stalked away. “This another attempt at getting me a mate, old hag?”

The she-wolf bared her teeth at the new alpha, batting his snout with her paw. “A mate shows power and longevity, you know this. Fionn may not have been the best father to you, but he brought you brothers and he brought you safety.”

“I ain’t taking Medb,” Cú snarled back, his fur standing on end at the thought. “So shove it. I’m heading out. Tell Ferdíad I can’t make it to game night.”

Without another word, the alpha wolf bounded off into the trees faster than the human eye could follow. He leapt past hills, his paws crunching snow beneath him, careless of the little prey that scuttled about. They were done with today’s hunt. Even Ferdíad's litter could go to sleep completely satisfied.

The wolf dodged through the thick vegetation mile after mile, until the paths he marked out for the younger wolves were no longer in sight. Although he doubted the den mother would approve of him going so far out into their territory alone, he was the alpha now. His decisions would no longer be questioned.

Finally, he came to a cave: an old abandoned bear den, that lesser beings avoided though its owner no longer lived there. His sharp ruby eyes darted to his surroundings, making sure he wasn’t followed. Then, he entered the den, as he had done several times before, and came out the cave’s other end.

Only Diarmuid knew about his hideout, and he’d like to keep it that way. As long as the beta kept this little secret within the pack territory, Cú could keep her safe.

The large canine made his way past a few evergreen trees ‘til the humble farm came into view. Sure enough, there she was in the middle of the fenced off enclosure, sitting amongst her sheep while the lambs fed on the last of the grass.

Here was Scáthach’s little “miracle”: a shepherd that had seen Cú’s starving figure at the edge of her farm last winter and purposely left her fence gate open. To this day, Cú still did not know why she did it, but her generosity got his entire pack through the harsh season.

In return, he’d secretly kept foxes and wild wolves off her farm, making sure the lesser beings knew better than to encroach on his personal territory.

At least, that’s what he did as a wolf.

Cú returned to his little cave, snarling as his fur receded into his skin. The alpha curled onto the ground, biting his own paw to stifle his groans as the bones within him shrank and contorted into a lesser form. His snout receded into a straight nose, his fangs into passably human sharp teeth. Without his night vision, Cú reached blindly for the small duffel bag tucked into a small hollow and pulled out an artificial coat and a pair of trousers.

What snuck out of the enclosure was no longer a grey apex predator, but a tall, muscled man with flowing dark hair: an ordinary hunter, no more special than the ones that frequented the northern town.

The bell chimed as he walked through the entrance, signalling the blonde shop owner of his arrival. Cú tried not to smile too widely as Arturia Pendragon popped her head through the staff door, but he knew that was a futile effort.

“Hey, shortie.”

“Good evening, Cú,” replied the woman, snorting at his favorite nickname for her as he hung his coat on the rack. “I have your usual ready...though I still cannot understand why you prefer coming here rather than the supermarket. You know Arthur takes our supply every Monday. He's down there with Arash the rest of the week. Isn’t that a little closer to home?”

Right. She still thought he lived in town. It was easier than saying he lived across the woods in a village even more secluded then hers which would be impossible to get to from here without a two hour drive unless you were a wolf that could cross the forest terrain in a fraction of time, so he didn’t correct her.

The Irishman shrugged and sank into the rug before the fireplace. “Mutton’s better fresh. 'Sides, the grocers don't stock your pies. Ya really should sell 'em, Arturia, I'm tellin' ya.”

The woman scoffed, lightly nudging her friend to the side with her foot. As he scooched over, she set down a food tray between them: one with two glasses of whiskey and two slices of pie.

"Flatterer," she accused, handing the bigger slice to Cú anyway. He wolfed it down in seconds.

The first time he showed up at her door went much the same way, just a lot more awkward.

It was the day after his wolf came home with her sheep. He'd already knocked on her door to thank her before realizing how stupid that idea was. What was he meant to say?

Hey, uh, thanks for letting me hunt your sheep to feed my pack. My best friend's wife just popped a litter of hungry babies, hehe gotta feed them young am I right? Oh, by the way, I'm the wolf from yesterday, nice to meet you—Yep. No. not gonna work. This was a terrible idea. Stupid, really. He was stupid. Why did he even come here again?

Then she swung open the door, freezing the man in place with his mouth half open.

"Can I help you?" She asked, but before he could even reply, he was greeted by snow. Everywhere. All at once. Down his spine and into his underwear.

Now, he wasn't as susceptible to the cold as the common human, but she did not know that. Before he could even get a word out, he was sitting in front of the fire to dry while she ran to get him something warm to drink.

A change into Arthur's clothes and some hot coffee later, he was being served pie at the dining table to make up for his unexpected snow shower.

"Again, I sincerely apologize for that. My brother and I haven't had the chance to fix the porch roof. We just moved to this old farm last month,” rambled the short Welsh woman as she handed him a hot towel.

After some hesitation and observation on the stranger’s way of dress, she asked, “Did...did you come here for lamb?"

Little did she know, she'd just handed Cú the perfect excuse. Plus, he now knew exactly how to show his gratitude.

"If I fix up yer roof would ya give me a discount?"

Over the next week, Cú would come to the Pendragon residence to make repairs. It wasn’t just the roof that needed patching up.

It turns out she and her brother were alone in the world, cheated out of their inheritance and everything else they owned by their older sister. All that was left to them was this old farm and cottage, which neither had visited since they were kids. Their half-sibling even threw in three truckloads of animals as a joke, since she had all the riches in the world to spend and a special budget for humiliating the two green-eyed blondes.

Still, the twins were educated. Brilliant, even. And though they were clumsy when it came to most household repairs, their experience tending equine stables for their late father translated rather well to animal husbandry. In a month, they had made enough to pay the bills and get them a secondhand laptop and working Wi-fi. The next month saw Arturia getting her own computer.

Half a year down the line, Cú was sure that the Pendragon siblings would move out, but here they stayed, still maintaining their humble farm though it was no longer their only form of income. Neither of them needed the burden of moving back to London, with its ridiculously high cost of living and impossible rent rates. They’d grown fond of the land they actually owned and its peace.

That suited Cú just fine, because he had grown fond of Arturia.

Cú still visited, even after all the repairs had finished. His nephews were always hungry, and while the mutton did not satisfy the little pups’ bloodlust as much as wild game, it made up for the deficit while the children were in human form. But even Arthur knew his bi-monthly purchases were just an excuse.

He was there for the coffees, for the brief moments his fingers would brush hers. He was there for the whiskey, the cheap bottles they shared before the fireplace while she told him everything she could about the city. He was there to make fun of her posh way of speaking, to pull the ribbon from her hair, to bring her fruits and berries and furs and let her read him books.

He was there for her.

Scáthach’s training only increased in intensity as the months passed, and between his day job and being the new alpha, Cú had little time left for himself. But what he could spare, he spent with his favorite person, even if it was just watching her tend her sheep from a distance while he kept foxes out of her territory.

Cú tucked a lock of blonde hair behind her ear, happy to see she didn’t even flinch, but plagued by the thought of his wolf. He was the pack alpha now, and that meant a shitload of other responsibilities that would keep him from her for as long as he held that title.

“That’s all yer charging me, shortie? Nah, can’t be,” Cú resisted, pushing a few more bills across the table. “That’s way too cheap, even if yer sweet on me.”

Pink-faced, Arturia slid the packed meats back across the counter, reached behind her, and procured a carefully wrapped circular dish which she placed in a bag.

“Take it,” she insisted, hooking the bag onto his fingers. “We’ve been ridiculously lucky to not get any wolves and foxes considering how much higher into the mountains we live compared to the rest of the town. There is more than enough left for Arthur and I.”

Cú peeked into the extra bag, catching a glimpse of a familiar crust. God, she was far too kind. He’d reject the offer, but he’d always wanted to bring some shepherd’s pie back to the pack. This was his chance.

“Ya sure?”

“Absolutely,” she confirmed, holding open the front door as Cú made his exit. “This is the least I could do for you, Cú. You have helped make us feel home in this far-off place. I would even say that you are family but—”

“Go out with me,” the werewolf interrupted, shoving all his reservations into his internal dumpster. He didn’t know how yet, but he was gonna make this work. “Come on, I know ya like me, shortie.”

Tiptoeing, Arturia snaked a hand into his hair and pulled him down to her level, planting a small kiss on his cheekbone.

“It is...a little more than ‘like’, I believe,” the woman admitted bashfully, trying to mask her embarrassment by awkwardly sneaking back behind the door. “...Eight tomorrow?”

Cú bit his lip, glad to hear confirmation on what he already knew. She loved him back. She loved him back. God, he better not be looking like a child just handed some candy.

“Nah, this morning weekend. This weekend morning. The morning of this weekend,” he fumbled, rewarded with a short chuckle from her end. “I wanna have a whole day with ya for once, shortie. I’ll make it worth yer time.”

There was a spring in his step as the alpha bounded across the forest that night, carrying the bags carefully with the handles between his teeth.

If only he weren’t so distracted. Then he’d have noticed the salivating spy that watched him leave the abandoned bear den with a fresh pack of meat.

Snow fell heavily across the landscape on Tuesday evening, covering the last of autumn’s colors in a blanket of pure white. After dinner time was always idle for Cú, so he spent it sharing Arturia’s gift with the kids and spinning his phone in his fingers.

Instinct told him a storm was coming, and though it would probably have passed by Saturday, Cú wondered if he should try and reschedule his anticipated date. He wasn’t too worried about Arturia, since Arthur said he’d be coming back up to the cottage tonight, so at least she wouldn’t be alone all through it. Plus, the twins really did have a lot of food in stock. In comparison, he and his pack were the ones less prepared.

His sharp ears perked up as a familiar presence entered the grounds. The alpha’s brow knitted, as the slight smell of blood entered the air, but if the little ones weren’t alarmed, it must not have been such a serious wound.

Diarmuid stepped into the kitchen, still pulling on a wool jacket and shaking the snow off of his dark hair.

“Evening, Alpha,” the handsome man said softly, taking notice of the pie that sat in front of the pups.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, just call me Cú. Yer no less my little bro now than ya were before, Diar,” he corrected, sliding a plate his way. “Try that.”

The amber-eyed man approached the meal like a cat did water: hesitantly and suspiciously. Thankfully, as soon as he had a taste he had about the same reaction as Ferdiad’s kids did. Which was...basically nearly crying tears of joy.

“Where did you say you got this?” Diarmuid asked, snatching up another helping as Cú smirked. He’d not give the answer up that easily.

The alpha’s red eyes landed on his brother’s shoulder, finding a clumsy bandage just sticking out the collar. At once, he herded the beta into a different room, far enough from the pups that they couldn’t hear.

“The hell happened to ya?” Cú demanded, pulling the shirt collar to the side to better gauge the severity of the wound.

“It’s a warning, Sétanta” Scáthach answered for her son, entering the log cabin from the back door. “The rival packs were closing in on the border. I doubt their side of the mountain is as scarce as they make it out to be and yet they have the gall to encroach on ours.”

“Our territory’s guarded. That’s why we moved Fergus, ain’t it? To cover all bases. Den in the center with the pups, Me and Diar in the North, and dad in the South. Fergus’s gang to the west, and we got the town in the east and all wolves know not to mess with the towns,” Cú shot back, unconcerned.

Red eyes much alike to Cú’s observed him with kind care, seeing the wolf pup and alpha both. The new leader was strong, but he was arrogant. In a way, he was a perfect successor, for she knew he could kill her should the need arise. However, too loose he was with laws; too untethered by the rules that kept their kind safe.

“It would be a show of strength to take a mate. To let all know that our new Alpha has his right hand—”

Cú waved his arms dismissively. “The hands I do have are more than enough to drive them off. Ya know that. Now, are we stocking up for the pups or what? The storm ain’t gonna delay, I can smell it.”

22:24 Read

Cú paced the main den like a dog kept in an enclosure for far too long, tossing his half-charged phone while he awaited her message.

Four days. It had been four days since the blizzard started, piling snow on top of snow day after day as if it was trying to beat some arctic record. The log cabin’s ground floor was completely sealed in. They’d been on generator for the last four hours, listening to the weatherman on the radio as he promised for the third time that tonight the storm would finally pass.

Diarmuid was curling up with his nephews, keeping them warm in wolf form as they slept. Cú thanked every god he knew that they went on a hunt before the blizzard hit, else the kids went hungry. He and Diarmuid hadn’t planned to stay at their brother’s but the weather hardly gave them a choice. Their cottage was a lot further off.

22:24 Read

Cracks appeared on the glass as Cú glared into his mobile’s screen, hoping for some sort of change. But no. There sat the same exchange from an hour ago, the same bloody text just very loudly broadcasting to him the worst news of today.

One of our generators broke down. I need to move the power to the barn.

For real? Are you okay, shortie?

Arturia?

Hey, ya can’t just leave me hangin like that.

Arturia?

22:24 Read

“Sétanta, would you just put the bloody phone down?!” Ferdiad screeched, snatching the device right out of the alpha’s hands. “I said we were gonna talk, how the hell are we supposed to talk when yer not even givin’ me the bloody time of day!”

The low growl that escaped through the alpha’s bared teeth shook the cabin like an earthquake.

“What,” Cú barked, grabbing his precious device back while his brother stood his ground. “If this is just another lecture about how Scáthach was right, I should have just fucked with Medb and get it over with, I ain’t hearing another fucking word.”

22:24 Read

“No, you piece of—” Ferdiad inhaled sharply, his nostrils flaring with frustration. The older man grabbed his brother by the shoulders, shaking him like a rattle. “Cú. Listen to me.”

As Diarmuid shushed them both, Ferdiad pointed outside, to where nothing could be seen but heavy white ice.

“Do you seriously think Scáthach wants you to mate that pink-haired priss? ‘Course not. She just needs ya to set down roots,” the delta wolf explained, looking over the alpha’s shoulder to his three sons. “You are the strongest of us, Cú, but nothing ties ya to this territory. For all the outsiders know you could be planning to move and make your own pack.”

The younger of them grimaced as Diarmuid nodded from his perch with the pups.

“I ain’t going nowhere,” the new alpha emphasized, shrugging out of his brother’s touch.

“Well they don’t know that! What if this whole time, the only reason they haven’t advanced is cause we’ve been keeping close watch on our borders, hm? Hell, you and Diar have basically been here the entire fucking week, they probably think you’ve bloody moved on. Wouldn’t surprise me in the least if they took advantage of this stupid storm to move into our territory, now that you’re not guarding the north!” Ferdiad argued, baring his fangs at his superior.

22:24 Read.

Cú’s heart stopped, the poor phone in his hands near crunching in his grip. No. The Pendragons didn’t live too far from the town. It was fine. She was fine. Just snowed in.

No werewolf was crazy enough to go near town in their canine form, not even the rival packs. There was too much risk of being found out. Simply no way.

Unless...

22:24 Read.

Unless they didn’t have any food in store. Unless they were looking for some easy pickings. Maybe a couple of sheep that wouldn’t be missed, stolen from a farm just a little out of range of the nearby village.

A farm with a single, vulnerable caretaker, forced to share a heater with her flock.

22:24 Read.

Cú frantically pressed the call button and put the phone to his ear, shushing Ferdiad before the delta could return to making his arguments. Three rings later and the line cut. He tried again, heart dropping like deadweight when it gave the same result.

His footsteps became panicked as he walked round in circles, scrolling upward to a contact that was here only for emergencies.

“Arthur,” Cú said through the phone, hearing the familiar voice of his blonde friend coming through the line. “‘S Arturia there with ya?”

Suddenly a quiet bang resounded throughout the room. A gunshot, deafened by distance and snow. Any false sense of security Cú still had shattered with the sound.

“The hell?” Ferdiad exclaimed, rushing towards his children to comfort them. “There can’t be any humans crazy enough to hunt in that storm.”

The alpha was no longer around to hear him.

Arturia never held any hate for her half-sister. Not even when she banned her and her twin to Ireland with nothing left to their name. Despite everything, Arturia thought her punishment was not too cruel, for she still had Arthur. She still had a degree under her belt, and in a way, Morgan had cast her far away from a destiny she didn’t even want to fulfil. Arthur never wanted to take over the mining company and neither did she.

The first few weeks were difficult, but they learned to live on their own. They made a humble world for themselves that wasn’t tied to their prestigious last name. It was simple. But it was good.

She’d admit it got a little lonely with just the two of them around, but...then there was Cú. Cú, who helped them fix up the house, who came bringing drinks or food they could all share by the fire. Cú, who helped them get set up at the market, who got them their regular buyers and still made himself a frequent customer. Cú, who made up excuses just to see her, who scorned the couch to lie down on her lap while she read.

The cabin was always a little warmer when he was around. It was home when he was around.

She should have asked him out sooner.

The wolves came crashing through the windows, raining thick glass all over her flock. There were seven of them. All massive beasts with fur of brown and grey, glowing eyes and bared fangs. In their view, she may as well have been just another sheep, helpless in the face of the predator.

The air was a cacophony of distressed bleating, panicked hooves and growls as the sheep tried their best to escape their fate. Amidst it were her own hoarse screams as a brown beast sank its fangs into her arms, her frantic kicks to its belly doing nothing to throw the large beast off. Desperate green eyes searched the floor for her gun, which sat useless under her first attacker, a chestnut wolf that had ignored smaller prey and gone straight for her.

Her own blood dripped down onto her cheeks as the wolf above her crushed her limbs between its teeth. Arturia’s eyes prickled with tears as fresh cries escaped her lips, grieving not from the pain but for all she was going to lose. So soon, she had to say goodbye to her new life, her brother, to any chance she ever had at a happy ending.

The woman felt her predator’s claw stomp onto her throat, stifling her screams as its teeth dug into her shoulder. Salt fell freely from her eyes as the beast tore through the muscle. Was this how she was going to die? Cold and alone amongst the carcasses of her flock? Was this how Arthur would find her when the blizzard did subside, torn to pieces and left scattered all over the barn floor?

Arturia shut her eyes, unwilling to let her last sight be that of her killer. Instead, she thought of Arthur, hoping someone would be there for him through it all. She thought of Cú, she thought of the lovely blue dress she was supposed to wear when she finally went out with him. She’d been waiting for the day to finally wear it. She knew he loved the color blue.

As her lungs began to burn for air, her final thought was a prayer to a God she didn’t know she still believed in. If she were to die today, then let it be the last pain her two favorite boys would ever experience—

Suddenly, frigid oxygen entered her lungs as her attacker was tackled off of her, leaving Arturia hacking and coughing as she gasped for breath. She sat up dizzily, gripping her injured shoulder with bleeding arms as she tried to get her bearings.

The pack had abandoned the few sheep that were left, hounding instead the new arrival: a wolf easily larger than her from head to tail, with grey fur that glistened in the little light. Its glowing red eyes seemed aflame with rage as it sank its teeth into her attacker’s throat and snapped its neck like a toothpick, showering all the surrounding dogs with their leader’s blood. Even then, the grey wolf did not stop, jumping at the next canine and carrying out its execution.

The woman limped to the exit as fast as she could, bracing herself against the biting cold as she made her way back to the cabin. Behind her, the barking continued as wolf fought against wolf, the red-eyed one beating off the remaining four while the frightened sheep ran wild with fear.

Arturia slammed the cabin door closed behind her, bolting every lock there was with frostbitten fingers before sneaking a glance back into the barn through the window. There was barely anything to make out amidst the pouring snow and the painful throbbing in her head, but all she knew was that somehow...the newcomer was winning.

She didn’t know what kind of divine intervention must have occurred for that wolf to come save her, but...all it did was buy her a little time. Even if she was safe from predators in the cabin, the freezing cold would take her before morning. Maybe she could start a fire, but she’d lost so much blood, she could barely even stand.

After much struggle to ignite the tinder, the injured woman slumped onto the rug before the fireplace, taking comfort in the hearth’s warmth as the blizzard raged on outside.

A loud crash brought her attention behind her, to where stood the red eyed wolf, blood staining the grey fur on his shoulder. Two emotions gripped her heart at the same time: fear and recognition. As the beast stalked its way toward her, she finally understood why he looked so familiar.

It was the young wolf from last year, the one who sat right outside her fence, neither coming in to attack her flock, nor fleeing at the sight of her. She’d always wondered what became of him after he ran off with a couple of her sheep. He had a lot more weight on him compared to back then, enough that she knew it was hopeless to try fighting him off. If he’d somehow defeated the entire pack in the barn, an injured human like herself didn’t stand a chance.

“It’s you, isn’t it?” she croaked, her shattered vocal chords barely able to keep up. “Please just make it quick.”

Almost as if he could understand her, the wolf whimpered and flattened his ears against his head, lowering himself as he approached.

For the second time that night, Arturia shut her eyes as the wolf caged her broken, shivering figure to the floor. She stiffened, anticipating another bite as he brought his head closer.

Then she felt a warm tongue lick her cheek.

Arturia’s eyes snapped open in surprise, locking with increasingly familiar ruby irises. The wolf lay its head on her chest, gently resting on top of her as it whimpered. Suddenly, it began to whine, jerking back and forth as its body contorted itself into a different shape. One that was smaller, one that hadn’t a silver coat of fur, one that no longer crushed her underneath its weight.

