#every time i draw him it dissolves into silly expressions moments

[chatonyant]

yknow i was trying to figure out how to draw him pretty and then immediately got sidetracked into drawing him as a bastard as the author intended.

[flamingo-bubbles]

@fontasticcrablettes Wrote a lovely little spicy Flystelle fic and it made me want to do the same! But, uh, my brain died in the middle of it and I haven't touched it since I first wrote it after reading his fic.

But there's so little Flystelle stuff! And even less spicy stuff for them!! So I will share this half-shred of a story because there needs to be more of them in the world!!!

-----

Courting was like a dance. The steps were intricate, deliberate, important - to ignore them was to invite the searing judgment of every noble down onto your head. If your transgression was severe enough, no title or rank could save you.

Flynn knew all this. It had been drilled into his head since the first day he emerged into the noble quarter as a freshly minted knight. Like many customs of the upper class, the rules were as arbitrary as they were ironclad. He had to be constantly aware, always diligent.

"Flynn…"

The breathy, inviting sound of his name on the crown princess' lips yanked him back to the reality of the moment. Their bodies entangled in her bed; clothing thrown to the ground in a flurry of hot, hungry kisses and moans; the sharp rise and fall of Estellise's breast with each ragged breath. Flynn's body reacted all too readily to the princess lying beneath him.

He was definitely courting her wrong, but she was making it difficult to care.

"Princess Estellise…" he whispered her name back with just as much desire, but the voice of reason forever present at the back of his mind was quick to add, "...Are you sure about this?"

He watched as her expression softened into a smile. However, the desire in her eyes burned just as clearly. Flynn's breath caught in his throat and dissolved into a strangled moan as Estellise wound her arms around his neck. Gentle pressure was applied to Flynn's neck, drawing his body into her and another moan from his soul.

"I am," She responded plainly and clearly.

"B-But what about all the customs? The rules?" He forced himself to speak, but the heat of her hands curiously exploring the taut muscles of his back was making it horribly difficult to focus.

"They're silly. We love each other. There aren't any rules in that."

As she spoke, her hands grew more bold, more curious. Flynn felt her rough, short nails and callused fingertips trace down his chest, stopping just before his hips. He wanted to focus on every sensation all at once, but his brain was quickly melting to nothing but his baser instincts.

"You make a-" he inhaled sharply as a stray finger explored a little bit lower, "a compelling argument."

The thick air between them was softened by Estellise's gentle giggle. She leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on Flynm's lips. He wished he could claim his body's reaction was just as chaste.

"Thank you! My tutors in statesmanship would be very pleased to hear the compliment."

"Perhaps, but I don't believe I shall ever give it to them. It would require…certain explanations."

His reward for his half-hearted joke was another of Estellise's giggles. As the mood lightened further still, he thought with vague disappointment that the night might end with nothing happening. However, her hands didn't stop their exploration, her boundless curiosity extending to the bedroom as well. 

Rather than push the situation forward, Flynn let her take her time, allowing his body to react without any attempts to hide it. As she found several sensitive spots that Flynn hadn't even been aware of, the mood in the room once more dipped dangerously toward desire.

"P-Princess Estellise…" Flynn whined as she applied pressure in another new location, his cheeks and body burning, "M-My apologies. Please. I need…more"

"Oh! Of course! Please, allow me."

—-----

And then they totally banged, you guys.

[genshingarbage]

Don’t Say Goodbye. || One-Shots ||

I am just in a mood to create broken hearts right now it would appear, this is just a few one-shots on a couple of the boys and my take on how they would act with there s/o dying in their arms due to various reasons based on the character i am writing for. - Mod Diluc

Diluc

The sound of yells grew distant as the vision began to blur from your eyes. The only sensation you could still feel was the tight grasp of your hand in the larger one wrapped round it squeezing it. Diluc was holding you as you laid there on the muddy dirt, resting your bloody and broken body on his legs. Cradling you like a new born while shaking back and forth, trembling in traumatic disbelief over what was taking place before him.

His eyes were swelling with tears threatening to break out and spill down his cheeks, he kept kissing your weak hand gently, each kiss being dragged out longer than the one before, shaky shushes passing his lips in a frail attempt to soothe your weakening body. You'd been adventuring alone again for several weeks away from Mondstat and The Dawn Winery.

You didn't think much of it as you often left for long adventuring trips, bringing back goofy and silly souvenirs for your beloved Diluc, you just didn't realise this time around you'd be ambushed by the Fatui on your long trek back to his winery. Having been unbeknownst to you fatally wounded, you managed to break free and escape, bleeding heavily from your right side, shakily sprinting to the only place you knew could be a safe haven, Dilucs winery.

You'd fallen to the ground in a crumpled heap not barely a few seconds after Diluc spotting you running down the dusty and dirty road. He sprinted to you eyes wide yelling as loud as his vocal chords would physically let him. "Y/N! No!" He skidded and slumped down into the dirt himself, tugging you carefully but quickly into his lap muttering 'No' over and over in rapid breaths. And now you were where you were at, the life slowly but surely leaving you while all you could feel was Dilucs gentle kissing lips and warming embrace.

Does he know how much you love him? Did ever know how much he meant to you? Oh no... the souvenir you'd found for him... you dropped it back when you was ambushed... he would've loved it so much... however likewise with him to you, did you know how much you meant to him? How truly happy he was that he'd finally found someone he could trust and give his life to. Had he ever even said he loves you back? All these questions that were going to be left unanswered to the both of you.

Still trembling he watched as your light dimmed in your eyes, leaning his head down he softly placed a kiss against your unresponsive lips, parting ever so slightly to rest his forehead against yours and whimpering in a broken tone. "I love you, Y/N" When he lifted his head back up he felt the air being squeezed out of his lungs to see your eyes were now closed and there was no longer movement in your body.

He looked up at the night sky, the stars twinkling so beautifully over such a devastating and tragic moment. Closing his eyes he silently prayed the gods take good care of you up there till he can finally be there with you. Lifting up slowly with your now lifeless body bridal style in his arms he began to walk back to his winery, his expression stern and showing no pain. But it was all a facade for inside he was crying and screaming to the heavens and hell for having let this happen to you.

"They will pay Y/N, I promise you. I'll see you again soon; someday."

Childe

The rain was pouring heavily, hitting angrily against the cold hard concrete, the drops splashing up and back down as they landed with such impact. You were wet and cold, but your body had been going numb for minutes now as the blood was leaving your body so quickly. You shakily looked round to see the last attacker being cut down to the floor by your one and only love, Ajax.

The unknown man's body hadn't even hit the floor by the time Ajax had thrown his weapons down and rushed to your side. "Oi oi, come on now, look alive. More will be coming soon." He let out a nervous laugh not wanting to believe what he was seeing in front of him right now. You'd only gone out for a little drink and joke about in the beautiful rainy day, you both enjoyed running around in the rain so much after all. He tapped your cheek gently trying to keep you conscious as he could see your focus leaving you as fast as your blood was.

He pressed his hand against the open wound in your chest; a pitiful attempt to try slow the bleeding. You cursed yourself for not being more alert of your surroundings when that man crept up behind you and ambushed you by surprise. He shook his head vigorously side to side. His mask hiding most of the unbearable pain behind it. He should've known better than to think it was safe to come back to Liyue so soon after having caused such chaos.

Why the fuck did they have to go for you both though, you were innocent from all this it was him they wanted so why, why?! Why you?! He made a soft 'Tsk' sound from his mouth as he choked back the tears while looking at you. You had little vision left, little time too, but with what little strength you had remaining you lifted your hand up gently and pulled his mask off. Wanting to see his face one last time before you're gone from this world.

Exposing his damp cheeks and red eyes to you, you were able to form the smallest smile at him. "Don't... d-don't leave me Y/N, please..." his voice was barely a whisper now as he remained stiff by your side. "I won't..." You coughed back gently, you didn't even try to sound believable with that; you both knew it was a lie and you were on your way out with only seconds to spare.

You were his everything, he knew you was too good for him from the very beginning, yet you was determined to always be by his side. He knew he was a bad guy, a villain, but with you by his side he was able to feel like someone's hero. You meant fucking everything to him so why did someone so pure have to be taken so soon. You coughed gently once more before choosing your last words carefully, knowing they were to be your last.

"Childe- Ajax, you're not a bad guy. I have and will always love you..." Your voice faded into a whisper and then... nothing. Your eyes closed and your hand that had been against his cheek was now limp, the only reason it was still in its prior place was because Childe himself had been applying slight pressure to keep it there. You were gone now, at rest and probably somewhere much better and further away from this hell.

He looked at your resting face just wishing you'd open your eyes again and say it was all just a big terrible joke. But that wasn't the case, however his broken and torn expression immediately dissolved when he heard the rapid steps growing louder. "There he is! Apprehend him now!" One of the guards shouted to the several others. He quietly apologised to your resting form, letting your hand leave his face and finally rest with the rest of your body, he was also sorry as he wasn't gonna be able to give you the burial you deserved, he wasn't gonna be able to use that ring he'd bought you to propose with, and unknowing to him, you wasn't gonna be able to tell him the good news that he would've been a dad.

He lifted up slowly, hair now soaked and water droplets falling from all over his body. The blood leaving your body had began to swirl and dance with the water pooling against the concrete as the heavy rain showed no signs of slowing down. His mask back in his hand before it found its way back on his face, turning and stepping over to his slung down blades and kicking them up into the air grabbing them. Parting his knees swiftly and getting into his battle ready stance. The mask made him look like the bad guy every one claimed him to be, but underneath was the most broken and tormented boy that they'll never know.

"I'll always love you too Y/N, I am sorry but you're wrong, I've always been a bad guy, I just... I tried to be a better one for you."

Xiao

The sky was ablaze, organe and yellow flickering all over, ember floating up and down softly. It was so hot; unbearably so as you were laying on the wooden floor of the top balcony at the Wangshu Inn, blood spilling out of you and soaking the wood all around you. The fire was growing dangerously closer, but did it matter now? You would be dead in a couple more minutes away.

Had everyone escaped the Inn at least? Was everyone safe? You hoped they were. But it was then you felt an instant gust of cold wind wail past you like a roaring monster and die down the flames that had been encircling you and drawing ever so closer. Your vision was nearly gone and it was hard to make out anything except the smoke and fire, but those blue oni mask eyes were unmistakable, Xiao was above you right now.

His hand was hovering over your cheek, still scared that even now he may cause you more pain than comfort in your fleeting moments. "Y/N wake up. Don't be defeated so easily, this is truly pathetic, even for your standards." Harsh words as always, you knew he was sad and just lashing out, his words were cracking and his voice was wavering in its tone. Was that a sniffle? It was hard to make out among the crackling fire destroying the walls and wood around you and his mask muttering and muffling his already quiet words.

Why did they go for you? They wanted him to become nothing anymore, to just slip away and leave the entire history of Liyue to them. Leave the nation built under Rex Lapis to the incapable feeble hands of mortals. He couldn't ever allow that, he refused to back down so easily. But this? Surprise attacking the Inn and burning it down while taking the only mortal who held something to him away? How sick and lowly of them.

You went to speak but all you could muster was a cough as blood spat out your mouth across your bottom lip, your time was fading fast. He swallowed down and removed his mask, a shake in his hand as he did so, resting his proper gaze on your form one last time, allowing you to see him in his first ever vulnerable state, tears slowly falling from his face, letting his hand slide across your cheek gently, swiping the blood off your soft delicate lip. Why did it hurt him so bad? Why was this reaching so deep within him?

All those times he'd sighed and disappeared to get away from you, all those eye-rolls to your silly jokes and huffs to your tedious and pointless tasks. Why did he feel an ache in his throat when he thought about how he won't ever get to experience those annoying moments again? What was this? It couldn't be. Had he truly fallen in love with a mortal? Impossible, but what else could explain this gut wrenching feeling he had swirling inside him.

Everything was crumbling apart around him but his focus remained on you as you looked at him with those eyes, those same eyes that often stared at him with hope and admiration, now they stared with soft kindness and fleeting wishes. If this was love then he wasn't ready to have it taken from him so soon, but what could he do except watch as you left this world. He gritted his teeth together and his hand clenched tightly round his blood stained spear. This was truly unforgivable. If only he had killed those monsters sooner, got to you quicker... maybe then he could've saved you.

"I..." he began to stutter gentle words out while stroking his thumb delicately across your cheek, why hadn't he just swallowed his pride and touched you sooner? Why hadn't he just admitted this to himself quicker and embraced you. You had always been there for him despite his many harsh rejections, you were nothing but kind and truthful, loyal and honest to him and now? He resented himself for not having taken the chance to love that he had had in his grip for so long. Your vision was gone now and your ears were following quickly behind. "I... Y/N..."

Just spit it out already, before the time runs out for you- "Y/N I love you..." he looked at your face searching for a response but you were gone now. The gods had given you all the time they could spare and unfortunately it wasn't long enough to Xiao. It wasn't fair. He couldn't even let you know how he truly felt before you were ripped from him. Tears rolled down his face faster now, but the sorrow and pain he felt quickly welded into anger and inner rage boiling at the highest temperature.

He frowned deeply, lifting up from your body, hiding his broken expression behind his oni mask once again, shakily breathing in with a deep sigh, the shake in his hands slowly dissolving as his mind set itself onto a new mission, he turned and walked to the banister of the balcony and swiftly lifted up onto the top, looking over the landscape around him as the only place he'd truly ever known as home was burning to ash around him. He turned round taking one last longing look at your lifeless form and then leapt high into the air soaring through the skies, straight for Liyue.

You never wanted this, he knew that, you'd never want him to cause a war over your death, but you wasn't here to talk reason into him anymore. He was never gonna see your annoyingly beautiful face again, and this was all Liyues fault. They had to pay, and if that meant causing a war between humans and Adepti... then so be it.

"Forgive me Y/N, but without you here now, I see no reason to keep caring for these monsters. I'll hope you'll understand when I see you again one day."

[kanene-yaaay]

Yellow, Black, Blue and Warmth

Kanene’s note: I am very proud of this sdfghjqswerty.

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* This characters don’t belongs to me! They all belong to the anime/manga Boku no Hero.

* This is a SFW tickle fanfic. ^w^)b

* This is Lee!Toshinori with Ler!Hizashi + Ler!Aizawa. Platonic or Romantic. Around 4.500 words.

* This has mouth tickles (raspberries, nibbles, tickly kisses...), teasy nicknames, use of the spotlight system (green, yellow and red) and baby talk. If there is anything that needs to be tagged just lemme know! 

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any and every advice is very very welcome! \(-w-)/

* Tell someone that makes you feel safe how much they matter to you. If you want, no words are needed. Sometimes just an emoji or ‘this reminds of you’ is needed. Don’t forget you’re especial to someone, as well. <33

[~*~]

“W-wait!”

 His arms twitched on their position above his head and, not for the first time, he felt himself starting to lower them in a desperate urge to hide his flaming face adorned by a soft, uncontrollable kind of smile that only a few people in the world could claim the happiness of seeing.

 A warm hand rested on the right side of his ribcage and nails positioned themselves under his toes, two playful gazes looking at him, warningly.

 “Let’s-” a quiet gasp escaped from his lips when he tried to make a placating gesture with his hands and lowered them further, making the nimbly fingers start to wiggle restlessly on his spots. “I aham sure we can think another solution for this p-problem!”

 Goosebumps ran freely across his body in a wave of warm and excitement as the concentrated, evil black eyes blinked lazily at him, their owner not dignifying himself with an answer before he shoved his face back on the right side of his stomach, nuzzling and humming calmly, his nose exploring, drawing shapes on the ticklish skin, the adult being extremely careful and attentive enough so every vibration seemed to buzz on every and any of his so, so sensitive nerves, leading his back to arch with the unbearable sensation and the “attacker” to smirk in his quietness.

 “I-I beg f-for you to reconside-eek!” He squirmed harder as a low ‘oh’ was pronounced, trying - with not nearly all his strength, if he was being honest, but no one needed to know that - to dislodge the other adult from the newly found sweet spot right next to his hip, which was currently being rustless attacked with soft, barely there kisses that, no matter how much he buckled, refused to move. “Please, please. Yohou don’t have to d-do this!”

 His barriers were starting to crumble, quiet sounds beginning to find their way out of his firmly pressed lips, red growing more on his face as an awed cooing researched his ears and the long, awfully long nails lightly scratched the arch of his feet, making themselves known. They prodded, scribbled and danced skillfully across his sole, circling the weak spots that, for the way the blonde’s grin widened every time he stumbled in a new one, wouldn’t be forgotten that easily.

 And then Toshinori giggled. 

 That was when he realized he was doomed.

“Aw, but I do think we do! Who wouldn’t want to hear more of that cute laughter of yours, my dear squeaky listener?”

 “Hi-hizashi-san!”

 “Yes, my wiggly wiggley bear? What is the matter? You seem rather smiley today. ~” Hizashi sing-sang, an only one finger focusing at that lovely spot right under the ball of his feet that made him squeal in a poorly hidden delight, his laughter starting to overcome his titters. Especially as Shouta decided to be a little more hands-on and weak, almost maddening touches were spidered on Yagi’s right side, not helping at all the flow of high pitched squeaks escaping from his mouth. “Does that tickle? Huh? Does that tickle tickle tickle you so much that it makes you want to give us all that amazing squealing squeals and cute yelps? Aw, isn’t that so kind of him, Shou?”

 “You think that after so much hero work the Symbol of Peace would have gotten at least a bit of a resistance.” Aizawa pointed, not bothering to lift his head so his words wouldn’t be muffled as they hit directly Toshinori’s tummy, not even a drop of remorse on his tune as his act made the aforementioned to crackle, kicking as a series of ‘nonono’s filled the room. “Don’t you agree, Toshinori? Just a few well placed tickles here and there and then All Might would be begging for mercy in a few seconds. Tsk. So ticklish, so helpless, so cute.”

 Aizawa didn’t call them cute often. He did, however, reconsider his choice when his gaze quickly locked on Yagi, a nice feeling bubbling in his chest with the other’s half whine, half giggle, his wobbly, happy smile almost disappearing under all the blush that consumed his features.

  “Right!” Yamada experimentally squeezed his calf, beaming when a guffaw answered him, the leg tugging halfheartedly on his grip, arms hugging himself to not push them away. “But that is no problem! We are teachers, after all. Teachers very capable of teaching him how to increase his endurance, and I think I have the perfect idea of a lesson to help him.”

 Yagi was dying. Part of himself wanted to flee away from all the attention, all the warm, caring touches and compliments and that absurdly insufferable sensation that still tingled his body even now, when Shouta and Hizashi stopped to loom over his form with matching evil smirks, making it almost impossible for him to not hide his face and curl in a silly, rather giggly ball.

 The words of the previous finally sank in his mind and he fiercely shook his head, not trusting his own mouth and trying to not let the amusement he felt blooming on him to drip on his move.

 “Awesome! Thank you for agreeing, tickly listener. It’s amazing to know you’re also as eager for this just as we are!”

 “But I did not-” A true shriek cut his words as Aizawa dug his fingers on his armpits, resulting in a sea of wild giggles to overtake him. The tickles being mean enough to be able to completely dissolve his protests, although also the right amount of light so Yamada’s teasy words would still be able to be heard above him.

 “So!” The Voice Hero clapped joyfully, getting even more excited at the other's reactions. “The best way to be prepared for any situation is to train! Practice! You need to be prepared to all resist to any and every trickys tickly tickle technique that exists, which means scribbles, scratches, squeezes, kneads, nibbles, nuzzles, kisses, spidering, nursery rhymes, and ooooh, of course, raspberries!” Hizashi nodded once, determined.

 “I can’t!” Yagi threw his attempts of forming entire, coherent sentences out of the window, his brain basically short-circuiting on Hizashi’s first examples. “Please, please, I swear! I cahahan’t!”

 “Oh, don’t worry my dear sweet, squirmy listener, it’s really a lot of work to do... But! You will not be doing it alone! Me and Shouta will be here cheering and helping you for hours and hours and hours until you master the whooole lesson. And," the blonde got closer, lowering his tune until his words were just a breath on Yagi's ears, teasing the sensitive spot no matter how much he shrugged and shook his head. "If you get something wrong all we need to do it's just start aaaall over and over again, right, Shou?!”

 “Oh gohod.”

 “Of course, I don’t waste my time with someone who doesn’t have potential.”

 Aizawa’s predator smirk and tone maybe would be scarier if it wasn't broken by Yamada’s loud cooing, the taller coming back to his previous position as he rested a quick squeeze on Shouta's hip, fishing a surprised snort and a warningly glance from the black haired man, who, on his turn received an innocent whistling as an answer. Toshinori chuckled in amusement at the scene, gratefully taking the breather.

 “Better be careful,” Yagi’s tune was innocent, with a titter dropping here and there, still, a dangerous shine gleamed intensely on his blue eyes, “so that lesson won’t backfire on you in the future.”

 Aizawa stared at him, the tip of his lips curling in a barely there grin that heavily contrasted and complemented Yamada’s dramatic gasp in betrayal.

 “Very well.” Eraserhead said, positioning himself on top of his legs, successfully pining him on the mattress. "Let's take care of any riot that might happen right now, then."

 Suddenly, All Might senses all the confidence he felt not a few seconds ago to transform in butterflies flying in despair on his stomach. Shouta’s shadow stood above him, the usual bored expression plastered on his features as his face lowered closer and closer of the blonde, stopping just a few centimeters from his ear.

  Toshinori held his breath in anticipation.

 “Green?”

 Something… something he couldn’t really nominate melted in his heart and for a moment he forgot how words worked.

 He really loved them both so much.

 “Green.”

 Shouta chuckled.

 "Good." He adjusted himself, resting their foreheads together and capturing those blue eyes to himself. "Giggles, titters, whines… every sound you make I will be able to hear clearly so be very, very careful and don't laugh.”

 Toshinori gasped when the feeling of skilled hands, scratching and kneading his side shoot through him. The offending fingers danced slowly, taking their time on each weak spots before switching to another one, a bit too close of his stomach or his spine, completely oblivious to how Toshinori's chest already shook with trapped sounds. Toshinori realized, maybe too late, how their new position prevented him to perceive where Aizawa would attack next, every time the black-haired hero changed his target to an unexpected spot adding a tear in his barriers, the squeaks and crackles getting stronger and harder to contain.

 “So, sweetpea, how would you rate your ticklish experience from one to ten, so far?” Yagi couldn’t help the way his body twitched and squirmed involuntarily at Yamada’s voice, his imagination unhelpfully whispering that, at any moment, any moment now, Hizashi would give up from his purely verbal teases and be touchier. “One being ‘That Is All You Can Do?’ and ten being ‘This Is Everything I ever Dreamed About Please Don’t ever Stop?’” 

 “P-p-lease!”

 “That is not a number.” Aizawa observed, jumping in his friend’s teasing at the same time he stopped, thinking about something until his eyes shone. His voice was velvety, almost as a purring. “But that can be helped. Here, I will refresh your memory.” A finger pressed on the lowest rib on his right and the blonde’s eyes widened, a snort flying from his lips, his head shaking from one side to other, a pleading gaze.

 “Wait! Aizawa, please, wait! I will do anything!”

 “What.” Suddenly the finger was replaced by the whole hand shaped as a claw, the spot where it touched tingled in anticipation. “Did you call me?”

 Aizawa was adamant about very few things, actually.

 Hizashi chuckled darkly, free of any pity, next to him. “I think he is asking for it, Shou.”

 Do not mess with his cats. Do not mess with his kids. Do not wake him up. Do not eat his jelly porches and, of course, if he gave you the permission to call him by his first name, use it.

 “No, no, no! I meant! I meheheant Shouta!”

 Of course, except for the first two, he didn’t actually care that much for when the others were ignored by his close friends, but - he curled his fingers, watching as Yagi continued to squirm and snicker at every twitch of his fingers - that didn’t mean he wouldn’t have his fun with this slip. 

 “And also,” again, Yamada pipped in, “he just giggled, didn’t you just said him to not laugh?”

 “I did.” 

 “Please! Anything! Anything you want! Just name it! I will givehe you anythihihihing.”

 Aizawa adjusted himself so his lips would rest on Yagi’s neck, he sighed deeply, relaxed. 

 “Then give me your laughter.”

 And he started.

 The fingers dug on his spot, prodding and scribbling in attacks which danced in a perfect synchrony with the fast nibbles assaulting all the sensitive skin he could reach, expertly dodging from all the trashing, the attacks seemingly to only be fueled by his shrieks.

 “An autograph!” loud, booming laughter exploded, snorts and an intelligible mix of half English and half Japanese painting his words stumbling and falling nonstop from his mouth. Yagi lost track of what he was saying the moment a raspberry was placed right under his chin and the hand tased his side, vibrating and vibrating and vibrating there for what seemed an entire eternity. “Rare merchandise! My house! Anything, I swear, anything but this!”

 “Oh my god.” Hizashi braced himself on the wall, his conflicted heart torn between cooing and teasing the other for how much adorable he was being and giggling in joy with his funny reactions. “Oh my god. Shouta, please, don’t ever stop tickling him, this is the most precious scene I witnessed in my whole life.”

 Shouta felt tempted to agree, however, after a couple of minutes, he stopped, shoving his face on the other’s shoulder to hide his own soft chuckles, being accompanied by the residual, bubbling giggles. They waited until his breath became steadier before the one with black, deep eyes stared at the watery, gleaming blue ones.

 “Shoutahaha…”

 “Just one more spot, okay?”

 Toshinori closed his eyes, nodding before trying to hide his expression under his hands, being stopped by Yamada, who took each one of them gently and gave a kiss on his knuckles, lacing their fingers, knowing very well Yagi wouldn’t attempt to pry them away like this. 

 “No hiding your beautiful face, remember?” Yagi wanted to huff in annoyance at the unprompted tease, but it was being said with such lovely care that he couldn’t help but melt under it, especially when Shouta began to bombard the place behind his ear with kisses and small raspberries, descending him in quiet titters and silent laughter sprinkled with sporadic guffaws.

 After a few more of kisses, tickles and fast, inaudible giggles he ceased his attack, giving a last nibble on his ear before getting up from him, letting the Symbol of Peace recompose himself between his blush and gigantic smile, offering a cup of water when his laughter stopped to fly across the room, all of them enjoying the silence as Toshinori drank the liquid, thanking Shouta.

 “Green?” Hizashi asked, stepping a little closer, a shy grin on his lips.

 “Oh my… Why do you have to make me say that?” Toshinori squeezed their hands, huffing and deviating his gaze. “Green.”

 The blinding smile that was sent in his way seemed to have enough shine to light up the whole house. “Let’s jam!”

 The Voice Hero tried to untwine their hands kindly, blinking in surprise when the other only held them more fiercely. He tried again, same result. Behind them Shouta snorted, amused.

 “Giggly bear, my sweetpea, you will have to let go of my hands.”

 “Absolutely not, you will attack me.”

 Yagi stared at him with a challenge in his face, daring the hero to do something about that.

