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twosidesofthesameidiot · 4 years

Text

You Had Me At Cupcake

Characters : Gwen; Lancelot

Warnings: none

Word count : 1325

Summary : Gwen has a paper due in two days, and the really distracting new barista is the only one on duty today. Gwencelot Coffee Shop AU

A/N: Well, there is my first attempt at a coffee shop AU. Ngl, it was difficult at times. The biggest thank you to @rangerofthesouth for helping me through this, and for the name! ILY, bro.

This falls under the meet-cute, i think

Gwen shook the snow from her hair and shoes as she pushed open the door of The Cryptic Dragon.

The warmth was nearly too much after the biting winds outside and she hurried to take off her thick coat.

Coat removed, Gwen felt comfortably warm, with sensation returning to her toes, fingers and nose.

She dropped her coat on the back of her chair and her bag on the table.

Today was very obviously a slow day for the - place.

Gwen had never found a word that quite described The Cryptic Dragon. Some, like Merlin's friend Gwaine, might call it a pub. Others, like Elena, might call it a café. Disreputable, Fine Dining Establishment, a front for an elaborate pyramid scheme, and a waste of space are among the other categories she has encountered in relation to the place.

To Gwen it was a perfect place to work. As long as she ordered a drink every now and then she was left to work through her never-ending mountain of assignments.

It helped that one of her best friends worked here and was the owner's nephew.

What did not help, however, was the newest barista/waiter. He was very unhelpful in that he was distracting. Not that he was actively being so, just his presence was enough.

He was Merlin's friend. Best friend, probably, from the way they went on. From what Gwen had seen, Merlin was actually open with him. The smiles were genuine in a way that Gwen rarely saw around other people.

That was the first thing Gwen had noticed about the distracting new addition to the team.

The second thing she had noticed was his smile, it was a real smile which reached his eyes. And his eyes were really very pretty.

His voice was amazing too.

Gwen had almost forgotten that she was meant to be giving him her order, that first time, and was truly grateful that Merlin had not been there to witness the scene.

And he was coming out from the kitchen now with a tray of fresh cinnamon rolls.

His emergence roused the three other people who were there and they immediately lined up at the counter as Gwen made her way slowly to join them, praying that Merlin would magically appear and save her from this situation.

Merlin, the traitor, did not appear and Gwen was left to manage the interaction as best she could.

"Hi," his voice was every bit as musical as she remembered, "Gwen, right?"

He knew her name?

"Uhh, yeah, that's me." Gwen twisted her rings trying to think of what to say next, "I, uh, I don't think we've met?"

"Oh, no we haven't," his eyes widened and he grimaced, "sorry! That sounded really creepy. I'm Lance, Merlin's friend."

Gwen took the extended hand, he - Lance - had a good grip, and his hand was warm, "I'm Gwen, but you already know that. How do you know Merlin?"

"We met in high school," Lance looked at her for a moment, "I don't know how much you know about that, um, and you? How long have you known him?"

"We met first year uni, I watched him get into and almost win a fight against Arthur Pendragon," Gwen smiled, "I helped him with the minor injuries sustained because his uncle would kill him if he found out."

"Gauis might have," Lance shrugged, "But then, where would he get staff on short notice?"

There was now a tray with a cinnamon roll and a mug of hot chocolate on it sitting atop the counter.

Noticing Gwen's look of surprise Lance grinned, "Merlin left very specific instructions, said you have a paper due in two days."

He was on the other side of the counter now, picking up the tray.

Falling into step with him, Gwen frowned, "Where is he? He's usually working today."

"Terribly sorry m'lady, but that is information I cannot divulge at the present time," He shrugged apologetically although his tone was anything but.

Realising that she was back at her table, with sustenance Gwen shook her head, "Thank you, Lance."

"My pleasure, just call if you need anything."

Gwen watched him disappear back into the kitchen before she sat down.

The hours slipped away and the next time Gwen took stock of her surroundings there were a few more people filling up the tables that were haphazardly strewn about the room.

Her paper was nearly done. All that was left was to go over it a few times and fine tune it, and that could wait until tomorrow.

When she returned from the washroom, she found Freya waiting at the counter and joined her, deciding today was not the day to go home and cook something.

Lance appeared with a bowl of stew which he handed to Freya, nested in a dishtowel.

"What kind of stew is that? I don't think I've ever seen it here before?" Gwen shot a questioning look at Lance who smiled.

"It's special, off the menu if you like. What can I get for you Gwen? Merlin didn't leave instructions for lunch."

"I'm still surprised he left instructions at all."

Gwen looked at Freya in surprise, "You knew he left instructions?"

"Lance told me, before he went to get my stew." she shrugged, "You should get today's special."

"Uh, okay, I'll meet you back at my table."

"I'll bring it to you, you don't have to wait here."

"Thanks!" Gwen had barely finished the word before Lance disappeared into the kitchen.

"You know Lance?" Gwen couldn't keep the curiosity out of her voice.

"Mm, yeah," Freya nodded, "we've known each other for a long time now."

"You have?" Having reached the table, Gwen collected her papers and pens that lay on top of it.

"Yeah," Freya smiled as she sat down, "We met Merlin separately though, none of us connected the dots for a while. How's your paper?"

Gwen shook her head. For as long as she'd known Merlin and Freya, they both had remained so vague about anything that happened in their pasts. "It's almost ready, and for now it's tomorrow's problem."

"Your meal, m'lady," Lance placed a plate of spaghetti bolognaise in front of Gwen, and a coffee.

"Thank you," Gwen smiled at him.

"As before, my pleasure."

"Huh, Merlin was right," Freya watched Lance weaving his way around the tables as he checked on the customers.

"About what?" Gwen asked.

Freya smiled at her, "Don't worry about that. What are you doing this weekend?"

Lunch passed comfortably and Gwen felt decidedly more relaxed than she had that morning.

Eventually she and Freya made their way to the counter to pay. When they had finished Lance tossed a securely wrapped takeaway box to Freya who immediately put it in her bag.

"This one is on the house," Lance smiled as he handed Gwen a box with a bow on it, "Let me know if you like it?"

"It's for Húan," Freya said as they stepped out of The Cryptic Dragon, "Gauis disproves of him getting human food, but burnt biscuits don't seem to negatively affect him, so Lance and Merlin smuggle him stuff."

"You feed your dog Merlin's experiments too ?" Gwen asked.

Freya laughed, "No, that could actually be dangerous."

Now safely ensconced in Gwen's car, Freya turned to her, "What's yours?"

"I don't know," Gwen gently pulled on the ribbon forming the bow on top of the box, "Let's find out."

She lifted the lid off the small box. There was writing on the inside of the lid, but the cupcake was what caught her attention.

The icing was a deep red and there were golden letters on it.

Freya somehow read the word before Gwen did and let out a giggle.

"Well, what do you think?"

"I think, if you hold this for a moment," Gwen handed the box to Freya and opened her phone, grinning, "I have a date this weekend."

#Gwencelot #gwen #lacelot #bbc merlin #bbc merlin fanfic #Lance writes #gwenfest #coffeeshop au

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ofdragonsdeep · 3 years

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11: Preaching to the Choir

None would have disagreed on the matter of Lord Haurchefant's virtues.

(HW spoilers, character death mention, grief, all that jazz)

The bitter chill of the Coerthas winds did little to salve the ache as Ar’telan walked the familiar path from the Gates of Judgement to Camp Dragonhead. A soft snowfall had set in with the evening, clouds crowding out the stars, and he rubbed his hands together for warmth as he went.

The guard on the gate straightened as Ar’telan approached, then relaxed as recognition set in. He was nodded in, no words spoken between them, but even in the flickering firelight of the meagre torch that marked his station, Ar’telan could see the red around his eyes.

The atmosphere was muted. Despite the ever-present threat, no knights milled about save for the guard up on the ramparts, and the courtyard was entirely free of the adventurers it usually gathered. Up by the aetheryte, there was only the silhouetted form of the foreign-born man who worked on the cannons without cease, and Inquisitor Brigie, leaning against the wall and staring out into the middle distance. She did not see him pass, and he was not keen to alert her, in the circumstances.

The heavy wood and iron doors to the keep opened with a scrape and creak of protest, and the few knights within looked up as he walked inside. Even now, weeks after it had happened, it felt like a twist of the heart to look at the empty chair on the other side of the desk.

“Ar’telan. It’s… it’s good to see you,” Yaelle remarked, offering a weak smile, one of the more genuine ones he had seen of late. Corentiaux rubbed the back of his hand against his eyes, gathering himself.

“We wondered when we might see you here. Are… are you staying long?” he asked. Ar’telan sighed.

“I don’t know. Maybe,” he replied, which felt pathetic in the moment. A young astrologian deviated from the stacks of records to pull out a chair for him without a word, and he sat in it haltingly, afraid of appearing rude. “I wouldn’t want to- to impose. After…” Yaelle shook her head.

“You will always be welcome here. It’s what- what he would have wanted,” she remarked, her voice remarkably level across it all. Ar’telan took a deep breath, and held in the sadness. He was here now. He had waited - no, he had come here as soon as the chase against King Thordan had allowed, but he had left soon after, not able to stand it. He had waited until the dust had settled on that part of the war, until he had felt like there had been some kind of recompense, until he could bear to look the people of the camp in the eye and not collapse under the weight of the guilt of it all.

“We won’t turn you out into the snow. Make yourself at home,” Corentiaux agreed. “You have missed mess, I will allow, but there will be something in the pot for you.” Ar’telan swallowed back the grief.

“Thank you. I… I will try not to intrude,” he managed, feeling the weight of his reasons in the pack he carried. If they wanted to see it, he would let them do it on their own terms, not ones that might soothe his wounds.

As if anything could have soothed them.

---

The young roegadyn woman who was a cheerful constant of the mess hall looked up with a spectre of panic on her face as the door opened. She had been reserved when Ar’telan had first spoken to her, but over the moons she had opened up, her heart boundless in its love. She was… not coping well.

“Ar’telan. The knights didn’t… oh, I’m so sorry, I haven’t…” she tried, before choking back a sob and turning to hide it in the pot on the stove. “Y-you must be hungry. I-I’ll make you something.” Ar’telan tried to disagree, pained by her distress, but she had so lost herself in the busywork of it that she saw none of his desperate hand signs. Resigned, he eased himself onto the edge of one of the benches, elbows on the table and head resting on his hands. They had always taken care of him at Camp Dragonhead, the way they took care of anyone in need who passed through their walls. It was a kindness that permeated every brick, every cobblestone, a smile easy on the face when your spirits were buoyed. They did it now in reflex, stumbling in uncertainty through every day that greeted them. Ar’telan couldn’t help but think back to the days before. He had been there for the internment of knights his healing arts had not been able to save, he had been cheered and encouraged and warmed by the fire that lit every soul within, from the boy who swept the stables to the loftiest knight.

It had hurt, to see knights he had broken bread with that morning in a coffin by the dusk. He had watched the lines of stoic soldiers, some weeping into the shoulders of their fellows as the bodies of their friends were borne past, towards Ishgard. None of it could have prepared him for the grip of the all-consuming grief that lay like a pall over Dragonhead’s heart. Glassy eyes that stared at nothingness, a soul walking with the Fury instead of among the living. And for what? A war without end for the dragons that Nidhogg had driven to madness with his incessant Song, the sins of long-forgotten fathers carved out into the hides of the sons. To bear home the news of the great wyrm’s death, a tragedy of man’s design, and be greeted with a refusal… a refusal to yield.

By Ishgardian hands, by Ishgardian blood. What was it worth?

“Here. I h-hope it’s still good,” Medguistl said, startling Ar’telan from his reverie.

“It will be fine. My thanks,” he said, taking the proffered bowl and setting it down on the table before him. She sat down opposite him, seeming to fold into the table under the weight of her own thoughts.

“It’s not fair,” she said, her voice muffled by wood and her arms. “All those h-horrible people and it had, it h-had to be him.” Ar’telan flinched at her words, staring down at the stew in front of him rather than offer an answer she would not be able to see. “After everything that happened, all the kind things he said, I can’t… I can’t imagine that I’ll never see his smile again. Nobody wants to talk about it. We can’t. It just… it hurts.” She sniffled, looking up at him with an apologetic look on her face. “I-I’m sorry. I-I think this is the last thing you need, t-today of all days. B-but…”

“You are allowed to grieve,” Ar’telan disagreed, the words weaving around the spoon he was holding. “Pretending that it doesn’t hurt won’t make it go away.” He bit his lip uncertainly, sharp canines finding the scar that traced down the side of it. “He would be flattered that he had… touched so many so deeply. Though I think he would rather you held a little cheer, when you can.” Medguistl nodded, sniffing back the rest of the tears.

“Th-thank you,” she said. “I know that we’ll… we’ll carry the memory forever. So maybe… maybe in a way he won’t be truly gone.” Ar’telan wished that it was in a way which mattered, but did not voice the sadness aloud.

“I owe my life to him. To all of you here, as well. So if there is anything I can do…” he began, but the chef shook her head, straightening up.

“You can eat, is what you can do, and maybe we’ll think about the rest afterwards,” she said, and Ar’telan wearily complied.

---

The trek up to Providence Point, lit now by the light of the morning, was made no easier despite the absence of the aevises that had once plagued the trail. The ruin of the Steel Vigil stretched up to greet the day, snow and crumbling rock falling from the edifice at the slightest wind, and to the west, the crest of the hill.

He had come up here before, many times. Not all of them with Haurchefant, but many of them. They had stood before the stone that bore the seal of Oschon, the Wanderer, and Ar’telan had wondered at its presence in a land which clung so stubbornly in place. Beyond the piled stones, the crest of the cliff offered a crystal-clear view of Ishgard and the Steps of Faith, the best place to observe her beauty from save for within the walls of the city herself.

The headstone was small, and unobtrusive. Snow had already settled atop it, a faint dusting of white to match that which plagued the entire land since the Calamity had struck. Ar’telan knelt down beside it, brushed his fingers over the name.

Haurchefant Greystone.

Though they had buried his body in the Fortemps family crypt, in his public monument he could not bear the name. It was so like Ishgard, a place so comfortingly familiar that he had almost felt sure in calling it home. As if Hydaelyn would have let him rest, when he still had work to do.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” said a familiar voice. Francel, the first truly kind person he had met in this frozen hellscape of a place after the massacre at the Waking Sands. “Though I suppose it should not be a surprise, should it?” He closed the distance between them, joining Ar’telan in kneeling down in the snow. In his hands, a bouquet of Nymeia lilies, of the kind of freshness only the son of a High House could afford. Ar’telan had laid them upon coffins before, but here Francel simply rested them on top of the snow, tears already beading at the corner of his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Ar’telan said, and Francel shook his head, rubbing the treacherous tears away with delicate fingers.

“No, no. You shouldn’t be,” he said. “He… he would be glad that you’d come. He always… always loved the view up here.” Ar’telan held his tongue on the memories, instead pulling the heavy pack from his back, and gently teasing the shield free from the canvas he had wrapped it in.

All the knights at the Camp had one like it. They adorned the walls of the keep, of the manor at House Fortemps, the arms of every person pledged to the house’s service. The gaping hole in this one, rent by a lance of pure aetherial light, was one he hoped the other shields would never see.

“The Count gave you this?” Francel asked, though he didn’t sound surprised. Ar’telan nodded, reaching out to rest it against the stone of the grave. If it could not protect him in life, it would at least watch him in death. “I’m glad. It’s… you should have had it,” Francel said, the words stiff and awkward in his mouth. “It never gets any easier, does it?” he asked, eyes on the city beyond the rise, across the void of wind that made the Sea of Clouds.

“No,” Ar’telan agreed, sitting back in the snow. “Different, maybe. But never easier.” Francel let out a long, low sigh.

“You will come back, won’t you?” he asked, a tremulous note to his voice. “To Ishgard. To us.” Ar’telan looked over in surprise at the question.

“If I am welcome,” he said, and Francel let out a single, disbelieving laugh.

“Welcome? Of course you are welcome. You helped to save us,” he said, shaking his head slightly at the idea. “All of us are hurting now, every one, but we would never turn you away. Not ever.” His eyes went back to the grave, his gaze lingering on the shield’s mortal wound. “I know you would never leave him behind, and he would not want you to. But I dont… I don’t want to bear this alone.” Ar’telan offered a smile.

“You are not alone. There is not a soul in the Highlands who does not know of Haurchefant’s grace,” he said, and Francel flopped backwards into a sitting position, as if actually hearing his name was a little too much.

“Have you spoken with the Count de Fortemps?” he asked. “After… After it all, I mean. When it wasn’t… When it wasn’t all too much.” Ar’telan sighed.

“Yes. I… I know he would not want me to leave,” he said, the first time he had voiced it aloud. “He said as much, but it is hard to believe it. Hard to let go of the feeling that I… That Haurchefant…”

“You will always have a home here,” Francel said, his voice quiet. “I would make sure of it, but I do not need to. Stay strong, my friend. Perhaps the grief will not fade, but the road will feel easier to walk in stride with another.” Ar’telan smiled slightly at the thought, his tail carving a little eddy in the snow as it swept from side to side.

“I would like that,” he agreed. It hurt, more than anything had a right to hurt, still aching as though Ser Zephirin’s lance had pierced his heart instead, but for the future - there was hope.

#We lasted two whole days and that is a record #ffxivwrite2021 #ff14 #m!WoLxHaurchefant #HW spoilers #If I'm not over it like five years later then nobody else gets to be either #Warrior of Light (solo story)#ps Francel is baby and I would die for him

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enigma-im · 4 years

Text

Can’t Fight This Feeling Anymore

Rating: Teen Relationship: Werewolf x M!Human Warning: Monster POV, angst, Misguided views of masculinity, soft boy we don’t deserve, fluff

Word Count: 3918

A Werewolf finds her mate during school, it’s not what she expected in a mate.

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It starts in the commons room. The smell of autumn, just near Halloween. Crisp, clean air- though it's a little more than that. Like a pumpkin pie baking in the oven while the October breeze blows through the open windows. It's comforting, the aroma bringing nothing but contentment. Makes me wanna find the source and snuggle up under a blanket near it. I have never had such a smell rest in my lungs like this. Every part of my body feels alive with ever inhale.

It fades during first period but comes back around during lunch. I try to ignore it, conversing with friends as a distraction, but it's very persuasive in it's lingering. I begin to grow anxious as the day continues, bouncing my leg during class while biting my fingers. All of me wants to jump up and run about till I find it. I nearly do just that before the bell rings.

Final period is when it’s the strongest. It's almost suffocating in a mouth-watering way. I take in greedy breaths as I lounge against my chair in civics class. I lazily look around the room, feeling like a basking cat in the warm rays of the sun. my eyes stutter over some gent resting in the front row. Lanky, black hair, average style, completely unremarkable. Though his plainness does nothing to deter me.

I study him, picking apart every detail as he demands my attention. I look at his black curly hair, visions of running my fingers through it rush my head. I can almost feel the strands slipping over my knuckles. Feel the tug of minuscule tangles on my digits. The thought is jarring.

My body feels excited looking at him, practically giddy looking at this lad. I want to walk over and talk to him, what I wouldn't give to hear him speak. I bet he has a deep voice, a rich bass. I get my chance when he is called on by the teacher, answering their question with that satisfying octave. I almost purr at its all-encompassing embrace.

I don’t know what this man is doing to me but it seems I could care less. His presence- though not near enough- is all too comforting. I try to think about it but my brain rolls in oxytocin, ladling cups full over itself every time he talks.

The bell ringing is a startling sound. I jump, hitting my knee against my table with a loud thud. People barely pay mind as they gather their things to leave. A friend eyes me with a knowing grin. Still trying to catch up with how class felt only ten minutes long I just regard them confused.

"So you found them," they ask.

"What?"

They scoff," Your mate, you found them? Or perhaps you have some of the good stuff and your holding out on me."

I scoff along with them, utterly confused," What are you going on about, Patrick?"

"Are you joshing me right now," he gawks," You are sitting there high as a kite on the smell of your mate. I've seen that exact look on my brother when he found his at a wedding we went to for another friend." my mind flows with thoughts, trying to delay the inevitable. It all fit together once he said it. Mate. That plain Jane sitting in front of the class is supposed to be my mate. A nerdy, lanky, pasty teen that could never keep up with the likes of me. Hell, he is just some human! How could some weak boy be paired with someone like me? I was meant to have a big powerful man. A body that oozes power, a stature that demands attention. I deserve a man, not a boy.

Patrick rattles on about heaven know what while I deny everything my body is telling me. I come up with every excuse in the book till I label every reaction to something ridiculous. With too much ire is shoot out of my seat and storm off to my car. I need to clear my head for a while.

The week fills with intoxicating scents and denial. It's extremely frustrating talking in circles with myself about something I feel is already dealt with. He is nothing to me, simple as that. He could never be on my level and clearly a handicap in any relationship we may have. As clear a stop my decision is it has a tendency to come full circle when I catch a whiff or see him in the halls. God, that smell will always make my heart swell and my mind melt.

One day that poor lad talks to me, asking a simple enough question about an assignment. The words that spilled from my mouth tasted bitter before they left the tip of my tongue. In some sort of crude about way I answer him defensively, projecting my inner turmoil into hateful words. From strangers to more in just a few words. Someone I deemed nothing to me became a victim to my ire. I began bulling the lanky teen.

I hated myself every time I spat hateful slurs or punishing quips at him. Not even in a heartfelt way but in a way that I disrespected someone on any level. I was harsh in my everyday life, it tends to come with the territory, but I was never mean for the sake of being mean. That exactly what I'm doing, spewing my anger of the situation to someone that despite everything didn't deserve it.

I find out through the week that his name is Lance, a straight-A, gym hating, bug fearing, nerdy teen. He is nice to everyone he meets and has taken to socializing himself up the high school popularity ladder. No one took advantage of him and treated him well enough. Despite his deep love for all thing fantasy he was never ridiculed for it, he was just too sweet to tease. With that, I become to school bitch. Oh, the irony.

"Alright, I can’t take it. Why are you so closed off lately," Patrick asks. I stop glaring out at the tree line and turn towards him. I see my reflection in his sunglasses, hating to see how casually I look lounging back against the picnic table.

"What," I feign ignorance. Patrick huffs, turning away to also lounge against the picnic table.

"For someone who found their soulmate you are being an emotionally unavailable bitch. Hell, you are teasing that poor Lance dude from algebra. Like, what in god's name did he do to you?"

I stiff at the mention of Lance, balling my fist and biting my cheek. "Why don't we talk about something else?"