Soon it wasn’t a wolf at all that Arturia held in her arms, but a man. Large hands that she recognized traveled up to her cheeks, his thumbs stroking away her tears. Her heart warred with itself, overtaken by pain, relief, fear, security. But all of that could wait.

Cú leaned forward til he was kissing her, molding his mouth into hers til he had her lips memorized.

“Cú,” Arturia whispered, when they separated to breathe, her injured arms wearily looping around his neck. “You’re…”

“Sorry,” The man shushed her with another deep kiss, enveloping her shivering figure into his embrace. “I didn’t wanna tell you like this, but I have no choice. I’m—”

“The wolf from last winter,” she interrupted, her mind struggling to put together the pieces. “The…wolf who came to save me. You were here with me this whole tim—mmh”

The man’s fingers snaked behind her head, supporting her as tasted her mouth once more.

“Ya saved me first.”

There was a desperation in the way that he moved, the way he touched her cold skin. He didn’t want it to be like this. He wished their first kiss would have been somewhere warm. He wanted to take her out to the lake, hold her hand…not drag her into his world of hunt-or-be-hunted.

Cú pressed his lips to her neck, regretting the multitude of wounds she sustained there. If only he were here earlier. If only he were faster. This would never have happened if wasn’t so damn careless.

The werewolf pulled down her scarf and jacket, exposing the deep wounds the rival pack leader had left at the junction of her shoulder and all over her arms.

They bit her.

Cú pursed his lips, placing a few more kisses to her temple. He hoped it would be enough. He hoped she would understand his feelings for her. He hoped she would forgive him.

“Let’s get ya patched up, shortie, okay?”

Cú borrowed some of Arthur’s clothes for the second time, leaving her momentarily to redirect the power back to the cottage instead of the barn. There were nothing but carcasses to warm over there now. After that, he no longer left her side, nursing her wounds the best that he could and keeping her close to share his body heat.

“You’re gonna turn,” Cú said seriously, hugging the one person he loved more than anything to his chest. Werewolf saliva was powerful, and so their kind never endeavored to sink their teeth into humans unless they were sure to kill the target or intentionally make them part of their pack.

“How soon?” Arturia answered back, turning to look up at her saviour. All the fear in her eyes had disappeared, replaced with melancholy and trust. Of course she was upset. Creatures of his world had just gone and stolen her new life away.

“The next full moon,” Cú answered regretfully, “Tomorrow night.”

Cú brushed her bangs out of her face, letting his ruby eyes clash with her emeralds. “Ya scared?”

The man didn’t even know why he was asking. But what were you supposed to say to someone who was just dragged into a hidden world she knew nothing about? How was he supposed to tell her she’d be riddled with bloodlust for the rest of her life, that she’d crave the hunt, that she��d yearn for the night? How was he supposed to tell her she had to give up the one family she had left to keep him away from the life of a hunter?

“Should I be?” Arturia answered, deceptively calm. No doubt, she was thinking of the heavy price she had to pay for surviving.

Cú knew Scáthach was coming. He could feel it. As soon as this bloody storm let up, the she-wolf would put her nose to the air, track him down to this cottage, and put down the rival pack’s unintentional new member before she even had the chance to morph.

Not if he could help it.

“Ya said l was like family to you, Arturia, did ya mean it?” he asked, his heart racing like crazy. His favorite person nodded into his chest, fiddling with his fingers and palm.

“Then...d’ya wanna be that to me, forever though?” he stuttered out, suddenly losing all manner of confidence.

Arturia got up to face him. “How do you mean?”

“Damn yer really gonna let me get into the specifics, huh? Right,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his head despite himself. “Look, for us, there’s just one. One mate, for the rest of our lives. You just feel this...bond with them, ya know? Strong enough ya can’t bear to be without them. If ya let me, I want you to be that for me."

"Cú, are you asking me to wed you?" she asked back, confusion settling in the crease between her brows. "But we haven't even gone out yet—"

"Ya were gonna marry me eventually," he shot back, flicking the hair outta her face. "I'm quite the husband material, dontcha think? I bring ya food, I eat your pie—my family likes them by the way—I'm handsome as fuck, not ta mention, charming, what’s the harm in speeding things up a lil’?"

The werewolf grinned at her, trying to cover up how bloody nervous he actually felt.

“And also my pack won’t kill ya. Cause you know, technically ya belong to the rival pack, because they’re the ones that bit ya. But also yer all that’s left in that pack, after tonight and…” he paused, cupping her face with his hands, “I'll still court you, 'Turia. I want to. I'll give ya a good life. Swear.”

Arturia’s lips quirked upward for a second, knowing how crazy adamant Cú could be with following promises.

"Alright,” she confirmed, accepting his kiss. “I just...I worry about Arthur."

"So you finally show up, hm? Disappear for a while, why don't you? Doesn't matter whether or not the rival pack comes to—"

Scáthach inhaled, sniffing her grey wolf pup as she circled him. Something had changed about her son, she could feel it.

"There is no rival pack," Cú answered, grinning like a madman. “Only two new additions to ours.”

"What?"

“Last winter, it stormed just like this, didn’t it? No game, not even the smallest of hares. We were considering crossing over to the other side of the mountain, yeah?” Cú asked back, eagerly goading out the she-wolf’s response. Scáthach stared at him intensely, her red eyes glowing in the light of the full moon.

“You came back with sheep—”

The grey wolf nodded its head in a near-human fashion.”They were gifts. From them.”

Cú yipped, calling for the two concealed wolves to come into the den.

One was large and long, with fur as black as the bark of trees. He came out of the woods like a moving shadow, paws of coal shuffling through the snow. Even Scáthach, who was a midnight color herself, thought she was looking straight into a beautiful void.

The second wolf was smaller. She had a pelt of pure shining white, purer even than fresh snowfall. If not for the black nose that nuzzled into their alpha as she came close, she would be completely missable in their landscape of ice.Though of shorter stature, she strode like a king. Scáthach hadn’t a doubt that if this newcomer were born a wolf, she’d be an alpha herself without question.

The two newcomers stared at the she-wolf with matching emerald eyes, each set of orbs sparkling with the colors of the aurora. Siblings. Strong ones. But any wolf could tell these two were not born with beast’s blood like the rest of them, their footsteps were too unnatural. Too clumsy. They were made beasts, and by their scent it had been the doing of the rival pack.

As her son pressed his snout to the white wolf’s nose, several things finally clicked into place. Cú had gone and done what she’d been pestering him to do for the last few months and had eliminated the pack that had been encroaching on their territory in one fell swoop.

Cú had chosen his mate: a human convert who’d inherited their rivals’ land the day she was bitten. A human who they just so happened to owe a great debt for getting them through last year’s winter.

As Cú’s beastly eyes stared her down, Scáthach had to admit... her bratty pup finally had her at a total loss. She couldn’t be mad about anything, couldn’t even nitpick at the tiny size of his chosen queen or her tar-coat brother. Gosh, Fionn was gonna get a lotta kicks outta this.

“Names,” the she-wolf demanded, circling the twins while Cú gave her a shit-eating grin. Then, she turned, looking back just once to signal for them to follow.

Side by side, the new wolves and the alpha made their way into the central den. Arthur was immediately swarmed by Cú’s brothers. Arturia, by Ferdiad’s pups.

Later, when all had settled back into human skin and a fresh change of clothes, Cú looked about his pack. Fergus and Medb had come to visit, with all sorts of food in tow. Diarmuid excitedly showed Arthur around the wolf den while Fionn and Scathach kept to their own corner. Ferdiad and his litter sat right in front of the brick oven, eagerly awaiting the shepherd’s pie the twins had prepared.

The alpha leaned down, resting his cheek atop Arturia’s blonde head.

“We never did get to go on that date,” she whispered lightheartedly, leaning her head onto his chest. “I even had a dress prepared.”

“Mmmmm that so?” Cú shot back, grinning, “I just think since we are “mated” we really ought to get to mating if ya know what I—”

Arturia’s palm snapped onto his lips before he could complete the thought. Suddenly, they were wrestling each other to the floor, the older wolf chuckling like a madman all the while.

“Kidding—ooofghmhm--kidding, Arturia, I’m kidding, jeez,” he managed to get out, placating his blushing mate as he grabbed onto her hands. The Welsh woman panted, from her seat atop him, her green eyes looking everywhere else but into his red orbs.

“Eight tomorrow?” Arturia asked, though she knew full well Cú was coming home with her that day.

Not even caring about the teasing whoops resounding through the wolf den, Cú pulled his mate down for another hug.

“Yeah. I’d like that, shortie.”

#tysm for the ask!#:>#akampana asks #love confession prompts #whew that was a long one #hope you liked it anon #might remake this into a fic on ao3 soon #cutoria #cuturia #arturia pendragon #cu chulainn #artoria pendragon #cu #arturia #artoria #fate #fanfic

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moonflowerlesbians · 4 years

Note

Or #22 for Dani & Jamie please !

Many apologies for this taking a hot minute. I started it to help with writers block and then it gave me more. Whoops. Also included here, prompt #35 from another anon.

This probably isn’t what you had in mind, but not to worry, angst is coming in another prompt.