 “Well…” Hizashi winked playfully. “I always have my mouth, and, you know? That wiggly wiggley yummy tummy of yours seems to be asking for a couple or maybe a dozen of raspberries… ~”

 “Wait, no!” Toshinori squirmed, instinctively sucking his belly. “Don’t!”

 “Aw, but that is such a pity! I was thinking about being a bit merciful today, you know? Maybe some skittering under your knees, being sure to give enough attention to every inch of both of them, I mean, we don’t want anyone feeling left out of the fun, of course! Then I would give one or two squeezes on them, a swift under your wiggly wiggley toes, a few scratches on your squirmy feet and voilá! A happy, silly, giggly Yagi ready to go. But, well, now I believe I don’t have another choice except place all the mean raspberries aaaall over your unprotected stomach and sides and ribs and sides and neck and ribs and-”

 “Stop, stop!” Toshinori let go of his hands in order to hug his tingling torso, curling in a defense ball, trying to stop the feeling of the imaginary tickles. “J-just get over it!”

 “Aw,” Hizashi placed a kiss on his temple, smiling softly for a piece of moment before letting it turn into an evil grin. “Your wish is an order, my adorably ticklish bear.”

 He positioned his hands in each leg, grazing his nails from the bottom of his calves and lightly scribbling their way up to the wonderfully sensitive spot under his knee, taking his time to draw spirals and rivers on the skin, being very content to feel the other squirm under his touches, huffs of laughter puffing from his lips. “Hey, Toshi, can I ask a question?”

 “Fuck,” he squeaked when an unexpected pinch was placed on his hip before Hizashi innocently continued his previous attack. “Y-you may.”

 “Right! But, first of all, let me take care of this two...” Yamada smiled, completely unfazed as he sat on the bed, holding both ankles and lifting before resting them on his shoulders. “There you go, squirmy toy! All comfy and unable to wiggle away from my curious, tickly fingers!”

 “He is going to kick you.” Aizawa rolled his eyes, getting closer until he could get a firm, yet gentle, grip on Yagi’s ankles, truly preventing him from moving them. “Here. Now ask your question.”

 “Thank you, babe.” Hizashi relished on the way Aizawa’s ears were painted in red before beaming again at Toshinori, who kept trying to pull his legs away from his predicament, and seeming to take the fact that he wasn’t laughing his head off as a personal offense. He rested his hands on his knees again, one of them squeezing them skillfully while the other scratched the sensitive skin underneath it. “So, Toshinori, what do you think it tickles more? When I squeeze, squeeze, squeeze those adorable ticklish kneecaps or when I tickle tickle tickle them silly?”

 “No, no, no!”

 “No?! Aw, I am afraid that isn’t really the answer I am looking for, darling… But that is okay! Do you know what I am going to do now, Toshi? Huh? Do you know?” 

 Yagi just shook his head, knowing pretty well that anything said would just fuel the evil words dripping freely from the other’s mouth.

 “Not even a guess?” He changed his technique to lightly tease with plentiful of scribbles the sensitive spot with just the tip of his fingers. “An itsy bitsy tiny guess? Awn.” A fake pout adorned his face. His fingers ascended a bit more, now tormenting the thighs, their owner smiling wide as the squirms began to get stronger, drawing circles around the little weak spots he knew that would fish the wildest laughter. “But I will tell you anyway! Because the Tickle Monster is feeling very kind today. I am going to get those sensitives calves riiiight here!” 

 “Hizashi!” Yagi tried to pull his legs again, his giggles becoming more frantic as he realized they didn’t even buckle from their spot. “I can’t. I promise you, I can’t! Hihihihizashi!”

 “But I do think you can! I believe in you, Toshinori. You’re such a strong, nice tickle bug. I think you definitely can take some good cootchie-coothie-coos right here!” He poked. “And here” Poke. “And here, and here, and here, here, here!” 

 Suddenly a sea of pokes - just that, just tiny, harmless, quick pokes that shouldn’t be able to make him feel even more ticklish than he already was - assaulted his calves, some surprising pinches and clawing also making an appearance and disappearing just as fast as they came.

 “Shut up, please, shut up!” Throwing his head with loud, squealing chortles, Toshinori pleaded, his mind overtaken with how much it tickled and how unbearable it was and how amazing all of this felt. 

 “Gasp! Toshi! How can you say that? The Tickle Monster thought you loved his teases. Why would you want them to ever stop? Do they make you feel more ticklish? Huh? Do they? Do all my silly teases and tickly attacks make the big, strong Yagi Toshinori become a very lovely and adorable mess of those cute sounds? Huh?”

 “Don’t you think how great would it be if we just stayed like this forever? Me, here, playing with you and your awfully helpless toes,” at the mention of the new spot Yamada changed his target, making the other to arch his back and shriek in belly laughter as fingers attacked under his toes, tickling and digging unmercifully at every single one of them. “and hearing this wonderful laughter! Don’t even make me start about your laughter! It is music to my ears.”

 When nothing but a series of snorts and loud laughter answered him, the blonde decided to stop his tickles, slowing them until his warm hands just rested there, peacefully.

 Toshinori wiped the single tear that traveled to his hot cheek, just a quick glance in Aizawa and Yamada’s general direction being enough to make his giggles start a-new.

 “I am not even doing nothing to you.” The tease couldn’t be helped, especially as his giggles got stronger and, consequently, quieter.

 “Your hands!”

 “My hands? What about them?” Hizashi shouldn’t be allowed to feel that much smug nor powerful.

 “They’re just…” A flow of intelligible noises fell from Yagi’s lips, and he decided to try again. “They’re just there! It tickles!”

 “Now, it does?”

 “I would never have guessed.” Aizawa deadpanned, watching as the other wiggled and squirmed in protest.

 “Right? I mean, they’re just chilling there. No moving, no tickling and Toshinori attacks them like that! I would feel wounded, but I guess he is really just a very ticklish giggle bug. Shouta, what are we going to do? The lesson clearly isn’t working… Oh, I wonder if there is something I could do to stop tickling him...”

 “Just take them off there!” Yagi gasped when the fingers started to skitter around his ankles, another newly discovered sweet spot that erupted a new round of snorts. “No!”

 “I don’t think there is anything that can be done. We could just stop and stare at him and he would be laughing uncontrollably in three seconds.” Aizawa remarked.

 “He is just too much sensitive, ya know? Just an itsy bitsy touch and you get him all giggly and blushy.” 

 “Am nohohot!”

 “And helpless too. Cute and helpless.”

 “Shouta, plehehease, let me go!”

 “Yean, absolutely.” Hizashi agreed, shaking his head with fake sadness, a tiny grin blooming on his lips. “I guess this is our fate, Sho, to hear him laugh and squeal and snort and giggle-giggle-giggle at anything we do.”

 “A pity.”

 “Enough!” Both stopped, hearing the light of tiredness painting Yagi’s tune. “That- haha, that is enough, please.”

 “Yellow?”

 “Red.” Toshinori smiled, feeling yet too shy to find their gazes with his. “I'm just an old man with one lung.”

 Hizashi snorted, offering him a bottle of water and heading to the kitchen to make his special tea - after all, no one knew a better recipe for tired throats than the Voice Hero himself, - and Aizawa just rolled his eyes, sitting on the mattress and massaging his feet, a calming gesture that helped both to relax as they enjoyed the silence with the phantom laughter and reminiscent giddiness that still ran on their veins.

 “Shouta,” Toshinori lightly hit the other’s thigh with his free feet until the black haired one turned his attention to him, not even slightly prepared for the soft, incredibly soft, expression and gleaming, energetic eyes which found his. “Thank you.”

 Aizawa scoffed, quickly trying to brush off the warmth engulfing his heart and smile that tried at all cost to appear on his features. 

 “It was very… enjoyable.” Toshinori pressed further, tipping his head to the side in an attempt to see his expression. “Your technique is very effective! You don’t rely a lot on verbal teases but the way you can mix different attacks and keep track of which spots bring the most reactions is very impressive! Not to mention-” A squeak broke his thoughts when a mean squeeze was delivered on his calf, Aizawa huffing before massaging the local to make the tingles go away.

 “Continue with this and I will not be above ganging up with Hizashi to wreck you, again.”

 “If it’s Complementing Eraserhead hours and you’re being too stubborn to accept the deserved nice words I think it’s very clear who I will end up helping.” Hizashi remarked as he got into the room, distributing the tea before squishing himself between them, almost spilling the drink as a warning tickle on his stomach made him jump.

 “Hey!” The one being called just quirked an eyebrow at him, almost challenging. Hizashi just shrugged. “It would still be worth it.”

 “Yagi,” Toshinori blinked, surprised at being pulled on their usual bickering, staring Aizawa above the rim of his mug. “Analyses about Hizashi as the ler.”

 An inhumane screech flew from Yamada’s lips. “Don’t you dare!”

 When he was over, sneaking one and other praise for Eraserhead here and there, they were all laid on the bed, limbs entangled due both the magnetism that seemed to pull them together and the fact that if it wasn’t for it, Yamada would have already fled from the room on the shine of Yagi’s first word.

 “I don’t like you.” The one with long, blond hair complained, grumbling when his sentence only made the others snuggle closer, snickering. “None of you. You’re both very mean and dirty traitors and I am going to scream.”

 “Don’t.” Aizawa slurred from somewhere behind Toshinori, his tune showing he was almost asleep. Hizashi, who already forgave them for their “betray” searched for his waist, resting his arm on it and very lightly scratching the base of his back, a spot he knew would make the underground hero absolutely melt. Toshinori captured his free hand, coming close and humming softly as his finger traced the lines on his palm.

 Soft. Good. Warm.

 At some point of the conversation, someone had turned the television on, and for a few pieces of moment the show playing in the background was the only thing that filled the silence.

 “Hey, Toshi.”

 “Yes?”

 “I know you don’t like a lot of attention when the tickling is over but… thank you.” A quick kiss was delivered on his forehead, happy to see no trace of discomfort on the other’s features, only a tiny, timid smile. “Thank you.”

 “Go to sleep, Hizashi.” And then he kissed his knuckles, just like Hizashi did back then, and Shouta murmured something, pulling them closer and Hizashi smiled and the television started to grow more and more silent.

 “Ok.”

 After that, everything was soft, good, warm.

[~*~]

Inspirations!

* That entire AllEraserMic tickle series that I absolutely live for

* The teases from the fanfics of that amazing author

* A very especific post about cute reactions when the lee is being tickled but I can’t find it so please enjoy Onion’s blog (the op)  instead. His blog is gold.

[novelconcepts]

I am not sure if you have talked about this before but how do you think after moving back to America, Dani got in touch with Judy again. And if she did, what was their first meeting like with Dani introducing Jamie?

“You’re sure about this?” Jamie leans back, hands in her pockets, gazing at the serene white house, third on its block. “Could still go around the corner and wait, if you like. Saw a little shop...”

She trails off. Dani suspects her body language speaks for itself, all locked jaw and slight tremble. 

He wouldn’t have noticed, she thinks, and the rush of hot grief is so sudden, she has to close her eyes. Jamie hesitates, leans in until her shoulder presses lightly against Dani’s, lowers her voice.

“Whatever you want, Poppins. Reckon I can play nice as a friend as well as--”

“No.” She finds she can’t look at the house directly. It’s much easier, turning her eyes to Jamie. Much easier to search her face for signs Jamie isn’t okay with this, despite what she’s been saying all afternoon. 

She finds nothing but a slight smile, a furrow of Jamie’s brow. Jamie, holding honesty at the forefront as always. Jamie, who offered her company, and has--for months--shown no sign of flagging in her promise to see this adventure through. Wherever it may take them.

Wherever.

“No,” she repeats, her voice as firm as she can make it. “I’m not here to...I’m not going to...”

Play that role again, she can’t say, but she can tell from the way Jamie nods it’s coming across. I’m not here to be Danielle, she doesn’t say, and Jamie’s hand brushes her hip in silent solidarity. 

“Whoever you need me to be. And we don’t have to stay a minute longer than you want.”

It pains her, that Jamie would put that on the table--whoever you want me to be. Jamie’s told her all about her one and only brush with what she had, once, considered real love. How she’d told that girl the very same. How she’d seen it through, as Jamie does with all undertakings she values, to the very end. She’d been who that girl needed her to be--and she’d been the same for the women who had come after, to a lesser degree. A fumble in the dark. An agreement to never bring it up again. A test. A lantern. A buried memory. 

“You,” she tells Jamie now, “are you. And I’m me. And if that’s not enough for her...”

Jamie nods again. “Lead the way, then.”

She remembers the house being bigger, somehow. Cleaner. Remembers the porch sprawling open to offer more space for rocking chairs and bunched-up bodies clutching glasses of iced tea. She remembers the lawn extending out and out, littered with discarded bicycles and baseball gear. 

She remembers Eddie, knees bent, hands pressed into the concrete behind his reclining form. Remembers the way he’d greet her outside every day of summer, the light reflecting off his crooked glasses. The way he’d smile, turn his head, shout through the screen door: “Mom! Danielle’s here!”

No one shouts for her now. Nothing but the rap of her own fist heralds her arrival. No one is looking for Danielle today, and she’s grateful, because they certainly wouldn’t find her. Not with all the weeds of memory sprung up around the girl she’d been. Not with the jungle of unease growing thick around the woman she is. 

“Oh my--”

Judy’s older. So much older than she ought to be, Dani’s absence contained within little more than a year. There are creases Dani doesn’t recognize around her mouth, silver tucked into the muted red of her hair. A year, she thinks, without a son does this to a person.

A year without a daughter.

The screen door swings open so sharply, it catches Jamie along the hip, nearly tips her off the stoop. Dani’s hand closes around her wrist, an easy reflex months in the making, though Jamie’s already shifted her balance and adjusted her expression. Not irritation, not pain--a welcoming little smile, a quiet expression that says, Not here to make a fuss. Not here to be noticed, even. 

She waits for it to spill out of Judy’s mouth--a shocked exhalation of her full name--but Judy’s arms are already around her, and her voice seems capable of no more than a swallowed sob. No one, Dani thinks, has ever hugged her the way Judy does. Her own mother couldn’t manage it.

She’s folding. She’s folding before either of them can speak a single word, her heart careening behind her sweater, and if she closes her eyes--if she lets herself press into Judy’s arms, inhale the scent of fresh coffee and clean clothes--she can almost forget...almost forget...

“Honey,” Judy breathes, “how have you been?”

How. Not where. Not how could you. One simple word, summing it all up. Dani makes a choked sound, nearly a laugh, and lets one hand swing hopelessly out to the left. 

Jamie catches it without a sound. 

Judy is stepping back as though embarrassed, smoothing down her blouse, eyes wet. “You--your mother said you were traveling.” There is remarkably little accusation in that sentence, Dani thinks. Remarkably little offense. You didn’t tell me, but she did, and it’s all right. It’s all right that you couldn’t. 

“Europe,” she says croakily. “England, mostly. Got a job--”

“You look...” Judy trails off, peering into her face, and it’s small, the recognition. Small, but there in the parting of her lips, the slackening of her jaw. Your eye, she imagines Judy breathing, what’s happened to your eye, sweetheart?

“It’s been a long time,” Dani says, a bit shakily. “Lots to--I mean, if you have the time. I don’t want to intrude.”

Judy takes another heavy step backward, into the house, gesturing emphatically. “Don’t be silly! Don’t--God, Danielle, I’ve wanted to write. Your mother said she didn’t have the address, and I didn’t want to bother you, but...”

Jamie is still holding her hand, she realizes, as Judy’s shocked gaze moves from Dani’s face (Dani’s eye, she knows, the russet brown stark against the pale pink of her cheeks) to Dani’s outstretched arm. Judy takes in this new development for a moment, silently: a solemn young woman in a black knit sweater, the cuffs of her jeans turned neatly up, her sneakers white and her fingers implacably wrapped around Dani’s. Jamie, who smiles that soft, not here to be noticed smile, and inclines her head. 

“Mrs. O’Mara.”

“Hello,” Judy says. Not the way Dani’s mother would say it, not even now--clipped and cold and waiting for explanation. She says it with such an easy air of welcome, her head tipped curiously to the side. “Judy, please.”

“Jamie,” Jamie says, and something in Dani seems to cave inward. Some great, hulking shard of terror seems to dissolve in on itself. She is Judy, and you are Jamie, and I am--I am--

Her? No. Surely not, not with Jamie’s fingers tangled, with Jamie standing just off-center on this strange stage. The whole neighborhood, she realizes, can see her: standing with shoulders hunched, holding a strange woman’s hand, staring at her not-so-mother-in-law with bruised eyes. 

The whole neighborhood can see, and she doesn’t care in the least about any of it except to say--

“Dani. I actually go by Dani these days.” 

These days, like it’s been ten years instead of one. These days, so much grief and fear and love and joy packed into twelve months, she almost can’t comprehend it. Is she really the same woman who packed her bags in secret? Is she really the one who stood as tall as she could at a funeral in a black dress she hadn’t the heart to bring when she ran?

Is she, in fact, her--lonely, beastly, incapable of peace?

Jamie’s hand flexes once, a stroke of her thumb along Dani’s knuckles bringing her home. She draws a shuddering breath. 

“It’s been a long time,” she repeats. “There are...things we could talk about. Stories. If you want. Some of them, I should have...told you a long time ago.”

Judy, looks for a moment, taken aback. Looks, for a moment, like she has been handed a script so far from the one she’s memorized, she might not make it back into the scene at all. 

“Dani,” she says, turning the syllables over in her mouth. “Of course. Dani and--and Jamie.” Her mouth trembles, just once. The name, Dani understands, is so close. Those ie sounds, running parallel. So close, and so different. 

“We don’t have to,” Dani says. “If you’re busy.” If you can’t. I understand can’t. I understand not being able to let something like this in. “I probably should have called--”

“Don’t,” Judy says thickly. Stops. Swallows hard. “Don’t be silly. I’m--I’m just about to start dinner, if you’d like to stay?”

Stay, she doesn’t add, and tell me your stories.

Stay, she doesn’t add, and let me in to this room you always kept so carefully locked.

Stay, she doesn’t add, because we need each other, just a little bit. Maybe just this one last time. 

“Both of you,” Judy adds, when Dani hesitates. There is an understanding in her eyes--and a bewilderment, too--the two warring as she gazes at their profiles standing side by side on this too-small porch. “Jamie. It’s...it’s wonderful to...”

She can’t quite finish. Dani suspects she can’t quite lie. Because maybe it is wonderful to meet Jamie--or maybe it will be--but there is something cruel about asking a mother to gaze into the eyes of a woman who might never have crossed their paths if not for a horrible accident. A sudden tragedy. A grief Judy simply cannot release. 

There is something cruel about asking Judy to look upon Jamie now, but there’s something cruel about asking Dani to carry him forever, too. About asking Dani to shelve her heart in favor of her pain. She won’t do that, not anymore, not for Judy or anyone. There’s no telling how much time she has left, and she will not sacrifice a moment of it being someone she isn’t. 

“It’s okay,” Jamie says quietly. It isn’t entirely clear which of them she’s speaking to, as her fingers tighten around Dani’s, her shoulders angled back, her mouth turned up in that tiny smile that says, This isn’t about me. Jamie, who’d be anyone Dani needs right now. Jamie, who only wants to provide company. Jamie, who knows enough of the story to understand this will not be easy--and genuinely does not mind. 

Dani can see it. She thinks Judy can, too, even as her throat works around a sob. Her eyes are wet, darting from one face to the other. Something seems to solidify in her next breath, drawn deep, let out slowly. 

“Please,” she says, gesturing again for them to follow her in. “Stay.”

“We would love to,” Dani says, and Jamie’s hand does not slide, does not twitch, does not abandon her for even a moment as, together, they step into the house.

[chockfullofsecrets]

Critical Role: Embarrassing and Undignified

(Read on AO3)

Rating: Gen

Summary: Caleb doesn’t smile much. It’s something he rather likes about the man, that he prefers to save his pleasure for that which is truly worth it - but there’s nothing else he can call the expression that briefly narrows those blue eyes. “Reacting like that in front of a friendly tiefling?” he says - teasing, almost, and Essek feels his stomach flip. “I am not so sure.”

Essek's time in the hot tub goes a little awry.

Wordcount: 3.3k

A/N: Fill for this anon prompt! (i’m so sorry for taking 2+ months to write this... i love Essek so much and he needs more tk content)

---

Essek is no stranger to being - unusual. He often welcomes it, really. Achieving a status such as his for the better part of a century comes with its fair share of eccentricities, his floating among them, and at this point hovering just above the rest of the Dynasty has become something of a favored routine.

And yet, it seems, the Nein have him beaten at every turn.

He had meant to take his leave directly after dinner, unsure of his place among Yasha’s solemn questions of loneliness and Beauregard’s transparent attempts to pry information from him and Jester’s threat to invoke a Zone of Truth for idle gossip -

(and the slight jealousy, he admits, if only to himself, of seeing Caleb, ambitious and focused and loved, among them - )

But. Lonely and friendless he is, as has been quite thoroughly pointed out to him through the evening, and he’s intrigued enough by the rarity of this hot tub to clamber up awkwardly onto the enclosing stone wall and dangle his feet into the water while his hosts bustle around and shuck off various pieces of clothing.

Caleb sits next to him, rolling his own pant legs crisply to the knee and lowering his feet in. “What do you think?”

He looks over - thank the Light, Caleb’s still wearing his shirt. “It’s - nice,” he says. He drags his toe through a slow stream of bubbles rising from what he assumes must be the hottest parts of the depths. “Unfamiliar, but quite impressive that you’ve constructed it on your own.”

Caleb raises an eyebrow. “The hot tub, or -” He traces a small circle with his index finger, encompassing himself and his companions. “- all of this?”

Decades of court experience well up unbidden on his tongue. “The compliment extends to you either way,” he offers smoothly.

Caleb squints at him, but before he can say anything more the rest of the Nein are joining them with pleased exclamations and a thoroughly distracting amount of splashing. Essek watches, bemused, as Jester flops in belly-first before even unbuckling the last clasp of her outergarments - she wrestles them off, finally, crumpling the dripping green cloak into a ball and flinging it away, and he winces on behalf of the fine Kryn fabric.

She looks around, eyes lighting on him, and her hands fly to her round cheeks with an excited gasp. “Essek! Your legs!”

Startled, he looks down - they seem quite normal, with his boots off and his neatly pressed trousers folded at the knee, if a little more purple than anyone else’s present. “I would prefer to keep my clothes dry, yes.”

She leans in, eyes wide. “Are they re-al?”

Light be with him - she’s hardly said anything, but he struggles not to flush under the scrutiny. “Ah, yes? Why should they not be?”

Just then, something brushes lightly over the sole of his foot - he startles, and -

His seat is well made, certainly, but not enough to stand up to the Nein’s shenanigans; as he recoils, his center of gravity shifts right off the narrow ledge and he’s tumbling backwards before he can do more than blink.

Light, if this is how he dies -

He flails for a solution - it’s been years, at least, since he’s done something so pedestrian as fall, and there are spells for this, certainly, but what he’s prepared for today is more showy fare, in case the Nein asked for a demonstration, why can’t he think -

A hand closes roughly around his bicep, then another around the opposite shoulder, and then he’s dangling from Caleb’s grip with his back nearly parallel to the floor - he reaches out too, panicked, and crumples the front of Caleb’s shirt in a death grip.

“Good reflexes,” he says, breathless. Blood pounds in his ears. Caleb stares down at him, blue eyes wide and jaw tight -

“Ooh, now kiss!” Jester hoots.

The rest of the Nein burst into laughter behind them. Caleb goes bright red and hurriedly turns away, looking over his shoulder. “One of you jokers come here and help me, please,” he chides, strained, “I am not the muscle of this group.”

The tension in Caleb’s face becomes infinitely more explicable - finally capable of rational thought, Essek flicks his fingers and casts a weight-lightening cantrip just as another strong hand latches onto his knee and bodily tows him upright. Yasha nods at him, chest completely bare, and wades back to her corner as Veth pops up from nowhere with her long ears twitching maniacally. “I’m SO sorry,” she screeches, insistent far beyond the point of sincerity. “I brushed against your feet COMPLETELY ON ACCIDENT.”

“VERY ACCIDENTAL,” Jester agrees loudly. Next to her, Fjord winces.

Veth’s voice softens, then, as she pats him gingerly on the leg. “I didn’t think you would do that - are you okay?”

“It’s all right,” he says weakly. Her ears droop in what seems to be genuine relief - it is pointless to care, perhaps, but he feels better for having reassured her.

He sucks in a solid breath for what feels like the first time in minutes and turns to Caleb to thank him. There’s still a guarding hand resting warmly against his back - and worse still, he realizes belatedly that his own hand is still fisted in the buttons of Caleb’s shirt.

He snatches it hastily away, ears burning. “Ah, my apologies. I shall pay closer attention to gravity, for the rest of the night.”

Caleb doesn’t smile much. It’s something he rather likes about the man, that he prefers to save his pleasure for that which is truly worth it - but there’s nothing else he can call the expression that briefly narrows those blue eyes. “Reacting like that in front of a friendly tiefling?” he says - teasing, almost, and Essek feels his stomach flip. “I am not so sure.”

A friendly -

Surprised, he glances over at Jester and finds her wearing a smug expression that might not be out of place on Da’leth himself, if significantly sweeter. “E-ssek,” she wheedles, wide-eyed with delight, drawing every syllable to its maximum extent. “Are your feet like, super ticklish?”

Essek blinks - ticklish? But he hasn’t - really, he can’t remember the last time he might have known. As a child, perhaps, when Verin used to tempt him into playing by tackling him straight off his feet and -

Oh. Oh, dear.

At least that particular piece of evidence is decades out of date - a poor excuse to discard it, but he’s willing to compromise in the face of Jester’s ever-sharpening grin and the traitorously pleased squirm in the pit of his own stomach. “What? No, of course not, I was merely surprised-”

“You can be surprised and ticklish,” Jester corrects, skipping forward with a splash. Essek shirks back into Caleb’s hand, millimeters from tumbling off the ledge again, and she giggles. “And I’m pret-ty sure that you’re both.”

The hot tub, for all of its excellent qualities, is unfortunately not large enough to keep her at bay for longer than that. She reaches out as he’s still deciding which direction would be the best to flee in and scoops his ankle up in a grip like steel. “Ah-” he sputters. “I - Jester, wait-”

She drags a fingernail up the arch of his foot.

It feels like one of the few times while developing a lightning-based spell that he’d electrocuted himself - but the feeling doesn’t stop, shooting up his leg and tickling at his lungs too to make them shiver, and it’s silly, and he just -

He panics, jerks back against Caleb’s hand again, and in a moment of brash stupidity the animal instinct of his brain decides that the only safe place to hide is Caleb himself. He buries his face in Caleb’s side and grabs him around the waist just in time to shriek as Jester repeats the same lazy route up and down the sole of his foot, pausing only to scratch tingling patterns into his heel. “Tickle, tickle! Aw, guys, he’s so ticklish, look at how much he’s laughing!”

The fabric of Caleb’s shirt isn’t much of a barrier to Jester’s teasing - or to his own ticklish laughter, embarrassingly high-pitched and loud in a way that makes his whole face heat with shame - but at least they can’t see him blush.

