#probably singing waterfall as a lullaby

[thomine]

the 10 year bet | thoma

RELATIONSHP | thoma / reader

TAGS | general audiences, unrequited love, angst, fights & quarrels, unresolved tension, canon universe (probably far into the future...), not proofread

SUMMARY | after 10 years since he left his hometown, thoma reaches out to you. he's coming home.

WORD COUNT | 1.9k words

INFO | angstpril 2024, day 1 (homesick) | notes

The wind sings only in Mondstadt, and as Thoma steps through the large stone entrance, the wind faintly greets him with a lullaby from 10 years ago. It was a song you hummed when you rested your head on his shoulder after a long day of fun. It is a tune he sings to himself when he feels lonely in a foreign land. It is what he remembers of home.

Citizens of the nation of freedom walk slowly, as if basking in the sun instead of focusing on getting from point A to point B. Thoma never had an issue with their leisure pace 10 years ago. However, as he sets his eyes on the silhouette of the fountain in the middle of the square, legs stretching across uneven cobbled pathways, eyes hunting for gaps to weave through human traffic, annoyance nibbles his thoughts. He’s careful not to step on anyone’s toes or disrupt their route, and the constant calculation makes him restless.

He downs his irk with reason. This is the day he had been yearning for years. Every cold, electrifying kiss from the gales of Inazuma was like a punch in the gut—a reminder his skin was nurtured in gentler atmospheres. The night before, he could hardly sleep, muscles contracted with anticipation.

But today is not just the day he goes home. As he leans against the fountain, he is unsure if he’ll recognise you when you arrive. Many things can change in 10 years.

You were his best friend. 

You were his close confidant. 

You were the last to know of his departure as he left when you went on vacation. 

You would have talked him out of going after his father with all he had—a small wooden rented boat and crates of dandelion wine. Maybe you would have helped him raise funds for a proper journey, or you might have argued with him to stay behind. Truth to be told, as much as he knew you, he could never predict your reactions when it came to him. Once, you ordered his usual instead of yours at Hunter’s Share. Another, you flared when he suggested you take an opportunity in another nation. 

He thought he would never find you again, especially when his letter to your old address returned with the name of someone else. Thankfully, the old lady who stayed at your past residence knew your new address, and to Thoma’s relief, you replied.

You will be free to meet him at the fountain on the first day he visits Mondstadt. You cannot guarantee the time you’ll arrive, but you’ll be there.

Thoma waits. 

The sound of water splashing behind him is off. It’s as if the concentration of the water changed, making it louder, harsher to his ears—which is strange as he’s heard rougher sounds from larger waterfalls. The marble ledge he’s leaning on isn’t quite as smooth as he remembered either.

Thankfully, his thoughts are distracted by a shadow. He looks up.

You are here.

“Kept you waiting, didn’t I?” 

Thoma tries his best to control the elation running across his features.

“It wasn’t that long,” he replies, although he’s glad you appeared as soon as you did. He didn’t want to admit it, but he felt like he was playing monkey in the middle while observing everyone that walked by, forced to catch whatever they were throwing to each other with shared understanding. “It’s good to see you again. I brought you a gift from Inazuma, and I hope you like it.”

“A gift? It’s not my birthday.”

Before he can fish out the charm from his pocket, your serious tone feels like a slap on his hand. Was a reunion not a reason to give gifts?

“I’m just playing with you.” You broaden your smile. Maybe it’s 10 years in the works, but Thoma is uncertain if you’re lying or not. Still, he hands you the charm which you accept without complaint. It’s stuffed into your pocket before you even lay your eyes on it. “I’ve heard so many things about Inazuma, like how they have flowers that glow in the dark and foxes that roam freely. You wrote in your letter that you lived near a magical forest, right? How magical is it?”

“In the forest dwells small creatures called bake-danuki who are a type of tanuki. They’re dark brown with short snouts. Big eyes and round ears on the top of its head. Sometimes you’ll be chasing one and it’ll disappear only for you to realize they’ve turned into an object. I think you’ll like them.”

“They do sound interesting.”

It didn’t cross his mind that your interests were like his. Perhaps you would have spared the lucky charm some attention if it was shaped after a bake-danuki. But he digresses.

“Inazuma is a beautiful nation, and their history is rich with stories of mythical beasts, like the youkai. You’re right that you’ll see foxes sometimes, but you shouldn’t pet them. They’re still wild animals.”

You listen, slow nodding periodically.

“But enough about me. You wrote in your letter you’re doing fine.” Thoma says.

You shrug, then enter deep thought for a second.

“Where do you stay in Inazuma?” you ask. Thoma almost laughs. With how your face scrunched and twisted with contemplation, he believed you would ask a question he can’t answer.

“I currently reside at the Kamisato Estate. They’re a clan that forms the Yashiro Commission, one of the three ruling commissions in Inazuma. Would you like to visit—”

“Wow, you made your way up in a foreign land. That’s good to hear.” Teasingly—as you did years ago—you slap his shoulder, except the strength you gained also reminds Thoma things are not the same. “But of course you’ll be fine. You’re Thoma.”

“Um,” he starts, unsure how to react. This is bad. You’re angry. Fortunately—or unfortunately—he knows why. A good meal might set the mood to talk about what happened 10 years ago. “It’s been a while since I tried Mondstadt cuisine. Should we eat something at Good Hunter?”

You tilt your head in consideration. “I am peckish.” Yet you don’t move until Thoma does, which gives him the luxury of choosing a table nested far from the public. 

“Are you going to order the usual?” you ask. “If you are then I can just order our dishes from Sara now.”

Thoma nods, using the moment alone to prepare himself. He’s been through worse in Inazuma trying to gain the trust and respect of the locals. He can do this…

You sit down opposite him, face blank.

He takes a deep breath. He calls your name to grab your attention, and when he meets your eyes, he opens his mouth.

“About what happened 10 years ago… you’re mad, aren’t you?” When your expression stiffens, he hangs his head low like a prisoner waiting for the next whip. “I’m sorry. If you have any questions, I will answer honestly.”

He picked a table far from the public eye for privacy since he will be addressing a touchy subject. It is a calmer atmosphere, far from the bustle of the city, but its quietness makes the click of your tongue reverberate in his ears.

“You’re making this difficult…” you mumble. “You know you had every right to leave the nation,” you start, eyes tracing the patterns of the table as a hand of yours tightens your collar in distress. “I’m not mad at you for that. I can’t be.”

A dreadful second of silence joins the conversation.

“How… did you hear of my departure?”

“You’re only asking this now?” You lift yourself off your seat and grit your teeth. Thoma raises both his hands as protection. The other time he has seen you this mad was when he wanted you to take up a scholarship in Sumeru. You were adamant on staying in Mondstadt and didn’t talk to him for a few days before apologising and announcing your decision was final.

You close your eyes and after a second of gaining composure, you sit back down. “I learned you were gone when I knocked on your door the day after I returned. No one replied. Your neighbours said you left with wine. It was only when I investigated in Dorman Port, I learnt you left on a boat to Inazuma.”

“I couldn’t tell anyone. I’m sorry.”

Word travels fast in Mondstadt. People loosen their lips when they drink, and that’s what most citizens do at night to unwind. A single whisper can be milled into a believable legend.

Thoma clasps his hands together under the table. The wind seems to respond to his silent plea with a breeze to cool his warming body.

“What would you have done if I told you my plan?” He continues.

“Does that matter now?”

He expected your words to burst him apart, but it’s you that deflates, a hand supporting your face as if you lost your backbone.

“If I were you, I would do the same. I’ll go after my father too… but I thought… I thought I was enough for you.” You’re lost and tired. For a second, you remind him of when he found himself stranded on Inazuma’s beach. In a whisper, you confess. “I loved you, that’s why it hurts. I thought you felt the same.”

Thoma swallows, and it feels like vinegar sliding down his throat. His memories of the day he left his city is a living nightmare. Somewhere deep down he knew how dangerous his journey was. He felt it in the way the winds sang loudly in his ears, a warning he might not make it back alive. He knew of your feelings, didn’t he? That’s why he didn’t want you to know he’ll embark on such a dangerous journey. He couldn’t face the hurt his actions will cause you, and he made a bet with himself that he could 10 years later.

“But I am angry at something I can be angry with.” The tears that glisten in your eyes shine like a blade as you look him down with furrowed brows. “You could have written to me, said something throughout all those years, yet you kept me up all night, worrying for no reason.”

The food arrives, and you’re quick to duck your head as you fake an excuse to touch your eyes in front of Sara. She probably heard the whole thing, hence why she’s forcing a smile and her “your meal is here!” comes out strained. As swiftly as she arrived, she sprints back to the counter. You ordered your regular meal this time.

He tries to say your name but it doesn’t come out right. It’s on his second attempt that it’s clear enough for you to abide his wishes and look at him again.

“I’m sorry,” he says, using his entire chest to turn his guilt into sincerity. It seems like he lost his own game.

You take a bite of your meal. 

“Anyways,” and as you take another bite, you seem to be back to the self that greeted him at the waterfall. Distant and dull. Untouchable and unreachable. “Don’t expect much from this meeting. I only wrote back so I could give you a tour of home. Once we’re done…”

Home.

Thoma takes a bite of his meal. He can’t remember if it’s supposed to taste like that.

Home.

Home.

The word rings like an alarm.

Home.

Home.

Home.

He stares at the sky. It’s a bright, dazzling blue. A blue so blinding he must look down. Was the sky ever so hostile? Was it ever so deep in colour?

Home.

Home.

Home.

Home.

Home is where his heart belongs, and his home was 10 years ago.

[brandwhorestarscream]

How about the sloth god to start us off? 🦥

I was today years old when I fiund out that there's a sloth emoji oh my god 😍

Anyway! A very good choice indeed, sloth is one of my favorites! First and foremost, the deity of sloth is a goddess whom we've affectionately dubbed Lady Lullaby. Full name is probably Lullabus Unicronus, but Lady Lullaby is so much more fun to say. She's the only daughter of Pandemic, and the 3rd oldest of the 7 sinful gods. Her territory is a ring of great mountains to the east. Her temple rests at the highest peak, where the flowing streams, waterfalls, and whistling reeds make a natural lullaby. It's misty and foggy, plenty chilly, and incredibly tranquil; the perfect place to curl up in a warm bed and sleep. Lady Lullaby's territory is the most tranquil, quiet place on the planet.

Lullaby rules over the dreamscape, and is in a state of perpetual recharge; very rarely does she truly wake up. She is a prophet, able to predict the future in the endless visions she sees in the dreamscape, but due to her constantly being asleep, getting a prophecy or straight answer from her is borderline impossible. She mumbles and slurs her words a lot; getting a complete sentence out of her is a miracle. The dedicated Avatars that worship her know the only way to truly commune with the goddess and seek knowledge of the future is to sleep and find her in the dreamscape, but that's always a great risk. When connecting with Lady Lullaby, there's a very real chance you will never wake up. You could remain trapped asleep for the rest of your life, stuck in a vegetative state, wandering endlessly in the infinite worlds your mind can conjure up

Each of the gods has a sacred animal, and for Lullaby? It's a great, majestic sky whale that swims eternally through Unicronia's skies. It's song echoes like a great lullaby; listening to it is a great way to become bewitched and trapped permanently asleep. Lady Lullaby slumbers eternally on it's back, carried from dream to dream as it carries her from continent to continent across the great planet. It's a very rare but incredibly majestic sight to see, the goddess of sloth being ferried through the clouds on the back of her great sky beast, singing it's deep, echoing call

Be careful not to anger or wake Lady Lullaby, though. If you somehow manage to draw her attention, either in a prophecy or doing something drastic enough news reaches her in her eternal slumber, you have royally fucked up. Any who manage to anger the goddess will bear the worst possible curse: she will permanently take away your sleep. Any cursed by the goddess will never again be able to fall asleep, and are doomed to slowly go insane until they eventually die of exhaustion

[cherryjuicegf]

breathless

Five breaths and a sigh. (ao3)

i.

The fire cackles. The night is calm, as calm as a summer night could be, with all the liveliness that seems to rule nature in such a season, when the leaves of the trees wake up and rustle in the light breeze, when the cicadas hold their competitions of who will sing better in a melody that will spill inside the forest, invisible, making it feel as if the stars themselves have come closer to earth to sing.

It’s hot. Not unbearably. It’s the warmth of the wind that shuffles your hair and tickles your nose as if whispering I’m here, feel me, I’m here.

I’m here.

Jaskier fixes his eyes on his notebook, on his fingers clutching the pen. Breathless.

One would say it was the hotness of the air that deprived him of breath. He is the one. He would very much like to say that. Of course, it’s summer, humidity clings on your lungs, sucks thirstily the oxygen supposed for you. So he wouldn’t be wrong to say that. Not wrong. Just lying.

A pair of amber eyes is trailing his face, his shoulders, his hands. He dares not to meet those eyes. He feels them, clutching at his shirt, dragging him closer and closer, only that he’s still there, a fire burning between him and his breath, the same fire burning his cheeks, his throat, his lungs. He feels those eyes devouring the whole of him, greedily and yet, he has them spitting him back out. It’s okay, really. You need to breathe out to take another breath.

But he still holds his.

His pen falters on the sheet. He lifts his head abruptly as if to prove something to himself. Of course he was looking at you. Of course he had no reason to. He’s not you. His eyes rest on the figure across him near the fire, undisturbed, cleaning a blade. No sign of previous staring at his direction. Only some strands of hair, swinging wildly over the blade.

Jaskier stares. And lets out a breath.

Geralt holds his.

 

ii.

Geralt opens his eyes for the tenth time that night, once again to find the ceiling staring back at him in the darkness of the room. He swallows. He should be able to sleep, he found no reason not to. He’d been craving a soft bed for weeks. The hunt had been a success. He’d been met with dozens of grateful eyes, dozens of relieved smiles. Two tankards of good ale that made his feet go numb. He was tired. All was there. So he finds no reason to be awake.

Only that he does.

He does tonight the same as he did so many other nights, the same as he refused to acknowledge even the barest hint of the burning desire that made his heart thump and his mind dizzy. Not the same as he realizes that this time, he is already on his side when the thoughts come in.

He’d never felt that warm before, he thinks. It’s the kind of warmth that makes your hair stand in content and leaves you hazy, as if bewitched by a magic potion. It’s the kind of warmth that has Geralt stare at the bare back turned at him, moving in steady breaths, as if it’s the most precious of silks.   

He finds the reason. He finds it and grips it, cradles it as if he hasn’t found it a thousand times before.

The pillow smells of lavender. Lavender and wildflowers. The sheets too. The silk too. He sucks the scent, as though it’s the only way he’s going to keep breathing. Gulps it, lets it burn his nostrils, his lungs, even if it’s a bit strong, even if it Jaskier indulged himself for once with the soap, even if Geralt had held his breath in displeasure when he first smelled it.

Now he takes a deep breath. He thinks, quickly as if his own thoughts are chasing him, and raises his hand, and as he embraces Jaskier’s waist, oh so gently, he inhales the scent, buries his nose in soft hair, closes his eyes, and Jaskier stirs. And Geralt does not release the breath. He thinks, if lavender and wildflowers are the scent he takes to his grave, if Jaskier is the scent he takes to his grave, then so be it.

But Jaskier returns to quiet. And Geralt thinks for a moment, then gently tightens his embrace. And breathes out.

 

iii.

A bloody cloth is thrown on the floor, beside a bucket of blood red water. The last tears fall on the bed sheets.

 He’d been lucky, Geralt said. He could be dead now. Jaskier thought he heard his voice quivering for a moment. But probably it was his imagination. Don’t move now, he said.

He doesn’t even consider of moving his shoulder at this state and definitely not while Geralt is prickling his skin with a needle, the stitches reaching his left collarbone, leaving him weeping however grateful he didn’t lose a hand or worse. He’d have to avoid playing the lute for two weeks or so now.

The needle prickles once more and he takes a deep breath he doesn’t release. It’s the pain, obviously, stitches are not a lighthearted process. It’s not only that, although he struggles hard to refuse to acknowledge it. But it’s also Geralt’s fingers cradling his neck, holding him steady, tracing his skin, whispering words directed at him, like a lullaby not supposed to be heard.

Almost done. Don’t cry. We’re almost done.

Jaskier sniffs and feels his insides wailing from the lack of oxygen. From the way Geralt’s fingers curl for a moment on his neck, tremble, before cutting the thread and Geralt looks up, nods in affirmation. And slowly, almost unwillingly, stroking as if on silk, his fingers abandon feverish skin.

And Jaskier, his lashes dropping in exhaustion, exhales heavily.

 

iv.

Oh. That’s close. That’s too close.

Geralt swallows as Jaskier spreads over him on the chair like the tide splashing between rocks, his voice echoing in his ears like the fierce wind of the coast. Jaskier laughs, and nudges him, and sings, and drinks, and drinks. And he’s drunk.