You can also read this and my other prompt-fills here.

~~~

Drunk Jamie is a sight to behold.

It’s a rare and beautiful thing that Dani is sure to treasure on the infrequent occasions Jamie allows herself to fall and trusts Dani enough to catch her. To see Jamie inebriated is sacred, or, at least, Dani thinks so. Because she is the only one who’s seen Jamie drunk, face flushed and carefree laughter spilling from her lips. She’s vulnerable here, alcohol having eroded the rings of fearsome walls she’s built around her life, trusting Dani to protect her from any threats. She’s softer, more relaxed.

It’s a good look on her, Dani thinks.

They’re in the back room of The Leafling, reclining, legs propped up, on the ratty sofa they found at the second-hand store not three weeks prior. The shop is quiet, the doors locked and the lights shut off. The plants sit in baskets and pots and displays placed perfectly to suit their needs. Empty drink trays decorate the countertop, a problem for tomorrow.

“You did it.” Dani stares at the ceiling, her heart warm. Jamie’s back is pressed comfortably against her front, and Dani twirls a strand of brown hair between her fingers as crickets chirp outside. The world is at peace.

“We did,” Jamie hums. “We bloody did it. Business owners, the both of us.” She barks a laugh and nuzzles her head into Dani’s collarbone.

They’d just concluded a soft opening party for the shop. Small business owners and potential clients had wandered racks of Jamie’s precious plantlings as the woman herself flitted nervously on the outskirts to avoid the shower of compliments. Dani had done most of the talking, offering up hors d’oeuvres and baked goods. As it turned out, despite her hot drink deficiency, she’s a rather decent baker.

“Oh, these are just lovely!” Mrs. Windham from the bookstore down the way, had said, gushing over a bouquet of hydrangeas.

“All Jamie,” Dani had proclaimed proudly.

“Well, she has quite the gift.”

“Doesn’t she?” Jamie had met her eye from across the room, sipping on her second -- or third -- glass of champagne, and offered a small smile.

Dani doesn’t begrudge her the drinks. Jamie has never been much of a people person, and who is Dani to judge if alcohol makes socialising just a bit less nerve-wracking? Besides, a buzzed Jamie is quite endearing, if Dani’s being honest.

This is the part where Dani shines, in any case. Making connections comes naturally to her, or, at least, more naturally than it does for Jamie. Being a teacher, she had to be good at it. She always had a knack for cracking the toughest students, much to the bewilderment of her colleagues.

Half the time, the kid was just lonely. Needed someone to talk to. Dani could relate.

It’s a skill that’s served her well in life and in her relationships.

Jamie stirs, and Dani wrinkles her nose, spluttering as brunette curls invade her mouth.

“Hey, easy there-” she finds herself silenced by a bruising kiss. “Um,” she blinks up at Jamie, who’s looking down at her with a dopey smile, “hello?”

“Why’re you dressed like that?” Jamie drawls.

Dani surveys her outfit, though her investigation lacks scope on account of her incredibly attractive girlfriend straddling her lap. “Um. Does that mean it looks good, or should I change?”

Jamie avoids the question. “I’m rather fond of you, you know.” Her breath smells of cheap champagne.

“It’d be kind of awkward if you weren’t. We’re in pretty deep, you know,” Dani mimics, and Jamie’s faces scrunches in disapproval.

“That was bad. That was bloody awful, Poppins.” Jamie rolls off her to lean against the opposite arm of the chair, and Dani finds herself missing the weight. It’s nice feeling safe enough to have someone so close that even inches of separation are a loss.

“You never answered the question.”

Jamie hums. “You never answered mine.”

“You’re cocky when you’ve been drinking, you know that?”

“And you’re right beautiful all the time.”

Dani pauses mid-retort, her mouth open slightly. Jamie stares at her from across the couch, that damn cheeky smirk on her face.

“Quite alright there, Poppins?” Her voice is just above a whisper, sultry and mischievous. Leaning in, “Look a little flushed.”

“I...you…”

Jamie studies her fingernails. “Out with it, darling. Haven’t got all night.”

“I...I’m fond of you, too.” Dani manages. “Even when you’re lying.”

Jamie feigns outrage, hand coming up to clasp her chest. “Never lied a day in my life. ‘Specially not to my favorite person in the bleedin’ world, who also happens to be the most lovely woman I ever laid eyes on.” She runs her hands up Dani’s calves.

Dani scoffs, gently shoving her off. “‘Never lied’ my backside, but I’ll let it slide just this once, and only because you’re knackered.”

“Am not,” Jamie replies petulantly, then promptly yawns. She freezes. Dani raises an eyebrow. “Christ, betrayed by my own fucking body. Knew I never liked you,” she says to her stomach for no discernable reason. “Gone and ruined my whole plan.”

“Your plan?”

“Meant to woo you.”

“I’m sorry,” Dani laughs, “that was your attempt at being sexy?”

“Oi,” Jamie pouts, “thought I was doing a marvelous job, thank you very much. You’d’ve been properly smitten. Irresistible, I am.”

“Yes, right, of course,” Dani coughs, “consider me thoroughly wooed.”

“Aha! See that, ladies and gents? That’s how it’s done.” She gestures around the empty back room to her invisible audience, which Dani assumes is giving a standing ovation. She joins in, her solo bout of applause echoing too loudly in the space.

“Hey, Casanova. This plan of yours have an endgame?”

Jamie cuts her sweeping bow short. “‘Course. Can’t rile you up with nowhere to go. No fun in that.”

“And your goal was…” Dani prompts, sensing a trend. “To flirt me into bed with you?”

“Forgive me for wanting to romance my business partner to celebrate our smashing success.”

“Business partner, huh? Not sure how the laws work back in England, but here in the States, we have rules against sexual activity in the workplace.”

“Best get out of the workplace then, yeah?” Jamie’s eyes are dark.

“Yeah,” Dani breathes. She has half a mind to pin Jamie to the couch then and there. Not to go any further than, perhaps, a heated make out session. Not with Jamie in this state. But before the thought can fully evolve, Jamie’s face splits into another massive yawn.

Dani sighs affectionately and gets to her feet. “C’mon,” she says, holding out her hand for Jamie to take, “let’s go home.”

Jamie stands, a little shaky at first, but she’s stable as Dani gathers their things. Side by side, they walk the few blocks to their apartment. The night air is cool against Dani’s face, and the chill sobers Jamie enough that her promiscuity seems to settle. By the time they unlock the front door, she’s blinking sleepily at Dani, who guides her into the bathroom and starts the shower.

It’s odd to see Jamie like this, Dani thinks. She’s soft, pliant beneath Dani’s steady hands undressing her. The pensive silence is common enough, but this feels gentle, more open, somehow. The intimacy is of a kind Dani never imagined she would experience, and neither, she assumed, had Jamie. It speaks to the immense chasms they’ve breached on bridges of trust. That they are able to concede control of their bodies with a blanket confidence that they are safe. They are safe, and they are protected.

It’s a bond Dani treasures, and one she hopes will last a lifetime. Two, if she has anything to say about it.

Jamie steps into the shower with a washcloth, and Dani sets about laying a folded pair of flannel pants and an old t-shirt on the bed. When she returns, Jamie wears a towel and an adoring expression. Dani tilts her head, confused.

“Meant what I said earlier. About you being beautiful.” She is deliberately earnest.

It’s difficult to feel beautiful when your body doesn’t feel like your own. When you prepare to look in the mirror each morning and wonder if you’ll recognize yourself. When the face that’s stared back at you your whole life has changed, and a brown eye is a reminder that you aren’t in control. Dani is learning, though. Slowly.

And she knows Jamie wouldn’t lie, especially drunk Jamie. She lacks the capacity to be anything but adorably honest, despite her admirable attempts at seduction.

Unable to put her thoughts into words, Dani cups Jamie’s jaw, brushing away droplets that trickle from damp curls, and kisses her sweetly.

“To bed with you,” Dani says, shooing her into the next room. Jamie manages to steal three more kisses along the way. She tastes of the mint toothpaste she’d used in the shower. “Come on now, PJs are on the bed.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She thinks she hears Jamie murmur, and Dani can’t contain her eye roll. The situation isn’t unlike the bedtime antics of a child, and the mental picture of her grown partner in footie pajamas evokes a chuckle. She tucks that image away for later.

Helping the shirt over Jamie’s head from behind, Dani presses a fleeting kiss to the scar on her shoulder, a silent observance of the vulnerability they’ve cultivated. Jamie had never hidden her burn, choosing instead to spin her tale of woe before the story came up organically. Much, much later, curled in darkness beneath motel sheets, she had whispered her insecurity and given voice to the resulting shame around feeling self-conscious at all.

Dani makes sure to pay special attention to the area during all subsequent explorations, noting each ridge and pockmark like a cartographer charting new terrain.

She peels back a corner of their duvet, allowing Jamie to climb in.

Jamie clings onto her arm, pulling her in as well. “Please don’t leave me,” she frowns.

“I don’t want to go, but, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m still wearing my party outfit.”

“Hard not to notice when you’ve been teasing me with it all evening,” Jamie sighs, a little sad, a little longing.

Dani swats her playfully. “Go to sleep. I’ll be right there.”

“Can’t properly get to sleep without you, now can I?” Jamie grumbles, but rolls over nonetheless.

Evidently, she can.

By the time Dani slips into sleep clothes and finishes brushing her teeth, Jamie’s breathing has evened out. Dani tucks herself in beside her and drapes an arm across Jamie’s hips.

They’ve built this life together, the two of them. They’ve got an apartment and a small business and more plants than they know what to do with. They’ve got postcards stuck to the fridge and a rickety heater and several throw pillows that Jamie claims to hate but cuddles with when Dani isn’t looking. And, sure, the back left stove burner only works half the time, and maybe the lock on the front door seems to hate Dani’s key in particular, but this is their home, and theirs alone.

Not a foster home, not the O’Mara’s, not the Wingraves’.

Theirs.

Dani revels in the thrill of it all. She’s still scared out of her wits, certainly, but, Dani has found, it’s infinitely more difficult to be scared when the person you love most in the world sleeps soundly beside you on sheets you chose together.

She takes in this feeling, savors this comfort for when the clouds next block the sun.

Whatever comes next, she is not alone.

#my painkillers wore off and so did my ability to write apparently #oh well #I hope you like this!#the haunting of bly manor #dani clayton #jamie #dani x jamie #jamie x dani #haunting of bly manor #Bly Manor fanfic #fic #writing #my writing #prompt fill #damie #damie fanfic #fanfic #the haunting of Bly Manor fanfic #bly manor

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loving-inkpressions · 3 years

Text

Love On The Brain [1/2]

Summary: It started with just wanting to break free from her past, then it led her to finding so much more in the arms of a tattoo artist. But will Denali let herself heal and fall completely? And what about Rosé? What does she want?

Warning: Past abuse, gaslighting

Prefer reading it on AO3?

“Fine, leave then! Go ahead and walk out that door! You know that you’ll never find someone who will put up with you and your shit. Who is ever going to love someone like you? You’re useless and pathetic and no one is ever going to love you the way that I do!”

———

Standing outside the brick building, Denali stared at the neon sign that flashed the name of the tattoo parlour, Thorns and Roses. Shifting her weight from one foot to the other, she touched her right earlobe absentmindedly, rubbing the smooth skin there.

She wanted to get her ears pierced, something that she had wanted to do for a while now but could never do so. She wasn’t allowed to. But now that she was finally free, she was finally going to do it. A small little act of rebellion to seize just a little bit of control in her life and take one tiny step towards the vast amount of freedom she now had.

Taking a deep breath, the brunette pushed open the glass door of the tattoo parlour and stepped into the shop, faintly registering the tinkling of a bell overhead.

The shop wasn’t very big, nor was it small either. It seemed just nice, cosy almost. There were pictures, sketches and prints of tattoos of all kinds of designs around her, ranging from pretty and delicate to fierce and bold. There was the rich smell of leather and ink surrounding her and the furnishings matched the scents with a brown leather settee in the corner and bare bulbs hanging from the ceiling. It was fascinating to see, a darker world so different from her own. She had been so distracted by her surroundings that she missed the sound of footsteps and the rustling of fabric as another person stepped into the space.

“Hello there, can I help you?”

She turned around and came face to face with a tall, beautiful woman. Swallowing the gasp that tickled the back of her throat, Denali took in the slightly taller figure of a redhead that was clad in figure hugging jeans that stretched across wide hips and a simple black crop top that was tight against a full chest. Denali could see that the woman was covered in at least half a dozen tattoos adorning the skin of her fingers to her neck and toned stomach.

Snapping out of her daze when she heard the woman clear her throat, Denali blushed at having been caught staring as she spotted the small smirk on the other woman’s face, a brow raised in amusement. Feeling flustered and nervous, Denali stuttered a little. “Hi, I want to get my ears pierced, and was hoping that I could get it done here?”

“Have you been here before?” The woman asked, and Denali shook her head. “No, it’s my first time.” The redhead nodded, and gestured her over to the reception counter. “Alright then, I can set you up.” Nodding, Denali walked over as the woman accessed the terminal at the counter, typing in a few keys. “I’ll just need your name and some details, Miss…?”

“Denali. Denali Foxx.”

“Denali.” The woman repeated, rolling her name in her mouth. “Pretty name.” Denali flushed at her comment as her name was keyed in. The woman hit the print button and retrieved a sheet of paper a few seconds later. “I’ll just need you to fill in this form.” Denali took the form held out to her, ignoring how their fingers brushed against each other and the zing of electricity that shot down her spine. She filled it in, unaware of how the other woman was slowly examining her features with interest in her eyes, and passed it back to her. The redhead scanned it briefly before placing it in a file.

“Great, now if you’ll follow me this way.”

Denali trailed after the woman as she drew the curtains open of one of the doorways in the shop and entered another smaller room. The redhead gestured for her to sit on the black leather chair in the middle as she set about to gather the necessary tools.

“So Denali, is this your first time having your ears pierced?” She asked as she pushed a small trolley over. “Yeah, I’ve never had it done before. Will it hurt?” Chuckling as she arranged the items on the trolley, the woman shook her head. “Not really, just think of it like an ant bite.”

“Right, that’s good to know.” Denali replied, rubbing her slightly sweaty palms against her thighs nervously.

Humming in reply, the woman turned to show Denali an assortment of studs on a small velvet tray. “Now before we do anything, I need you to pick a pair of studs for your ears. You won’t be able to remove them for at least the next two weeks, so be sure to pick something that you’ll like.” Denali looked down at the selection of studs in front of her, hesitating for a second as she looked at them. A familiar voice in her head was whispering to her that they didn’t suit her and would only serve to sully her ears, make her look cheap. That she shouldn’t even go through with this.

The redhead watched Denali as her eyes flickered, noticing how her hands were slowly curling into fists in her lap. Wordlessly, she picked up a silver stud that had a dark blue gem set in it and held it up to Denali’s ear.

“I think the dark blue ones might suit you best. They’d match your pretty brown eyes.”

Blinking back to awareness, Denali looked up to find hazel eyes staring back at her and a gentle hand holding up a stud to her ear, fingers barely brushing her earlobe.

She mentally shook herself.

Right, she was here, and the owner of that voice wasn’t. She was free to make her own choices.

The redhead set the tray down and picked up a mirror from the trolley, holding it up for Denali to see. Looking at her reflection, Denali couldn’t help but agree with her. The dark blue gem looked good against her eyes and tanned skin. She looked back at the tattoo artist and smiled gratefully.

“Yeah, it looks good.”

The woman smiled back at her, setting the mirror and stud aside. She prepared the piercing gun and pulled on a pair of gloves while Denali quickly threw her dark brown hair into a messy bun so that it would be out of the way. Once ready, the woman leaned close to Denali, their faces inches apart as gloved fingers carefully touched Denali’s right earlobe, and the younger girl had to force herself not to shiver at the light touch.

“Rosé.”

“Wha-”

Denali yelped as the needle sunk into her ear. The woman smirked, tapping the shell of her now pierced ear. “Rosé, that’s my name.” The brunette winced as she gingerly touched the edge of her earlobe. “Well Rosé, you said that it wouldn’t hurt.” The redhead chuckled a little as she prepped the gun for the next ear. “I said that it wouldn’t really hurt, but I guess now I know what your pain threshold is, princess.” Rosé teased, winking at Denali. The other girl’s brows raised, surprised at the casual way that the tattoo artist had just called her princess.

Before she could react, she yelped again when she felt her other earlobe being pierced.

“All done.”

Rosé set the gun down and held the mirror up to Denali. Pouting just a little, the younger girl peered at her reflection, turning her head from side to side as she looked at the dark blue studs that now glinted in her ears. A wide smile stretched across her lips, a small sense of victory settling in her chest. “They’re perfect.” She whispered and Rosé smiled back at her, setting the mirror back down on the trolley.

Removing her gloves, Rosé looked at the other girl as she raised a hand to touch the studs inquisitively. Catching her wrist in her now ungloved hand, Rosé tutted. “Careful baby, they’re still fresh. You wouldn’t want to hurt yourself, would you?” Caught up in the feel of the older woman’s touch, Denali stammered out. “Oh, right. I’ll be careful.” Rosé stared back down at the seated girl, taken in by how Denali’s wide brown eyes seemed so innocent and how there was a light dusting of pink across her cheeks. The redhead let go of her wrist after a while, and Denali let her hand fall into her lap, trying to ignore how the feel of Rosé’s touch still lingered on her skin.

“Have you ever thought about getting inked? Your skin is the perfect canvas to be marked.” Rosé asked, eyes tracing the exposed skin of her arms and legs. “If you want, I can do it for you, and I promise to be gentle.” She winked, and Denali felt her face heat up, trying to convince herself that what Rosé was saying was innocent, with no other implications tied to her words. After all, they had just met, and it was probably all just business to the tattoo artist.

But there was something about Rosé that seemed to draw Denali in, and she found herself wanting to feel those fingers on her again.

“I’ll think about it.” She found herself carelessly promising, and the redhead smiled, making Denali smile shyly back at her.

“I’ll hold you to it then, princess.”

———

Denali found herself unable to stop thinking about the tattoo artist for days. It was strange how such a short encounter could leave such an impression on her. She found herself recalling the transient touches between them, how close the other woman had been when she was piercing her ear, her fingers on her wrist, the intoxicating scent of ink blending with the musk of her perfume. She thought about those little moments so often that they’d invaded her dreams at night.

The brunette had never really thought about getting a tattoo before. There had been fleeting moments of consideration, the thought of wanting to have something meaningful marked on her skin, but every time she had sat down to seriously consider it, that voice in her head had shut her down with criticisms. But that was then, and again that small little rebellious spirit that had been ignited in her was sparking, and Denali had begun to examine her body after showers to decide where she could have herself inked.

It wasn’t too long before the brunette found herself back at the tattoo parlour again, pushing open the glass door and finding herself face to face once more with the tattoo artist that had been gracing her dreams at night. Rosé looked up at her from behind the counter, her thick red curls piled messily atop her head and a sketchbook propped open in front of her. Her eyes met Denali’s and a smirk stretched across her lips.

“Back for more, princess?”

Denali swallowed and smiled tentatively, still second guessing her decision. “I was thinking about maybe getting a tattoo? Not a big one. I’m not too sure about where though. Maybe on my stomach or my thigh?” Rosé watched as Denali squirmed nervously in front of her, before closing her sketchbook and picking it up. She walked over to one of the rooms in the shop and pulled open the curtains.

“Right this way then.”

Looking into the other room, Denali walked through the doorway, aware of the eyes on her figure as she brushed past the redhead that stood in the doorway with a slight shiver. Denali heard the rustle of fabric and the sound of a door closing, and was led to a desk that sat in the corner of the room. She sat in the chair that Rosé pulled out for her and the other woman sat across from her, opening her sketchbook to a new page and retrieving a pencil from the stationary cup on the desk.

“So what do you have in mind?”

“I was thinking of maybe having a watercolour tattoo of sorts with forget me not flowers and a snowflake, if that makes sense?” Denali tried to verbalise the idea and symbols in her head. When she saw the slight look of confusion on Rosé’s face, she quickly pulled her phone out of her pocket and showed her some references. Pictures of some watercolour tattoos she’d come across on Pinterest, images of blue forget me nots and delicate snowflakes.

“May I?” Rosé asked, extending her hand out and Denali nodded, handing her phone over to the tattoo artist. Rosé tilted her head as she looked through the pictures Denali had shown her, a small crease between her brows as she examined the pictures. After a while, she handed the phone back to Denali with a quick thank you and began sketching out a design, her hand working nimbly as her pencil started sketching her vision to life.

The room was silent, except for the sound of graphite on paper as Rosé sketched. Denali sat, watching in awe as a delicate design of flowers and snow was quickly outlined.

“So why a snowflake and this flower in particular?” Rosé asked, intrigued, but her pencil never stopped moving.

“Oh, erm, I was actually originally from Alaska before moving here, hence the flower, and I’ve been ice skating all my life.” Denali replied, pushing an errant brown curl back into place as she carried on watching Rosé’s hands as they worked.

“So you’re a figure skater?”

“Yup.” Denali replied with a pop. “I still go for competitions every now and then, though most of my days are now spent at the rink teaching a new generation of kids interested in figure skating. It’s nice seeing the determination and progress of young children. It’s really precious.”

Rosé’s strokes paused for a moment and she looked up, smiling softly when she saw the dreamy faraway look in Denali’s eyes, as if she was at the rink. “So I was right then, you really are a princess. A pretty ice princess.”

Denali snapped out of her daze, blushing at the combination of a compliment and nickname for her from the redhead. She giggled shyly, scratching the back of her neck. “I guess you could say that?”

Rosé chuckled, enjoying how the younger girl seemed bashful under her gaze, before resuming her work on the design. “If that’s the case, then I’ll be sure to make this the prettiest design for the prettiest girl that’s ever entered my shop.”

Denali had to bite back her grin at that, knowing that if she didn’t, she’d be grinning like an idiot at Rosé’s words.

Minutes later, Rosé set her pencil down, the sketch complete. “What do you think?” She asked, holding up the design and Denali’s mouth fell open. The design comprised of a watercolour outline in the shape of a snowflake and a branch of forget me nots sprouting in the middle.

“It’s beautiful!” Denali gasped, reaching out to touch the paper with her fingertips. Rosé smiled, pleased that Denali liked it. “I’m glad that you like it princess. Have you decided where you want it inked yet?”

“Yeah, sort of. I think I’d like to have it on my thigh, but I’m not too sure if I should do it on the outer thigh closer to my hip, or-” She cleared her throat, a little embarrassed. “Maybe my inner thigh? Somewhere a little more discreet and easier to hide.” Rosé smirked, setting her sketchbook down. “I see. Do you want my opinion?”

“Yes, please.”

“Such a polite princess you are.” Rosé chuckled, causing Denali to sputter just a bit. “Well, I think you should get it on your inner thigh. You mentioned that you teach and still skate competitively, right? Then it might be best to have it there. It can also be like a little secret for yourself, and for me too since I’ll be the one inking you.” The redhead winked, and Denali giggled. She liked that idea, the thought of having a little secret to herself and Rosé by extension. It was nice.

“I like it, I think I’ll go with that.”

Rosé smiled at her and stood. “Right, then I’ll go prepare the stencil and equipment.” She looked over Denali, a glint in her eye. “I see that you’re already dressed for the occasion with those little shorts of yours, so you can just get yourself comfortable over there.” Rosé pointed at the large black reclining seat in the middle of the room and she moved to leave. Denali stared after the redhead as she opened the door and exited the room, then back at the seat, swallowing thickly.