Caleb jumps a little as Essek latches onto him, but his hand stays put, stabilizing, and starts to rub gentle circles on his back as Essek dissolves into cackling at another spidering assault on his arch. “Jester, please be gentle,” he says, amused. “I am not sure that is a good idea.”

Essek’s not sure how he feels either. It’s terribly embarrassing, and undignified, and if this was happening in front of any other being in the Dynasty he would have to learn some sort of memory erasure spell, but - the Nein have never cared for his layers upon layers of decorum anyway, have they, always prying for indignation and confusion and warmth that he’s not certain he even possesses.

Caught between Jester and Caleb and a vat of hot water, with the rest of the Nein making relatively amused noises behind him, he doesn’t think he’s ever felt warmer.

Jester just laughs. “I’m barely doing anything!” she teases, shaking Essek’s leg lightly. “He’s just so sensitive - oh, Essek, is it ‘cause you never walk anywhere? Is that why your feet are so soft and tickly?”

He’s giddy, even with the sudden reprieve, giggling too hard to speak. “I - ha - I dohon’t - ehe-”

“Of course it is,” Beauregard says smugly from a distance that seems far too close, “waving all those secrets and magic over our heads and he’s hoisted on his own fuckin’ petard-”

“What’s that?” Caduceus asks. Essek vaguely remembers the term to describe some sort of bomb, but Jester chooses that moment to send her mischievous fingers exploring under his fucking toes and it tickles like absolute hell. He shrieks even louder than before, if such a thing were possible, and makes a solid attempt to burrow his way straight into Caleb’s ribcage as his entire leg jolts in involuntary protest. No amount of desperate attempts to flex or curl his foot make the sensation any more bearable - it’s like the sucking feeling of a Teleport spell, like everything inside him is unmoored and floating in a sea of mirth and the only way he can get any of it out is to scream.

His cheeks hurt and he realizes, suddenly, that he’s beaming.

Jester cackles. “Come get his other foot, Beau,” she urges, easing off to just pinch his big toe between two fingers and wiggle it. “He totally loves it, he’s not even kicking-”

“Uh-huh,” Beauregard says, and there’s another splash. “Maybe I will.”

Caleb’s still rubbing his back - he stops, briefly, and from his huddled position Essek feels that Beauregard has jostled his other side on her way past. “His feet might be worse than yours,” she murmurs. He can hear the grin in her voice. “Better hope Jes doesn’t remember and go after you next.”

“Don’t remind her,” Caleb says, strangled. It’s remarkably friendly for Beauregard, though, and Essek is once again caught up in the paradox of this little group - merciless but fiercely protective, reluctant but trusting. It’s hard to be regretful - or wistful, maybe, one of those feelings that twinges in his chest every time he thinks of the Nein nowadays - with Jester tickling her way up the back of his bare calf and cooing over the way it makes him wriggle. But his heart, a traitor to the last, manages. There are so many secrets between them still.

Beauregard seizes his other ankle, hauling it up from the water, and he realizes for one terrible moment that if they were to, say, force him out of hiding and keep tickling, he might be inclined to spill some of them. “Scoot over, Jes,” Beauregard says, and there’s a squeak that, for once in the evening, doesn’t come from him. She chuckles. “Good thing he’s not trying to tickle you back, huh?”

He expects Jester to sputter and redirect her, as he would, but she sounds entirely unconcerned at the prospect. “Oh, Beau, do you want to have a tickle fight? We totally could, after this-”

“No,” she says, not entirely drowning out the little panicked noise that Caleb makes. “Not the kind of wrestling I want to do when half of us aren’t wearing shirts, if you know what I mean-”

“Beau!” Jester shrieks, giggling. Fjord groans loudly from the other side of the hot tub, and Essek, still squirming, is very sure that he’s blushing enough for it to show on the back of his neck, under his high collar. “Who do you want to wrestle with? Is it Yasha-”

“Yeah, yeah, okay, moving on.” Beauregard interrupts hastily. There’s a popping noise that takes a second for Essek to place as her cracking her knuckles. “Hey, Essek - you think you’d trade another favor to get us to stop?”

Essek flails for something resembling a complete sentence as Jester’s fingers curl teasingly behind one of his knees. “Nngh - heh-”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” She squeezes the back of his other knee, barks out a laugh as he jumps. “Jes, stop messing around, let’s get his feet.”

That makes him kick, but at this point his entire lower half is restrained - all he can do is take one last breath before fingertips are scribbling over both his soles and he’s cackling so forcefully that his laughter peaks into agonized wheezing with each fresh gulp of air. “Hhh - ha - ahahaaaa, hA -”

Caleb shifts a little, bending until one of the strands that always hang stubbornly loose from where he ties his hair back brushes the tip of Essek’s burning ear. Essek shivers. “You can tell them to stop, you know,” he murmurs.

Essek’s almost entirely sure that he’s crying into Caleb’s shirt, tears leaking from squeezed-shut eyes as Beauregard and Jester torment his feet, but Caleb seems - fond, oddly - as he starts to rub his back again. “They’re not trying to be cruel - I believe they’re just excited that you’ve. Ah. Lowered yourself to our level, perhaps.”

And what level is that, Essek wants to ask, suddenly conjuring a mental image of Caleb in the same throes of helpless laughter. But he’s barely capable of that, as he’s currently dying, so he just tightens his grip on Caleb and shakes his head. He can barely even register Jester and Beauregard’s teasing anymore - he doesn’t think he can speak right now without embarrassing himself even more if he tried.

“Fuck, alright,” Fjord says abruptly from somewhere miles away, “I think he’s actually crying now, the Dynasty is going to have our heads if we break him.”

“He wouldn’t let them, he’s our friend,” Jester trills, but she does stop tickling, ghosting a hand up over his heaving shoulders to pat him gently on the head. “His ears are really purple though, like magenta purple, I think he’s blushing.”

For some reason - perhaps because he can finally think - it strikes him, fighting through the warm and pleasantly tingling haze of being touched and gentled back into himself, that as much as the casual label of friend pleases him he cannot afford this kind of vulnerability.

“Or suffocating,” Beauregard says a moment later, dropping his foot unceremoniously back into the water. “Thelyss? You alive in there?”

And, a beat later, when he doesn’t reply - “Are you just, like, smelling Caleb now?”

“Gross,” Veth squawks. “Get him off, get him off!”

Caleb smells quite pleasant, actually, but that’s not the point - his self-awareness is slowly trickling back in as he remembers who and where he is, and what he’s done to the Nein, and now they’ve broken him and he would rather die than look any of them in the eye for the next year.

Caleb pats his back. “Come on, friend, chin up.”

And he’s right, Essek can’t afford to cling to this veneer of comfort any longer - but to his immediate and eternal shame, he whines and nuzzles further into Caleb’s ribs. Just a moment to gather his wits, maybe, and he’ll be able to Misty Step to the front door and don his mantle-

“No? Alright, then - I’ll go to work too, if I have to.”

The hand on his back lifts away and walks itself on two prodding fingers neatly up under Essek’s arm, gently wriggling into the hollow until he can’t bear to keep his arms up any longer. “Nnn, hnn! - eheh, thahat’s - enough, please-”

It’s. It’s not, is the problem - he tries to stir up anger, distaste, but there’s only fear. He would deal with this indignity again, suffer it gladly, even, just to have them speak to him kindly. It’s new, and terrifying, and he needs to think it over alone with a generous glass of wine in his tower.

He shrinks back in on himself, still snickering at the tickling under his arms, and Caleb takes the opportunity to grab him neatly by the shoulders and sit him back up - Essek catches a glimpse of his blue eyes shining with rare merriment and promptly swivels to look away from all of them. No one stops him as he rolls his pant legs down and shoves his feet into his boots, heedless of the damp. He can feel their curious gazes prickle on the back of his neck - shifting into an unconscious competence that’s carried him through many anxieties before, he’s already floating off the ground before he can remind himself otherwise. “I’m going to go now,” he says, rushed, still too terrified to turn his head. “Thank you, I -”

“Essek, wait!” Jester says, confused, and Beau scoffs, and he’s not going to think about how he can recognize their voices without even seeing them, he’s not -

Yasha’s voice, at last, breaks through the hubbub, and it’s only in deference to their conversation before dinner that he pauses to listen.

“Hey,” she says, quiet and certain enough to shake him. “You said that you’re lonely, right?”

The noise fades away. He inches down to the ground with it. “Recently, yes,” he replies, just above a whisper, fighting to keep his voice steady with the enormity of this, this feeling -

“I didn’t say so before,” she continues, perfectly calm, “but it’s a little scary, right? To not be so lonely, anymore.”

Essek says nothing - he knows, without the mantle, that they can all see the slight tremble of his shoulders.

“Go away, then,” she says confidently, and then, hastily, “oh, no, that’s not right -”

“Yasha,” Jester squeaks, horrified, and Essek, to his own surprise, laughs. More of a chuckle, really, but. That’s a relief, after all this.

He can place her roughly in the rightmost corner of the hot tub, turns just enough to catch her heterochromatic gaze in his periphery. Her mouth drops slightly open before she gathers herself. “I just, I meant -” She inhales nervously. “I used to leave all the time, to go do - things - and come back when I was ready. You can do that too, if you want, we won’t mind, as long as you come back. And the tickling - we’re all ticklish, you don’t have to feel bad about it - ah, maybe someone else should say something.”

Caduceus pats her shoulder. “Nah, that was pretty good.”

Essek agrees, despite his better judgment. He rolls his shoulders, forcing them loose. “No, no, that’s - helpful,” he assures, and then, taking a deep breath and praying that his cheeks have cooled, he turns to look at them all. “I am to show you my abode tomorrow, yes?”

Caleb looks extraordinarily stressed. “Ah, you don’t have to, if you would rather-”

Beau punches him in the shoulder harshly enough to make him wince. “Yes.”

“Yes, and breakfast pastries!” Jester cheers, clapping her hands together - he’ll have to talk to his staff tonight.

“Until tomorrow, then,” he says, and spares only a brief smile before casting Misty Step to take him to the door and then again to the street.

He’s not quite ready to lose all his dignity, yet.

[wlw-lovestruck-fiction]

Can we get a fluf fic where Mc tries to keep up with goofy/funny/silly/playful/sleepy/naughty Vivienne? Please I miss my babe😢

Pairing with: PLEASE ANY VIVIENNE X ZOE X MC FLUFFY WOULD BE APPRECIATED 🥺

PLEASE may I request ANY Vivienne x Zoe x MC fluff? Pretty please?…

...

In hindsight, you should have seen it coming. You didn’t even stop to think about where Vivienne had gone off to, used to her random disappearances in the morning and far too distracted with the newest episode of a show Zoe and you liked to wonder about it for long.

Almost buzzing with excitement, you enter Zoe’s room, dropping in the moving chair she has by her side and eagerly watching the screen.

“How much is left?”

“Half an hour, but I think we’ll manage.”

With nothing else to do but wait, you quickly dissolve into excited theorizing, while Zoe just sits there and listens, adding the occasional ‘uh-huh’ here and there. You both had worked out what the twist might be the other week, so you limit yourself to wondering about the characters themselves. That eventually turns into a discussion of ships.

Zoe isn’t much of a shipper, you’ve noticed. She keeps to the margin and analyses everything objectively, acknowledging character interactions but never focusing on them. You were the complete opposite, and a crack shipper to boot, which often clashes against Zoe’s logical side and sparks some amazing debates.

You’re in the middle of one right then when Remy interrupts, knuckles lightly tapping against the door’s side as he peers in, face blank as he looks at the two of you on your respective chairs, cocooned by a blanket, popcorn sitting on your laps. “I’ll never understand what you like so much about that show.”

“Excuse you,” Zoe huffs, angrily grabbing her soda and giving him a sour look. “It’s an amazing show.”

“Amazing!” You echo, as you have done many times before. “I am appalled you don’t see its genius, Remy! Appalled!”

“Right, sure. I remember you both were hysterical over the last cliffhanger. Did you figure out who the murderer is already?”

“Oh yeah,” you wave your hand around, as if dismissing the subject. “Last week. What we are discussing right now is why the prosecutor and the assistant are such a good pairing–” Zoe turns to look at you as if you had just proclaimed the sky was purple, and she looks so baffled you dissolve into a fit of giggles right then and there.

Remy smiles, shaking his head fondly, and stepping out without another word.

“Leaving that atrocious pairing aside…”

Zoe nudges the discussion into another direction and you allow it, satisfied with the reaction you got from her earlier. You’re both stealing anxious glances at the screen, excited to see that only a few minutes are left.

“This is it,” Zoe mutters softly. “The end of this case. The next one is going to be so weird.”

“We’ll probably find out what happen to the firefighter, right? Honestly, it just looks like they got abducted by aliens–”

“MC!” Rings a voice. Zoe scowls immediately, as if that was her standard reaction to Vivienne – or yet another interruption. Probably both.

“Hey babe, where were you?”

Vivienne’s smirk softens at the petname, quietly pleased. “Oh, you know, getting some things ready…”

“Huh? What, for the heist?”

“Something infinitely better.”

“What could be better than the heist?”

Her eyes gleam, dark pools of chocolate drawing you in like a sailor entranced by a siren’s call. “Why don’t you come with me and find out?”

Zoe groans.

“Can you stop being horny for–” her gaze drops quickly to the clock, “–24 minutes? It won’t kill you, will it?”

“You are always invited to join us, darling.”

“Pass.”

“Your loss,” Vivienne says, with a small shrug. “Then, MC–”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, sure babe, just gimme 24 minutes.”

“Twen– what?” Her eyes follow yours, locking onto the screen. “…Ah. Today is Monday. I forgot.”

“Prepared a whole ‘romantic’ outing for no reason, did you?” Zoe grins. “Sucks to be you.”

A light frown appears over Vivienne’s face. “It’s… only half an hour. I can manage that much.” She finally says, body turning slightly, as if she were on an internal war over leaving and staying.

“Great. You’re making progress, Tang.”

Vivienne rolls her eyes, most of her good mood visibly diminishing. She hesitates a second longer before turning in your direction, pursing her lips. “So– a show. I’m getting cockblocked because of a show.”

“A great show,” both Zoe and you say, nodding solemnly.

“But you already know how it’s going to end. Who the murderer is. MC, you told me that last week!”

“I mean, it’s only a theory Zoe and I have. We still need to see if it gets confirmed.”

“It surely will.” Zoe says, smugly. “The signs are all there. He won’t get away with it. The scarf will be his undoing, no doubt.”

“Wait, you’re still with that? It’s the statue! It’s too fishy! If they check it and–”

“MC, you can’t be serious–” Vivienne tries to interject, but Zoe quickly cuts her off with her own rebuttal to your argument, and the seductress gets this strange look on her face, gaze flicking between the screen, Zoe, and you, stunned for all of two seconds before she shakes her head, schooling her expression.

You distractedly wonder if she’ll leave, your attention quickly taken by the beginning of the opening notes of the show. You enter than zone where nothing else matters, nothing else exists but the screen and you are positively buzzing, mind racing with all the things that could possibly happen until a red blur passes in front of you, something heavy landing so unexpectedly on your lap it takes your breath away.

“Wha–”

“Ow! Hey! Vivienne?!”

It takes you a moment to understand what happened, snapping out of the concentrated state you were a few seconds ago. Vivienne has perched herself on top of your lap, curled there like a smug cat, her arms loosely wrapped around your neck and her gaze is so intense it sets your whole soul alight, consuming every thought you had previously.

You have the same reaction any person would have in this situation, which is, to have a full gay panic.

She– she feels so warm and she’s so close and oh god those eyes–

“Vivienne, what the hell!”

One glance to the right reveals what has Zoe so pissed: Vivienne has her legs high up in her direction, blocking her view of the screen. You don’t even know why she’s so mad, it’s a very nice view–

“The show just began! Are you really that salty?!”

Show? What sh– Ah. That show. Right.

You try to maneuver around Vivienne’s head to look at the computer, but one of Vivienne’s hands instantly grabs your chin, forcing you to look at her with a gentle but firm gesture. Barely, you catch her move her legs to block Zoe too.

“Eyes on me, partner.” She all but purrs, commanding, and your brain short-circuits when she presses herself against you.

“Really? Really?!”

Vivienne gives Zoe her best smoldering smirk. “Oh, I know that look. It’s okay, dear, you can go first… maybe bend me over the table–”

“I’m going to throw you out of the window–”

“Is that your kink, Zoe? Press me against the window, giving everyone full view of–”

“Oh my god–!”

Taking advantage of the situation, you try to peek at the screen again. Vivienne’s grip tightens, making you whimper slightly, her blazing brown eyes meeting yours again.

“Ah ah ah, what did I say? Do not disobey me.”

“Viv…”

“Keep looking at me, sweetheart. If I catch more wandering eyes, you’re going to regret it.”

“Ah… but I…”

Her eyes flash, her thumb tracing the lines of your lips roughly, effectively shutting you up. Vivienne looks pleased, all dark passion, grip softening. She starts tracing a line down to your throat, leaving a trail of tickling heat after the touch.

“Suffering from success, aren’t you, MC?” Zoe dryly states, maneuvering around Vivienne’s outstretched legs with a scowl that could give Nikolai’s a run for his money. She reaches for the back of the moving chair you had borrowed, beginning to push you. Vivienne makes a chocked sound of surprise low in her throat, tightening her hold over your neck. “That’s it. All I want is to watch my show in peace, no interruptions-”

“Um, our show-”

“-and no Vivienne being Vivienne for the next 20 minutes.”

“What am I supposed to be then?”

“Be a doormat for all I care, just do it outside my room!” She punctuates her statement with one final, fully determined push, sending you skidding towards the hallway. Vivienne thrusts her legs to the right, managing to use her weight just so to spin the chair in time. The back collides against the wall with a dull thump, and you barely see Zoe’s deadpan expression before she closes her door. “You better return my chair later!” Is all she says, presumably heading back to her computer.

“…aw, I wanted to see this episode.” You finally mumble, shoulders dropping dejectedly.

Vivienne blinks owlishly at you. “Isn’t the episode going to be available later?”

“Well, yeah, but I’m curious to see how the arrest will go. I don’t think I can wait another day.”

“Arrest. Such an ugly word, when you are a thief.” Vivienne hums, pressing into you just slightly, eyes alight with mirth. “You are quite taken with it regardless… Is it the thrill?”

“Uh…”

“You know, partner, if you want to be in cuffs so much, all you have to do is ask.”

Color spreads over your cheeks like spilled wine, sweet, impossible to hold back. Vivienne leans forward, eager for a taste, that smirk of hers firmly in place and you briefly wonder if you’ll just burst, too filled with surprise and frustration and a little bit of heat.

“Think only about me, MC.” Vivienne mutters, breath ghosting over the skin of your ear, coaxing a shy shiver out of you. The vibrations of her voice send ripples of emotion through you, make you groan slightly. Smirk widening, not caring one bit that you are still on the hallway, one of her hands drops down, down-

“20 minutes! Just 20 minutes!” A flash of gray. Vivienne’s startled squeak. Her grip loosens and she goes tumbling down your lap, the floor receiving her with its cold embrace. Zoe’s door slams shut – again – and your gaze drops, discovering the slipper resting by Vivienne’s hand with an amused snort.

“She got you good, huh?”

“She – just took me by surprise, is all.” Vivienne says, after a pause. You giggle, pushing yourself to your feet and offering her your hand, which she takes gratefully. She doesn’t let go, instead pulling you in the direction of the apartment’s exit, and you throw a longing look in the direction of Zoe’s room before accepting your fate.

You’ll have to watch that episode tomorrow, it seems.

[baoshan-sanren]

Chapter 37

of the wwx emperor au I’m thinking of calling Fuck the Canon: Happy Endings For Everyone

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 Part 1 | Chapter 8 Part 2 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 Part 1 | Chapter 15 Part 2 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 Part 1 | Chapter 22 Part 2 | Chapter 23 | Chapter 24 | Chapter 25 | Chapter 26 | Chapter 27 | Chapter 28 | Chapter 29 | Chapter 30 | Chapter 31 | Chapter 32 | Chapter 33 | Chapter 34 | Chapter 35 | Chapter 36

There is no tea.

Not only is there no tea, but the Emperor’s small private study, located just beyond his personal chambers, is distinctly lacking in any accommodations necessary to serve or consume tea.

Ordinarily, WangJi would find himself irritated, even by such a harmless deception. After five days spent in the Immortal Mountain, however, he finds that he has become more patient. Perhaps not with others, but certainly with the Emperor, whose careless attitude and playful nature seem to conceal a much more complex character, one that WangJi has grown to respect.

The Lan Sect does not listen to gossip, but their new lodgings in the Jade Sword Palace make gossip impossible to avoid. Wei WuXian had lingered by WangJi’s side long past midnight, sunrise only hours away by the time they had finally parted. Yet, great many things seem to have happened since then, each one significant enough to shake the Immortal Mountain to its roots.

Before noontime tea, the Young Master of the Jin Sect had seen his betrothal annulled, the Jiang Sect had fallen out of favor, Sect Leader Nie had been given a title, and the Council seems to hover on the verge of being dissolved.  

WangJi cannot begin to guess what all of these events mean, separate or together, but he knows that Wei WuXian could not have possibly had a sufficient amount of sleep. He also knows that the world of court schemes and maneuverings, as distasteful as he finds it to be, is an inevitable reality of Wei WuXian’s existence. A part of him is even slightly curious, tentatively attempting to forge a connection between these seemingly unconnected events. Another part of him feels pity, that Wei WuXian cannot begin his day without some sort of upheaval.  

Even now, standing by the desk, wrapped in the heavy, intricate layers of the Imperial dragon robes, the Emperor is all exhaustion and tension. Less than a dozen hours have passed since they had seen each other last; WangJi had spent those hours in the peace and silence of the Imperial guest chambers. Wei WuXian looks as if he had spent them on the battleground, fighting for his life.

Still, when he sees WangJi, his face tranforms.

“Lan Zhan.”

WangJi nods in response. He is not sure when he had become fond of the way Wei WuXian says his name, but he can no longer deny the inevitable elation following on its heels. Each time, his name comes with an accompanying smile, and each time, that smile is for him alone.

“I hope you were not expecting tea,” Wei WuXian says ruefully.

WangJi does not dignify that with a response. One must adjust their expectations when faced with an Emperor who runs barefoot over the rooftops, and becomes unreasonably excited over rabbits.

“Uh, right,” Wei WuXian says, “there is something I need you to see.”

The bookcase behind the desk is filled to bursting. Perhaps, if it were only used to hold books, there would be plenty of space, and little to no chaos. But Wei WuXian seems to have filled the shelves with anything that could fit, and many things that could not, creating a precarious mess of objects that could topple at the smallest disturbance. There are numerous jade figurines of all sizes, small pots, boxes and ink stones, a few odd shapes that resemble children’s toys, books and scrolls crammed in between the objects, all with no sense or order.

It is a surprise when Wei WuXian manages to pull out three books and a flat box hiding behind them, without knocking anything to the ground. WangJi realizes that he has shifted to stand on his toes, fully expecting to have to provide assistance, or perhaps even protection from any wayward object that may come flying off the shelf to cause potential injury. No such thing occurs, however, and he places his heels back down, feeling silly for his overabundance of caution.

The flat box looks plain and light. Inside, it holds a single piece of paper, although it is immediately obvious that the paper is an Imperial Order, the Emperor’s stamp bright and bold, and difficult to miss.

WangJi does not expect Wei WuXian to simply offer the paper for perusal, without ceremony, and without any hint as to what the Order holds.

He is even more confused once he realizes that the paper is actually a declaration of succession. In the event of Wei WuXian’s death, the throne is to pass to--

He blinks. The Imperial Order is not long, for there is not much to the actual succession except naming the heir. Still, WangJi reads it again, just to be certain that he has not read the name in error.

He has not.

Well.

While he is reading, Wei WuXian is fidgeting. The dragon robes are not designed for such impatient movement, and WangJi resists the urge to grab him by the shoulders, and tell him to stop plucking at the golden thread on his sleeves. The robe probably costs more than thirty villages are capable of producing in a year.

He offers the paper back.

“I do not understand.”

“Which part?” Wei WuXian says slowly, and WangJi blinks at him.

Is there more than one part to the succession? No, he has read it twice.

“I do not understand why I need to know this,” WangJi clarifies.

“Oh,” Wei WuXian says, smiling again, but it is a nervous smile, as jittery as his hands, “This-- it is important. The-- line of succession. The person I intend to marry should know that the heir has already been chosen.”

WangJi narrows his eyes. He feels as if he had missed a part of their conversation.

His mind inevitably turns to the rumors that had flown rampant in the palace that same morning; the new title granted to the Nie Sect Leader, the dissolution of the Young Master Jin’s betrothal, and the possible dissolution of the Council.

Does-- Wei WuXian mean to marry Jin ZiXuan? It is a preposterous idea. Absolutely ridiculous.

But even so, WangJi suddenly finds that Jin ZiXuan cannot be allowed to live. WangJi will challenge him to a fight, then remove each and every one of his limbs, starting with his head. This should not be difficult to accomplish.

“You are angry,” Wei WuXian says, “I should have-- perhaps I should not have begun with the line of succession. I am not good at--“ he waves his hand, as if the motion is somehow supposed to make his words less incoherent.

He looks agitated and unhappy, and WangJi wants to help, but he is not sure how.

“You want to marry,” he says, trying to establish some logical narrative.

“Yes,” Wei WuXian says, “I want to marry. And before you disagree, I am aware that five days is an extremely limited amount of time to truly get to know another person. I have already gotten a lecture about this from A-Sang. And I have already gotten a lecture from your uncle, who can be extremely rude while remaining polite, a skill I admire, but do not want to confront again. Not if I can help it. And I-- I know life in the Immortal Mountain is probably not what you had in mind if-- if you had marriage in mind. Before today. But I think-- if you are willing to give it a chance, I could make you happy. I would like to try. To make you happy.”

There is a lag in WangJi’s understanding, as each sentence needs to be rearranged in his own mind, just so he can comprehend its meaning. Still, even with the lag, it takes him an abominably long time to fully grasp what Wei WuXian is saying.

Once he does, he finds himself shocked into stillness.

“Are you--“ Wei WuXian looks as if he means to move closer, than stops himself at the last moment, “You look-- more angry now. Than before. I understand that this is not an ideal proposal, what with the-- lack of gifts and ceremony and everything else, but--“

He sighs, apparently forgetting that his hair is neatly arranged, because his fingers make a mess of it in moments.

“An offer of marriage should not make you angry, Lan Zhan. I thought we-- does the idea of it bother you that much?”

WangJi needs to speak. Wei WuXian is capable of drawing thousands of incorrect conclusions before WangJi can formulate a single sentence, and WangJi needs to prevent this from happening, as soon as possible. But what is he supposed to say?

Clarify. This is always a good strategy, especially with Wei WuXian.

“Are you asking me to marry you?” WangJi says carefully, fully expecting Wei WuXian to laugh and deny it.