Geralt could leave. He really could. He doesn’t even know why he had been sitting there all this time in the first place. If he thought about it, there’d been nothing keeping him on this damn table, surrounded by stinking drunkards and the smell of burnt sausages along with cheap ale. Because the ale is cheap and if someone tries to convince him otherwise, he will swear to the gods he doesn’t even believe.

So he doesn’t know why he’s still sitting.

Except for the warmth Jaskier’s eyes radiate as they fix on him, even now, even hazy and drunk. Except for the soft puffs of breath on his neck as Jaskier hides his face and laughs, and his lips touch exposed skin, and Geralt damns himself for taking off his armor. He dares close his eyes, just for a moment. Thinks of how soft these lips are, how he craves to feel them until the end of his days. He opens his eyes. He’s a fool.

He picks Jaskier up and stands, heading straight to the stairs. Ignores the bard’s wriggling in his arms and the slurred mutters that he supposes are something close to put me down, you absolute brute.  He enters the rooms, closes the door. All but throws Jaskier on the bed, steadying him before he falls forward.

Only that he does, and as he kneels to take of his boots, suddenly his lips are too close. Geralt’s breath hitches. Stops.

Geralt is a man of honour. And also desperate with feelings. Jaskier is not.

It’s nothing. A brush of lips. A taste of tongues. Cheap ale that Geralt now finds he’d willingly tone out the rest of his senses to taste once more. A soft moan, but it can’t be him, he’s not breathing. And then Jaskier’s head bumps limp on his shoulder, and he hears silent snoring.

He closes his eyes. And breathes shakily.

 

v.

We could head to the coast. Get away for a while.

Silence. Not even a hum. Not even a batter of lashes. Not even a look.

Jaskier waits. He waits as if he doesn’t know the only thing he’s going to hear is the voices of the dwarves in the distance and the howling of the wind whipping against the mountain slopes, against his heart. One more chance.

Life is short and silent. He never wanted his life to be silent. Filled it with unending songs, elaborate words, heartfelt verses that sounded as if the pounding of his heart echoed in each rhyme. A great name he loved to hear pouring from others’ lips. Yet the silent void walking beside him at all times was too silent to fill the last part of his heart, the one he dared not let splutter further than a few songs. And that void, oh it was unbearable now.

Composing your next song?

No, I’m just. Just trying to find out what pleases me. 

He stares. Takes a deep, torturous breath, as if the answer is the only thing his lungs depend on. And waits. That was it. The furthest point. And look where it’d gotten him.

Not even a hum. But it’s okay, Jaskier thinks. He needs time. Maybe he’ll think about it. Maybe he can hope. That’s what he thinks, and stands up. Decisions take time, he knows.

He could laugh at himself.

He does. Later, when Geralt enters another’s tent. When he has his answer.

He laughs. And releases the breath.

 

vi.

His grip is tight. He knows it’s tight because even he feels his fingers going numb after a while. Or it could be the lack of oxygen. He didn’t dare to guess.

He swims and kicks and even with one hand he manages to reach light, away from the waterfall, he manages to get his head out, grab a tree branch as if trying to hold the last string of life from breaking. He manages to pull himself out, his hand never releasing, and he pulls Jaskier along from under the water. He drags them out and, still holding on, he slumps on soft grass. Tries to catch his breath.

Only that the hand in his is limp. Has been all this time.

And suddenly, he forgets how to breathe.

“Jaskier.” He drags himself beside the bard lying motionless on the ground and nudges him hard. “Jaskier!”

His hand twitches but doesn’t release. He leans his head on Jaskier’s chest, searches for the sound of his heart. Hears none. Freezes. “Fuck.”

He kneels properly and if he’s feared death before, now it rose like a dark wave above him, ready to swallow him whole. He put his hands on the bard’s chest, pressed hard. Persistent. Then takes his head in his hands, cradles it like it’s fragile, opens his mouth and breathes in. Presses again. Then breathes. Even if he himself is out of breath.

His hands are trembling.

“No, no, no. Jaskier.” Presses and breathes.

Come back. Breathe. Not yet.

Jaskier is beautiful, he thinks, and his vision blurs as he breathes in once more, desperately, and it’s different, so different from that one time, now Jaskier tastes of water and bitterness, now he smells of death. Come back.  Please. Please.

Presses and breathes.

Please don’t get away without me.

 A wet gasp. Water runs down Jaskier’s lips and he opens his eyes wide, coughing and coughing and gasping as his body doubles in effort. And Geralt sobs.

Hands hover blindly on the air. “G-Geralt…” Geralt catches them, holds him and Jaskier raises his head, breathless in all his breathing and looks at him, touches him. Geralt leans into the touch. I’m here, feel me. “I’m here, Jaskier.” I’m here.

Jaskier feels rough, trembling hands cupping his face his neck, moving wet hair away from his eyes. Looks into amber eyes and Geralt could swear he goes a little limp in his arms. His heart is almost thumping out of his chest.

Geralt is a man of honour. Still. His lips brush on Jaskier’s and he hears a soft moan. So he kisses him. Deep and possessive and desperate and sweet, he kisses him until they’re out of breath, stealing the oxygen from each other’s lungs and laughing and clingling on each other is if it’s the last branch of life. And then they separate, inches apart. Sparkling blue eyes. Geralt smiles. “I love you.”

Jaskier shivers, closes his eyes. “Say it again.” Say it to fill the void.

“I love you, I love you, I love you.” Geralt trails his lips on cold skin, down Jaskier’s neck, smelling him in, thristily, touching, whispering, devouring. I love you, I love you, I love you.

And Jaskier laughs and cries and kisses back and gazes, oh so lovingly. “I love you too, Geralt. Too much.”

Geralt realizes then he doesn’t have to hold his breath anymore. And heaves a deep sigh.

[heyitslanesl]

3, 4, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 18, 33, 34: sandrone, ohm

3 - is your character more articulate in their thoughts than their words? if yes, do they do anything about that? do they care?

Interestingly enough, Sandrone's thoughts are a mess. Every where, they never stop, oppressive. But the way he speaks you wouldn't know this. Articulate, quiet, well spoken. He's tried to fix it, but can't.

4 - would your character sing along to a vaguely familiar song, even if they messed up the lyrics as they went?

Ehh, no. He doesn't sing if he can help it.

6 - do they usually sleep in a certain pose? does it change?

On his stomach, with the blankets tucked underneath his body like a little cocoon.

7 - how would they react to eating something that was spicier than they expected it to be?

Sandrone doesn't react lol, he just keeps eating it straight faced.

8 - are their hands steady?

He'd like to think so, but his right arm shakes sometimes because of the shoulder damage.

9 - if someone gave them flowers, what would they do with them?

Hands them off to Tartaglia, honestly..

10 - would they sneak out at night to look at the sky? how long would they stay there looking?

Sandrone does this often, actually. Being out late at night allows him to leave the mask at home sometimes and be somebody other than a Harbinger. He can stay out for hours.

11 - how do they feel about casual endearments? (babe, etc)

Don't.

18 - would they sing a lullaby, if the opportunity arose?

He wouldn't no. There are other things to do beyond sing.

33 - where are they in a group hug? (dead center, outside, etc)

Preferably not in it, but if he is, he's typically in the middle.

34 - what's the first thing they think when they hear an alarm? what's the first thing they do?

Find out what the alarm is for and adjust accordingly.

3 - is your character more articulate in their thoughts than their words? if yes, do they do anything about that? do they care?

Like younger brother like older brother. Ohm's thoughts are a minefield. But he speaks flowers when he wants to. It's fascinating, really. 4 - would your character sing along to a vaguely familiar song, even if they messed up the lyrics as they went? "Why not?" Especially if Kaeya is joining him. Those two can be embarrassing. 6 - do they usually sleep in a certain pose? does it change? On his side typically, doesn't matter which. He frequently has to pull his hair from underneath him though lol 7 - how would they react to eating something that was spicier than they expected it to be? Ohm loves spicy food so get rekt 8 - are their hands steady? Unnervingly so. 9 - if someone gave them flowers, what would they do with them? Puts them in a vase in his office! He loves flowers. 10 - would they sneak out at night to look at the sky? how long would they stay there looking? He doesn't need to sneak out, he just goes outside and lays on the grass beside the waterfall to look at the stars. 11 - how do they feel about casual endearments? (babe, etc) Doesn't like it, but has been subject to many. 18 - would they sing a lullaby, if the opportunity arose? He would yes! Ohm isn't the best singer, but even he can manage the classic; Weißt du wieviel Sternlein stehen? for the kids of Mond.

33 - where are they in a group hug? (dead center, outside, etc) Probably somewhere on the side, he was dragged in by somebody else. 34 - what's the first thing they think when they hear an alarm? what's the first thing they do? Probably the reason for the alarm.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Earth is Space Australia, “Blood of the Gods.”

Humanity humanity is a strange thing, 

She plays with the elements 

Holds hands with the stars

And is rocked to sleep by the fury of nature 

 - Preface from the “Human Enigma” By Dr. Krill 

Rain thundered down from above.

Rivulets of water as large as small waterfalls cascaded over the side of the room and onto the soft-sandy dirt below. The sky above was a deep cloudy grey shot through with veins of white sunshine managed to peek through the cloud cover. Dr Krill poked his head around the side of the door and out onto the porch.

Adam was sitting there in a T-shirt and shorts just on the front step not a few inches away from the cascading water. Little droplets of water had already beaded on his exposed skin.

“What are you doing out here?” Krill wondered stepping onto the porch and raising his voice just to be heard over the cascading water.

“I like watching the rain.” he motioned krill over with a hand, “Come, sit, watch with me.”

Krill was not so sure about all this. He didn’t see the appeal of water falling, but walked over anyway and floated on the step next to the human. Water still continued to pool in great puddles by the side of the house, and the air around them was unusually humid and hot.

The human tilted his head back and took a long deep breath, “Too bad you don’t have a sense of smell doctor.”

“Why?” He looked around, “Water doesn’t usually have a smell.”

“But RAIN does.” He took another deep breath, “Probably one of the best smells in the world…. It's comforting, refreshing, makes you feel like mother nature singing you to sleep with her most beautiful lullaby.”

“Waxing poetic this morning?’

“Days like this do that to me.”

“I thought you would hate the rain.”

The human turned his head to look at Krill frowning, almost as if he was offended by such a suggestion, “What would make you think that?”

“Can’t fly on a day like this.”

The human shook his head, “I COULD it would just be inadvisable. Besides flying and the rain like this are two different things. One is a release, and the other is just…. peaceful .”

Krill turned his head back to the cascading water and the darkening sky above. He supposed it made sense, the white noise mixed with the slight darkness would be enough to put a human to sleep. He had used some of the same principles in medical work to calm agitated humans 

“Some scientists think our love of the smell of rain is an evolutionary response to how important rain is for humans.”

That too made sense. Humans were more than half water.

Adam closed his eyes, “The word for the smell of water is petrichor from the greek roots Petri which means stone and ichor which means blood of the gods.”

“That is… surprisingly poetic.”

“I always thought so.”

The human sighed and lay back onto porch letting the warm water cascade over his bare feet. Krill watched quietly as the human napped peacefully on the wooden planks of the front porch simply listening to the rain.

After a while, the human opened an eye and looked over at him, “There is one other great thing about warm rain.”

Krill sighed and waited for whatever the human was about to do or say that was completely dumb. 

The human smiled at him, and as he waited the smile grew bigger and bigger until the human was grinning fit to burst.

“PUDDLES!” 

Arms raised knees churning, the human raced out into the rain becoming immediately drenched in the torrential downpour. Krill hurried to the edge of the porch in shock and concern and bewildered fascination as the human danced around in the thundering rain.

His clothes were already soaked, his hair was plastered to his head, and water dripped down from his chin in a cascade. 

He whooped with glee as he danced through the rain kicking up water with his feet from the large puddles that had accumulated in the yard. Some of the puddles were so deep they went up over his ankles, but the deeper the puddle the better as the human splaished and frolicked in the rain.

Dr. krill sat back and watched shaking his head as he watched the human playing out in the elements, seeming so happy and carefree as water poured from the sky. Mist rose up around him from the once hot pavement giving the air a sort of hazy quality.

He spun around in a wide circle amrs threw out to either side.

He paused and looked at Krill still standing under the protection of the roof. With one hand he waved him over. His T shirt and short were dark with water and sagged against his frame, sticking to his chest and legs, “Come on, its fun.”

Krill shook his head, “I think Observation is enough to sate my curiosity.”

“Oh come on Dr. Water wont kill you, and besides, there is no better way to learn than from experience.”

“I don’t think so.”

The human shook his head and trotted up the sidewalk. Krill tried to back away, but a hand passed through the torrent of water from the roof -- now spilling over the gutters-- and dragged him into the rain.

Krill was suddenly doused with a cascade of warm water that had him sputtering before he came out the other side.

Rain roared down from above spattering against his skin and rolling off his antenna.

It was surprisingly warm as it pooled around his feet.

The human tugged him along as he danced through the puddles sending waves of contaminated water up against krill’s chest.

The human tilted his head back, arms held out to either side allowing the rain to fall onto his exposed face.

Krill watched him for the longest time before finally tilting his head back allowing the rain to roll down over his face. Then, with some trepidation he held his arms out to either side.

The sensation was surprising. He suddenly felt as if he was falling upwards into the sky. Warm water trickled down his body and his mind stilled a bit as the rhythm of the rain took over. Rivulets of water ran from his hands and arms and off his legs onto the water beneath.

Beside him, the human was doing the same.

They were close to the porch now still looking up at the deafening sky.

Krill turned to look over at the human still playing in the puddles when he suddenly stopped and grew very still. Krill saw his eyes go wide as, around them, a sudden buzzing seemed to fill the air. It even began filtering in over his radio receptors.

The hairs on the human’s arms were standing up despite the rain.

Krill didn’t have time to react as suddenly the human launched forward tackling him back onto the porch, through a runnel of water. They hit the deck hard, rolling over the damp wood and onto the dry patch just beside the wall of the house. Krill yelped in surprise and pain ready to yell at the human for his strange behavior.

But the human had his ears covered and eyes shut.

Krill had no time to react as he was suddenly blinded by a horrific bolt of light so blinding it took up his entire vision, and then a massive repeating explosion that sent shockwaves through the air around them. The ground shook and sparks flew in every direction as the massive sound rubbled away into nothing leaving him dazed, blinded and reeling.

The human sat up from where he had landed on the deck.

“Hot damn! That was close.”

Krill turned his head to glower at the human as another distant bolt of lightning cut across the sky.

“What was that!”

“That my friend was a lightning strike.”

“A LIGHTNING STRIKE! A lightning strike! You mean to say you brought me out during an electrical storm! You wanted to play in the WATER during an ELECTRICAL STORM! I cannot believe you!”

“Hold on, now in my defence I didn’t KNOW it was an electrical storm.”

“Well you were WRONG and we almost DIED.”

“You were enjoying it before earth decided to be a bitch.”

Krill turned in an exasperated and panicked circle, “Is this something that you humans do a lot! Like intentionally go out into electrical storms and dance in the PUDDLES.”

The human shrugged, “Getting struck by lightning is a very rare occurrence, and I had no idea that one was coming to visit.”

“This planet with all of your unchecked electricity running rampant!”

“Well what do you want me to do, control the weather! Harness the elements, krill?”

Krill waved his hands over his head, “I am going inside. I should never have trusted your judgement about earth weather. Electrical storms! Honestly!” He turned around and marched inside, followed by the human a few moments later dripping wet and rolling his eyes just slightly.

Off in the distance, another crackle of lightning lit up the interior of the room sending a rumble through the ground. Krill toweled off while the human went to change his close.

The room darkneened, and suddenly there was another horrific flash of light and thunderous eruption. All the lights went out and krill squealed in shock hiding behind the couch as hail began pelting the windows now darkened.

Another crack of lightning sent stark white light to illuminate the front room before plunging them into blackness.

The hail grew heavier,

Krill curled up in the corner.

A light flicked on somewhere in the distance, and he looked up to find Adam walking down the hall spinning a little lever on a flashlight which grew brighter with every rotation of the elver.

“Pretty cool huh!”

“COOL IT JUST TOOK OUT THE POWER. WE ARE GOING TO DIE.” 

“Calm down and take a chill pill my four legged friend. IT does this all the time, probably just hit a transformer or something. The power will be back on soon.” He set the flashlight down on the table beside Krill and went scrounging around in a nearby drawer, “We will be safe just as long as we stay away from the pipes and outlets if we can.”

He withdrew a small box, reaching inside and striking a small wooden stick against the outside of the box. There was a sudden flare of fire the stick sparked to life. Krill leaped back as the human held the little fire stick between his fingers, reaching into the drawer and lighting a string protruding from a block of wax. He set the block on a dish and then out on the table.