"For what? I'm tired of this, what happened? Did your mate reject you? Is this why you are being a class A bitch? If so, I'm here to listen. It can be painful to know your mate doesn't want you. If you like I can go kick their ass, show em what's what," Patrick rambles. In his wrong assumption, he does strike a chord with me. I finally acknowledge this from Lance's view.

Startled in my new line of thought I rise from my seat and walk back inside. Patrick sits up, watching me go, but does nothing else.

I walk all the way to the library, resting in some off corner to stew in my developing views. I never realized how Lance may be feeling, well besides how it feels to be bullied. I already felt like trash but its way worse now. Lance may not be able to tell like I can what we mean to each other but humans tend to have a sense about these things. How he must feel to have this strange pull to me that results in constant berating. It's easier for me to cast him aside not knowing what his feelings may be. I feel even worse now.

I startle when I feel a tear roll down my face, the weeks worth of frustration finally wrenching free from my chest. Where one tear rolls, another follows. Soon I'm balling into my forearms while I scrunch up in the corner. It hurts knowing I'm hurting my mate. It hurts thinking about how he must feel, viewing me as this monster I surely am. It hurts knowing how superficial I've been.

Lance, he proved himself to be quiet adept at being a social butterfly, showing great compassion and worth in his daily actions. Not being a typical man, showing off his strength and wealth, but being a real man. He is caring and opens with his fellow students, not leaving anyone behind. Hell, I've even seen him tutor some of the tennis players during lunch. He is just a good guy.

My ear ringing from my realization of ideocracy that I don't hear the quiet taps of shoes on tile. I jump when I feel a hand rest on my shoulder. I bolt upright staring up at the beautiful brown eyes of Lance.

Stubbornly I wipe my tears away," What do you want?" he seems to struggle with his answer, perhaps debating on high tailing it out of here. He settles on squatting down and sitting in front of me.

"I heard sniffling, I got curious," he answers as he rests his arms on his knees. I admire him for a moment. He is so adorable. I always imagined my mate to be drop-dead sexy and droll worthy but Lance isn't that. He is just…cute.

"Well, sorry for being too loud then," I begin to stand," I'll just be on my way then."

Lance raises a hand, stopping me, "No! please, what's wrong?" I glare at his extended hand, viewing all my options for the moment. My body screams to stay, keep close to my mate, but my brain shouts run.

I settle back down.

"What's wrong? Why were you crying," he asks with his well known sympathetic eyes.

I scoff, turning away," Why should it matter? I can't imagine you are too eager to have a heart to heart with your bully."

"Actually, I feel that would be the number one person I'd love to have a heart to heart with," he tries to catch my eyes. I side glance him but hold firm.

"Well, don't expect that here. I was just having a bad day," I brush him off though the truth rests firmly on the tip of my tongue.

"Well then, tell me about it," he gives a quick smile. My heart flutters, my eyes trail over his lips. I find myself in a bit of a trance.

"I realized something I did wrong," I answer vaguely.

"What did you do wrong?"

"I hurt someone I should care about."

"that happens sometimes. What are you going to do about it?"

"I'm not sure, I feel I fucked up big time," as I answer I can feel the skin on my spine tighten.

"Well, I know the best place to start is with 'I'm sorry' then go from there. Who did you hurt, if you don't mind sharing?"

I open my mouth to answer, the words 'you' almost slipping from my lips. As I sit across from him I can feel the telltale signs of morphing. My nails prick at my palms and I feel my ears part my hair as they stretch. My clothes feel tight as I enlarge. I hardly notice it over the view of him lounging casually across from me. Looking at him feels like a lock is being opened. Almost in a snap, a whimper leaves my throat and tears run down my cheeks.

"I'm sorry," I hiccup. I quickly fold in half over my legs, clenching at my chest as my back feels like it's tearing. I whimper some more as my clothes tear. I faintly hear Lance gasp over my rushing feelings.

Soon I find myself clawing at the tiled floor on all fours. I snap my eyes up to a surprisingly kept together Lance. Meeting his eyes I let lose another whimper, digging my nails into the tiles. Lance tilts his head, looking sympathetically at me before opening his arms. Quickly I flop down onto his lap, my head pressed against his stomach, claws scratching at his back. He rests his arms over my shoulders, petting along my spine as I whimper and whine.

"It's ok," he coos," I'm not mad." I cry out, clutching at his clothes knowing I'm probably ripping his jacket. It's a relief to hear those words but god it feels like I don't deserve them. He comforts and coos, letting me tire myself out.

I soon settle enough to revert to human -well, mostly human. I still keep the long teeth and pointed ears, even some sprouts of hair. I turn in his lap, rest my back to the floor to look up at him. Lance removes his jacket, draping it over my modesty. Covering the shredded clothes and revealed skin. He then meets my eyes with a cocked brow, asking without words.

I don't answer, instead of raising a hand to cup his cheek. I feel the heat and slight stubble on my palm.

"You seem pretty relaxed for someone who had a werewolf in their lap," I try to joke. It's enough for him to huff in amusement.

"It's not the first time," he answers. I read too far into, growling at the idea of another person in his lap. He pokes at my side," Not what I meant. My best friend is a werewolf. Having seen him howl at the moon like an idiot will make you less afraid of big dogs."

I scoff," Big dogs, shut up."

"I hope you are aware you are a big dog. A big dog that cried in my lap, would you be so kind as to explain that one," he asks. I stiffen, remembering why I was acting a fool to begin with. My teeth pinch at my lip as the stress overwhelms me.

"Hey," he snaps," relax. I'm just trying to figure out something that been bothering me since we met. My friend tried to explain it but I rather hear it from you."

I glare up at him," What do you know?" I begin to sit up, clenching his jacket to me, but he keeps me down.

"Well, I think I can answer with a question," he starts cryptically," am I your mate?"

I choke on my breath. It seems he knows enough.

"Yes," I hold my breath.

"Oh."

"oh?"

"Yes, oh," he teases," as in that answers a lot of things then."

"Like what?"

"Like how even when you call me four-eyed Steve Buscemi, I still pop a boner," he laughs. I find myself covering my mouth while chuckling.

"What," I nearly shout.

"Every time you are around my body lights up, it's insane. Like, I'm a teenager but I feel as an 18 y/o that I would be mostly past instant erections. Though even when you insult my interest and hobbies I still want nothing more than kiss you," he beams down at me. His smile is illuminating.

"Is that right," I find myself teasing.

"Yes, and it was startling to want you so bad though you were being…rude-"

"You can say bitch, I'm aware of what I was being."

He sighs," Yea, you were a bitch. That being said, my main question is why? If I was to be your mate, why were you so mean to me?"

"Cause I'm stupid," I wince," lots of bullshit."

"Like what," he pushes," I really gotta know what's wrong here. My buddy tried to explain this to me and I can't really wrap my head around it. Like if we are meant to be complementary to each other then why are you so mean? I didn't do anything to you so I can't even begin to fathom why you would bully your mate." his tone breaks the comforting air he brought, switching the setting to confrontational. It seems I may have been right, he has some feelings about this. It sets the ache in my chest to high gear, grinding my lungs up as my heart squeezes.

"I'm sorry," I sit up, pressing his jacket close to my chest. I want to bring the fabric to my nose and breath in his warming scent. Now isn't the time. I rest on my knees, not being able to hold eye contact for longer than mere seconds.

"Was I not good enough," he asks timidly," Did you not like what you saw?"

I swallow hard," at the time."

Lance sighs," so you don't want me?"

I shoot forward, holding out a hand," No! well… I didn't, before. Now it's different."

"Now it's different," he scowls," You can just decide these things like that? One opinion one minute then another later? I'm not someone to be toyed with, I have feelings."

"I know! It wasn't going to be like that, I was just being an idiot to begin with," I answer quickly. The stress piles on, falling heavily on my back. I wince when my nails dig through his jacket into my chest. I faintly notice the hairs on my hand thickening. "I'm so sorry, Lance. I was being ridiculous and completely unfair. Please don't be mad," I whimper. My chest aches, my skin burns, my eyes feel heavy. It seems only fitting to wallow in this for the time being.

"Hey," Lance leans forward," Let's calm down, ok? It's easier to explain a half-naked woman over a large werewolf."

I take a few breaths, shaking as each exhale. "I don't think I can."

"Come on, babe, take deep breaths," he pets on my back. I collapse at the affection, whimpering in his lap again like a beaten dog.

"I'm sorry. I wasn't fair to you," I cry against his chest," I was hateful and mean about something I couldn't control. You are enough, you are worthy. I'm the one who shouldn't get a chance, shouldn't be enough for you. God, you were so nice to everyone and caring. I judged you at face value, I'm so shallow. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

Lance sat quietly while I whined and wailed against him. I have never felt more undeserving of such an intimacy, a luxury to be held and cared for. He should leave, turn, and never look back at the sad-sack wailing over him. It would be fitting, to be left behind like how I wanted to leave him. I can't comprehend why he would still be here now. Fuck, I don't deserve him.

Lance held me close, letting me fill out another pity fest. He kept quiet, just stroking over my head.

"You know, as mad as I should be I'm not that angry," he chuckles," I know I should be after hearing my mate thought I wasn't good enough but I can't bring myself to care. Hearing and seeing you beat yourself up about it feels like enough. Though I hate seeing you so distraught, even if you did say Warhammer was dumb." I huff, not believing he could find humor at a time like this. His words still settle me, bringing a sense of calm to the storm.

I sit out of his hold, looking over him. He gives a friendly smile, testing the waters a bit as I try to read him. He shouldn't be so forgiving. I surely haven't earned it. Wailing into his chest and taking all the comfort he gives me is definitely not the path to redemption. I am being selfish in taking what he gives me with his open and kind heart.

"Don't," I say.

"Don't?"

"Don't forgive me, not so easily at least," I clench his jacket," I haven't earned it. I have to earn that."

He scoffs," No you don't. it's ok, really."

"No, it's not," I nearly shout," I literally didn't believe you were enough. I thought you were some boy compared to the man I wanted. I wanted some stereotypical macho man with big muscles and a beard. Instead, I got paired with a lanky lad who can't even catch a basketball. I saw you as weak, some human who would weigh me down."

"But, you don't believe that now," he asks hopefully. The guarding wince of his shoulders makes mine fall.

"Of course not. I think you're charming and sweet. You have the biggest heart of anyone I have ever met, taking care of nearly everyone in our grade and then some. You tutor anyone who needs help, you lend an ear to anyone struggling, you let me cry on you though I was nothing but mean to you," I blink back tears," I don't deserve you. You are too sweet and smart for someone like me who thought you weren't enough. I'm the one who isn't enough. Fuck, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I can't imagine how confusing it must have been to be drawn to me and rejected by me. Lance, i-"

I startle at the hands cradling my face then the lips pressing against mine. I stare ahead wide-eyed, confused above all else. Lance doesn't part just yet, carding his fingers through my hair as gentle as possible. Not looking a gift horse in the mouth I react. Reaching up and finally feeling his soft strands gliding over my knuckles while sucking on his lip.

Lance pulls back first, leaving me to awkwardly trail after him. He chuckles as I lean back, shifting his jacket up to my neck.

"I never got to shut someone up with a kiss before, I'd have to say it makes me feel a little powerful to see you so flustered," he teases.

I hide my face in his jacket," Shut up."

"Not yet," he grabs my hands. He lowers the jacket to my neck then cups my cheeks," I think it's my turn to talk?"

I nod.

"Ever since I first saw you I have been nothing but confused. I don't care for being so conflicted over some girl, you made my world tilt a bit. Now that I have all the pieces I can confidently say that I still like you and want to give this a try. What you did hurt, but I get it. Your world tilted a bit too, I can understand how that can make someone a bit angry or scared. I mean I was a mess for a while till my buddy explained it. So I say I forgive you because now I know what it all means and I know you will make it up to me. Like going out this weekend with my buddy and me to a movie. Though I'm sure you will definitely learn your lesson after my friend gives you a talking. I can't stop him and neither can you so it's best we get it out of the way," he smiles," sound like a plan?"

I stare at lance for a moment. I felt I had a plan somewhere in the middle of this conversation. Everything was out in the open and I planned to win him over, dealing with the reprimands of my transgressions before really seeing where this will go. Now everything is sitting at an angle, confusing and wrong. I truly do not deserve him.

But I can work on that.

"Friday then," I ask.

"Friday is perfect."

---------------------

Starts off as a story on how woman can also be the problem with how toxic masculinity works. which is true, we shouldn’t pressure or make men feel bad because they aren’t “manly” enough. sometimes men are scared of bugs and that’s ok. towards the end it just became some fluff cause im a sap.

Check out my Archive | Masterlist | Main Blog

#werewolf girlfriend #werewolf #Monster #monster girlfriend #Enigma-IM #exophilia #fluff #angst #Lance the werewolf fucker

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raywritesthings · 4 years

Text

I Want

My Writing Fandom: Arrow Characters: Oliver Queen, Laurel Lance, Sara Lance, Tommy Merlyn, Raisa, Quentin Lance Pairing: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen (pre-relationship/childhood crush) Summary: Young Ollie gets a change in perspective when he overhears a girl named Laurel's wish list to Santa Claus. *Can also be read on AO3, link is in bio*

Oliver bounced on the balls of his feet, trying not to look too impatient. Good kids probably weren’t impatient, after all. But he was so close to getting to tell Santa what he wanted!

Every year, either Raisa or Mrs. Merlyn took him and Tommy to the mall to read Santa Claus their Christmas lists. This year, it was Raisa accompanying them. She stood to the side by all the other parents, smiling when Oliver caught her eye. He gave a little wave, then refocused his attention on the line. There was one girl ahead of him and another in Santa’s lap who was reciting her list off the top of her head. And it was a long one.

“I want a new dolly, too. The arm came off my last one. And I wanna pet. Like a shark or something cool. We went to the aquarium this year, and I got a stuffed toy, but it’s not the same as a real one.”

Santa laughed but Oliver wanted to groan. Could she hurry up already!

“And,” the girl added, “I want my own room. My sister, Laurel, she stays up reading and it keeps me up. That’s naughty, right Santa?”

“Sara!” The girl ahead of him in line shouted. She had blond hair like her sister, but there were some darker shades mixed in that were almost brown. It was a pretty blend of colors, Oliver thought to himself, watching the back of her head.

“Honey,” a man with bedraggled hair cautioned the girl in line, who tucked her head in and fell silent.

“Well, I’ll see what I can do, young lady,” Santa said. “Now then, how about a nice big smile?” They took the picture, and the girl named Sara hopped off Santa’s lap and ran immediately for the little train ride set up not too far away.

The second girl went up to Santa. Oliver thought she was probably about his and Tommy’s age, but he’d never met her. Laurel was lifted onto Santa’s lap and got an actual list out of her coat pocket.

“Now, you must be Laurel,” Santa said. “And I’m sure you and your sister have both been good girls this year. What would you like to ask me for Christmas?”

Laurel drew in a big breath and began. “For Christmas this year, I want Daddy to have the whole day off and for nobody to call in a one-eighty-seven or a two-oh-seven or a two-forty-six on the radio so he doesn’t have to leave while we open presents and eat dinner. I want all of his cases to be solved so he can keep being the best detective in the whole wide world. And I want all of Mommy’s students to turn in their work on time so she doesn’t worry about grading them. And I want her to get the—” she squinted at her list. “—Estée Lauder perfume she keeps reminding dad she’s running out of.”

Back where the parents stood, Oliver noticed the man that had brought his two daughters give a start, which he snickered into his scarf about.

The girl named Laurel wasn’t done. She and her sister had that in common. “I don’t know if Sara’s been good at all, but I trust your judgment, Santa. And it’s her birthday, too, so I want her to get the stuff she told you because you have to get presents on your birthday.”

Santa chuckled. “Well, I’m sure I can make that happen. But what would you like for Christmas, my dear?”

Laurel blinked and looked up with wide, green eyes. “I thought about it a lot, but I already have a lot of toys. And I can get all the books I want at the library. Mom’s allergic to fur, so we can’t have pets. Our house isn’t big enough for a shark, and they aren’t pets anyway.”

“Perhaps not. But—”

“The teacher at school had us take home a card with another kid’s name and what they wanted for Christmas. I got Tim, and he wanted a new basketball, and we’re gonna buy it today. But I hope he gets other presents from you, too, Santa.”

Oliver looked down at his list with all the things he had written that he wanted. His parents could probably buy it all for him and then some. What was he asking Santa for it for if there were other kids who didn’t get presents at Christmas unless other people were buying them?

Maybe Santa’s business wasn’t doing very well, and that was why Laurel had been asked to buy another kid’s basketball. Maybe that was why all those other Santas at the stores had that pail to drop money in.

“That’s very kind of you, Laurel. I’ll make sure to check my list for Tim,” Santa promised. “But was there anything at all you’d want for yourself? Big or small.”

“Well, maybe my own room would be nice,” Laurel said, a smile causing a little dimple to appear at the corner of her mouth. Oliver felt sort of warm all over seeing it.

Santa gave another big, booming laugh. “A new room might fit a little snug in my sack of presents, but I’ll see what I can do, young lady. Now then, you just keep smiling for our picture, hm?”

They took it, and Laurel hopped off Santa’s lap while chirping a, “Thank you!” She ran out of the little enclosure, and Oliver watched her go.

“Come forward, young man!”

Tommy nudged him in the back. “Ollie, it’s your turn.”

“Oh.” He hurried forward towards Santa, who smiled down at him. Oliver was placed in his lap.

“And what would you like for Christmas this year?”

“Uh…” Oliver looked down at his list again. A lot of what he wanted on it was stuff Tommy was asking for, too. All the movies and games, anyway. He wanted his own, but they could share, couldn’t they?

“I wanted a buncha stuff,” he told Santa, “but I don’t need it if other kids aren’t gonna get presents this year.”

Santa blinked. “Oh. Well, I don’t know that you need to worry too much about that—”

“I got money. If you need to buy more stuff for the elves to make the presents, or if you gotta pay them more for working more.” He knew it was called something, but he couldn’t remember what his dad had said. He tuned out most of what his dad said whenever they were at the office, content to sip his soda and watch the city out the big windows. Oliver unzipped the pocket of his jacket that held the paper bill that meant one-hundred and tried to pass it to Santa, but the old man closed Oliver’s hand around.

“That’s very kind of you, young man, but I assure you that I have everything I need at the North Pole. Now then, let’s see what’s on your list.”

Oliver didn’t see how Santa could be right if other kids had to ask strangers to buy their gifts for them, and he read off his list with much less enthusiasm than he had felt while waiting in line. Santa directed him to look at the camera that he mustered up a smile for, then he jumped off his lap and rushed out of the gated area.

He ran right up to Raisa, who patted his cheek and said, “Mr. Oliver, do you still have your allowance?”

He patted the pocket to check and nodded. “How come Santa didn’t want my money?”

“Because Santa doesn’t deliver toys for money.”

“Then how’s he pay for anything?” Something didn’t make sense with this whole setup, but Oliver didn’t know what.

Raisa shook her head, smiling indulgently after him. “Why don’t you save yourself and Mr. Tommy a spot in the line for the train?”

“Okay.” He turned and walked over there, still stewing over it, and nearly walked right into the back of a girl. “Sorry,” he blurted, backing up a step.

She turned around, and Oliver realized it was Laurel, the girl who had been in line ahead of him, the girl who had said other kids weren’t getting presents unless someone else bought them.

“That was really nice what you did,” Laurel told him.

“You saw that?” For some reason, his cheeks started to burn and he rubbed at the back of his neck.

Laurel nodded. “There’s lots of toy drives in the city. They ask people for money if they can give it. My daddy calls it charity.”

He’d heard that word before. His mom and dad went out at night all the time for charity. Oliver was supposed to do that, too, when he grew up.

“Okay. I’ll ask my dad about it.” If Santa didn’t want money, he’d find someone else to give the other kids presents. Oliver didn’t think the other kids could all be on the naughty list; he’d made the nice list, and he knew he hadn’t been as good as he could have been this year.

The train stopped, and all the kids currently on it got off, Laurel’s sister among them. One of the workers opened the little gate he, Laurel and a few other kids stood by. “All aboard!”

They both walked in, Laurel picking a seat near the middle. Oliver hovered by her, looking back to see Tommy was only just getting his picture with Santa.

A soft thumping sound caused him to look back at Laurel, who patted the bench beside her. “You can sit with me if you want.”

“Okay!” He sat down quickly, trying not to feel too guilty that Tommy was probably running over right now to get on the train. There were still open seats behind them. “I’m Ollie,” he added, realizing he hadn’t actually introduced himself.

“I’m Laurel,” she said.

The train whistle blew, and together they were off.

#lauriver #lauriverholidays2020 #oliver queen #laurel lance #arrow #green arrow #black canary #my writing

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loveafterthefact · 4 years

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Love After the Fact Chapter 16: Communion-ity

Keith meets a certain head chef and his tiny half-clone. Said tiny clone is very fond of cats and Lance.

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Keith’s tail twitches nervously. On the other side of this door is one of Lance’s oldest, dearest friends. Given Lance's reputation, Keith can only imagine what they might have gotten up to together. Most likely things that would have him trembling for the better part of the next decaphoeb. After that, probably only disgusted.

“Anyway, Hunk is one who runs the kitchens. He makes every single one of your meals himself. Because, y’know, all of our food apparently tastes disgusting to you.”

“It’s the ‘sweet’ thing. I don’t know what it’s supposed to taste like, but Galra can’t taste it. And apparently you freaks like nothing else.”

“Hey. If Pidge makes that implant for you I bet you’ll love sweet food.”

“Makes a what now?” Keith asks, but Lance throws open the doors, stepping inside with a flourish, bowing halfway amidst a chorus of greetings.

“Alright, everyone. I have my spouse here to see the kitchens, so please be kind to him.” Another chorus from cheery Alteans. Lance holds out his hand for Keith to take, tugs him into the kitchen. Keith stays close, watching Alteans scurry about, preparing to feed not only the royal family, but also the guards and a portion of Altean’s military, the ones garrisoned at the castle.

As Keith walked past, these Alteans stare at him, forgetting themselves for a moment before averting their gazes. It's better than gossip, in a way, but it causes a sort of ache. Loneliness?

“Kitty!” To Keith’s alarm, a very small creature comes running at him, toddling in its chubby legs. Keith grips Lance’s arm, managing not to extend his claws into his spouse’s arm as the child grabs him around the legs in a hug. “Hi, kitty!”

“Rosetta! Rosetta leave the kitty alone- Oh! Oh, gosh! Rosetta, come here!” A pair of very large hands reach down and pry the child from Keith’s legs. “I’m so sorry about that. She’s little.”

Keith looks up to see a very large person in a spotless apron and yellow headband holding the little child. “It’s… fine. It’s all fine. Um. What’s a kitty?”