He believes that he had made his peace with the fact that the Emperor really likes him, whatever that means, when coming from a Divine Ruler. But marriage is-- something else entirely.

Even saying it out loud sounds ridiculous.

“Yes!” Wei WuXian exclaims, “Yes, I am asking you to marry me.”

“Why?” WangJi blurts out, incredulous.

“Why?” Wei WuXian repeats, the dumfounded expression on his face a perfect reflection of WangJi’s own feelings, “wh-- what do you mean, why? Because I fell in love with you. Why else would I marry someone?”

“You--“ WangJi’s throat is completely dry, and seems to have shrank into nothingness.

It is difficult to breathe, let alone form words.

This is utterly ridiculous. The most ridiculous thing WangJi has even heard, seen, or experienced, in his entire life.

And yet, he wants to hear it again. He wants Wei WuXian to say it again. The rush he had felt at those words cannot be described. It is obliterating.

Wei WuXian inches closer, his posture careful, “I still cannot tell when you are just angry, or so furious that you might try and kill me, so-- do not try and kill me? I should have probably led with the declaration of love, huh? I can try again. Lan Zhan, I am in love with you. I would really like it if you would marry me, and become the Emperor Consort. Your uncle has already given permission, and the Council is about to do so as well, or Empire will no longer have a Council. The throne already has an heir, so the succession is nothing to worry about. And since I cannot imagine sharing my life with anyone else, I can swear to take no other spouse, as long as we are both alive in the world. Is that better? Did--“

WangJi does not plan to move.

He does not plan anything. The chaos of thoughts and emotions rushing through his mind can hardly be called thinking, let alone planning. Therefore, he is astonished to find himself acting so brashly. But Wei WuXian does not waste a single moment with something so banal as surprise.

His arms immediately wrap around WangJi’s shoulders, as if they belong there. There is a faint, lingering taste of pears and honey on his lips. His mouth is soft, his breaths hot and fast, his heartbeat a forceful thunder against WangJi’s chest. The exquisite texture of the Imperial dragon robe under his hands has nothing on the actual shape of Wei WuXian’s waist. WangJi can feel the ridges of his spine through the material, enticing but also fragile, and raked with barely perceptible tremors.

Wei WuXian smiles against his mouth, then laughs, his lips pressing a quick kiss to the tip of WangJi’s nose.

“Is that a yes?” he says, “Please tell me that means yes.”

WangJi is not yet capable of forming words. An extremely advantageous hindrance, because he cannot simply accept an offer of marriage, regardless of his feelings.

The bright smile on Wei WuXian’s face begins to fade, and WangJi feels panic, that he cannot explain himself quickly and succinctly, the way the situation demands.

“Lan Zhan?”

“I cannot accept,” WangJi says.

Wei WuXian blinks at him, then shifts slightly, as if to pull away. WangJi refuses to release him, his arms wrapping more securely around the silk-clad waist, fingers clutching handfuls of delicate material.

Perhaps he does so with more strength and urgency than necessary, because Wei WuXian stumbles, catching himself against WangJi’s chest.

“I want to accept,” he clarifies, “but I cannot. I must speak to uncle first.”

“Oh,” Wei WuXian says, “That-- but he-- I have already spoken to your uncle.”

“You have spoken to many people,” WangJi points out, “Everyone whose opinion you care to hear. Other than myself.”

Wei WuXian huffs, his restless fingers now plucking at the thread of WangJi’s robes instead of his own. WangJi would grab his hands to prevent it, but this would mean releasing his hold, and he does not think he is capable of doing so, at least not yet.

“I should be allowed to do the same,” WangJi says, “You must give me time.”

Wei WuXian’s fingers have now found their way to the collar of WangJi’s robes, and the brush of them against the skin of his neck is extremely distracting. The logical part of his brain insists that this is an inappropriate way to have a serious conversation. A marriage, especially one that would make him the Emperor Consort to the Divine Ruler of the Shan Empire is perhaps the most serious conversation that can possibly be conceived.

But Wei WuXian’s hair smells like pears, sweet and heavy, and he keeps biting his already reddened lip. The other part of WangJi’s brain, the one that does not care for logic or propriety, insists that he should stop speaking and kiss him again, regardless of the seriousness of the conversation.

Lan Zhan, I am in love with you.

His arms tighten of their own volition, and Wei WuXian huffs out a laugh. It is a small laugh however, and there is and nervous edge to it, carrying over into his voice.

“How much time? Because-- what if-- what if you think about it, and then-- decide that you do not want to marry me?”

“Then, I suppose you will have to marry Nie HuaiSang,” WangJi deadpans.

Wei WuXian splutters for a few moments, the expression on his face rapidly shifting from shock to displeasure to pure exasperation. Considering how many times Wei WuXian has managed to exasperate him in turn, WangJi does not feel bad.

“Do not joke,” Wei WuXian says, “I am serious. Your uncle had given permission, but he does not like me, and he will tell you all the reasons why marrying me is a terrible--“

“Wei Ying,” WangJi says, effectively cutting off the flow of words, “I want to marry you. I will not change my mind. But you must give me time.”

He is utterly unprepared for Wei WuXian’s bright smile, the warm glow of delight that washes over his face, the tiny crinkles in the corners of his eyes. He is even less prepared to be kissed again, but he is more than willing, Wei WuXian’s mouth eagerly searching for his own.  

They should have spent the past five days kissing. Any moment that WangJi had not been kissing Wei WuXian now feels an unacceptable waste of time, one he has every intention to remedy. Although Wei WuXian seems as invested in this plan as he is, he cannot seem to help smiling into the kiss, his lips often darting to press to WangJi’s cheek, his chin, the side of his nose. It is sweet and silly, his restless excitement, and WangJi is now certain that Wei WuXian had been right.

He will be more than capable of making WangJi happy.

[tenspontaneite]

Beyond the Moon Gardens - Extracts (1)

For lack of anything else to post today, I’m releasing some extracts from one of my non-public fanfictions – Beyond the Moon Gardens – as my participation in the @raayllum valentine’s event.

Information on and context of the story itself is below the cut. The 10k of snippets are also below the cut.

(General overview of the content of the snippets: established rayllum, fluff, domesticity, horn care, silliness, cuddling.)

-

Story information:

‘Beyond the Moon Gardens’ is a successor to ‘In the Moon Gardens’. The former was written in a month in late 2020, and has been worked on sporadically since. The latter was written in approximately three weeks between December 2019 and January 2020. Both are currently incomplete. I do not intend to publish either to the public in full, but may well post further extracts in time.

‘In the Moon Gardens’ is a story about Callum and Rayla getting married; however, the circumstances are deeply unpleasant and the experience is traumatic. ‘Beyond the Moon Gardens’ is considerably longer, and is focused on trauma recovery, hurt/comfort, relationship development, and fluff. The story is structured around a plotline involving rescue and disaster relief efforts in a Sunfire elf city called Lux Marea.

All snippets presented below take place on day 7 of the story’s timeline. They have been carefully curated for fluffiness for the purposes of Valentine’s day, and do not contain any of the hurt/comfort or post-traumatic scenes prevalent in the story at large. Some extracts have been edited to slot together and minimise empty space.

I may potentially post further snippets throughout the week if people are interested.

-

The extracts:

(Snippet 1: domesticity, fluff, city descriptions. Context: Callum and Rayla are staying in fancy diplomatic quarters in the city, where they arrived somewhat earlier in the day.)

Rayla turned away from her reflection and went for the door.

She glanced around, and found Callum in his own robe sat at the sofa in front of the window. Surprisingly, he wasn’t drawing. He was just staring out across the city, looking pensive.

“Not drawing?” She asked, and he startled, looking up at her in surprise.

He blinked. “Oh. I didn’t hear you.” He said sheepishly as she approached.

She snorted, and moved around the sofa’s edge to plant herself down beside him. “So I noticed.”

Callum smiled at her, looking for all the world like the best thing that had happened to him today was her sitting down next to him, eyes settling on her like he’d be perfectly happy to do nothing but look at her forever. She withstood that expression for only a single second before she had to lean in and kiss him. He made a pleased sound, reaching out to rest a hand on her back, fingers stroking reflexively over the thick wool of the robe. “You smell nice.” He said happily, turning his face sideways to tuck his nose behind her ear. He was undoubtedly getting a face full of wet hair that way, but he didn’t seem to mind. “Fruity, sort of.”

“They’ve got a lot of soaps in there.” She said, and her voice came out more soft than amused. Stars, but she loved him. “It’s nice. There’s all these soaps, and towels, and I think bath oils too.”

“You think?” He inquired, curious, still with his face in her neck. He pressed a kiss to her damp skin.

“Didn’t check them out properly or anything, but there was a drawer full of some fancy stuff. Bottles and the like. Looked like it might be bath oils.”

With a final kiss to the edge of her jaw, he pulled back to resume staring at her contentedly. “We’ll have to have a look later.” He said, and paused to give her an appreciative once-over. “That dressing gown looks nice on you.”

She rolled her eyes. “You say that about literally everything I wear.”

“That’s because you look good in everything.” He claimed staunchly, and honestly, he wasn’t looking half-bad in his dressing-gown either. The colour was familiar on him, but the casual comfortableness of it was weirdly pleasing to look at. Made him look cosy and cuddlable.

Rayla shook her head, then leaned in to kiss briefly along his jaw. It prickled a little. “You might want to see if they’ve got razors in there.” She said dryly. “You’re starting to prickle.”

He blinked, startled, and raised a hand to his jaw, feeling along it. Mercifully, he grew facial hair extremely slowly, making it less of an issue on the move, but it did still grow. He’d last made an attempt at shaving some two weeks ago, and that had sufficed up to now. “Elves don’t grow beards, though.” He said, after a moment. “I’d probably better just stick with mine.”

Once or twice, they’d made an attempt at shaving his bristles with Rayla’s swords, which had been kind of nerve-wracking, and plenty memorable. For lack of proper razors to be found in Xadia, they’d eventually ended up getting him a small knife that he claimed was alike enough to a ‘straight razor’ to work, though it periodically needed to be sharpened to an absurd degree. It was all very strange to her, even after a good half year of living with him. “Maybe.” She agreed at last, and gave him a sniff. Fresh from bathing, his state of uncleanliness was far more obvious to her nose than it had been before. “You should be getting washed up first though. You’ll make your dressing gown stink.”

He snickered. “Bet I reek to you now that you’re clean.”

“Just a tad.” She prodded him in the side until he started moving. “Off with you. Wash up.”

Evading her hands, he leaned in and planted a final kiss on her forehead before leaving, disappearing into the bathroom while she shook her head at him. She heard the water start up quite soon after, and eventually ended up staring out of the window like he had.

The city was still bright, both with sunlight and with the ongoing glory of the temple’s radiance. Settling into a sort of quiet lassitude, she watched it with eyes half-lidded, following the patterns of steaming light as though the smoke from a fire.

It was a striking city. Unlike Lux Aurea, which was so much gold it hurt to look at, Lux Marea was a thing of contrasts. The buildings were all built from the same dark stone as the bathroom had been done in, a grey that cast deep black shadows behind the gaze of the sun. And yet – every building was lined with gold. Accents on the corners, or moulding between the bricks, or running in thick channels up the walls…it gleamed, rich and distinct against the stone. Some of the largest, richest buildings had elaborate golden murals on their sides, luridly metallic and shining in the sun. All of that gold was glowing with magic now.

Rayla wasn’t much for aesthetics. But even she could appreciate the beauty in that view. She watched it for a while longer, lulled a little by the twisting patterns of glowing haze rising from the buildings, then stood and went to find something to do.

 -

 (Snippet 2: Calum and Rayla investigate the supplies their fancy bathroom is stocked with, discover bath bombs and are confused, Rayla points out various horn-care items, and Callum makes her very flustered by offering to use said items)

  After that, they went through and classified each of the mysterious drawer goodies a little faster. They found more varieties of lotion, some weird nearly liquid soaps, and a pot of some mysterious mini chalky spheres whose purpose neither of them managed to guess until Callum’s hair dripped on one and it sizzled. “Is it supposed to go in water?” Rayla wondered, befuddled.

“No idea. Try it.” He suggested, and they took the rinsing pot, filled it with water, and dropped the thing in. It fizzed and foamed magnificently, releasing pleasant odours and bits of dried flower as it dissolved, and both of them stared at it with fascinated consternation.

“Is that for baths?” She asked him, befuddled. “What’s the point?”

“…Fun, maybe?” He offered, reaching out to swirl a finger in the foam. “It looked pretty cool, after all. Maybe you’re supposed to throw them in the bath for the fun of it?”

“Fun foam and nice smells?” With a huff, she put that pot aside as something to maybe experiment with if she felt like it. “Well, maybe.” She snorted, and in the last unexplored corner, found something highly important. “Oh thank god.” She said, in that way she’d absolutely picked up from Callum, and he looked over with interest.

“What did you find?”

She brandished it triumphantly. “Toothbrushes.”

“Oh thank god.” He echoed instantly, peering over. “My teeth feel disgusting.”

“You’re not the only one.” She withdrew both toothbrushes from the drawer and set them aside. “Well, at least we know what everything in there is now. Mystery solved.” She went to close it, but was stopped with a hand on her wrist.

“Wait, but what about those?” he asked, indicating the small collection of things she’d already set to one side of the drawer with the horn-scrub.

“Oh.” She’d forgotten he wouldn’t know those on sight. “Right. Well, this thing here-“ She plucked up a narrow, vaguely curved implement with a soft-smooth coating. “-is a horn buffer. For making horns smoother once you’ve already scrubbed all the rough bits out with a proper scrub.” She planted it in his hands, since he seemed fascinated by it, and withdrew a sort of soft spongey thing with a texture like felt. “Horn polisher. Same thing, kind of.” He took that as well, and she pulled out a pot of thick paste that turned out to be exactly what she thought it was when she uncapped it. This one had obviously attempted to smell as pleasant as possible, but it still had a very strong and distinctive edge to it. She wrinkled her nose. “Horn polish.” She said, closing it up again. “To be applied and used with the polisher. And lastly-“ She picked up one of the remaining bottles, “horn oil.”

He looked weirdly interested. “What’s the oil for?” He asked, leaning in. “I mean, I guess the rest of it’s to make your horns smooth and shiny, right? So what about this?”

“It’s kind of fancy and unnecessary, and expensive, so not everyone uses it, but usually you put it on after scrubbing or polishing.” She explained, withdrawing the bottles one at a time. “They smell nice, which is good after the polish, and letting it sink into the horns is supposed to make them healthier and glossier-looking. You can technically put it on multiple times a day if you’re really into your horn presentation, but pretty much no one bothers.”

“Because it’s expensive?” Callum guessed, and she made a so-so noise.

“Well, there’s that.” She said dryly. “But it’s just kind of a lot of hassle, you know? If you’re already washing and doing your hair and keeping your horns not-gross, it’s just extra fuss you don’t really need.” She shook her head. “It’s less effort than full on polishing, I suppose, but I’ve never been bothered about polishing my horns except on special occasions anyway. It’s a lot of work.”

“Huh.” He said, in a sort of weird tone of voice. Rayla turned to him, and found his expression similarly strange. Thoughtful, interested, and a little bit furtive.

She eyed him suspiciously, picked up an armful of the supplies they’d set aside, and stood up with them. “What’s that look for?” She asked archly, setting things onto the broad side of the bath. He followed her lead, picking up the rest of it and standing, looking a little shifty.

“What’s what look for?” he asked innocently, putting it all out in neat rows.

“I know that face.” She told him, unimpressed. “I’ve told you so many times I know that face. That’s your dumb idea face. So out with it.”

For a moment, Callum looked sheepish. Then he cleared his throat, and looked at her, and she reflexively fell silent. “I…was wondering if you’d let me do your horns.” He said at last, and she made a strangled noise in the back of her throat.

“What?”

  -

 (Snippet 3: tail end of the horn-care discussion, domesticity, Rayla bemused by the concept of room service, Callum pestering Rayla for details on how horn care works, and discussion of one of Rayla’s newer hobbies)

 “That’ll be nice, then.” He said, sounding very at peace with the idea. “I can wash and comb out your hair, maybe. Give you some hornrubs.”

Her cheeks heated. “Callum.” She complained. “That’s so sappy.”

He pressed his face close alongside hers, and she could feel his smile against her cheek. “Treat you real good.” He said, very contentedly. “I’m gonna spoil you rotten.”

Rayla managed a strangled, deeply embarrassed sound in the back of her throat. A little indignant, she protested “You can’t just say things like that.”

“I can, and I did.” Callum grinned against her skin, and leaned in further to kiss her near the corner of her lips. “Love you.” He lifted a hand from around her waist, fingers settling at her jaw with a gentle suggestion of movement. Feeling near to bursting with mortification and adoration, she grumbled wordlessly but followed his hand, allowing him to lead her face around so he could kiss her on the mouth.

“You,” she muttered, into his lips, “need to get dressed.”

He paused, then huffed a surprised breath over her skin. “That’s right, I’m still just wearing a towel.” He remembered, ruefully. “At least I’m drier now.”

“It’s been ages, of course you’re drier.” Rayla shook her head at him, then nudged at his arms until he let her go, extricating herself from his embrace. She had difficulty looking him in the eye when she turned, after all of that. “…Get dressed.” She repeated, softer, and shoved the dressing gown he’d hung nearby into his arms. She leaned in, kissed him once on the lips, and then turned away to leave the bathroom.

She settled on the sofa, ensconcing herself beneath the soft blanket she’d found, and stared out at the city while her heart recovered. Sometimes, she loved Callum enough that it was a little hard to cope with, like she was afraid that the emotion in her would rupture if it built too far. He was used to her retreating a little at times like that, just long enough to breathe and feel slightly less overwhelmed.

He took long enough in the bathroom that, eventually, she guessed that he was shaving. That disappointed her, a little. She liked to watch him when he shaved. It was always so strange to her, something quintessentially human; a bizarre banal grooming ritual that reminded her again and again that he wasn’t an elf, he really was a whole different kind of being to her, and his humanity was made of so many little things. He never failed to chuckle at her for how she watched him shaving, but had grown very used to her keeping him company for it.

She sighed, and looked out on the city under the sun, and regained her emotional footing. By the time he emerged, clad once again in the dark red dressing gown, she had her equilibrium back and looked up gladly at his return.

“Where’d this blanket come from?” He asked, bemused, coming over to join her. She held one end up so he could sit down under it with her.

“One of the drawers. There’s a bunch of stuff in here.” She informed, and once he was seated she didn’t waste any time in reaching out to run her fingers along his still-damp jaw. It was so smooth. She murmured, pleased, cupping his face between both hands.

He coloured a little, looking across at her with soft eyes. “You’re so weird.” He told her, sounding utterly besotted, and she leaned in to kiss him lightly along that jawline.

“Love you.” Rayla said contentedly, and drew back just enough to nestle firmly against his side. He wove an arm around her back and turned his head to kiss her at the brow.

“Love you too.”

After a good bit of cuddling and watching the city together, Callum admitted to wanting a drink and Rayla to not knowing whether their waterskins were still filled. They were, as it happened, but-

“You know, if you wanted fresher water, or moonberry juice, we could just ask for it.” He pointed out. “All we’d have to do is open the door and ring a bell and someone would come up, and we’d ask for a drink, and they’d have it up for us just like that.”

She shook her head, utterly exasperated at the idea. “That’s so weird.” She said, and then actually considered it. “…Let’s do it.”

He laughed, and obligingly got up and went to the receiving room to fetch the bell. He mostly-closed the intervening door for her sake, so that when a servant responded to the ring she didn’t feel particularly on edge about it. They couldn’t see her. It was fine.

After a short conversation with the servant, they were off, and Callum shut the outer door before returning. “Five minutes.” He said, and true to his words, there was a knock at the door not too much later. He went to answer it and brought back an actual platter, balancing an entire jug of moonberry juice, an entire jug of water, and two glasses.

“Did you ask for a whole jug?” She asked, disbelievingly, as he set it down on the low table ahead of the sofa. “Or the water?”

“Nope. Actually, they passed along their apologies for not leaving a jug of water in here in the first place. Apparently that’s their usual thing to do, but since they were hurrying for us it got forgot.” He poured her a glass of juice, and then some for himself, and sat back.

She snorted. “What a terrible standard of service.” She said, mockingly. “I mean really, forgetting to leave us wee little glasses and chilled water, what is this place coming to?”

He snickered at an inopportune moment, very nearly making a mess with the glass he’d been in the process of drinking from. “Don’t say that around Vervain, I think she’d actually explode.”

“Right there on the spot.” Rayla agreed. “It’d make a terrible mess.”

They traded a few light-hearted quips on the subject of the accommodations while they had a drink, then they set it all aside for later. Callum, who was clearly angling for it, managed to get her onto the topic of how exactly a proper horn care-and-polish was supposed to go, and she spent pretty much the entirety of that torn between being increasingly embarrassed and increasingly amused. He was so interested, like she was sharing arcane magical knowledge instead of stupid basic grooming tips.

“I mean, I’ve seen you using your horn-scrub on the road sometimes, to file away rough or flaky bits, right?” He was saying, while she leaned over to lay against his chest. He reflexively put an arm around her even while gesturing with the other one. “You kind of go…with the sort of curvy lines in your horns? Like one at a time?”

“They’re called ridges, Callum.” She informed him, incredibly amused. “And yes. You need to file along them all one by one, and be careful to keep the shape too. If you do it badly you’ll flatten out the tops of the ridges and it looks really stupid.”

He stared down at her horns with fascination, and lowered his gesturing hand to trace the shape of – she presumed – one of her horn-ridges in detail. She made a flustered sort of murmur at him, but he seemed too busy to notice. “Right, so, hm.” He almost seemed to be speaking to himself. “Yeah, if you just file it from the top it’d all flatten out. So you have to sort of work around each one? Following the curve?”

“That’s why Moonshadow horn-scrubs are so much more complicated.” She informed him. “We need the wee fiddly parts to get between all the ridges and file it right without losing the shapes. Takes forever. Our horns are more of a pain than almost any other kind of elf’s.” She grinned up at him. “Unlucky for you.”

“Are you kidding?” He asked, incredulously. “This is great. Means I get so much longer to spend on you. You never let me spoil you enough.”

She processed that, and groaned, burrowing her face into the wool gown over his chest. “You’ll change your tune soon enough.” She muttered, but wasn’t entirely convinced. Callum really was an incredible sap when it came to doing things for her. “It takes so stupidly long.”

“I’m counting on it.” He declared happily, and she huffed.

“You’re ridiculous.” She informed him, and after nearly ten more minutes of him trying to wrangle intricately detailed horn-polishing knowledge out of her, just rolled her eyes and said with exasperation “It’s like polishing armour, Callum. Or boots. You just buff it up, then go at it with polish on the polisher for ages. There’s not much of a trick to it.” She paused, but did add “Gets kind of messy though. The filing stage puts horn dust and bits everywhere, and once you start polishing you get like…murky polish liquid all over your hands. Better put a towel down.”

Eventually, after enough sitting around that the cuddling alone wasn’t engrossing enough anymore, Callum did go and get his sketchbook and immediately sat down to begin producing what Rayla was certain would be the first of many, many drawings of the city. He drew it as seen from above first, and Rayla settled in to watch with half-lidded eyes.

She’d grown very used to spending time watching Callum draw. In large part, this was because he tended to spend a lot of his free time doing it, and she was often around when that happened. It was quite satisfying, to sit there and observe as the shapes on the page took form. But even so…

There was only so much of watching him draw that she could do before she started getting bored. Throughout their journeying, it had rarely got to that point. What with the time constraints of camp-craft and travelling, there’d been little enough spare time that Rayla hadn’t felt compelled to find anything else to do. Now, though, she found with surprise that her fingers were itching for her knives.

“Huh.” She said to herself, with interest, and Callum turned his head to peer at her.

“Hm?”

“My knives.” She said, and then realised this wasn’t especially helpful. “My carving knives. Just realised I’m hankering for them a bit. That’s never really happened before.”

“Oh.” He thought, then looked pleased. “Looks like you’re starting to make a habit of it after all. That’s really nice.”

“Less nice when I don’t actually have the knives.” She snorted, and considered her empty hands.

Rayla, on the whole, tended towards active ways of passing the time. She liked to train, and she liked to exercise, and if Callum was free she always liked to go flying with him. But inevitably, after half a year spent together, there had been plenty of afternoons and evenings in their off-time when she was too tired to go out for training, or Callum was spending time drawing and she wanted to be around him, and she ended up with nothing to do.

He’d been the one to gently pester her into taking up some sort of hobby. At first she’d just grumpily sharpened her weapons over and over again, but with enough work he’d got her to try other things. He’d suggested either knitting or whittling, on the basis that both involved the use of stabby implements, and she was a fan of those. Knitting she hadn’t taken to. But whittling…

At first, she’d just done it because he’d prodded her into it, and she didn’t hate it, and there was nothing better to do, so she might as well. But now, considering her empty hands with consternation, Rayla realised for the first time that she actually kind of wanted to be doing it. When had that happened?

He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Pick up some things in the city tomorrow, maybe.” He suggested, and turned back to his drawing.

“Bit of a waste, when I’ve got a plenty good enough set of knives at home.”

“You don’t need to get a full set. But it could be nice to have a couple of the main ones around, for travelling with.” He shrugged. “You can practice on any random bits of wood, right? So it’s mainly the knives you need.”

She snorted. She’d learned enough to know that the type of wood one chose was, in fact, very important. But…yeah, for messing around like she did, random wood was usually fine. If splintery. “Maybe.” She said in the end, already thinking of the knife she used most. “It’s not a bad idea. Clothes and supplies are the priority, though. So maybe if there’s anything left after that.”

“We’ll need cold-weather gear, if we’re going through the Shiverthorns in winter.” He remarked, and huddled into the blanket like the mere thought was making him cold. “Thick cloaks and stuff.”

“Which are expensive.” She reminded. “And also heavy. It’ll slow you down.”

He shrugged. “I figure that’s okay. We won’t be in a huge hurry to get back, after all.”

  -

 (Snippet 4: Callum and Rayla discuss dinner options, watch the sunset, and investigate the light fixtures. Context: in this story, I worldbuild Sunfire elves as some weird blend of French and Roman.)

  He hummed by way of agreement, and pulled her tighter in to his side. “For now, let’s try not to worry about that.” He said, determinedly. “Today our job is to relax and rest up, and that’s it.”

Rayla sighed, and shifted around to lay part-way across his front, face half into the red wool at his chest. “I can probably do that.”

They cuddled for what actually didn’t end up being that long, because there was a knock at the door. It echoed sharply through the polished wood, even with the intervening door closed. Rayla, who’d heard no footsteps of any kind due to the ostensible soundproofing, stiffened immediately.

Callum blinked, then carefully extricated himself from her. “I’ll go get it.” He said, and she didn’t object. She didn’t relish the thought of being seen by strangers when she was in her bathrobe. That was private.

He unlocked and opened the receiving room door, closed it behind him, and then unlocked and opened the outer door. There was actually a decent degree of sound loss between there and Rayla’s current spot, so she couldn’t hear what was being said beyond stray words. After a while, Callum said something in a distinctly goodbye-ish sort of voice and the encounter ended. He considerately locked both doors for her on his way in.

