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deecotan · 2 years

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Do you have a list of favorite zosan fics? Sorry if someone's asked this before x.x

Hooo boy, this is going to be challenging because there's simply a lot of fics that I like and it's kind of all over the place depending on my mood, but I'm going to make a general list of some of my favorites and a short summary of why I like them.

This is going to be a little long so I'm going to put them under read more!

Sketches of Life (and Love) by Fledgling — An exploration of a headcanon where Sanji likes to draw in his free time. This fic always leaves me with a warm feeling every time I read it because how endearingly sweet it is. It's basically a domestic fluff story about both ZoSan and the Strawhats crew in general.

green with envy blues by adietxt — A cute fic about Zoro being jealous. Jealous!Zoro has been one of those tropes that make me screech like a feral animal every time I come across it and this fic does exactly that. It's pretty short and simple but it captures the characters very well. It's set during pre-timeskip which makes it even better to me because pre-TS Zoro possesses that boyish quality that post-TS Zoro doesn’t necessarily have anymore.

Old Men Blues by postmoderne — Quoting directly from the fic's summary, “Sanji and Zoro: two ancient fucks (in love).” because this is exactly that, a story about old men ZoSan. Old Zoro and old Sanji are both still as stubborn as ever and it's endearing.

Meet me under the orange tree by candelina — A canon divergence AU where Zoro and Sanji met as kids, as Zeff opened up Baratie in Zoro's hometown. It's an adorable and heartwarming story of little Zoro and little Sanji's friendship. There's also a part two which is also worth reading.

Other fics from candelina: The whole world will know, another fic about old men ZoSan, this one involves Zoro deliberately showing himself to the Marines for god knows what. It's sweet, it's beautiful, and it shows that Zoro is as reckless and idiotic as he is a loving, devoted husband.

Zoro's Boyfriend, Who Lives In Canada by donutsandcoffee — Modern AU, where Zoro's friends try to stop him from believing that his imaginary, totally made-up boyfriend actually exists. Of course Zoro's boyfriend doesn't actually exist, because with the way Zoro describes him he's way too perfect to exist and how can anyone so perfect actually exist? A hilarious story of misunderstandings.

Other fics from donutsandcoffee: My other favorite stories would be Prison Blues and it’s a long way forward, which serve as both a ZoSan story and a great Sanji character study.

The Three of Swords by 8ball — A medieval AU with knight Zoro and prince Sanji, a concept that starts to really grow on me after I begin to read this fic. In this story, Zoro is a cursed knight appointed to serve Sanji, a deeply kind-hearted prince whom Zoro eventually pines over. It's a beautiful take of prince and knight AU; devoted knight Zoro is something that I didn't know I need. It also has a sequel.

Steady, As She Goes by auspizien — I've always loved auspizien's fics and this is the one fic that made me fall in love with their writing. This is a modern AU story where Zoro is an ex-agent with PTSD who meets and befriends Sanji, a paramedic. It's a multi-chapter fic filled with humor, angst, pining, action, and good ol’ slow-burn.

The Tribulations of Tempation by SweetyGreeny — Zoro accidentally sees Ace and Sanji doing... the do, and then spends days after that feeling shocked, confused, angry, and disappointed. A simply delicious story of pining and jealous Zoro. There's a slight AceSan in the beginning but the endgame is still ZoSan.

Other fics from SweetyGreeny: A Siren's Sinking Song, a canon-divergent AU where Sanji is a siren who one day meets a peculiar swordsman from a wandering ship; this story is beautiful and I love the idea of siren!Sanji, but please note the major character death TW. The Burden of Blondes, Sanji finds out that Zoro has a thing for blondes, and for some reason he feels uneasy. A fun story with some good smut.

(I Want) Someone to Love Me by three_days_late — Sanji is about to turn 17, so he hopes that he can get his first kiss before that. A cute high school AU that involves everyone wanting to kiss Sanji (honestly, who doesn't) but only one person gets to actually do it.

Other fics from three_days_late: Blood Red - this might be a little biased because this fic is inspired by my comic, but that's also a perfectly good reason why I must add it here; this fic is able to capture the spirit of the comic perfectly. If you want to read a short exposition of Zoro showing his protective side, then this fic is worth the read. The Christmas Swap, a modern AU in which Sanji and Reiju switch partners during Christmas so they can attend their family gathering without having to come out as queer. It’s a wonderful story about family, relationships, and what it feels like to be closeted. The Only Way Out (Is Through), a beautiful Prince Sanji and Knight Zoro story, where circumstances forced them to be unable to be together - and it also has a side Nami/Vivi.