Somehow, it looked a little intimidating in more ways than one, and Denali couldn’t help the less than innocent thoughts that started running through her mind.

“Don’t be an idiot, look at yourself in the mirror. What makes you think she even finds you attractive?”

Frowning at the poisonous whispers in her mind again, she mentally stamped it out and hopped onto the chair, settling down. She took deep and calming breaths to try and push the voice out of her head and the little bit of anxiety she could feel bubbling in her chest.

After some time, Rosé came back, pushing a trolley of tools and a stencil in her gloved hands.

“Ready, princess?”

Denali nodded as Rosé pulled up next to her. Grabbing a stool nearby, she drew it close to her and sat on it. “So Denali, I’ll need you to show me where you want your tattoo so that I can prep the area and lay out the stencil.” Realising what she had to do, Denali gulped and parted her legs, avoiding looking at Rosé as she did so, completely missing how the other woman’s eyes darkened. “Here.” She pointed to the middle of her right inner thigh.

Rosé grabbed the bottle of disinfectant, pouring some onto a cloth. Looking back at the blushing brunette, Rosé traced the spot where Denli had indicated with her index finger, revelling in the sharp intake of breath she heard.

“Here?”

Denali looked at Rosé and nodded, not trusting herself to speak, especially not when she saw how the redhead was looking back at her.

Pulling her finger away, Rosé set about to clean the surface of the skin, chuckling when Denali jumped at the cool touch of the disinfectant. Once Rosé was satisfied with how clean her skin was, she squeezed out an adequate amount of stencil primer, rubbing it between her palms to warm it up before spreading it across Denali’s skin.

Rosé noticed the slight tremble of Denali’s legs and smirked, resisting the wild urge she had to pin the brunette down. Instead she kept it professional and once the surface was primed and ready, took the stencil and pressed it onto Denali’s thigh. Carefully patting it down, she left it on for a few seconds, then peeled the paper off, leaving behind a bright blue outline of the tattoo.

“There you go, princess. The first sneak peak of how your tattoo will look.”

Sitting up to take a better look, Denali gasped, touching the skin around the outline. She flashed a brilliant smile at Rosé, dimples out in full force. Rosé couldn’t stop staring at the smile and the dimples on Denali’s face. The girl in front of her was so beautiful. There was a certain fragility to her that made Rosé want to be careful with her, but at the same time want to pin her down and ruin her, just to see her begging under-

Blinking back to reality, Rosé smiled back at the brunette, quickly turning away to prepare the necessary equipment and to reign in any further indecent thoughts she had towards Denali.

“Alright baby, let’s bring your vision to life.”

———

The three inch wide tattoo took just a little over three hours to complete, and by the time Rosé was done, Denali was pretty sure the area around the tattoo was numb from the pain. Rosé had been patient and detailed throughout the process, sometimes even tenderly brushing the skin surrounding the design to soothe Denali. Despite the pain, it had been a pleasant experience with Rosé managing to chat with her intermittently as she worked, and Denali found herself warming up even more to the tattoo artist.

When it was complete, Denali had sat up and beamed, taking in the full coloured beauty of the design. Rosé had added some flourishes along the way with tiny flecks of snow, and the colours she used were those of the aurora borealis. Resisting the urge to touch the tattoo, she instead threw her arms around Rosé’s neck.

“I love it. Thank you so much, Rosé!”

A little startled, Rosé took a second to process the weight of Denali before hugging her back, patting the back of her head as she chuckled.

“You’re welcome, princess.”

Pulling away and completely oblivious to the effect she had on the redhead, Denali moved to get off the seat, eager to finally get out of the black chair, but was stopped by Rosé’s hand on her knee. “Slow down baby, I need to dress the tattoo first before you can move. You don’t want to accidentally mess it up or hurt yourself, do you?”

Moments later, Denali had her tattoo dressed with a protective film and was making her payment at the counter. It stung a little to walk, but she didn’t mind. Printing out the receipt, Rosé tore it from for the printer and passed it to Denali. She hesitated for a second, before opening a box at the counter. Pulling out a business card, Rosé wrote down her number and held it out to Denali.

“Listen, I don’t normally do this, but do you maybe want to go out for coffee some time?” Rosé asked, leaning against the counter. “There’s just something about you, and I’d really like to get to know you more.”

Denali bit her lower lip as she took the card from Rosé. She hadn’t really expected Rosé to ask her out. She knew that she was attracted to the other woman, and it was true that there was some sort of spark between them, but she hadn’t expected anything to happen. Denali wasn’t even sure if she was ready, not after the mess that had been her last relationship with-

“Okay.” Denali blurted out, surprised at her own hasty response. Rosé’s face lit up, not really expecting Denali to reply positively. “Really?”

Pushing the thought of her last relationship to the back of her mind and that niggling voice, Denali nodded, fingers twisting a little at the hem of her top as she smiled.

“Yeah, I’d love to.”

———

“I’m sorry sweetheart, you know that I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I’m only trying to help you. But Denali, you know you have to stop dreaming, right? What’s the point of trying when you keep failing? You’re only delaying the inevitable.”

———

For the next few weeks, Rosé and Denali had gone on a few dates and gotten closer.

Rosé learned about how Denali had grown up in Alaska, about how her dreams soon outgrew the little town that she lived in, and how she moved to New York to pursue her goal of being a professional figure skater. Denali had even mentioned that she had come close to making it to the olympics. She had tried multiple times, but had always just fallen short of meeting the points to be qualified. When she had spoken about it, Rosé had noticed her voice catching, as if remembering something before smiling and changing the topic.

It was something that seemed to happen often when they were together, like Denali was holding herself back. It was as if she was afraid of saying the wrong thing, but Rosé never pushed her about it. Instead, she just listened patiently, willing to wait for the brunette because there was something inside of Rosé telling her that Denali was worth waiting for.

That Denali was worth it.

———

Denali bit into her slice of pepperoni pizza as she sat cross legged on her couch, watching a movie that Friday night with Rosé.

It was a quiet night in for the two of them, something that Denali really appreciated. Fridays were normally hectic with the number of classes she had to teach, and it was especially so with how one of the other teachers had called in sick, and she needed to cover for them. By the time she had gotten home, she had felt too tired for the date that she had planned with Rosé. When Denali had texted the other girl, she had been a little worried that Rosé would be unhappy with her. She knew it was dumb because Rosé had been nothing but sweet during their times together, but she wanted to be careful.

She knew through experience how sweet things could turn sour in no time.

When Rosé texted back minutes later, Denali was relieved when she had assured her that it was alright, and instead offered to bring over pizza for the two of them and make a movie night out of it.

Now here they sat watching The Mask together, a movie that Rosé had mentioned was one of her all time favourites. Denali had cracked up when Rosé had insisted that Cameron Diaz’s character had been one of the things that had made her realise how she preferred girls to boys when she was younger.

Finishing off her slice of pizza, she went to wash her hands in the kitchen and settled back on the couch, this time taking the initiative to sit closer to Rosé, leaning against the redhead. Rosé, having already finished eating a while ago, wrapped an arm around Denali’s waist and pulled her closer, letting the other girl relax against her side.

It felt nice, sharing their warmth together and just being cozy and comfortable, tucked away in the privacy of Denali’s home. Rosé’s fingers traced random patterns on the exposed skin of Denali’s waist before falling to her hip and resting there. The redhead looked down at Denali, taking in her features, how she was so soft and trusting with her, and in that moment, Rosé couldn’t help but press a kiss to Denali’s temple. Looking up in surprise, Denali connected her eyes with Rosé, feeling the temperature in the room rise when her brown eyes met hazel. She felt Rosé’s fingers touch her cheek, tracing the curve of her cheekbone and jaw, then looping back to the stud in her earlobe. Rosé leaned forward and placed a soft kiss to Denali’s ear. She pulled away, marvelling at how Denali’s blush spread from her cheeks to her ears.

Dropping another kiss to Denali’s other ear, Rosé pulled her onto her lap, one of her hands reaching down to caress the sensitive skin of the brunette’s inner thigh, tracing the lines of the tattoo there and causing Denali’s breath to hitch. Her fingers slowly drifted closer to the apex of her thighs, teasing the hem of Denali’s shorts, before Rosé stopped herself, pulling her hand away. Instead, she leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together and cupped Denali’s cheeks. Rosé kissed the tip of the brunette’s nose, then pulled away slightly, looking deep into Denali’s eyes.

“Tell me if this is okay. You don’t have to say yes, you can say no. Tell me what you want, tell me what makes you uncomfortable, tell me if this is alright with you, and whatever you say, I will listen. Anything at all, Denali. Whatever you want, princess.”

Denali stared back at Rosé, her heart racing a million miles an hour as she felt the feelings she had been burying deep inside, feelings she had been denying slowly start to surface. She wanted it, god did she want to, but she was scared. Part of her was afraid about how intensely she was starting to feel for Rosé, anxious about how real her feelings were, that she could possibly be clinging onto Rosé because of how affectionate and caring the other woman was. Every night that cruel voice would whisper to her how she wasn’t worthy of the attention that Rosé had been showering her with, but in this moment, that voice was quiet.

It was just Denali and Rosé.

Lower lip trembling and eyes flickering as she struggled internally, Denali finally threw caution to the wind and wrapped her arms around Rosé’s neck.

“Please, Rosie.”

Rosé swallowed at the nickname, a nickname that Denali had never used before.

“Please what, princess? You need to tell me what you want.”

Blushing harder, Denali buried her face into the crook of Rosé’s neck.

“Please touch me.” She whispered.

And that was all Rosé needed to hear.

———

Rosé had Denali on her bed, caressing every bit of exposed skin she could reach after tugging off her tank top and shorts, leaving her in her bra and panties. Rosé knew that Denali was beautiful, but when she was stripped of almost all her clothes, the brunette was breathtaking. Her figure was immaculate, arms, legs and stomach lightly toned. Her skin was smooth and tan, and not a single blemish was on her, except for the ink on her right thigh. The tattoo that Rosé had designed and inked into her skin.

Bending down, Rosé kissed the middle of the tattoo causing Denali to gasp, and she smiled, tracing the dark lines with her tongue. Kissing her way to Denali’s clothed core, she stopped and nosed the damp patch there, taking in the intoxicating scent that was purely Denali.

“Wait.”

Rosé froze, then felt a gentle hand on her cheek as Denali sat up. “I’m sorry, do you want me to-“

“No no, Rosie, it’s just that I’m lying here in my underwear and you’re still in your clothes. It’s not really fair, is it?” Denali giggled, tugging at Rosé’s shirt. Rosé chuckled in relief, before raising her arms up as Denali pulled her shirt off. Lifting her hips when Denali moved to tug her jeans off, Rosé helped her wriggle out of them and tossed it to the floor with the rest of their clothes.

The two girls sat on the bed, both in their underwear, both staring at each other’s forms. Denali made the first move, reaching around the redhead and unclasped her bra and tossed it aside. Staring at Rosé’s breasts, she reached out to touch them, but hesitated. Rosé saw her hesitation and took her hands, pressing Denali’s palms to her chest. “It’s alright, Denali. You can touch them.”

Denali bit her lip, then cupped her hands, carefully caressing them before running her thumbs over Rosé’s nipples, eliciting a gasp from the redhead. Leaning forward, she pressed a tentative kiss to the middle of Rosé’s chest before pushing her down, straddling her. Smiling shyly down at the redhead, Denali peppered Rosé’s chest with kisses, before sucking a bruise next to her right nipple, savouring the whine that Rosé let out when she did. Pulling away, she looked down at Rosé, a small little smirk of her own teasing her lips.

“Do you want to touch me, Rosie?”

Rosé looked back at Denali, taking in her blown pupils, her dark brown hair falling in waves and how the moonlight made her almost glow. She nodded, her hands itching to touch Denali again.

Smiling, Denali unclasped her own bra, and threw it aside. Mirroring what Rosé had done, she took the other girl’s hands and placed them on her breasts, moaning when Rosé lightly squeezed them.

It was the moan that caused Rosé to snap. She moved her hands to Denali’s waist and rolled them over, the redhead now towering over Denali, eyes hooded and dark with desire.

Leaning down, Rosé drew Denali’s right nipple into her mouth and swirled her tongue around it, causing Denali to gasp. Wanting to pull more reactions out of her, Rosé repeated the same thing to Denali’s other nipple, then began to nip and kiss a trail down her abdomen. Reaching the waistband of her panties, Rosé looked up, locking eyes with Denali. Without looking away, she hooked her fingers at the waistband and pull her panties off her. With nothing left between Rosé and Denali’s core, she pushed the brunette’s trembling thighs apart and lightly traced the wet folds with her finger, fingertip wet with Denali’s slick when she pulled it away.

“Just look how wet you are, princess. I guess I’ll need to do something about it, hmmm?”

———

The next morning, Denali had woken up to being held to Rosé’s chest, her muscles thrumming with a pleasant soreness and her body warmed by a combination of Rosé’s warmth and the morning sun.

Rosé had ravished Denali through the night. The woman that was usually gentle and sweet to Denali was very different in bed, and Denali liked it.

She liked it when Rosé pushed her down, and fingered her, edging her till she saw stars. She liked it when she pinned her wrists above her head and sucked a constellation of marks all across her chest. She especially liked it when Rosé kissed and tongued her core until she was a sobbing mess of incoherent words.

Lying sleepily in Rosé’s arms, Denali found herself examining the other girl’s face. She saw the faint laugh lines and light spray of freckles across her nose, how her lips looked soft and pink in the sunlight filtering through the blinds. Rosé had always called her beautiful, but honestly Denali thought that Rosé was even more beautiful. No, she was gorgeous.

How did she get so lucky and find someone like Rosé?

Denali couldn’t help the smile that spread across her lips, and she ducked her head under Rosé’s chin, snuggling into the other woman’s embrace. She let herself drift back to sleep, at peace for the first time in months.

———

Once they started the physical aspect of whatever it was between them, it was like they couldn’t stop.

What she had with Rosé was completely different from what she had experienced with anyone else. There was something raw between them, the biting promise of sinful pleasure buried beneath layers of desire and longing. The other girl drew something out of Denali, something wild and primal, and she loved it. She knew that Rosé loved to wreck her, see her come undone under her tattooed fingers, make Denali gasp and whine and shudder and cry out in pleasure. Rosé had said as much, loving to see the pretty ice princess become not so pretty and begging for more under her, kissing tears of desperation from her cheeks, holding her down by the wrists, leaving bruises on her hips and thighs, marking up Denali’s skin.

She always loved to leave her mark on Denali, be it bruises from how tightly Rosé would grip the brunette with her fingers or biting and sucking on her smooth skin till bruises bloomed. They were always in intimate areas where no one else could see, her hips, inner thighs, her breasts, along her ribs, between her shoulder blades, places that were easy to hide but would always be on display once Rosé stripped Denali bare. The boldest places Rosé had left her mark on Denali were behind her ears and at the back of her neck, and those were followed by filthy whispers of how it was their dirty little secret between them that the world would be teased with.

Despite the weighted touches and the pleasure shared between the two, there was something light in it too, and though Rosé could be a little rough and slightly domineering at times, there was also a gentleness to her touches. It was a juxtaposition that both enticed and scared Denali.

But even though Rosé had explored almost every inch of her body, her fingers having mapped out almost every crevice, Denali was always careful not to ever let their lips meet. That was the one rule that Denali had and Rosé followed without question. There were kisses of course, just never on the mouth. Denali was precious about it, wanting to keep just one part of her to herself, and guard the one point of connection which she kept for someone that she knew she loved and who loved her in return. Someone she was willing to give her whole heart to. And that person right now was not Rosé.

Not yet at least.

———

“Denali, you know that no one would ever be able to see you the way that I do, or have the same amount of patience as me to put up with you and your way of life. Think about it, is there anyone out there who would really love someone like you?”

———

“Rosie, what are you doing here?”

Denali skated to the edge of the ice, surprised to see the redhead at the rink. It was Saturday afternoon and after Denali had wrapped up her last class of the day. Usually she’d take this time to practice her own moves and refine her routines, and normally Rosé wouldn’t encroach on her during this time. Not that Denali would have minded if she did anyways because she liked spending time with the redhead.

“Hello to you too, princess.” Rosé said as she leaned over the divider to drop a kiss on Denali’s cheek in greeting. “I just wanted to drop by and watch you skate, I hope you don’t mind?”

Feeling her heart skip a beat, Denali grinned. “Of course I don’t, Rosie. Why don’t you sit over there in the bleachers? I was going to go through this song that someone’s commissioned me to choreograph.”

Kissing Rosé on the cheek in return and shooing her off, Denali skated to speak to someone at the side while Rosé got comfortable on the bleachers. Minutes later, a smooth jazz song was playing over the speakers and Denali flawlessly glided across the ice as she went through the routine that she had been working on. Every spin, every turn and every leap was flawless, and Rosé couldn’t help but watch in absolute awe. She had always known that Denali was an amazing skater from the videos she had seen on the girl’s Instagram, but to see it in real life before her eyes was a whole other experience.

When Denali was done, Rosé couldn’t help but stand and clap proudly for her. The brunette grinned bashfully and skated back to Rosé, her face flushed from skating and a glow was evident around her, hugging the redhead once she reached her. Rosé hugged her back, her heart feeling full just from watching Denali express herself on the ice and just be who she was.

This was the woman that Rosé knew that she was slowly, but surely, falling for.

That night, Rosé brought Denali home and took her time with her, kissing and touching every part of her that she could. She held the other girl as she gasped and whined in Rosé’s arms through her release and later they curled up together in her bed, their bodies covered by a white sheet. Admiring the brunette lying next to her, Rosé brushed the stray locks away from Denali’s face and noticed for the first time that she was still wearing the same dark blue studs from when she had first gotten her ears pierced.

“It’s been almost three months since you got your ears pierced, aren’t you going to replace these studs?” Rosé asked as she traced the shell of her ear. Denali shivered at the light touch, eyes fluttering at the slightly ticklish sensation.

“I’m not sure what to get, and I like these studs.” Denali replied. “Why? Do they- Do they look weird on me?” She opened her eyes and touched one of them, suddenly self conscious of them. Rosé picked up on her insecurity and immediately shook her head, catching Denali’s hand and tangling their fingers together. “No princess, not at all. If that’s what you want to wear, then you should wear them. I’m just curious, that’s all.” She smiled, then kissed the back of Denali’s hand in reassurance before letting it go.

“Oh, okay.” Denali whispered, curling her hands back to her chest with a small smile, feeling a tiny sense of relief at the other girl’s words. Rosé chuckled and poked Denali playfully in the cheek. “And here I thought you were keeping them on because I picked them out for you.” She joked.

Denali stilled. She hadn’t wanted to admit it, not even to herself, but that had been the exact reason why she hadn’t replaced them yet. It reminded her of Rosé, like a little piece to remind her that she was now in control of her own life and that there was someone there with her, even though it wasn’t in the strictest and most platonic or romantic sense.

A grin spread across Rosé’s face when she saw the look on Denali’s face, realising she had hit the nail on the head, a warmth settling in her belly. Before the brunette could start to overthink, Rosé’s hands distracted her when she slid her fingers back between Denali's folds and had her wet and whimpering again in no time.

The next night that they spent together, Rosé had a pair of diamond snowflake earrings set on the bedside table for Denali to wear.

———

It had been about four months since Denali and Rosé had been seeing each other. They hadn’t put a label on whatever it was that was between them, though it was clear that the both of them were exclusively seeing each other and no one else. The more time that they spent together, the more Denali realised she was falling hard for the tattoo artist. But while she longed to let herself fall completely, she was afraid.

What if Rosé didn’t feel the same way and was just here for the fun and pleasure of it? What if she was just toying with Denali? What if she dumped her the moment Denali admitted that she was developing feelings for her?

What if Samantha was right and that there was no one out there that would love her? That the blossoming feelings she had were futile? That the seeds blooming in her chest would only produce thorns that would tear her heart to shreds if she let it flower, and then where would that leave her? Broken and crying and alone once more.

———

Denali panted, coming down from her high as she felt Rosé gently lay one last kiss between her legs and slowly kiss her way up her body. Hovering over Denali, she looked down at her, her hazel eyes gazing into Denali’s brown ones, arms braced on either side of her. Her eyes flitted from the her eyes to her lips before Rosé slowly descended, her intent on wanting to kiss her on the lips clear, and Denali was suddenly gripped with panic. Shaking her head, she pushed the older girl away with a cry. “No!” Startled by the other girl’s sudden outburst, Rosé rolled to the side.

There was a beat of silence before Rosé sat up, looking down at a shaking Denali.

“Denali?”

As if snapping out of a stupor, Denali began to move, scrambling to get off the bed. “I’m so sorry, Rosé. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-“ Catching hold of the trembling girl’s hands, Rosé moved to calm her down. “Denali, you didn’t hurt me. Look at me princess, I’m fine. I’m alright.” She reassured her, rubbing soothing circles onto the back of hand. It broke her heart to see the girl that she cared for so deeply so frightened of something she could not see.

Once Denali had calmed down, Rosé cupped her face between her hands, stroking the other girl’s cheek with her thumb.

“Denali, what happened? Who hurt you and left you feeling this way?” Rosé asked. Denali swallowed and turned away from her, not wanting to let the older girl see her so vulnerable. She didn’t want to tell Rosé anything, too ashamed to admit that she was broken, too afraid to tell her something that she had not told anyone else before.

“Princess?”

Letting out a shuddering sigh, Denali fought herself internally for a moment before finally letting out a sigh.

“Her name is Samantha.”

“Hey there, I noticed you from across the room and was wondering if you’d like to maybe get a coffee with me?”

“I was with her for about four years. At first, it was great. I loved her, and she loved me, and everything was perfect. She was perfect, and she said that I was her perfect girl.”

“Look at how pretty you are, love. I must be the luckiest woman in the world to date someone as beautiful and talented as you are! My perfect girl.”

“But over time, things started to change. She started to change. Or maybe she was always like that, and just didn’t show it. I don’t know.”

“Maybe you should stop wearing that top. It looks kind of cheap. We can go get you a new one when we go out tomorrow!”

“It started off small, little suggestions here and there. They seemed innocent enough and well intentioned, so I never questioned it.”

“Denali, you need to be a bit more careful about what you eat. You need to stay healthy if you want to carry on skating and competing. You don’t want to outgrow your costumes, right? They aren’t exactly cheap.”