The flame flickered and cast orange light around the room as he walked over to sit next to krill leaning his head back, “That was always one of my favorite sounds.’

“What?” Kril Asked still staring at the open flame the human had left unattended on the table 

“Thunder”

Krill glowered at him, “you like the sound of eminent destruction.”

He shrugged, “I don't know what to tell you. Its Calming.”

Kril was about to explode on the human about how NOT comforting the sound of thunder was when he raised a hand to silence him, “Well not when its right next to my head, but from a distance it is so…. remote , beautiful, and powerful. Lightning and thunder are the greatest unchecked power of nature, the bolts of which can burn hotter than the surface of the sun. He stood, walking over to a chair not far away and retrieving a blanket which he wrapped around himself before coming to sit back down, throwing his legs up on the couch as he leaned his head back to rest against a pillow.

He almost looked sleepy as the rain intensified.

Waffles walked over and jumped up to lay with him resting her head atop his chest with a soft grumble.

Krill stared at the both of them in near horror.

How was this ok?

Outside the window just before them, distant bolts of lightning cut purple and blue branches across the sky. In a way it reminded krill of human veins and arteries. As the candle flickered on the table, Krill’s mind was brought back to the word petrichor. Rock and the blood of the gods. In a surprisingly human turn of thought he mused at how the forks of lightning were like the veins of those gods that brought the rain leaving the human body a distant echo of something much greater.

He turned his head to the side, where the human now lay sleeping, wrapped like some kind of strange burrito with his head sticking out of one end and his feet sticking out the other.

Topped with a dog.

Krill sighed and rested in the darkness continuing to watch the storm as it passed overhead.

Beside him, the human hummed gently in his sleep once or twice.

Rocked to sleep by mother nature.

[quazartranslates]

Welcome to the Nightmare Game - CH83

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

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-----

Chapter 83: Castle Cry (X)

As a small expert in finding things, Dr. Lu found a key in a secret compartment of the desk drawer, which was probably the one needed to open the basement. So the three people hurried downstairs and went to the first floor. It was already 3:40 in the morning. They would return to the outer world in 20 minutes, and they had to solve the problem in 20 minutes, otherwise they would have to wait another hour. Who knew what would happen in the outer world?

Qi Leren and Dr. Lu talked about the task in low voices, and they had to be careful not to let Nan Lu hear about skills - he wasn’t sure how an NPC would react to this.

"Although Nina's words are full of flaws, let's listen to her, otherwise it's easy to have an accident." Dr. Lu seriously warned Qi Leren, who was eager to move. "Don't mess around, let’s kill the crazy lady so we can go home."

"Oh... My warning skill is cooling, and the cooling time is too long. I can't count on this skill. The S/L skill has cooled down, so I can fight with it," Qi Leren said.

"My lucky skill was activated at 1:30. After 90 minutes, it’s expired by now. The cooling time is three hours. That is to say, the next time I can use it is after six o'clock, I basically can't count on it ... Take care of yourself, as long as you climb out of the cellar alive, I will treat you and cure you." Dr. Lu's tone was filled with a faint sense of pity, and it seemed that Qi Leren was going to suffer misfortune.

"...What if you die inside?" Qi Leren asked sullenly.

"You little devil, don’t talk nonsense! Go fight the boss well! Don’t set up any Flags!" Dr. Lu slapped Qi Leren on the back of his head, giving full play to the majesty of a doctor.

"...Oh." Qi Leren responded stupidly, remembered something again, and quietly reminded Dr. Lu, "Be careful of Nan Lu."

Dr. Lu nodded his head.

The deepest part of the corridor was a large kitchen. There were cabinets everywhere in the area of more than 10 square meters. The ceiling directly above the generous prep counter was covered with various nameless kitchen utensils. There were also many pots and pans and some unpacked ingredients on the counter.

"Look at the corner, there’s a dark box on the ground," Dr. Lu warned.

Qi Leren inspected the kitchen along the wall. The ground was covered with a layer of ceramic tiles with a white background. They reflected his own figure vaguely under the light. He squatted down and knocked on the ground with his fingers. He didn't feel that any tiles were hollow. Where was the hidden compartment?

"I can't find it... I wish I had asked a little more clearly." Dr. Lu murmured, "Should we go ask Nina? Time is running out."

Qi Leren also stood up from the ground. After squatting for too long, his brain was short on blood. He was dizzy briefly, and the image in front of him was covered with a black shadow. He blinked hard and then suddenly froze.

The cupboard door in front him was made of glass, and the transparent glass reflected the image behind him - a well-dressed blonde woman was sitting on a wooden chair not far from Nan Lu, holding a baby in her arms. She lowered her head and looked at the baby in her arms gently, as if humming a gentle lullaby. And at her feet, the ground was covered with bloody remains, a head wearing a chef’s hat was cut into two pieces, and a maid holding kitchen utensils was beyond recognition... The blood rolled like it was boiling, while the woman holding the baby turned a blind eye to the bloody scene, and was strangely serene.

Qi Leren quickly turned his body, and the wooden chair against the wall behind him was empty.

Was it an illusion? Or…

"What's the matter?" Dr. Lu looked at Qi Leren striding toward the chair behind him and asked.

Qi Leren forgot to answer him. He dragged away the wooden chair and knocked on the tile under the chair with his finger. It was hollow.

"This is it." Qi Leren stuck his dagger into the gap between the ceramic tiles and pried it open. Several adjacent ceramic tiles were loose. After they were removed, there was a square iron grate below, like a cellar entrance.

"How did you find it?" Dr. Lu asked curiously.

"I saw her," Qi Leren whispered, staring at the slightly rusty iron grate underground, and the heavy iron lock that firmly locked it, together with all the evil inside.

"What did you see?" Nan Lu said sharply.

Qi Leren didn't answer. He said coldly, "Back up and I'll open the basement. If something is wrong later, you should get out of here..." He didn't expect Dr. Lu and Nan Lu to help, and the seed of slaughter in him might accidentally injure his teammates, so he would rather face the crazy lady alone.

The heavy iron lock was opened with the key, and Qi Leren’s heartbeat quickened. The cellar door to the basement was opened with a dull sound, revealing a vertical iron ladder and the deep darkness below. There was a stale smell in the darkness, as if it had been sealed for a long time.

Qi Leren's flashlight had already been lost in the outer world, so he had to use the light of his mobile phone below. The light spread down the iron ladder, illuminating the concrete floor, and there was nothing.

There must be danger down there, which Qi Leren could feel, but he still had to take the risk. After weighing it, he decided to suspend his use of the S/L skill until he found the danger. With his mouth biting his mobile phone, he continued to light the way, holding a dagger inlaid with holy runes in one hand and climbing the iron ladder in the other hand, ready to climb down to the basement.

His foot stepped on the rail of the iron ladder, which was very strong. Qi Leren felt like walking alone into the fog full of monsters, knowing that there was danger lurking in the darkness of the basement, but he forced himself to go on.

Most of his body had descended into the cellar, with only his shoulders above it. Qi Leren nodded to Dr. Lu, beckoning him to pay more attention to Nan Lu. Unfortunately, the tacit understanding between them was insufficient. Dr. Lu waved to him with mirth, and Qi Leren was tired and went to climb the ladder.

A cold wind blew up from bottom to top in the basement, and the lighting range of the mobile phone was narrow, only seeing his own shadow in the beam, surrounded by vast darkness. Climbing down, Qi Leren suddenly stepped on air, and the rung of the ladder was missing. He fell down, but fortunately, his hand gripped the ladder tightly, so he didn't fall far. This little accident made Qi Leren, who was originally in a calm mood, feel flustered, and there seemed to be a terrible monster lurking in the deep darkness at his feet.

Before he could calm his heartbeat, the foot that stepped on empty air in the dark was suddenly entangled in something, and the something that grabbed his ankle was surprisingly strong. It pulled him down from the ladder and he fell to the ground.

Once again, he fell dizzily, but this time it was much better than falling into the studio from the second floor. At least Qi Leren still had the strength to roll several times, holding up his awkward arm and clenching his dagger.

The mobile phone had fallen to the ground, illuminating a small area. In the dark, it seemed that there was a gentle singing, a faint candle lit up, then a second, more and more... Two rows of candlelight, lit up close to the wall, illuminated this dark and dead basement. At the end of the candlelight, there was a rocking chair with its back to him. The woman sitting in the rocking chair had long golden hair, which fell down like a waterfall.

She gently hummed a lullaby and sang softly in this cold basement.

Qi Leren's line of sight swept around, but he didn't see what had pulled him into the basement just now. It was so weird... He even thought of running away, but when he looked up, the open cellar door seemed to be pushed by an invisible hand, and was closed with a loud bang, and the light over his head disappeared, which also cut off his retreat.

With the cellar door closed, the rocking chair slowly turned, like being placed on a turntable, and slowly turned around. The blonde woman in the rocking chair was humming softly with her eyes closed and her baby in her arms.

The rocking chair stopped, facing him, and the crazy lady in the chair slowly opened her eyes - her left eye was exactly the same as the portrait, but her right eye had been gouged out, leaving only a bleeding hole, with blood seeping from her eye to her neck.

This rare and ominous scene made Qi Leren dare not spit out a sigh of relief. He was still, and his muscles were tight to the point of stiffness.

"Are you here to get back at me?" The lullaby stopped, and the crazy lady asked softly.

"..." Revenge? Who wants revenge? Qi Leren's brain was blank.

"You have taken away my child, what else do you want to take away? His love?" The mad lady's voice became cold. She looked ahead with empty eyes. She said in a self-deprecating way, "I hate you... Hate you... Envy you... Go back to the grave and keep company with dirty maggots. That's where you belong. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha..."

Her crazy laughter grew crazier and crazier, piercing his eardrums.

She stood up and gently put the baby in her arms on the rocking chair. In the flickering candlelight, the intact half of her face was like the Virgin of Vladimir, but when she was walking towards Qi Leren, the blood and tears flowing from her bloody right eye made her look like the evil spirit from a horror movie.

Two rows of lit candles shook, casting criss-crossing shadows on the ground, shaking, trembling…

There was something creepy, climbing slowly from his feet, stroking his ankles and knees, and climbing inch by inch. Qi Leren slashed the dagger in his hand at the invisible things, and the dagger waved a sharp wind in the air, but it didn't touch anything. What were these things? What on earth was it?

The crazy lady walked towards him with a strange smile on her face. She walked slowly, but every step was like a stuck video tape, jumping forward frame by frame. This was definitely not what human beings should look like! Candlelight in all directions made her shadow tremble and distort, projecting a strange chaos on the ground.

At this moment, Qi Leren suddenly realized something.

He lowered his head and looked at the shadows climbing his trouser legs, which had no form and no quality, yet still existed…

It was the shadows.

-----

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[britonell]

For @inukag-week​ 2020!

A short and sweet follow-up to Hermit’s Haven, and this time Inuyasha encounters a different kind of visitor...

Rated T for Inuyasha’s swearing.

Hermit’s Dilemma

Inuyasha stared at the cub, trying to ignore the distinct sense of déjà vu.

The Ezo brown bears were pretty common around these parts, at least enough to be a minor nuisance during deer hunting season, but they were almost always adult males. The only time he had come this close to a cub was when he had followed the village fishermen to the waterfalls and a female and her cubs had joined their group, apparently using the men’s presence to shake off a hostile male bear. This time there was no mama bear, just a lone cub.

Said bear cub sat on his furry little haunches, peering up at the dog-eared man.

Wasn’t this the same place where he first spotted Hachi?

More importantly, what the hell was a bear cub doing all on his own, and so damn close to his house? Shouldn’t this scrawny little guy be in a cozy den with his mother, dozing off until spring? 

Inuyasha looked around once more, ears flicking back. Nope, no other bears nearby. Perhaps the mother had gone out to scavenge for acorns one last time and had been struck by a vehicle, or wandered into some other residential area and met the business end of a rifle.

Well fuck-a-doodle-doo.

That was how Inuyasha found himself crossing the icy bridge with a bear cub in his arms, making his way to—

Wait a minute, there’s no way the dogs would stay calm if he showed up with a squirming bear cub. Maybe he could hand him off to Miroku, that guy probably knew more about bears. Crap, was it even legal to bring a bear cub indoors? His residence was technically a shelter, would his non-profit get in trouble? It’s not like he was going to keep the cub. He should head to the agricultural school ASAP, there had to be staff members with experience in handling wild animals.

He froze mid-step and the curious cub glanced up at him.

Shit, shit, shit, he couldn’t go to the school now, Kagome was picking up her mother and grandfather from the airport and she had made him promise, multiple times, that he would be in the village to greet them when they arrived.

He would stay put, he had assured her. He knew how important this was for her, considering she hadn’t gone back to Tokyo for Christmas. He wasn’t gonna disappear like a coward. Not like he cared if city folks visited his village. It’s not like they were the same people that drove him and his mother out of their old apartment. It wasn’t a problem.

Really.

The bear cub let loose a shrill squeal and Inuyasha nearly flung the cub up into the air before stopping himself. Instead, he held the cub in front of him like a ticking bomb.

Did he need milk? Could bears drink cow milk? Maybe he was cold. Did he need to put him in his jacket? Maybe the cub was scared. Should he swaddle him? Kagome did say he had a knack for swaddling the dogs. The chihuahuas usually liked it. And once the bear quieted down he could hide him in a spare room until morning. Right, this would work. Absolutely. Totally.

Mind made up, he went up to Miroku’s house and slid the kitchen window open.

“Yo, keep an eye on the dogs, will ya?” Inuyasha shouted, making sure to keep the bear out of sight. If what he was doing was against the law, he wasn’t going to drag anyone else into legal trouble.

Miroku poked his head into the hallway. “Gotcha! And for goodness’s sake, use the front door.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Inuyasha grumbled. They both knew that wasn’t going to happen. Miroku could just as easily install a lock on the old window, but Inuyasha had a feeling he never would. Miroku had been insistent on not altering the original design of the house.

That was...nice.

“Hi Inuyasha!” Sango called from somewhere down the hall. “We made yakidango earlier. Do you want some?”

“Uh...maybe later. Thanks.” Inuyasha gingerly closed the window and stepped back.

Yeah. That was nice too. The elderly villagers used to offer him food. They were being neighborly, or so they claimed.

Not that Sango was a neighbor. Yet. He knew she was looking at a couple of houses. That fox demon from the agricultural school, Shippo, was probably going to move in soon.

The bear squealed again, prompting Inuyasha to quicken his pace.

Kagome’s front door was unlocked, as usual. He had told her to start locking the door but no one here really worried about security, what with him and all the dogs running around. She had at least promised to lock the door...after making a key for him.

Fuck, he was not blushing at the thought.

He stomped into the living room and rummaged through her dresser until he pulled out a fluffy pink blanket.

Wrap the blanket around like this, tuck the paws in here, rub his head like so, pat his tummy to soothe him, and voila. Inuyasha examined his handiwork with a satisfied grin, which wilted a little at the realization that he was too adept at this.

The bear peeked up over the edge of the blanket and eyed him, as if waiting for something. Inuyasha hoped he wasn’t expecting a lullaby. Then again, Kagome did say music can calm down dogs in stressful situations.

He reached for Kagome’s iPad and scrolled for a while. Hmm, this would do.

Kuma Sanbiki

He sat down cross-legged on the floor and held the bear burrito close to his chest, mumbling the same lyrics that he used to sing with his mother.

Kuma sanbiki issho ni sunde,

Papa kuma, mama kuma, akachan kuma—

“Eep!”

Inuyasha froze and slowly looked up. Kagome was doubled over, shoulders trembling, hands covering her face. He would’ve thought she was in pain if he didn’t catch a delighted giggle. A woman who was clearly her mother stood by the entrance, one hand resting on a suitcase and the other over her heart, watching the bundle in his arms with dewy eyes.

“What’s all this then?” An elderly man walked in, kicking his shoes off in a huff. “Don’t just stand there, we need to—young man, you’re holding the baby wrong.”

Inuyasha could do nothing but sit still and watch the elderly man saunter up to him.

“Now see here, if you want to calm a young one—that’s a bear.”

“What?” the woman, henceforth known as Mama Higurashi in his head, said.

“A bear?” Kagome chortled, her face still red.

Busted.

“Err…” Three sets of eyes were on him. “I found a bear cub,” he finally confessed.

Word got out pretty quickly, mainly because Kagome ran out to get Miroku’s expensive camera equipment “for that money shot,” and both Miroku and Sango came over to greet the guests as well as take a look at the bear cub.

“I can’t believe you swaddled a bear!” Kagome giggled, hours after the fact.

“Bear cub,” Inuyasha corrected, his forehead firmly planted on his kotatsu. It had been decided that Sango would watch the cub for the night and bring the bear to the school in the morning, because apparently the school’s resident bear expert was her uncle.