Over his arm, he was holding a neat stack of clothing and armour. “Already?” She asked, startled, and watched as he set it all down on the bed.

“Already.” He agreed, seemingly pleased. “I guess their drying spells really are useful. Look, they’ve cleaned your armour. And our boots.”

Rayla lifted herself from beneath the blanket to go over and look. All of their things looked fresh and new, bereft of the dull beige hues imbued by travel and sleeping in dust and dirt. It half looked like they’d re-dyed some of it, honestly, to get the clean colours back. She lifted Callum’s scarf from the pile, sniffed it, and hummed at it.

“Laundry smell?” He asked, amused, and she shrugged.

“Unsurprisingly.” She considered putting it on him, but in the end decided she was enjoying the look of him in the bathrobe, all cosy and comfy-looking. “What else were you talking about?”

“Hm?”

“With the servant.”

“Oh.” He paused to collect his thoughts. “Dinner stuff. He wanted to tell me the options they’ve got, so we can order ahead of time.”

Rayla made a thoughtful noise, and drew him by the wrist back over to the sofa again. “And?”

“You want me to list it all off?” She nodded, and obligingly he went off listing the various items on the menu, many of which were evidently examples of bizarre Sunfire ideas about cooking. Snails, really? Frog legs? Her nose wrinkled at that one, and Callum’s lips quirked. “They serve glow toad too.” He admitted ruefully. “I mean, I guess I heard they were delicious, but it’s one thing to hear it and another thing to have it on the menu, you know?”

She made a face. “Ez would never forgive us.”

“Bait would never forgive us.” He agreed, snickering.

“And besides – ew.” Rayla shook her head, and waved her hand. “What else?”

He went through all of the selections, drinks and desserts included, and then finished up by saying “He left a sort of booklet thing behind with it all written down, if you want to look over it.”

She stared at him with exasperation. “Callum. You really just stood there and said it all when you could have just handed me the bloody menu?”

“Well, you did ask.” He said, like this was reasonable, and she sighed fondly at him.

“You dumb prince.” She told him, affectionate, and leaned in to kiss him on the cheek before going to look for the menu.

By this point, it was around four in the afternoon, and the sun seemed to be making a very definite bid for descent. She retrieved the Booklet of Food Options and retreated to the sofa with it, where Callum had already planted himself to watch the city. There was a hint of yellow-green in the bright clear sky, and the angle of light from the sinking sun was casting some particularly dramatic shadows. The temple was still gleaming with light off to the side, and the golden circuitry through the city still exhaling. She stared at it for a moment, certain that tonight’s sunset really was going to be spectacular, and then opened the menu to start looking.

It had been long enough since lunch that the sight of so many food options was plenty enough to make her start considering the idea of an early dinner. In an hour or two, maybe. Some of it was too weird or too exotic to consider, but there was a lot that wasn’t.

She passed the booklet over when she was done making selections, but Callum seemed too occupied with the burgeoning sunset to want to look at it. She snorted, leaned in to kiss him on the cheek, and then leaned comfortably into his side to watch the city.

The sun fell over a period of around half an hour, sinking lower and lower, until the sky filled with such intense yellows and deep reds that it seemed almost to have caught fire. The grey slate of the city turned bloody red in the light, every golden trace lit up and shining in the growing dark. The few wispy clouds left in the sky were shining too, until the sun began to pass beneath the lip of the sea on the horizon, and the blue-green edges of the dusk glittered with stars.

“That,” He said, very softly, when dusk was ebbing into twilight, “was a really incredible view.”

Rayla had little artistry in her heart, but she’d appreciated that sunset. She knew that by contrast it must have touched Callum deeply. She looked at him, taking in his expression, finding it every bit as amazed and awed and happy as she could have hoped for. Her heart fluttered, happy for that he was happy, and in the warmth of that contentment she reached over to cup his cheek with her hand.

He looked at her, leaning into the hand, and offered her a small and very soft smile. Her thumb smoothed over his cheek as he lifted his hand to settle atop hers. Wordless, she leaned in to kiss him, warm and brief, and lingered there close by his face for a long while after their lips parted. He sighed very quietly, entirely happy and entirely at ease. It was peaceful in a way she’d dearly missed.

Feeling utterly suffused with warmth, Rayla nestled in beside him, fingers hooking lightly in the soft red wool of his robe. His arm came around her, and both of them sighed, and both of them settled, and it was quiet.

Neither of them felt the inclination to move or speak for quite a while. The sky was dark and full of stars by the time she shifted, and the city’s golden circuitry shining boldly through the shadow. The Moon, ascendant in the sky, was very nearly full.

“Might not be so bad after all, staying here a while.” She said, finally, and pressed her lips to his neck. “Comfy, nice bathroom, nice views…and the food options look kind of incredible, honestly.”

He chuckled, soft and fond. “Bit of a weird honeymoon.” He murmured into her hair. “But I’ll take it.”

She huffed. “Honeymoon.” She repeated, shaking her head.

Well. She supposed if they’d had to go through that whole forced marriage ordeal, they did at least deserve to get a nice holiday out of it. Even if most of that holiday was going to be spent working, the not-working parts of the day looked to be a lot fancier and more luxurious than they were back home.

“Yeah, I guess so.” Was her conclusion, in the end. “Did you decide what you’ll be eating?”

“Pretty much.” He kissed her brow. “You ready to order? It’s still kind of early.”

“Eh. It’ll do.” She shrugged, and listed off her selections. He kissed her again, then gently untangled himself from her limbs to go off and summon a servant.

The room had gone darker while the sun set, and the soft yellow glow of the fireless light fixtures along the walls had grown more prominent. Now a little curious, Rayla took the opportunity to investigate one, and on closer inspection found it to be some sort of…weird bioluminescent plant. Or maybe animal? It had long rigid tube-like structures that had plainly been cultivated into ornamental shapes, that looked almost like some sort of stone, though it had obviously been painted or dyed the usual deep red. It exuded a number of softly glowing yellow-orange tendrils from the openings at the end of the tubes, short and blunt but weirdly pretty.

She reached out cautiously to touch one, and at once the tendrils retracted inside the tube, the light dimming. Startled, she drew back to watch it, but the tendrils didn’t start to tentatively reappear again for another minute, during which she heard the light murmurs of Callum conversing with whatever servant he’d summoned.

When Moonshadow elves wanted light after dark, they just used enchantments, or glowstone, like normal people. Fancy Sunfire elves, however, apparently favoured plants. Or animals. She honestly wasn’t sure which this one was. Some sort of land-coral?

“I ordered the food.” Callum said, when he returned. “They said it’ll be about half an hour. And they’ll bring it all up at the same time so we don’t get disturbed twice.”

“Perfect.” She pronounced, with satisfaction, and then dragged him over to meet the light fixtures. Predictably, he spent a good ten fascinated minutes investigating the weird glowing polyps, and then a while longer sketching one out, and was half-way through that when the food arrived.

 -

(Snippet 5: after dinner, Callum and Rayla engage in some silliness, then cuddle. Domesticity.)

 “I’m so full I’m not going to move for a week.” Rayla announced, after staggering her way back through to their sofa, followed by an amused Callum. “It’s going to take at least that long to digest all of that.”

“That might make it tricky to get supplies.” He said, pretend-thoughtful. “But I’m sure we can work something out.”

She snorted, patted him on the shoulder, and then promptly pulled him into her side when he started looking at her in the imminent-cuddles sort of way. He hummed contentedly, turning his face into her shoulder, breath warming the wool over her collarbone.

“This bathrobe is so comfy.” He said happily, words muffled by wool. “It’s so nice.”

Having had very similar sentiments about his bathrobe earlier, she quite agreed. “Shame they didn’t include wool pyjamas, really.”

He didn’t offer any response for that, just snuggled, putting an arm around her waist. It was almost a little uncomfortable, really, what with how full she was, but she didn’t protest. She just held him close, smoothed her free hand over his hair, and looked out over the city. In the dark, watching the vaporous light rise felt very much like watching fire. It was very entrancing.

Some time later, Callum started to show signs of beginning to fall asleep on her. She looked down at him, snorted, and then nudged him until he stirred. “If you fall asleep now you’ll be up too late.” She informed him as he made plaintive noises at her. “I’m not having you exhausted and useless for your magic channelling nonsense tomorrow.”

“But you’re too comfy.” He complained, and she smirked.

“That sounds like an invitation to be less comfy.”

He opened an eye to peer at her suspiciously. “What do you mean, ‘that sounds’ – hrk!” His words cut off as, unceremoniously, she swept him up with an arm under his back and another under his knees, on her feet with a quick shift of her weight and his. She grinned down at him, finding him instantly and distinctly awake. “….Honestly this is still pretty comfy.” He said, weakly, when he’d spent enough time staring wide-eyed at her to recover his words.

Rayla pretended at thoughtfulness. “That sounds like a challenge.” She said, and he looked alarmed.

“It wasn’t! It wasn’t!” He protested, to no avail; she stepped around the sofa, judged her angle, and tossed Callum at the bed.

He wasn’t particularly aerodynamic, but her aim had been good enough anyway; he sailed neatly between the posts at the corners and impacted decadent Sunfire quilting with a muffled oof. She was laughing at him outright when he turned, staring at her with a sort of red-faced stupefaction that told her exactly what he thought of the whole experience. “Your face right now,” she managed, doubling over to snicker in his direction. Hilarious.

“You know, there’s a saying,” he began, a little dazed. “About trusting someone as far as you could throw them.” He pushed himself up on his elbows. “You could probably trust someone a lot, is what I’m getting at.”

“…I actually do sort of know how far I could throw you, now that I think about it.” Rayla said, thinking back. “It comes up in assassin training sometimes. Throwing teammates at walls and the like, to give them a leg up. I lobbed someone about your size around six, seven metres once.” She paused, and added “Lengthways, I mean. Throwing someone upwards is a lot harder.”

This did not make him any less wide-eyed. “That’s like, over twenty feet,” he marvelled, looking at her with plain admiration. “You’re amazing.”

She huffed, reflexively bashful at the praise, and shook her head. “Amazing at throwing people, at least.” She said dryly, and went over to stare down at him from the foot of the bed. “How’s the bed?”

“…Very nice, actually.” He said, after a pause for consideration. “You’re pretty bad at making things less comfy.”

“You’re definitely awake now though.” She pointed out smugly. “So my work here is done.”

He snorted, sitting up fully to beckon to her. Obligingly, she bent forwards to meet him with a brief kiss. “Hard not to wake up when someone throws you half-way across the room.”

She rolled her eyes. “It was not that far.” She said, and after a moment made the executive decision to fall forwards onto the bed, face impacting the plush duvet and sinking in. Her feet hung from the edge, and Callum giggled.

“Hehehe toes.” He said, and reached out to poke one. He found her four-toed feet amusingly charming every time he was reminded of them, which would have been funnier, except her feet were pretty ticklish and she twitched every time he prodded like this.

“I will kick you.” She warned, and he subsided with another snicker. Instead of messing with her any further, he shuffled over and started playing with her hair. “Mm. Better.” With a sigh, she closed her eyes and tipped her head forwards, face smooshing deeper into the bed. His fingers carded through her hair, nails trailing lightly at her scalp.

“You didn’t brush it.” He noted, carefully working out a couple of tangles, and she shrugged.

“Couldn’t be bothered. ‘Sides, it only tangles again when we cuddle, anyway.”

He hummed, and went through it again more purposefully, parting it carefully around her horns as he looked for and eliminated a few knots. He brushed around her hornbeds and she shivered. Apparently noticing the reaction, he did it again, more deliberately, chuckling at the way she murmured and pushed her head into his hand. “You look like a shadowpaw when you do that.” He said, affectionately, scritching gently around her horns. “Headbutting people’s hands when they pet you.”

“Anyone else and I’d be cutting off their hands, trust me.” She mumbled at him, already a little indistinct and fuzzy around the edges of her thoughts. Hornbed-scritches did that. “…Suppose the shadowpaw’d do that too. Except they’d bite the hand off instead, if they didn’t like you.”

“What I’m hearing is that if you were an animal you’d probably be a shadowpaw.” He sounded very fond.

“Mm. Guess so.” What would he be? Something doggish, probably. Friendly and playful and loyal, and then all teeth and fierceness when threatened. That sounded about right…

She drifted, a little. It was hard not to, when collapsed onto a comfy surface with one’s hornbeds being rubbed. He stopped after a while though, evidently noticing her drowsiness, and stroked a hand over her head between the horns as he chuckled. “Now who’s falling asleep?” He teased, and she made a half-hearted rude noise at him.

“’s your fault.” She muttered at him, indistinct around the duvet in her face.

“Uhuh.” He sounded amused, and stroked the back of her head again.

 -

(Snippet 6: very detailed depiction of horn care, which in-setting is considered intimate)

 She was suddenly very glad he’d interrogated her so persistently on the procedure earlier, because she wasn’t at all certain she’d have been able to tell him anything more sophisticated than ‘um’ when he was literally about to do her horns for her.

“You’re so cute.” He told her affectionately, obviously very aware of her current emotional state, and then finally set soapy hands onto her horns.

“Oh my god.” She muttered, cheeks flaming, feeling the weight of his hands, the subtle pull at the rest of her skull. She had never been quite so aware of her horns as when he started soaping them up and washing them, and it didn’t take long at all for the warmth of his skin to soak far enough through the keratin so that she could feel it in the living horn. A little while later, he applied the coarse-bristled-brush-side of the horn-scrub to her left horn, and she made a tiny embarrassed sound at the ceiling. “You should scrub them harder than that.” She managed after a moment, since he really was being too gentle about it. “Horns are tough, you know.”

He hummed with interest, and obliged, scrubbing hard enough that it pulled at her head a little. The towel-pillow had been a very good idea of his, really. “How much horn care do you normally do?” He asked, curious, getting the washcloth to rinse her horn before scrubbing again. “I’ve seen you file them, but…”

“…Usually just this. A good scrub to make sure they’re clean, and then filing down the rough bits.” Rayla offered a mortified noise. “But it’s been weeks and I’ve not even done that. They’re probably so dirty…”

“Shush, they’re fine.” He huffed at her, and kept on at her left horn until he was satisfied with it, moving over to the other one. Rayla regarded the ceiling with a persistently red face the whole while, cheeks feeling nearly as warm as the half of her body that was still in bathwater. “I wonder if your face is going to be this red the whole time.” He remarked, when he’d apparently finished with the washing.

“Probably.” She muttered, self-consciously, and felt her gut squirm when she felt the first experimental scrape of the fine filing parts on her horn.

Callum laughed softly, and started setting to work with the file. “If you say so.”

For all that he’d never done this before, the muted sensory feedback Rayla gleaned from her inner-horns and her ears suggested that he seemed to be doing fine with it. He readjusted the file enough that she could be relatively sure he was respecting the curve of the ridges, and worked slowly along the shape of each one, from the hornbed to the pointed tip, over and over again.

As she’d told him, it was a long process. It took a long time. Long enough that, contrary to her words, her embarrassment did start to burn out a bit, the red of her cheeks easing until she only felt a little flushed, a little flustered.

“I see why you thought the cloak would be a good idea.” Callum said ruefully, a while in. She could only imagine how much horn-dust and flaky bits of keratin must be littering it. “This does get kind of messy.”

“Told you.”

“For now this is just making your horns go sort of…pale, and scratched-looking.” He commented, working the file around one of the ridges on the underside. “I guess it goes dark again once you start buffing it?”

She made a small despairing noise, but agreed “Yeah, basically. Honestly all you really need to do is wipe it over with a wet cloth and it’ll stop looking like that. But…”

“But I’m not stopping there.” He said, with evident satisfaction, and a little more heat rose in her cheeks.

He was slow and meticulous about the filing, but got through it a lot more quickly than she could have if she’d done it herself. It was hard to work on your own horns – the angle was bad, you couldn’t see what you were doing, and adjusting to get the undersides was a huge pain in the arms. By contrast, doing it for someone else was just…a lot easier.

Finally, he set the scrub down and went for the washcloth again, soaping up and rubbing her horns clear of dust, poring over them for any spots he’d missed. When he was finally satisfied, he said “and now I buff them?”

“Mmhm.” She confirmed, bringing her hands up to hide her face for a moment. So, at her confirmation, he started on that part next. He evidently hadn’t expected how vigorous the buffing and polishing stages of horns were, because she kept telling him to press the buffer harder, and he kept making worried noises about it, and she had to keep assuring him that no that’s how it’s supposed to be, and eventually she start started laughing helplessly at him.

“I feel like I’m going to hurt your neck,” he complained at her, when the strength of the requisite motions pulled at her head. “Or like, hurt your hornbeds, or something.”

“I’ll be fine, Callum.” She assured him, still laughing, mirth and embarrassment squirming in her chest. “This is just how it goes, you know.”

“At least I brought you a pillow.” He sighed, and obligingly kept on. A fair while later, when he was done with the buffing and had washed her horns again, he leaned back a bit to admire his work. “That really is looking a lot smoother and shinier.”

“And you’ve not even done the polishing yet.” Rayla felt very weird then, laying back, eyes fixed on the ceiling. She’d been through embarrassment, and then amusement, and now…now, there was something else. She felt almost calm. Almost settled, like she’d finally started to grow used to this. Like the novelty of his hands on her horns had worn through.

Now, she felt kind of comfortable. At ease, in a way. Her mind was drifting in the way it did when Ethari or Runaan had helped her with her horns before, like this was just a normal thing. A normal thing that took ages, and that one had to daydream through to pass the time.

“I’m actually really looking forward to seeing what they look like when I’m done.” He was saying, as he put the buffing things down and went to get the bottle of polish and the polishing tool. “I’ve never seen your horns all done up before.”

“Maybe now you’ll finally understand what I mean when I say my horns have gone gross.” She pondered, and he laughed. “Finally you’ll know what well-kept horns are supposed to look like.”

“I have seen other Moonshadow elves’ horns, you know.” He informed her, obviously amused, and she heard the cap of the polish opening. A moment later, she smelled it, because there was really no mistaking that smell. “Yours still look nice no matter how long it’s been since you scrubbed them.”

Rayla made a disagreeable noise at him, and he snickered back, and then finally set about the polishing.

She’d told him, earlier, that horn-polish was pretty potent stuff, and that’s why you applied it to a sort of spongy cloth attached to a handle, rather than scrubbing with it by hand. At full strength, it actually melted the outer surface of the horn – just a little, just enough to meld it all down into a smooth, gleaming, perfect surface. Diluted polish was fine if you did it regularly, but with how long it had been for her…she’d told him to keep it undiluted. And it stank.

Her nose wrinkled, even with all the pleasant soap smells competing, and held her neck lax as Callum worked on her horns vigorously enough to pull her head back with every other movement. That was just how it went, so she wasn’t bothered. The towel was enough padding that it didn’t hurt, so she just laid there and let him work.

“Think I might actually nearly be done.” He pronounced at last, sounding genuinely a little out of breath. She’d told him it was hard work, and evidently he’d found that out for himself. He sounded very pleased, though. Like he’d done a good job and knew it, and was plenty proud about it. “Just got to wash all this polish muck off, right? Soap your horns up again.”

“That is the last stage.” She agreed, trying to glance up at him, but all she could really see was the top of his head. “Aside from oiling, I suppose.”

 -

 (Snippet 7: aftermath of horn care, domesticity)

 It was then, by the sink, that Rayla finally removed the towel from her head, and Callum made a loud noise of pure joy at her. She stared at him, alarmed, and then noticed where he was actually looking. Oh.

“Shiny!” He exclaimed, gleeful, and reached out to stroke her horns. “Oh my god.”

“Callum!” She complained, but she was already laughing, because honestly she should have predicted this reaction. He practically groped at her horns, bright-faced and beaming, and she flushed all the while she stood still and let him. “Are you going to let me see them any time soon?” She asked him, dry. “Or are you just going to stand there groping them?” He subsided at that with a very high-pitched giggle.

“Hehehe,” he offered, and then “yes, go look! You need to tell me how well I did.” He took her by the shoulders and turned her to the mirror, his face lingering by her shoulder in her reflection with the enormous grin still very much in residence there. He was such a dork, honestly.

Finally, Rayla tipped her head forwards and inspected her horns. They were…shiny. Very shiny. Every ridge had been filed and buffed and polished to a gleam, and when she turned her head, the light glimmered off of them like they’d been waxed. Her eyebrows went up, and she lifted her own hand to feel along one. It was smooth. Entirely dry, but as she ran her finger along one ridge, it felt so smooth. Their dark colour was actually glossy. “…Wow.” She said, a little admiringly, and tilted her head to watch the light move. “That is shiny.”

He looked absolutely delighted by that response, as if he’d needed her go-ahead to be certain that, yes, that was definitely impressively shiny. She smiled, helpless to stop it, and turned her head to kiss him on the cheek; her reflection mirrored her.

“You did a great job, Callum.” She told him fondly, her cheeks pink at having seen exactly how great a job he’d done. Stars, but the second anyone saw her they’d know exactly who was responsible for those horns. “My horns haven’t been this shiny in years.”

Callum looked at her like she’d hung the Moon, like this praise was enough to render him utterly overjoyed. He tugged her around enough to kiss her, deep and excited and full of energy, so much so that she made a muffled noise of surprise into his lips. It caught her off-guard, and she was feeling a little breathless and a little dazed when he drew away a few moments later. “You have to let me do this again.” He told her, beaming. “I’m going to keep your horns this shiny, just you wait.”

Her cheeks flamed, and she ducked her head, suddenly flustered. “You can’t just say things like that.” She complained at him, and of course he looked utterly unrepentant. He leaned in and kissed her, then moved and kissed her on one cheek, and then on the other cheek, and his hands were already up and stroking along the wide bases of her horns again.

“Smooth,” he commented, gleefully, fingers warm around her horns. His face was very, very close to hers. “They’re so nice.”

The heat in her face decidedly didn’t abate. “Oh my god, Callum.” She mumbled, shaking her head, and he just kissed her again. Feeling increasingly dazed, she said into his lips “you know, it’s a lot faster if you’re doing it regularly. You can skip the filing and just buff and polish instead.”

He considered this excellent news, if the way he kissed her was any indication.

Finally, she summoned the force of will to reach up and peel his hands from her horns, stepping away. It was not easy, because – because when he looked like that, so elated and alive and full of delight, when he kissed her so enthusiastically, it was hard to think of pretty much anything. She looked across at him, incredibly flustered, and couldn’t see anything except how beautiful he was. “You, calm down.” She ordered him, gruffly, and led him by the shoulder to the basin. “We came in here to brush our teeth, you numpty. Not fondle Rayla’s horns.”

“But Rayla’s horns are really really pretty.” Callum pointed out cheerfully, and she made an involuntary noise half-way between embarrassment and pleasure.

“Be that as it may, Rayla and her horns want you to brush your teeth now so we can go to bed.” She said, and she shuffled over to the basin to make good on her words.

 -

 (Snippet 8: Callum and Rayla go to bed finally. Cuddling, fluff.)

 It proved as magnificently soft and comfy as she might have expected, when she peeled back the covers and climbed in. Callum meanwhile was perusing the canopy with consideration.

“Curtains or no curtains?” He asked her, and she considered it.

“Curtains.” She decided, and watched with satisfaction as he reached out and unhooked the bed’s attendant drapery. She reached to the one closest to her, and he got the rest; it all fell into place, a rich dark red that blocked out the light from the room around them and cast their bed into soothing shadow. Something settled in her then, that hadn’t quite been at ease in the unfamiliar surroundings, or the openness of the room. She sighed, and burrowed down under the duvet, laying her head back on the pillows.

He joined her, lifting the covers and slipping in, closing his eyes for a second in obvious profound enjoyment. “This is so much better than hard cold floor.” He murmured happily, and she smiled, tugging him to her with a hand at his shoulder. He went gladly, and within moments they were pressed close, legs tangling, the warmth of his skin comforting against her own.

“Been a long few weeks.” She sighed, resting her forehead against his, and he lifted a hand to stroke her cheek.

“Kind of an understatement.” He murmured back. “I’m glad we’ve got a chance to rest now.” A pause. “Sort of, anyway. Aside from the work.”

She understood his meaning, though. There was something strangely safe about the idea of the time they’d spend here, whether it would be a week or longer than that. This wasn’t home, where there’d be people to explain things to, or where they’d have to adapt their old life to fit around what had happened. This was a new place – unfamiliar, but easier to cope with for that unfamiliarity, in its own way.

Here, she thought, they’d be able to find their footing a little. Settle a little more into their new normal, before the vagaries of travel and normal life needed intrude again.

“Me too.” She agreed, at last, and reached a hand across to press lightly around the back of his neck. He made a soft, pleased sound, then shuffled to give her better access, face smooshed into the pillow. She kissed him on the cheek, and he peered at her with one green eye, a smile fluttering on his lips.

“…Thanks for letting me do your horns.” He mumbled back, eventually. “I liked it.”

Her heart fluttered. “I’ll repay you sometime.” She promised, and moved her hand to smooth down along his upper back, enjoying the warmth of his skin. “Tomorrow, maybe. Give you a nice backrub or something.”

“Sounds great.” He shifted closer, tucking his face against her shoulder with a sigh. She kissed him at the top of his forehead, stroking him gently from the nape of his neck to his shoulders and back. He made quiet contented noises at her, drowsier and drowsier, and steadily began to drift off.

She lingered there, holding him, trailing fingertips over his neck as he settled into sleep. It really had been a long day for him, for all that they’d spent the latter half of it indoors and resting. Now, finally, he’d be able to sleep properly, in a bed comfortable enough to ease the ache of his overworn muscles. Now, finally, without the city’s doom hanging over them, they could rest a little.

Rayla smiled into his hair, nestled against him, and closed her eyes. She wasn’t aware of falling asleep, but it took her anyway; almost between one moment and the next, she was gone.

[witch-and-a-half]

Hey! I just discovered your page and I was wondering if you could write a Cedric x female hufflepuff reader fanfic where they have matching patronuses :) I think they would discover this in the room of requirement when Harry teaches them the charm and Harry asks Cedric what he thought about when he produced the patronus :) again, love your fics and thank you so much !!!

ok this has sat in my inbox for so long and i’m so so sorry <3 i was hoping to write a full fic for this but every time i did, i’d hit a wall or feel like i was drawing the story out too much :( here is a blurb for now, and if i ever work out that full fic i’ll tag you in it <3 again, i’m so sorry and i hope you still like it :) i also had to bend some rules so: Cedric is a year younger so he can be in Dumbledore’s Army and i decided to make their patronuses the male/female versions of an animal (like James and Lily) instead of identical like Snape and Lily’s. also i had a hard time finding a good animal with different male/female appearances so i kinda just picked one, but idk if it rlly fits cedric at all :/ also this is cho chang erasure. sorry if ur a fan but i have personal beef w cho. also i can’t remember when harry found out his parents had matching patronuses so hopefully it was before OotP…

- - -

“How did you do that?” You whispered to Cedric, who’d managed to produce some blue sparks from the end of his wand. Harry had explained the Patronus spell about 30 minutes ago, and all you’d managed to produce was a headache from trying to clearly recall her happy memory.