“But then she started to say things that hurt, and then she’d justify herself with logic and the things she said made sense, so I just believed her.

“Maybe it’s time to give up on figure skating. I’m not saying you’re terrible, love. You’re great, but it’s been years of trying and you haven’t really gotten anywhere. You can’t be skating all your life, eventually you’ll need to stop and find a real job. I will always support you, Denali, but I won’t always be around. I’m just worried for you.”

“And then I started questioning myself, whether there was something wrong with me. You have to understand that Samantha was the woman I loved. I really did love her and she loved me, or at least she said that she loved me.”

“I love you so much, sweetheart. I just want what’s best for you. For us.”

“But then it started getting too much. I started questioning myself, questioning everything I did. Everything I did, I would think of her, whether what I was doing was right or wrong, and they weren’t even by my standards, but hers. After a while, I realised that I was alone with no one else because she had somehow convinced me that my friends didn’t have my best interests at heart, and that she loved me and only wanted what was best for me.”

“They’re talking about us behind our backs, Denali. They don’t want us to be together.”

“And then one day, I just couldn’t take it anymore, and so I left. It was so hard. She said the meanest, the most foulest things, she made me feel like I couldn’t do anything without her, and that I was worthless and wouldn’t ever amount to anything. That there wouldn’t be anyone else who would love me for me.”

“It was a struggle. For a while, I couldn’t get myself to leave my apartment after I left her. She kept texting and calling me, leaving me voicemails. And at first, I was stupid enough to listen to them.”

“Denali, I love you so much sweetheart. All I’ve ever wanted was what’s best for us. Please come back to me. I won’t hurt you anymore.”

“But then I finally woke up one day, and decided that enough was enough. I deleted her number and blocked her completely. I wrote down all the things she always told me not to do, and I started to do them. One of the things that I eventually got to strike off the list was to get my ears pierced. That’s when I met you.”

“You’ll never find someone who will love and care for you as much as I do. Who will love you enough to tell you when you’ve fucked up?”

“You know, I used to go to sleep with her voice in my head telling me all the mistakes that I made, all the ways that I’ve screwed up. I would always second guess myself and my decisions, thinking that maybe I really was dumb and making the wrong choices. It’s not as bad as it was before, but every now and then, I still second guess myself and wonder if maybe she was right.”

By the time she was done, Denali had her hands curled into fists, her nails biting into her palms. She barely noticed the pain she was unknowingly inflicting onto herself until Rosé gently took her hands and uncurled her fingers. She looked up at the redhead, her vision blurred by unshed tears and she blinked, letting them fall. Rosé reached out to wipe them away, then kissed her palms, pressing her lips against the indentations there. Pulling her close, Rosé held Denali to her, not wanting to push her anymore, comforting her with soft touches to her back and soothing whispers in her ear.

After hearing it all, all she wanted to do was to comfort Denali and reassure her, and all the while there was a burning rage for the person that had broken the crying girl in her arms.

———

“Eventually they’ll get sick of you, they’ll see how ugly you really are and then you’ll come crawling back to me, begging for me to love you again.”

———

“I got you something.”

Rosé looked at Denali, surprise painted on her face. “You did?” The brunette nodded, and pulled out a package, handing it to Rosé. “I came across a shop and saw this, and I thought that maybe you’d like it. It’s not a pair of diamond earrings, but I’d like to think it’s something you can use.”

Rosé took the package from Denali, turning it over in her hands, feeling touched at the gesture and the thought that Denali had been thinking of her. “You didn’t have to, Denali. I got you the diamond earrings not so that I would get something in return.”

“I know, but I just- I wanted to. I wanted to get this for you.” Denali replied. She poked the package in Rosé’s hands. “Now enough mushy talk and open it.” She giggled.

Rosé rolled her eyes with a smile and carefully started to peel back the wrapping paper as Denali practically buzzed from excitement. When she finally had the present unwrapped, she stared at it in awe.

It was a gorgeous leather bound sketchbook. Rosé ran her fingers over the thick spine, touching the smooth brown leather, feeling the buttery soft texture beneath her fingertips. The bookbinding was hand sewn, and at the bottom right hand corner of the cover her name had been stitched in gold. She opened it and ran a finger down the paper, then felt it between her fingers. It was the perfect thickness and texture, similar to the ones in her own sketchbooks, but definitely of better quality. Rosé flipped the front page and saw Denali’s familiar cursive handwriting.

“For you to capture the beauty of your imagination.”

She read aloud, then looked at Denali, who was looking away, cheeks pink and fingers twisting together nervously. There was a tug in Rosé’s heart and she set the book down carefully as she pulled the brunette to her. Tilting Denali’s chin so that she was looking at her then sliding their hands together, Rosé smiled and kissed her on the cheek.

“Thank you, princess.”

———

Denali woke up in the morning to find Rosé already awake still next to her, propped up against the headboard, hand moving deftly across her new sketchbook. Blinking awake, Denali watched as Rosé sketched, seemingly unaware of the eyes watching her. Her face was calm, just a tiny wrinkle of concentration between her brows and a small smile on her lips. Denali loved moments like this, when she would wake up next to Rosé on quiet mornings and find her sketching. Sometimes they’d be new tattoo ideas she was randomly inspired by or just little bits of every day life. Morning soft Rosé was something that Denali kept locked in her heart, a snapshot stored in the recesses of her mind amongst the other images she had of her.

The woman in question smiled wider then stopped her sketching. Turning to face the younger girl, Rosé pressed a kiss to the corner of Denali’s mouth in greeting. “Good morning, princess.” Denali smiled and sat up, snuggling into Rosé’s side. “Good morning, Rosie. What are you drawing this-“ Denali stopped mid question and found an image of her in graphite looking back at her. On paper, Rosé had sketched out an image of Denali asleep, tendrils of dark hair falling around her face, framing it, lashes casting soft shadows on her cheeks and plush lips slightly parted.

“It’s you.”

Denali looked up, breath caught in her throat as she found herself drowning in pools of warm hazel, and she knew then how deeply her feelings ran.

And she was scared.

———

I know that I said it was only going to be one chapter, but I am honestly on the fence on how I feel about what I've written so far so we'll see?

#rosenali #rpdr fanfiction #inkpression writes

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mikauzoran · 4 years

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Ladrien/Adrienette: Drunk Ladybug on My Balcony? Yeah. This is Fine.: Chapter Twelve

Read it on AO3: Drunk Ladybug on My Balcony? Yeah. This is Fine.: Chapter Twelve: The Realization

Adrien scooted away, back to a suitable distance on the picnic blanket. “Um…so…maybe we should talk about, like, normal things now?” he suggested, grabbing a petit four from the tiered tea tray.

“That’s probably a good idea,” Ladybug chuckled nervously, scratching at her cheek as she tried to take deep breaths to get her racing heart rate and flaming blush down. “What would you like to talk about?”

“You,” he replied immediately.

Her blush only worsened. “What about me?”

“Personal things…but not incredibly personal things,” he gave a temperate response, reaching but not pushing too hard. “You know. Things like your favourite book, favourite movie, favourite colour. What kind of music you listen to. Hobbies. Tell me about you.”

“Only if you tell me about you too,” she haggled.

He chuckled as his own cheeks started to heat up. “You haven’t had enough of getting to know the real Adrien Agreste yet? I would have thought I’d have scared you off a dozen times over by now.”

She shook her head and smiled shyly. “Definitely not. What you’ve told me has only made me more intrigued.”

He gave her an appraising once-over, debating before finally giving in. “All right. So long as you’re not sick of me yet.”

“Never,” she assured. “First question?”

“What colour are your bedroom walls painted?” he inquired.

She quirked an eyebrow at the unexpected question and took a minute before answering cautiously. “…Pink. Why?”

“What shade?” he pressed, wanting to be able to envisage it exactly.

“Light pink. Like cherry blossoms,” she granted, giving in to his curiosity. “Why do you ask?”

“Just wondering about the girl on the other side of the mask,” he confessed. “Sometimes I think about what she’s like, what kinds of activities she does in her free time, what kinds of things she surrounds herself with.”

She shrugged, shaking her head as she looked away. “I don’t know if I’m worth that much thought,” she chuckled self-deprecatingly. “I’m just a normal girl. Not that interesting.”

“You’re interesting to me,” he informed gently, a soft affection in his eyes that made her chest feel tight.

“Oh…. I…I’m glad,” she managed with a bashful smile, wishing she could get across what his words truly meant to her. “Well…in that case…what’s your next question?”

The rest of their rooftop picnic continued in that vein with Ladybug sharing that she was a huge fan of Jagged Stone but had developed a liking for the music XY was putting out since he cut ties with his father’s label and started collaborating with Luka Couffaine.

Adrien confessed that he didn’t do well with scary movies because they gave him nightmares and made him afraid to shower.

“What horror movie had anything to do with showers?” Ladybug replied quizzically. “You mean because of the shower scene in The Shining or Psycho?”

He shook his head. “I’ve never seen those movies, actually, and the trailer for The Shining freaked me out enough that I feel like I’ve experienced enough of it for one lifetime,” he chuckled, rubbing at the back of his neck. “It’s just…I feel so vulnerable in there. Naked. Alone. I feel like a sitting duck. Anything could come and get me while I was defenseless. I’m really easily startled after I see a horror movie, so I’m always anxious about showering for at least a week afterwards.”

Ladybug nodded, trying (and failing) not to picture Adrien in his shower complete with a stereotypically sexy backing track. It also took some effort not to volunteer to sit in his bathroom with him while he showered to protect him after he next watched a horror film.

She was very tempted to suggest watching a horror movie as part of their date so that she could make the offer.

Instead, she replied, “I can see why you would feel that way. I’m always jumpy after watching horror films too” like a normal, non-psychotic person.

They cleaned up their picnic and stowed the leftovers in the wicker basket, tucking it back into the seam between the roof and one of the small white domes topping the church for Ladybug to return for later.

She got out her yoyo and surreptitiously dropped them down into an alley a few streets over so that they could nonchalantly walk out and join the crowd of visitors enjoying the iconic sights and locals going about their daily lives.

“Um…I thought we could do some window shopping?” Ladybug tentatively suggested. “Walk around? People watch? Browse? It’s a nice day, so… I mean, I know it’s a little touristy, but—”

“—That sounds great,” he cut her off with a wide grin, slipping his hand into hers. “I actually haven’t seen much of Paris, despite growing up here,” he confessed sheepishly. “I’ve always been a little…um…”

He tried to think of a nice way to say, “held prisoner”.

“…sheltered, I guess, so I wouldn’t be opposed to playing tourist, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh. No. Sure!” she agreed, a little flustered by the proximity of his radiant smile in the narrow alley as well as the weight and warmth of his hand in hers. “I’m happy so long as you’re happy.”

“I’m happy just being with you,” he countered with a wink, not noticing how she turned into a puddle of goo in response.

He gave her hand a squeeze and turned to guide them out of the alley and onto the cobbled street where visitors from all over the globe were moving from one shop to the next.

They too began to browse, chuckling at the whacky souvenirs for sale in shop after shop: cheap plastic trinkets, shirts, hats, magnets, shot glasses, snow globes…

Adrien held up a Paris-themed oven mitt in black, white, pink, and grey. “This is actually kind of cute,” he chuckled, musing, “It reminds me of Marinette…. I wonder if she’d like it.”

“I think she’d like anything if it was from you,” Ladybug sighed, heart filling to the brim once more as his thoughts drifted to her civilian identity.

Why had she never seen how much he liked her, how much Marinette meant to Adrien? She’d been blinded by his not obviously reciprocating her romantic feelings, so she’d missed out on how much he truly cared for her.

“You think?” he hummed, pleased at her response. “Maybe, but it’s not really practical. I’m sure she has dozens of oven mitts already with her parents being bakers, but… Could you do me a favor?” He looked to her with earnest eyes that made her gulp.

She bit her tongue to hold back the automatic, “Anything for you” that wanted to come out. “Uh, yeah. Sure. What do you need?”

“Could you take a picture and send it to me so I can text it to Marinette later? I left my phone at home so that my family couldn’t track the GPS,” he informed sheepishly.

“Oh, yeah. Sure,” she readily agreed, taking a peek around to make sure that no one was watching before she flipped open her yoyo and snapped a quick picture, forwarding it to him.

“Thanks, Nelle,” he expressed warmly, as if she had fulfilled one of Princess Kaguya’s impossible quests.

“Sure thing.” She blushed as she boldly dared to join their hands once more, interlacing her fingers with his.

He smiled and gave her hand a squeeze.

She loved when he did that.

“They even have the stereotypical accordion music,” Adrien snickered in amusement as he tossed a hundred euro note into the performer’s case as they passed. “It’s just like in the movies.”

“You’ve never been up here to Montmartre before?” Ladybug tried not to laugh as the accordionist quickly snatched the bill and tucked it into his inner jacket pocket.

Adrien shook his head. “I mean, I’ve been for work, but I’ve never been able to just wander around like this. It’s so different, seeing it in a relaxed, natural atmosphere.”

Ladybug nodded, guiding him towards the Place du Tertre, a little cobbled square where artists had set up to sell their work. “Yeah, I’d imagine a photoshoot wouldn’t provide a very calm environment during which to sightsee.”

“Yeah, unfortunately not. It’s kind of…structured,” he sighed, getting distracted by a middle-aged artist setting out beautiful pastel watercolors of Notre Dame in different seasons at sunset as seen from the Left Bank.

“I wish I was artistic,” he hummed mournfully, moving along to peruse the other artists’ wares before he was tempted or coerced into buying something.

“You could be,” Ladybug encouraged, stepping in closer to avoid a collision with a young American woman who was also browsing.

He shook his head, laughing good-naturedly at himself. “I have, like, zero talent. I can’t even do stick-figures well.”

“You could if you practiced,” she insisted. “It’s true that some people are born with innate talent, but drawing and painting can be learned even if they don’t come naturally. Being artistic is a skill, and, with enough practice, you could learn to be artistic too.”

He hummed as he stopped to admire a medium-sized canvas where an autumn scene set in the Bois de Boulogne was taking form with scarlet, ochre, and tangerine leaves peppering the trees.

“I think ‘enough’ practice would take many years. Still, it couldn’t hurt to try,” he reasoned. “I’m definitely not going to magically gain the ability to produce anything close to that just by whining about how I wish I could do it.”

“You’re not whining,” she assured, inching in closer so that their shoulders brushed. She gave him a shy, heartening smile. “You’re just being honest about what you want for yourself, and it’s okay to do that. It’s not whining.”

She knew his father was often very critical and chastised Adrien whenever he seemed to slide even one toe over the arbitrary line Gabriel had mentally drawn for him. If possible, she wanted to help Adrien to see that it was okay to voice his desires and complaints from time to time without it being considered “whining”.

“Thanks,” he replied softly, the warm look in his eyes partially obscured behind his movie star sunglasses, but she was close enough to see it. “I really appreciate the encouragement. I don’t exactly get a lot of that.”

“Well, I’ll have to see about changing that,” she declared, giving his arm a squeeze.

He smiled affectionately, and they walked on around the square, continuing to browse the various artists’ renditions of many a famous Paris landmark.

“…You know,” he remarked thoughtfully. “My father actually does a fair amount of drawing for work. Maybe I could ask him to teach me.”

“That could be a good way to spend time together,” she agreed, nodding with a supportive smile.

Adrien cringed. “Except that my father isn’t the most patient man, so he’d probably get frustrated with my turtle’s pace progress and end up berating me instead of helping me get better. That’s kind of how our relationship works,” he admitted with a discouraged sigh.

Ladybug bit her lip, searching her mind for a way to build up his self-esteem and lighten the mood. “Well, Marinette isn’t the best artist around, but she does do some drawing as part of her own designing work, so, if you really want to learn, maybe she could get you started in the right direction.”

“That’s actually a really good idea,” Adrien chuckled, turning his head to look at her. “Marinette…”

His brain ran into a mental brick wall as it processed for the first time how close she was and how familiar she looked…and not only because of how long he had cumulatively spent over the years staring at her as Ladybug.

“…Marinette…” he whispered, a revelation shaking him to his very core.

Ladybug had known him and fallen in love with him as a civilian, yet she didn’t think he’d say yes if she asked him out as herself. Ladybug and Marinette had intended to ask him out to coffee at the same time. The way Marinette acted around Chat Noir… He’d always marveled at how sassy and fun she was with him when he was the masked superhero as opposed to how she could barely talk to Adrien for about a year after they’d first met. In those moments when it was just Marinette and Chat Noir hanging out and being goofballs, she had reminded him so much of his Lady.

Now that he was looking at Ladybug and saying, “Marinette”, it all seemed so obvious.

Ladybug tipped her head to the side, waiting for Adrien to continue. “‘Marinette’…what? Is something wrong, Adrien?”

“Nope. Everything’s wonderful, Nette—uh—Nelle. Sorry. Just…” He mentally scrambled to pull together his thoughts and snap back into the moment because she was not going to be happy when she found out her secret was blown, and he really just wanted this date to continue forever, so…

“Sorry.” He covered up his flurry of thoughts with a practiced smile. “Just got distracted thinking about how wonderful Marinette is.”

“O-Oh,” she coughed, a crimson blush swelling up in her cheeks as she bashfully looked away. “Yeah. That’s…Marinette is…good.”

It had to be her…didn’t it? He was almost ninety-nine percent positive. There had to be some way to explain away the times he’d thought he’d seen them together over the years. Both his Lady and his Princess were smart enough to orchestrate some kind of elaborate scheme to throw him off the scent.

“Marinette is amazing,” he stressed, trying to keep his cat-that-ate-the-canary grin under wraps. “She’s super talented and such a fantastic person. If anyone could teach me how to draw, it would be her.”

Ladybug’s blush deepened. “You should ask her, then.”

“I think I will,” Adrien chuckled. “…Do you happen to draw, Nelle?”

“Uh…a little,” she answered, slightly thrown off by the question and still unsettled by his effusive praise of her civilian self. “I mean, I’m not very good, but I enjoy sketching and doodling.”

“What do you draw?” he inquired as innocently as possible.

“Oh, this and that,” she hedged with a shrug.

“Do you ever draw clothing?” he pressed, throwing his scruples out the window along with his resolution not to try to figure out her identity.

“Uh…sometimes,” she admitted. “I mean, like I said, I’m not very good, but…I like designing clothes and accessories. It’s always fun, especially when I have someone in mind I’m designing for. It’s fun to see how I can make their personalities come out in whatever I’m making.”

“I bet you’re amazing at it,” he cooed reverently, remember all the things he’d seen Marinette make for him and their friends over the years. “Have you ever thought about pursuing fashion professionally? Is that something you’d be interested in?”

“Actually…” She bit her lip, wondering if she was giving a little too much away.

He smiled at her, hanging on her every word as if entranced.

“Yes,” she admitted. “I have given it some thought. I mean, somewhat. I don’t know that I’d make it in the big leagues like your father, but…maybe it would be nice to have a little boutique where I took commissions and did a lot of custom pieces.”

“I bet you’d be wonderful,” he replied enthusiastically, face glowing. “If you ever need help with anything, please feel free to use me as a resource. I’ve got all kinds of contacts I could set you up with. Whatever you need,” he stressed.

“Thank you,” she shyly responded, cheeks darkening to match her dress.

“Anytime,” he assured, giving her arm a playful nudge.

They completed their loop around the square and continued window-shopping, ending up at a little café called La Gallete des Moulins for a snack because Adrien thought the fig tart that they saw through the window looked scrumptious.

“You haven’t had enough sweets for one day?” Ladybug teased, waggling her eyebrows at him. “Better be careful or you’re going to lose your girlish figure.”

Adrien waved her away as he handed the money over to the young woman manning the cash register. “I never get sweets, though. I’m running on a sweets deficit, so I have a lot of catching up to do while I’m not being strictly monitored.”

“You poor thing,” she sighed, pitying him in earnest as they headed out to the fenced-off patio area to sit. “That can’t be fun having people telling you what you can and can’t eat all the time. I’m sorry, Adrien.”

“Thanks. Though, it’s not so bad.” He smiled and shrugged it off as he set down the tray on one of the small green tables right alongside the fence and pulled out one of the wicker chairs for her with a bow. “Nino shares junk food, and Marinette, bless her, sneaks me pastries from time to time. That girl is a saint.”

“I’m glad someone is taking care of you. Thank you,” she chuckled as she took the seat.

He settled in across from her and started on his tart. “You sure you don’t want a bite?”

She eyed the tart appraisingly and considered how much she had already eaten in front of him so far. She didn’t want to look like a pig, but…

“Is it good?” she inquired.

He made an evaluating noise. “Meh. It’s not bad. The crust is nice, and the custard is nearly perfect, but it just doesn’t compare with the raspberry custard mini tarts we had earlier,” he replied honestly. “I’m sort of spoiled on Tom and Sabine’s, and the delicacies that Marinette made for us earlier just blow this out of the water. It’s not bad, though,” he judged fairly. “The figs are delicious, for one.”

“May I try a fig?” she asked, reaching out preemptively, fingers hovering over a slice.

“Go for it,” he encouraged, motioning for her to help herself. “…Hey, so…do you mind if I ask you more questions about yourself?”

She laughed, quirking an eyebrow. “You haven’t run out of questions yet? You were pretty thorough earlier.”

“I don’t think I asked the right questions,” he confessed, watching, mesmerized, as she licked the custard off of the fig.

“What kinds of questions do you have for me?” she hummed, pretending to entertain the idea of answering.

“Do you like video games?” he inquired, keeping up an innocent front, despite his firm intention to delve deeper.

In addition to Ultimate Mecha Strike, Adrien had found out as Chat Noir that Marinette was into some pretty niche games. She hadn’t mentioned them to Adrien, so Ladybug shouldn’t have any reason to suspect the trap. While it was possible that people besides Marinette had played games like Pyre, Titanic: Adventure Out of Time, and The Missing: J.J. MacField and the Island of Memories, it was unlikely that Ladybug had coincidentally played all of the same niche video games as Marinette unless they were, in fact, the same person.

One way or another, Adrien was going to find out because if they were one and the same, if it were possible to be with the woman he’d fallen for twice, Adrien was more than willing to bend some rules and break some promises. He’d waited so long already, and if she really did love him in return, maybe she’d find some way to forgive him.

Ladybug humored him for almost an hour, answering question after question as they sat and talked and people-watched at the café.

Slowly but surely, Adrien became increasingly certain that he knew who the elusive girl behind the mask was. There was still a part of him that worried it was merely wishful thinking, but the more they talked, the more breadcrumbs she unknowingly dropped until he wanted to scream in jubilation because he had finally found her, and she had been right in front of him the entire time.

They continued their stroll around Montmartre, looping around until they came back to Sacré-Coeur. They leisurely made their way down the hill, arm-in-arm, chatting and enjoying the brisk autumn evening.

When they arrived at the Place Saint-Pierre, Adrien spotted the carrousel, and his eyes lit up. Slowly, he turned to look at Ladybug and casually inquired, “Is it uncool for adults to ride a carrousel, do you think?”

She tried not to laugh as she smiled indulgently. “Adrien, if you want to ride the carrousel, we can ride the carrousel.”