Stupid, Inuyasha thought. Stupid, stupid, stupid, he should’ve just brought the cub to Sango in the first place. Stupid.

“I can’t wait to get those pictures on my laptop.”

He lifted his head to glare at her. “So you can laugh at me some more?”

“I wasn’t laughing at you!”

“Uh-huh.”

She scooted over to snuggle up to him, ignoring his sputtering protests and unflattering comparisons to Pen-Pen. “I was losing it because it was too adorable for my little ol’ heart. You’re gonna make a girl faint with your paternal instincts.”

He tried really, really hard not to let her words, or the way she was twirling his forelock, affect him. “Yeah, sure. OK.”

“But you know,” she said with a coy smile. “I do have a confession.”

Inuyasha glanced at her suspiciously.

“I would’ve preferred seeing you holding a baby. My baby.”

He didn’t remember much after that because his brain short-circuited and he went on autopilot.

(Kagome inwardly cursed. Asking Miroku on how to confess like a wrecking ball had not been one of her best ideas.)

The bombshells didn’t end there, though. The next morning, after joining the Higurashi family for breakfast, he was helping Mama Higurashi wash the dishes when she nonchalantly proved just how much her daughter took after her.

“You should’ve joined us for dinner last night. Grandpa and I had a question and Kagome had no idea what the answer was.”

“Oh,” was Inuyasha’s reply.

“I’m sure it’s something my daughter has been wondering about for a while.”

“Ah.” Not freaking out, Inuyasha mentally repeated over and over again. 

“And, I must admit, I would like to know as well. This is a good time to ask, don’t you think? No need to be modest when you answer.”

“Umm…” Sirens blared in his head.

“Which do you prefer,” she said airily, “small weddings or big weddings?”

~*~

AN: The Higurashi women sure love to drop bombshells. Inuyasha’s soul temporarily left the mortal plane of existence. He’ll be fine.

For the children’s song I had to decide between what Inuyasha ultimately chose or this one: Mori no Kuma-san. I’m more familiar with the latter but I figured the song about the bear family was more appropriate for the situation.

Also, Inuyasha waiting for Kagome is essentially the Patrick waiting for SpongeBob scene. Oh Inuyasha, you poor, hopeless puppy.

[curly-bangtan]

Heatwave Drabble #1: That Night in Mykonos

[Heatwave // Godless] [Drabble Masterlist]

Pairing: Taehyung x reader

Summary: That one not-so-forgotten filthy drunken night in Mykonos that you and Taehyung never speak about again. For good reason.

Genre: drabble, smut

Warnings: unprotected sex (don’t do it), beach sex, oral (m/f), taehyung’s tongue technology, dom!Tae, daddy kink, exhibitionism kink, facial (lol oop), cumplay, spanking, degradation if you count slapping your face with his dick, may make you fall in love with this couple even more soz

Word count: 6k (why am i incapable of making even a drabble short and quick?)

A/N: As per highly requested… :) If you’ve randomly stumbled upon this, definitely read Heatwave first to understand the plot.

.

The gentle washing of the waves sings a lullaby to your ears. You have always loved the sound of the ocean, so serene, yet holding so much power. Wiggling your toes, you watch the minute grains of sand trickle off your feet like a waterfall. Nonchalant, you take a swig of cider, its fruity acidity burning a bittersweet trail down your throat.

‘Man, I fucking love Mykonos.’ Taehyung slurs beside you, tipsy from his fourth bottle of beer he’s clutching like a trophy.

‘Thank you again for bringing me here, Taehyung.’

The two of you are sat on a towel by the beach, watching the moon paint its own reflection in the water. Sky crystal clear, as it is every single night here in Greece, the constellations hanging over your heads set a tranquil tone to the last evening of your trip.

‘Hey, what did I say? Stop thanking me. Now you have to finish your drink.’ Playfully, he flicks the tip of your nose in reprimand.

Grinning, you roll your eyes but follow his stupid rule. Not that you can’t hold your liquor, but this is your seventh drink, and you’re starting to feel it pulsating up to your head.

‘No, but you were right.’ Words tumble out of his pretty lips that you can’t help but admire. ‘It was a good call not to go out tonight. If we actually went hard at VOID, our flight tomorrow would be hell.’ He is referring to the club you have been religiously visiting almost every night this week. ‘This is much better. Nice and chill.’

With a mighty sigh, he falls onto his back, head hitting the edge of the towel, narrowly missing sand invasion in his hair. Rolling your empty bottle away, you join beside him.

‘This has to be the weirdest but also best holiday of my life.’ You ruminate. The stars are shining particularly bright tonight, you wonder if they know it’s your last night here and want to bid farewell.

The chesty chuckle Taehyung lets out reverberates into you. ‘Definitely the weirdest.’ He turns his head to face you. ‘I can’t believe I’m in Mykonos with this random chick I met in the club, who offered to rent me her place, so I guess she’s now my roommate, when this whole trip was planned to be a surprise for my girlfriend who had been cheating on me for months.’

Taehyung is especially chatty and vivacious when drunk, you’ve noticed from the past few days. Normally he’s laid back, spaced out even. But give him some booze, and all his emotions and thoughts cartwheel out of him. Though you’re only beginning to know him, he’s immensely interesting, you can tell he holds so many layers to him that requires inquisition over time.

‘Wow, random chick from the club? Bitch, you ripped out my hair.’ You laugh and smack at his chest, hand lingering for a little too long.

Wait, chest smack? Why are you using your classic move on him?

You’re a flirt, you can’t help it. The cider’s doing its thing, you guess.

‘Man, I’m so sorry about that, you have no idea how awful I felt.’ He inches closer to you until his head is rested upon your shoulder. Right, he’s also especially touchy when drunk. Anyone who walks past right now could mistaken you as close friends, when in reality, you’ve known each other no more than a month.

To be completely fair, you have spent everyday of this said month together since that club night, helping him move in and unpack, and now travelling together. You guess you’re kind of friends now.

‘These past few weeks have been so crazy. I was just trying to have a good night out when a wild Kim Taehyung appeared and somersaulted into my life. And now we’re lying by the Mediterrenean sea together, tanned and drunk.’ His hair is tickling your neck so you push it away. Your fingers brush against his forehead and he hums at the contact.

‘But hey, on a serious note, hand on heart,’ Taehyung gazes up at you, ‘I’m so glad I got to do this with you. You are one of the coolest people I know, and I wouldn’t have wanted to come here with anyone else. Not like I have anyone else right now… My ex can go fuck herself, or fuck Jimin. I have a bigger dick anyway.’

You sit up, choking on your laughter. Out of the blue, he’ll always hit you with these one-liners that are absolutely pure gold. ‘Okay, Mr. I’ve-Fucked-Nine-Girls-This-Week.’

Pride beaming from his smile, he tugs you back down beside him. ‘Hey, I was in a relationship for three years, I need this. Miss I-Had-A-Threesome-With-Two-Guys-On-Our-First-Night.’

The two of you splutter your drunken giggles. The two guys were Italian, come on, how could you have passed up on the opportunity?

Despite the time of evening, the breezes that gust pass are humid. The temperature is perfect, actually, no sun blazing down to melt you into puddles. You’re probably too drunk to appreciate this moment but one day you’ll look back at this night cherishingly, you hope.

‘You’re right. I’m glad I came with you, Taehyung.’ It’s your turn to look at him. ‘I’ll get such an earful from Lotta when I get back but it’s all worth it. I can’t believe we got away with half of the things that we did!’

‘I know right?’ His arm feels particularly warm against you. It may be the alcohol working its magic but his voice sounds so deep and mellow tonight, like dark chocolate dissolving in your mouth. ‘The way they upgraded our room to a premium when we pretended to be a couple on our honeymoon.’

The memory is fuzzy but fond in your inebriated mind. ‘You’re welcome. I’m a master bullshitter.’

‘We even got that couple’s spa treatment and free wine and dine night.’

To be completely honest, it wasn’t difficult pretending to be loved up newly-weds. A lot of that affection you were displaying towards Taehyung wasn’t fake; he’s this perfect specimen of a man, gorgeous face, toned body, captivating personality, quirky humour - anyone’s dream boyfriend, really. You’ve tried to tone your attraction to him down, you can’t be lusting over your new roommate after all. Things would get too messy. But it was just for fun anyway, there’s no harm in a few pretend embraces and neck kisses to get those couple’s perks.

You’re just friends.

Though a part of you envies the nine girls he’s slept with this holiday, because you’ve seen the outline of his bulge in his swim trunks and Holy Shit… But as much as you like to fuck around, there’s a clear line that separates roommates and guys you bang. Those are two mutually exclusive groups of people in your life, the Venn Diagram does not intersect.

‘Hey, you wanna go for one last swim?’ You’re pulled from your thoughts by Taehyung’s suggestion.

It’s a bad idea, swimming this late at night, having downed a few bottles. But when has your inner conscience ever stopped you from doing what you want?

‘’Course.’ He is already removing his shirt as he stands, and you can all but ogle at the muscle of his moonlit back as you reply.

Following his action, you turn away from him and peel off your shorts that have stuck to your skin from sitting for so long. Are you perhaps trying to tempt him with the view of your bent over ass? Hmm, possibly… He does pay an awful lot of attention to your rear every time you wear these shorts... Carelessly flinging your top onto the rest of your things, you spy him staring at you in your periphery, hands stuffed into his shorts pockets. You adjust the pad of your bikini top, perhaps more dramatic than you needed to.

A smirk plays at your mouth. Why are you trying to get his attention?

Feet sinking into the soft sand, you pad after him towards the calm beckoning water. Your head is feeling hazy from the ciders, and when you spot the lazy smile he’s wearing, you know it’s hitting him too. Gazing up at the moon, you realise you feel blue. Not blue in a sad melancholic sense. But blue as in cool, relaxed, heart-at-peace blue; you’re going for one last night swim in the most beautiful country with your handsome new roommate, blue. A hint of romantic lyricism. Maybe.

‘I’m really gonna mis- Taehyung!’ You screech into the quiet night when he all of a sudden picks you up and carries you bridal-style into the sea.

And tosses you into the water.

Arms flailing midair, you’re catapulted into the waves like a pebble. The cold hits your curled spine first, harsh and shocking. Then it detonates within you, a volcano of ice numbing all your senses and aching your bones.

When you find your bearings and gasp up for air, you see him, ocean up to his knees, head whipped back in laughter, clutching his tensing core, eyes pinched into crescents as the most warming sound leaves his mouth.

‘You piece of shit!’ You lunge for him, but your limbs feel heavy in the water, restricting the power of your attack that he dodges so effortlessly.

But you don’t give up so easily. Tide washing you towards him, you launch yourself again, saltine droplets splattering all over his face. Resigning, Taehyung lets you drag him by the hand away from the shore, waddling clumsily against the stubborn current that’s determined to push you back to the beach.

‘Dick and balls, it’s freezing.’ He heaves.

‘Wuss. You’re not the one who got dunked.’ The chill is licking at your skin, seeping into your hair that splays out in floating silk tendrils. You’ve stopped walking on the sand now, instead spreading onto your front and allowing your swimming arms and paddling legs to move you.

Water up to his chest, you see the goosebumps rise on his blue-bronze unsullied skin, star-freckled sea reflecting wavering diamond silhouettes onto his chiseled front. Following the defined protrusion of his salient collarbones, then the sleek inward curve of his neck, your gaze arrives at his face. His strong brow never fails to strike you; tongue loitering out between his folded lips; brown tufts of salt-kissed, breeze-licked hair a mess but a masterpiece still. Eyes painted with a warm summer glimmer, sapphire and still, he observes you from where he stands.

The fluttering in your heart is now indistinguishable from your shivering due to the wet cold.

‘Come on, let’s swim out a bit further.’ He nods to the open ocean, refusing to spare you from his pinning stare.

Body heavy from the alcohol, the cold and simply your lethargism, you dive below the surface. With your water-blurred vision, you swim after his slow walking legs, bubbles you release tickling your face. You grapple onto his ankle, hear his muffled yelp and stifle a mischievous giggle.

Launching off the sand bed, you lurch up to the surface, inhaling sharply at your first breath of air. You push your hair back to see Taehyung regard you with a mystical expression.

‘It’s too deep here,’ you whine, ‘I can’t touch the floor.’ Not particularly athletic, treading water in order to stay afloat is wearing you down.

‘Hold on to me then, midget.’ He chuckles and holds out his hand which you quickly grab onto. With the stability he provides, you pull yourself up his arm like a buoy line and perch your elbow on his shoulder.

Which draws you unexpectedly close to his face. Nose mere inches from his chin. You smell his familiar honey musk.

Unfazed by your proximity, his arm circles behind you before landing one your waist, the warmth of his touch blooming like flowers on your skin. Why does his hand feel so nice on you? Why can’t you stop staring at him?

‘Better?’ Vibrations of his throat hum into your core.

‘Thanks.’ Your poise on his shoulder is sliding so you snake your arm around his neck, hoisting your body up against his. The contact snaps a cord inside you, sensation of him tingling everywhere you touch.

‘You’re such a little princess.’ He rolls his eyes theatrically in feign mockery, but his smirk betrays his mirth.

‘Shut up, you love it.’ This playful banter weighs heavy in your chest, constricting it, winding it. Because if it were anybody else, it would be flirting... Or maybe you are flirting with him right now. You’re not sure anymore.

A droplet of water is trickling along the edge of his jaw, your focus is transfixed at its smooth descent to his chin. Your bodies are bobbing with the calm waves, up, down, up, down. Then your eyes lock and-

Fuck.

You want him.

You really fucking want him.

Right now.

Right here.

Taehyung’s glare sears a mark in you, and it’s burning like the flames of hell all the way down to your sex. With the side of his finger, he doesn’t need to so much as touch you to tip your head up his way because that’s how willing you are. One tilt, that’s all it takes to kiss him right now. His fingers are sinking into your tender waist, and immediately you wonder how they must feel inside you.

‘I do love it.’ He slides his cheek against yours and traces the bridge of your nose with the tip of his.

And then.

You taste the sea on his lips, salt and cold. It feels like diving into the ocean, plunging into the deep blue and simply allowing your body to be swept away. His kiss is greedy, hungry, willing you to submit to him and follow his lead. And in your intoxicated state, you do so.

Legs wrapping around his torso in the water, his hands caress up your thighs to your ass, digging into your plump flesh with an ardour that releases a damp arousal from your slit. Your own fingers grope down his chest and toy with his hair, scratching and tugging. When he nibbles on your bottom lip and you know that you’re done for. You melt like putty in his control, meeting his tongue with a soft obedience you don’t normally exert.

‘Taehyung.’ You gasp into his mouth.

‘I’m all yours tonight, baby.’ is all he says before diving back into you. Those words sends the possessive animal in your mind wild with satisfaction. Because yes, he better fucking be all yours tonight.

Kissing Taehyung feels different. Perhaps it’s because of the build up of tension you have been harbouring these past few days. Or maybe it’s the thrill of knowing that you shouldn’t be doing this, the thrill of doing the forbidden. Or rather, it’s the way he wields his dominance over you so ferally and fervently, like he’s been waiting for as long as you have to do this.

Kissing Taehyung is teeth and tongue.

Kissing Taehyung is salt and the midnight breeze.

Kissing Taehyung is blue. The kind of blue you see only in the hottest of flames.

When you feel his stiff length poke underneath you, your cunt is set ablaze with desire. Desire to sink down onto him this instant and have him pound into you amidst the ocean until you both feel faint. Desire for him to break you in half with all his might, make your eyes water with from the pleasure he stabs into you.

Slowly he begins to walk you back to the shore, gripping your legs around his waist as you lock your arms around his neck. Lips never leaving each other longer than a second to breathe.

His ravenous mouth travels down to your breasts, and he doesn’t hesitate to devour them from your bathing suit, suckling angry red marks down your cleavage and around your nipples. Though clothed, the prominence of his cock burrows between your wide open entrance, rubbing against your bikini-clad clit and making you thrust your hips further into him.

Feverish from his touch, you don’t realise you’re on land until he gently falls onto his knees and carefully places you on the towels below him. Too drunk to even care if anyone else is on the beach, not that there was before you got in the water, you pull him by the neck onto you.

As he kisses a torching trail down your wet body, your mind is somewhere else, in a heaven that worships Taehyung. Hands kneading your exposed breasts, the wisp of his breath tingles down your navel, tying a knot in your core. With his teeth, he obscenely tugs loose the string that ties your bikini bottom together. The fabric falls loose lifelessly, revealing your soaking cunt, shimmering with want for him.

‘So wet.’ He muses as he kisses your pelvic bone, finger stroking up your slick to gather the liquid of your arousal. Then he prods his finger into your mouth, your tongue compliantly lapping up your own taste, salty from the sea. ‘Who made you this wet?’

‘You.’ You’re practically pleading as he sucks viciously at your inner thigh, so close to your weeping pussy.