Cedric gave you a proud smile that shifted to reassuring when he saw your frustration, “You have to really focus on why the memory makes you happy.”

You barely noticed the pink tinge to his cheeks as you turned to try the spell again.

By the time you had gotten a few blue wisps from your wand, Cedric had conjured a little bird. It had trailing tail feathers and a little tuft atop its head. You watched in awe as it flitted above your head before dissolving into the air.

You couldn’t help the wide smile on your face, and wanted to say something congratulatory, but Harry spoke from behind you first.

“That was brilliant, Cedric.” Harry came to stand between the two of you, “How’s yours coming [y/n]?”

“Um, it’s almost there? I just think my memory is a bit weak…” You said, suddenly nervous.

Harry seemed sympathetic, “That’s alright. It’s harder than it seems. Maybe Cedric could tell you his memory? It could help you think of a better one.”

Cedric met your eyes, then looked away briefly. His face was unreadable as he watched Harry move to check on the next group of students. When he turned his attention back to you, you gave him your most hopeful look, “Would you?”

His face softened into a small grin as he spoke, “Okay but you promise you won’t tease me?”

You scoffed, “When have I ever teased you?” Cedric rolled his eyes. You’d been teasing eachother ever since you were partnered together in Herbology in your second-year.

“Okay… do you remember last spring when there was that meteor shower?” Cedric started, and you felt your heart immediately soften. “You dragged me up to the Astronomy Tower after curfew to watch.”

You smiled at the memory, adding, “Yeah. I remember you complaining about how tired you were from Quidditch practice. I almost left to go watch without you, but you wouldn’t let me go alone.”

Cedric shifted on his feet and you saw the definitive blush on the tips of his ears, “But once the meteor shower started… I was so glad I went. It was magnificent.”

Your stomach fluttered and you turned slightly away, trying to evade the feeling Cedric’s gaze was giving you. The realization that you were a part of Cedric’s happiest memory made you suddenly shy.

“I think I’ll try that memory…” You glanced at Cedric quickly and hoped he didn’t catch the shakiness in your voice.

Closing your eyes firmly, you remembered the warmth of Cedric beside you in the Astronomy Tower that night and the way the lights danced across the dark night sky. You whispered the incantation to yourself, and opened your eyes in time to see a bird appear from your wand. As soon as you realized how similar it was to Cedric’s, you let the bird disappear.

“No, wait…” Cedric’s voice was a low whisper, “Do it again.”

You didn’t dare look at him, but nodded and conjured the bird again. It perched in a nook on the wall, and, after a moment, Cedric’s bird joined it. You looked closer at the way your bird looked like the mirror image of Cedric’s, but without the long tail feathers and head tuft. When you turned to finally look at Cedric, the soft look in his eyes made everything else around you fade.

Neither of you noticed the murmurs around the room and Harry’s timid approach. “Um…” Harry cut in, “Do you know what it means for Patronuses to match like that?” Cedric nodded slowly, but you shook your head and turned to Harry with your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Well… my mum’s was a doe and my dad’s was a stag and…”

But the way your expression shifted made Harry’s words trail off. You turned to Cedric, and you couldn’t tell if he was surpressing a smile or tears.

That’s when Hermione swooped in—just as the realization washed over you—and suggested you and Cedric leave early to have a more private chat.

“I didn’t know…” You whispered, after a moment of walking silently down the corridor beside Cedric.

“I think I did.” He murmured, “I’ve felt it since that night in the Astronomy Tower.”

You kept walking in silence, but, when your hand brushed Cedric’s, he caught it. He gave your hand a squeeze before leading you up a flight of stairs.

It might have been a coincidence or it might have been fate or it might have been subconscious, but the two of you found yourselves back in the Astronomy Tower. This time, you could see the sun setting behind the forested horizon.

Standing together at the arched lookout, Cedric pulled you closer to him and you let your head rest on his shoulder.

“Are you…?” Cedric said slowly. He didn’t need to finish the thought; you could tell from his nervous tone what he was asking.

“Absolutely not,” You reassured him, “I’m glad it’s you. I feel silly I didn’t realize it earlier.”

You felt Cedric’s body relax against you at your words. After a moment, you ventured your own question, “What about you?”

After pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head, Cedric whispered, “I’ve got a new happiest memory.”

- - -

truthfully i can’t decide if i like this but i didn’t want to keep you waiting and hopefully you still enjoy it <3 i promise i’ll keep working on the full fic based on this idea and hopefully i can flesh it out a bit more than this one

[patriciasage]

Dawn Patrol

Author: Patricia_Sage

Fandom: The Adventure Zone - Balance

Summary:

Magnus blushes and he looks at Taako with stars in his eyes. He looks at Taako the way Barry probably looks at Lup. And Barry realizes how fucking stupid he’s been.

[a Stolen Century story - Barry thinks Magnus is flirting with Lup. He's wrong.]

posted in full under the break but you can find me on A03!!

Barry Bluejeans has a crush on Lup the moment he sees her on his first day with the I.P.R.E., but he falls completely and permanently in love with her around Cycle 10.

He speaks the mongoose language with her and Taako like they’re a secret club, and her soft, mischievous smile makes his heart flutter. Barry and Lup combine their expertise of science and arcana, respectively, staying up late into the night drawing diagrams on the Starblaster’s wall. She tells him about her childhood, about how she views the world. She’s vulgar, bold, impulsive, but also incredibly soft and sweet. She remembers what he likes and doesn't like to eat. They play fetch together in Puppy Town and that’s the first time Barry imagines her as his wife. He tells his brain to slow the fuck down; they’ve only known each other for a decade.

When Taako dies for his first time in Cycle 12, Lup prefers to spend nights with Barry in his lab, curled up in his desk chair. Barry gladly provides his company and cozy blankets to her in solace, and she barely leaves his side that year. It’s nice to spend so much time with her, but it also hurts him to see her so sad and trying so hard to hide it. When Taako materializes next to her on the deck as they speed away from another consumed world, she hugs her twin for at least two full minutes, and Barry resolves to do his best to protect her…and protect her heart.

Barry thinks he might have a chance. After all, they are a crew of seven, and one of them is her brother. He figures that Lup might want him, even if it’s just for a night (and although he wants more with her, so much more, he would take anything she offers). But it seems he’s not the only one carrying a flame for Lup.

Magnus Burnsides is a huge, handsome, kind young man who has never half-assed anything in his life. So, when he begins to flirt with Lup it’s pretty obvious. He’s constantly showing off, doing ridiculous and dangerous things to impress her. He attempts to learn more about elf culture and magic, talking animatedly to Lup and Taako while they cook supper. He’s courteous, charming, and brave in ways that Barry could never mold himself.

Magnus also notices how Taako’s death affected his sister, and he seems to make the same resolution as Barry. From that day forward, Magnus always has Taako’s back, even going so far as to put himself in danger to protect the wizard. In Cycle 16, Taako is retrieving the Light of Creation and sets off a trap. Before Barry can even react, Magnus leaps forward and pushes the elf out of the way. Magnus is impaled by six spears. When the fighter appears on the Starblaster with his signature black eye months later, Taako punches him hard in the arm. “Don’t do that again, you big idiot!” There's a stone in Barry's stomach as Lup kisses Magnus on the cheek and quietly thanks him.

Compared to Magnus, Barry feels small and boring and incapable.

It’s not even possible to hate Magnus, though, because he’s so damn hospitable. Instead, Barry resigns himself to the fact that Lup will likely choose the fighter over him. He enjoys her company, tries to keep everyone out of trouble, and finds contentment in this seemingly endless time with his new family.

The Beach World on Cycle 21 is a welcome reprieve. They find the light very early and everyone just relaxes for once. Even Merle enjoys himself as he recovers in the med bay; the others visit him often and begrudgingly help him work on his book of poetry. Davenport practices self-care, Lucretia gets lost in her art, and Taako learns how to surf. But things aren’t too leisurely because Magnus decides he’s going to “train” them to be ready for surprise attacks.

Barry is sitting on the beach next to Lup one hot morning. She’s lying on her back on their beach blanket with a large, floppy hat covering her eyes. She’s resting her arms under her head, telling Barry about a festival her aunt took her to when she was a kid. Barry is trying very hard not to be completely distracted by the sight of her armpit hair, her stylish bathing suit, and her beautiful, brown skin shining in the sun. Barry, in contrast, is sitting under a huge umbrella, wearing a white T-shirt, jean shorts, and a thick layer of sunscreen.

Suddenly, a huge shadow covers the sun and a loud voice shouts, “Magnus!”

Barry yelps and drops his glass of lemonade on the blanket. Magnus sinks to his knees in the sand so he’s eye-to-eye with the scientist. “You gotta be ready, Bluejeans. Anywhere, anytime.” He smiles over Barry’s shoulder. “I didn’t get you at all, did I?”

Lup has lifted up her hat a little to look at them, but her relaxed position is unchanged, unbothered. She smirks, “You’re going to have to do better than that, Burnsides.”

Magnus winks. “Challenge accepted.” Barry feels like a jellyfish blob on the sand between them.

And then Magnus takes off his shirt.

It takes all of Barry’s self-control not to throw himself into the ocean and let himself drown. Magnus has these ridiculous broad shoulders, an even patch of hair across his chest, and his stomach protrudes over his waistband only slightly in that sexy way. His skin is browned and freckled from long days in the sun and his ridiculous biceps flex as he throws his shirt on the blanket next to them. Barry, in contrast, is a pale potato of a man.

He’s ready to get up and leave them to their flirting when Magnus speaks up. “Well, see ya later!”

Magnus hands Barry his now empty lemonade glass and then stands up, brushing sand off of his hairy legs. He sprints across the beach until he’s met with the resistance of the water, making a huge splash. “Hey! Taako!”

Caught up in conversation with Lup, Barry had forgotten about the wizard. Taako is sitting on his surfboard, floating on large but gentle waves about thirty feet away from shore. He’s retying his long blonde hair up into a messy bun. “Hey, big guy. What’s crackin?”

“Just doing some training, you know?”

“Yeah, you got Barry good.”

“How’s surfing today?”

“It’s going off. I’ve only been in the soup a few times but that was early in the morning. Dawn patrol, am I right?”

Magnus laughs. “Yeah, for sure.” Taako has been almost creating his own language at this point.

Beside Barry, Lup snorts. “What the fuck does that even mean?” she says. “Magnus shouldn’t encourage him like that but, eh, you know how he is with Taako.”

“How he –” Barry looks back over at the fighter and it’s like a crisp breath of air enters his lungs. Magnus has sat himself on the sand with his feet in the water. He rests his chin on his hand and watches Taako prepare to carve another wave. Magnus cheers when the wizard stands on the board and laughs when Taako falls into the water. Taako’s long hair is out of its bounds again, cascading over his bare, dark shoulders. As he climbs onto his surfboard, he flips Magnus off. Magnus blushes.

Magnus blushes and he looks at Taako with stars in his eyes. He looks at Taako the way Barry probably looks at Lup. And Barry realizes how fucking stupid he’s been.

Magnus hasn’t been flirting with Lup. Barry has only seen him flirt when they’re both with Lup and Lup is with Taako. And Barry was so immersed in his own insecurity that he didn’t stop to actually observe what was going on around him. Some scientist he is.

At the end of the day, Barry watches Magnus offer to carry Taako’s surfboard back to the cabin. Taako, forever dramatic, convinces Magnus to carry him back as well. It doesn’t take much convincing. Barry looks at Magnus’s pleased and flustered expression with Taako latched onto his back, complaining, and Barry internally ridicules himself for being so dense.

A few days later, Barry asks Taako to teach him to swim. They work on it every morning for a few weeks. It’s brutal in the beginning – Barry flounders whenever he tries to go horizontal and Taako has a tendency to point and laugh rather than help. But they both get better at it and soon they have an amicable and productive routine. Barry goes from indiscriminately splashing to a solid doggy paddle to an almost front crawl. And Taako claps and coos at him like a proud mother.

On the last day of their morning swimming lessons, Barry thanks him and gets up the courage to have an honest discussion. “There have been times where I haven’t been able to hang out with everybody because y’all go swimming and there are times where there’s people I, like, you know, want to hang out with and I just haven’t been able to do it and that’s not a good look and it makes me look like a big nerd and I um… It’s just that— I just, like— I don’t know. It’s… Never mind, it’s stupid. Thanks for teaching me how to swim.”

“Who are you afraid of looking silly in front of?” Taako asks. They’re both standing waist-deep in the water and Barry tries to make his anxiety dissolve. Taako’s approval means the absolute world in this situation.

“I look up to Lup a lot…” he admits.

And Taako is graciously chill. He places his hand on the scientists’ shoulder comfortingly and speaks with rare seriousness. “Barry, you’re locked in and this wave’s crashing all around you, my man, and I— I don’t begrudge you anything. You know, we’ve lost a lot, uh, and there’s a lot more we might lose...but the one thing we do have is the thing that people in love rarely ever have enough of – and it’s time.” This is a side to Taako that he doesn’t show often, someone genuine and wise and openly affectionate.

The wizard’s words echo in his head often – “You got all the time in the world, my man.”

Barry is feeling relieved and grateful as he walks from the beach that day with his sunhat on. Lup will tease him about his sunburn but it will be worth it to be able to swim with her. As he reaches the part of the beach where sand transforms into foliage, something stops him in his trek – the sight of a hulking figure sitting on a rock. It’s Magnus. “Is this another training thing?” Barry asks cautiously as he approaches.

Magnus doesn’t look up. He seems dejected. “No, it’s not. I’m just thinking.”

“Um,” Barry fidgets with the string on his swim trunks. “You alright? What’s going on?”

“I dunno, you tell me, Barry!” Magnus says, gesticulating with his large hands. “What’s going on with these morning swimming sessions?”

Magnus looks disappointed and self-conscious; a combination Barry is very familiar with. He has to remind himself to close his mouth.

Magnus Burnsides is jealous of Barry Bluejeans.

Barry begins to laugh. This just makes Magnus’s cheeks turn red and his eyebrows furrow even more. “Fine, okay, you don’t need to –”

“No, no,” Barry interrupts, approaching the fighter. He places his hand on Magnus’s huge bicep. “Magnus, I don’t know how to - … Okay. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“I’m not worried. You’re a good guy. It’s fine. I just thought that maybe…” Magnus shakes his head, and his expression clears. “I asked him if he could teach me to surf and he said he was too busy teaching you to swim so I guess I was just disappointed because I really wanted to…learn how to surf.”

“Magnus. Taako doesn’t want to…swim with me. And I only asked Taako to teach me because I wanted to swim with Lup.” Magnus looks up at him with hopeful dark eyes. “I really want to swim with Lup. I think I want to swim with Lup for the rest of my life.” Barry chuckles. “For a long time, I thought you wanted to swim with Lup!”

Magnus lets out a startled laugh of his own. “No, I… I want to, uh, swim with Taako. But I’m not sure he wants to swim with me.”

“Well, he doesn’t want to swim with old Barry, that’s for sure.” Barry shrugs. “I can ask Lup, maybe? She’ll know.”

Magnus stands up from the rock. His shoulders are relaxed now. “No, it’s okay. I think he needs more time. I’ll ask him myself one day.”

The Beach World is a gift they didn’t know they needed. They grow closer as a family. Lucretia commemorates it through portraiture. Lup and Taako continue to be firecrackers, burning bright, loud, and dangerous. And Barry and Magnus continue to stare with stars in their eyes.

Merle, Lucretia, and Davenport make bets.

In Cycle 25, Merle wins.

[summersubin]

meeting soulmate!taehyun for the first time

a/n: happy valentine’s day!! it’s so close to being last minute but i wanted to post something mushy and soft to celebrate... enjoy! :) thanks for reading~ (this is pretty long it’s about 1.7k i lowkey got carried away)

you were at a fansign

honestly you don’t know how you made it there, it was pure luck that you could actually get into it

looking around the venue, you saw just how many people were there

it was a hectic environment, buzzing with energy

the other fans around you were so excited, a hum of noise filling the air of the room

you were… pretty nervous

there was something about being here today that sat in your stomach heavily

you tried not to think about how nervous you were feeling, and clasped your hands together to help stop their shaking

there was a particular someone you were especially nervous to meet

you weren’t sure what it was, but there was something about kang taehyun that drew you in

you laughed at yourself, thinking about the strange draw on your attention he seemed to have from how far away from you he was

and it was funny timing, because as soon as your mind began wandering from the topic the girl in front of you started shrieking

from her conversation with her friend, you heard the word “soulmate” repeat itself a few times, and she bounced up and down in excitement

hearing that made something funny stir up in your stomach

soulmate? there was no way

you almost wanted to laugh at her

meeting your soulmate was a huge deal, one of the biggest moments you have in your lifetime, if not the biggest

meeting them here would just be… 

impossible? you thought, the word not quite sounding right

anyway, it was a silly notion, not something worth thinking about

you smiled nevertheless at the prospect, and then began to feel the excitement once again of being able to be there in that moment

you were really going to meet txt???

the line was gradually moving forward, you along with it, and the nerves jumped around inside of your stomach with each step closer to the table where the members sat, signing albums and talking to the fans

as the line got shorter, a weird pressure began building in your chest

you brushed it off as nerves, trying to take deep breaths to calm yourself, but it only seemed to grow stronger

you were very close now, able to hear the voices of the members making conversation with the people in front of you

and then it was your turn

soobin was at your end of the table

he smiled at you, eyes warm with kindness

he was the sweetest boy ever

you smiled back, still trying to ignore this weird feeling in your chest 

he took your album, quickly flipping through the pages with his big hands

he glanced up as he wrote, asking for your name

and you tried your best to keep up the conversation, but your mind felt awfully distracted

you had a strong urge to look just past soobin

the action was second nature

and just as you glanced over, your eyes met none other than taehyun’s

he seemed distracted too, still talking to the fan with himself as he caught your glance

he had this weird expression on his face 

you tore your gaze away and back in front of you when soobin raised his hands, offering them for hi-fives

awkwardly, you smiled, laughed, and met his hands with yours 

they really were soft

and you felt bad for a moment, hoping he wasn’t disappointed with how distracted you were acting

you had spent a good amount of time in front of him, but most of it was a blur in your memory

he said goodbye, and it was time to move on

when you took a step past soobin, the aching feeling twitched inside of you with the impact of your foot to the ground

and when you glanced up, you saw a hint of a wince on taehyun’s face

he sat in front of you now, and he kept going between meeting your gaze head on and ducking his head to look at his fingers

his fingers, which were holding the marker in his hands so tightly that his knuckles were white

and neither of you said a word

you opened your mouth to say something, but found you had nothing to say

so you bit your lip instead, and slid your album across the table towards him

and he took it gingerly, hesitantly opening it

you thought you heard him take a deep breath in and out

it was weird, it wasn’t visible, but it was like you could feel a physical link reaching from you to him, perfectly straight

at first he looked annoyed, but as you watched him for a few more moments you realized his hands had adopted a slight tremor which was quite similar to yours

he looked really nervous

and when he was done writing, he finally raised his eyes

you locked eyes with him, and after a beat, you took your chances at smiling gently

he offered a small smile in return, breathing out a laugh

“uh, what’s your name?” he said nicely, and after that utterance, a content feeling rushed through your veins

you eased up a bit, and when you replied, you saw the way his shoulders dropped slightly, eyes widening fractionally

he slid the album back to you, and after hesitating for a moment, feeling the awkward silence, he raised his hands up leaning his elbows on the table

it shocked you a bit, and you quickly glanced back at soobin to see if they were touching hands already

it hadn’t been that long already, had it?

and sure enough, soobin was still looking down at the fan’s album, just beginning to sign it

so you raised your hands to taehyun’s, not sure of what else to do

the second your fingers touched, an electric pulse like lightning went down your arm

you flinched, quickly pulling your arm away like you’d been burnt, and you took notice to the way taehyun had jumped slightly in his seat, glancing between his hand and you with a bewildered expression on his face

you rubbed your hand from the shock, and watched as he slowly brought his hand back to where it had been

you didn’t exchange words, staring at each other as if you were the only people in the enormous room

cautiously, you brought your hands back to his 

when they touched it was a different feeling from the first, one that went straight to your heart and sank in

it was like feeling whole, like coming home

taehyun closed his eyes, and then he was intertwining his fingers with yours

you held his hands, grip tightening

the hum of noise dissolved into the background, almost ceasing to exist 

when he opened his eyes again, and you met them, you knew without a fraction of doubt that he was your other half

he was your soulmate, and the two of you were fated to be together

“it’s you…” he whispered almost inaudibly, holding your hand tighter

you let yourself smile, happiness threatening to split your face open

he followed suit, as if your emotions were linked perfectly

you could feel the curious glances coming from beside you, not only from other fans but from the other members as well

it must have been an unusual sight, the two of you looking at each other as if you had known each other for years

“taehyun,” you barely muttered, and you saw the way his eyes immediately flickered back to yours, sparkling

“say it again,” he said softly

you stared at him for a moment

“my name. will you say it again?” he asked, voice as sweet and gentle as flower petals

“taehyun,” you said, smiling gently

he smiled harder, dimple poking in his cheek

and his thumb began to gently caress your hand

“i’ve been waiting for you…” was all you could say, and it was true, you had waited for so long to meet your soulmate

you’d spent countless days daydreaming about who they would be, how you would meet them, what life could be like once it happened

you felt the beginnings of tears forming in your eyes, overwhelmed with emotion

“me too,” you heard him whisper, eyes swimming with a sadness that perfectly mirrored yours

 “see me after,” he said quickly, catching on that the event still had to continue and you couldn’t stay forever

soobin had started giving the two of you nervous glances, trying his best to keep the fan in front of him perfectly entertained

“but how-” you started, a panicked feeling beginning to blossom in you at the idea of having to leave him, not being able to touch him anymore, or even be near him

“i’ll tell the staff,” he murmured, and then his gaze dropped to your linked hands

he met your eyes one last time, pausing there for a moment, and slowly pulled his hands from yours

no doubt, the rest of the fansign for taehyun would be a distracted mess, it would be a true test of his patience

he watched you with sorrow in his eyes as you walked away from him, every step leaving a heavy weight in both of you

but you both knew you’d be able to get through it, because you would be reunited 

and that was enough to wait any amount of time for

you continued down the line of members, laughing a bit as you did so because you knew you would probably be seeing a lot more of them

you did your best to avoid meeting the glances that you knew taehyun was throwing you whenever he got the chance

you didn’t want to become caught in his eyes and freeze up again when you were trying to act normally

the rest of the members were incredibly sweet to you

yeonjun tried and failed to mask the smirk on his face and pretended as if he didn’t know exactly what had just happened

he had been sitting on the other side of taehyun and probably heard a lot of the conversation

“it’s really nice to meet you,” he said lowly to you in a sincere tone

and his smile was radiant and warm, eyes shining

when you finished down the line, one of the staff approached you and lead you to a place where you could wait until the event was over

you walked anxiously, feeling the connection to taehyun who was still back there, the way your body wanted to go

but you followed the staff nevertheless, and waited for the moment you could be with your soulmate once again

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

S.T. REWRITE - S2:E9; Chapter Nine, The Gate - [Pt. 1]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

The survivors turn up the heat on the monstrous force that's holding Will hostage, and Y/n's powers are put to the ultimate test in the process. Eleven makes plans to finish what she started.

A/n: heads up, another ask the characters is coming up at the end of this book so if you plan on asking questions relevant to the plot I do ask you hold off until the rest of this episode. If you have just simple or silly non-plot related stuff I guess I don't mind taking them here 😊 thx for reading!

Also, the El/Dustin/Lucas reunion [and friendship tbh] is criminally underappreciated and always makes me cry happy tears. Same with El and Joyce. Always broke me, always will. Duffers, give me more. Also, Max blushed in this scene, and yall can @ me I don't care, but it happened.

||3rd Person POV||

Their feet shakily carry them across the floor to each other. Their hearts both stop as they gaze one another, both in their own unique form of shock.

"Eleven." Mike's voice barely tumbles out in a strained whisper.

Her smile grows bright at the sound of her name on his tongue, a sound she had missed all these months.

"Mike!" She gasps tearfully, and they collapse into a tender hug.

For a moment they relish in one another's embrace, not caring they have to stumble for balance as they cling to one another. More sniffles and tearful gasps spill from their lips as the others look on in a mixture of sadness and excitement filled shock.

Apart from Max, who's brows furrow above her widened eyes as she leans in close to Lucas in a whisper.

"Is that...?"

Dustin and Lucas nod silently, still in as much disbelief as the collective few.

Finally, but all too soon for the pair, Mike and El break apart.

"I never gave up on you," Mike swears. "I called you every night. Every night for--"

"353 days." She finishes softly, drawing out another look of shock on the boy. "I heard."

Despite the small but taunting thought that had always lingered in the back of her mind that told her otherwise, he does not get mad. He merely tilts his head in confusion.

"Why didn't you tell me you were there?" He asks gently. "That you were okay?"

Before she can form a proper sentence, Hopper speaks up from where he had previously stood rooted to the ground.

"Because I wouldn't let her."

Mike swivels on his heels to find Hopper looking back at him, solemnly. Mike stumbles back agape as Hopper glides forward, and gestures in waining and worn down stress over the girl.

"The hell is this?" He grumbles softly, relief flooding his voice. "Where the hell you been?"

"Where have you been?" She spits back, in an equally sounding failed attempt at anger.

His gun hangs limply at his side as he takes El into his embrace, who gladly accepts by coiling her arms around his large frame in content.

"You've been hiding her," Mike gasp gravely. "You've been hiding her this whole time!"

Everyone flinches as the Wheeler boy launches an unexpected attack on the chief. He jumps forward, throwing his weight into his arms as he shoves the man.

"Hey!"

He turns, knowing the fight this boy is going to attempt and grabs at his shirt to steady him. Mike fights against his effort briefly, but he can't hide the spark of fear in his eyes as Hopper towers over him.

Hidden amongst the stunned group, Y/n shuffles on her feet nervously as she witnesses the strength of Mike's wrath. And yet, numbly, her feet carry her forward to accept the damning sentence she always knew would befall her. Her guilt had grown thrice its size in the brief moments of Mike and El's reunion and she can keep the secret no longer.

Weakly, she tugs Mike away from the chief in half-hearted protest.

"Mike,"

Her voice comes out in a wavering and cracking demand and she has to try again to be heard over his cries of protest.

"Mike!"

Finally, he, rips his attention -and arm - away from Hopper's hold, and whips his head to snap at her. Her hand remains wrapped around his sleeved arm as if hoping her gentle touch will soften the blow. But even she knows it not make a difference.

"What?"

Her eyes flicker from him to Hopper and El in a frightened manner.

"What?!" He demands. "You can't seriously be defending him?! He hid her from us! He knew!"

The words she ached to say died on her tongue, though she knew now she didn't have to tell him. Her e/c eyes went glassy, her bottom lip began to quiver and his eyes suddenly shifted.