“You ever seen Honerva carry a little animal around?” the man asks. Keith nods. “That’s Kova. Her cat, also known as a kitty.”

“I don’t look like that.”

“Tell that to a toddler. I’m Hunk, by the way. Nice to meet you.” Keith blinks, looks the towering Balmeran up and down.

“Nice to meet you too,” he mumbles. “Why do you have a child in the kitchens?”

“Oh. My wife is pregnant and needed a break. Toddlers, man. Tiny monsters, I’m telling you. Besides, it’s never too early to begin learning different spices. Isn’t that right?” Hunk bounces his daughter, beaming with delight. He's nothing like Keith had expected.

“You guys are so great,” Lance says, smiling from where he’s leaning against a table covered with produce. “Hunk and Shay are just the perfect little family. Also, they can make cave bugs taste amazing. You wouldn’t believe it.”

“Hey, I can’t take credit for that. My grandmother-in-law taught me that recipe. It’s one of Rosie’s favorites too, isn’t it Rosie?” The child nods, still watching Keith with interest. “So how have you two been getting on? You doing alright?”

“We’re getting on fine,” Lance answers, scowling at a message on his datapad. “Overworked and underappreciated, but fine.”

“I wish I were overworked,” Keith grumbles, ears pinning back against his head. “I mean, what exactly do they expect me to do? Pidge said that all of my devices are monitored until they can find a way to secure my connections and the guards took everything but my knife when I arrived. There’s not a whole lot of damage a lone Galra can do.”

“Hm.” Hunk passes Rosetta to a delighted Lance, who bounces the little one on his hip. “Remember when ‘innocent until proven guilty’ was a thing?”

“That’s only a thing if the commonwealth asks. The reality is that ‘anything to protect our people’ covers a lot of quiznakery.” Lance sighs, tosses his datapad aside in favor of a cluster of some orbed fruits. He takes one for himself, passes one to Rosetta.

“Thank you,” the child chirps.

“You’re welcome.” Lance beams indulgently at the child.

“Thank you, thank you.” Rosetta grins a wide grin at the prince.

“Well you are very welcome, sweetheart.”

Keith silently watches the exchange, watches as Lance expertly handles the child, bouncing her around and chatting with her while Hunk starts in on an enormous basket of some kind of tuber. The prince seems a natural, happy to engage with the child, setting her at a small table in the corner with a collection of toys, playing some game or another.

Something Keith hadn’t realized he’d been clenching unfurls watching his spouse interact with the child. He imagines that Lance won’t reject him when he inevitably must bear them a kit, and won’t reject their kit either. No. Lance will adore their kits, be a good sire, good father, good mate.

“He loves kids. Wants a small army.” Hunk chuckles. “We’ll see what he says after you guys have your first.”

“Hm.” Keith smiles. “Does he have children already? I know his reputation well, at this point.”

“No. He’s always been careful to prevent such a thing, and if any… prior liaison had a child within a given timeframe, he checked to see if they were his by some small chance. Said that he’d take responsibility, make sure they had that second parent.”

“An honorable cad.”

“I suppose. Oh, there’s a tray of samples for you in that coldbox over there. I’d intended it for lunch, but grab it now and let me know what you think. I haven’t had the opportunity to ask about your food.”

“Thank you.” Keith retrieves the tray, sits across from Hunk and his tubers. “And… thank you. For making me food.”

“It’s all good. Fun, actually. I’ve never experimented with Dabazaani cuisine, despite how close Daibazaal is. You guys have good food. I mean, pretty much everybody has good food, but that purple grass you guys use to make bread? Amazing. Rosie loves it, too. She likes it in her stew.”

Keith smiles. “We like to dip it in stew, too... Why do Alteans all eat off their own plates?”

“Most peoples do. Galra don’t?”

“No. Food is… communion. It’s something to be shared. We take from the same pot. We use a sort of flat, crispy bread-like thing to eat softer foods? It’s difficult to explain. We mostly eat with our hands… Sporks are annoying. I don’t use them if I can help it.” Hunk hums, delightedly interested. Keith takes a risk. “It’s why I didn’t eat with everyone for the first few quintants. I was trying to get better at using one.”

“Really? Lance thought you were just very shy. And maybe didn’t like him all that much." Hunk catches Keith’s eye only for the Galra to look away, folding his arms, hunching over slightly on his stool. He is shy. And seems pretty sweet. “Hey.” The Galra shifts, nervous. “Tell me more about what you like to eat.”

“I like spicy things. And… meat. Altean adults don’t seem to eat meat.”

“No, they don’t. Infants do, for a while. They go through a phase where they eat nothing but meat, actually. I’ll reach out to my contact in Daibazaal to see about adding some to my shipments. Have you been to the infirmary at all?”

“No.”

“You should go and get checked for any deficiencies. I want to make sure you’re getting proper nutrition. Make sure Altea is agreeing with you and all that. It’s very different, isn’t it?”

“Yes. There are plants covering everything! They’re really pretty! And the animals here are cute and don’t bite a whole lot.” Keith's ears perk a bit, his tail sweeping over the floor in long strokes.

“The animals are very friendly -mostly-, and this planet has a lot of vegetation. My home planet is more like Daibazaal. Or maybe a mix of the two. Plenty of plants and animals, but not quite as many. Balmera grow crystals like spines along their nerves. During certain times of year, they will all resonate, and may create a brand new balmera.”

“What… Is Balmera alive?” Keith cocks his head, ears perked with curiosity. He's got wide eyes, Hunk notices, big and dark like the night, shining with curiosity. Lance is doomed.

“Balmera are mineral-based organisms the size of planets. Most are inhabited by entirely unique species. My people are found only on a single Balmera. We love her and care for her. We exist in a completely unique symbiosis.”

“That sounds nice.”

“It’s very nice. Making the sharing of food a part of your daily routine sounds nice too. Your people must have strong bonds with their friends.”

Keith smiles, strangely emotional. “Thank you. Others don’t say nice things about my people very often. Especially not here… They look at me like I’m a monster. They hate me.”

“Well I don’t hate you. Pidge, my best friend, doesn’t hate you. They seem to like you a lot, actually. As for the Alteans… xenophobia is an integral part of their culture. Lance is frothing at the mouth trying to find a way to take them all down a peg.

“At any rate, don’t pay them any mind. You are not a monster. You’re just a guy, who happens to be a Galra. Just like I happen to be Balmeran. Just like Lance happens to be Altean. Life is arbitrary, but community is not, right? We choose who we share our pot with. I think I’d share mine with you.”

The Balmeran smiles at Keith, and Keith smiles back, eyes suspiciously moist. Poor little buddy. Hunk would absolutely share his pot with him. He’d give Keith a hug, but suspects that he wouldn’t like it. He doesn’t know Hunk well enough. Instead, Hunk finishes preparing his last tuber to be sent to the garrison for the castle’s military, heads to the coldbox.

“I don’t have any pots going at the moment, but I’ve got some dough here for your bread. We can share some of that.”

“Can I help?” Keith asks, looking hopeful. “I can cook. I know how.”

“Of course. Food tastes better with more hands. Lance! Rosie! Come help make bread.”

Lance trots over with the toddler, setting her in a special chair. Keith settles in next to his spouse, teaching him how to knead the grainy dough and twist it into traditional patterns. Hunk and Lance carry most of the conversation, switching from common to Altean every now and then so Rosie doesn’t understand the less appropriate anecdotes and gossip.

Apparently, there’s one particular courtier named Seran who spends most of her time ruining her two children and harassing people for even the slightest perceived inconvenience. They both make good sport out of loudly recounting hyperbolic stories for Keith, complete with exaggerated voices for Seran and her evil, entitled children. Apparently, Seran's wife, Renli, is almost as bad.

It has Keith doubled over with laughter, eyes watering with mirth as Lance recounts the time Seran’s gardener trimmed her moss slightly too short and she’d chased him off down the street while swinging his own rake at him.

It’s not until he and Lance are returning to their room, sneaking loaves of Daibazaani bread back with them, that Keith realizes he’s still smiling. He bumps against Lance’s side, happily twists his tail around Lance’s ankle.

“Thank you. For today, I mean.”

“You are most welcome.”

“Thank you for everything else, too.”

“You’re welcome, Keith. Always.”

#LoveAftertheFact #LAtF #klance #galtean au #galra keith #altean lance #adashi #altean adam #galra shiro #voltron legendary defender #vld

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fabulouspotatosister · 5 years

Text

onions

a/n: I wanted to add to this series because I haven’t added onto it for a while and was also starting to regret making this a series at all, so I wrote this to get my head back in the game. I’ve got some other Doctor Who fics coming up that aren’t part of this series, and maybe a big rewrite of another Doctor Who fic I’ve already posted.

This was inspired by a prompt send by @timelord-winchester-22b in the thirsting for thirteen Discord server I’m in! Love you lots.

Enjoy the fic!

“Welcome back, you guys!”

Yaz gives you a big hug, squeezing you so tight it’s a reminder that she’s a policeman. “I didn’t expect to see you up!”

You’d bumped into the fam as they returned from another adventure with the Doctor and shuffled down the hallways to their rooms in the TARDIS. By bumping into them , you actually meant that they found you standing outside your room - which you (technically) weren’t allowed to leave.

After your capture, the Doctor had suggested lots of bedrest so that you could heal. For a while, this was alright - your soft bed and the fact that you were safe on board the TARDIS usually staved the nightmares away, and the Doctor’s constant presence while you slipped in and out of consciousness was enough to keep you very comfortable for a long time. But that bedrest eventually transformed into “indefinite bedrest”. The Doctor, fiercely protective and understandably scared, usually refused to let you move or leave your room, until you managed to convince her that you were mostly fine and that she needed to let you walk around or else you would go absolutely stir-crazy. That worked sometimes.

And then there’s the added factor of the fact that she kissed you while you were still bedridden, and has never mentioned it since.

“Tell you what, I’ve been missing real food,” Graham starts, and Ryan gives his grandfather a suffering look. “The Doc’s been taking us everywhere except places we can actually eat, and when we do get somewhere she usually manages to interrupt before I can get a good bite.”

“Yeah, we’ve all been eating take-out,” Ryan says. “Or the space version of it, I guess. You’re lucky, you actually get to use the kitchen.”

You shift on your feet, amused - but your amusement quickly fades when you put a little too much weight on one of your legs and feel a sharp pain lance up your muscles. You inhale sharply at that, very nearly buckling to your knees at the pain, which slowly becomes a dull ache, radiating from a certain point in your knee. Ah, maybe I forgot to mention that to the Doctor .

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” you mutter, reaching out to grip a part of the wall. Yaz looks like she moved forward to catch you, so you shake your head at her, managing a strained grin. “I forget which leg I was stabbed in, sometimes.”

Your attempt to make one of your life-threatening injuries a joke doesn’t land, because of course it doesn’t.

The fam all stare at you, faces drawn. You know that look. They looked at you like that when you were still recovering, when you had burst into tears and sobbed into the Doctor’s arms when you found out exactly how long you were captured, when you had flinched away from Ryan as he celebrated winning a round of a video game, when you had refused to touch the Doctor after you jostled the bandages on your leg. And you hate it - you’re getting better, you hope, day by day, and you’re going to prove it.

“I can make you guys something,” you offer, raising your hands when you feel steady enough to stand on your feet, and try not to feel anxious when Yaz raises her eyebrows, “something from home. If you want, I mean.”

They stay silent after that, exchanging silent looks with one another. You can practically hear what they’re thinking - if it’s safe for you to be in the TARDIS kitchen alone, surrounded by knives and things that burned, or if it’s safe for you to be completely by yourself in the TARDIS at all without the Doctor by your side. If they had voiced their thoughts, you would agree with some of them, especially on the knives and the fire. But cooking was normal . It was something you used to do before everything happened. And even among all the adventure of travelling with the Doctor, you could use a little bit of normal.

So you roll your shoulders back, and try a smile.

That seems to work, because Graham places a hand on your shoulder and smiles back. The man always had a way of making the fam feel like a family , and the action is enough to make your smile wider. “Well, you’d better blow us away, or we’re letting you have some of that space take-out Ryan was talking about.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “Thank you,” you say graciously, sincerely . Yaz nods her head at you, her eyes crinkling at the edges as her lips curl up into the faintest of smiles.

“No, thank you ,” she says, then nods her head to the side. “We’ll wait for you. Come on, Ryan.”

Yaz leads Ryan and Graham away, the sound of their footsteps echoing and eventually disappearing down the amber-colored halls of the TARDIS.

You sigh again, fishing out your phone from your pocket, and decide to look up some recipes.

A few minutes later, you come to the conclusion that you’re really not an organized person. Standing in the TARDIS kitchen, surrounded by a heap of ingredients that you haphazardly pulled out of the fridge and the pantry, you think to yourself that this is the perfect example of your disorderliness.

After much pacing the TARDIS halls by yourself, phone in hand, you’d eventually decided on a kind of beef stew you had eaten when you were young - your mother had cooked it in soy sauce and lemon juice until it was soft, and you had many fond memories of eating just the sauce over rice when the rest of your family members ate all the meat without you.

You were surprised to find any ingredients, honestly, in the TARDIS kitchen. You had just been getting by with what the Doctor was giving you in your room, which were presumably things she cooked herself (did she even cook?) or some of the leftover “space take-out” Ryan had been complaining about.

As you hold up a vaguely lemon-shaped plant to the light, you realize that maybe not all the produce is human produce. You sniffed the lemon-y plant, scrunching your nose when you come away with the overwhelming acidic smell of citrus. It would have to do.

But thankfully, the TARDIS had onions - which you needed to top the beef stew. Gingerly, you set the onions onto the already overflowing counter, then proceed to sweep the ingredients on the overflowing counter to make space for a cutting board. You try to pick the smallest knife in the cabinet ( there aren’t many, anyway ). Picking up one of the onions, you steady it on the cutting board and start to slice.

But as soon as your knife breaks through the skin of the onion, the familiar smell hits your nose, and when you start to feel your eyes prickle you groan. Maybe you should have prepared better for this.

You slice rings from the onion, and with every slice, your eyes water more and more. By the time you’ve started slicing the second onion, you have hot tears running down your cheeks. They drip from your chin and onto your cutting board. You think dimly that it must be a health hazard to cry onto your vegetables, but you’re going to cook them so it must be alright.

“Anyone in here?”

You nearly drop your knife.

Oh, crap. The Doctor’s familiar voice echoes from outside the kitchen. Instead of comforting you like it usually does, her voice makes your stomach drop to your feet. She didn’t know you had gone outside your room, and more importantly you hadn’t asked for her permission. The Doctor was very fond of making up the rules as she went. Maybe this time she would really enforce that “indefinite bedrest”.

You pick up your knife again and push away the other onion rings to make way for the third, and final, onion. Maybe if I ignore her she’ll just go away.

The sound of footsteps slowly gets louder and louder, turning from boots hitting a metal floor to boots scuffling onto polished tile. The door to the kitchen noisily swings open, creaking with disuse - which it didn’t do when you opened it, what was that about - and then softly swings shut.

You don’t turn around when the Doctor calls your name. She hasn’t said your name since the last time she left you in your room. Or really spoken to you, for that matter, except for when she has to change the bandages on a few scrapes you have that haven’t really healed. You’re not emotionally hurt, or anything, but you’re just -

The Doctor takes a few steps forward, moving a chair that scrapes against the floor.

“I didn’t expect to see you in here,” she says softly, as if not to startle you. “Honestly, no one really uses the kitchen anymore. The TARDIS usually puts it really far away now.”

You hum, staring at the one onion on your cutting board. It’s almost like it’s mocking you - when the Doctor isn’t around, you seem so confident, but the moment she steps into a room you can’t do anything . You can’t even cut a vegetable. You hate to agree with an onion, but for once the vegetable is right.

However, the thought still sends a hint of anger straight towards your heart. Holding your knife with a bit more force than necessary, you send it straight down onto the onion. You regret that when a single whiff of the cut onion makes a few more tears slip out from your eyes, and when you sniff the Doctor practically runs towards you.

Before you know it, the Doctor has placed her hands on your shoulders and turned you around, and for the first time in a few days you see her face. It hits you that you must look terrible - with tears running down your face and your nose and cheeks red and splotchy - so you quickly try to turn back around.

The Doctor pauses, quickly taking her hands off your shoulders. She looks like a child who’s just been caught doing something naughty, when it clearly should be the other way around.

“I’m sorry,” the Doctor gasps. Her shocked expression softens when she notices your tear-stained face. “Are you crying? Why are you crying?”

The Doctor quickly starts to fuss over you, furiously looking you over. She’s not wearing her coat, you notice, when she leans down and you catch a glimpse of her collarbone underneath her shirt. You mentally hit yourself when your mind drifts to thoughts of when she wrapped you in it and if she ever left it in your room.

But the room, unfortunately, still smells of onions, so a few more tears leak out. You sniff again, reaching up to rub your nose, but stop when the Doctor looks up at you.

If there’s ever a time to use the words “puppy-dog eyes”, it’s now , because the Doctor had looked up at you so sadly you’re ready to start actually crying. Worry lines her beautiful features, and when she takes your hand you feel like you’re going to combust.

God, I’ve already kissed this woman and she still manages to make me feel like a little girl with a crush.

“Are you alright?” the Doctor asks, worriedly.

You shake your head, the smell of the onions stinging your nose.

“Is this because I haven’t seen you in a few days? It probably is. Oh, I should have put in that “indefinite bedrest” rule, then maybe you wouldn’t be crying right now - or maybe that would make you cry more -”

The Doctor had been worried about you many, many times before. It was usually in extremely dire situations, and she was usually very serious when she was worried, but now it’s just… cute . Her blonde hair bounces around as she emphatically lists reasons as to why you might be crying, with none of them being any close.

Part of you wants to keep up the charade, because it’s quite cute to see her this worried - then your heart drops when you remember that the last time you had cried was when you were still very much injured and afraid, and that she had looked like she was carrying the weight of the universe when you cried.

She had very good reason to be worried before, and worry never did look any good on her.

“Doctor,” you try with a laugh, wiping the tears off your face, “I was cutting onions .”

Realization dawns on the Doctor’s face, and she lets go of your hand.

“Oh,” she says simply, standing up a little straighter. You see her purse her lips, her eyes glancing to the side - she’s embarrassed, and when you fail to stifle a giggle she actually starts to look offended . “Well, syn-propanethial-S-oxide can be very annoying. I should introduce you to an onion I found on another planet that doesn ’ t release that chemical irritant when cut. Very convenient for chefs, and - what? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Sorry,” you say, stepping to the side and showing her the counter you’d been working on. She scrunches her face at the onions, which you unconsciously mimic, because the cutting wasn’t really that good. The Doctor snatches up the weird citrus fruit you’d picked up and whips out her sonic, giving it a good scan before quickly reading the results and putting the fruit back.

“Just checking if that fruit’s poisonous. Which it isn’t. It may have gone a little bad, though.” The Doctor says, still looking at the table. “Can I have some when you’re done?”

“Always,” you say, and you watch as the Doctor goes still and silent. It’s something that she said to you, a long time ago when you asked her if you could go back to your hometown. Something she said before all of everything happened.

The sight of the Doctor with her back turned is practically beckoning you to come closer.

The Doctor was not really a hugging person. Sure, she received a few hugs from thankful individuals that you met on your adventures, but she never really hugged you, or the rest of the fam. Even when you were injured she never hugged you, but you had chalked that up to your injuries.

She doesn’t move when you place a hand on her elbow, though, so you take that as a sign to keep going. When you wrap one of your arms around her waist, you feel her tense up. When you wrap your other arm around her waist, fully hugging her, you think you feel her breathing hitch.

Sometimes silence speaks louder than words. You can feel the Doctor’s worry practically radiating off her body. You press your face into the Doctor’s back, feeling the soft fabric of her shirt and taking in her scent - which, you discover, is vaguely of honey. The Doctor lifts her hands to lay it over yours.

“You’re worried,” you whisper.

“How can I not be?” the Doctor asks softly. You feel her stroke your hand with her thumb.

“I’m okay, I’m right here,” you say, “ and I’m getting better . Thanks to you.”

The Doctor turns around in your arms. You still have your arms wrapped around her waist, but now that she’s facing you your back hug has turned much more intimate. She lays her hands on your waist, not bringing you any closer but not pushing you away either.

This was the Doctor, brave and reckless and unique, and she was sad .

“You don’t have to be worried.” You smile, unwrapping one of your arms and raising a hand to her face. She doesn’t flinch away at your touch. “It’s just onions.”

“It’s just onions,” she repeats, finally breaking out into a smile. She reaches up to grasp the hand that’s resting on her face, looking both surprised and in awe.

I love you, you think, and all you know is that even if you’re not ready to say it yet, you already feel so loved.

#expect a kind of spam today sjsjdjajajdahdjakkhdjf for the newer fics #gonna try to queue some stuff #GOD i posted this so long ago #hhh but posting on tumblr is SO hard lmao #i gotta suffer for the consistency #doctor who #doctor who imagine #doctor who x reader #thirteenth doctor imagine #thirteenth doctor x reader #the doctor x reader #jess writes

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shutupandshipit · 4 years

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Little Life - Ch.6

Summary: A baby could ruin his career before it had even started. If anyone found out, he would be kicked out of the Hero Course at the very least and UA at the very worst. Even then, how was he supposed to care for a baby once it arrived? He was a fucking seventeen-year-old boy, not a twenty-nine-year-old omega with their shit at least somewhat together.

…..

Or where Katsuki get pregnant, but is determined to make it to graduation. No matter what it takes.

Pairing: Bakudeku

Rating: T (just for language mostly)

Chapter: 6/16

Previous <- Chapter 5

Chapter 7 -> Next

Master Post

Chapter 6: 4 Months

Izuku was lying on top of Katsuki, head pillowed on his chest and body blanketed, when he shifted to prop his chin on his threaded fingers. He considered Katsuki for several moments before asking, "What do you think about coming out to the others?"

Katsuki's phone promptly assaulted him. He batted the offending piece of technology away as pain lanced through his nose and teeth, holding his nose as he glared down at his mate. "Where the fuck did that come from?"

"I don't know," Izuku mumbled quietly, tracing nonsensical patterns into the bare skin of Katsuki's chest. He sighed, and looked back up. "We've been together for almost eight months. I want to be able to talk to Ochako, Iida, Todoroki and Mom about us. I want to be able to sit with you on the couch in the common room and eat with you and hold your hand around everyone without them looking at us like we grew an extra head. All we do is eat together sometimes, and they already do that. And..." He trailed off, cheeks growing pink as he dropped his head down again. Soft lips pressed to Katsuki's skin, breath moist and hot.

"And?" Katsuki prompted when it seemed like he wasn't going to continue. He let go of his face, cupping the back of Izuku's neck instead.