His eyebrows dipped into a slight frown. “Are you sure? We don’t have to. I don’t want to make you do something embarrassing. I mean, I know carrousels are for little kids, so—”

“—Adrien,” she cut him off with a fond chuckle, pulling him gently yet firmly by the arm towards the merry-go-round. “It’s fine. There’s a carousel by my house that I ride with the kids I babysit all the time. I’m not embarrassed. It’s fun.”

“Oh,” he breathed, recalling the park next to Tom and Sabine’s bakery. “Okay. If you’re sure. I mean…”

She stopped and turned to look him full in the face, inquiring earnestly, “Adrien, do you want to ride the carrousel?”

He nodded. “I used to really love them when I was a kid. My mom and I would ride the one over by the Eiffel Tower sometimes when we snuck out to have adventures, so…yeah. I’d like to ride it.”

“Okay.” She gave him an encouraging smile and squeezed his hand, guiding him over to the merry-go-round. “You pick our horses. Whichever one you want.”

He pursed his lips and surveyed the ride with great concentration before deciding, “If it’s okay, I’d like the black one on the outer ring of the bottom level. Would you be okay with the white one next to it?”

“Sure, but don’t you want to go to the upper tier?” she asked, a little surprised. A double decker carrousel was a bit rare, even in Paris with its many carrousels, so she would have thought that Adrien would have taken advantage of the opportunity to ride on the upper deck.

He blushed as he averted his eyes. “I mean, the upper level would be cool, but all of those horses are single file, and I’d rather ride on the lower level and be next to you.”

“I can’t take it,” she confessed, catching him off guard.

“I’m sorry,” he quickly apologized, fearing he’d done something wrong. “I didn’t mean to. What can’t you take?”

She shook her head, face absolutely magenta. “No. No. I mean…you’re trying to kill me with how sweet and perfect you are,” she attempted to explain through her flustered state. “Like, everything that comes out of your mouth is like some line out of a romance novel, and you are just too cute and too sweet, and I’m going to overheat and die because I like you so much.”

His eyes went wide momentarily in shock at her bluntness, but then a wide smirk slowly spread across his lips.

She clapped a hand over her mouth, gasping at her unintended forwardness. “Oh my gosh,” she breathed, a giddy laugh rising in her throat. “I can’t believe I just said that.”

“Me either,” he hummed, clearly pleased with himself and her and life in general.

“I’ve been trying to say something like that to you for seven years now,” she snorted.

“And I’ve been waiting just as long to hear it,” he assured, leaning in to kiss her temple.

“How are you so smooth?” she groaned through a broad grin of her own.

He shrugged and looped his arm through hers, leading her over to their mounts. “I consume an indecent amount of shoujo manga and romance novels,” he confessed. “It’s rubbed off on me over the years.”

“And here I thought it was natural talent,” she snickered.

“I’m sure there’s a certain amount of that as well,” he hummed happily, giving her a hand up before ascending himself.

The sun began to dip low towards the horizon, and Ladybug tugged Adrien inconspicuously into an alley so that they could take to the sky on her yoyo without anyone seeing her take off.

“I’ve got one last surprise for you,” she informed, carrying him back towards the heart of the city.

“Is that surprise that you’re kidnapping me and never making me go home ever again?” he inquired hopefully, knowing that the bliss he’d felt with her the past few hours was coming to an unavoidable end.

“I wish,” she snorted. “If I could, I would definitely keep you, but I don’t think even Ladybug could get away with kidnapping Adrien Agreste. Your father would have my neck.”

“Unfortunately, you’re probably right,” he sighed, letting his head come to rest on her shoulder. “All right. I guess all we can do is enjoy the time we have left.”

“I think you’ll enjoy this,” she chuckled. “We’re going to one of my favourite spots in all of Paris. Super exclusive with a view that can’t be beat,” she promised.

“Oh,” he breathed, realizing that she was taking him to the top of the Eiffel Tower to watch the sunset.

He wasn’t sure how to feel about that at first. Ladybug and Chat Noir had often met there to hang out and chat, and many a sunset had been watched over the years. He’d come to think of it as one of “their spots”, so the fact that Ladybug was bringing Adrien there felt like a bit of a betrayal.

But then, on the other hand, he was the one who had betrayed Ladybug first by bringing Marinette there on several occasions. And if Ladybug was, in fact, Marinette, she knew what Chat Noir had done.

Ultimately, he decided to be honored that Ladybug thought Adrien worthy of sharing such a special spot.

They touched down at the very top, and Ladybug gently deposited him back onto his own feet.

“Ta-da,” she chuckled, pushing a bang back out of the way as the evening breeze licked it from its place. “This is the best view I know of, so… You’re not too cold, are you?” she inquired, surveying his sweater and undershirt combo and wondering how insulating they would be against the higher winds at that altitude.

“I’m fine,” he rushed to assure. “…Unless you’re suavely trying to get me to cuddle with you. In that case, I’m freezing,” he amended with a flirty wink that made her crack up.

“Actually,” she drawled mischievously, going over to where a second wicker picnic basket had been stowed near the center of the tower. She checked inside and pulled out a thermos, two mugs, a Tom and Sabine’s takeaway box, and two blankets. “I thought it might be nippy, so I planned ahead.”

She spread one of the blankets for them to sit on and set down the thermos, mugs, and pastry box upon it, holding out the other blanket towards him. “Here you go. If you need it, I mean. I know it gets a little brisk up here in the evenings once the sun sets.”

He took the proffered blanket with a warm, “Thank you. You’re always so thoughtful, Nelle,” and sat, wrapping it around his shoulders to fight off the autumn chill.

She settled in beside him and set to work lifting the lid of the takeaway box to reveal the most perfectly baked chocolate chip cookies Adrien had ever seen before moving to unscrew the cap of the thermos, announcing, “I give you Dupain-Cheng Special Hot Chocolate—recipe known only to members of the Dupain-Cheng family.”

Adrien arched an eyebrow, grinning cockily. “Then how did you get the recipe?”

“I didn’t!” she insisted, voice pitching high in her panic. “I just ordered it from Marinette along with the cookies.”

“It was awfully nice of Marinette to cater our date,” he hummed appreciatively, leaning in to survey the chocolate chip cookies.

“I do a lot of business with Marinette,” Ladybug fibbed, pouring the hot chocolate from the thermos into the mugs. “My kwami Tikki loves her cookies, so Marinette has kind of ended up being Tikki’s preferred supplier.” She smiled sheepishly as she handed him a mug and took the other for herself.

“I am exceedingly excited to try out this super-secret hot chocolate and these Tikki-approved cookies,” he chuckled, bringing the mug up to his lips.

In truth, he had had Marinette’s cookies and Dupain-Cheng Special Hot Chocolate before when he’d spent time with Marinette over the years as Chat Noir, but Maribug didn’t need to know that yet.

He purred happily as the chocolate washed over his tongue, coating his mouth in the rich, luscious taste of the special blend of spices Marinette was so secretive about. “This is amazing,” he praised. “What do you think I’d have to do to get the recipe because this is to die for.”

Ladybug gave a snort, sipping smugly from her own mug. “Marry Marinette.”

“Don’t tempt me,” he snickered. “The hot chocolate recipe would only be the icing on the metaphorical cake, if you’ll excuse the baking pun.”

“Try the cookies,” she urged, turning her head so that he hopefully didn’t notice her rampant blush and the way she couldn’t hold in an effulgent grin.

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” he assured, helping himself and then savoring the way the cookie almost melted on his tongue.

“…By the way,” he thought to ask a minute later, “how did this stuff get up here? There’s no way you could have dropped it off before our date. The hot chocolate wouldn’t still be hot.”

“I actually called in a favor from a friend,” she confessed. “The new Turtle hero, Michelangelo, picked up the basket from Marinette’s house and dropped it off here for me.”

Adrien blinked slowly as his brain tried to process what she was saying. “New…Turtle hero?”

She nodded. “Chat Noir has been pestering me about adding another full-time member, and I finally decided he was right, so we’re bringing Michelangelo on for a probationary trial period.”

Adrien had to keep a tight grip on his poker face to ensure that he didn’t react to this news because it sounded like Ladybug had brought Nino back onto the team like Chat Noir had asked but made him leave the Carapace identity behind so that no one would suspect that the “new” Turtle hero was really the same holder who had had his identity compromised six years prior.

“Oh, cool,” Adrien remarked in as neutral-to-positive a tone as he could manage. “I think that’ll be good. I’m glad that someone else will be out there watching your back.”

“I’m actually bringing him on to watch Chat Noir’s back because he already has mine…maybe a little too much,” she sighed, brow creasing in worry as she thought about her partner.

Adrien set down his mug and reached out to take her hand, squeezing it supportively. “Hey. It’s okay. I know sometimes that it doesn’t feel like it, but…it’s okay, Nelle.”

She smiled weakly, returning the hand squeeze. “Thanks.”

“Here.” He scooted in closer, unfolding the blanket she had given him and draping it over both of their shoulders. “Is this okay?” he inquired, slipping an arm around her waist.

“Yeah,” she confirmed with a tired sigh, letting go and resting her head on his shoulder. “This is perfect. …Thanks.”

“Any time,” he whispered, leaning his cheek against the top of her head. “I know you’re tough, but you don’t always have to be around me. It’s okay not to be invincible and perfect. It’s okay to just be a twenty-year-old girl trying to make it all work.”

“Thanks,” she repeated softly, sinking into him.

They watched the sun gradually float towards the horizon for a while in contented silence as they snuggled and enjoyed their cookies and hot chocolate.

“…What are you humming?” Ladybug inquired curiously some time later.

Adrien gave a start and pulled back. “Oh. Sorry. I…I spend a lot of time alone, so I’ve developed the bad habit of talking and singing to myself. Sometimes I don’t even realize I’m doing it,” he explained sheepishly, cheeks going as red as her dress in embarrassment.

“Oh, no. Don’t be sorry,” she entreated with a kind smile. “I was just asking because it’s pretty and I wanted to know what song it was. Your humming is lovely, and lots of people do that. Chat Noir, for one, is always singing under his breath to himself, so it’s not uncommon or weird at all.”

He tried not to grimace as a part of him wished she would just see Chat Noir inside of Adrien already.

“Oh? Chat Noir does too?” he forced himself to chuckle.

She nodded completely unsuspectingly as she asked again, “What song were you humming?”

“Have you seen the movie Tangled?” he inquired even though he had shown it to Marinette himself when he’d learned that she’d never watched it before.

“Mmhm,” she affirmed as a rosy blush spread across her cheeks. She looked down at the blanket with a fond smile. “A good friend of mine is a bit of a Disney afficionado. He kind of flipped out and strapped me down and made me watch it when he found out I’d never seen it.”

He grimaced at her description. “Was this a positive experience or torture?” he had to wonder.

“Oh, no! It was fun!” she insisted, wide-eyed, flailing her hands and nearly upsetting the hot chocolate mugs and the cookies. “I had fun.”

“Oh, good,” he laughed in relief. “Otherwise, I’d have to say that maybe you shouldn’t be friends with this guy. He sounds kind of extreme.”

“No,” she hurried to correct his misconception. “Watching the movie was completely voluntary. He…He’s a good friend.” Her voice dipped low with feeling and softened as she added, “He’s very important to me.”

“Oh,” Adrien breathed, his own cheeks starting to glow. “That’s…good. I’m glad,” he replied genuinely.

There was a beat, and then he cleared his throat. “…Well, the song is I See the Light from Tangled, so…”

“Will you sing it for me?” she asked so earnestly he couldn’t refuse.

“You want me to serenade you, Nelle?” he chuckled, eyebrows dancing jocosely.

She nodded eagerly. “Please? I really love your voice.”

“Is that the only thing you love?” he teasingly fished, holding out hope.

She rolled her eyes, blushing as she gave him a playful shove and commanded, “Sing.”

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and obediently began the song, tenderly and vulnerably, “All those days watching from the windows…all those years outside looking in…”

He sang in English, so she struggled to understand some parts, but the lyrics didn’t really matter to her. She could feel the emotions in his voice as he sang of being isolated and lost and then suddenly finding where he was meant to be.

He opened his eyes and stared into hers, and she couldn’t help but be drawn into him, losing herself in his song as he confessed, “And at last I see the light…and it’s warm and real and bright…now that I see you.”

He stopped singing then and smiled bashfully, reaching up to cup her cheek in his hand as he whispered, “Ladybug?”

“Hm?” she blinked dreamily, still swimming in his piercing peridot eyes.

“I need to tell you something. You’re not going to understand,” he informed sadly, his thumb stroking her cheekbone. “And you’re not going to think that I’m serious because what I’m about to say is going to sound impossible, but please know that I’m telling the truth.”

“Adrien?” she replied uncertainly, brow beginning to crease in confusion. “What is it?”

“I love you,” he breathed with a tortured smile. “I love you more than anything, and being here with you is a dream come true.”

She gasped, stunned by his heartfelt confession, mind spinning as he began to lean in, his eyes slowly drifting closed.

The clear choice was to let him kiss her. The obvious course of action was to wrap her arms around him and kiss his face off like she’d dreamed of doing for more than half a decade now.

But, in that moment, no matter how romantic the set up, it didn’t feel right.

Alya had a point.

Ladybug was misleading Adrien by not telling him the whole truth, and, however much he liked Marinette, he was bound to be upset when he found out who was behind the mask because she wasn’t being honest with him, and how was that going to provide a foundation upon which to build a relationship?

She pulled back and looked away, hating herself for what she was doing to him.

“Sorry,” she whispered, the word sounding hollow even to her own ears. “I just don’t think it’s fair to you, not knowing who you’re kissing.”

He bit his lip, mentally debating how much she’d freak out if he told her he was ninety-nine percent certain that he knew exactly whom he’d been about to kiss.

“Knowing your name isn’t important,” he responded gently instead, resting his hand on top of hers. “What really matters is knowing who you are as a person. I know you, Ladybug, and I know what I want.”

She winced, averting her eyes and turning her head further.

He froze. “…Unless…Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry,” he rushed to apologize as a realization made him feel sick. “I didn’t even stop to think that you might not want to kiss me. Please forgive me. I didn’t mean to—”

“—No!” she interrupted, grabbing his hand and turning back to face him. “No, Adrien, I definitely want to kiss you. You didn’t do anything wrong. I did.”

“Ladybug, no,” he tried to protest, but she shook her head and wouldn’t listen.

“No,” she repeated decidedly. “I’m the one who messed up by asking you out as Ladybug in the first place. None of this has been fair to you, and I’m really sorry, Adrien,” she sighed.

A twinge of guilt struck him as he was reminded of the very similar ways in which he wasn’t being completely honest with her. “Ladybug…that’s not…” he tried ineffectually.

She shook her head, her mind made up. “I’m sorry. I think maybe I should take you home now.”

“Please, no,” he pleaded weakly. “I don’t want this to be over yet.”

“Me either,” she agreed melancholically. “But we need to get you home before they notice you’re missing.”

He didn’t bother voicing the fact that, likely, no one had noticed that he’d been gone for hours and no one was likely to discover his absence now.

Instead, he reluctantly submitted, helping her clean up and then obediently slipping his arms around her so that she could carry him back to the lonely Agreste Mansion just a few blocks away.

He tried to concentrate on the way she held him, the warmth of her against the chill of the wind as it whipped against them, every point of contact between their bodies, the scent of her oatmeal body wash and strawberry shampoo melding with the faint, lingering scent of bakery.

#Ladrien #Adrinette #Adrienette #Miraculous Ladybug #Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction #Ladybug #Adrien Agreste #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Chat Noir #Identity Reveal #Partial Identity Reveal #Fluff #Date #Mikau's Writings #Drunk Ladybug on My Balcony? Yeah. This is Fine.

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keelywolfe · 4 years

Text

Drabble: Cheap Thrills (baon)

Summary: Stretch can get a lot of entertainment out of a thrift store find.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

Stretch loved to pick up old books at the thrift shop. There were so many gems that might get lost at a traditional bookstore, like his trusty copy of ‘How to Teach Spanish to Dogs.’

Romance novels were cheap and plentiful, and he got them by bagful for Blue, who never much seemed interested in finding his own romance but loved reading about others. Old reference books filled with outdated information that was still interesting to read about, seeing what people used to believe, until science or society proved them wrong.

Then there were specialty finds.

Stretch wasn’t even two steps through the front door before he held up his prize, announcing happily, “look what i found!”

Edge barely looked up from his laptop, “If it has even one clown on it—"

“No clowns.” That was a prize he’d be sure to stash behind the shower curtain for maximum effect.

For once Stretch didn’t mind Edge working a little overtime at home. Kept him off his feet, gave all those healing juices a chance to settle in.

But a little distraction never hurt. Stretch flopped on the sofa and settled his head right into Edge’s lap, ignoring his exasperated sigh as he held out the book he’d found.

The cover was old and stained, but the title was still readable, ‘The Congregational Cook Book’ and in small letters beneath that, ‘edited by the ladies’ aid society of the First Congregational Church of Ebott, 1915.’

He knew his baby well. As soon as Edge stopped glaring an actually looked at the book, a flicker of interest made an appearance. He set his laptop on the coffee table, ignoring Stretch’s exaggerated sputters of suffocation as his forward lean threatened to smother him with Edge’s shirt, then took the book.

“A cookbook?”

“a really old cookbook!” Stretch enthused, “like, a century old. i thought maybe you’d like to try one it out. See how it compares to the youtube generation of cooking.”

“That does sound interesting,” Edge flipped through the book, reading aloud, “Salmon omelet, no, thank you, green tomato pickles, hot water gingerbread, hm, apple tarts. I do have apples, how does that sound?”

“baby, anything you make sounds like mana from heaven.” And at Edge’s raised brow bone, Stretch admitted, “except risotto, okay, but that’s less you than a general dislike of the genre.”

Edge nudged Stretch off his lap and stood, heading into the kitchen with book in hand. Normally, Stretch would’ve tossed him a fair thee well and let him get to it, but this time, he followed Edge through the swinging door. He was sort of curious if there were any differences in a recipe from a hundred years ago to now, and hey, science, right?

Not that he planned on helping with the cooking process, he was here strictly as an observer, and he plopped down into one of the chairs that surrounded their ‘dining room table’, “so, how much longer are we eating at the card table?”

“Not long,” Edge retrieved a large bowl from under the counter and a set of measuring cups from the cupboard before tying on an apron. “I’m working on a plan for our new kitchen layout. As soon as it’s done, I’ll have the builders get started on it.”

“uh huh, no rush, i was only curious,” Stretch propped his chin on one hand. “you do have a lot on your plate right now, babe. and there’s your whole mental health assessment you still need done.”

Really, it was sort of impressive how much Stretch could glean from slightest change in his husband’s expression. A normal person would think there was no change, but Stretch was good with languages, spent years learning Edge-ese. He knew a twist of distaste when it saw it, “Yes. There is that.”

Any other comment about it was effectively blocked by Edge’s renewed focus on the cookbook, reading the recipe aloud beneath his breath. His brow bone slowly furrowed, concentration replaced with dismay. Which…it was a cookbook, not a grimoire of early twentieth century curses. Wasn’t it?

“babe?” Stretch asked cautiously, “what is it?”

“What kind of recipe is this!” Edge exclaimed. He picked up the book and read aloud, “Eggs, oil, fresh butter or lard, sugar, baking powder, as much flour as it needs. Must be soft as an earlobe, thicker than cake.”

“uh…” Stretch scratched at the back of his skull. “and?”

“That's it. That's the entire recipe. There’s no measurements, no directions, no temperature for baking!” He slapped the book back down on the counter-top. “There are no apples listed! How can this be a recipe for apple tarts without apples? How in the name of the unknown am I supposed to gauge the softness of an earlobe when I don’t have ears?”

All great questions, except Stretch was in possession of exactly zero answers. “does seem a little speciest against those of us without earlobes.”

Edge glared at the cookbook as if by his will alone answers to his questions would come, which was why Stretch was a little surprised when Edge said abruptly, "Let me see your phone."

"yeah, sure," Stretch said, slowly handing it over. Not like he had any secrets or anything and while Edge might change his own passwords at least once a month for security reasons, he’d been using the first 6 digits of Pi since he got the phone. “why?”

“Because I left mine in the living room.” Edge tapped the screen impatiently holding it out as it began dialing out over speakerphone.

A sleepy voice answered, "'lo? Wassup, Boney Marony. "

"Jeff,” Edge said, “I’m afraid you’ll have to engage in wordplay with my husband later. Right now, I need you to come over so I can feel your ears."

A long moment of silence. "That’s very specific. Okay, I'll bite, give me five."

It was more like ten minutes, with Edge sitting impatiently across from Stretch, who was engaged in a furious game of Words With Friends on his newly retrieved phone. Until the light knock came on the front door followed by Jeff shambling into the kitchen. He looked like they’d woken him from a nap, his hair was smashed flat on one side and sticking up on the other. He scratched at his t-shirt covered belly and yawned out, "You know, before I met you guys, I never got calls like this."

“sounds to me like you needed a little more excitement in your life,” Stretch said cheerily.

Edge didn’t bother with a greeting. He limped determinedly over, stripping off his gloves as he went, and without warning began to vigorously fondle Jeff’s earlobes. Jeff squeaked out a mousy sound, his eyes wide as golf balls as he stared up at Edge.

Well. Wasn’t like Andy didn’t know why he was here.

“easy, babe,” Stretch winced, “he might need a little foreplay before you go right for the lobes.”

“I’m checking his ears, not his testicles,” Edge said curtly, even as he leaned down to peer closely at the ears in question.

That remark made Stretch and Jeff speak in unison,

“holy shit, wow, just tossing that out there, huh.”

“Okay, I’m good to help a friend out, but I am drawing the line at ball grabbing.”

Edge ignored them both. He let Jeff go and limped back to his gathered ingredients, already starting to measure them into the bowl, “Thank you, Jeff, that will be all.”

Welp, that sounded like a dismissal. Stretch climbed to his feet, jerking his head towards the door. “c’mon, andy, we can take in a flick while you’re here, if you want.”

Jeff was still a little wobbly, gingerly reaching up to touch one of his well-inspected ears as he followed Stretch out, “Do I want to know what that was all about?”

Stretch shrugged, “cooking.”

“Cooking,” Jeff repeated. He mouthed it again, soundlessly, then shook his head. “I don’t even think I want to know, plausible deniability is probably better. So, he asked for me to help, why?”

“well, how many other humans does edge know that he can call up and ask?” Stretch asked reasonably. He picked up the remote and turned on Netflix. “and don’t say your honey because we both know he’d just hang up, especially without having the proper forms filled out first.”

“Glad to be the go-to guy for illicit cooking-related bodily inspections.” Jeff joined Stretch on the sofa, settling in. “Classic Twilight Zone, huh? Good choice.”

The first episode was mostly over by the time Edge came out with a tray with a half-dozen golden-brown treats that brimmed with appley goodness. Stretch and Jeff dug in, mumbling thank you’s around their mouthfuls and Stretch was already on his second one when he noticed Edge was scribbling notes. He chewed and swallowed his current bite and asked, “what are you doing?”

“Gauging your reactions,” Edge said, still writing, “I kept a close track of the ingredient measurements that I used so that I can make changes for the second batch. Are they too dry? Is the pastry tough?”

“Tastes fine to me,” Jeff said around his mouthful.

“Crisp? Chewy? Is there enough spice?” Edge persisted. The two of them did their best to answer him around bites and finally, Edge made a satisfied sound and disappeared back into the kitchen.

“Huh,” Jeff snagged another tart. “How many batches you think he’s gonna make?”

Stretch shrugged, “i do my experiments and he does his.”

“His taste better.”

“my science isn’t the kind you lick.”