‘I want you to call me daddy.’

You stiffen under him. Daddy. He wants you to call him daddy. Oh, but of course Taehyung has a daddy kink. It’s so ridiculously characteristic now that he has revealed it, that if you aren’t drunk, you would be rolling your eyes and laughing.

‘Fine, daddy.’ There’s an undertone of travesty to your reply. Whether he notices, he doesn’t show as he kisses closer and closer to your slit.

At the first contact of his lips to your clit, your hips buckle upwards and fingers fly to entangle his hair. Sucking harshly on your sensitive bud, all you’re capable of is squirming and writhing underneath him like a possessed body. The sensation of his mouth sucking on your succulence sends a shot of ecstasy down your quaking legs. Your head feels dizzy.

‘Fuck!’ You whine.

‘You like that, baby?’ When he looks up at you, wet smirk on his lips breathing hot air into your cunt, a coil winds in your stomach.

‘Yes, daddy.’ Your grip on his hair tightens.

Then he’s gorging you like a feast, tongue fluttering on your swollen bundle of nerves, your kryptonite, teeth scraping along your folds seductively. After several licks of your entrance, he pushes not one, but two digits into your cunt. They ease in, lubricated by your moist walls that welcome the pressure of his intrusion into you like the open sea. He draws wide circles inside you, and it feels like your innards are being stirred to perfection by a metal rod. In the meantime, his assault on your clit does not falter, rhythmically hitting his tongue against you, allowing the vibrations of his humming to penetrate your core.

Looking down, this is simply the most beautiful sight you’ve ever witnessed. Taehyung, eyes glimpsing up at you hungrily, face buried nose-deep in your pussy, hands gripping under your thighs that are rested on his shoulders, all the while the moon shines its ethereal glow onto you and the iridescent ocean in the background plays a symphony harmonious to your moans and his filthy slurps.

Suddenly, an explosion of pleasure arrives at your clit. ‘Oh, fuck yes!’ You screech, throat raw from the pure elation that washes over you. The throbbing in your cunt releases at his continuous friction, pulsating so wildly you think you will burst. His fingers pump out your high as he sucks one last time, long and hard, on your beating clit. ‘Ah… Oh my god… Taehyung…’

Finally he emerges from between your legs to breathe. You watch as your fluid dribble down his chin lewdly, your thumb swipes to catch the wetness.

‘How was that?’ Untangling his arms from your legs, he walks up on his elbows to meet your lips in a tender kiss.

‘Mind-blowing.’ You utter against his mouth, eyes rolling to the back of your head for dramatic effect. ‘Let’s continue back in our room.’ Quickly you do up your bikini, impatient for more.

Without needing another word, Taehyung sweeps you into his arms, gathers all your belongings and hastily carries you back to your hotel located just a minute away from the beach. Although, it takes much longer than a minute for you to arrive seeing as multiple detours are made along the way, fondling behind a tree, kissing in the elevator and missing your floor.

And when you’re finally in the confines of your room, he pins you to the closed door, not even bothering to switch on the lights, lips latched onto your magnetising neck. Your wrists trapped in his grip against the hard wood, you ache to touch him as his teeth find your earlobe. Nipping at your soft round flesh, a pleasant shock is sent down your spine at the twinge of pain.

‘Daddy…’ You sigh.

He pulls away to stare into your beseeching eyes. ‘What do you want daddy to do to you?’ His voice is a low grumble of dominance, digging its talons into your brain.

‘I want… I want you to fuck me until I cry.’ In the dark of the room, your attention flickers to the moonlit terrace outside. ‘Right on that balcony over there.’

Something in his obsidian eyes ignite at your suggestion. Zealous with lust, he brings you through the glass door that opens to the fresh night. ‘You want me to fuck you right here, baby? For everyone to see?’

Danger lurking one kiss away, you sense the precarious position his sanity is at. So you reach down and grab his hard member over his shorts, and tip his mind to a carnal frenzy.

‘Yes please, daddy.’ The name is the last straw for him. His breath hitches as you tug down his pants and allow his enormous cock to spring free.

Spinning you around roughly, he bends you over onto the rail of the balcony and strips off your swimsuit in one deft gesture. From here, you have an unobstructed view of the coast, lined by bustling bars and closing restaurants. The neighbouring terraces are a metre away, if anyone walks out now, they would horrifically witness Taehyung’s gargantuan length about to drill into you from behind.

Your heart is pounding in excitement of the risk as well as the anticipation of his cock. Not being able to see him, he can thrust into you any moment now, he must be revelling in such control he holds.

Then you feel it, his large round tip pressing against your entrance curiously. Your legs shake expectantly while fresh arousal leaks out of you, mixing with his precum he’s pressing into you. ‘Beg one more time for me.’

Taehyung and his motherfucking ego.

‘Please, daddy.’ Allowing the words to drag out on your tongue, you twist your neck to look at him with wide pleading eyes. He looks like a king, towering over you with this much assertion, relishing in the power he holds above you in this very moment.

‘Good girl.’

Hands holding your hips in place, he slams his tremendous member into your gaping cunt in one forceful plunge. You can’t help but cry out at the sheer stretch of your walls he’s spanning. Holy fuck, he’s so big he makes it feels like your first time.

All you feel at first is an incredible cinching of your core, the ache of him impaling his rigid shaft through the resisting pressure of your vagina. God, is he fucking massive. He seems to know it as well because he gives you a second to adjust to his size, palm scaling smoothly up the hill of your back to gather your hair in his hand like a rein. Then he is pummelling into you, hips slapping against your bottom, ringing such vulgar sounds in your ears. His cock, hard as if carved from marble, piercing through the pain and moulding a thing of sweet sweet pleasure inside you. You grip the rail so tight its edge gouges marks into your skin, your head hung low between your tense arms.

‘Fu-u-u-uckk-k-k-’ He fucks those syllables out of you one by one. At this angle, his cock is curving up the wrong way into you, jabbing at pockets that normally aren’t reached.

A part of your soul is no longer with you, propelled elsewhere by his ceaseless merciless attack on your cunt. Then comes the sting of his palm when he spanks a searing hot mark into your ass cheek. The sharp pain is refreshing alongside the dull ache behind the euphoric throb he is penetrating into you.

‘This fucking ass of yours, baby. Been driving me nuts in those shorts all week.’ Another slap echoes in your ears, and you welcome it by curving your back more to tip your tush higher for him.

‘Daddy, you fuck me so good.’ Playing along with this narrative he’s into, you egg him on further, stroking his ego as your walls are stroking his dick. Because, damn, he is fucking you so good. Pounding into you with such vigour and violence that your folds are beginning to sting.

You’ve reached a point now where you’re no longer intoxicated by alcohol, but more the addictive fumes of him.

Moans that fall from his lips tingle at your clit, which you start to play with to add to your stimulation. Another smack on your ass, this time so surprising that you scream out. ‘Yes, be loud for me. Let everyone hear how good I make you feel.’ He coaxes.

Taehyung begins to slow, which you know is a sign that he’s close but doesn’t want to blow his load yet. He bends over you, your hair still tied around his wrist, and nips at the shell of your ear. You’ve never known your ear to be such an erogenous zone, for when his tongue flickers at your inner shell, a shudder convulses through you. Leaving slobbery kisses down the curve of your shoulder, he slowly pulls out of you.

‘Finish on the bed?’ As Taehyung embraces you from behind, his strong arm comes under your cold lonely breasts that perk up at his attention, his dripping wet cock sitting between your red ass cheeks. The hum of his deep rasp on your neck sends your head lolling back onto his sweat-dotted chest.

‘Sure.’ What leaves you is a mere huff, you can’t even conjure your voice.

His lips seal yours as he walks you back into the room, leaving the glass door open for the night breeze to grace you. Amidst the savage sex, you treasure such a soft, delicate moment on your tongue, delighting in the way the tips of his fingers trace up your side. When his hand slithers up to your face, you melt into the warm flesh of his palm, mouth opening up for him to unfurl into.

Then the back of your knees hit the bed, and you know it’s about to begin again. Without breaking the union of your lips, you clamber onto the sheets with his frame hovering over you. Grappling on his neck, you drag Taehyung atop you as your head sinks down onto the plush of the pillow.

He sucks on your plump bottom lip one last time before pulling away. Fluid still profusely oozing out of the slit of his tip, telltale of his concupiscence, he perches between your legs. ‘How do you want it, baby?’ His tone endearing, yet eyes deadly dangerous.

Impatient for him to fill you to the brim again, you lift your both legs up for him to grab and place onto his shoulders. ‘Like this please, daddy.’

That’s all you have to say for him to grunt okay and push deep into you, knees digging into the mattress like lampposts. In this position, his cock reaches your cervix without hindrance, his swollen head slamming into your end every thrust he gives. It’s a different type of ache this time, more acutely targeted at the one sensitive spot inside you. As he continues you thrust into you, bollocks swinging at your ass, a build up of sensitivity gathers at your core.

You feel it approaching, that imminent contortion of your cunt, looming over you, on the brink of toppling your senses.

‘Keep going.’ You whimper, the filthy feeling of his prick hammering so fast into you enough to bring tears to your eyes. You try to keep them open, watch his tongue poke out in concentration as he watches your body quiver under his. But the intensity of his fucking is truly too overwhelming that a single droplet leaks out and flow down your temple.

‘I’m so close.’ Taehyung heaves, pecking the bone of your ankle. Something ruptures within him, his sanity, humanity, and suddenly with an even more arduous determination he drives into your walls like a crazed beast. Sole purpose now to reach the climax awaiting him, he spreads your legs open wide before him and rabidly plunges his twitching prick.

And for the second and third time this night, your orgasm hits you, one immediately followed by the other. ‘Taehyung, I’m-’ You’re a crying thrashing body beneath him, the ecstatic pleasure obliterating your mind into ruins as your cunt erupts. The string of profanities that leave you sound incoherent to your own hearing.

You won’t be able to walk straight tomorrow, you’re sure of it.

Taehyung watches you break on his cock, walls tightening impossibly around him, until only a husk of your being remains.

‘Holy shit, I’m gonna come.’ Frantic with excitement, his hips move sloppily. ‘Where should I come?’

‘All over my face? In my mouth?’ Cupping your breast, you gaze up at him with salacious eyes.

‘Oh my fuck- Yes.’

Yanking himself out, a string of your own release threaded at his tip, he slides himself up the bed until his knees are on either side of your head. Pornographically he slaps his hot length on your cheek several times as you roll out your tongue for him. ‘You like that? You like my dick on your face?’

‘Hmmm.’ You engulf his seeping tip in your ready mouth while he jerks himself off with a teenage boy’s zest, his knuckles hitting at the underside of your chin.

Eager to coax his orgasm, you lick fervently at his sensitive head, right on the patch of skin around his slit that drives every man insane.

‘Oh fuck! Baby-’

Abruptly, he withdraws his cock from your mouth. Not after two strokes, he is shooting hot white spurts of his seed onto your face, your eyes shutting just in time to avoid being fired at. Some of his fluid lands in your mouth, brewing bitterly on your awaiting tongue. Eyes squeezed shut, his cock pulses involuntarily in his hand as he lurches his high to an end.

‘You look so fucking good with my cum all over your face.’ Taehyung stares at his piece of work, splattered across your cheeks, on your forehead, and unfortunately for you, in your hair. Feral demeanour dimming, he leans down and gently smears his ejaculation all over your skin before nudging it into your mouth.

Like his good little baby you are, you swallow it like it’s your milk.

‘Mm…’ Throat hoarse from all the moaning, you suck his taste off his thumb.

Exhaustion dawns over the both of you when the adrenaline drains from your blood. Ache straining between your thighs, you waddle over to the bathroom quickly before him cum dries into a crusty nightmare.

Your sex-ridden, hair-dishevelled, hickey-speckled reflection greets you in the mirror. Realisation of your actions sink into your heart along with the sour taste of guilt.

What the fuck have you done?

You just had the wildest sex with Taehyung, your new roommate.

Taehyung, your new roommate.

Taking a deep breath in and out, you try to form back the logic shattered by his brutal fucking. Why do you have to be the way that you are? Just why are you so incapable of controlling your nymphomania?

‘You okay?’ Taehyung’s bass booms from the bedroom, startling you from your turmoil.

You gave into your temptations. You fucked up.

But this isn’t unsalvageable, you two can recover from it. After all, it’s not like you have been lifelong best friends, you’ve only just met each other, still stepping into deeper stages of your friendship day by day. As long as you don’t let this happen again, stop seeing him in a sexual light, you two should be fine.

Yes, you’ll be fine.

Drying your washed face with a towel, your answer is muffled. ‘Yep, all good.’

When you roam back to the room, you see him sprawled out like a Greek God, still shirtless but now wearing sweatpants that outlines his bulge all too well, bed sheets bunched to the side to aerate his sweat-dampened body. His eyes crawl over your naked form with a thirst that has you willing to drop to your knees and suck him off again. Spoilt in the attention he’s doling you, you climb beside him perhaps too seductively than you should.

Stop. You shouldn’t.

Taehyung doesn’t waste a second to pull you into his chest and smother you with slow, passionate kisses. Such contradiction to his rough handling of you sheer minutes ago. His tongue feels heavier, nicer as it rolls along yours, maybe because you’re now sober, senses no longer dulled by alcohol.

It’s a difficulty to retract from his romantic poet of a mouth whose sole purpose is to entice you into its warm embrace. But you do. ‘Hey… We really shouldn’t have…’ You can’t bring yourself to finish your sentence because you care too much for his feelings to hurt him.

But then the cool nonchalance in his pupils relieve you of your fear. ‘Yeah… Probably not the smartest move.’

His fingers toy fondly with your hair, twirling it like a velvet ribbon. Eyes wide with his boyish innocence, you wonder if this is the same person who was just slapping his dick on your cheek and made you call him daddy. This trip was meant to allow you to understand him better, yet you remain stuck, perhaps more than before, in his enigma.

And you wonder how his girlfriend could ever have sought after anyone else Taehyung is… Well he has just done that…

‘It doesn’t change anything, right? We’re still friends?’ You want to roll out of his clasp yet his arms feel so soft and smooth and perfect to fall asleep in.

‘Of course, Y/N’ From the earnesty in his tone, you know you can trust his word.

To resume your previous playful dynamic, you pinch his nose between your knuckles. ‘Then let go of me, friends don’t cuddle.’

‘Friends do cuddle.’ He frowns, shocked as if you’ve just slapped him across the face with a whole cabbage of kimchi.

‘Uh… No they don’t.’ Repulsed by such affection, you try to wiggle away but he locks his arms around your torso like a vice.

‘I don’t know what kind of friends you’ve had, but you’re stuck with me now and in Taehyung-land: Friends. Cuddle.’ Blowing raspberries on your ticklish neck, he lets you squirm like a fish in attempt to escape his coddling, chest rumbling into your back with laughter. Your squeals of help turn into giggles. Raspberries turn into kisses.

You freeze. ‘Oi, friends don’t kiss friends’ necks.’

‘Come on, we just had sex, let me just kiss you a bit more.’ Watching him pout so babily, your heart squeezes. Fuck. Why is your heart squeezing?

But you kiss his jutted lips, still. Savouring his taste that you know you won’t have the chance to delight in again. ‘Fine, but if you try to kiss me tomorrow, I’ll kick your nuts.’

Taehyung takes that as a green light to use you as a snuggle toy for the rest of the night, mouth gallivanting the ocean that is your skin.

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07/09/18

© Copyright 2019

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@shookpreme @taetaeobsessed @tangledsparkles @nonexistentfucks @evilkookie @nbiased95 @shimtatae @taehyungmakesmeoof @itscalledgayhoney @tahaing @deliciouslydisturbed365  @expensive-bangtan-girl @jwlmnbt @herakimkim @dnyad @kaepjjang365 @angelswrld @expensive-bangtan-girl @icyi-sky @gingerpeachtae @taexxxiiaa @spring2787 @monixreal

[vannahfanfics]

Hushabye Mountain

Category: General Fluff

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Shota Aizawa, Eri

Yay! My first entry for @bnhabookclub​‘s Bingo Event, for the prompt “Sing to Sleep”! I knew when I saw it that I had to write some fluffy Dadzawa TT.TT Enjoy!

The rain pounded against the walls and windows, filling the ordinarily quiet night air with insistent drumming. Occasionally, the wind would wail and rattle the branches of the trees outside, making their spindly fingers and dripping leaves scrape against the siding. Thunder rolled in the roiling gray clouds, preceded by brilliant flashes of white streaks of lightning that carved like lines of silver through the fluffy masses.

Shota could see the reflection of the window in the bright glaring screen of his laptop. For the last ten minutes, instead of finalizing his lesson plans for the following week like he ought to, he had been watching the water stream over the glass pane like a thundering waterfall. A particularly loud boom of thunder shook the dormitory, and he sighed deeply, leaning far back in his computer chair to rub his eyes.