Another sigh spread out against his skin. Izuku turned his head so that his cheek was resting against his breast bone. "I don't want to have to sneak around anymore. Mostly though, I just want to be able to claim you. I hate seeing other alphas eyeing you like they'd love to get you under them. Like you're a piece of meat." He nuzzled up into the heat beneath Katsuki's jaw, and Katsuki purred in response. "I know it bothers you when other omegas are talking to me, trying to blanket me in their scent even though they could never hope to cover up yours. Everyone always assumes we smell like each other because we train together in the mornings. I hate it."

Katsuki threaded his fingers into Izuku's curls, gently scratching at his scalp until Izuku's chest began to rumble. He hated it too, and in the weeks since coming out to Kirishima, he'd considered the idea multiple times. They had already agreed that they wouldn't officially mate until they'd had a chance to live together outside of high school, that had never been under negotiation. This other secret had begun to wear at him though in the last couple of months when his need for contact had been the highest, steeling kisses in an empty classroom and hidden touches when he really needed them. If he could take what he needed in the light of day, it'd be easier. He thought it would make everything simpler even if it would invite others into their business and unwanted comments, it would just make things easier.

He also hated the idea with a passion that rivaled his fifteen-year-old ire. He hated that people would know this secret little part of Izuku that up until then had been only his.

The thought of pack was an intoxicating plus though.

So, he said, "Okay. Sure. Yeah."

Izuku's head snapped up, nearly striking him in the chin. "Really?"

"What? You don't actually want to?"

"No, it's just that I wasn't expecting you to agree so quickly."

Katsuki shrugged, looking up at the ceiling. "They're going to find out eventually. We're not exactly subtle, and I'm sure at least a few know already. They're not all as oblivious as you are."

Laughing, Izuku kissed the underside of his chin. "That was almost a compliment."

"Yeah, well, it had to happen at some point."

"How are we going to do it though?"

"Well, if you tell your dumbass friends and I tell my nosy ass friends, it'll spread without any work from us. The whole school will literally know before the day is over. The two top students dating will be the hottest gossip any of them will hear the entire time they're here. It'll be worse than when Beady Eyes and Amajiki got engaged."

"Why do you know Amajiki's name, but not Mirio's?" Izuku asked with a happy little laugh.

Katsuki waved away the question. "Kirishima never shuts up about him. You'd think they were the ones engaged."

"Well, Kirishima is a really loyal friend and gets excited for the people he cares about."

"Yeah, sounds like some green-haired dumby I know." He grinned down when Izuku huffed.

They settled more completely into each other. It wasn't ten minutes later that Katsuki felt something very stiff pressing into his abdomen. "Deku," he said threateningly. He could almost feel as Izuku's face flush with embarrassment.

"I'm sorry!" he whined, "I've been really pent up lately, and we haven't done this in a long time. It's been longer since we've had sex. You haven't been feeling well so I haven't said anything. I didn't want to pressure you or anything."

Katsuki huffed. Like Izuku could ever pressure him. Since getting pregnant, his libido had been admittedly nonexistent unlike his research had told him. Probably because of all the puking and headaches and harboring a literal leech in his body or something. Even now with Izuku's dick pressing into him, the offer of sex wasn't all that appealing when before he would have already been ravaging the idiot.

"I haven't gone into a rut in months, so I haven't even had that," Izuku mumbled.

'Yeah,' Katsuki thought, 'That makes sense.'

They'd learned during this year's sex-ed that when an alpha's omega got pregnant, it completely shut off the hormone that caused both parties to have their cycles. All energy went into providing for their omega and growing pup. Something about an evolutionary survival mechanism. He was just lucky Izuku was too dumb to connect the dots.

And there were so many dots to connect at this point. Any two would lead to the same conclusion.

Katsuki mulled over the concept silently, letting Izuku stew in his embarrassment for a little while longer. "We can have sex on one condition," he said, and Izuku startled against him, "You're topping. I'm not in the mood to put in all that work. That, and you're always so goddamn loud when you bottom, and I don't want that purple ball haired pervert listening at the wall. If you bend me into a pretzel again though, I'm never going to let you touch me again."

Izuku laughed as he pushed himself up to lean in for a kiss. "Okay, I can do that," he said.

Katsuki willingly wrapped his limbs around Izuku, and melted completely into the heat of his touch.

.....

The next morning, they went downstairs to the sound of Sunday morning cartoons in each others clothing. Izuku slumped in a near unconscious, whining heap across Katsuki's shoulder. He was a terrible morning person even when it was already ten.

"Kacchan, I'm tired! Let's go back to bed," he wheedled, but Katsuki ignored him.

They were completely drenched in each others scents and pheromones from the night's activities, and their appearance caused the kind of shock that he'd planned on. All heads turned to them in complete silence as he dragged the useless heap into the kitchen to grab several water bottles. He wasn't about to cook for the fucker after getting wrecked by him the night before, so he just grabbed fruit and granola bars before beginning the trek back upstairs.

Kirishima grinned widely at him, and he jerked his chin up in silent greeting.

As he mounted the stairs, he heard Mina hiss accusingly, "Did you know about this, Eiji? You've been holding out on me, jerk!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Kirishima replied innocently.

"Kirishima!" the group shouted in outrage.

#my hero academia #mha #bakudeku #dekubaku #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #omegaverse #omega!katsuki #alpha!izuku #my writing #multi-chapter #little life

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sasuhinasno1fan · 4 years

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Snipets of a Red Ranger and Blue Ranger- Klance Week Day 4

I’m a simple girl, I see ‘Rangers’ I think Power Rangers and I am not sorry. And yes, it’s Samurai Rangers, I liked the season, sue me. @klanceweek Rangers, Cow, Lawless

Lance was restringing his bow, trying to tighten it without it snapping, which it had already done twice. Usually he wasn’t so distracted but he had a good excuse. What else was he supposed to do when he found out one of the biggest secrets the Red Samurais were hiding?

There was no easy was to explain his unique family line other than that they were the longest line of Power Rangers that existed. The appearance of some other Rangers, who hoped from the future to the past, had unintentionally unleashed another dimension filled with monsters known as Galra. Their world, the Netherworld, sat on the bank of the Sanzu River, water capable of destroying everything. A lord and his band of samurai went against these creatures and through their perseverance and using written talismans, they accessed the Morphing Grid, giving them the look and protection of the Ranger uniform and turning the talismans to Symbol Power. When the era of samurai ended, the lord made the samurai his retainers. And so, as time passed, the children would take their families place when it came time, defending their home. When the Red Ranger had first discovered a symbol to seal the Galra away, he was able to do so, allowing the group to split up and live not fighting for their lives.

They all eventually led back together back when his dad was his age. The seal had been cast again at the cost of the Red Ranger’s life, but it wasn’t strong enough. It became the next generations’ job to end this 19-generation long war. Lance didn’t think he’d be the one to be doing it. His main focus was to become one of the first biracial members of the Japanese Olympic archery team. He was close to, until every one of his siblings decided what they wanted mattered more and dumped the youngest with the responsibilities. His father tried to force him by stating that the Dragon Origami would only listen to Lance, but he that was a lie. Everyone else got off but because he was the last one, he had to obey orders. He put up a good fight, staying away from his family and proving himself to be Olympic material. But the seal officially broke the day of his biggest competition and even when he ignored the summons arrow, Lance was kidnapped by the Kuroko, the shadows who served the samurai families, and thrown into a car. He might not have wanted to be there, but he wasn’t an asshole who would walk away when people needed help. He did make his position very clear, his father had to get one of his siblings to take his place because he wouldn’t stay.

Once everyone heard his whole story, they were mostly understanding, including their leader Keith. Hearing him promise to talk to his dad almost seemed too good to be true but he’d heard him calling his dad. Then it made sense when Allura told him the big secret.

Keith, wasn’t born into the Red Ranger line, because the pervious Red and Pink ranger did the biggest no-no. they had a kid together. to make sure there was always a Ranger from each family line, they were instructed to not fall in love with one of their teammates. Keith was actually the kid of a Kuroko that somehow had caused the Lion Origami to react to him. Allura was technically the Red Ranger who could cast the Sealing Symbol. Her weekend shopping trips, were actually trips to a secret temple where ancestors of the same people who helped their lord discover the Sealing Symbol would teach it to her until it was perfect.

Keith was willing to help him, because technically he wasn’t supposed to be doing this either. He was just a stand in until the time was right. Lance still didn’t know what to do with this information. He was glad they trusted him with it, but it was only cause they all thought he’d be leaving.

“Lance?” Keith called from the other side of the door as he knocked. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah.”

Keith came in, closing the door behind him. He dropped down on Lance’s bed, looking at the mess of the low table that was covered in archery care stuff. “Guess I know why you disappeared after we got back from the baseball game.”

“It was a little league game and baseball makes no sense.” Lance threw out, feeling tense. He knew why Keith was here.

“So, Allura told me she talked to you when you guys were keeping an eye on the kid’s house.”

“Yeah, talked.”

Keith always looked so self-assured and confident, that to see him so unsure and nervous was weird.

“I hope your not upset that I’m doing this for Allura. My father was killed during a Galra attack and he was getting civilians out of harms way. Allura’s dad took me in, even when everyone said I wasn’t worth it. They kept pushing him to marry someone so he’d have a kid to carry on the Red line, but even knowing that it would be Allura, he still treated me like I was his kid. So, I don’t mind being a stand in for her. If it mostly keeps her safe, then I’ll do it.”

Lance let out a huff. “Wish my siblings cared that much. You’d give up everything to help her but everyone expects me to drop everything to make them happy. I won’t say anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I know. I get why you want to leave, but the Blue line is usually the second in command and in my opinion, someone who’d still help even when he wants a way out is a pretty worthy.”

Lance was honoured. How was he supposed to still act like a spoiled child when someone who didn’t even have to led a team and take the most hits did?

“Thanks for the compliment but,” he said instead, plucking at the string on his bow, “the Olympics are waiting for me.”

“Fair enough. And thank you for keeping this secret. We’ll tell them eventually.”

“They’ll understand.” Lance reassured. He was sure they would. It would be the 4 of them against everything. He just wished he’d be there to help if it went badly.

__________

Getting mind controlled was not fun. Just that morning things were going great. He and Keith had a sparing match and he was so close to actually beating Keith and Keith told him his dad would finally come to the Samurai House and talk. Then that annoying big talking mind controlling Galra made a mess of everything. All it took was a hit and he became a mindless drone who turned his sword against his friends. He was lucky Keith was able to snap him out of it with that burst of Symbol Power but his dad thought it was a glaring sign that he needed to stay with the team. So, he might have been thinking of maybe staying but he wanted it to be his choice, not forced by his dad. And now his head hurt more.

“Lance?”

“Come in.” he called, keeping his arm over his eyes.

He heard Keith turn the light off before he felt him tap at his arm to move it. He let out a grateful groan when he felt an ice pack drop on his face.

“I’m sorry things didn’t go well with your dad.” Keith said, the bed dipping as he sat down.

“You know, I’ve actually considered staying.” Keith stilled but stayed silent, letting Lance continue. “My whole life I’ve always been the scapegoat or had things taken just to satisfy the older ones. Much as I want to, I can’t be too mad at Marco and Veronica, they had good reasons. Everyone else, not so much. I just want one major decision in my life to be made by me.”

That sat in silence as Lance calmed down and hoped his head would stop hurting before Keith asked something.

“If you do decide to stay, would you consider being my second in command?”

Lance laid there, trying to decided if Keith was serious just from his voice alone. “I’ll think about it.”

“That’s fine. Do you want me to go?”

And leave him stewing in thoughts he didn’t want to hear? Not a chance.

“Tell me about your dad.” It was the first thing that came to mind and for a moment he was gonna take it back when Keith started talking.

“He was probably one of the only Kuroko who couldn’t cook.”

___________

In a turn of events, Lance knocked on Keith’s door. The fight against the half Galra Lotor was finally over and they were getting closer to defeating them. They’d see how much farther they could go once Shiro was able to unlock the Black Box, but for now, while Keith recovered, they could breath.

“Come in.” Lance opened the door, his eyes drawn to Keith’s exposed back as he struggled to pull his shirt off. It was getting harder and harder to not get a crush on Keith. He had to keep reminding himself that it was what got Allura’s parents into trouble in the first place. He was starting to see why they had the problem in the first place. How was he supposed to stop how he felt?

“Need help?” Lance offered.

“Sure, second-in-command.”

At dinner, he announced he’d stay with the team and publicly accepted Keith’s offer.

He was able to get Keith’s shirt off without aggravating his wounded arm too much. The view of his chest was distracting.

“I’m glad you decided to stay.” Keith said, pulling his eyes up. “It would have been hard to form the same bond with one of your siblings.”

“Yeah. I’m glad I did too. Finally feels like I can make my own decisions and not get looked down at.”

“You? Never?”

God, it was the compliments, it had to be. How else would he feel like a shy person when around Keith at times? They stood there, staring at each other when Lance couldn’t take it anymore. He kissed Keith. Keith didn’t push him away, if anything, he tried to pull him closer as he kissed back. Lance was careful as he rested his hands on Keith’s neck, not wanting to pull away when he did.

“We shouldn’t.”

“We really shouldn’t.” Keith said, using a finger to pull Lance back in and kiss him again.

This was so against the rules. Then…why did it feel so right?

_______________

Lance was getting ready for bed when a quite knock came to his door. Keith slipped in when Lance opened the door. The hallway was already dark and Lance would bet that Coran would be by any minute to come check on them.

“Hi.” Keith said.

“Hey.”

The air was slightly tense. It wasn’t because of all those secret kisses and hard to keep promises about waiting until the war was over. It was what happened on that island. A small island an hour’s boat ride away that had cut off contact with the outside world because a Galra had burned a fear making talisman. The new addition to Zarkon’s crew, Sendak, had invited a Galra who believed in the blaster as opposed to the sword. It was like watching the era of samurai die, but thankfully Bandor, the same kid who led them to discover the hidden Bull Origami, had created a blaster to use with their swords. At the sight of Lotor still alive and standing had pushed Keith into overdrive. The fight had been bad and Keith got hurt. Words that Lotor said about Keith being just like him had gotten to him. Lance considered them lucky he was able to find them after Keith took off. Things were tense when the whole fight was over and they hadn’t talk anything out.

“Here.” Keith handed him a bag from LOFT. In it, was a lightweight scarf. Similar to the one Lance gave Keith as a makeshift sling and that he dropped when he went after Lotor. “I know it’s not the same colour but…”

It was red, close to the red Keith’s favourite jacket was. It was a claim and an apology.

“I shouldn’t have run off and I should have listened to you. You were right, I’m not like him, but the thing is…he’s kinda right.”

“What do you mean? Keith you can’t actually think that you care more about fighting than anything else.”

“It’s not that.” Keith started to look how he did when he first came to talk to Lance about the big secret involving him and Allura. “It’s more than just how we see fighting. It’s…down to our biology. He might have given his soul to become who he is, but…I was born like that.”

“What are you saying?”

“Lance…I’m half Galra. That’s why I kept taking Lotor’s words to heart. I didn’t want to be like him, lusting for battle.”

Half Galra? Like Lotor?

“But Coran said the House is warded against Galra. How are you not hurting right now?”

“It’s for full blooded Galra. That’s another reason most of the people who were here during your dad’s time didn’t like me. My dad was ‘spellbound’ by a female Galra. Somehow, they had be and she gave me to my dad to keep me safe.” He put spellbound in air quotes. “My dad wasn’t spellbound. My mom didn’t follow under Zarkon’s control and was actively looking for a way to be human. I don’t know what happened to her, just that I wanted to be the same kind Galra she had to be for my dad to fall in love with her. But Lotor’s words-”

“were wrong.” He should so be paying attention to what Keith said. He was half Galra, like Lotor, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. The guy in front of him was Keith, his leader and the guy he liked. He fought like hell for his team and he deserved nothing less than his support. “The only thing you share in common with that guy is being half Galra. But you’re living proof that you don’t live in obsession.”

“Well, I do have one obsession.”

Lance looked confused when he realised what Keith was talking about and went red. “Oh, you mean me. Well, can’t blame your good taste. Just know that Lotor is wrong about you. When you tell the others, they’ll see that.”

Keith gave Lance a thankful smile before leaning up to kiss him.

“I thought we said no more until after the war?” Lance said, though he just wanted to pull Keith back for more.

“How am I supposed to wait when I have the best thing here? It’s starting to become hard to not kiss you all the time.”

“Good, I’m not the only one.” Lance said, capturing Keith’s lips again.

After the war, after he told his secrets, whatever. Lance knew what his next big life decision was. To stand next to Keith for as long as he could.

#klanceweek #power rangers au #samurai rangers au #red ranger keith #blue ranger lance #lance does archery #lance and his family don't get along

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ezrisdax-archive · 5 years

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recipe for disaster

The quickest way to someone’s heart is through their stomach. Too bad Dorothea’s such a bad chef. (also here on ao3)

The dish was slammed down in front of her so hard that Ingrid was certain for a second it was going to crack. When it didn’t she peered at it curiously, looking up at Dorothea’s beaming smile.

“What’s this?” Ingrid asked, trying to wipe the sweat off her brow from her training session. She felt a little self conscious doing it in front of Dorothea but she was certain Dorothea wouldn’t appreciate her getting sweat on her by accident.

Sure enough Dorothea wrinkled her nose a little in a manner that Ingrid absolutely refused to find cute.

Except that it was.

“I just thought you’ve been training so hard that you could use something to eat now.” Dorothea said, catching herself quickly enough and smoothing her face to a brighter expression.

“Oh.” Ingrid looked down at the dish again, “That’s sweet Dorothea, thank you.”

Dorothea sat down opposite of her, resting her chin in her hands, elbows on the table.

“Oh.” Ingrid said again and picked up the spoon, taking a scoop of the…soup? Stew? She squinted at it, trying to figure out what it was. Hesitantly she took a bite and was immediately choking due to the spice level in whatever it was.

“Ingrid!” Dorothea cried out and pressed a glass of water to her hands.

She chugged it down, wincing when she finally drank it all at the still burning sensation in her mouth.

“It’s no good then?” Dorothea’s shoulders fell and a look of disappointed flashed on her face. “Sorry, Ingrid. I might have uh, measured some things wrong.”

“What was it supposed to be?” Ingrid couldn’t help but ask.

“Rice pudding!”

Ingrid stared down at the brown mess in front of her and couldn’t for the life of her pick out anything that looked vaguely like that rice even.

“Right. Of course.” She slid the dish away from her. “It was a nice gesture Dorothea.” She quickly assured her. “But I think I’ll try something else.”

Dorothea sighed heavily, “That’s all right, Ingrid.” She perked up a moment later, “I’ll just try again.”

Ingrid frowned, “Again?”

“Don’t worry,” Dorothea assured her in a way that Ingrid didn’t find reassuring at all. “I’m not giving up.” With that Dorothea stood up and made her way back to the kitchen.

“I…” Ingrid watched her leave, feeling more than a little confused. “Give up on what?”

Dorothea ambushed her again the next day right after training, with another bright smile and a plate of food that Ingrid couldn’t guess at what it was supposed to be.

“At it again I see.” Ingrid said, approaching it with some apprehension.

“Yes! I’m not a girl who gives up easily.” Dorothea tossed her hair back, fingers sliding through the soft strands and Ingrid’s own fingers twitched with a sudden desire to feel it.

“I never thought you were Dorothea.” Ingrid teased. “You always put your best into everything, it’s admirable.”

Dorothea’s eyes lit up at the compliment. “Oh Ingrid, you’re the sweetest.”

“Hardly.” Ingrid waved the returned compliment off. “You should hear my father trying to explain what I’m like to potential suitors. There’s a lot of ‘she’s very competent’ and not quite the homemaker qualities in there.”

“Well I think you’re the sweetest.” Dorothea assured her. “You’re always looking out for others and caring, believe me those are qualities that aren’t appreciated enough.” Dorothea tilted her head at Ingrid, a smile ghosting on her lips. “You make people feel safe.”

Ingrid flushed, “O-oh. I’m glad you think so.” She shifted in her seat lightly, feeling uncomfortably warm. “I can assure you I’ll always keep you safe on the battlefield. Or try my best.”

Dorothea laughed, a light tinkling sound that echoed in the dining hall no matter how loud it was. “I didn’t just mean on there, I meant in general. You’ve just got that quality about you. And,” She paused for dramatic effect, leaning in just a little and lowering her voice. “You’re lovely to look at.”

“Not as lovely as you are.” Ingrid said back without thinking. “I mean. Well no, I did mean that.” Ingrid cleared her throat. “You know that of course.”

“Yes my looks are part of my appeal, I have been told.” Dorothea said it breezily, too casually for Ingrid’s comfort.

“If that’s all they’ve been telling you or appreciating then they aren’t worth your time.” Ingrid frowned. “There’s more to looks about you.”

“What did I say?” Dorothea brightened again, “You’re the sweetest.”

Ingrid looked down, trying to calm the blush on her face, which brought her in eye contact with the plate of food again. “Let’s see if you’ve improved here.” She said, picking up the fork with a smile at Dorothea. She took a piece of the…vegetables? Meat? And brought it slowly to her mouth. Dorothea watched her carefully, her green eyes full of worry.

It wasn’t spicy that time which was the best thing Ingrid could say of it. She could at least swallow but the tastes certainly didn’t blend together, whatever it was overcooked and full of herbs that didn’t go well with it.

Ingrid tried to school her face into something neutral but it was too late and Dorothea clicked her tongue in disappointment.

“I suppose it’s a good thing that the school offers us meals.” Dorothea said with a weak smile. She took the plate from Ingrid before she could say another word and walked off.

“I wonder why she wants me as a taste tester…” Ingrid mused to herself and then went to get a proper meal to satisfy her growling stomach. She’d have to find Dorothea later and cheer her up, she certainly looked downcast again.

“You have a shadow.” Felix said the next day at the training grounds as he dodged another of Ingrid’s attacks.

“What?” She spared a glance quickly over her shoulder to see Dorothea sitting in the shade. She waved at Ingrid when she noticed her looking.

“She was here yesterday before you left as well.” Felix tried to take advantage of her distracted gaze to lunge at her but Ingrid ducked out of the way in time, knocking the edge of his sword with her lance to try to twist it from his grasp.

“She was?” Ingrid asked and took a step back when that didn’t work to take another plan into account.

“She was.” Felix echoed in confirmation. “It was quite annoying.”

Ingrid rolled her eyes at Felix attitude but was far too used to it anyway to let it get to her. She instead chose to charge at him, feinting right and then attacking left. Felix managed to block her in time anyway and they separated to circle each other again.