“So far it hasn’t involved you groping my ears, either,” Jeff took a bite and groaned around it, “Worth it, man, but the balls are still off-limits.”

“sounds reasonable.” Stretch snagged the last tart and sank back to watch the pig-faced doctor demanding a needle to sedate his patient, happily waiting to review batch number two.

Hey, he got a snack and a show, all for the price of a thrift store book. Now all he needed to do was sneak that clown statue into the bathroom, but eh, he might wait a while on that. This was enough entertainment for one day.

-finis-

Notes:

So, the recipe in question has been slightly modified from one in a reddit post and the poster had a couple of similar questions as Edge, although their solution wasn't the same. 😂 I couldn't resist writing how Edge would react to finding such a recipe.

The ‘The Congregational Cook Book, edited by the ladies’ aid society of the First Congregational Church, 1915.’ is real enough and I own it. Some of recipes and their measurements are very interesting in comparison to what we see now!

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #by any other name

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frobster · 4 years

Text

Offer of a Lifetime: Chapter 2

Both chapters now up on ao3!

☆☆☆

Peter stayed where he was for a moment, shocked by what had just happened, before his phone buzzed again and brought him back to himself. He looked down at the number of missed messages and quickly read through them, MJ becoming increasingly frantic when Peter didn’t immediately answer.

> Peter: So, James was just in my apartment

> Peter: Also, he told me to call him Bucky

The buzzing started again before Peter could even lock his phone. He ignored it as he went around getting dressed, pulling on underwear and sweatpants before checking again.

> MJ: PETER WHAT THE FUCK

> Ned: BRO ARE YOU OKAY???

> Peter: I’m fine. He left. Gave me a week to think about his offer. Also said he would leave me alone completely if I turned him down

> MJ: And u believed him???????????

> Peter: He didn’t give me a reason not to. There weren't any threats, and he did wait wait a whole day before contacting me

> Ned: Sugar daddy already getting to you smh

> Peter: Come on, you know it would be amazing to have a sugar daddy

> MJ: Ya but this one could put u in a lot of danger

Peter bit his lip as he thought. MJ was right. While it was his dream to be a kept boy and never have to worry about anything, he wasn’t sure if it was worth the dangers associated with Bucky. He would definitely need the whole week to think.

> MJ: We’re gonna talk more tonight. I’ll see u at 7:45

> Peter: Sounds good

Bucky was at the forefront of Peter’s mind for the rest of the day. He didn’t really have anything to do until the evening, so he lounged around much like the previous day and tried to find more on the internet about Bucky.

“Where did that name even come from?” Peter muttered to himself as he clicked on yet another tabloid article. The gossip papers had a lot to speculate about him since they loved to lie about crime and drama. He mostly skimmed the articles since they all seemed to be sensationalized and mostly rumors.

One thing that stood out to Peter was the consistent inclusion of a broad blonde man almost always on Bucky’s right. The few pictures that weren’t blurry or grainy made the man seem relatively attractive, and Peter had to wonder if he was a past fling or just a confidante. Bucky obviously liked men, given his interest in Peter, but that still didn’t confirm anything.

The day oozed by in a cloud of laziness - naps, articles, snacks. Peter didn’t leave the couch except to get a snack or use the bathroom. By the time 6pm rolled around, Peter finally got up to start getting ready. He never took too long, but he didn’t want to rush either. The weather was still decent, so he decided on a pair of shorts that would help show off his legs and a mesh tank top that wouldn’t really cover anything. Beneath the shorts, he had red panties. Even if it led to him getting misgendered more often, the panties did help him get more money out of clients.

Peter ran his hands through his hair to make it fluffy and messy, swiped some gloss over his lips before tucking the tube into his bag, then looked at his measly pile of shoes. There weren’t many to choose from and most of them were bought purely for style rather than function. He ended up going back to his room to grab a pair of knee-high socks before sliding on a pair of black high-top sneakers. People still liked scene twinks, right? The socks would help keep his legs warm too once the sun went down and the air got cooler.

Picking his outfit didn’t take very long, so Peter was left with almost an hour until he had to leave. Then he remembered that Ned and MJ went grocery shopping for him, so he took a tour of his own kitchen to see what they got for him. Most of it was canned goods so it wouldn’t go to waste if he didn’t eat it quickly, but there were some fresher foods too like prepackaged salads and frozen chicken.

Settling on the chicken and a salad, Peter hauled out the bag of chicken tenders to check the required oven temperature. He got the oven set and preheating before wandering back to his couch and flopping over the back of it. Upon checking his phone, he finally saw the few messages from Bucky that he missed while showering.

> I’m coming to visit soon. Try to look presentable.

Sent almost as soon as Peter stepped into the shower. He grimaced at the bad timing and scrolled down to read the rest, sent after Bucky had left.

> Obviously you did not see my message beforehand, as I assume a towel around your waist and a bare chest is not what you would typically consider “presentable”.

> You have until next Wednesday to make your decision. If you do not give me an answer before then, I will assume you’re uninterested and leave you alone, like I promised.

Peter sighed and reread the messages a few times. Then he saved Bucky’s contact number before taking another screenshot to send to his friends.

> Peter: See? I told you he would leave me alone if I turned him down

> MJ: I guess he may not be such a terrible person…

> Ned: He literally runs the New York mafia

> MJ: Yeah, but he knows how to treat a boy right

> Peter: I’m feeling heart emojis. Should I change his name in my phone to Daddy?

> Ned: NO!!!!!!!

> MJ: skjghalfaldfk YES

> Ned: Do NOT encourage him!!

Peter laughed to himself and quickly changed Bucky’s contact name to ‘Daddy’ followed by pink and purple heart emojis. Then he took another screenshot of the saved contact and sent it to the chat.

> MJ: I expect updates every time he texts you. We have to decide if he’s good enough for our baby

> Ned: I will not approve of Peter being the kept boy of the HEAD OF THE NEW YORK MAFIA

> Peter: Aw dad, you’re no fun

> Ned: Don’t make me ground you

> MJ: Not allowed, Peter and I have work tonight

> MJ: Maybe daddy will bring us some coffee

> Peter: Hey! Only I am allowed to call him daddy

> MJ: Aw, possessive already? ;)

> Peter: ...maybe

> Ned: I’m doomed. We’re all doomed

Their casual, friendly conversation continued for a while until Ned had to put his phone away for class. Peter and MJ switched to single texting as they talked about their plans for that night. She had got them a new corner a few blocks away from where Bucky had picked Peter up, but they both knew that Bucky could find them again if he really wanted to.

The oven soon beeped so Peter got up to put a couple chicken tenders on a pan and into the oven. He set a timer on his phone then looked around his apartment as he tried to figure out what to do to pass the time.

But rather than finding something to do, Peter just realized how shitty his apartment really was. The walls were thin and dirty, there was a crack spiderwebbing up the wall in a corner, the floors were stained and worn out from countless tenants. He sighed and slumped against the kitchen counter, a cheap laminated wood that creaked even under his slight weight. There were multiple different bug problems through the building - cockroaches, ants, spiders, wasps. He had a roach problem in his own apartment, leading to all food in the cabinets needing to be canned so they couldn't chew into it.

It was exhausting to live in poverty. Peter hated his apartment but it was all he could really afford. The life insurance policy from his aunt was used to pay off his surgery bills and the rest was funneled to any other medical costs that came up, including his hormone prescription. While he did have some money in savings, it would not be enough to allow him to live somewhere better. He was losing money faster than he made it back.

Bucky’s offer was slowly becoming more and more attractive.

When the timer went off on his phone, Peter swiped it away before carefully taking out the tray of chicken. He set it on the stove to let it cool while he took out the prepared salad bag and set to mixing everything together. Then, since he didn’t feel like using multiple dishes, he cut up the chicken on the baking pan and scraped the pieces into the salad bowl.

“Yeah, I can provide for myself,” Peter said to himself before taking a bite.

The salad was filling and Peter actually felt like he had a decent amount of energy. He took the time to wash all the dishes he used rather than trying to jam them into the dishwasher, brushed his teeth, reapplied his lip gloss, then checked the time.

MJ had sent a few more messages with details of their shift that night, and Ned announced the end of his class and the offer of searching Bucky more. Peter bit his lip as he considered it. If he was going to really give Bucky’s offer some serious consideration, he felt he needed to know the man better. Or he could just text Bucky.

Before he could chicken out, Peter sent a quick text to Bucky and pocketed his phone so he could finalize his outfit and wait for MJ.

> Peter: If you want me to live with you, I’m gonna need to know more about you.

There wasn’t any reply before MJ arrived. Peter sighed as he looked at his lack of notifications before he tucked his phone away, grabbed his bag, and headed out to meet MJ.

There was some tension in the car as a lackey drove Peter and MJ to their new corner. The random guy was humming along to music on the radio while the other two held hands in the back of the car. He didn’t say anything as he stopped at a new corner and unlocked the door, a clear signal for them to get out.

Peter stepped out with his mini backpack shouldered and fixed his shorts once he was standing. MJ followed him out and fixed her skirt too, her own bag slung across her chest and accenting her cleavage. Another reason why MJ was slightly better off than Peter was her assets. People just tended to want her more often than him. He wasn’t upset about that, he knew his friend was gorgeous and she deserved the attention and money. He just couldn’t help but feel a little jealous of her slightly better financial state.

“Did Bucky say anything else?” MJ asked as the car drove off.

“Nope. I don’t really know what he would say,” Peter replied, hyper-aware of his phone in his pocket. He couldn’t remember if it had buzzed while they were in the car since his mind was wandering. Already, just one day after meeting the man, Peter couldn’t stop thinking about Bucky.

8pm wasn’t very late, the bars were just starting to fill up. Peter and MJ had time to talk before people would start showing interest in them. The sunset was nice to watch and offered a serene backdrop to the chaos of their lives, purples and reds blending together like the mundane and unusual of the past few days.

“I would think that he would try to sweeten the deal somehow, y’know? You’ve clearly been hesitant about accepting his offer, so wouldn’t he want to tempt you?” MJ looked at her nails and flicked a speck of invisible dust off the shiny finish, then winked at someone who was looking at her as they stepped into the nearby bar.

“I dunno how much sweeter the deal could get. He offered to pay for everything for the rest of my life, or leave me alone without any trouble. It’s a win-win situation.” Even to his own ears, Peter knew it sounded lame. He was so tempted to accept Bucky’s offer, and MJ could clearly hear that in his voice.

“You deserve to know more about him at least. Even Ned had a hard time finding anything on this guy. And now that we know he’s got some dangerous connections, it would be in your best interest to find out everything you can before making a decision, especially since you’re tempted to agree.” Peter MJ would’ve been an excellent counselor. Maybe she still could be. If they ever found themselves in a position to start saving up money, she could put it towards college classes.

“Yeah, I know. I’m just not-” Peter cut off when he felt his phone vibrate against his ass. He reached into his back pocket to pull it out and blinked as he read the message.

> Bucky: We could discuss that over dinner, if you’d like. I know you’re working, but I could talk to your boss and have him pardon you for the night.

Before Peter could reply to the text or finish what he was saying, MJ snatched his phone away to read the message.

“Hey! Give that back!” Peter squawked as he tried to grab his phone back.

But MJ was taller than him even without the heels she was wearing, so she just held the phone up and angled it down so she could read the screen. She laughed aloud when she read the message and finally lowered her hand again so Peter could have his phone back. He huffed as he stuffed it into his pocket again without bothering to answer.

“It’s cute that he’s already offering to cover your shifts for you. Maybe he’ll even give you some cash to make up for missing a whole night,” MJ teased with a grin. Peter felt too flustered to really register that she seemed to be encouraging him to leave with Bucky.

“There is nothing cute about this situation,” Peter huffed, cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment. He wasn’t really sure what he was embarrassed about. Maybe he didn’t realize how tempted he was to accept Bucky’s offer until MJ gave him that little nudge.

“Well, you’re pretty cute. It’s cute how often you blush when we talk about him.” MJ’s tone was more genuine that time, and Peter felt a little surprised.

“Did Ned tell you something else about this guy? Why do you seem so supportive of him now?” There was another buzz in Peter’s pocket but he ignored it, wanting to hear MJ’s answer first.

“You deserve a good life, Peter.” She looked at him, entirely serious, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve been through so much and you’re only nineteen. I want you to be happy, to have opportunities that we could never find in this line of work.”

“MJ…”

Before Peter could say more, his phone started buzzing like he had a call. He sighed and reached into his pocket, making a brief note that it was Bucky calling before he answered.

“Hello?”

“You didn’t answer my text, Peter. So I called your boss anyway. I’m coming to pick you up. Would MJ like to join us for dinner?”

Peter just squeaked, his jaw dropped open as he tried to think of what to say. MJ rolled her eyes and snatched the phone away again so she could talk for him.

“Hi, Bucky. Peter would love to go to dinner with you, but he seems to have forgotten how to speak.” She snickered at whatever Bucky said, Peter watching with wide eyes as she spoke with him so casually. “Aw, thank you! I would love to join you for dinner. If you intend to steal my boy away, I have to see if you’re worth his time.”

“MJ!” Peter finally came back to his senses and made a grab for his phone, but she held him back just like before.

“Yeah, that was him. He’s just so excited to see you again. We’ll be waiting for you!” MJ hung up the phone before handing it back to Peter with a grin. “He will be here in about fifteen minutes so zip up your hoodie and try to not look like such a whore.”

Peter swatted at MJ’s arm, making her cackle loudly as she pulled a balled-up shawl out of her bag to wrap around her shoulders and cover up her chest. She tended to wear shirts that showed off her cleavage but now that she wasn’t actively trying to attract customers, she wanted to look more modest. Peter had a sleeveless hoodie that he zipped over his mesh tank top, though he started to feel overheated after just a few minutes.

The hoodie got unzipped again as Peter rocked restlessly in place, anxious and eager to see Bucky again. MJ was updating Ned since Peter was too scared to look at his phone, snickering to herself every now and then.

Soon enough, a sleek black car pulled up. The windows were so heavily tinted that they looked black, but neither of them had to guess at who was inside. MJ tucked her phone away and Peter stepped closer to her, seeking out her familiar comfort as his nerves spiked.

The back window rolled down and a familiar face was revealed. Bucky looked at them both before nodding and pushing the door open.

“Come on, we got reservations in twenty minutes,” he said as he shifted to a seat on the other side of the car.

MJ stepped in first then tugged Peter in with her. She sat across from Bucky and not-so-subtly nudged Peter over to sit next to him. The seats were smooth and cool, and Peter was thankful for the air conditioning that let him zip up his hoodie again to hide his chest. Bucky had already seen him shirtless, but he felt awkward about it now.

The car pulled away from the curb as soon as the door was closed. Peter didn’t have a chance to buckle in so he swayed and ended up leaning into Bucky for a moment. He blushed and scooted away so he could clip his seat belt, then sat quietly and picked at the hem of his socks.

“So,” MJ started casually. “You’re who Peter has a crush on.”

“I do not!” Peter insisted, head snapping up so he could glare at MJ. She just grinned at him as Bucky made an amused sound.

“A crush, huh? That’s cute.” Bucky tucked his phone away and looked over to Peter with a smirk. “Have you given my offer any more thought?”

“It’s been like, six hours,” Peter pointed out, feeling a little more confident with MJ there to back him up.

“Plenty of time to think.” Bucky was watching Peter, eyes glued to him as he waited for a proper answer.

“I mean…” Peter sighed and slumped back against his seat. He did want to say yes, to agree and let Bucky carry him off into the sunset like some perfect romantic dream. It just didn’t feel real.

“We need some proof that you’re the real deal,” MJ finally said.

Bucky’s gaze flicked over to her as he raised an eyebrow. He clearly wasn’t someone who was used to being challenged like that, and for a moment, Peter feared for MJ. But then Bucky laughed and Peter’s heart skipped a beat at the sound.

“Conveniently enough, that is why I invited you along tonight. It’s good to know Peter has a friend looking out for him.”

“Two friends,” MJ corrected. “Ned has been diligently mining through the internet for information about you. He is the only reason why I agreed to dinner.”

Peter huffed as a faint blush dusted his cheeks. MJ was acting like her and Ned were his parents, and he was feeling a little embarrassed about that. Sure, he was the youngest out of the three of them, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t handle himself.

“Two friends,” Bucky amended. Then his gaze turned back to Peter and he reached over to gently rub the boy’s back. “You can relax, Peter. I promise my intentions with you are honorable.”

“And what exactly are your intentions?” Peter looked up again, finally meeting Bucky’s eyes.

There was a moment of hesitation and even MJ could feel the electricity hanging between Bucky and Peter.

“I want to take care of you the way you deserve. To spoil you, pamper you, give you anything you could ever want or need.” Bucky sounded honest and there was no nervous tic that would clue Peter in to a lie. But he still couldn’t believe it.

“Why?”

Another pause. Bucky looked torn between brushing it off and turning to a new subject, coming up with some flowery words that didn’t really answer the question, or actually telling the truth. He took a deep breath to steel his nerves, and decided on the last.

“You are beautiful. Handsome, gorgeous. Whatever term you’re most comfortable with. You are like a work of art, and I don’t want to see you waste away in the streets. You deserve so much more and what am I gonna do with all this money anyway? Hell, you could turn me down here and now and I would still send you money every week. I just want you to be happy.”

Peter blinked. He hadn’t expected such an emotional answer, but he felt touched by it. A quick glance over to MJ showed that she felt affected by it too, her eyes wide in surprise. For all the research the three of them had done, they never would’ve thought Bucky was the sentimental sort of guy.

“Oh.” Peter’s voice was faint as he tried to process all that Bucky said.

Bucky swore under his breath and leaned back in his seat. He had moved closer to Peter as he spoke, but now he felt he should give the younger man some space. But to everyone’s surprise, Peter reached out and set a hand on Bucky’s knee before managing a smile.

“I appreciate that, Bucky. I really do. Thank you.”

There was a beat of silence before Bucky cleared his throat and nodded. He gave Peter a tight smile, seeming a little less confident than when they first got in the car. Then the car stopped before anyone could say anything else and Bucky looked away to the window beside him.

“Ah, looks like we’re here. Don’t worry, it isn’t anywhere too fancy. I figured you two wouldn’t really be dressed for that.”

Bucky’s confidence seemed to slowly come back as he smirked and got out of the car. Then he held out a hand for MJ, and reached out again for Peter once she was standing. But unlike with MJ, Bucky didn’t let go of Peter’s hand. And Peter didn’t really mind.

☆☆☆

#winterspider #peter parker #Bucky barnes #bucky/peter #mcu #marvel fic #offer of a lifetime #my writing #hello. this was written weeks ago and i only just now posted it #oops

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wickedgardn · 4 years

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✩ ~ ❀❤︎❀ ~ ✩

The Barber on Fleet Street

Characters; Florence Wood ; Sweeney Todd ; Mrs. Lovett ; Tobias ; Anthony ; Margaret Amelia Wood

A/N- I don’t claim to own these characters except for Florence Wood. Most of the plot is from the actual movie and if need be, I’ll be improvising and writing my own scenes. Also, there will be mentions of gore, though you can’t actually see it, it’s best to put a warning anyway! I’ll be including gifs in the beginning of each chapter so if they happen to include gore, I deeply apologize beforehand. I hope you enjoy my fanfiction! Enjoy!

Chapter 1 - Getting The Job

Florenece’s POV

I’ve lived in London for as long as I can remember. My mother is barely home due to being super busy at the local Apothecary. Father died when I was young, so I barely have any memories of him except for when I look at pictures. Mum says I should try to find some work just incase I ever want to move into my own flat but I also don’t want to leave her by herself. Rent isn’t cheap here in London. Though, mother is right. I should find some decent work. Might actually do me some good. Getting out of bed, I decided to head to the bathroom to take a quick shower before heading out to look for some work. “Mum!!” I say shouting down the stairs. “I hope you have a great day at work! I’m going to get a quick shower and then look for work. I love you!” “Alright, love! I’m heading off to the Apothecary for another long day at work. I wish you luck on your job hunting! I love you, honey.” She said as she walked out the door and locked it heading to leave for work. Finishing up my warm shower, I get out, and get dressed in my black dress that was once my late grandmothers. Walking downstairs, lifting the bottom of my dress to be sure not to trip, I reach for my keys and head out the door.

I walk past many run down businesses that were once open but sadly shut down due to not getting customers to come in. Coming up, I see this quaint little shop that has gold writing sprawled above the door, ‘Mrs. Lovett’s Meat Pies.’ I walk in and hear a bell ding as the door opens, “Is that a customer I hear coming into my shop?” A short woman in a dark red dress with messy hair. “Well, not exactly. I’ve just been job hunting and I wanted to see if you were hiring!” I said to her whilst sitting down at one of the tables by the window. “Now that you mention it, I could actually use more help with my bakehouse. It’s quite difficult to make the pies and then have to lug them down. If you’re willing to walk up and down the steps daily then, by all means, you’re welcome to help me.” She says walking to the counter starting to roll the dough to make her pies. “I’m Mrs. Lovett, by the way, deary.” She said as she wiped the flour off her hands and holding it out. “I’m Florence Wood. I’d have the pleasure of working for you! Anything I can do to help out!” I replied shaking her hand as well.

Mrs. Lovett got back to rolling the dough, I grabbed an apron off the rack and took the already made pies down to the bakehouse. Mrs. Lovett followed behind me to show me out to get started. I placed the tray in the furnace and waited fifteen minutes for the pies to finish up. I, carefully, took the finished pies out of the furnace. I walk back up the stairs and heard the door bell ding. “A customer!!” Mrs. Lovett shouted. I placed the tray of finished pies on the counter. I took one off the tray and placed it on a plate for the man sitting at the table. He took a bite of the pie and tried to hold back a gag. I grabbed him an ale but Mrs. Lovett gave him some Gin instead. We all walked into the living room right off the shop’s seating area and Mrs. Lovett recognized him. “So it is you, Benjamin Barker.” Mrs. Lovett said in awe as the man stood up. “Where is Lucy? Where is my wife?” Barker said sounding upset. Mrs. Lovett informed him that his wife, Lucy, poisoned herself with arsenic and that the judge has his daughter. “I can’t say the years have been particularly kind to you, Mr. Barker.” Lovett said. “Not Barker. That man’s dead. It’s Todd now, Sweeney Todd. He will have his revenge.” Sweeney said as he took his coat off and threw it on the couch next to him.

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed the first chapter of my Sweeney Todd fanfiction. I’ll immediately get started on the next chapter. I will be including summaries of what happened in this chapter, at the beginning of the next chapter that way if I haven’t uploaded for awhile you can get a recap as to what happened. I’ll see you all in the next chapter! :)

#sweeney todd #mrs lovett #judge turpin #demon barber of fleet street #oc #au #fanfic #fandom #fanfiction #johnny depp #helena bonham carter #jamie campbell bower #alan rickman #pirelli #beadle bamford #anthony

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benebathroomsuk · 3 years