"No," he whispers, eyes jumping from El's new attire to towards hers as he shakes his head. The pieces had fallen into place. "No, you wouldn't...?"

"I'm so sorry, I-"

He rips his arm away from her in disgust and cradles it against his chest. The small act creates another crack in her heart as he looks at her in fury and loathing. Will already looked at her like this, and now Mike, too.

"What the hell is wrong with you people?!" He demands, glare flying between Hopper and Y/n. "What is wrong with you?!"'

"Mike, I wanted to tell you--"

"BUT YOU DIDN'T!" His anger is now fully directed at Y/n. "YOU DIDN'T TELL ME!"

It's Hopper's turn to tug Mike away from Y/n, but again, Mike violently rips himself away.

"It wasn't safe!" Y/n pleads.

"Bullshit!" Mike shoved the girl in front of him away.

"Mike-!" El interjects.

In his anger, Mike doesn't seem register her pleas. All of his attention - and pain - directed soley on Y/n.

She stumbled back, not surprised at such a harsh response but she tries to stay calm for the sake of everyone around her. Her hands begin to darken as heat bubbles to the surface.

"I can't believe you, Y/n!" A fresh batch of tears welled in his eyes but he dismissed hers. Unable to care.

He shakes his head, not knowing why he even bothers to ask but it slips out in a dark whisper. "How long have you known?"

Y/n takes a long, shaky deep breath. Her voice quivers as she speaks.

"The day Dart escaped, and... and right before the Mind Flayer got Will on the field."

His face twists into a bitter scowl. "Five days? You've known for five days?!"

"And it's been killing me, Mike! But she said it would keep you safe!"

"Killing you?! It's been killing you?! You think I give a shit? YOU LIED-!"

He storms after her again, ready to shove her but his hands never reach her shoulders. Her body tenses as he charges and a small, involuntary burst of energy explodes around her, protecting her.

He falls back in a yelp of pain, Hopper is able to catch the boy before he reaches the ground and everyone watching - those especially who hadn't previously known about Y/n's abilities - flinched in shock. Several items around her within a two-foot radius shook and even tumbled off the shelves and tables. Y/n looks at everyone and then back at Mike in a worried glance.

"Mike, are you okay? I didn't mean--"

"Get off me!" He swats at her outstretched hand and she flinches.

Hopper's fuse runs out and his voice comes out in a thunderous bark.

"Hey, hey! Alright!" He discards the gun against the wall. "ENOUGH!"

The two bickering friends falter at the volume of the man's voice and stumble back when he reaches for them. A firm hand on either of their shoulders, he looks them in the eye with a scowl.

"Enough." he seethes, prying Mike off of Y/n and begins pushing him in the direction of Jonathan's room. "Let's talk. Alone."

Everyone watches in surprise as the two storm off down the hall, now stewing in the shock of all that has unfolded in the past few minutes alone. El shuffles on her feet, her eyes trailing two of the three people she cares of most as they disappear down the hall, unable to shake the stress of her situation and the harm it inflicts on everyone.

"Protecting her! Protecting her?" Mike fumes.

"Now, Mike--"

"You guys really expect me to forget the fact that you two blatantly lied to my face that she was alive?"

"Mike--"

"For a whole year?!"

"ENOUGH!"

Mike's eyes widen suddenly in shock, it dissolves quickly but his anger does not. Hopper sighs, bringing a hand to rub at his eyes before shrugging at the kid with a hardened expression.

"You are going to listen to me, and you're gonna listen to me good. I kept her from you,"

He says to Mike admittedly, then gestures in the direction of the living room.

"and so did Y/n. And that sucks. I get it kid, but you have no idea what kind of consequences you and your family and anyone - including your friend -," he points to the door again, still seething with anger. "face just knowing she's alive. It is an IMMEDIATE and PERMANENT target on your back."

"Oh, what so I should be THANKING you?"

"I'm not asking you to thank me!" Hopper screams back, voice, and fuse straining. "I'm asking you to try and understand!"

"I don't! I don't understand!"

"That's fine. That's fine! Just do not blame her, she's upset enough as it is."

"I don't blame her! I blame you! I blame you!"

"That's fine, kid." Hopper spits through a fake smile, and he throws his arms up in surrender "That's okay. In fact, blame me for all of it. El, your friend, even this damn Mind Flayer, or whatever the hell else you can think of. That's okay with me, but--"

"NO! Nothing about this is okay! Nothing about this is okay!" Mike launches another attack on Hopper who stumbles back.

He eases his arms out, trying to calm the kid down. But Mike does not relent. All of his heartbreak and misery since the moment she disappeared in the cloud of ashes, to every moment of radio silence with his walkie. It all erupted out of him and he charged at Hopper, swinging punches left and right into his gut until he was backed up at the door.

"You're a stupid, disgusting-"

"Okay. All right!"

"-lying piece of shit!"

"Stop it! Stop it-"

Hopper makes a grab at the boy's arms, trying to calm him down.

"LIAR! LIAR! LIAR!"

"It's okay. Stop it!"

As he had with the Will just minutes ago, Hopper wraps his arms around the boy in a hug. And though Mike continues to cry out, his efforts against Hopper begin to weaken before fading out altogether.

"Liar! Liar! Liar!"

Mike is now collapsed into Hopper's chest and allows his cries to drain him completely. His tears streak his pinkened cheeks and stain Hopper's coat. All frustration with Mike evaporates completely and all that's left beneath is the fatherly instincts he had never let go of. He holds him tighter against his chest and lays his right hand on Mike's head with his chin buried in his hair.

"You're okay, kid." He whispers. "You're okay."

Mike's whimpers disappear into Hopper's chest though they still manage to coat the silence. Hopper holds the boy tighter, his hands rested gently against his shoulders and he whispers once more.

"I'm sorry, kid."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

After their disappearance down the hall, El gladly found herself in the embrace of Lucas and Dustin. Like Mike and Y/n, they looked the same apart from the inevitable touch of time she noticed. They had approached her timidly, but each wore similar blinding grins. El has trouble battling a smile at them and to their surprise, she eagerly launched into a hug that they gladly accepted.

"We missed you," Lucas says.

"I missed you, too," she murmurs contently.

"We talked about you pretty much every day," Dustin says, and her small smile returns.

She pulls away to look at them, but her soft brown eyes widen when she notices Dustin's smile. Curiously, she reaches out to Dustin, poking her finger at his mouth as he pulls back confused.

"Teeth," she says.

"What?"

"You have teeth,"

Dustin and Lucas share a chuckle through their still matching grins. Dustin nods, smiling extra bright to show off his new set of teeth.

"Oh. You like these pearls?"

Dustin rolls his tongue in a purr, and El's eyes grow wide as saucers in concern. Lucas and Dustin chuckle in response. They had indeed missed their friend very much, especially her confusion and shock to most regular things.

"El?"

The boys parted for Max who approached her with a shy and eager smile.

"Hey, um," she blushed, extending her hand. "I'm Max. I've heard a lot about you."

El recognized now why the redhead was so familiar, and her gaze flickered to her outstretched hand. That small flame of jealously in the pit of her stomach licked at her heart again. Intentionally ignoring the gesture of the girl and the girl herself, she pushed past her, bumping her shoulder with Max. Max's blush darkened, this time in embarrassment and she looked at the floor in hurt.

El was more focused on the woman she had spotted across the room. The first adult to ever put El needs before anyone else, even if it meant finding her son would be next to impossible. The first person to ever treat and care for her as she was, not a weapon, but a child deserving of love and nurturing. The woman who now stood across the room with tears in her eyes, a quivering smile and arms open wide as if she was her own daughter.

She collapsed in Joyce's warm embrace and no sooner did they both burst into tears. El melted in her gentle and soothing touch, and an audible whimper escaped her when she felt Joyce's palms rub small and gentle circles in her back.

It was the cozy and safe motherly embrace she had longed for all her life.

"Hey," Joyce coos softly in her ear. "Hey, sweetheart."

Another small cry bubbles out of her mouth and for a moment she feels embarrassed for wetting Joyce's jacket, but Joyce doesn't seem to care. She pulls apart from El and strokes her cheek and hair lovingly. Instinctively, scanning the girls face for any signs of injury.

"Hey," she coos again, and El sniffles.

"Is he okay?" She whispers.

Joyce tilts her head, a crooked but sweetened smile forming at El's worry, and her thumb strokes her cheek one last time.

"It's not looking good, sweetie." El's face falls at the answer, and she fears she got here too late. Her eyes pick up again and begin scanning the room when she realizes her greetings aren't done.

Her eyes land on Y/n across the room who had fallen silent after her encounter with Mike. She was far in the corner, her hand picks at the ends of her sleeves and she looked up cautiously at El.

El turns and crosses the room to her best friend.

"Y/n..."

Y/n's eyes flutter around the room briefly, all too aware of the prying ears. Cautiously, her old name slips out. "El..."

For a moment they stew in silence, not knowing what to say and the others watch befuddled at their behavior. By now they know that Y/n had discovered El's survival, but that was all they knew. But seeing them together now, both dressed in similar bold outfits they were able to piece together the two had spent some time together in the past few days. Particularly, the rest of the party.

"You came back," Y/n muttered, surprised.

"I saw everyone in danger," El answered. "I had to come home."

Y/n's eyebrows twitched ever so at the word before frowning. Her eyes flicker behind El briefly at the others, to see if they were listening. To her relief, she saw Joyce send her an understanding smile before pulling the others away into the kitchen.

"I thought you were home. With your sister. Someone who understands you," Her words came out more bitter than she anticipated but she makes no effort to take it back.

"She does, Y/n. What it was like there... Something you won't ever understand."

A look of hurt flashed across Y/n's face and her eyes take her somewhere else. Anywhere that wasn't El. She didn't want her to see how upset she was.

"But that is good." She says gently, causing Y/n's eyes to flicker back at her before returning to the floor. "It was a bad place, and... it was not your fault."

Y/n now looks back at El, her brows still creased in a frown but at least she was showing she was listening.

"How I grew up. I don't blame you."

The Henderson girl's expression softened, but her frown still lingered. She seems to consider her words, and then her attention falls to the inside of her jacket. She begins digging inside and finally she pulls out the files. The words Missing Experiment scribbled on the front. El's stomach sinks, her lips creasing together in a nervous habit.

"Then why did you keep this from me? You know that I've been searching for answers, and you had them with you that whole time! Why?"

El shifts on her feet, and when she speaks she mentally scorns herself for her wavering voice.

"I was afraid."

Y/n shakes her head with a somber and disappointed look. "Afraid of what, Jane?"

Tears started to brim in El's eyes now, not only at her mistake and the guilt it brought but the sound of her name on Y/n's tongue. It didn't feel right. Jane didn't feel right. Not anymore.

She licks her lips nervously, before answering.

"That you would leave. That once you had them... you'd go back home and I... wouldn't be able to see you again."

"El-" Y/n stops, sighing at the floor as she shakes her head. Still not used to the name. She looks back to her friend. "Jane. I wouldn't do that. You're my friend, and I wanted to help you. I did help you!"

"The truck," El threw back with a quirked brow.

Surprisingly enough, Y/n felt a weak chuckle bubble up.

"There's a very good reason why I didn't want us to ride in a truck. But I told you, we could have found another way! A safer way,"

Why is Y/n so afraid of trucks? El wondered.

"All I'm trying to say, Jane, is that I wouldn't have turned around and left as soon as I got what I was looking for. Friend's don't do that. I wanted to find out about myself, sure, but I wanted to help you, too." Y/n explains in sad exasperation. "I wouldn't have just left you..."

"But... you did?" El asks confused.

"Because they said they wanted to get rid of me!"

El looked taken aback.

"That's what I was trying to tell you. They didn't want me there and they were going to get rid of me. Besides, I asked and you said you were going to stay... You understand why I couldn't, right?"

El nods looking to the floor. She takes a deep breath and looks back at Y/n, searching her eyes. She feels a tug at her heart.

"I'm sorry, Y/n."

The ends of Y/n's lips twitch into a soft smile. She inches forward, and for a moment El fears something bad will happen. Like Y/n will shake her head and leave. But she's delighted to find how wrong she was when Y/n pulls her into a hug.

"I'm sorry, too." She whispers.

Both girls begin to sniffle, drawing the attention of the others who had previously parted into their own conversations to give them some space. After a moment, they pull away.

"So," Y/n says, offering a hopeful grin. "friends?"

El felt as if all the weight she had held on her shoulders vanished, and something the girls both noticed now was a much stronger bond forming before their very eyes. This bond was only established and sealed forever by what El said next.

"Sisters."

They smiled brightly at one another, and El's quickly melted into a shy smirk.

"El." She says finally.

Y/n's expression fell into that of a confused frown.

"Huh?"

"El. Not Jane," she looks to the floor sadly before muttering. "Never was."

Y/n's lips molded into a sympathetic smile, and the pair met in another hug. El felt the warmth return, the warmth that had disappeared the morning Y/n had back in Chicago when Y/n mumbled contently into her ear.

"I'm really glad you're back, El."

They break apart, a soft look echnaged between one another with grins to match.

"Me too," El mutters.

Suddenly El's smile fell. It was replaced with a shocked look, and she turned to look between Y/n and where Joyce had dissapeared, the panic setting in.

"Will!" She says in a worried realization. "Can... I see him?"

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

El opens the door slowly to ease its creaking, and timidly she steps inside. Joyce and Y/n follow closely behind as El approaches Jonathan's bed that holds a sleeping Will. El kneels beside the sleeping boy, Joyce, and Y/n taking a seat on either side of the bed. El watches his chest steadily rise and fall, and she notes he is just as pale and weakened as he had been the last time she saw him in the void.

"H-He's not doing well," Joyce eases.

El hesitantly places a hand on his bedside, and she feels a small lump in her throat.

"I know," she mutters sadly. "I saw,"

Joyce and Y/n look to her in slight surprise.

"What else did you see?" Joyce asks.

El looks between her friend and Joyce, sadly. Her stomach begins to coil into several knots, and her hands began to clam up at the question. El recognizes the feeling all too well, it was the same feeling she'd get whenever she had to get into the bath. Or when Papa made her repeat words from men in different rooms, or when he asked her to hurt the poor cat. It was a feeling she had almost every second she was inside that lab, the room, or any time Papa was near. It was an awful sickly feeling, but as she looked at Will now, she knew.

It had to be done.

She knew what she had to do.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

El stood before the Byers kitchen table with Joyce and Y/n. Her eyes bore into the back of the notepad where the two words that sparked this dark feeling inside her were scribbled out in red.

CLOSE GATE

Y/n's eyes widen when she sees their translation for the first time. It dawned on her what Will had been telling them, and she recalls what El had tearfully admitted at the quarry just one year ago.

"The gate," she mumbles.

A look of realization hits Joyce, and she points to it eagerly. "You opened this gate before, right?"

El looks up and off to the distance, stuffing down her last bit of hesitation and she answers in a hoarse whisper.

"Yes,"

"Do you think you think if we got you back there, that you could close it?" Y/n looks worriedly back at El. The task was no doubt a large one for El to handle all alone, and though she knew it was likely their only hope, it made her fear for her.

What would happen to her? But then a simple thought crosses her mind, perhaps from the smaller corner of her mind that wanted to provide assurance and she asked herself.

It was just a gate right, surely it couldn't be that big?

Right?

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

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[the-hunting-hawk]

Nightmares

//ooc: anyone wondering how Victor’s doing? :)

note: this is unedited and pretty much a spontaneous piece so it isn’t that good??? but I do not have the energy to edit this so I’m posting it nearly exactly as I wrote it :)

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

Daysleep, he found, could happen in one or two ways. If he was settling down in a comfortable bed - it felt as natural as falling asleep without the long stressful hours of insomnia that used to chase him when he was alive.

But then there was the times, like now.

The laptop screen was giving him a headache, he’d been staring at it so long. He’d tried anything and everything he could think of to no avail. He wasn’t a hacker, but he was trying - learning. He unlocked his phone at the table, ignoring the time and the feeling he felt of daysleep approaching. He typed up all his current password attempts.

He yawned and rolled his shoulders a bit, he’d been sat here since he’d woken up. Ellie was next to him on a perch that Ash had brought over as he still flitted about between the addresses they’d acquired.

‘Victor,’ Ash said with a wide yawn, placing a hand on his shoulder.

‘You’ve been at this all night, time to sleep,’ His dad said, leaning down to hug him and resting his head on his shoulder.

‘I have a little bit more time,’ He replied back, swallowing the yawn his throat tried to release.

Ash sighed and gave him a gentle squeeze as he stood and let him go.

‘Just don’t pass out on the laptop, hm?’ He said as he stood.

‘I won’t,’ He said with faux confidence.

His dad looked back at him for a moment, and he glanced up at him for a moment. He watched Ash shake his head from the corner of his vision but did leave him to it.

He was alone in the library, Bartholomew pretty much had left him be since he handed Victor the laptop - Ash had mostly been out in pursuit of addresses and his own contacts to try find any thread they could pull on.

All alone again, working on a laptop with little to hope of opening it. But he was going to try, even if Shadow McFuckface decided to teleport in at any port and shank him for it.

He gently lifted the laptop with shaky-with-fatigue-hands and placed it back a little, so his hands barely touched the keys on the keyboard.

The library was concealed from the sun, but he felt it rise and he stubbornly tried to resist his daysleep. He managed to hit the enter key on a certain password before he completely blacked out as daysleep slammed him down into unconsciousness despite his valiant protests.

-

He was in a lake of blood, chest deep in it. When he moved it felt himself sink further so he stilled - the tactic one would do in quicksand. He look around to try find a way to get out.

The lake of blood he was stuck in was surrounded by trees, one with a particular root that was stretched out towards him and within arm reach. It looked thick and sturdy. He did look around, making sure no one else who could him was around before he slowly moved his arms - moving them about to get them out of the blood and grab onto the tree branch and slowly draw himself towards the tree. And towards the shore.

Within the blink of an eye, a figure was crouched on the source of the root - himself. But not him - an exact replica except this one had blood red eyes and was covered in it head to foot - even in clothes.

‘You never give up, do you?’ It asked with his voice as it tilted it’s head at him.

He stopped moving for a moment and clung to the branch, staring at this figure before he kept moving - feeling the blood of the pool clinging harder to him - trying to make him sink.

‘Oh but you have hope, silly thing you are. That maybe you can keep living and being human. Have friends and a family - pretend to be normal,’ It singsonged to him pleasantly as it sat down and kicked it’s legs out freely through the blood with ease.

‘I took control once. Twice. You really don’t like that, do you?’

The lake had somehow risen up to his shoulders - and he was breathing heavily with the exertion of trying to pull himself up and along. Half way up the branch towards this thing - towards the shore.

‘You can’t ignore me forever. One day you’ll have to stop running,’ It said with a wide smirk - an expression that looked contorted and exaggerated.

It was certainly a foriegn expression that had never graced his own face and it did not belong on his face.

‘You’re not me. I’m me,’ He retorted as he struggled to pull himself upright to a thicker part of the branch that would likely support him.

He was still away from shore - but the branch here was thick enough to support his weight. He knew it. But he struggled to pull himself upright.

A throaty heart laugh was his reply as the fake him easily got to its feet and strode over to him with easy. Crouching and extending it’s hand toward him. That same contorted expression on its face.

‘We’re one and the same now. You’ve lost your one and only friend. You’re not going to find her, you’re not some excellent hacker or even a excellent tracker. Though you could be that second one if you stopped suppressing me - you know that,’ It still held it’s hand extended.

Victor growled, grabbed the fake by the hand and with a surge of strength took it by the hand and threw it over his shoulder and used the strength to pull himself upright.

‘I don’t need you. I’ll find her,’ He said as he pulled himself to the branch and into a crouch.

He got up, looking down he saw none of the blood had soaked him and his fake self had seemingly disappeared. He turned to run up the tree branch like a tightrope walked in a performance - agile and quick of foot until the scene melted away in an instant.

He was in Chicago - bathed in the light of a street lamp and facing an alleyway where he could see Rosary. She was being held, neck bent backwards at such an angle that couldn’t have been comfortable with a knife held to her neck lightly - enough to let her scream for his aid but not enough for her to have any room to escape.

The figure holding her in this dark alleyway as a shadow - not so much literal as a blank faced figured with no discernable facial features but a tall strong pale man with dark hair in a dark suit.

‘Help me!’ Rosary screamed.

‘Come any closer and she dies,’ The figure said - a deep rattling voice that echoed off the walls of the alley - especially ominous given it had no mouth.

‘Rosary…�� He was torn.

Run to help… But she’d die. She was a hardy vampire… Could he move quick enough to get her help? To prevent her death?

He moved forward in an instant, going to knock the knife from the hands of her captor. But he didn’t know who or what they were beside Lasombra. He didn’t expect the man to have the strength to use the knife to decapitate her within barely a second. He watched the man dissolve into the shadows as he dropped to his nears next to where Rosary’s ashes were.

‘Why didn’t you save me?’ The voice of Rosary whispered in his ear.

‘You should have helped me,’

‘I don’t know why I befriended some useless man like you. At least Micheal has his uses,’

‘If you can’t save me, someone more superior - how are you supposed to protect yourself? Keep pretending you and your little family are going to be perfect together forever?’

The whispers of Rosary kept whispering as the scene of the Chicago alleyway went dark.

-

He woke crying, sobbing. Every doubt from his dreams being whispered by the inner voice of his mind as he woke up thinking about the dream. It took him about a minute to register the soft feel of Ellie up against his arm - mostly concealed by his hoodie and then he released - the laptop.

He sat up and saw someone had covered him in a blanket - a covered in crows that he had definitely left at home but he ignored it as he swivelled the chair away from the desk as he cried so the liquid would invade the laptop and break it.

He was alone except for Ellie who hopped up to coo softly on the back of the chair for him as he untangled himself from the blanket. After he did he saw his hands were covered in blood from his tears and tried to wipe it off onto his jeans and saw the blood ooze out of his hands - given he was crying and upset… It was likely he hadn’t noticed the bane of his own blood manifest.

He didn’t want to get up, he didn’t want to deal with it. He felt more than heard Ellie get off the chair and go fly somewhere he swiveled the chair back around. The laptop was safe. Where he’d been sleeping was covered in blood but he’d pushed the laptop away thankfully…

Despite the blood pouring out of his hands - he picked up his phone, his bane now obscuring his vision of his tears but typed in what he remembered trying last night. His phone was probably blood proof… right?

He didn’t care. He made a new list of passwords to try but he felt no inclination of getting up. He heard a door open somewhere, he wasn’t sure and after a minute Ash appeared with a mug for him.

‘A little birdy told me you needed something to eat, baba,’ Ash said and put the mug down on the table for him.

He sort of looked at the mug, looking at his hands and just felt how soaked he was - could smell the almost intoxicating smell of his own blood and drank the blood from the mug like one would do a coffee.

‘We’ll find her,’ Ash said as he rested the side of his hip against the table as he watched Victor drink.

‘But -’ He softly clanked his upper fangs against the ceramic mug to not finish that thought - voice what he’d seen in his dream.

It felt real but it wasn’t real… It felt real but wasn’t real…

‘Ibn, did you have a nightmare?’ Ash asked.

He nodded.

Ash leaned forward to gently tousle the dry parts of his hair that weren’t covered in his blood.

‘I know your nightmares feed you lies. Don’t listen, we’ll find her and bring her back, yeah?’ Ash said.

Victor didn’t reply and finished drinking the blood and felt all the wounds close up so he finally wiped his hands on his jeans. He looked up when Ash gently pulled out a piece of cloth to gently wipe up the blood on his face, including where it had crusted and dried around his eyes from his crying…

‘We’ll bring her back… I want her to be okay,’ He said softly to Ash.

‘Then you can go back to playing bodyguard instead of me, hm?’ Ash said with a grin.

Victor snorted but nodded. Then Ash came closer to clap him on the shoulder.

‘Go shower and get changed, we have a day of hacking to attempt,’ Ash said, practically pulling Victor out of the seat as Victor nodded and went to go shower and get dressed….

Though he would probably have to do some minor cleaning because of his stupid spontaneous hunger bleeding… but first a shower…

[inviting-nonsenseworld]

Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender

Pairing: Zukka

Trope: Damaged Vocal Cords

Word count: 1,992

Summary: Zuko mouths something back at him and stops. He opens his mouth again, but only a garbled noise comes out. He winces, putting a hand to his throat, and Sokka’s eyes widen when he sees the bandages wrapped around his hand.

AO3

Here’s my first fic for the @badthingshappenbingo! I saw this trope and I wanted to write for this pairing, so here you go. Lots of hurt/comfort and hugs for our boys. You can read it underneath here, or on AO3. If anyone wants to make a request, feel free to do it <3

----

Sokka doesn’t know what clued him in.

After long days traveling with the Southern Water Tribe commission to Ba Sing Se and arriving late in the night, hours after dinner had been served to the guests in the Palace, Sokka’s eyelids are heavy. All his notes had been scattered through their sleeping quarters during the storm from earlier today, so he’s trying to sort the mess he made when he shoved them back in his bag before disembarking.

He tried to convince himself it’ll be worth it to sleep in tomorrow, but he has half a mind to just say screw it and burrow under the covers of the comfy bed against Zuko.

Zuko had been asleep when Sokka arrived - Tui and La, it had been later than he imagined -  a scroll lying forgotten on his chest and dark rings under his eyes. Sokka had kissed his forehead, earning a sleepy smile, but Zuko had been too far gone to do more before sleep claimed him back.

Maybe that’s why Sokka freezes the moment the sound reaches his ears. It’s muffled, an unassuming little noise, and it stops just as soon as it came.

He stares unseeingly at his notes and holds his breath, waiting. And - fuck, there it is again.

Sokka is pushing away from the table and crossing the doorframe to his and Zuko’s room the second he pinpoints where the sound came from. It comes again clearer, and Sokka’s eyes flicker every which way, searching, hands twitching for his boomerang and his muscles tensing.

Then Zuko tosses on the bed, a strangled little gasp escaping his lips.

It takes Sokka’s mind a moment to make the connection over the sound of his heart thumping in his ears.

He curses the second it does.

“No, no, shit, Zuko,” he murmurs, climbing the bed and giving the empty, dark corners of the guest room one last glance. He resolutely doesn’t think about the letter he received just over a week ago and that has haunted some of his nightmares ever since, and shakes Zuko awake.

He tries to be gentle, but there isn’t any good way to wake Zuko from nightmares. 

Zuko’s eyes fly open and he jostles. A choked little noise escapes him, and he stares in bewildered confusion at Sokka, a hazy sheen covering his eyes with something dark. Sokka exhales - that always feels like a punch on his stomach.

“Hey, it’s okay, I’m here,” Sokka shushes him when Zuko mouths his name. Zuko’s shoulders are trembling when Sokka pulls him into a hug, but his arms don't hesitate to wrap around Sokka, his fingers gripping the back of his shirt. Sokka tightens his hold on Zuko. “It’s alright.”

It’s the fifth anniversary since the end of the war. Zuko’s nightmares always get worse around this time.

And despite all the times he’s had to do this after all these years, Sokka still fucking sucks at comforting people. He never knows what he needs to do because apparently even the same people sometimes want different things.