“Felix!” Sylvain’s yell came from across the courtyard as he dashed in and came to a halt before them. “There you are, you promised you’d come to town today. I had plans for double dates and everything.”

“I promised no such thing.” Felix spat out.

She could tell that their training session was done for the day when Sylvain sulked and began to extoll about the virtues of girls. Normally she would have stopped them from getting into the fight they were clearly about to but Dorothea beckoned her over.

“I don’t normally see you here.” Ingrid said in greeting, leaning on her training lance that she planted in the ground at Dorothea’s feet.

“I just like the view.” Dorothea winked at her and stood up, brushing off her skirt. “I brought you something, thought you could use a nice cool drink after training.” She reached down to the basket she’d brought and pulled out a class. “It’s cucumbers and water. I kept it cool with magic.”

That didn’t sound so bad, certainly better than rice pudding and other dish and it looked like water. Ingrid reached out to take it and took a sip, regretting it the second she did. It wasn’t cold at all, though the glass was cold the liquid inside was somehow nearly scalding and the cucumbers tasted burnt.

Ingrid swallowed regrettably and made a face. “Uh Dorothea…”

“What?” Dorothea took the glass and took a sip herself, spitting it out automatically. “How…?”

“Don’t you only know lightning magic?” Ingrid asked, realizing now that she thought about it that she’d never seen Dorothea use ice magic.

“Well…yes.” Dorothea admitted and dumped the rest of the cucumber water onto the ground with a huff. “But I didn’t think it’d be that hard…”

“Maybe leave the ice stuff to Marianne.” Ingrid said with a tight smile, the after taste of the drink was still getting to her. “But thank you.”

“Don’t thank me for this!” Dorothea scowled at the water puddling at their feet. “I thought I’d keep it simple this time but clearly that didn’t end well…Oh I have to get this right eventually!” Dorothea muttered, mostly to herself.

Ingrid raised an eyebrow, curious what Dorothea was talking about. A pained yelp had her whirling around however before she could question it and she turned to see that Felix had Sylvain pinned to the ground.

“Those two…” Ingrid grumbled and stomped off to separate them. By the time she’d finished Dorothea was gone and the only thing left was the smell of burnt cucumbers in the air.

Dorothea didn’t approach her with food the next day, or the day after that, and Ingrid couldn’t seem to find her at the monastery.

“S-she’s not in here!” Bernadetta wailed from her room when Ingrid knocked on her door to ask. “Please don’t break my door down.”

“Do you know where she might be?” Ingrid asked, sighing at the door.

“N-no!”

“Do you have any idea what’s gotten into her recently?” Ingrid asked, somewhat desperately. “She’s been on this cooking spree lately and seems really upset about something…”

Bernadetta was quiet and then the door cracked open a little. “I don’t. I know I heard her talking about it! I mean, cooking. But I didn’t ask her. I-if she’s upset I can try to help?”

“Thanks Bernadetta, if I need it I’ll ask.” Ingrid smiled at her.

“Maybe ask Petra?” Bernadetta suggested before letting the door close and Ingrid go.

Ingrid sighed, rocking back on her feet a little. She felt off balance not having seen Dorothea or gotten to the bottom of it and honestly she was just a little sad to have missed Dorothea the past few days. It wasn’t like before they’d spent much time together but she had at least enjoyed seeing her.

And seeing her smile.

Ingrid shook her head to get rid of that thought as she walked to Petra’s room, knocking on the door briskly and waiting for an answer.

“Yes?” Petra asked as she opened the door, blinking curiously at Ingrid.

“Petra! Hi,” Ingrid tucked a strand of hair that had gotten loose back behind her ear. “I was wondering if you’d seen Dorothea today.”

Petra hummed in thought and then shook her head. “I have not.”

“Oh.” Ingrid frowned, “Have you talked to her recently? Do you know why she’s been cooking so much?”

Petra’s eyebrows rose at that. “Dorothea? Cooking? This is most unusual, her cooking is…I believe I have used the word horrendous.”

“You’re not wrong.” Ingrid agreed, wincing. “Dorothea’s good at a lot of things but this doesn’t seem to be her specialty.”

“I wonder why she would be doing this?” Petra mused. “Perhaps Dorothea is to be making the attempt to…what is the expression used… ‘leaf out’?”

“Branch out.” Ingrid said, “Maybe. I can’t find her to get an answer for it.”

“If I see her I will let her know you are looking.” Petra offered with a slight bow of her head. She regarded Ingrid curiously then. “You have been the recipient of Dorothea’s cooking?”

“Yes, she keeps finding me at the dining hall to give me food. I just can’t figure out why.”

“Hmmm…In Brigid one gives another a meal to share in the victory of battle.”

“Oh, in Faerghus we split the pelt of a hunted animal between the hunters to show our equal effort in the fight.” Ingrid tapped her fingers against her cheek. “I can’t remember anything special about food however…”

“I have not read of any customs in the Empire as such.” Petra admitted, “Ferdinand or Linhardt may be giving you the information.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing so complicated.” Ingrid laughed, “Dorothea’s hardly one for customs.”

“This is true.” Petra agreed, “She is most unusual.”

“She is.” Ingrid smiled, “But I enjoy it. Dorothea keeps things interesting, she’s lived such a different life from my own… I just hope she’s happy now. She’s been through a lot and I know she hates to fight… I keep trying to make sure I’m in front of her when the professor sends us out.” If only so she knew personally that Dorothea was safe and okay. It was comforting to know when she turned around that Dorothea would be at her back.

Petra met her eyes, staring at her like she was calculating something. “Ah,” She finally said. “I have been made aware. You care for Dorothea.”

“Of course!” Ingrid said, slightly defensively. “Don’t you?”

“Yes. I care for the happiness of my friend.” Petra smiled, “I am most glad she has found someone as well.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ingrid asked, puzzled.

Petra shook her head. “It is of no concern. My apologies for not knowing of Dorothea’s location.”

“I…thank you?” Ingrid felt off kilter suddenly, like they were having two different conversations entirely.

Petra nodded once more at her and then shut her door, leaving Ingrid baffled.

She gave up on her Dorothea search partway through the day, none of the other Black Eagles knew where she was and Ingrid wasn’t about to ask Hubert if he knew about Dorothea’s recent actions. She was afraid of the answer she might get back from him.

She trudged to the training grounds, figuring that she could get some training in before the day ended, and rounded the corner only to bang into someone.

“Oh shoot…” The voice said, dejected, and Ingrid recognized it.

“Dorothea?” She asked and blinked in surprise, seeing Dorothea sprawled on the ground with a basket next to her.

“Ingrid! Just the gal I’ve been looking for.” Dorothea grabbed the basket and righted herself up. “Don’t suppose you’ve had dinner yet?”

“I…haven’t….” Ingrid said cautiously, eyeing the basket. “Look Dorothea, what’s this all about?”

“Pardon?”

“The cooking, why are you cooking so much, and why am I your taste tester?”

Dorothea shifted on her feet, not meeting Ingrid’s eyes. There was a flush of her cheeks that betrayed her embarrassment.

“Well.” Dorothea began, clutching the basket tighter. “I just was thinking…it might be a way to get a suitor is all. Being more homely.”

There was a pit in Ingrid’s stomach that burned. “Oh. I see.” Ingrid tried to keep her voice level. “Well, any real suitor shouldn’t be looking just for that.”

“Not even if they’re the type who loves food?” Dorothea’s smile was wry.

“You have someone specific in mind then?” Ingrid suddenly felt worse; the pit in her stomach bloomed and felt an awful lot like jealousy.

“You’re kidding.” Dorothea deadpanned as she stared at Ingrid.

“What?” Ingrid asked, taken aback.

“Ingrid….” Dorothea huffed, “Who do you know that loves food that I’ve been spending time with recently.”

“Um…” Ingrid racked her brain, thinking back to the past week. “Caspar?”

“Caspar?!” Dorothea asked, indignant. “That isn’t- oh I knew this was a bad plan.”

“Dorothea?”

Dorothea set he basket down and put her hands on her hips, facing Ingrid with a determined look on her face. “You Ingrid. I’ve been spending time with you.”

“You’ve been…trying to learn how to cook for me?” Ingrid couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice.

“Yes!”

“I thought you said this was for a suitor?”

Dorothea stared at her.

“Oh.”

She stared harder.

“Oh!” Ingrid gaped. “Me?”

Dorothea sighed, “Well I didn’t think you’d respond well to jewelry.”

“I thought as the suitor I was supposed to buy you some.” Ingrid said rather numbly.

Dorothea bounced on it, “Oh Ingrid, I’ll accept it.”

“Now hang on.” Ingrid held her hands up. “You’ve been trying to get my attention with food so I’ll court you?”

“When you put it like that it sounds silly.” Dorothea pouted at her.

“You just admitted it was a bad idea!” Ingrid protested.

“Well…yes.” Dorothea relented. “I didn’t think it’d be this hard. My cooking can’t be that bad.”

“No Petra is right, it’s horrendous.” Ingrid blurted out, wincing a little at that response.

Dorothea wilted, “I know. I just thought if I put the effort into it…”

“I appreciate it. The effort that is. Not the food.” Ingrid’s mouth was moving with much input from her brain. “And…um,” She coughed, “I might not mind it.”

“Oh?” Dorothea clasped her hands together, “Does this mean…?”

Ingrid took a deep breath and then bowed. “Dorothea Arnault, would you do me the honour of allowing me to court you?” She straightened herself back up, waiting for Dorothea’s answer,

Dorothea giggled, the happy tinkling noise that Ingrid had grown to love hearing. “I’d be delighted to! Now!” She reached down to grab the basket. “About dinner.”

Ingrid blanched.

“Don’t worry, I’ve been spending the last few days with Ashe and Mercedes. They helped cook this.”

“Oh thank the Goddess.” Ingrid sighed in relief. She blushed a little as she offered Dorothea her arm. “I think there’s a spot outside the monastery that has a good view for the sunset.”

“Keeping me out into the night already?” Dorothea took her arm and winked at her. “Why Ingrid I never knew you were so forward.”

“That isn’t- it’s not-” Ingrid fumbled with her words and groaned. “How about we go to the opera?” At least she wasn’t expected to talk then. “Though I doubt the singer will be as good as you are.”

Dorothea snuggled in a little closer to her, her weight warm against Ingrid’s and Ingrid’s heart beat faster in her chest as response.

“You really do know how to charm a girl.”

“I must have done something right to catch your interest.”

“I told you Ingrid. You were the sweetest.”

#dorothea arnault #ingrid brandl galatea #dorogrid #beej writes #dorogrid fic #idk

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gaamagirl565 · 5 years

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Matters of the heart S2 ep2

Matters of the heart Season 2 Episode 2: The dreamer’s twilight {OPENING CREDITS} {open to the village at night with Isaiah walking through the street} Isaiah: Dad?... Zapada?...where is everyone?... {the street is completely devoid of life} Isaiah: no one’s here?...hehe… {He runs over to the fruit stall} Isaiah: All the apples belong to me! Haha! {he picks one up and bites it; he chews it for a moment before promptly spitting it out} Isaiah: *gags* UGH! What the-!? {Suddenly all the fruit is rotten and the atmosphere darkens; a distant voice calls out} Voice: Isaiah~... Isaiah: huh? Zapada is that you? {A shadowy figure stands in the distance; Isaiah starts walking towards it; pink and green flames shoot up from the ground} Isaiah: AHHHHH!!! {The flames overtake the village; Isaiah tries putting them out but the flames only grow taller; he turns and sees his house burning down} Isaiah: NO! NOO! {Isaiah lurches up in bed screaming; Varian and Zapada burst into the room with Varian holding an alchemy vial at the ready} Zapada: Isaiah! Everything alright!? Isaiah: there...there was fire..a-and the house was...and the fruit stand! Zapada: oh copilul mea, it was only bad dream...Varian for the sake of all things put that vial away! {Varian grins sheepishly and puts it away} Varian: Buddy you okay now? Isaiah: y-yeah just...thanks… {Zapada walks over and kisses his cheek} Zapada: Noapte bună, Isaiah. Isaiah: goodnight… {they walk out of the room; once there gone Isaiah walks over to his desk and pulls out a journal; he flips to a page labeled bad dreams with tally marks; he marks down this dream as the 15th bad dream; he sighs and closes the book; cut to afternoon the next day} Nathaniel: I'm telling you man it's getting harder to put in the work lately... I mean with Dad gone I have to feed my sister and my mother and have enough money to pay taxes. the adult life is rough, you know? Isaiah:..... Nathaniel: Isaiah? Isaiah: *snore* Nathaniel:.... so that's how it's going to be, eh? { he picks Isaiah up and walks over to the river and promptly drops him in} Isaiah: AHHH!! what is the matter with you!? it's freaking cold outside! you want me to get sick!? Nathaniel: what is up with you lately? all you ever want to do is sleep! Isaiah: it's none of your concern and I'm more concerned with the fact that my shirt is now soaking wet! {isaiah climbs out of the water and Nathaniel puts a hand on his shoulder} Nathaniel: come on man you know you can talk to me about anything. what's going on? Isaiah:... ever since I got these powers... I.. Nathaniel: yeah? you going to talk or you going to stutter? Isaiah: I've been having these horrible nightmares... I don't know if it's a side effect of whatever this is…. or maybe I'm just going mad. Nathaniel: you know about a year ago I would have agreed with the sentiment of you just going mad… Isaiah: gee thanks I'm so grateful to have the support of a friend… Nathaniel: let me finish...But now that I actually consider you a friend I'm worried about you. if you don't get proper sleep you're going to end up crashing. Isaiah: Well then how do you suggest I beat the fear then? Nathaniel: well...My dad would always just tell me that it's not real. except that it happened in your mind and then let it go. it never really did help. Why don't you try taking your frustration out on something- WHOA! {He dodges a punch} Nathaniel: that wasn't an invite! Isaiah: oh... I thought you were telling me to... nevermind… {Nathaniel sets up a training dummy made of a flour sack and a pumpkin head and gives Isaiah a stick} Nathaniel: Okay... I've set something up so that you'll be able to get out your frustrations in a healthy manner. this is what I would normally do when I was mad at you. just hit the dummy over and over again with the stick. Isaiah: and this will help my nightmares? Nathaniel: Well I read somewhere that nightmares are usually caused by situations or internal feelings so maybe this will help you… Isaiah: stop reading those books you sound like a nerd. Nathaniel: says the king of nerds… Isaiah: oh hush… Nathaniel: just picture of the stuff that pisses you off or makes you afraid and beat the crap out of it! {Isaiah walks over to the dummy; he pictures one of the wolves that killed Quirin; he screams and starts hitting the dummy} Nathaniel: whoa... a lot more pent-up energy than I thought. {Isaiah pictures the dummy as Cass and beats on it} Nathaniel: ... I think I could be here for a while… I'm sure the Town leader wouldn't mind if I picked a few apples for lunch. {suddenly he notices Isaiah shaking with rage} Nathaniel: Isaiah? you okay man? { Isaiah suddenly begins ferociously beating the dummy to the point of stomping on it} Nathaniel: damn... I'm actually afraid to picture who that one is… { Isaiah Stomps so hard on it that he breaks open the bag of flour and crushes the pumpkin head before falling back against the ground; Nathaniel nervously looks around then walks over to his friend} Nathaniel: ... Isaiah... you okay? Isaiah:...yeah… Nathaniel:.... who was... who was the last person you pictured? Isaiah….. Nathaniel: Isaiah? {pink magic crackles around him} Isaiah: it was me… Nathaniel: What? Isaiah:..IT WAS ME! {he screams out and the shockwave of his anger breaks branches off the apple trees causing branches and apples to fall to the ground; Isaiah backs away from Nathaniel and runs off; cut to Isaiah sitting by his favourite tree flipping through his journal} Lily: thought I’d find you here… Isaiah: huh? Oh hi, Lily… {lily sits next to him and leans on him} Lily: What are you doing? Isaiah: I'm trying to see if there's a pattern with my dreams that I've been having... so far all I've noticed is that involves the destruction of my Village or the kingdom. {lily takes the journal and starts reading it} Isaiah: Hey! Lily:... Isaiah...these are terrible...Wait. this one's about me. Isaiah: Don’t read that one! {he tries to lunge for it but lily moves out of the way} Lily: …. it says in your dream that I tried to stop you... but you slapped me out of the way... and you attacked me well under influence of your powers... Isaiah…. That's horrible. I'm sorry you've been going through this. Isaiah: you're not mad at me for dreaming about that? you're not afraid of me? Lily: why would I be afraid of you? Isaiah, you're my best friend. you would never hurt me on purpose. deep down you know that. Isaiah: I know... but these powers they overtake me whenever they want and I'm powerless to stop them. I try and fight it but.. I'm always afraid one day it'll be too much. Lily: you're afraid one day you won't be strong enough. Isaiah: exactly! what if one day i’m sick or tired and I don't have the strength to fight it off! What if-! {Lily puts a finger to his lips and smiles} Lily: Isaiah... why do you worry so much of what could happen? Isaiah: because the last time I was told not to worry about the future someone very close to me was killed. Lily: ...Isaiah… {Lily hugs him and he hugs her back tightly} Isaiah: I can’t lose anyone else...not again… Lily: Isaiah...I'm going to say something and you need to promise not to get angry… Isaiah: okay… Lily:.. did you ever consider maybe these nightmares aren't a result of the magic and I just you? I mean think about it.. you were fine for a while there and now suddenly these nightmares have started up within the last fifteen nights... you ever think that maybe it was just holding everything back? Isaiah:... you mean that I've been doing this to myself? Lily: kind of...You have a tendency to not talk about what's bothering you… Isaiah: Fair point… Lily: come on... I have something that'll cheer you up. {She leads isaiah to his house and they open the door; streamers hang from the ceiling and a cake sits on the table with everyone surrounding it} Everyone: Surprise! Isaiah: What the-!? What is this!? Lance: it's a party little man! Rapunzel: your friend told us how you were feeling... about yourself. Eugene: we wanted to let you know that we all value you highly. Varian: I'm sorry buddy if I knew you were feeling that way I would have done everything to cheer you up.

Isaiah: who told you all of this and how are you able to set this up so quickly!? {Everyone moves out of the way to show Nathaniel standing there} Isaiah: Nathaniel!? Nathaniel: don't get mushy on me now! I did this because... you really scared me back there. the way you were beating up that dummy and then you said it was yourself that you were picturing... not going to lie that was disturbing. Akina: Nathaniel tracked us all down within the day and told us what was happening! Zapada: we came up with a plan. we were going to throw you the greatest of parties that has ever been in your life. Rapunzel: I was able to pick up a cake from Attila no problem! Akina: I cut out all the streamers by myself! Varian: And I made your favorite lamb stew! {Isaiah’s eyes water and he brushes away the tears} Isaiah: I can't thank you all enough...Each one of you is so important to me.. thank you. Rapunzel: okay everyone bring it in! it's time for the queen to give hugs! Eugene: oh no now you got her hugging! there's no coming back from this! {the Group hugs; cut to flashes of everyone having fun, dancing, eating, and playing games; after everyone leaves Isaiah closes the door and smiles and goes up to bed only to open his door and see Lily, Akina, and Nathaniel} Isaiah: what's going on? aren't you guys going to go home with your folks? Nathaniel: I seriously think he's the only kid I've ever met that has never heard of a sleepover… Akina: it's a slumber party… Lily: what does it matter what it's called? we were worried about you sleeping at night so we talk to our parents and we're going to stay over and make sure that you're going to be okay… Isaiah: really? Akina: yeah! Nathaniel: I was kind of roped into this… {Akina elbows him} Nathaniel: OW! that was my lung! I need that to breathe~! {Isaiah laughs and hugs them all; cut to them all getting ready for bed} Nathaniel: no seriously what is that on your face… Lily: I am a princess and must keep up my Looks.. also it's called a mud mask… Nathaniel: girls are so weird… Akina: I could say the same about boys… Isaiah: Good night everyone… All: good night! {Isaiah blows out the candle and goes to sleep; fade to Isaiah in the orchard} Isaiah: huh... let's see.. the fruit looks fresh at least... this is kind of weird... am I in one of those weird dreams where I know I'm dreaming? because if so... awesome. { he runs about the orchard laughing and giggling to his heart’s content} Quirin: Isaiah… Isaiah:....g-grandpa?... {Quirin nods; there is a moment of silence before Isaiah gets up and runs into his arms} Quirin: oh Isaiah...my brave grandson… Isaiah: Grandpa...I’m so sorry… Quirin: no it’s not your fault. Isaiah: but it is! I should’ve helped you… Quirin: Isaiah what good would it have done if we had both gotten killed? Isaiah: I don't know... I just miss you... I miss you every day. Quirin: I know... you've been doing a good job though... you've been helping your dad. rebuilding the town. Isaiah: I wish you'd come back. Quirin: it doesn't work that way… Isaiah: I know… Quirin: do you remember when I first ever told you? when you were five years old? Isaiah:... not really. Quirin: you were such an angry little boy. I remember I was working in the field all of a sudden this tiny little boy comes barreling out of the orchard into the Northfield. I remember he did a somersault. {Isaiah giggles} Quirin: he started crying I thought because he scraped his knee... I remember I ran over to him and tried to help him. it turns out he wasn't crying because he scraped his knee... because he lost his mother and he was afraid of what was going to happen. Do you know what I told him? Isaiah: what? Quirin: even though it's sad to lose someone you still always have the memories you made with that person. cherish those memories. never let them go. if you hold onto their memory it's as if they never left. you know I'll never leave you, right? Isaiah: mmhmm… Quirin: If there's one last piece of wisdom I can impart on to you as your grandfather it would be to never doubt yourself. you are Isaiah. you're strong, confident, and you are my grandson. believe in yourself. don't let others tell you who you are, you know who you are… Isaiah: I'll do you proud, grandpa… Quirin: I know you will…. {they hug and cut to Isaiah sleeping with a smile in bed} {END CREDITS}

#Tangled #rapunzel’s tangled adventure #tangled the series #tangled oc #TTS #RTA #Next gen #matters of the heart #MotH #Isaiah #tts oc #fan fic

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agentmarymargaretskitz · 5 years

Text

Do You Want To Build A Snow-Mick?

Belated Secret Santa for @dragongoddess13. I’m so damn sorry that I’m late for this, but I hope you enjoy it!

AO3

In the cold night hours, two motorcycles sped down the streets of Washington D.C. Few cars were out, likely returning from somewhere like they had. However, none of the cars or walkers would have thought the two bikers were well-known heroes. Hell, they didn’t even know that they hadn’t just saved the world, but time as well on several occasions. All they saw were two bikers cruising along and passing each other intermittently.