He peered through his fingers at his alarm clock. Bright, neon green numbers spelled out 2:18 a.m. in the gloom. He ran a hand over his face, which then split into a long yawn. For a man who loved his sleep, he sure found himself awake at ungodly hours of the night more often than he wished to.

A small creak from the other side of the room attracted his attention. He used his feet to turn the chair around to glance at the bedroom door, finding it slightly ajar. Ruby red eyes, watery and full, blinked at him from the small gap. With a small tsk, Shota rubbed the side of his head and gestured for the little girl to enter the room.

“Does the thunder scare you?” he inquired as Eri shuffled into the small bedroom. She stopped several feet away from him and silently shook her head. Eri had been residing at U.A. for several months now, but the girl was still very much skittish. Smiling softly, Shota motioned with his hand for her to approach. Her butterfly-patterned yellow nightgown swished around her little knees as she cautiously padded over the wooden floor to his chair. “What is it, Eri?”

“I had a nightmare,” she admitted meekly. Her little fingers wrung into themselves, and she looked guiltily at her bare feet. “I dreamed… That I was back there, and he was doing those awful things to me.” She ran her small hands over her arms, arms that had not too long ago been swathed in bandages. Her bottom lip wobbled as tears sprung to the corners of her eyes. “I dreamed that Lemillion and Deku were dead, and he was laughing at me, telling me it was all my fault!”

“Hey, hey,” he consoled quietly as she began to cry pitifully. He leaned down to slip his hands under her armpits, and then lifted her effortlessly into his lap. She rubbed at her teary eyes with her hands, sniffling and hiccupping. “Overhaul can’t hurt you anymore,” he crooned, smudging the tears away with the pads of his thumb. It did little good, as the girl continued to cry petulantly, replacing the deposed tears with new ones. Shota just exhaled and hugged her head to his chest, running his fingers through her wavy, white-silver hair. He had never been good with children. Hizashi could probably get her to smile, he thought with a click of his teeth.

Eri snuggled into his body as she cried, pawing her little hands into the folds of his tee-shirt. After a few minutes, she ceased her weeping and propped herself up on her knees to cuddle into his shoulder. Shota’s hand smoothed soothing circles into the small of her back, and he leaned his head against hers.

“I know he can’t hurt me anymore,” she whimpered, digging her hands into the sleeves of his shirt, “but it still frightens me. I’m afraid that one day I’ll wake up, and all of this will have been a dream.” Shota smiled painfully. This is much too heavy a burden for a child to carry. If I ever see Overhaul again, I’ll rip out his insides, he thought bitterly. He pushed Eri back so that she sat on her knees, pouting uncertainly at him. Shota brushed a strand of her milk-white hair from her round face, tucking it behind her ear.

“That’s a pretty scary thought,” he agreed gently, “but you’re safe now. This is no dream.” Her small lips curled into a shaky smile, and internally, Shota shouted victory. Another roaring roll of thunder resounded through the heavens, shaking the sturdy walls of the dormitory. Eri squeaked and jumped into him, making him chuckle and wrap his arms snugly around her quivering body. “So, you are scared of the thunder, too.”

“It’s so loud! I could never hear it so deep underground… Is the sky falling?”

“No, the sky’s not falling. Come on now. Let’s go to your room.” Obediently, she wound her slim arms around his neck and tucked her tiny legs against his waist. Bearing her weight with the thick of his left arm, he rose from the chair to head to the little girl’s room. The drenched yard beyond the row of floor-to-ceiling glass windows thrashed in the thrall of the storm; the crackles of lightning illuminated the thrashing trees and trembling bushes and rippling puddles of rainwater. Eri’s vermillion eyes reflected in the glass like two shining blood moons, beholding the splendor of nature’s power.

“Are you sure we’ll be okay?” she asked unsurely. Shota smiled and patted the back of her head reassuringly.

“I’m sure. Tomorrow, the grass will be greener and the flowers brighter because of all this rain. If you asked him, Midoriya might take you out to play in the mud puddles.” He felt the girl stiffen with glee, and she released a delighted little gasp, making him grin. Maybe I know children better than I thought.

The pink nightlight blazing in the corner filled Eri’s bedroom with a soft, rosy glow. He carried her over to her bed and gently lowered her into it, then pulled the comforter snugly under her chin. She pouted thoughtfully up at him, her eyes shaking like she wished to ask him a question. “What is it, Eri?”

“Will you sing to me?” Shota’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and he rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. Eri fingered the hem of the comforter, looking a bit guilty. “I’m sorry. We watched a movie the other day, and a mother sang a lullaby to her baby. I don’t… I don’t remember if my mother ever even sang me lullabies… I just wanted to know what it was like.” Shota’s mouth twisted into a mixture between a smile and scowl. Jeez, how awful would he be, to refuse such an innocent request from such a traumatized girl? Resigning himself to the humiliation, Shota sat on the edge of the bed and wracked his mind for a suitable melody for the girl. Deep in the recesses of his memory, he recalled a tune.

“A gentle breeze from Hushabye Mountain softly blows over Lullaby Bay. It fills the sails of boats that are waiting, waiting to sail your worries away,” he sang awkwardly, shifting on the bed. Eri’s blood-red eyes watched him rapturously, her lips slightly parted in fascination. He cleared his throat and continued, looking up at the ceiling with pink cheeks, “It isn’t far to Hushabye Mountain, and your boat waits down by the quay. The winds of night so softly are sighing. Soon they will fly your troubles away.”

He peeked out of his peripheral vision to see Eri’s eyes drooping. She blinked slowly, like a cat, and smacked her lips a little. The edge of Shota’s mouth curled upward into a smile. “So close your eyes on Hushabye Mountain, wave goodbye to cares of the day, and watch your boat from Hushabye Mountain sail far away from Lullaby Bay.” Her chest was rising and falling with deep, unlabored breaths. Her red irises just barely peeked out from beneath her long lashes, and they hazed with exhaustion. Shota smirked, knowing she was forcing herself to stay awake for the last verse. He swept his hand over her forehead, ruffling her soft bangs. “So close your eyes on Hushabye Mountain, wave goodbye to cares of the day, and watch your boat from Hushabye Mountain sail far away from Lullaby Bay.”

With one final, long exhale, her eyes drifted closed. Shota cocked his head and watched her sleep for a while, stroking lines into her cascades of hair. Her face remained peaceful and unworried; no more nightmares tainted the solace of her rest. The rain had dwindled to a soft pattering against the roof tiles, with the thunder no more than a few distant rumbles. He leaned back on the palms of his hands to watch her with a tiny smile. Shota hadn’t been quite sure what to make of it, when Principal Nezu had assigned her to his care. Yet, looking at her then, so pure and content, Shota knew in his heart he didn’t regret it.

“G’night, Eri,” he breathed and brushed her small knuckles with his fingertips. Her little mouth curled into a teensy smile and she muttered his name, though she was completely unconscious. He hesitated for a second, then leaned over and pressed a small kiss to her forehead, overwhelmed by paternal instincts. When he leaned back, her smile had widened.

When Shota finally ventured back into his bedroom, the neon numbers were shouting 2:37 at him. Groaning, he flopped face-first onto his bed, not even bothering to pull the covers over himself. Lying on his belly and hugging the pillow, he looked thoughtfully out the raindrop-splattered window. … Maybe tomorrow, I’ll wake up early and take Eri to play in the mud puddles myself. Smirking, he rolled over to set his alarm for the following morning.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

Tag List: @deliathedork​ @simplybakugou​ @sadistiks​ @wesparklebitch​

[icymapletree]

wash the dust from under your fingernails

By @icymapletree for @comingupwriting (for the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange)

Rating: General

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Morgan Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Morgan Stark

Summary: There is nothing Tony wants more than for his kids to have at least one peaceful night of dreaming. But the cries that he hears indicate that tonight is not that night.

Peter scrubs his hands together with an increasing intensity. The dust is under his fingernails and a residue on his skin.

He doesn’t need blood to stain his skin red because he has the dust that follows his like a storm cloud. 

There is so much dust that it starts to clump together. It clogs up the drain, and the sink is filling, filling so high that it pours onto the floor in a waterfall.

His shoes squish in the murky water as he tries to run away. The world behind him stays firmly planted behind him, and it won’t go away. 

He screams, he calls for Tony, but the room is spinning, and there’s nothing he can do when he is thrown onto the floor of the Stark cabin. It smells like smoke and war, which makes sense when he looks up at his family members, who are distraught and looking at their hands like they aren’t as permanent as they thought. 

Morgan reaches for him, tears running down her cheeks. She whines his name, but her fingers start to dissolve and crumble onto the floor. 

There’s a spattering of dust on the carpet, and Pepper reaches for her child’s remains. They cascade through Pepper’s own disappearing fingers, the pieces of their bodies muddling together. Tony embraces his wife as they both dissolve to a pile of dust on the ground.

May is the last to go, and she berates Peter for failing them. Her criticisms - while indecipherable - ring in Peter’s ears as she too falls to the floor and crumbles.

Peter wants to become dust too, but his body doesn’t join them. He just falls to the floor of the fiery cabin and cries, screaming their names.

Tony hears Peter’s screams even through the curtain of sleep. He leaps up out of bed, throwing open his bedroom door and ignoring Pepper’s cries of indignation for him to come back to bed.

His socked feet make dull thuds on the carpet, a sound he prays won’t wake Morgan up. It’s a hopeless thought - if she wakes up, it will be because of Peter’s throaty screams.

When Tony is finally able to shove open Peter’s door, the kid isn’t even on his bed-- he’s in a tangle of sheets on his floor. Tony isn’t able to spot the boy’s brown curls in the mess. 

He can see an arm, a leg, and another arm thrashing, and Peter’s shouting so loud-- but his yells are nonsensical. 

Tony is able to hear his name in the mess of sounds, and for a moment he’s frozen in fear-- until Peter’s forehead sticks out of the knotted blankets. He kneels by Peter’s side and gently brushes back his curls.

“Buddy. Hey Peter, kid, it’s time for you to wake up. It’s not real, Peter. Kid, I’m here with you, I’m okay. Morgan’s okay, and so are May and Pepper,” he says. Tony wants nothing more than to take Peter’s hand and squeeze like he does with Morgan, but he’s learned that lesson. The brittle bones of an old man don’t do well in the hands of a spider-kid who’s not in charge of their strength. 

Peter starts to pull away from his nightmare, but Tony’s not getting all the way through to him. He can’t imagine the horrors that the kid’s seeing - he’s been through so much at such a young age.

“Peter,” Tony says again, with a little more force now that the kid isn’t flailing his limbs with the power of an angry elephant. 

The kid’s eyes snap open, and he’s a flurry of apologies in a sleep-heavy voice. “Sorry, sorry, oh my God, I’m so--“

Tony’s hand is a grounding weight on his shoulder. “No reason to be sorry, kid, you can’t help it.”

“But it shouldn’t happen.”

“No, it shouldn’t.” Tony takes a deep breath. “But it’s not your fault. Do you want to go back to bed? I’ll stay here with you.”

Peter is way too quick to shake his head. “I’ll meet you downstairs.”

That’s strange. “Are you sure? Let me at least help you out of the blankets, buddy.”

“Yeah, I, uh, I need to change my PJs. I’m really sweaty,” Peter says with a humorless chuckle. “I do need some help, though.” He tries to gesture, but his arms are bound to his side.

Tony wastes no time helping Peter, he gets an arm out first, then the other arm, and using his newfound leverage, Peter is able to wriggle out.

“I’m okay now, thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Anything for my kid.” He hums. “Did you get hurt when you fell at all?”

“I don’t think so. I’ll be right down.”

Tony looks at him hesitantly, but gets up and walks to the door. “See you in a minute,

bud.”

When Tony leaves the room, Peter exhales and heads to his en suite bathroom. He washes his hands until they’re red and raw - because he needs to get rid of the dust under his fingernails. He scrapes and scratches, and when he feels like the dust has been washed away, he uses a bit of hand cream that he stole from May.

Peter finally feels comfortable enough to go downstairs. He makes sure to be quiet in order to not to wake Morgan up. 

He climbs down the stairs, and Tony is where Peter guessed he’d be - hunched over a whining kettle. It hisses and then it screams, and Tony pours the boiling water into two mugs with tea bags.

Peter gently flops onto the couch and reaches for the blanket that is draped over the back of it. It’s a quilt that Tony made during the Blip - Peter does not envy Morgan and Pepper for the weird hobbies that Tony picked up during that time. For goodness sake, they own an alpaca named Gerald.

Tony slides into the spot next to Peter and passes the kid his mug. Peter flinches a little when the hot ceramic touches his sensitive fingers, but the tea inside is good enough for him to forgive the mug’s little mishap. Only the best for Tony Stark.

Peter sets it on the glass coffee table next to him, and Tony passes his own mug to Peter for him to set on the table as well. The older man drags his feet up onto the couch, as Peter curls further into himself.

Tony’s hands eventually make their way to Peter’s hair and make work of pulling out all of the snags. His hair is damp with sweat, but Tony can’t bring himself to care.

He’s still busy with trying to believe that this miracle next to him is really real. He doesn’t know where he’d be without Peter. He’d have probably died from alcohol poisoning.

Tony shakes his head, trying to rid himself of the memory of when he almost accidentally did in the thick of his grief. But, Peter’s here now, and he can’t spend too much time in the past.

The kid has finally settled in, but Tony can’t seem to lull him to sleep, even when he brings out some singing. It’s an Italian lullaby, something his mother used to sing to him, and it feels strangely intimate. No ears except for Morgan’s and Peter’s get to hear Tony sing.

His best tries don’t do much, Peter’s eyes stay firmly planted open. His movements do get more and more lethargic, but no matter what Tony does, he can’t get those big brown eyes to close.

“What’s wrong, kid?” he finally asks, and gently presses a kiss to Peter’s forehead to make up for talking during the silence. That was usually one of their rules - to let silence sit.

“Nothing really,” he mumbles, his spider-sense a small hum. He’s chosen to ignore it - sometimes it’s a bit on the fritz after a nightmare.

“You wanna watch a movie?”

“Moana,” he says quietly, “Although Morgan might kill me for watching it without her.”

“She’ll deal,” Tony smiles, reaching for the remote and turning on the movie with a few quick button clicks.

Peter hums along with the songs, and his eyes stay open. Tony’s tried rubbing his back, doing nothing, and even going back to playing with the kid’s hair. He’s tried singing softly with the movie, but that only seems to encourage the kid more.

When he finally seems to settle in, Tony breathes a sigh of relief. But it’s too soon, because Peter suddenly straightens up, as stiff as a board, eyes wide open.

He’s rushing to Morgan’s room, faster than Tony’s seen him move out of the suit. Fear shoots like lightning through Tony’s veins, and he’s up too, as fast as his old bones can handle.

All of his questions are answered when he sees Peter sitting on Morgan’s bed, talking her down from a panic. Tear tracks shine on her cheeks in the glow of her nightlight.

It looks like Peter’s got this handled, no use in Tony stepping in and mucking things up. Although, Peter is using similar words to the ones that Tony uses with him, oh God, this is not how things should be--

“You wanna watch Moana with Daddy and I?”

Morgan nods quickly, and Peter scoops her into his arms. She tucks her head into Peter’s shoulder, and Tony can’t help but feel guilty. Is it his fault that his children can’t stop their fear even in their sleep?

“You coming, Tony?” Peter asks on the top step of the stairs, shifting his weight from one leg to the next.

“Yeah. Yeah, yeah. I’m coming.” He follows Peter to the couch, and looks at their now cold tea with a smile. 

Peter starts Moana over, and sets Morgan on his lap, and brushes her hair away from her eyes. He pats the spot next to him on the couch, and Tony quickly joins them.

Peter sings exaggeratedly for Morgan, and she giggles at everything he does. Eventually, exhaustion wins over, and she falls asleep clinging to Peter like an octopus.

“I heard her, you know,” Peter says after some time. “I heard her screaming, and I thought that I couldn’t let her feel that way. And I couldn’t let you deal with another crying kid tonight. Because what I felt when I heard Morgan crying, you feel that times one thousand.”

“How did you hear her?”

“I am a superhero, Tony. If anything, I’m good for hearing abnormally well.” He elbows Tony with a smile.

Tony returns that smile. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly.

“For what?” Peter asks, and the grogginess that Tony has been hoping for all night is finally creeping in.

“For bringing you and Morgan into this.”

Peter turns to look at Tony, and forcefully yet calmly says, “I chose this life. I would’ve done it with you or without you. You made it safer for me, Tony. Without you, I’d probably be dead.” 

He glances at the TV, where Moana is plunging into the Land of the Monsters. “As for Morgan, it’s not your fault. You retired for her. You came out of retirement to save half of the world and then went right back to retirement because you thought it’s what's best for her. You put her - and me - ahead of your own needs, and that’s what makes you a good father, Tony.”