Zuko is trembling in his arms, though, so Sokka presses him closer and just talks. He talks about the newest project he, Katara and Pakku were working on the South Pole before they had to leave. He talks about the improvements they’re making in the buildings, and of the first waterbender child born in the South Pole after so long - born from a Northerner family that moved south after the war, but Katara had still been ecstatic.

Slowly, he feels the tension leave Zuko’s frame, his shuddering breath evening out. He slumps against Sokka, who trails off.

He keeps drawing little patterns on Zuko’s back with his fingers until he pulls away. Sokka takes him in, the way his loose hair is a mess and how his golden eyes are staring at Sokka in that soft way that always leaves him warm inside, and Tui and La, Sokka had missed him.

“Hey,” he says, giving him a small smile.

Zuko mouths something back at him and stops. He opens his mouth again, but only a garbled noise comes out. He winces, putting a hand to his throat, and Sokka’s eyes widen when he sees the bandages wrapped around his hand.

He swallows, remembering that letter from last week.

“You lost your voice?” He asks, breathless all of a sudden. “Are you feeling- did someone- did you drink-”

Zuko shakes his head, but Sokka only has eyes for the white bandages.

“Are you sure? We should get a healer to check you. Katara- Katara is in the next room, I think.”

Sokka, Zuko mouths. I’m fine. I had-

Sokka doesn’t understand the rest of what he says. He fetches a piece of parchment and a pen when Zuko makes a writing motion.

I had a sore throat earlier today, he writes.

“Right,” Sokka says. “So you're sure it’s not…”

Zuko nods.

“Right,” Sokka repeats. He slumps against the headboard, running a hand down his face. When Zuko inches closer, his brow furrowed, Sokka lets out a mirthless laugh. “Sorry. I’m the one supposed to be comforting you, not the other way around.”

And Zuko still looks ragged, his dark circles highlighting the redness of his eyes even under the soft moonlight coming through the window.

Zuko gives him a judging look. He runs his thumb under one of Sokka’s eyes, and yeah, alright, Sokka gets his point.

He sighs. He can’t help but look at Zuko’s bandaged hand again. He presses a kiss to it, feeling Zuko's hand tremble, and before he knows it, they’re tangled in each other’s arms. Zuko’s lips rest against the skin of Sokka’s neck, sending a shiver down his spine, and he props his chin on Zuko’s head, breathing in his spicy but sweet smell. It comes from a Fire Nation hair lotion, but it’s familiar and so Zuko, and Sokka loves it.

“I'm so glad you're alright,” he says. “I mean, I knew you were alright, I got the message from the hawk not one day after I arrived at the South Pole, but I still...” He takes a deep breath, and the words come tumbling out. “I’m sorry.”

Zuko jerks away.

“Sokka, ” Zuko says in a strained whisper before dissolving into a coughing fit.

“Shit. Don’t try to talk.”

He goes after the pitcher of water he had left in the other room and fills a cup for Zuko.

Zuko drinks it, still scowling at Sokka over the cup. He makes a frustrated noise when he still can’t speak afterward.

“Take it easy,” Sokka murmurs.

Zuko struggles to find the parchment and the pen lost somewhere between the sheets. He brandishes the paper on Sokka’s face, and the words “NOT YOUR FAULT ” are underlined a few times.

“Pot, kettle, Mr. Fire-Lord-I-carry-the-sins-of-my-nation-alone.”

That’s different.

“Not that much.” But that was a conversation for another day when they weren’t both so tired and frustrated. And when they could both talk too. “I’m just, it's good to see you're alright.”

Zuko’s eyes soften. He cups Sokka’s cheeks and leans closer, capturing his lips in a kiss. It’s reassurance and warmth, and Sokka melts against him, feeling a knot of tension in his chest unravel. He sighs against Zuko’s lips and pulls him closer.

“I missed you,” Sokka says after they part. He doesn’t get all the words Zuko mouths, but he understands that he was repeating the sentiment. “Do you want to talk about your nightmare?”

Zuko grimaces. He looks away for a few seconds. It was stupid.

"I bet it wasn't as silly as that dream I had about a pink hipo-elephant."

Zuko's mouth curls up at the memory, and Sokka grins back.

It's just. It was my father. Again. After the discussion I had with some of my ministers, I guess some things just came back to me.

"More Ozai supporters?" Sokka asks.

He hates the way Zuko's shoulders tense again. I think so. It seems the more of them we find, the more appear. I thought I was done weeding them out of my administration, but I guess not.

"Fuck."

Zuko nods with a wry grin.

“So, what, you had a yelling contest against them?"

More or less?

Sokka snorts. "How can you not know?"

It wasn’t that much yelling. Zuko shrugs. Just... long talks. Frustrating talks.

“I can imagine.” Sokka shakes his head. “I mean, I remember how loud you could be when chasing after us all around the world. You did a number on your voice this time.” He chuckles when Zuko rolls his eyes. "They didn't come to Ba Sing Se with you, did they?"

Zuko shakes his head. But we couldn't lock them up without further evidence on their standing. All I have is some unfortunate remarks here and there.

And Zuko didn't want to abuse his power and just go ahead and lock them up, even if leaving them unchecked for so long while Zuko went to this meeting was a receipt for a new scheme against him when he returned. "Then I'll go back to the Fire Nation with you when the meeting ends. Maybe it's time for the Gaang to make a new field trip."

You know you can't get too involved. The political uproar that would cause would be immense.

"Oh, but we won't get involved." Sokka grins at Zuko's confused look. "We'll just be there, visiting our friend, and if any assassins dare try anything, well. We can't be held accountable if we happen to be in the way. Nor if we happen to overhear any interesting conversations or find suspicious papers."

Zuko glares at him, but Sokka doesn't relent his smile until he makes another frustrated noise and mouths his name with an indignant expression.

"I know, okay? We'll be careful. But let us help you," Sokka says. He holds Zuko's hand, running his thumb softly over the bandages. "Let me help you, at least. I can't do nothing this time." He has had his share of keeping quiet and distant from this situation. He isn't about to leave his boyfriend to return home alone to an almost certain trap and wait until the next letter came, not knowing if it'll carry good or bad news. A court like the one of the Fire Nation is hard to clean, like Zuko often complains about, much less in a little time, but Sokka sure can try to gather as much information as possible at least. One of the perks of being the Water Tribe Ambassador in the Fire Nation is that people won't question him much if they see him wandering around. If the others join him - and Sokka thinks they will - then they can cover even more ground faster. And sure, they'll have to sit down and plan their steps carefully if they want to avoid any scandal, but it's achievable.

It won't be easy, but it'll be something.

Maybe Zuko can see some of that in Sokka's face because he pulls him in for a soft kiss.

We can talk more tomorrow. Zuko mouths. You need to sleep.

"You do too," Sokka says. "Do you think you'll be able to?"

Zuko hesitates. I don't know.

"I'll wake you up if you have another nightmare," Sokka says. He plants a kiss on Zuko’s temple, and revels in the small smile he gets in answer. "We can talk with Katara in the morning - she might be able to do something for your voice. It'll be better than not being able to talk during the meeting."

Definitely.

"I can already see it: the Fire Lord spits fire at a colleague after being ignored during the entire Four Nations annual meeting!"

Zuko swats at his shoulder, and Sokka laughs.

He considers changing out of his traveling clothes but deems it as too much work as Zuko burrows against him. He pulls the sheets over them, and soon they’re both asleep.

[cowandcalf]

Writer’s Month 2020 - To Find A Way

Prompt No.14 - Metamorphosis Part II

Chapter 1 - 7

They watch Grace play. Danny stays close the to climbing frame with all the ropes to make sure he could run to the rescue if his girl should get into trouble. Steve mimics a statue and stays silent for a long time. Danny's tongue is stuck to the roof of his mouth. All the great remarks he figured he could throw at Steve dissolve into a fog.

He learns once more how difficult it is to transport a special, magical mood into a normal Wednesday. Steve seems to be miles away. The bonding moment they've experienced is non-existent. Danny can't stand the silence any longer. If he wants the quiet, he hikes to the top of a damn mountain or goes snorkeling. "Hey, you okay there, Steve?" He side-eyes the tall, dark, handsome guy next to him.

Steve licks his lips and squints into the bright sunlight. "Yeah, I'm okay."

"You had, uh, a scare this morning with Mary, rattles every man. We think pregnant women are fragile but God, believe me, they're not."

Steve shoots him a thoughtful glance. "You speak from experience, I think. You're a father. You have a sweet girl."

Danny knows Steve doesn't mean to sound reproachful, but his words affect him. "Yes, that's my baby girl. I'm a proud father. We have the life we choose. Or sometimes life chooses us."

"So, you're married? Do you plan on having more children? I haven't seen your wife." Steve gets braver. He even turns and stands closer to Danny. Danny likes where this is going. Steve's checking the turf.

"I was married. Rachel and I have worked hard to become friends for Grace's sake. And no, no more kids on the way. I'm divorced and, uh, I'm single." Danny can't look at Steve. The urge to explain is still pressuring behind his chest. He kind of swipes the playground with his eyes. He hopes he sounds nonchalantly enough. "I'm here for Grace. Today, I mean. It's uh, Rachel, her mother, has an appointment and her husband's not here yet. I'm an emergency backup. Didn't expect to run into you on the maternity ward, though." Danny twists his upper body to check up on Steve's mood. "I honest to God thought Mary's your wife." Okay, his heartbeat just picked up speed. His mouth is as dry as the Gobi Desert.

Steve goes quiet again. Danny senses his troubled mind and wished Steve would be a bit more responsive. It's no fun to talk to a menhir. Danny doesn't get easily pushed out of his comfort zone. But add emotions to the mix and he's as light as a feather in strong wind. Jeez. Danny purses his lips. He fights the urge to assure Steve he's into guys too and that there's nothing wrong with the circumstance to have a family with a woman and why the hell does he even bother? This guy drives him nuts. Danny's armpits are uncomfortably wet.

"No, Mary's my younger sister. I wouldn't be a good father, I guess. I wouldn't know what to do with a helpless bundle, too scared to mess up. I don't know. I've never had to make that decision –" Steve bends his head and watches his shoes, "if I wanna be a father I mean. Hasn't happened so far." He adds.

"Hey, you did well. You made sure Mary's well taken care of."

"We had a big argument before she let me maneuver her into my truck to drive her to the hospital. She's so stubborn. I found her on all four, doing garden work. I freaked. She had cramps and I was so scared. She said, she overdid it and that's all. She just wanted to lie down until everything would calm down. But I couldn't – " Steve rubs with his fist at his forehead. "I got so scared. I had this horror movie running through my mind. I saw how she gave birth, collapsing out on the lawn behind the house or something like this. I needed to bring her here. I can handle tough calls but not when it's my baby sister nine months pregnant with my niece. I've just lost my nerves, I guess." Steve laughs bashfully. "Not my bravest moment."

"You did good, Steve. Mary's going to be fine and she'll be okay. You'll see, nature knows how to do what needs to be done when it's time. Women give birth since humanity exists. Kawika is with her. You're fine and I know you're going to spoil your niece rotten once she's born."

Steve smiles at him and Danny's bones turn into useless goo. "Why haven't you texted? Called? I thought you wanted to get that rain check on lunch?" Danny chews on his bottom lip. His eyes scan the playground to make sure Grace isn't in any danger. "I've waited for your call." Should he have said that? Too much pressure, no, he shouldn't have said that.

Steve clears his throat. "Yeah, about that. I, uh, I was hungry, but I got caught up in work. You know, uhm, I had to get the seedlings into the ground. I would have – would have called, you know? But days," Steve steps closer, still with his arms crossed over his chest as if he has to hug himself, "days sometimes flow into each other and I can't really say how much time has passed. It's been almost a week since we've met and when time passes the things that happened start to shape in something else. I wasn't – it was an intense afternoon. I, uhm," Steve draws a breath before he continues, "you saw me at the worst. I wasn't sure if you wanted to, you know, go for lunch, have a chat. I'm not the funny average guy to talk about the weather over chicken salad."

Danny has his eyes on Grace. He wants to give Steve the space to have his mini freak-out about the fact he might have scared Danny off. He ignores how the heat in the pit of his stomach flows in all directions. "You forgot my number." Danny states calmly, "just say it, Steve. Be honest. I'm not offended. Okay a bit, yes, a bit. I'm offended a bit that you forgot my number." Danny rocks on his heels back and forth while he rambles. "I expected a SEAL, even a SEAL buried up to his nose in flowers and plants to remember a few, easy numbers. Don't you get trained for that? I thought you're tough multitasking guys. The Army is a fun club."

Steve stiffens and scoffs. "I haven't forgotten your number. It's 808-925-1717. Happy? And it's the Navy, Danny. The Navy."

Danny can't believe how fast Steve falls for that dumb joke. "God, you're so easy to tease. Don't be so uptight about it. Look at you, all puffed out chest and standing at attention. I know, man, it's the Navy. I didn't mean to offend you." He hopes his smile is appeasing. "Good to know you didn't forget my number." He darts a look at Steve and sees how he sets his jaw to keep his lips from being pulled into a grin. Instead, he gazes off into the distance and fishes his cell from the pocket and unlocks the screen.

Two seconds later, Danny's cell rings. He takes the call with the unknown caller ID. "Yeah, Detective Williams, HPD – who's it?" He frowns hard at Steve who stands there like a boy who has all fun doing a silly prank.

"Yeah, Detective Williams, McGarrett here, Steve McGarrett. Do you remember me?"

"Yes, you big goof. The Army guy, isn't it?" Danny can't control the laughter. He really needed to say that.

Steve glares at him, for real this time. "You owe me a fat rain check on lunch and for being too dense to know the difference between the Army and the Navy. I'm hungry. Lunch. Today. You're paying. You're in?"

"You know how stupid this is to stand three feet apart and to give me a call, don't you? I can hear you talking and the echo in my hear is strange. How old are you? Five?"

"You haven't answered my question." Steve still speaks into his phone and watches Danny at the same time.

"Yes. Lunch. Today. Good. I'm in. Where do you wanna go?"

"Have you ever taken Grace to Kame's shrimp truck for Kame's specialty of the day? She'll love it."

Whenever Steve says Grace's name, Danny gets kind of dizzy with something he doesn't want to explore. Steve watches him with a gentle, kind expression. Too much for Danny's heart to stand for more than five seconds. "No, I haven't but Kame's place it is." He hangs up.

"See?" Steve seems utterly satisfied, smug even. Danny notices Steve's faintly colored cheeks.

He has tried to keep the love at bay. The crazy beast of feelings is toying with him, tugging at the golden rope wound around his heart. But he can't hold it and he doesn't want to. The way Steve stands there, watching children playing, having a hawk-eye on Grace, makes it impossible for Danny to hold on to the rope that keeps the insane sensation in his heart controlled. He lets the leash go and stands his ground when the wave of feelings rushes through his body.

This guy is going to be the death of him. Danny's cell rings again. This time it's Stan. "Hi, Stan. Yeah, she's fine. Where are you? Give me a second. I'll meet you at the entrance. Yes, she asked me to make sure you'll find her." Danny's eyes search for Grace.

"Danny, it's fine. I'll take care of her. Go, go be with Stan. We'll wait for you right here, okay?" Steve squeezes Danny's shoulder with his large hand.

"You don't mind? You'll keep her safe?" Danny asks hesitantly. He never lets a stranger look after Grace. But Steve, Steve's different.

"Danny, I'll take care of her as if she's my daughter." This time, Steve blushes bright red but he doesn't correct himself. "I'm good at keeping people safe, especially your daughter. Go, Grace is safe with me."

Danny exhales and covers Steve's hand on his shoulder shortly with his own. He swallows. This man, God, he can totally feel the softness of Steve's lips pressed to his just by looking at his mouth. The bottom of his stomach drops out. Danny forces his eyes to stay above Steve's nose, but he gets distracted by the longest lashes he has ever seen on a guy. Steve waits for reassurance. Danny forces his eyes to focus. "Yeah, good. Thank you, Steve. I mean it. I'm back in a flash."

Danny still sees Steve's smile after he reunited Stan with Rachel and made sure they were good. He hurries back to the playground on the other side of the street. But –

He doesn't see Steve. Where the hell is he?

Danny runs faster. And where the hell is Grace?

For a split second, Danny's heart races and his muscles tremble faintly under the strain of too much tension. And then, he hears the lighthearted giggle from his little girl. He jogs over to where the sound comes from. He can't believe his eyes. This tough, combat-hardened SEAL sits on a seesaw with a bright grin on his face. Grace is safely tucked in between the handlebar and Steve's strong arms. He boxes her in to keep her safe. On the other side of the seesaw, three kids shout and laugh simultaneously. They try to fight the weight, to make the seesaw move.

Danny bites the thick rope of emotions back that tries to strangle his throat.

"Danno!" Grace screams and giggles with her head thrown back. She laughs at Steve and Steve looks down at her and answers her laugh with an even brighter grin.

No one ever has told Danny that happiness can be as sharp as a spear. The detonation of feelings almost has him bend over. "Monkey!" He waves and jogs closer. "What are you guys doing?"

Steve whispers something in her ear. "Winning!" His little girl screams on the top of her small lungs. The kids on the other side shout something back.

When they are safely back on the ground Grace throws herself into Danny's arms. "Danno, that was great! Steve is fun! We won!" She clings to him.

Danny hugs her extra tightly. He follows Steve's stance and the way his eyes search his, not letting go until he stands right next to Danny.

"Thank you," Danny whispers.

"You're welcome, Danno." Steve has a way to roll the letters on his tongue that makes Danny want to bury his face in the curve of Steve's shoulder.

Danny puts Grace down and keeps an eye on Steve. "Danno is –" he downplays how much Steve makes him want to reinvent the world. He can't let Steve have that name in his mouth. He can't. "Danno is Grace's endearment for me. I – You can't, it's –"

"I told Steve he could use it, too. He asked me." Grace grabs Danny's fingers and pulls him forward.

Danny blinks. How long has he been away? Two days? "How much have you guys talked? I haven't been away that long!"

Steve shrugs.

"I'm hungry, Danno. Can we go now? Steve said we're going to see a friend. He has shaved ice and French fries."

Danny gawps as Steve. Steve stuffs his hands down the front pockets of his cargos. He looks only half-guilty. "I told her Kame has also lots of different salads and shrimps. And that her daddy knows what she likes for lunch."

"Good choice of words. Good choice." Danny furrows his brows and almost drowns in Steve's gaze. "Yeah, let's head to Kame's. I don't have a car. My HPD partner drove me."

"If that's the only thing that's holding us back, then – we're good." Steve jingles with the car keys. "My truck is over there. Let's go."

Danny has no memory of how they've ended up talking about dolphins. The air is saturated with a heavy scent of wind and sea and a wild beauty Danny has never sensed before. Grace cheerfully answers Steve's questions about the animals she loves the most. Sometimes she also screams their names. "I love fishes! I love dolphins!"

"Baby, tone it down. My ears ring when you shout like that. Dolphins aren't fish, Monkey. They belong to the mammals. They breathe air just like you." He twists on his seat to wink at his baby girl.

She's tiny with the seatbelt across her small chest. The black back seat almost swallows her up. It's huge. Steve's truck is huge and everything in it. She bends her knees and tucks them to her chest. She smiles one of her staggering happy smiles. "I love mamas!" She shouts and giggles at the same time.

"Mammals. A difficult word but you're doing great." Danny's mood is dangerously close to soaring high. It's somewhere up in the stratosphere where rainbows get born and where space waste gets burned when entering the earth's atmosphere. But he couldn't care less.

Steve wears a small smile that makes him glow. Danny looks out of the window. His eyes would have betrayed him under one second flat. He inhales deeply to wallow in the scent of Steve's skin and the way his detergent wafts over to him, tickling his nose and making his heart ache.

"You love dolphins, Grace?"

"YES!" She yells.

"It's time we get some food into you, Grace-face. Look we're here!" Danny unbuckles the seatbelt and pushed the door open. Kame's place is busy with lunch guests. "Hey, Steve! Look! Isn't that Mary and Kawika over there? Whoa, Kono and Chin are also here. Kame's having the time of the day with all the money his getting out of us."

Steve jumps out of the car to scowl over where a bunch of people sit and talk. Danny touches his arm after he helped Grace out of the car. "Steve, you okay?"

"I – Mary's here. She should be lying in bed with her feet on a pillow not moving an inch until the baby's born. What is she doing here?"

"Come on, let's find out. And Steve, before you throw Mary in the back of your truck to drive her home, let Kawika handle it."

"I wouldn't do that!" Steve blurts.

"Maybe you believe that but the way you stare over at her I fear for her lunch. Go easy on her. She's fine Steve. Pregnant women gotta eat."

They get greeted with loud cheering. Kame is serving the first round. "Look what the cat dragged in. Danny with his little girl. It's time you bring her around. Sit down, pua li'ili'i. You hungry?"

Danny places Grace next to Kono. Too many people make her go all quiet and shy. Steve greets the bunch like they're old friends. Kono fires a gazillion questions at Danny only with her eyes. He just ignores her with an elegant move. "Mary, how are you. Is everything okay? Steve was a bit shocked to see you here. He's afraid you might overdo it again."

Mary wipes at her mouth with a napkin. "My brother," she makes sure Steve hears her, "thinks every time I get up our sweet little flower slips out as if I have any intentions to give birth standing upright." She laughs and Kawika pulls her protectively against his side.

"Go easy on him, darling." Danny hears Kawika whisper.

Steve glares at Mary and steals a shrimp off her plate. "Look at your belly. It's so big. You're ripe like an apple. Let me worry okay?"

"Punk, relax. I'm fine. I was hungry. After lunch, Kawika takes me home. Happy?"

Steve takes her hand and has her look at him. "I'll drop by to check up on you."

"I love you, Punk," Mary whispers. "Thank you."

Steve thins his lips. He gifts her with a small smile but doesn't say it back. He takes the seat across Danny and gets involved in a conversation with Chin.

Danny plops down on the bench. "Do you know each other?" He asked dumfounded over to where Steve catches up with Kono, Chin, and Kawika. Kono gifts him with a stupid face and completely slack-jawed.

"You're kidding, right, Danny?"

"No, I'm not. I – I haven't expected you to know each other is all."

"Kukui High, football, quarterback. Freaking Hawai'i, surfing. Brah, of course, we know each other. We hung out together at the beach. We all grew up in Hawai'i. Steve's ohana. He's gone to save the world and now he's back. We all make sure he's fine, getting along with life and all, you know." Kono slaps his back. "Dude, you didn't know that?"

Danny wants to scream. He wants to go for a walk. "How the hell would I know that? I'm the new guy, remember? You have never even mentioned anything about knowing a Steve!" He cuts Grace's shrimps in small pieces to distract him from this unveiling. He can't look in Steve's direction when he sees Steve matching names and events together.

"Danny's your partner?" Steve asks Kono with so much disbelief in his voice it's comical. "He's the haole you talked about?" Okay, that high-pitched voice is a bit unsexy.

After that Danny's memories are blurry.

He remembers a lot of laughter, especially Steve's low, rare carefree rumble. At one point, Kono punches Danny hard and makes faces at him. She points out how he hasn't checked his phone a single time since they've sat down. That got her thinking. She's about the figure out who he might have a secret crush on. Danny kicks her shin and pinches her thigh to shut her up. Kono gives him the stink-eye.

Danny stirs the attention immediately away from Kono with her razor-sharp mind. He calls over to Mary. He asks her if she could be a bit more specific about the details Steve has told her about him. Because that's what she said when they met at the hospital. Strangely enough, Steve chooses that moment to get seconds from Kame's hit of the day. The chatter dies as if well-orchestrated. All eyes are on Steve's sister.

"You have to know one thing, Danny. I talk Steve."

Danny forces himself not to cast a look over to where Steve chats with Kame. "That's a language?"

"Yeah, actually it is. And we all talk Steve. It's – it's a thing. When our mom died and when our dad got lost for some time someone needed to take care of Steve. We all did but I'm his sister. So, he doesn't say much and it's up to us to decipher what is hidden beneath the words he utters. We had a game going as teenagers. He never liked it when we did that. Steve doesn't do emotion; at least not the same way we handle them."

Danny eats. He's not hungry and he's not sure if his body is able to fight the tightness in his throat. He swallows and pretends his skin isn't on fire. "So, okay, what did Steve say that made you recognize me at the hospital?"

Mary's face morphs into a seriousness Danny wouldn't have thought possible. She looks as if she carries wisdom you only gain when of old age. She's calm when she answers his question. "Steve said just two words after a fruitless conversation to get more out of him. He said, 'he stayed' besides that, you're blond and asked all the right questions."

Rachel is downstairs resting from the day's treatment. Stan prepares a simple dinner in the kitchen. Danny tucks Grace in. It has been an adventurous day and Grace is tired. Danny reads to her from her favorite book, but she almost falls asleep. He puts the book aside.

"Did you have a good day, Monkey?"

"Mm-hmm. It was fun. Steve is fun."

"Yeah, he is."

"I asked Kono to take me surfing. Steve surfs too. He said he could teach me, too."

"Grace, baby, we've talked about this. It's still too early. Next year, okay?"

Grace plays with the bed cover before she whispers. "Steve has dolphins and he said he makes me see them."

Danny sits up. He doesn't lose his smile on his face. "He has dolphins. Really? Where?"

"He said, at the beach, where he lives. Danno, dolphins! Can we go see them? I want to go. Steve said we can come anytime." Grace glows and looks so hopefully at him. He knows how much she loves dolphins. "We can go tomorrow. Please, Danno, please." She whines, too exhausted and too hyper about the fact that Steve got miraculously some dolphins somewhere at his house.

"Let me talk to him, first, okay? And then we can go see them. But you might haven't heard it right, Monkey. Are you sure he said there are dolphins at the beach?"

Grace nods enthusiastically. "At the beach, Steve's beach. But we have to paddle out, to see them. He said he's going to show me. Can I go? Please, Danno." She begs.

Danny kisses her forehead and whispers in her ear, "of course, Monkey. We'll go visit Steve and he's going to show you the dolphins."

Back at home, Danny's finally alone with his thought. He can't stand that Steve told, promised even, his little girl dolphins. Real dolphins, the wild ones in the sea. No one promises a child something without keeping it. Danny doesn't know how he feels. Steve should have asked him. He should have consulted him. Danny can't stand the picture of his little girl far out on a paddleboard on the ocean. Not even a boat. Nothing, his girl has nothing lost on the ocean. Not yet, too dangerous.

Danny types already the words to send Steve a text. He's agitated and paces the small space in his apartment. He's also angry. What was Steve thinking to make such a promise?

Danny deletes the written text. He grabs his keys from the kitchen table instead and storms outside. He peels off the parking lot and heads towards Steve's place in the jungle. He needs to ask him in person what the hell he was thinking. Who has freaking dolphins at the beach at home?

Danny's headlights lighten the dark street on the freeway. It's late. The first drop of rain hits the windshield when Danny makes the turn to drive up the dirt road to Steve's place.

TBC

Also on AO3