The duo made its way out of the city into the suburbs, noticing that the roads had been pre-treated. In the week that they had been in town, the forecast had called for snow on two different days. None had appeared on said days. That worked out in their favor with the bikes. Not that either of them would have minded a little bit of snow to make things feel more in season.

When they pulled to a stop on the concrete pad in front of one of the houses, Sara Lance took her helmet off and grinned at her companion. “Told you we’d get home quick.”

“There’s barely any traffic tonight,” Leonard Snart replied once his own helmet was removed. “If there was, my way would have been faster.”

“One of these days, we’ll have to see whose route home is better.”

“I know there’s at least a thirty second advantage.”

“Pfft, thirty seconds? Come on, Len.”

Leonard pulled out the keys from his pocket as they walked up to the door. “Still faster. But I’m not shying away from that challenge. We’ll just have to wait until we’re out of winter.”

Sara tilted her head. “It’s cold, but we haven’t had any snow yet since we landed for the holidays. I’m sure it’ll be fine within the next week.”

“Maybe so, but Raymond told me that there’s supposed to a snowstorm coming in a few hours. Showed me his weather apps and everything.”

“Was that where you were when Mick and Gary were cleaning me out with the dreidel?”

The door finally unlocked and both stepped inside, happy to shed their coats and shut the door. Leonard flicked on a light to reveal his smile. “I thought you were kidding about losing in dreidel?”

Sara dumped her helmet on the shelf. “No. That’s why I don’t have any chocolate to bring home. But Mick said you’d lose if you were there too.”

“Did he now?” Leonard raised an eyebrow. “If Lisa was there, she’d wipe the floor with him. I was the one who taught her to play, but she got better than I ever was. It’s been a long time since I was with other people for Hanukkah though. It was nice.”

“Good,” Sara reached over and squeezed his hand. “I’m gonna head to bed. You coming?”

“Yeah, give me a moment.”

She went up the stairs as Leonard pulled out his phone. He might not have had Ray’s fancy weather apps, but the website he tended to look at for weather was also reporting snow for the early morning hours and most of tomorrow. Not to mention that the temperature would be taking a dive as well. He might have been Captain Cold, but he was also a regular human who had been a little more prone to cold since his resurrection a few years ago.

On his way up the stairs, he made sure to stop by the closet and pull out an extra blanket before coming to bed.

“You sure we’ll need that?” Sara asked.

He shrugged. “We can get rid of it if it’s too hot.”

“Fair enough. Night, Len.”

“Night, Sara.”

~~~

Sara knew that when she’d fallen asleep, she hadn’t been too close to Leonard. When she awoke, she was pressed up right beside him. This wasn’t something any of them minded. They’d been together for about a year now. At least he didn’t snore.

What she did notice when she woke up was that it was cold. Sure, they kept the thermostat down at night, but it was never this chilly. As her eyes slowly opened, the captain of the Waverider exhaled and a cloud of white formed in front of her briefly. Awareness of how cold it was in the bedroom seeped into her body more and more. Sara pulled the sheets and blankets closer to herself to warm up more. At least Leonard had gotten an extra blanket on them last night.

Rolling away from Leonard, Sara could see the window and the view of the outside weather. Her eyebrows lifted at the sight of it. Careful not to wake up Leonard, she crawled out of bed to get a better look. She gave a small gasp at the chill of the floor when she tiptoed to the edge of the room. Outside, snow was piling up in the yard and still falling fast.

“Wow,” she murmured.

“Guess Raymond was right about the snow.”

Sara turned around to see Leonard watching her from the bed. “Did you just wake up or have you been pretending to be asleep?”

“I only woke up a few minutes ago, but you’re right,” Leonard agreed while Sara crawled back under the covers. “I don’t know how long it’s been coming down for, but it doesn’t show any signs of letting up. Makes me glad we went shopping yesterday.”

“Well, we had to since Ray had us all bring over something for Hanukkah,” Sara scooted closer to him. “Saves us a trip now at least. We can just have a snow day here instead.”

“Another brilliant idea from the captain. I like it.”

Sara grinned. “I’m not one to mess with when it comes to snow.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You do remember I go by Captain Cold, right?”

The grin turned more devilish. “Then this will get fun.”

~~~

Within a few hours, the couple finally made their way out into the winter wonderland. Snow was still tumbling down from the sky. According to the forecast, this was supposed to be the whole day for Washington. Just in time for Christmas and Sara’s birthday.

“The last time it snowed this much in Central City, I think Lisa was still in middle school,” Leonard smiled as he thought back to that day.

“How’d that go?” Sara asked.

Leonard laughed as he remembered it. “She wanted to build the biggest snowman ever. Mick came over and helped us out. We got it to about seven feet before a snowball fight broke out with some neighborhood kids.”

“Did you win?”

“Pretty sure we did,” he shrugged. “You ever have snow days up in Star City?”

“They came around from time to time,” Sara told him. “Laurel and I always had fun because we could play all day instead of going to school. Sometimes we spent them at the station, other times it was just us at home. We usually walked over to this hill and went sledding with other kids from the neighborhood before the hill got bulldozed for new houses. But we always tried to make this ramp out of snow and see if we could catch some air.”

Leonard could easily see her doing that as a child. “We never went sledding a lot. It didn’t snow a lot, so there was no need to get a sled. When we did, I just repurposed an old trash can lid.”

“Clever,” Sara leaned down and gathered a handful of snow. Thankfully, it was wet and stuck together. There was nothing worse for a snow day than dry snow. “So... a snowman that was seven feet tall?”

“More or less by my estimate.”