Tony looks at Peter and then quickly looks away, and in that short time, he realizes that he will never be able to express to Peter how much his words mean - and how much he means to Tony. “Thank you, Pete. I love you.”

But when he looks back at Peter, the kid is fast asleep.

[unn-eirasdottir]

Unn was one of the youngest Valkyrior. She had joined just a century or two before her death. However, she'd been training like a Valkyrie her whole life.

It was strange being back among the living. Unn had forgotten the uneasy looks that most Asgardians gave the Valkyrior. After all, they were associated with death. Probably moreso now that most of the Valkyrior had been brought back from Valhalla.

One of the few exceptions was Unn's older sister, Brunnhilde. For as long as Unn can remember, she has looked up to the older Valkyrie. Brunnhilde was everything a Valkyrie was supposed to be: courageous, loyal, honorable, and protective. Unn strived to be like her sister every day. So it broke her heart when she finally saw Brunn after centuries of being separated by death.

Brunn was broken. She blamed herself for the death of the other Valkyrior, especially Unn. She had been living alone for centuries and centuries with nothing but her guilt and alcohol to keep her company.

Unn was grateful that Brunnhilde had found a family. She knew Brunn must have been worse off when she'd been alone. Still, Unn missed the closeness she used to share with her sister. More than death had separated them, apparently.

"UNN! GET OVER HERE! THE BATTLE WITH CUL IS ABOUT TO BEGIN!"

Unn shook herself from her thoughts. "Coming!" She could think more on this later. Right now, Asgard needed her. Unn cast one more worried glance at the doors that should be opening to reveal Brunnhilde before jogging over to the other Valkyrior. Unn was half-relieved that her sister hadn't shown up yet. It meant she wouldn't die in the battle. However, she was also disappointed. Unn always felt more secure with her sister fighting beside her.

Just as the Allfather was about to lead the Valkyrior into Cul's prison, a loud creaking sounded. Unn turned just in time to see Brunnhilde running toward them.

Brunn skidded to a halt beside Unn. "Sorry I'm late!" She whispered to Unn. "My kids were very reluctant to let me go."

"That's okay," Unn replied, saddened at the mention of her nieces and nephews, but carefully hiding her emotions behind a neutral expression. "I understand."

I understand that you have more important people in your life than me now, Unn thought.

Brunnhilde frowned. She seemed to sense something was off. Luckily for Unn, they were already plunging into Cul's prison. No time to talk.

As Unn ran into the prison, she saw that the Allfather and Allmother were already battling Cul. She immediately noted that this would not be an easy battle.

Not only did Cul have the necrosword, but he was also a naturally gifted warrior, fighting with astounding ferocity, strength, and cunning. No, this was definitely not going to be an easy fight.

Unn charged into battle, her sister by her side. However, to the young Valkyrie's dismay, Cul easily blocked every blow. Even more terrifying was the ever-growing pool of darkness around the ancient god, and the fact that his eyes were now as black as empty space.

Unn pushed her fear down. She knew that fear was Cul's greatest strength. Best not to give it to him.

At some point during the battle, Brunnhilde disappeared from Unn's side. This worried her, as Brunn would never willingly leave her sister's side. However, there was nothing to be done about it. Besides, the sooner than battle ended, the sooner Brunn would be safe.

.....

The Allfather finally defeated Cul. The god of fear was now lying on his side, unconscious and bleeding. Odin took the necrosword and ordered a nearby Valkyrie to have it secured and guarded.

Unn looked around for her sister, excited to share the victory with her. She pushed her way through the other Valkyrior before stopping dead in her tracks.

Brunnhilde was sprawled across the floor, a scary pool of blood beneath her. She wasn't moving.

Unn rushed over. "Brunn! Brunn!" She cried. She knelt beside the fallen Valkyrie and felt for a pulse.

Nothing.

"NO!" she wailed. She cradled Brunn's body to her chest, sobbing. Her sister was dead. Her only living family...gone. Unn was now alone in the world.

After several minutes, Unn's tears stopped. She couldn't cry anymore. So instead, she softly sang an old lullaby that her mother used to sing to her and Brunn when they were little.

She sang of blooming flowers in spring, of cascading waterfalls, of peaceful valleys, of long-forgotten wonders. She sang on and on. And she dreaded the moment when she would finally have to stop.

[tes-trash-blog]

The trees spoke of something new, and when the trees started to pay mind, you knew it was important. Elfo listened to each leaf as they fell, watched how they no longer glided in the wind but flitted and shuddered. He did it, Overseers guide us, the lunatic really did it!

“Did what?” Elfo asked, but by then he forgot most of his treespeak. He resorted to asking the flowers who he could understand well enough, and they understood the trees, and the trees understood the leaves. The leaves spoke in hushed whispers, then the bark in that low groan, then the flowers in pollen and humming.

Men! Walking, talking men! Old Loony actually made them! Oldest Tree saw them and told us! The flowers conveyed as the bees came by, summoned by their sweet vowels. Their wings flitted with They finally stopped crawling? and So long as they leave us to our delights, we’ll be just fine. But the flowers weren’t done. They ranted and they wailed as their petals shifted. Walking on legs and everything, like they’re so special!

Embarrassment wouldn’t come around proper for years, not until the first pair of breeches had their first malfunction, but Elfo understood the heat and sudden shyness. He had legs. He liked his legs, they let him go from place to place while he looked around. It was an efficient system, he thought, as it let him do two things at once, and surely no one minded that he had them. He was careful as he walked, and surely if the higher-ups cared they would’ve taken them by now. There was something else, a tugging at him that pulled him down, but not towards the ground.

He did not like how they called First Maker. He wasn’t Old Loony. He was First Maker.

“Where are they?” he asked the flowers. “Could you ask the trees where they are? I would very much like to see one!”

The flowers understood Elfo’s words but not his reasoning. Foolish thing! they said sharply, and from those words came thorns. Men are nothing but bad news! Old Loony was bad news, and so is everything he made!

Elfo was pricked with those and many more, but he did not bleed as he did not know how to. When the last of the brambles excused themselves and left, he absolved to find his own Man, if only to see what they were like. He took long strides, and even then it took many days and many more nights before he found unfamiliar ground. When he shortened his stride and looked about, he felt the age of this place. It was old even though the world was new. This was a special place, he thought. Probably the first to be made. This had to be it, for if First Maker did make Men, then surely this was the cradle they slept in. Elfo took care to be quiet in case they were still sleeping. It was dark, and it was rude to interrupt the lullabies from the stars.

The winds here were not as strong as they were back where Elfo came from, but they still carried sound. It was a low sound, rumbling like the earth when it thought to shake things up a little, but not from the ground. Elfo followed it until he saw a distant orange light. He knew what that was, that was fire, and it came about when lightning struck a tree that was ready to go back to the ground. But the trees here were green and vital still, and the orange was small. And dancing. It was a pretty dance, and Elfo tried to follow along. He tripped and scrambled, and all his intentions in the world wouldn’t have made him quiet in the hubbub. When he finally made himself upright he saw the fleeing of what must have been wolves, but they were no wolves he ever saw before. The dancing fire was still, and rested near a pair of legs. Attached to the legs was a Man.

It was a Man, and a man. He was a he, just like Elfo, but different. Elfo decided to be he, but this man looked to be made that way. He smelled of something new, tangy and strange. It was the smell of fear, but Elfo had never known fear. He learned it then, and made himself very small, smaller than he had ever been. The Man finally found his feet and stood, and Elfo stayed still. He did not know what to say to him, for fear he would scare him off.

The tangy smell faded from the Man. He spoke first, “I must thank you, stranger in all ways. I hope you forgive me, but I know not what you are, and so I must ask.”

“I’m Elfo!” said Elfo. He found his confidence as the Man found his feet. “You are a Man, yes? I have taken many long strides and many days to see someone like you.”

“That I am, stranger Elfo,” the Man said. “That I am, indeed. You are a sight unfamiliar to me and mine, but I see you have legs. How about you walk with me a while? I have many steps to take before my journey is ended.”

Elfo gladly joined him, and with the Man learned how legs were truly supposed to work. They walked together for many days and nights, through Elder Wood all the way to the Oldest Tree, and there Elfo thanked the branches and hugged the roots, and the Wood nodded her acknowledgement. They continued on past woods and old-earth to singing spirits and searing heat, to cloudsilk and spungold spires, past sands that twinkled like stars and the whispers of visiting roots that found new homes, to the place where the oldest made new things still, and beyond to lands still not known to Men.

They walked together for a long time, longer than any Man had ever lived before. Men lived longer back then, but the Man who was his companion kept a strong stride when others slowed and stopped. In this time, Elfo learned more then than he ever had before. He learned how to make lips so he could whistle to the birds that remained, how to properly hold all things precious. He learned how to make himself unbreakable, for Men were strong and able but still prone to injury. He learned how to become shade and shadow to cool boiling blood, warmth and light when long winter came. Elfo learned of affection and love, for as they wandered and wondered, Elfo became a not-stranger, then a walking-friend, then a close-friend, and then a true-friend. He held it as one would a freshly born babe, closer and more tender than any jewel ever deserved.

Only time and love are endless, and so it was that the Man finally became grey in his beard and slowed his pace. He stopped upon the earth and rubbed his knees. Elfo took three steps before he realized his friend was behind him, and rushed to his side.

“What is it?” Elfo asked, as he learned that when someone stopped, something was on their mind. The Man sighed but he smiled, and there Elfo realized how many lines had drawn on his face. The Man was old like the trees in his home were, but Elfo was still so young.

“True-friend Elfo, I fear I shall walk no further,” said the Man. “Would you sit with me a spell? The stars are out, and they are a beautiful sight to see.”

Elfo joined him, but he was not glad. Above them the stars sung as they did, but their voices were so quiet now, and Elfo did not want to sing along. The skies were clear there was rain on him. He did not know how, but he knew all the same: this night would be last he would ever share with his first and dearest friend.

“What troubles you, Elfo?” asked the Man.

“You are leaving,” he said, and the rain on him became waterfalls. His friends left but Elfo did not miss them, for they were as endless as him. But Men had an end, and therefore, so too did his friend.

“I am dying, my friend. And there is a world of difference between dying and leaving.” Elfo did not understand. The Man took Elfo’s hand and placed it on his chest, and there did he feel the slow beat of a heart. For all his years of learning, Elfo had never heard a heartbeat before. He found it comforting like mossy mounds. “This heart of mine will soon end, but I shall remain with you. When the night is dark and the terrors come, you need think only of me, and I will be there for you. It shall be as you were for me, on that night and many others.”

And the Man did something Elfo had only seen, but never felt, not until his feeble arms wrapped around and held him. Elfo hugged him back, and did not let go even when the Man did, for he had finally passed.

Many days passed before Elfo rose again. The trees and flowers held their words, and the wind stilled before him. Even the clouds stopped their careless flight to better look at him, for he had changed. They were all in agreement, it wasn’t a bad change, for Elfo was still Elfo, and would be for all time, but a change nonetheless. When he did walk his gait was even, for his legs were encased in shimmering white. The same gentle glow made up all his armor, and his cloak as well. Metal was new by the standards of Mer and Men, crude and simple; what Elfo surrounded himself with was stronger than metal, than Elder Wood and sharp words, for it was made of love.

[mollymauk-teafleak]

Perc'ahlia + ❛❛ This is stupid but… could you sing to me? You have such a nice voice, and I think it might help calm me down… you don’t have to, but… ❜❜

Percy scowled and let the sheaves of parchment fall to the floor with a waterfall of reproving rustling.

He knew he was foolish to think rebuilding an entire citadel would be anything but a massive effort but the fact that, even after years of hard work, the task felt no smaller was baffling. Still he spent his days drowning in schematics, order forms, receipts, trying to force them all into a new Whitestone, one that would be better than the old one.

But the day had ended long ago and he was exhausted and he was done. He wasn’t even going to try and pick the papers up, that was a job for Morning Percy.

He slid down further into the pillows, letting his bed swallow him up. His glasses sat crookedly on his nose now but he couldn’t even muster up the effort to right them.

It was a mistake to bring his work up to his family’s apartments, Percy knew that. He wanted this suite at the very top of the palace- what had once been his parents’, though stripped out and redesigned in the rebuild- to be a haven from the pressure of being one of Whitestone’s rules, for him and for his wife.

But now all his stresses were lying scattered on the carpets and his mind was slowly starting to grow quiet.

It was a beautiful night, too crisp to have the windows open but the world outside contributed to the peace with a gentle rain against the glass, a steadying rhythm. The moon was at its fullness, casting silvery light through the lace to settle just under the buttery gold glow of the alchemical lamps he’d designed himself.

But all of it, every part of it paled in beauty when compared to the soft sound of singing.

Their daughter’s room was just off the side to their own master bedroom, close enough that both of them could be at her side in an instant. So his wife’s voice, singing a soft lullaby to their little lady, was quiet but not muffled.

It had to be Elvish, Percy didn’t recognise the words. Though he was learning the language and hoping to surprise her with it once his pronunciation improved, he couldn’t keep up just yet. But it was beautiful all the same, lilting and gentle like the gentle pulse of a heartbeat drifting off to sleep.

Though he couldn’t see it, Percy could picture it. Vespa had his wife’s dark curls and his lean face, so beautiful he couldn’t quite believe it. He could picture it gentled in sleep, her tiny form curled up against Vex’s shoulder as she rocked her sweetly. Vex with her hair tied in a knot at the crown of her head to keep it out of the way, smiling the way she always did when she was around their daughter. The same smile that was probably mirrored on his own face.

The singing ended too soon. There was a few moments, the gentle soft sound of moving fabric, bare feet padding across the carpets. Then some of the light dimmed as the nursery door was closed and he heard Vex’ahlia chuckle.

“Are you still alive? Do you need anything? Smelling salts, a bucket of cold water, a hard slap?”

“You,” Percy croaked, opening his eyes and reaching for her.

She looked gorgeous, even in nothing but a simple black cotton nightdress. The sight was enough to make parts of him stir but he knew they weren’t headed in that direction tonight. He simply filed it away for later.

Vex stepped lightly over and took his hand, letting him pull her onto the bed. Percy could breathe easier, once he had her in his arms and he was in her’s.

He sighed as his head rested on her chest and her fingers began working through the longer part of his hair, “Abdicating sounds more and more tempting every day…”

“You don’t mean that,” Vex hummed, wrapping her legs around his waist, “You’ve worked too hard for this.”

“I know…” Percy let his eyes close, his wife smelled so nice. Soft flowers, milk, the amber in her hair. He could see why little Vespa nodded off whenever she was in her mama’s arms, “There’s just so much in my head sometimes…”

Vex made a sympathetic noise, holding him tighter, “And that’s all out there now, darling. You’re with me. None of that can get to you now.”

Percy bit his lip, wondering if he was actually going to say what he really wanted to say, “This is stupid but… could you sing to me? You have such a nice voice, and I think it might help calm me down… you don’t have to, but…”

He should have had more faith in his sunlight.

Vex settled him against her and smiled, closing her eyes and rocking him so softly. It was the same song, the same beautiful, ethereal lyrics, the same gorgeous voice. The voice that had lead him through so much.

The whole of Whitestone and all its citizens needed Percy. But all Percy needed was his family.

[onewaigu]

Moon

TW : mentioned death

Genre : boyfriend!au

Theme : fluff

Pairing : Seoho(Oneus) X Reader

Description : your life took a turn for the worse but he was there to comfort you under the moonlight.

You felt as if your life had hit rock bottom. If someone had told you three years ago that you were going to be left alone without a baby brother, you would've laughed and passed it off as a joke.

How ironic. You bitterly scoffed.

He was 6 at the time. Happy-go-lucky kinda kid, always found joy in every little thing he saw. He only witnessed a world so cruel to him through his innocent, pure eyes that looked like stars shining brightly amongst the abyss of the night sky. You loved him with all your heart.

Unfortunately, life hadn't been kind to him.

It started off as a normal day. You were fetching him from kindergarten just after your school had ended while your mother was at work. When he saw you from afar, he immediately ran out of the building to hug you. You smiled remembering how he was missing his two front teeth.

The happy memory however, ended there. Out of nowhere and not giving you enough time to react, a motorcycle rammed itself into your baby brother. The driver fled so the police had to rule the incident out as a hit-and-run case. Even then, you couldn't do anything for your brother. That changed you over the years.

It was now the third anniversary of his passing..and your mother was out partying. You understood that she was just trying to forget the pain of losing a son but you couldn't help but get angry at her for not being sober enough to even visit him.

You kicked the sand below you in frustration.

“What did that sand ever do to you?”, a soft voice rang through the quiet night with a hint of humour underneath it.