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bestqualitybathrooms11world · 3 years

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chroniccombustion · 4 years

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Phantom Limbs - pt. 2

From “And a Week is All I Need (To Fall in Love With You)“, part of @souyoweek2020

Genre: supernatural, ghosts and hauntings, bittersweet pre-romance, M/M Rated: T Characters: Hanamura Yosuke, Souji Seta (Yu Narukami), memories of Nanako Warnings: implied/referenced past suicide in pt. 2 Status: drabble collection, incomplete

<- previous chapter | next chapter -> (unavailable)

(prompts have been done out of order from here on out; previous chapter was day 4)

Ogaki “Granny” Kaede is a reference to Granny Okagi from ‘My Neighbor Totoro,’ with her given name taken from Priestess Kaede from Inuyasha~

Day 4 6: Scent or Stormy

After the ghostly stranger vanishes, Yosuke only hangs around long enough to change his clothes and throw his pajamas into a sling bag with his wallet, charger, and phone, before grabbing his keys and bolting out the door. There is no way he's sleeping in that apartment tonight.

Yosuke stays in a cheap hotel down the street.

He pauses just inside the front door of the apartment building to do a quick search on his phone for the nearest affordable place to stay; luckily there's one not too far from where he is. He doesn't even bother trying to call a cab, he just sprints on out into the rain and books it down the sidewalk like he's being pursued. Hell, for all he knows, he might be. He gets one heck of an odd (albeit sympathetic) look from the lady behind the check-in desk, and while under normal circumstances he might feel self-conscious, right now he honestly couldn't care less about the way her brow quirks at his disheveled, drowned-rat aesthetic. He simply slaps his card down on the counter with a wet and shaking hand, then thanks her as she hands him his key and points him up the stairs.

Yosuke climbs into the hottest shower he's ever taken and stares at the wall in shock until his skin turns pink.

---

The next morning dawns bright and misty, with the sun peaking through the gloom and chasing away all that's left of the rain from before. It's at least something pretty to look at after hardly sleeping for the scant remainder of the night, he tells himself as he's gathering his clothes back up from where he'd hung them to dry in the bathroom. He's not quite sure he really wants to go back home at this point, but if he doesn't vacate the hotel room pretty soon they'll charge him for another night, and if that's going to happen then he'd need to go back anyway to pack an actual away bag. So, for now at least, he's going to try and brave the apartment while he has as much daylight as he can possibly get – and save another hit to his wallet if he can.

He trudges back to the apartment building and takes his sweet, sweet time getting up to his floor, dragging his feet in the stairwell to the point of almost tripping over them. It's as he's hesitating near his door, key in the lock but unturned, that he hears a voice behind him.

“Oh! Well hello there, dear, I don't believe we've met yet.”

Yosuke looks up to see an elderly woman in a periwinkle dress, grey hair pulled back into a tight bun and held in place by a wide white bandana. Her back is hunched slightly with age, and while her face is heavily wrinkled and sports a large mole just where her left eyebrow starts, her eyes are sharp and kindly – as is the warm smile stretching across her features. Near her feet are an array of plastic grocery bags; in her hand is a set of keys, no doubt for the door to the apartment directly to Yosuke's left, which means she is likely his neighbor. He blinks at her for a moment, exhausted and bedraggled in more ways than one, but finds that no, he still doesn't recognize her. (Then again, he hasn't really met too many of his neighbors – he's been too busy trying to finish settling in.)

He swallows to unstick his weary tongue from the roof of his mouth. “N...no, we haven't,” he manages, though it's rough and crackly and very much not the kind of first impression he was hoping to make. He clears his throat to try and force himself into some semblance of being human again, rolling his shoulders to try and stand a little straighter. “Hanamura Yosuke,” he introduces, “I just moved in about three weeks ago.”

The old woman smiles a little wider. “Such a polite young man,” she says approvingly. “Ogaki Kaede – but call me 'Granny,' won't you?” She chuckles. “Nearly everyone does. I don't think I'd even remember to respond to my actual name anymore, if someone were to use it.”

Dumbly, Yosuke just nods; he's far too tired and far too rattled still from last night to properly interact with other human beings. As he's standing there, staring blankly at his neighbor while continuing to not unlock his apartment, 'Granny' unlocks her own. With a low grunt she tucks her keys into the pocket of her dress and slowly bends down to gather up her shopping bags.

It's as perfect an excuse to continue stalling as any, and it's also a way to make a better first impression, so Yosuke takes two long steps closer and hovers near the old woman's side. “Can I help?” he asks quietly, throat still a little rough from dashing through the rain to the hotel.

Granny gives him another warm smile. “Well thank you, that'd be lovely.” She takes a step out of his way and Yosuke carefully grabs what bags he can carry; he loops the handles of ones that he can't over his forearms.

“Come in, come in,” she says as she pauses near the door to toe off her shoes before stepping aside to let Yosuke in. “Would you like to stay for some tea, dear? You helped me get the bags in, it's the least I can do.”

“Uhhh,” he drawls, brain lagging. On the one hand he doesn't know how much energy he has left to spend on polite small talk with his neighbor; on the other, even if she winds up trapping him there for a couple of hours showing him pictures of her grandkids or whatever, then it's a few hours more that he doesn't have to constantly feel like looking over his shoulder in his own home. Though he admits that part might be a double-edged sword, considering he would rather brave his apartment while it's still daylight, rather than lose precious hours of sun.

He's still trying to come up with an answer when Granny looks up at him with a raised brow, eyes knowing, and says, “It's quite alright, dear, I'm not going to be offended if you say no.” She chuckles and takes the bags from Yosuke's hands. “I will say, though,” she says as she begins tottering over to the little kitchen space identical to his own, just set against the opposite wall; “...you didn't seem in too much of a hurry to get back home.” Wrinkled hands set the bags down on the counter and she gives him another look with eyes that know far too much. “Could almost say you looked like you'd seen a ghost.”

Yosuke's head snaps up, amber eyes going wide as his heart doubles its beating for a split second. “Wha—but—huh?” Several sounds try to make their way out of his face at once, none of them succeeding. It's such a specific thing to say, and yes, it's a figure of speech, so it's not like she'd straight up said anything direct, but of all the figures of speech to use here, and the glint in her eyes. Yosuke closes his gaping mouth so quickly his teeth click together, and all the while, Granny's shoulders are shaking with silent laughter.

“I thought as much,” she says, taking the tea kettle down from the cabinet above her head. She turns on the faucet and starts filling the kettle up with water. “When you live in one place long enough you start to become familiar with the patterns of the building.” She taps at her temple, smirking a bit. “Not just the people, those can change over time – someone has a baby, someone gets divorced, things like that – but the building? No, the building and its rooms are quite set in their routines.”

Yosuke just kind of stands there, staring at her as his brain tries to play catch up while she putters about putting her groceries away and a faint string of steam begins to drift from the kettle. Eventually Granny just huffs in amusement and, shutting the cupboard door on the last of her things, she shuffles back over and gently puts a hand on Yosuke's arm. “You've seen him, haven't you, dear? The boy at the window?”

Yosuke swallows hard, nodding slowly.

She gives him a nod in return. “Why don't you come and sit down?” she says softly, patting his arm. He finally slips off his shoes and she leads him further into the living room over to the couch. The kettle whistles in the kitchen.

“I'm sorry,” Yosuke whispers, still trying for normalcy as his neighbor turns around to heed the call of the kettle. “I... I don't mean to impose...”

But Granny just waves her hand dismissively and shuts off the stove. “Shush, you're not imposing on anyone.” A few moments pass and she shuffles back over with a little tray, setting it down on the low table she'd seated her guest at. She sits opposite him and busies herself with the teapot and cups. “You're not the first to see him,” she says after a short silence; her smile holds a hint of sadness as she looks back up at him. “My grandson Kanta lived there for a bit while he was in college. He moved out only a month or so before you moved in, actually.” She points over to a few framed photos on the wall behind the small couch at Yosuke's back, one of which is of Granny and a lanky young man with short, short black hair that Yosuke can only assume is Kanta. Granny chuckles warmly, but her eyes hold that same odd melancholy. “Every time there was a storm during finals week, Kan-chan would come over here and pull his all-nighters at my place; even slept on the couch. He said it felt like he was intruding on something private whenever it rained.”

Granny pauses in her talking to take a long drink of her tea. In the quiet, Yosuke holds his own cup with both hands, staring down into the steaming liquid in thought, and letting the warmth of the porcelain ground him as it seeps into the palms of his hands. He pulls in a slow, deep breath as Granny's cup makes contact with the surface of the table once again.

“...What happened in the apartment?” he asks her quietly. He can feel his exhaustion from the night before still lingering in his bones. The real problem, though, isn't just the fear he'd felt, the lack of sleep, the adrenaline that had kept him going as he'd sprinted though the rain – it's the last few seconds of the stranger's existence in Yosuke's living room that's been playing on loop through his head like a damaged cassette tape. He's never seen anyone with an expression so helplessly lost, so utterly afraid and confused, since his crush back in high school had died. Yosuke remembers seeing the way her little brother's face had twisted at the funeral – just for a moment, when he thought that no one else was looking – and the image has been burned into a sad, hollow place inside Yosuke's his mind ever since. He'd hoped he'd never have to see anything as devoid of hope ever again.

But then he had, and it's left him cold in a way that nothing seems to help – not the burning shower in the hotel, nor the tea stinging his hands through the sides of the cup.

On the other side of the table, Granny hums. “Well,” she starts, drawing out the sound as if she's thinking. “I don't really know the whole of it, but before Kan-chan came to live next door there was another boy named... Oh, what was it.” She puts a knuckle to her lips for a moment, muttering to herself as she tries to recall the name. “Seta, I believe it was,” she finally says; “Wonderfully kind young man, said he was getting ready to start college in the fall.” Her frown deepens. “He was always alone, though; I think the only time I ever saw anyone next door besides him was the day he arrived, and even then it just looked like a pair of hired movers.”

Granny sighs from one side of her mouth, an odd, unrecognizable emotion coming to rest in the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. She takes another long, deliberate drink of her tea. When she sets it down again, there is a look of grief and deep regret set into the lines of her face, and her lips press into a harsh, thin line as her eyes begin to mist over. With painful slowness she turns to stare over at her own sliding glass door.

“...They found his body on the sidewalk not even a year after he moved in,” she whispers. “A suicide, they labeled it; said he must have jumped from the balcony somewhere around 3:00, 3:30 in the morning.”

Her shoulders slump. “It was storming so badly that no one even heard him land...”

---

Yosuke winds up staying with Granny until late afternoon, unable to leave a kindly old woman alone with her sorrowful memories after that. He does eventually wander back to his own apartment, the shadows having just begun to shift as he leaves, but this time there is no fear, no panic or racing heartbeat. Instead, there is only a quiet kind of melancholy that makes him drag his feet and lean heavily against the front door as he closes it behind him. He stares unseeing into the slowly-darkening interior of his home and lets out a long, quiet lungful of breath through his nose.

“...Are you here?” he calls softly into the silence of the room.

The silence does not answer.

It doesn't answer later that night, either, as Yosuke sits on the carpet and watches the cloudless, moonlit night outside the glass of his sliding door. Nor does it answer the next night, or the next one, or even the next. It continues not to answer for a week's worth of setting suns as they bring nothing but clear and storm-less skies.

#fanfic #Persona 4 #souyoweek2020 #cw suicide mention #souyo #souji seta #yu narukami #yosuke hanamura #p4 #fanfiction

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mimymomo · 5 years

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Orphydice/Weathering With You AU Part 1

Okay this AU has been bugging me all night so I have to scream about it to my unknowing followers. (Damn it Mo, not another AU! You don’t have time for this!!) Do not be alarmed inner me, this AU will mostly be confined to a list! This one in fact! Or another one is this one does on too long...

I know for a fact that no one in this fandom saw this movie so I’ll try to explain it as best as I can here:

Eurydice was a runaway. Even at the bitter age of 16, she knew what kind of situation she was in and it wasn’t a good one. Neglectful parents, living in a small town where everyone knew one another’s business but that didn’t mean they were gonna help you with shit.

She tried to get emancipated once, saved up a bunch of money from side temp jobs between school but that plan ended up dead in the water before she could jump off the diving board. Her parents found and stole her savings, her hard-earned money. They gave her hell for it, going around telling stores, not to hire their “problem child” and she couldn’t find a permanent job afterward.

So she ran. Hopped on a bus and set out for the city. While traveling, the weather got bad. The weather had been doing that more and more recently. Sure it was April and storms happened, but not violent snowstorms that lasted days and frozen over lakes and roads, inches piling high along street-sides. Or rain showers the flooded fields and drowned basements. Thunder and lightning shaking homes and striking trees. Winds sweeping children off their feet, soaring in the sky like a tangled kite.

One such storm occurred during the journey, heavy rains and violent winds, forcing the driver to make an emergency stop at a motel and wait out the storm. As Eurydice steps off the bus, one of her bags (a small drawstring sack) gets swept up in the wind aim the direction of the street and she gives chase. As she reaches down to grab her bag, she sees a light in the corner of her eyes, shining bright and drawing closer, closer.

Suddenly she’s yanked back as a honking car zooms by. She’s being held snug against someone’s chest, someone who smells of something floral and a hint of alcohol. “Gotta be careful, girl. Don’t wanna be turned into a pancake now do ya?”

Eurydice turns around and freezes- the woman is beautiful: long ankle-length dress the shade of healthy green grass, her brown curly hair is braided back, flowers of different colors twisted in the mix. Her eyes warm and attentive. She’s carrying a small bag herself, with what looks like a few bottles of wine sticking out the top.

She introduces herself as Persephone and before Eurydice knows it, they’re sharing a room together. Eurydice tried to protest but the woman clad in green insist already arranging a room with a double bed. A few hours later, they’re showered and laying on their beds, room service spread out on trays and Seph half finished with a crack open bottle.

Persephone tells Eurydice she was visiting her mother up north (her mom apparently owns a vineyard) however her trip was cut short when her husband demanded (her words) her to return. “That man,” Seph curses drunkenly, waving her bottle, the liquid sloshing around the funneled glass. Eurydice’s only know Seph for a few hours but she’s already enamored with the woman and her attitude.

The next day when they arrive at the station, Seph offers Eurydice a business with her information on it: “Anthomania” in flowery lettering along with an address and phone number. A flower shop.

“I never asked but what brings you to the city? I can tell from your expression that you’ve never been here before.” Eurydice wasn’t ready for that question. “Oh just visiting, uhh some...relatives! Yeah, relatives! For spring break.” Seph rolls her eyes, not believing the girl for a moment but deciding to play along anyway, “so you know where you’re heading then?” Eurydice nods and they separate.

The first week is a struggle. No one will hire her with her limitations (no resume/references, she’s underage and constantly asked where she should be in school, she doesn’t have an address nor her social security number, and she can’t give out all her information in fear of her name popping up on a missing child’s list). So to put it lightly...she’s kinda screwed. She’s been staying in a really cheap hostel living off corner store food. She gets in trouble for loitering a few times and once while rummaging through some trash she came across a gun and decides to keep it for safety reasons (this will be important later)

One day, thinking she’s walking into a job site, she accidentally stumbles into an old, rundown bar. There’s barely anyone in there besides two people sitting at a table in the far corner, a man passed out at the counter. The air smells musky, traces of pungent alcohol fill the air and also the smell of someone buttery. Eurydice’s stomach growls. She didn’t have money to spare on breakfast or lunch recently. She knows she shouldn’t but she takes a seat at one of the tables, her back facing the bar counter. She contemplates what she’s doing and maybe if she should go home. But that thought disappears just as quickly as it showed up.

Out of nowhere, a tray of two burger sliders and a basket of fries are set down in front of her, followed by a glass of water. Eurydice whips her head and is met with two hazel eyes, the prettiest eyes she’s ever seen. The boy is young but has a charm to him. Lanky and tall, his brown hair sticks up to the sky as if his fingers had just run through them. “Sorry if I’m overstepping but you looked hungry and lost so...” his voice is soft and awkward as hell, but she finds it endearing. “Also Mr. Hermes will be back soon and he probably won’t like seeing someone underage so I’d eat that quick.” “How do you know I’m underage?” Eurydice shoots back with a raised brow. The boy flushes pink, blood floods his cheeks, ears, and neck, “oh! I’m sorry! I just thought-”

Eurydice laughs, “I messing with you.” “Ohhh...okay,” the boy smiles, scratching lightly at his cheek. Eurydice finds herself fighting a blush as well. ‘Why is he so cute??’ “I can’t pay for this.” The boy waves her concerns off, “it’s on the house.”

Before she can argue and refuse, a customer yells for around round and the boy begins to shuffle away. “Thank you,” Eurydice butts in, “for the food, I mean.” The boy grins and walks away.

That burger and fries were the best food she’s had in years.

The next day, she finds herself standing outside Anthomania, the brick building sits on corner, wide windows that let you see completely inside the shop. It’s flowers, everywhere- flowers along the walls, in stands amidst the floors, in pots, small and large, arranged bouquets in buckets near the front. Eurydice steps in and is overwhelmed by the sweet scent, sunlight bleeding in from the washed windows. What catches her eye is a small bouquet of carnations: reds, pinks, and whites. “Didn’t expect to see you here so soon.”

Eurydice jumps and spins around to see Persephone with her arms crossed, her green dress replaced with a garden styled apron. The two catch up and Seph calls Eurydice out for lying about visiting relatives. Eurydice stays the rest of the workday and later as Seph is closing up shop, she intends to walk about to her hostel room but Seph offers her a ride. Once the get there Seph forces her to grab her things and pays the bill. And drives her to her place.

It’s huge, a mansion guarded by a gate at the edge of town. The inside is just as beautiful as the outside but eerily quiet and somehow suffocating in a way. She meets Seph’s husband, Hades. He works as a CEO of some company, mining? Electric? Eurydice doesn’t know. He doesn’t seem particularly fond of her especially after Persephone announces that girl would be staying with them for now on and being working as an assistant/apprentice at her flower shop. Hades fights her on this but the woman wins out in the end.

As the days go on Eurydice notices how dysfunctional the couple are. They definitely love each other but...oof. Eurydice, when she’s not working her shifts, starts cooking meals and cleaning around the house and starts winning over the man of the house and the three slowly start to become a sort of family in the following month.

One day a customer comes into the flower shop, bracing the stormy weather. He’s an older gentleman wearing a silver suit with dark skin and gray hair. He’s coughing hard but still cheery. Seph and the man catch up and Eurydice figures they must be close. She doesn’t mean to eavesdrop but she hears them talking about something crazy: an urban legend of a child blessed by the gods who can control the weather. She thinks it’s stupid and doesn’t realize she said that fact out loud.

“Maybe child but you never know,” the man chuckles. Seph laughs at Eurydice’s shocked face, “brother, this is Eurydice. She’s working for me as an apprentice as sorts.” The man shakes her hand and begins to cough harshly again. “You should really go and get that checked out,” Persephone persists. The man waves her off, “I’m aight, just a little cough from the weather. Plus money’s been tight with the bar and all plus the boy.” He buys a few bouquets to be delivered next week and leaves. Eurydice ponders about why he said, ‘it’s impossible,’ and she leaves it there.

She’s the one who has to make the delivery. Turns out it’s the same bar she met that boy at. She hesitantly walks inside hoping to see the boy but no dice. She drops off the flowers and says hello to the man who she still doesn’t know the name of and heads out. Halfway back to Anthomania she sees something that catches her eye, no, someone. ‘It’s that boy!’ He’s being dragged by two older men, his face nervous. She can instantly tell something is wrong. She follows them and sees them leading him down a dark alley in the direction of a shady building. Before she realizes she already running. She grabs the boy's hand and they’re off.

The two men chase after them and corner them, knocking Eurydice to the ground. Eurydice reaches into her bag and pulls out the gun. The men at first think it’s a fake and start to roughhouse the boy saying that he set them up and will have to pay which causes Eurydice’s blood to boil. She grips the gun tightly, her fingertips turning white, she trembles and her vision goes hazy from rain and adrenaline, then suddenly...bam!

A shot gets fired off.

No one was hit but everyone is shocked. The boy is surprisingly the first to recover and he pulls Eurydice to her feet and they run away.

The escape to an abandoned half-underground train station. Trains covered in moss and plant life lay there rusty as sunlight barely shines through dirty grime-covered windows. Despite its uncleanliness, there’s something magical about this place, Eurydice can feel it in her bones.

“Why did you do that? Where did you get the gun?” the boy asks, huffing and puffing, athleticism is not one of his strong suits. “I thought you were in trouble,” Eurydice fights back. “And I found it.” The boy dips his head, “my guardian is sick but he always says that he doesn’t have the money to spare to get checked out. I needed to make some extra money and they promised me a well-paying job at this not exactly savory club if I performed there.”

Eurydice gapes, she has so many thoughts running through her head she doesn’t know where to start so she just says, “you’re a performer?” The smiles, “yup, I sing and play guitar. Plus I write my own music. I never introduced myself huh? I’m Orpheus.” “Eurydice.”

“Do you want to see something cool?” Orpheus asks, acting as if the previous incident with the gun didn’t just happen. “I mean, sure but it’s kinda a mess out there,” Eurydice points out. Orpheus ignores her and offers out his hand. Eurydice takes it and they walk back to the entrance.

When they reach the outside, the sky is gray and cloudy. Rain and sleet pour from the sky mixing with the dirty dusting of snow on the ground.

“Would you like the weather to be better?” Orpheus asks. “I mean of course I would,” Eurydice shrugs, “but I doubt that’ll happen anytime soon.”

“I don’t know,” Orpheus says, his eyes shut lightly. “I think the weather can surprise you. Just watch.” Eurydice looks around not sure where she should be looking until...

“La, la la la, la la la~!” A heavenly voice rings out, echoing among the buildings.

Suddenly the rain stops and the clouds part and disappear from the sky. Rays of sunlight breach out coolers by a rich sea of blue. The sun...Eurydice hadn’t seen the sun in so long.

“Oh my god, you’re a weather child! You can control the weather!” Eurydice screams, turning to Orpheus who finishes his song as a small red flower appears in his palm. A red carnation.

He offers her the flower and smiles. “Yeah, I guess you could say that I am.”

...

Wow, I typed all of this and only got like...1/3 of the way into the movie...so part 2 coming soon? I love this movie and subsequent au so it’ll probably be out tomorrow if people want it?

#hadestown #orphydice #orpheus x eurydice #weathering with you au #my writing

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