“Want to try and beat that record today?”

~~~

The snow kept on falling as the time travelers worked together to roll massive blocks of snow. As they rolled the snow up from the grass, it began to accumulate on the ground once again. It took a little longer than either of them thought. Neither of them had made a snowman for a while, so they forgot how heavy all that snow could be. In the end though, they did succeed in making the planned upon snowman.

“Looks pretty good to me,” Leonard grinned as they lifted the head up to sit on the rest of the body. “And definitely bigger than seven feet.”

Sara was frowning though. “It’s still missing something.”

She bolted towards the house and up the steps. Leonard tilted his head and waited for her return. Within a minute, the door swung open and she came barreling down the steps with an armful of items. Once Leonard saw the carrot, he knew exactly what she was thinking. Even if they weren’t the most traditional of people, they needed a traditional snowman today.

“It needs to be a proper snowman,” Sara grinned as she showed him what she’d brought outside. “I grabbed the stuff that we weren’t using. Good thing we made stew the other day and put carrots in it.”

“Ah, but you’re missing some things too,” Leonard countered. “We ought to give him at least one arm. Maybe a broom for Frosty too.”

“Okay, so I don’t have everything. Want to get those things while I start decorating?”

They worked a little longer on their snowman to make it look presentable. Leonard managed to find a pair of sturdy twigs sticking from the snow and unearthed them from the snow. Both were stuck into the snowman before he went to the garage. A rake ended up taking the place of a broom leaning up against the snowman. Some small stones pulled from the snow near the front of the house worked as buttons running down the snowman’s front.

In the meantime, Sara had climbed up on the bottom of the snowman to decorate his face. When Leonard looked up at her work, he had to laugh a little bit. The top of the snowman’s head was smoothed over and there were thick raisin eyebrows above two round carrot eyes (of course she’d had a knife up there). It even seemed like the snowman was scowling a little.

“Kinda reminds me of Mick when he’s grumpy,” he told her.

Sara simply raised her eyebrows, but a smile was twitching at her lips.

“Sara, you didn’t.”

“Inspiration struck,” explained Sara. “How could I ignore the call?”

He snorted. The two of them were used to being so used to being serious with the rest of the Legends. Whenever they had time off, there was no need for that. They could let loose a little more like they had in the old days when they were just trying to stop Vandal Savage.

“We’ll have to send him a picture later,” Leonard smirked. “I didn’t bring my phone out here and the snow’s starting to pick up again.”

“Sounds good to me. A day like this calls for something warm.”

“I can always do cocoa.”

“We don’t have any whipped cream.”

Leonard shook his head. “That’s not funny.”

Now Sara laughed. “Just a little. I know you and your mini marshmallows. Now let’s go leave our snow-Mick out here and get warm.”

“Snow-Mick?”

Sara winked as they walked back inside and shut the door, embracing the warmth of the house. “I thought you’d like the pun.”

“I never said I didn’t,” he shook the snow off his cap. “Mick’s ego definitely will. Isn’t this the second monument that bears a resemblance to him?”

His partner sighed. “I’d forgotten about that. Maybe we should take a trip to see it soon? After all, we do have time to spare.”

“That we do,” Leonard agreed. “But right now, I’m happy spending that time with just you and not have to worry about any of the other barging in.”

“Or time alarms going off,” Sara added, kicking her boots off and standing up. “Aren’t I lucky to have you all to myself?”

Leonard shrugged off his coat. “Actually, I consider myself to be the lucky one.”

“How about this?” Sara kissed him. “We’re both lucky.”

Leonard smiled down at her. “Now that I can agree with.”

They stayed that way for a moment before Leonard cleared his throat. “So, hot cocoa?’

“Hot cocoa,” Sara agreed. “With mini marshmallows.”

#dragongoddess13 #legends of tomorrow #secret santa #captain canary #sara lance #leonard snart

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monstersandmaw · 5 years

Text

Male drider x male naga (nsfw)

This is a commission for someone who asked me to hold off posting it til today because it’s their birthday. So, happy birthday! I hope you like this. I really enjoyed working with these two characters of yours, and I’m totally in love with Ambrose...

Contents: one naga with some colourful language, one shy and arachnophobic drider boy, some thievery, some fluff, and some smut. Length: 4847 words

___________________________

Aiden cursed as he ducked and wove through the dense pine trees as evening pressed on relentlessly into night and the baying of the hounds and shouting of guards faded behind him.

It had all been going so well until the duchess had returned early to her chambers and caught him red-handed with his sharp, taloned claws in her safe. She’d shrieked half the castle down, screaming about thieving snakes, leaving the naga no choice but to hurl himself out of the window and take a long dive into the freezing, filthy moat surrounding her castle. At least he still had her jewels in his satchel. He grinned wickedly to himself, canines flashing in the dying light of the day.

Honestly, he was exhausted.

His python-like lower half was built for stealth rather than for prolonged speed, and his muscles were screaming at him to stop. The warmth had faded from the day, and the cold-blooded naga was starting to feel the chill as his muscles tightened and began to burn. His underside bore scratches and scrapes from his long flight, first through the remote castle’s extensive grounds, and then out into the wilder woods beyond. Sharp rocks had scored along his thick, red-scaled hide, leaving him bruised and a bit bloody, and he ached all over.

Thirsty, weak, and with nowhere left to go, he eventually slowed his pace, breathing hard, and came to a halt in a quiet glade amid tall, silent pine trees. The wind hissed in the needled canopy above, but down here between the sentinel trunks, nothing moved. The baying of the duke’s hounds had long since faded into nothing, and as he swept his spiky, dark red hair back out of his eyes, he went utterly still, straining to hear any sounds at all. His head swam and his vision went double for a moment. He’d not eaten in days and while that wasn’t normally an issue for a naga, it was going to be problem for him soon after expending so much energy on escaping.

Lightheaded, weak, and shaky, he swayed on the spot.

Something darker than the surrounding shadows moved in the trees up ahead, and he swore softly, trying to get his eyes to focus.

He ground his teeth and drew his body up tall, hoping to look menacing, but the extra effort sapped the last vestiges of strength from him and before he knew what was happening, he had pitched forwards and was lying face down in the carpet of old pine needles. Woozy, on the edge of consciousness, he watched as the dusk-dark body of a drider emerged hesitantly from the trees. He couldn't see enough to make out any features, but the blue-black of the delicate limbs that speared down silently into the forest floor was enough to tell him it was a drider.

“Shit,” he hissed and his eyes rolled shut as he finally succumbed to his exhaustion.

When he next stirred, he was chilled and sluggish, and lying in the dark somewhere. Warmth; he needed to get warm. And where the hell was he? The last thing he recalled was the approach of a drider. He realised with a jolt of fear that he should be wrapped up in webbing, stored for some future meal, if even half of what was said about driders was true. But he was free, if sluggish and sore.

He blinked and tried to push himself upright on shaking arms, his cold muscles reluctant to obey him, and as he shifted, something squeaked at the back of whatever dank cave he was in. A rat?

Still fighting the lingering grogginess, he lifted his head and saw a drider shoot backwards, stumbling over its tangle of spindly limbs, only to sit down heavily and stare at him with wide, panicked, dark eyes. The drider looked young, but into his adult years, and his dark, messy, almost violet-purple hair fell into his eyes as he panted, clearly terrified, and stared at the naga. The skin of his human half was bear and almost pure white, in stark contrast to his dark spider’s body, and his torso was rather scrawny, skinny, and a little pathetic, but flawless as carved marble.

“Hello,” the drider croaked awkwardly. “You’re awake. You startled me.”

“No shit,” Aiden grunted. “Where the hell am I? And who are you?”

“My… My name is Ambrose,” he faltered, following it up with a frankly adorable smile, and Aiden was pleasantly surprised by the little dimples that formed in his cheeks at the gesture. “You’re… You’re in my -” he broke off with a screech and shot sideways, limbs scrabbling on the stony floor as he stared at the floor beside him.

“What the fuck?” Aiden muttered as he watched the drider panic at apparently nothing. “What is wrong with you?”

“Spider,” the drider whimpered pathetically, pointing a slender finger at the spot where he’d been sitting in a mess of dark limbs only a moment before.

Aiden found laughter bubbling up inside him and he roared with amusement, the whole cave echoing with the sound of it. “You’re shitting me!” he wheezed. “Oh that’s fucking precious! A drider that’s afraid of spiders!” He laughed until his sides hurt and his eyes watered, but when he eventually got himself together, he wiped the tears from his eyes and crooned in a patronising baby-voice, “You want me to put it outside for you?”

“Yes please…” the drider mumbled miserably, not meeting Aiden’s gaze.

Aiden snorted, still chuckling to himself, and scooped the tiny black spider up and chucked it out into the forest, feeling the drag of his cold tail and the ache of his muscles. He grunted and winced, rubbing the back of his neck and looking around the cave. “So, this dump is your home then?”

Ambrose’s cheeks flushed scarlet, and he nodded. “Yes. It’s… It’s not much. And thank you for putting the spider outside,” he said. “Normally I just wait over here until they’ve gone away…”

“You have to be the worst spider boy ever,” he snickered, ignoring the way Ambrose’s face crumpled dejectedly.

The drider levered himself up off the ground, arranging his stick-like legs underneath him and, to Aiden’s surprise, the naga realised he was really quite tall. His legs were thin and fragile looking, and his pendulous, midnight black body was covered in silky-soft hair. The tactile naga was almost overwhelmed by the desire to touch it, and drew himself back before he could give in to the unexpected urge.

“Well,” Aiden said, “I don’t suppose you’ve got a fire pit in this hovel, have you? I’m fucking frozen, and I stink from my impromptu swim in that foul bitch’s moat. I need a bath, and I need to warm the fuck up.”

Ambrose looked frankly horrified at the naga’s crass language, and Aiden reminded himself to rein it in a bit. No need to offend the person who’d been kind enough to pick him up and bring him here. He mused on that for a while and then asked, “Hang on a second… How the fuck did you get me in here? You look like one stiff breeze would send you spinning away like a tumbleweed!” He laughed at the image of the poor little drider cartwheeling away on the wind, only to find Ambrose looking hurt and embarrassed. “Ah, shit,” the naga added. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Ambrose mumbled. “I’m stronger than I look though. I dragged you here. I made a litter out of web and pulled it like a sled. You’re heavy, but I managed alright.” He tucked a stray strand of his inky hair behind his delicate ear and added, “There’s a stream just a few hundred yards that way, if you wanted to wash. I’ll start a fire for you.”

Something about the quiet sadness in his voice made Aiden pause. He looked at the miserable looking drider and asked, “You live out here alone?”

He nodded mutely and turned away.

With a sigh, Aiden slithered painfully out of the cave and found the stream. It was freezing, but it washed off the muck from the moat, and with every icy wave that bit into his skin, he promised himself he’d be warming up beside a toasty fire before too long.

Aiden hauled himself back up the steep bank, panting and groaning, his head aching and his vision blurred from exhaustion and lack of food. He let out a string of vile curses when he had to force himself to stop and take a breather. “Damned, fucking cold-blooded snake,” he swore, cranking his tail up the last bit of the incline and beginning his slow drag back to the cave.

When he got there, he found that Ambrose was heating a pot of something over a now-roaring fire, and it smelled amazing. “What’s cooking?” he asked, nearly adding ‘good looking’ for good measure afterwards, but he decided against it.

“Rabbit stew,” he said. “I made it this morning. It’s good to be reheated once more though. Is that alright?”

“Fuck yeah,” he grinned, and Ambrose gave him a very shy little smile in return. Something about it made Aiden’s stomach flip over and he crushed the sensation immediately. It wouldn’t do to go falling for some cute little spider boy when he was out in the middle of nowhere and still had to turn his thieved goods into his guild’s boss.

The two shared their meal in relative silence, but Aiden couldn’t help noticing the way Ambrose always made sure he had enough, and how the drider watched him eat and then glanced away whenever he caught him staring.

“You really don’t get out much, do you?” he asked boldly when it happened for the third or fourth time. “How many other people have you seen lately?”

Tears formed suddenly in Ambrose’s eyes and he looked away. Guilt lanced through Aiden, and he lowered his empty bowl, setting it down on the ground.

“Hey, come on, don’t cry. I didn’t mean to be…” He broke off and turned away. “I know I can be a real dick sometimes. Maybe it comes from having two of them…” he interjected, and then cursed himself for saying something so crude. “Anyway, look, I just meant… you seem nice. You don’t deserve to be shut away up here in the mountains, living alone in a cave full of spiders that you’re absolutely terrified of.” He couldn't help the little giggle at the memory of Ambrose tripping over himself in his terror at the little spider, but his mirth was short-lived.

“I have nowhere else to go,” Ambrose said in a tiny voice.

The way he said it made something in Aiden’s chest crack. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

He nodded. “I’m scared to go out alone. So many people hate my kind. I’m scary to them, but really… I’m… I’m the one who’s afraid.”

“Come with me,” Aiden said before he’d even thought about what he was going to say. The sudden statement shocked him; Aiden was not known for random acts of kindness.

“Where? Where will you go? I saw what was in that bag,” he said, pointing to the satchel with the stolen diamond tiara and necklaces. “You’re a thief and a criminal. What kind of life are you trying to offer me?”

Aiden hissed out a sigh. “You’re right. But I mean… spider silk is really good for healing, and you could maybe work at a healers nearby if… you know… ah shit, what am I saying? I don’t know.” He scratched his head, feeling the rake of his sharp claws over his scalp. “You don’t even know me.” He sighed. “Forget I said anything.”

Ambrose looked at him steadily across the dancing flames of the fire pit. The light reflected in his big, dark eyes, and Aiden felt that strange coiling in his gut again that had nothing to do with the excellent food that the drider had prepared for him. He was strangely beautiful, in his skinny, slightly creepy looking way, but it was easy to see how some folk might be unnerved by the sight of him.

The warmth from the fire began to make his head nod and a drowsiness washed over him as he coiled himself up tightly beside the fire pit a few minutes later.

“You should rest,” Ambrose murmured quietly, coming over and stooping gracefully to pick up the wooden bowl that Aiden had abandoned beside him.

“Thankssssssss…” he hissed, forgetting not to lisp as his body tipped towards sleep before he could stop it. He must have been more exhausted than he’d realised as he slurred, “That wassssss reallygood.”

“I’m glad,” Ambrose said in a soft voice. “Do you want a blanket?”

“Mmm,” was all Aiden could get out before he slipped into sleep.

Inhaling deeply, he stirred and felt the warm weight of a huge woollen blanket over him, and he looked up to see Ambrose on the other side of the cave, curled with his legs stowed neatly beneath him on a wide hammock of web. The thought struck Aiden that he looked oddly sweet like that, and he smiled.

The gentle vibrations caused by the naga waking and stretching must have reached the slumbering drider because he twitched awake with a yelp of distress and scuttled back into the deepest corner of the cave, eyes wide and fearful and unfocused.

“Hey, it’s just me, dumbass,” Aiden chortled. “Remember, the criminal snake you adopted yesterday?”

Ambrose surprised him by beaming a wide smile at him that stopped his slow-beating heart for a few seconds and stalled his brain. Gods above; he was beautiful.

“What?” the drider asked. “Do I have drool on my face? Have I leaked webbing or something?”

“Is that like pissing yourself?” he snorted, shattering whatever moment had hung pendulously between them.

“No,” Ambrose replied, blushing prettily. “It’s still embarrassing though.”

When he looked around and saw that in fact everything was as it should be, with no drool or webbing out of place, he sighed and stretched. Aiden tried not to watch too closely as his torso flexed, but he found that he had to turn away all the same.

Ambrose went lax with a grunt and looked over at Aiden with his big dark eyes gleaming softly. “How are you feeling today?”

“Stiff, tired, achy…” Aiden complained. “But mostly alright, I guess.”

Ambrose’s previously relaxed posture tightened and he looked suddenly as though he were staving off tears.

Aiden moved closer, his smooth, hard scales barely whispering on the cold rock of Ambrose’ dank little home. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing,” he said, trying to hide his emotions behind a wavering little smile. “Nothing…”

Aiden cocked an eyebrow, and Ambrose caved.

“Fine,” the drider sniffed, turning away, legs moving like a clockwork automaton.

Not having legs himself, Aiden would have been lying if he had said that he didn't also find Ambrose’ eight, slender legs fascinating. Forcing himself to concentrate, he shifted a little closer to the drider, who paused when he sensed him getting near, and drew in another long breath before speaking.

“I suppose… I mean… it’s kind of lonely up here in the forest…”

“But this cave is full of spiders to keep you company,” Aiden jested, and Ambrose suppressed a shudder. “Ok, seriously though, if you hate it so much, why do you live here? There’s a town not fifty miles away, and for someone with legs like yours, that wouldn’t be a taxing journey… I don’t get the whole hermit act… Give people a chance… Trust me, there are way scarier looking beasties out there than you. You’re positively angelic in comparison to some of the folk in my guild, let me tell you…”

Ambrose looked over his slender shoulder at Aiden and gave a sad little smile. “You’re the first person who’s ever seen me and not run screaming.”

Aiden’s heart cracked at that. “What?” he breathed. “You’re shitting me! But… But you’re -” he cut off quickly before he embarrassed himself.

“I’m a drider, that’s what!” Ambrose said hotly, drawing himself up tall, and for the first time, Aiden saw him as perhaps others did: more than a little ‘otherworldly’, with his big dark eyes and ghostly pale skin, his long limbs and his rounded, downy arachnid body. “People hate driders. They think we’re creepy or scary, or that we eat their children, or wrap them up in web for later and suck them dry…”

“You don’t?” Aiden snorted. “Damn, I quite liked the idea of being able to say I’d survived a few nights with a monster…”

The hurt on Ambrose’ face cut Aiden to the quick once again.

“Ah, shit,” he said. “I’m sorry. I always run my mouth when I get uncomfortable.”

“See? I make even you uncomfortable!” he said, huge, crystal tears rolling down his pale cheeks. “And you’re a criminal and a thief!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he huffed defensively. “Just because I nick stuff for a living, doesn’t mean I hang around with creeps… Ok, maybe I do, but they’re alright. My crew is alright. We don’t steal from people who don’t deserve it, you know?”

He darted back to where his satchel still lay on the rock and scooped it up, drawing out the sparkling gems.

“The bitch who owned these has a whole vault beneath the castle. She just kept these ones in her room because they were her favourite. She also keeps a tiefling on a leash as some kind of sick pet, and she’s got a centaur whose coat she dyes baby pink and has her paraded around for her amusement. Trust me, I’ve seen monsters, and you, my friend, are not one.”

Ambrose was still crying silently, but he lowered his dark spider’s body close to the floor, legs moving seamlessly like the dwarven and goblin lifting mechanisms at the docks. “I guess I don’t want you to go yet,” he said in a small voice.

“Who said I was going anywhere?” he grinned, wondering what he was getting himself into. This wasn’t like him. Had Ambrose been anyone else, he’d have left him in the dust a long time ago, but there was something about his curious innocence, and the way he had instinctively helped the weakened naga, despite his obvious wariness of others…

Ambrose perked up visibly at that. “You… You mean you want to stay?”

“Maybe for a few more days,” he shrugged, putting the jewellery back in the sack. “Just until I feel myself again, you know?”

“This isn’t you at your best?” Ambrose joked, and he was met with an answering grin from Aiden.

“Ho boy,” Aiden beamed at him, sharp canines showing. “I’m unstoppable when I’m on top form. Just you wait.”

The exchange seemed to have cheered Ambrose up, but when Aiden asked the drider if he fancied showing him around the surrounding forest, Ambrose shrank away again, shaking his head. “I can’t,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“I… I don’t go out much.”

Well, that much was actually obvious to the naga, but still… “Just a few yards from the cave?” he said. “I’m cold and I could use some sunshine on my scales, you know?” he said, flicking his red hair playfully. It was enough to draw a little smile from Ambrose, and he agreed to accompany Aiden to the mouth of the cave, and then just a bit further.

Aiden found himself drawing the drider out more and more, both literally, and metaphorically as they laughed together over meals, or, more accurately, as Aiden scandalised him with tales of his thieving crew’s antics and escapades. However, after another four days, Aiden was certain of two things. The first was that he had stayed too long and his crew would be wondering if he’d just run off with the profits of the heist, and the second was that he was falling for this sweet, intelligent, shy, under-socialised drider faster and harder than he ever would have thought possible.

“Come with me,” he murmured, on the evening when he had decided to announce that he absolutely had to return the next day.

The two were lying beside the fire, Ambrose with all his legs tucked up adorably beneath him so that he looked like a little black cat with its paws scrunched in close to its body. He was also leaning his upper body against Aiden’s, who was coiled around Ambrose’ entire form. He was just long enough to be able to encircle him completely, the very tip of his tail just coming to rest in front of Ambrose’ spider body. Occasionally, the dark tip of his tail would twitch involuntarily, and Ambrose’ eyes would always dart down to look at it, and he would twitch his pretty lips into a little smile every time. Naturally, Aiden did it deliberately sometimes, just to watch his new friend’s reaction.

“I can’t,” Ambrose whispered hoarsely.

“Do you want to?” Aiden asked. “I mean, don’t you want to see the world? Do you really want to live out your whole life in this one cave full of spiders which you’re terrified of? How long do driders even live anyway…?”

His face crumpled. “We can live a long time,” he mumbled. “And no. Of course I don’t want to stay here alone forever.”

Aiden reached his hand out and ran the back of his fingers up the smooth, slightly fuzzy surface of the leg nearest to him. Ambrose shuddered violently and let out a gasp of shock, eyes rolling closed. When Aiden repeated the gesture, a moan spilled from Ambrose’ lips, and it was the most seductive and delicious sound that Aiden had ever heard anyone make.

“Holy shit,” he breathed. “Ambrose, you… the sound you just made…”

“I’m sorry,” he panted, pink flushing his skin from collarbones all the way up to his ears. “That… That felt so good.”

“Has anyone ever touched you?”

Ambrose shook his head, his messy hair tumbling into his heavily lidded eyes.

The naga went very still and removed his fingers from the incredibly soft velvet at the ‘hip’ of Ambrose’ spider leg, where it joined his spider body. “Would you let me?” Aiden asked. “Would you let me make you feel good?”

Ambrose licked his lips and opened his glittering eyes. His pupils were huge in the dark, and he nodded slowly. “Please…”

“You want me to make you feel good?” Aiden asked again. “How far do you want to go?”

“I don’t know,” he said. His pulse beat rapidly at his throat, but he looked determined. “Will you stop if I ask you to?”

“Of course,” he said, and he couldn’t resist adding, “I know I’ve got two of them, but I’m not that much of a dick…”

Ambrose snorted, his lips hitching up on one side. “I barely have one, so…”

It was Aiden’s turn to be confused, and Ambrose’s turn to laugh.

Ambrose blushed and giggled his way through a rapid-fire lesson in drider anatomy, and Aiden was suddenly very interested. “Male driders don’t really have a… you know… I mean we do, but it only really comes all the way out when it’s mating season. Mostly it just stays inside. Even if… you know…”

“So wait, you’ve got a slit, or what?” he asked. “I mean, some male naga have both, so I’m cool with whatever you’ve got going on down there… but that’s… that’s kinda hot, you know?”

Ambrose’s answering blush was so pretty that Aiden felt his cocks stirring already, and the heat must have shown in his gaze because Ambrose’ blush only deepened when he realised. “You think…? I mean… You’re… You’re turned on by me?”

“Yes,” he hissed. “Very much so.”

“And it’s not just curiosity?”

He shook his head. “Part of it is - I do like the idea of something new - but mostly it’s just you. You’re sweet and bashful, and you deserve to be praised and told how beautiful you are. I want to give that to you.”

A single tear rolled down Ambrose’s cheek. “Alright,” he said. “How… How do you want to do this?”

A little while later, Ambrose was on his back, and Aiden was trailing his claws down his incredibly soft and wildly sensitive underbelly. Ambrose jerked and twitched and bucked, crying out and biting the back of his hand as Aiden worked him all over, just getting him used to the sensation of being touched and, quite honestly, worshipped. Aiden noticed almost immediately that Ambrose was getting wet in a very particular place on his lower body, and when he ran his fingertips over it, he discovered a slit that was slick and warm and wet.

“Can I use my mouth on you?” he asked huskily.

Ambrose whimpered and nodded his assent. “Wait,” he gasped, and the naga halted. “Are you poisonous?” His words were slurred and weak, but he cracked one dark eye open and tried unsuccessfully to focus on Aiden through the pleasure of the touches he was still receiving from Aiden’s fingertips.

The naga snorted, amused. “ ‘Venomous’ is the term you’re looking for, and no. No juice in these,” he said, flashing his canines. “Some of us are, but I’m not. Don’t worry.”

And with that, Aiden leaned his weight against the curve of Ambrose’ body and cautiously lowered his mouth to taste him. Aiden’s long tongue lapped at him, finding him slightly sweet and a little salty, and he soon discovered Ambrose’s cock seated deep inside him. As he worked his tongue repeatedly along the length of it, sometimes managing to curl the long muscle almost all the way around Ambrose’s hidden cock, he felt the walls of the slit pulse almost rhythmically, and he knew that it would feel incredible to be inside him.

When Aiden paused and voiced this aloud, Ambrose, who was quickly becoming a whining, mewling mess of limbs and heaving body, groaned, “Yes! Please…”

Aiden looked down the length of his own, scarlet red body, and bit his lip. Not only was the larger of his two cocks fully erect and weeping profusely, but the second, which usually only became fully erect during the naga’s heats, was also hard and slick. “Well, well,” he said. “Look what the sight of you like this has done to me,” he chuckled.

Ambrose managed to open his eyes with a flutter of long, dark lashes, and he smiled. “Beautiful,” he rasped. “I want you…”

Aiden shifted, coiling himself up so that he could slide easily into the slick heat of Ambrose’ sheath. The moment their cocks touched, he felt a jolt run right through him, and he gasped, clinging to Ambrose’ body. “Fuck,” he snarled. “Fuck, you’re perfect…”

Ambrose was beyond words at the sensations coursing through him.

“I’ve never felt so full,” he managed to gasp a few minutes later after Aiden had begun to rock back and forth inside him. “I… I don’t think I’m… I’m going to…” he panted, his body convulsing and shaking with over stimulation beneath Aiden. “I -” and with a rush of heat beneath Aiden, the drider came.

Spurts of thick, hot come pulsed around Aiden’s two cocks, and the naga lost his rhythm and his control, coming with a gasp a second after Ambrose.

Ambrose’ uninhibited yell of pleasure echoed off the walls of his home as he came, his body twitching and rocking with pleasure, while Aiden rammed his eyes shut, cocks buried inside him, and ground his teeth, gasping at the intensity of it. He had never come like this.

It took a while for both of them to come back to their senses, and when they did, Aiden laughed nervously and slid free of Ambrose. “You alright?” he asked, voice hoarse.

Ambrose nodded and tightened his skinny torso, abs clenching as he looked down his body to where his lower half was frankly a mess. “I think I might need to bathe tonight,” he said. Then, with a wicked glint in his eyes that Aiden would never have suspected from him, he added, “Unless you want to go again?”

“What have I unleashed?” he laughed.

In fact, they did go again, twice more, before the dawn.

As they were both tired and spent, washing clean in the freezing stream, Ambrose said quietly, “I think I will come with you.”

“What, you only want me for the sex now?” Aiden joked.

Ambrose remained serious as he said, “No. I was thinking about it before. If you promise that you will help me… I’d like to come with you. I’d like to see something of the world.”

Aiden was not expecting his heart to react in the way it did, but he flashed Ambrose a wide grin. “Great,” he said. “I promise. You’re going to love it. I just know it.”

___________________________

#mlm #exophilia #naga #drider #arachnid #spider monster #monster x monster #male monster #writing commission

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everlarkficexchange · 5 years

Text

To be Her O.A.O. (one-and-only) - Chapter 2

written by: @noneyabidnes

Rating: Mature

Prompt 73: Katniss marries Gale before he’s sent to fight WWII. Gale sends home his buddy Peeta to break the news to his wife and family that he’s fallen in love with someone else in Europe and is staying there after the war… Peeta is under the impression Katniss is a cold woman that only married his friend out of obligation but finds out the other side of the story soon enough. [submitted by @alliswell21]

Tags: era-appropriate derogatory terms for Axis powers, angst

–//–//–//–//–//–//–//–

Chapter 2

The shadows are stretching long by the time we hear hooves coming up the road. Prim jumps out of her seat saying she needs to check on the sheep as Katniss continues dinner preparations in the small kitchen. I try to stand up to help just to have her shush me back down again. I’ve offered more than once, but somewhere in the last couple hours, as we’ve talked about nothing in particular, she’s come to decide I’m an acceptable guest, and I’ve barely been able to take my eyes off her. As she turns her back to me, I snag the rumpled photo back off the table and slip it in my pocket

It’s become my personal challenge to get her to smile as much as I can, telling stories about every Good-time Charley and cracked egg I met in the service. I even managed a blush out of her, and Prim for that matter, delicately explaining why most guys referred to letters from their girls back home as sugar reports. It prompted her to ask me about my own special someone, of which I had to admit I had none. Delly Cartwright and I used to pal around a bit, but last I’d heard she’d gone and hitched up with Thom Quinn after he’d come back from France. I wasn’t surprised to hear she’d fallen for the flyboy, nor was I hurt. She and I weren’t cut out for one-and-only.

I’m still watching Katniss push onions around a pan when she starts to sing quietly to herself. It’s a song from before the war, one I haven’t heard since before I shipped out to Parris Island, but what catches me isn’t sentimentality toward the song, but the rich tone of her voice. Gale never mentioned she could sing. He spoke endlessly about her hunting acumen, how sensible she was, if a bit distant and frigid in her demeanor. He made it seem like getting any affection from her was hard-fought. That even after they had married, he still didn’t think she really felt much love for him. To hear the emotion in her voice as she sings, I know how wrong he was. Not that she was in love—it does seem clear that wasn’t the case—but that she wears her heart where it can get trampled. That this ‘cold woman with a hard stare’ as he often put it, is in fact a woman full of warmth. Each smile I’ve earned from her has felt like a victory and now, to hear her singing as though she’s perfectly comfortable with me in her kitchen, I can’t imagine ever being able to tear myself away from this shack on this rock outcrop of a mountain. From her.

And I immediately fill with shame for feeling it. I shouldn’t be a goner for my best friend’s not-an-ex-wife. We’ve only just met. We know nothing about one another beyond the pleasantries we’ve exchanged these past couple hours. There’s no way I could ever convince her that I’m an upstanding man if I were to tell her the thoughts running through my mind. I’d only confirm her initial misgivings of having me here in the first place.

Prim stomps back through the door with a tall young man on her heels who is the spitting image of his older brother. This must be Rory, the one Gale always speaks about with equal parts pride and frustration. I carefully stand on one leg to shake his hand as he towers over me and Katniss gasps.

“We never went to your mother’s house! Oh no, we got so caught up talking about…what were we even talking about?” She looks to me to fill in the gap and I return Rory’s solid handshake.

“Matters of deep importance, if I do recall. Rory, I presume. Your brother didn’t lie about how strong you are, but I doubt he realizes how tall you’ve gotten. He was always proud of having a coupla inches on you. I daresay you’re taller’an him now. You must have been stealin’ rations.”

A grin breaks out on Rory’s face before he pulls me in for a quick, surprising hug, knocking me slightly off balance. “It’s all the squirrel Katniss keeps feedin’ us. Where is he? Prim wouldn’t tell me anything.” He hasn’t let go of my hand, but he’s looking around the shack, as though the Lance Corporal will appear any moment.

“We should go talk to you mother.” Katniss jumps in. She turns back to the stove and shuffles pans away from the heat. “Come on. Let’s head over there. Rory, can you help Peeta walk?”

“Peter?” He glances back at me and his eyes trail down to my prosthetic propped against the wall by my chair.