You placed on foot on the ground to stop yourself from swinging. The chains of the swing rattling against one another. You were at the park near your house. The place you'd always go to after visiting him. Of course Seoho would find you there alone.

“It's today, isn't it?”, his gentle voice sounded like a sweet lullaby as he took a seat at the empty swing next to you.

You simply nodded. You couldn't even bring yourself to say anything.

Your heart slightly fluttered at the warm touch of Seoho placing his fingers on your chin and turning it slowly so he that could see you. You imagined you looked like a mess. Your face was probably tear-stricken, your eyes were bloodshot red, and your nose was running like a waterfall.

You felt him gently cupping your face in his hands. His thumb rubbing circles on your cheeks to calm you down. At times like this, you were grateful that you had bumped into Seoho on the first day of college.

What started off as strangers proved to be something much more precious. His crescent-shaped eyes you saw whenever he smiled reminded you of the days when you would look up into the sky and reminisced your memories with your baby brother.

Even though you felt like life had hit rock bottom after losing him, being with someone who cared for you lifted the weight off your shoulders.

Slowly taking his hands off you, he gripped the chains of his swing and kicked the ground. You gazed at him as he swung rhythmically to the night breeze hitting your back.

Talking to the moon

Tryin' to get to you

In hopes you're on

The other side

Talking to me too

Or am I a fool

Who sits alone

Talking to the moon

As you listen to Seoho's melodious harmonies filling the park, your heart melted from the frustration you felt earlier. Looking up from him, you stared at the moon that illuminated the sky with its luminous glow. Overwhelming emotions were flooding your vision and at last, you dared to shed one last tear that was left rolling down your cheek.

“I love you, baby brother”

Bringing your mind back to Seoho who had long since stopped his singing. His eyes matched ones of comfort and warmth. You thought to yourself, this was where you belong.

[a/n]

cause everyone needs a seoho ^_^

[hatari-translations]

This is an interview with Hatari from ESCKAZ. The interview is in English, but towards the end, at about 2:30, the interviewer asks them to sing a section of their song. Matthías and Klemens look at each other, have a brief exchange in Icelandic, and then Klemens says he’ll sing a traditional Icelandic lullaby.

Below, I’ve translated what they’re saying and talk a bit about the lullaby that Klemens is singing!

Transcript

KLEMENS: ...Syngjum við?

INTERVIEWER: If you want.

KLEMENS: Á ég að syngja, eða?

MATTHÍAS: Ég gæti... Nei, ekkert vera að því.

KLEMENS: Á ég að syngja gamalt þjóðlag? Umm, íslenska vögguvísu?

MATTHÍAS: Þú getur gert það, já.

[Klemens sings a line, quietly]

KLEMENS: I will sing you not a section from our song Hate Wil Prevail, but I will sing a old traditional Icelandic lullaby.

[Klemens sings the same line, but with a different melody]

English translation

KLEMENS: ...Do we sing?

INTERVIEWER (in English): If you want.

KLEMENS: Should I sing, or?

MATTHÍAS: I could... Nah, let’s not.

KLEMENS: Should I sing an old folk song? Um, an Icelandic lullaby?

MATTHÍAS: You could do that, yeah.

[Klemens sings a line, quietly]

KLEMENS (in English): I will sing you not a section from our song Hate Will Prevail, but I will sing a [sic] old traditional Icelandic lullaby.

[Klemens sings the same line, but with a different melody]

Notes

I love this little dialogue between them, where they’re very doubtful about the idea of singing part of the song for the interviewer, and Matthías is like “Let’s not”, and then Klemens suggests instead he can just sing a lullaby, which is about as far from “Hatrið mun sigra” as you can get.

Klemens’s lullaby is called Sofðu unga ástin mín (“Sleep, my young love”), which is also the text of the line that he’s singing. As I’ve noted above, Klemens sings the same line twice there with two different melodies. The first time, it sounds like he’s just making sure he remembers how the song goes, which he does. The second time, though, the performance that “counts”, he sings the line that he just sang with a different melody altogether! I wondered if he'd maybe sung it in choir at some point and was singing an alternate voice as a little easter egg for any Icelandic choir members who might stumble upon this one day, but I looked up how the other voices go and none of them match what he was singing, so unless there’s a different choral arrangement for the same song, that’s not it.

I’m left thinking either he just sang his own melody for the hell of it, or... he just started a bit too high. You’ll notice if you compare the first time he sings the line to the second that he starts a bit higher the second time, and it’s possible he realized as he’d started that he wasn’t sure he could actually reach the subsequent notes from there well. So rather than awkwardly stopping and starting again in a lower register, he just ran with it and sang it to his own melody, knowing probably no one listening knew how it was supposed to go anyway, much the way that he just ran with saying he loved donalds. I am completely guessing here, mind, but I think it’s an amusing possibility. (Of course, now here I am telling the entire fandom that he sang it wrong. Sorry, Klemens.)

The lullaby

Sofðu unga ástin mín is indeed a very well-known Icelandic lullaby - any Icelander will know this song. It’s less old than I think most people assume, though: it’s from a play by Jóhann Sigurjónsson about real 18th-century outlaws Fjalla-Eyvindur and his wife Halla, which first opened in 1911.

Here’s how the Icelandic lyrics go:

Sofðu unga ástin mín

Úti regnið grætur

Mamma geymir gullin þín,

gamla leggi og völuskrín

Við skulum ekki vaka um dimmar nætur

Það er margt sem myrkrið veit

Minn er hugur þungur

Oft ég svarta sandinn leit

svíða grænan engireit

Í jöklinum hljóða dauðadjúpar sprungur

Sofðu lengi, sofðu rótt

Seint mun best að vakna

Mæðan kenna mun þér fljótt,

meðan hallar degi skjótt,

að mennirnir elska, missa, gráta og sakna

English translation

Sleep, my young love

The rain cries outside

Mom will keep your toys,

your old bones and talus box

We should not wake through the dark of the night

Many things the darkness knows

My mind is heavy

Often I’ve seen black sands

burying a green field

In the glacier rumble deathly deep chasms

Sleep long and sleep tight

It’s best to wake late

Sorrow will teach you soon,

as the hour grows late,

that people love and lose and weep and mourn

Translation notes

The “old bones and talus box” are traditional Icelandic toys. In olden times, children would play with the leg and jaw bones of sheep, pretending they were horses and cows. The talus bone (ankle bone), a precursor to dice thanks to the different sides that it could land on when tossed, was used to predict the future.

As you can tell, these lyrics are pretty dark for a lullaby. That would be because in the play, Halla is singing to put her daughter to sleep before throwing her in a waterfall, because men are coming to kill her and her husband and she would rather her baby die this way than they all be killed by them.

This is not really well-known context in Iceland, though! To most people it’s just a pretty lullaby with some stark, haunting lyrics. I don’t know if Klemens knows where it’s from or not, but either way it was a pretty natural choice of song to perform here. It’s a really beautiful and emotional song, only more so if you know where it’s from, and often not just sung to put babies to sleep but recorded by well-known singers or performed by choirs. Here’s a choral arrangement; here’s singer Ragnheiður Gröndal.

[romanasanders]

The Price Of Joy

Read on AO3

Little branches cracked underneath the feet of a wanderer. But they seemed to know exactly where they were going: swiftly the young man descended the steep mountain on which the forest lay. In the distance, he could already hear the sound of the river, streaming down the hill with a thousand tiny waterfalls and one bigger one.

In their hand they clutched something shiny, that reflected the sunbeams streaming through the trees. "The trees protect us against avalanches.." He hummed softly, an old lullaby mom used to sing. "When, my children, will we thank them?" Their hand gripped the mossy surface of one of those protectors, using it to get down more easily down the rocky path.

Speaking of mom, she would heavily disapprove of the plan he'd made. Plan? It was more of an idea, really. A product from his overbearing curiosity and the possibility of something else. "Don't go to the waterfalls alone." She'd warned. "Most fairytales are made up, but those who aren't are dangerous." He remembered being a little boy, looking at her with big eyes. "Dangerous?" She confirmed. "Those spirits will trick you and take you away, forever."

He shaked his head at the memory and jumped down another rock. The place was difficult to find for someone that was just passing through the woods, but the boy knew his way because he'd visited this place once before. Before, when he still had someone to explore the woods with. Before, when he still had someone to pretend with, and fantasise if the animals they saw were more than they seemed.

Finally, he saw what he was looking for. A clearing, where the mountain creek widened and its water fell down with a thunderlike noise. Then the water gathered in a pond filled with large, mossy rocks before resuming its journey farther down the mountain.

One of the rocks on the riverside was different from the others: a bunch of tiny objects were left here by humans. Glass, beads, shells and even some money lay on the primitive altar as either a gift, offering or a distraction.

"For the Mother." the village people always claimed piously, but the boy knew that it really was for meant for the inhabitants of the forest, that lived here long before humans did. No one knew if they still did. It was a fairytale that the boy hoped still contained a speck of truth.

With a slightly shaking hand- shaking, why was he shaking- the boy put an offering of his own among the others. A gem, black but still glistening in the sunlight, found in the creek not far from here. It was precious, not just because it was rare but because the memories of laughter and imagination and playing until sunset were tied to it. He thought it seemed appropriate.

Then, he turned towards the river and slowly walked towards the swirling water, internally questioning if he should get rid of his shoes. Instead, he climbed on one huge rock and hopped towards the next one, and the one behind that, until he stood in the middle of the river.

A moment passed. The boy felt the water slowly dampen his clothes. Nothing had happened. So he waited. And looked around, between the trees on the other side, to catch a glimpse of something, anything that would prove that this hadn't been for nothing. But the river kept streaming and the leaves kept rustling in the wind like they had done before.

A dreadful feeling started to curl in his stomach. It was useless, a fairytale, he was looking like a fool hoping for a miracle. Shoulders slouched with disappointment, he made his way back to the riverside and looked at the makeshift shrine again. His rock glittering amidst the miscellaneous things: almost as if it was mocking him. Of course nothing happened. Of course the stories had been just stories all along. Hadn't he learned by now to not hope for miracles? He reached out to take the gem again.

"It's rude to take back a gift, you know."

Startled, the young man turned around to see who had spoken. Nobody was there. His heart was thumping loudly, but he gathered his courage. "Show yourself!" A terrible thought crept in the back of his head: what if someone had seen him and was mocking his attempt?

A chuckle sounded, this time from another side and the boy shifted, with his back against the rock and his eyes shooting back and forth, trying to spot who was messing with him.

"'Don't leave yet, I don't get many visitors." The voice came from atop the rock against which he had been leaning. Startled, he turned around swiftly and took a few steps back.

And indeed: there was a strange creature. The boy's eyes grew big: a Fae, or fairy, with light grey skin and darker grey across their torso and arms. They leaned on their elbows and hands with razor sharp long claws. A wide grinning mouth, and pointed ears. Thick, messy hair so light it could be white, and their eyes were seemingly too big, completely black and glistening in the sunbeams like his rock gift.

"Well hello there.." The Fae purred. "What's your name, human visitor?" The boy kept eye contact, but didn't say a word. He wasn't stupid. "Very clever.." The fairy sighed, sliding off the rock slowly until their feet touched the ground. They were wearing a gown made of a strange, see-through fabric that looked extremely soft and moved like it was underwater, trailing behind them. As well as a tail, ensuring the human that this certainly wasn't one of his own kind. The Fairy was longer than he had expected, towering above him. "I guess I will need to call you something else. Let's see.."

Their gaze went over the human. "You're such a brave soul," they hummed,"coming to seek me out all alone." That grin again, too wide and too many sharp teeth. "Like a prince."

'Prince' was fine. The boy nodded and let out a breath, feeling less startled than before. Still, he had to stay alert. The voice at the back of his head screamed at him that he didn't think this through well enough.

The fairy turned to the altar, attention caught by the black gem. "I assume you didn't come here just to talk." They hummed. "Humans are good enough for that."

"I want to ask a favour." Prince heard themselves say, even though he was uncertain if he just shouldn't bolt and get away from the waterfalls as quickly as possible. But the Fae turned around and once again, the boy felt like being caught in their gaze like a deer in the light.

"A favour! What kind of favour, my brave prince?" The Fae came closer, but didn't move their feet: almost like they were floating a tiny bit above the ground. "Riches? Fame? Good looks?" Prince hadn't moved, and the Fae's face came closer and closer. "Although I'd say you already have that last one." Prince held his breath and time seemed to slow down as the two locked eyes.

Then the Fae moved away again, and the spell was broken. Spell.. prince reminded himself. Keep focused. "I.. I want to be happy again." The Fae, stalking around him, widened his big eyes. Prince hadn't thought they could do that. "Happy? What do you mean?" The prince shrugged, words failing him as he looked up at the other.

"For a mortal, you're so young." The Fae berated him. "Still your eyes are filled with sadness." The prince sighed and slid down, sitting on the moss. His clothes were already moist anyway. He pulled his knees up.

"When I and my brother were young, we always played here in the forest. We looked for animals, climbed the fallen trees and pretended branches were swords."

The Fae floated down in a cross-legged position, listening with attention. Prince continued. "We could run around for hours, until the sun came down and we had to go home. I… I miss that feeling of freedom, of exploring and being anything you want to be. I miss playing, I miss-"

His voice cracked with emotion. "I wish I could feel that again." The Fae had been listening, but there came a frown on their features. "You want me to turn back your age?" "No no no-" the prince said. "It's just.. my life has become so dull and.. stressful, at the same time. It's not what I thought it would be… It's like I'm trapped."

"Joy can so easily be lost by humans. They say things like 'growing up' are important.." A chuckle from the Fae. "But look at me. I'm as old as the mountains and I've never grown up."

Prince sniffed, then looked up at the other. "But.. can you give me something? A spell or something I can eat, so I can have that experience?" The Fae tutted at him. "It's much easier, my adventurous prince. Everything you need is inside of you already." They leaned forward with a smile, and their hand touched the humans' chest.

The prince let them, tears rolling down both his cheeks. "But it won't be the same.. never again. Not without a.. companion."

A moment of silence, only the waterfall, the leaves and the soft wooshing of the Fae's garment. The prince looked up, and the creature seemed in thought.

"I can't bring back your brother.. not unless he wants to. But I can do something else, with the magic I have." The Fae said thoughtfully. Prince rubbed his face with his sleeve. "Please." He whispered.

"Magic isn't something to play with, human." They hummed. "Do you really want to do this?"

Prince looked the other way, back to the river now filled with dreams and wishes. If he refused now, he'd probably never get another chance.. "What will you do?"

Another sigh from the Fae, sounding slightly irritated. A moment of silence, then Prince felt the sharp nails underneath his chin, forcing him to look back at them. "You're beautiful." The Fae mused. "And desperate for joy and companionship. I could take you with me, and you'll be happy forever."

"Take.. me with you?" Prince stammered, slightly overwhelmed by how upfront the creature was. They nodded. "Make your choice, Princey."

"What about.. the people that know me? They'll come and look for me." The Fae stared into his eyes. "When I take you with me they'll forget you. Your name, your existence- nobody will miss you."

Prince took a deep breath. That was a lot to take in. But.. to be happy again? To be together with someone who.. seemed so eager to be with him? It wasn't like he had much to lose. Nothing but a dull, difficult life and people who probably wouldn't even notice him being gone, even without a fairy spell.

"I'll do it." It was barely more than a whisper, but the Fae jumped up and clapped his hands. "Wonderful!" They exclaimed. "My beautiful husband to be, take my hand!"

Prince had to chuckle at that, feeling his cheeks warm at the affectionate display. He extended his hand and got pulled on his feet by the fairy, who was stronger than they looked. Immediately, he was held tightly by the creature's arms as they twirled around across the river end.

And for the first time in what seemed like ages, Prince felt laughter bubbling in his chest, and he laughed. Laughed at the wild dance and the Fae that was holding him securely dispite their movements. Laughed genuinely at how safe he felt, warnings long forgotten as he gazed into the fairy's black eyes that were sparkling with affection.

The pair came to a standstill, catching their breath and looking in each others' eyes. The Fae had a playful grin on their face, and their hand came up to stroke the humans' face. "Could you imagine dancing like that every night, my love?" Prince chuckled and nodded, completely lost in the bliss he felt.

"One final, tiny thing my valorous prince." The Fae gigged, a high-pitched sound between the trees that sounded like a bird. "To take you back to my realm, I will need your name~ your real one."

The human whined softly, something soft in the back of his mind telling him this wasn't a good idea. But he had forgotten why, and the desire to get back to the high of dancing became too strong..

"R-roman." He stammered. "My name is Roman." The face of the Fae light up, and he cupped the humans' face. "That's all I need, my dear prince Roman."

And the two kissed, passionately, still surrounded by the sound of the waterfalls and its damp mist. Roman couldn't care less.

And just a heartbeat later, the clearing was empty. A black gem was glittering on the altar, a silent witness reflecting the sunbeams falling through the trees.