“Peeta,” she corrects before I can, and I have to fight the smile that threatens to take over my face at how natural my name sounds on her lips. Lips I’m not supposed to be staring at. The guilt flares again. I have got to get a handle on myself.

“Peeta Mellark,” I fill in. “Your brother and I served together for over two years. Not many guys I can say that about, unfortunately.”

“But he’s okay, right?”

“Yes. Likely already back in Japan with the occupying forces. I would be there too, if it weren’t for my leg.”

His eyes widen, taking in the full extent of the situation. Prim steps up. “I told you, he walked all the way up here. He can’t put weight on it for a coupla days.”

“Can you mount a horse?”

“Sorry, city boy here. I’ve never been within twenty feet of a horse.”

“Huh. Hard to imagine life without one ‘round here. Okay, let’s see here.”

As Rory’s scratching his head, Katniss turns back to the stove and shuffles things around again.

“Rory, just go run and get your mother and bring the crew back here. You can all eat here tonight. I was just tossin’ together some stew anyway.”

He nods at the order as though Katniss were his CO and Gale’s words about her strength pop back into my head. He’s out the door before I can say anything else.

“You run a tight ship ‘round here.”

“Hardly, but I’m his big sister, whether we share blood or not. I carried that boy on my hip as much as any other woman on this mountain, and his little brother even more so. They know better’an to give me lip.”

“Yes ma’am.” I salute her quickly before I return to my seat, surprised by how much standing for the short period on one leg has exhausted me. I feel so far from the strong boot I was so few months ago.

She graces me with another small smile and I find myself berating Gale in my mind. How dare you call this woman cold? With the exception of her pointing an arrow at me when I first appeared on the mountain, she’s been nothing if not understanding and warm. And she sings! How could anyone walk away from her? Just as quickly the scolding turns back on myself. She’s married, you cracked egg! To your best friend! Let it go!

In no time, Rory is back through the door with an even younger version of Gale in tow as well as a young girl who must be Posy. I can see immediately why he is so protective of her. Delicate features that are slightly gaunt, pointing to a rough life. So beautiful and sweet in her countenance. Her large grey eyes take me in and immediately turn back to her big brother.

“He’s Gale’s friend? Where’s Gale?” Rory puts his index finger up to his lips and she falls silent. I reach out a hand toward her.

“Hi Posy. Yes, I’m Gale’s friend Peeta. He sent me here to make sure you were all doin’ well. He misses you so much, li’l sweetheart. He told me lots about you, including how beautiful you are. I’m sorry he’s not here himself.”

Katniss cuts in before I can say anything more. “Where’s your Ma?”

“She put herself to bed early and Vick couldn’t get her to crack an eye when he went in to wake her.”

Silence fills the small room. What would they have done for dinner if Katniss hadn’t invited them over? Looking at the boys, I’m sure they can fend for themselves, but it still reinforces the reason Gale wanted to marry Katniss before he left. She’s the one who makes sure these kids are taken care of.

“Well, I guess there’s no reason to keep it hush-hush,” Katniss starts. “Gale’s doing fine. He got injured back on Okinawa, but he’s back with his battalion over in Japan now. Thing is, he’s not gonna be comin’ home after he’s done over there. He found a lady on an island that loves him and they’re havin’ a baby. He’s gonna stay and live with her after he’s done his tour.”

Posy’s innocence cuts to the heart of it. “But I thought he was gonna have babies with you?”

Katniss shakes her head. “No, Pose, me and Gale never was gonna have kids. We’ve got you guys. You’re all the family we ever wanted. Don’t need no babies underfoot when I’m huntin’ or milkin’ the goats.”

“But you guys love each other.”

Katniss reaches out and pulls Posy into her lap like she’s done it a thousand times. My heart breaks to see the comfort between them. This is Gale’s family. He should be here. How did he walk away from this?

“Ya’ know Posy, you’re right. Gale and I do love each other, but not the way your Ma and Pa loved each other. Not the way Prim and Rory love each other. Gale and I, we know, knew each other inside and out, but we were never big into kissing and hugging. And this lady he met, he loves her much bigger than he loves me. And that’s alright. I’m happy for him Posy, ya’ hear? Happy he gets to have someone who loves him like he’s the most important guy on this here Earth. Someone who can give him babies and make him smile, because he deserves that, don’t he, Pose?”

The little one rests her head on Katniss’s shoulder and snuggles in tighter. “Will you still give me hugs and kisses?”

“Oh, sugar, you and I? We’re together ‘til you can’t stand me, ya’ hear? We’re family. That had nothin’ to do with Gale and everythin’ to do with bein’ there for your first steps and first words, and holdin’ your hand on the way to school. Gale can go have his big adventure. We’ll keep being family here, no matter.”

“So he’s not takin’ you away?” The sweet girl points at me and Katniss’s eyes widen briefly before a soft smile graces her face.

“No, he’s not takin’ me anywhere. Gale sent him here to make sure I was okay, to make sure we all are. He doesn’t want us to be angry with him for stayin’ there. And we’re not, are we?”

Posy shakes her head slowly against Katniss’s shoulder, her hand absently playing with the end of Katniss’s braid.

“Ma’s gonna be angry,” Vick speaks up and all eyes turn to him.

“Well, she’ll jus’ have to take that up with me,” Katniss states, leaving no room for argument. “Now, if you wanna know how your brother’s doin’, this nice gentleman here, Mr. Peeta, can answer all your questions. I recommend you ask ‘em one on top of ‘nother so that he can hardly keep up.”

She slides Posy off her lap and turns back toward the pots on the stove, but not before I catch the glint of mischief in her eyes. Posy doesn’t disappoint, asking everything from what color Gale’s clothes are these days to what the baby’s name will be. She keeps going all the way through dinner and up to the moment Rory picks her up to carry her tired frame back across the field to their home.

Prim follows them out the door, her hand resting on the small of Rory’s back. I’ll have to write to Gale to let him know that Rory’s found his O.A.O., his one-and-only. I wonder how he’ll react to it being Prim. And I’ll have to fill him in on Posy’s interrogation.

Behind me I can hear Katniss shuffling around by the small couch that Prim called her bed. Just moments before Vick was sitting on it with Katniss and as I turn to watch I notice the threadbare sheets that are creating a home for me tonight.

“I know Prim didn’t really give you much choice, but if you’re more comfortable, I can sleep outside or in the barn. I’m usta sleepin’ sittin’ up at this point. I don’t need to be in your space.”

“Don’t you know better than to turn down mountain hospitality? No, I don’t mind you being here. It may not make much sense, but I kinda like havin’ you here. The house feels a little safer, a little fuller. I don’t know, maybe it’s just all those stories you told about Gale and the rest of the guys, but I feel like I already know you. Like you’re just a long-lost friend that Gale managed to wrangle back to the mountain.”

She’ll never know how much those words mean to me, or how she’s brought hope to a man that has felt his worth in the world dwindling by the day, but I try to express at least a little of it. “Thank you. Gale told me you were fiercely protective of your brood up here. I can see why, but yeah, from all his stories I kinda feel like I know all of you as well, although you’re a bit of a surprise.”

She turns to catch my eyes, a question on her lips so I plunge ahead.

“I didn’t know how you would handle the news. Most gals don’t take kindly to word their man’s shacked up with another girl. Since I’ve told you, I’ve seen you smile and sing. I dare say you’re genuinely happy for him.”

Bringing herself up straight and rigid, she rolls her shoulders back, incidentally drawing my attention to areas I’m better off not noticing. “Ya’know Corporal, I am happy. When we got married, I felt like I’d been trapped. I knew it was the right thing to do. I understood why he’d suggested it, but he, well, he had these feelings that I just didn’t have. Only time we ever kissed was after the preacher finished our vows. Shouldn’t a wife want to kiss her husband? We didn’t even sleep in the same house that night! He tried to…well, I shoun’t be tellin’ you all this.”

“You weren’t in love with him and he wanted you to be.”

She nods solemnly. “We needed each other to survive for those many years after our Pa’s died, and he knew I’d take care o’ his family while he was gone. I wasn’t lyin’ to Posy. They’re my family, no matter what. I didn’t need to marry him for that to be so. But he wanted ta make sure his pay came here and that his mother didn’t drink it.”

“If you don’t mind my askin’, has there been a guy you did want?”

Her eyebrow raises, almost like a challenge. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Just wantin’ to make sure no one’s showing up with a shotgun while I’m sleepin’ in your house. I’ve already been shot at enough in this life.”

She drops to the edge of the bed and levels me with her stare. “You grew up in a city, so I’ll excuse you not knowin’ anything about small towns, but let me just tell ya, I’ve known ev’ry boy in this town since the days when they still ran around in nappies. You’re the first new man I’ve met since before the war—ain’t no young fellas been around. They all took off to fight the Jerries and the Japs, and those that stayed behind were chickens and ‘shiners. No, Corporal Mellark, there’s no one poundin’ down our door in the middle of the night who’ll batt an eye at you on our cot, and if they did, I’d point my arrow right back at’em.”

“Hell, you’re like Artemis herself. How could any man resist that?” I retort.

Happy with herself, the grin that splits her cheeks makes up for every bad thing I’ve seen in the last three years. The heavy silence that sits between us stretches on until I wonder if I’m not the only one feeling awake and alive in a new way.

When Prim pushes through the door several minutes later, she finds us still smiling silently at one another. Shaking her head, she walks past us and into the back of the house to where I presume Katniss’s bedroom must be. The spell is broken, but the smiles remain.

“I should be gettin’ to bed, Miss Everdeen. My nurse says I have to rest up and I want to make sure I can help out while I’m here. You got the fixin’s for pancakes in the morning?” I don’t think my use of her maiden name goes unnoticed as she leans in so slightly toward me.

“You just have to sweet talk the chickens into givin’ you a coupla eggs, but I doubt that’ll be a problem for you, Corporal.” Something about the way she says my rank sounds oh so good and my thoughts take a decidedly un-Christian turn, particularly with her sitting just across from me on what sure as hell looks like a bed. Luckily, she takes that moment to stand.

“Goodnight Corporal Peeta Mellark.” It rolls off her tongue, leaving me wondering if the innuendo is all in my head. It has to be, right? No way this beautiful woman could be flirting with someone as damaged as me.

My “Goodnight Katniss” as her skirt swishes past my knees comes out just shy of a whisper, but I swear she pauses to smile again.

I’ve slept sitting up in the pouring rain as machine-gun fire bounced around me. How in the world am I going to sleep tonight?

#Springtime Edition 2019 #submission #noneyabidnes #Alliswell21 #prompt 73

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pi-cat000 · 5 years

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MSA time travel idea (part 27)

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, Vivi POV, 8, 9, 10, Lewis POV, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, Lance POV 18, 19, Lewis POV 2, 21 , 22, Vivi POV 2, 24, 25 Lewis POV 3

Part 28: here

MYSTERY POV

Mystery watches his youngest charge, Vivi Yukino, strangle her new vehicle's steering wheel and is disproportionately concerned. Human emotional drama is an unfortunately common occurrence and, in his experience, rarely leads to any significant long-term consequences. Usually, its effects are fleeting and far beneath his interests.

When had that changed?

Mystery resists an inclination to climb onto Vivi's lap least he risks distracting her and causing an accident. Instead, he watches, somewhat at a loss, while she glares at the road, tense and obviously worried for her missing friend's wellbeing. The lack of room in the compact truck cab has Mystery squashed between the two humans, giving him a good view of both as they stew in silence, discontent rolling off them in angry waves. Lewis, equally upset by their third member's sudden departure, is staring obsessively at the note Arthur had left behind. Not a habit which denotes a healthy mindset from what Mystery understands. Fortunately, he does not have to worry about distracting Lewis, and he leans his full weight into the other. His leaning gets him a scratch on the head but nothing more. An internal sigh and a minor physical huff of exasperation. There is not a lot a dog can do in these situations aside from offer small comforts. The movement does have the additional desired effect of catching Vivi's attention. Her eyes flick in their direction. A few minutes later and they are pulling into a gas station.

"Lewis. It's your turn to drive," Vivi orders, bringing the truck to a stop next to the appropriate pump. Lewis hastily hides the note and Mystery wonders who he thinks he is fooling with the action.

"Sure. Sorry. Didn't realise we'd been on the road for so long. I would have offered sooner." There is some shuffling while everyone clambers onto solid ground, Vivi waving away the apology.

"Don't worry about it. I kind of like it. It feels like I'm driving a tractor around with how high up it is. You know, when compared to the van."

She holds the door for Mystery to exit. There is a convenient patch of grass adjacent to the gas station, and he knows what she wants of him. One of the few downsides to this dog form is the prerequisite that the humans meet his dog needs. At times such as these, he wishes that the youngest Yukino were aware of his true nature to save her from the additional, unneeded pressure. Luckily, Mystery is probably the best, most well-behaved, dog in existence because he's done and jumping back into the truck before Lewis has finished refuelling.

"Where are you going?" Lewis asks after Vivi, catching her sleeve when she shuts the door on him and turns towards the gas station's attached burger stand. Mystery watches the humans share their small affectionate touches through the closed cab window. There has been a significant increase in this touchy-feely behaviour. Another indicator that all is not well.

"I'm just grabbing breakfast. Lunch. Or whatever," Vivi answers, walking backward a few steps, "You keep filling her up. I'll get the grub."

Lewis nods, "Don't get me anything with meat."

"You're paranoid," Vivi snorts, moving away.

"If you worked in a diner you'd be paranoid too. Not everyone is as clean as my parents," Lewis calls at her retreating form.

"Give a wave when you're done so I can pay for the gas as well," Is Vivi light response. Mystery observes Lewis's dementor deflate the moment Vivi is out of sight. The tall human is staring blankly at the petrol pump, mind obviously far from the task. Mystery places his paws near the window ledge, drawing close to the glass to get a better view. He does not believe he has ever seen the human in such a melancholic state, slumped and drooping. Concerning.

Ding. The pump clicks off, and Lewis does not seem to notice. Mystery, after another mental sigh, gives a loud yip to catch attention. Honestly, these human emotional states seemed to be as much a hindrance as they were a benefit.

Vivi returns not moments later with several packets of fries and three burgers, of which he is fed several meat paddies. All his dog food is gone with the van. It's not a terrible loss, dog food being a close contender for the worst part of being a dog.

As they return to the highway, Mystery can't help but admit that, as much as would criticise humans for their erratic and illogical behaviour, this disturbance has affected him in ways he could not have anticipated. When had Mystery lost that impartial distance, carefully cultivated and maintained over decades of human interactions? When had he started to care for the humans he had long sworn himself to? It has crept upon him like the summer fading slowly to autumn. All those blissful years spent pretending to be a dog and getting showed with attention and affection has blinded him to winters approach. This sense of attachment and concern is more binding than any oath.

Of course, like many of his failures, it is only after the fact and long past the point of return, that he realises his blunder. Mystery cannot deny that he has grown to care. He cares not only for Vivi, a quirk he can attribute to duty, but also for her friends to which he has no obligation. Not only does he care, he cares immensely, about both their physical and emotional wellbeing. It is a grave misstep for a being of his longevity.

Nevertheless, there is nothing to be done now but proceed according to his new priorities. It is a shame that he had not fully realised these priorities before Arthur's flight. Mystery, being the only one to have reason to suspect supernatural foul play, could have perhaps acted to prevent it. After Arthur's bright golden aura had simultaneously doubled in strength while also dulling in colour overnight, Mystery had been on the lookout for some form of interference. The sudden reduction of loving pets, riveting games of fetch-the-stick, and instances of Arthur chattering at him about his current interests, also pointed towards Arthur having realised Mystery's secret. An unfortunate encounter with another being like himself fit somewhat in explaining the sudden aversion to all things supernatural.

Mystery has been biding his time while he worked to discover the extent of the human's new knowledge. He had planned on pulling Arthur aside to offer an explanation, belay any understandable fear, and perhaps find a cause behind his changing aura. Now it is too late, and Mystery is left hoping that Arthur's abrupt exit is a result of human silliness and not something more sinister.

"Viv, can you pull up a map to the hospital. I think that's the sign for the exit," Lewis's deeper voice breaks the silence which has been sitting about them like an itchy blanket for the past several hours. A quick glance at Vivi's watch tells Mystery that it is almost 5 pm and they have been on the road for almost four hours since their last stop. His dog body has gone stiff with disuse. Usually, he would play up his dog persona and whine for a break. Today, he lets the façade rest, if only minimally.

"Oh yeah. Sure," Vivi pulls out her phone and begins typing, "We've been past the hospital a load of times. It's in the middle of town on the far side of Milton High. Near the university and that new research centre."

As she talks, she pulls up the map, and, finding no space for on the cab's cramped dashboard, holds it out for Lewis to see.

"I know," Lewis's eyes flicker to the phone and back to the road. The indicator for the turn signal is flipped on. "But I don't think I've ever actually been to the hospital. And this truck is harder to drive than the van, so there's more risk of me taking a wrong turn and getting lost."

Vivi nods in agreement, exhaling, propping up her arm so she can continue to hold the phone for Lewis, "You know, I bet this truck is close to the same weight as the van when you add up all the crap we carry around, but the van handles a million times smoother. Wonder why that is?"

"Arthur does work on it obsessively. Maybe that has something to do with it?" Lewis points out before lapsing into silence his face pinched up in that strained way it does when he thinks of something unpleasant. Silence once again falls over the group.

A traffic jam only servers to sour already frayed nerves, making Vivi jitterily and irritable and Lewis increasingly dourer. Thankfully, the negative vibes put out by the humans mostly disperses upon Vivi pointing out their destination fast approaching on the horizon. The pick-up truck, being too long for any of the hospital's provided parking, means they are forced to circle the block several times over. They find a rest space outdoors, and a five-minute walk from their destination. Mystery watches in slight bewilderment as the humans take exemptional offence to the setback. More erratic human behaviour. Concerning.

The sooner they find their third member, the sooner all his charges can re-establish an equilibrium amongst each other, allowing his own worry and concern to abate. Then- after seeing to whatever supernatural force is interfering with Arthur-he can begin restoring his distance. As much as Mystery has adored watching this small group grow into a family unit, building their positive emotional bonds and being included among them, these erratically negative mood shifts are a harsh reminder that humans are as fickle as they are short-lived.

Mystery releases a tiered snuff, allowing Vivi to carry him against her chest, to hasten the crossing of several intersections all crawling with various forms of transport. Humans did have a tendency towards packing themselves onto smaller and smaller plots of land.

"Excuse me! Mam! Madam!"

Their entry into the hospital is barred by a thin man in uniform grey. The stranger steps suddenly into Vivi's path and Mystery has half a mind to growl in annoyance.

"There are no animals allowed in the hospital. You'll have to leave the dog outside."

"What," Vivi almost barges straight into the stranger, and Mystery feels her grip tighten slightly in irritation, "Crap. Right. Forgot about that."

She swears again under her breath. Once again, Mystery is reminded of this form's disadvantages. Like the now fretting Vivi, he too forgets that dogs are often not welcome into human buildings.

"You go ahead," Vivi is speaking to Lewis, who hovers to the side, "I'll take Mystery back to the truck."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah. Go find Arthur. That's more important. This should only take me ten minutes."

When Lewis hesitates for a second too long she continues with a sympathetic hum, "I'll probably beat you to the room anyway, even with a head start. Hospitals are like mazes and your sense of direction is terrible."

A disgruntled but amused frown follows the joke. Lewis protests briefly, "That's a bit unfair. I only got lost once," turning. He continues into the building while Vivi spins, a few choice words of discontent directed at the still staring security guard, and powerwalks back in the direction they'd just come. They cut across several roads, dodging people and cars alike.

It is not until they are back at the pick-up truck, Vivi having placed him on the ground so she can retrieve keys, that Mystery smells the tangy scent of a human who has had dealings with creatures not of this plane. A quick glance around and it is easy to spot the offending person. The man's aura is warped and stained in several places, and he's watching Vivi from several paces away. Mystery immediately lets out a small growl to alert Vivi to the potential danger. Usually, he would ignore such tainted humans, their presence, while not common, is hardly strange. Humans had an unfortunate tendency towards messing around with forces beyond their understanding. Today, with all the drama, he is on edge.

Vivi's attention snaps to him and then to their surroundings in search of his enacted distress. The man, wearing a scuffed leather jacket and donning an aggressive expression, pushes himself forward upon their combined attention. Mystery notes the wrappings and sling, holding one arm secured, signalling severe injury. The smell of blood and infection confirms his suspicion. With a significant amount of facial bruising, this man is looking awfully mangled in Mystery's expert opinion.

"Hey. You got a moment?" The beat-up human asks in a gruff voice. Mystery growls from down by Vivi's feet to discourage any potential aggression. The action gets him a quick once over and nothing more.

"Saw you arrive with that dude in purple, spotin the purple hair-do. He doesn't work at that weird-ass diner in Tempo, does he? Called 'Pepper and salt' or whatever."

"Do I know you?" Vivi asks shorty, putting both hands on her hips, glaring.

The action gets a grunted, "No. But you might know the guy I'm after. Goes by the name of Arthur. That ring any bells?"

NOTE: Guess which character it is! Just kidding, there's only one supporting character left alive at this point (unless you count Claire the receptionist) so not a huge pool to guess from. Note to self: introduce larger supporting cast in early chapters. Anyway, thanks for the comments on the last part it was genuinely encouraging to see people enjoying sections with heavier character introspection. I wasn't sure about this Mystery POV, so thanks again for giving me the push needed to finish it off. On a somewhat related note, sorry about the wait between parts, it's that time of the semester where everything is due, so updates on this fic are going to be super slow for the next few months. Trust me when I say that I'd pick writing fanfiction over work, essays and exam study any day of the week :(

Part 28: here

#MSA #mystery skulls animated #fanfiction #fanfic #Lewis pepper #Vivi Yukino #mysery #introspective #angst #traffic was the real villain #mystery the dog

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 5 years

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Caramel Skin Under A Purple Rain prt 25 start

Distressed by Lance’s distress, and seizure, Keith went to great pains to make his husband comfortable. The pain Lance was suffering was written all over his face, from his bitten bottom lip to the tight lines near eyes. Lance had scared him half to death when the video on his comms started shaking, his heart in his throat until he caught sight of Lance’s blue eyes open in the top of corner of the transmission. As far as seizures went, it was one the lightest he’d seen his husband have, barely lasting 10 seconds before it was all over. Keith wasn’t sure it even counted as seizure given how quickly it passed, but with how drained Lance was, it most certainly had to be. Getting his husband into the shack and settled on the sofa was easier than expected. Lance reaching for him from the floor of the cargo bay, allowing him to lift him up to his chest with ease and carry him down and straight through to the sofa were he laid them both out, his husband’s head resting on his chest as Keith stoked his hair. He really should have expected a seizure. Trying on clothes had sent Lance into a panic attack. Keith was kicking himself for not considering online shopping. Not only was the variety larger, his husband didn’t have to feel like a freak for wearing women’s clothes, when he definitely wasn’t. People could wear whatever the hell they liked, the only one it really affected was them themselves. And, if he’d really been thinking, he knew Lance had self image problems dating back longer before they'd become a them. He’d unthinkly pushed Lance into a minefield of triggers and felt like a quiznakking douche for doing so. Still. He was proud. He was stupidly happy at the memory of the expression on Lance’s face as his eyes landed on the white cot. Sheer love radiated from him, as if he could see one of their children already sleeping. When Lance fell asleep, Keith went to work. His husband oblivious as he opened up a browser in his comms. Despite his love for Razzel-Dazzel, his husband had wanted plain clothes that would suit him as his body grew. He may be pregnant, but his whole sexual identity rested on him being very much male. Unsure where to start, he types in “pregnancy plain clothes”, because his brain had forgotten that “maternity” was a work. The ads along the top of the browser made him wrinkle his nose. All the blessing and plunging necklines wasn’t his husband. Lance had made it very clear that he wasn’t comfortable with showing cleavage, so Keith was going to do his best to respect his husband’s wishes. Not that Keith had a problem with Lance’s changing body. He adored his husband for him. The brain damage, missing fingered, scarred, scared, anxious and changing him. Yes, there were times when they drove each other crazy. When they didn’t talk for days, but even so, he loved Lance. When he was scared and acting like an idiot, he loved Lance. Seizures still scared the quiznak out of him, yet he was sure with a little time and fiddling around, they’d be able to find a successful way for his husband to be able to take his medication. The most important thing was getting Lance comfortable and feeling safe enough to attempt taking them again. * When Lance woke from his nap, his husband was starving. “Keeeeeith, my stomach is eating itself”, was his actual words, so Keith was sent food shopping semi-alone. Kosmo in a supermarket was asking for trouble. Lance couldn’t stomach crowds at the moment. The solution to the problem was to leave his husband with the remaining ration bars, and on video call, meaning Lance could boss him around while he did the leg work. Keith was sure that they didn’t need as much food as Lance had him fetching. Half the things he wasn’t sure of, nor was he sure of the various cuts of meat he was instructed to buy. It didn’t help that Lance kept changing his mind. Growing tired of it, he left the call connected and stopped listening to his husband’s ramblings, Lance noticing Keith had stopped listening, started singing broken up show tunes, jumping from song to song mid-sentence. Progressively the volume of Lance’s singing grew until Keith couldn’t ignore him further, raising the comms up to scold him, he found Lance grinning brightly as he held onto Kosmo. His idiot truly was one of a kind. Keith’s reward for shopping was to be promptly kicked out his own shack. With the two seater kitchen table sagging under the weight of the bags, Lance started shooing him, “la-laing” over his protests. He was hot, tired and annoyed at not being able to come home and kick back on the sofa with Kosmo. The server had recognised him from his stint as Black Paladin. All he wanted to do was buy goddamn food for him, his husband, and their wolf. Not pose for photos, sign signatures on whatever was available and be followed back to his ship. Voltron was old news. Really old news. He’d much rather be recognised for the humanitarian work, and the work of his team... mostly the work of his team... all the work of his team... He’d take the background character that edges his way out of public sight and mind. If he hadn’t been the Black Paladin, then he wouldn’t be forced to wait with Kosmo outside his own damn home. When Lance finally let him inside his shack, his husband’s hands were covering his eyes. Laughing against the shell of his ear, they nearly tripped as Lance guided him inside “Babe...” “We’re almost there... ok, take two steps to the left for me...” Keith’s stomach rumbled loudly, despite the fact he couldn’t actually see any food. The shack, however, smelt amazing. There was definitely some kind of herby scent in the air and meat... and... he didn’t actually know. He was starving and there was food. That was all he and his stomach were getting at the moment. Feeling his hands hit the wood of the dining chair, he came to a stop “Ta dah!” Dropping his hands, Keith was greeted by Lance’s work comms acting as a candle, a simple green salad, and some kind of stew like meat dish that looked amazing “Y-you made dinner?” Now that his hands were free, Lance wrapped his arms around Keith’s waist, digging his chin into his shoulder as he nodded “Today was hard. My head was all over the place and I not only scared you, but bossed you around, had a seizure, had a breakdown and forced you to have cuddly naps on the sofa. It’s all simple things. I’m still pretty drained, but I really wanted to do this for you. You’re my husband and I love you. I appreciate the things you do. Even when I can’t tell you I do. And now I’m crying... Baby hormones are a force to be reckoned with...” Turning in Lance’s arms, Keith was stunned “You cooked dinner... for me?” “You’re acting like it’s never happened before” There was dinner, and then there was dinner... with a table cloth that looked suspiciously like a sheet, an attempt at candles, and a meal that was actually somewhat adult “This... all of this... I should be the one cooking dinner for you” “I wanted to cook for you. I didn’t do dessert though. My stomach looked at ice cream and said no. Then when it looked at the cake boxes... it got worse. You can totally knock yourself out though. I think I put things away in the right position. I mean, I tried. I gave the fridge a wipe out while you were ignoring me. Kosmmmmn-“ Silencing his husband with a kiss, Lance’s mouth tasted of mint, his husband having found time to brush his teeth. Indulging himself, Lance broke the kiss as Keith grabbed a fist full of hair to deepen it “You’ll have to save that for after dinner” Though playfully toned in his reply, Lance’s scent had shifted to fear. Keith momentarily hurt, then reasoning his husband had had a long day. He’d hit his limit and though the touch wasn’t unwelcome, his anxieties weren’t in his control “I’m looking forward to. Especially if it’s as good as this meal looks” “It’s... uh... Let’s eat. Yeah. I don’t know what I was about to say, but I’m hungry” Dinner was amazing, but dessert was better. Splitting the washing up with Lance washing and Keith drying, they settled down on the sofa to watch a movie. Cuddling into his husband, Lance has his arm wrapped around Keith’s shoulders as the movie began. For the life of him, Keith couldn’t remember a single thing that happened. He was too focused on the way Lance was looking at him. The love in his eyes was on a whole other level. A level Keith felt he didn’t deserve, yet was grateful as quiznak to be receiving. This was the shack he was conceived in. This was the shack where his parents fell in love and he was born. This was the shack that was the last remaining solid remnants of his father. Willed to him, along with everything the man owned, then left to sit after death until Keith found himself with no where to go. Now he was living here with his husband, all be it temporarily, who was pregnant with their children. Normally he wasn’t one for nostalgia, if asked that is, but having his husband here. Having his family here... He was struck hard with waves of emotion. A life where he came home fo Lance everyday... that... he wanted that. He thought that was how things would be with the outpost, even if he couldn’t return every day, it’d be at least once a movement. Only. Before he knew it he’d left Lance struggling for phoebs. Lance was far from alright. Keith knew he wasn’t being completely honest over how many things he’d missed or how many ways he’d hurt him by accident. He knew because his husband was a decent and kind man. He’d take every ounce of another’s pain if he could. He was a selfless and reckless pain in the arse, that adored to point of possessiveness. He knew they wasn’t healthy, but when your husband has a habit of ”accidentally” getting himself into trouble, it was natural to want to be by their side to prevent something going wrong. “If you don’t like the film, I can change it” Brought back to reality by Lance kissing his cheek, Keith felt himself blushing for no reason “Sorry. What was that?” “The movie, if you don’t like it, I can change it” “It’s fine...” “Your head’s up in the clouds anyway?” Keith nodded, wriggling down lower to cuddle into Lance further “Wanna tell me what’s going on in that head of yours, Samurai?” Keith sighed softly “I was thinking about how lucky I am to have you” Kissing the top of his head, Lance echoed his sigh “I’m the lucky one. I’m so fucking lucky you haven’t got sick of me yet” “Like I’d get sick of you. I was thinking about how I was born in this shack and then about how nice it is to have my family here, with me...”

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