Curly Angel by APTX (translated to English by NMTD) — In this alternative canon universe, everyone has a guardian angel, and Zoro's just happened to be Sanji. Hilarity ensues. I have to admit that I absolutely love all of APTX's ZoSan fics, but since most of them are in Chinese, if you're like me and doesn't mind reading some really botchy translations of said fics, then you can try using Google Translate to read them.

Let me be your Inspiration by TheWanderers — College AU where Sanji is an artist/painter - another fic that explores Sanji as someone with an artistic streak, but also so much more. It's a beautiful story that starts out with Zoro having to model for Sanji's painting but ends up falling in love with him. I love the way the author adapts the characters' canon backstory into this universe.

Thy Fearful Symmetry by Harubo — A modern AU where Sanji is a tourist visiting a tiger reserve during a family vacation and Zoro is a detective investigating a poaching ring. All of Harubo's fics are godsend but I particularly love this one because the setting reads like a perfect rom-com drama movie about a stressed, overworked chef meeting a handsome detective. There's also a nice tidbit where the Vinsmoke siblings are trying to get along with each other.

Retrogade by Hazel_Athena — Sanji got badly injured after a fight, and ends up losing a big chunk of memories - he doesn't find it too bothersome until he notices how weird Zoro starts to act around him. It's a really good temporary amnesia fic with some really delicious pining!Zoro material.

Done Dirt Cheap by Balderdashfromafool — Basically a Western ZoSan AU, where Zoro is an outlaw and Sanji is a small town chef. This one is fun and lovely, and as someone who doesn’t read a lot of Western-themed stories, I love the way the author describes the Western setting in this fic.

Each A Love Song by Shadowcatxxx — Sanji is frustrated because Zoro's surprisingly popular with women when he doesn't even like them back. A story of a confused Sanji trying to find love and being the World’s Most Oblivious Man.

And that's all for now! It got way longer than I initially thought....there are some fics that I exclude, mostly the more explicit, PWP-type of fics, as well as Omegaverse fics, because my taste on them tend to be more specific and self-indulgent as ever. I might need to make a separate post for that, and also like feel free to ask me about them anytime.

I really hope I've done these fics justice with my summaries. I can't overstate how talented these authors are, so please shower them with love, kudos, comments, attention, etc etc if you have time.

#zosan fic #zosan fic rec #deeco's fic rec

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quiznak-ofgrayskull · 2 years

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Um. I think I just wrote a whole essay on Ninjago love triangles I'm so sorry.

Has anyone ever touched on the parallels that Ninjago draws with its two love triangles? Like. Nya and Misako, Jay and Wu, and Cole and Garmadon (as the love triangles are presented in canon). Like I know both love triangles were shoehorned in, blah blah blah, but I enjoy the trope shush.

So like both Misako and Nya (until her elemental powers were revealed to her) were both normal people who were stuck with all the cool elemental masters.

Jay and Wu were the usual "good guy" in accordance to how love triangles must work, that the person typically ends up with. Falls in line with the "young Wu was an absolute dumbass" hc (is it canon? idk-) as well as with both of them being a bit more romantic in nature (the awkward s1 date, and the sappy love letter)

And Cole and Garmadon are the "bad boy" alternative (once more in accordance to Love Triangle Rules, and possibly one of the main reasons the Nya Jay Cole love traingle does not work - Cole doesn't fit this), and they come in to disrupt the "endgame" couple. And character parallels are a bit more difficult to draw because Cole really doesn't fit this, but I suppose they could both be more subdued characters (compared to Jay and young Wu), as well as not very romantic in nature (Garmadon not writing his own sappy love letter (that we know of), Cole in general). Cole is definitely more level headed than Garmadon but still.

And then where the relationships diverge: The endgames. Because Misako actually went with the "bad boy" character, which from what I've seen doesn't happen often. That sort of character is typically there to add tension for the inevitable endgame, but Misako actually did choose Garmadon.

And Nya chose Jay, which does fall in line with the actual love triangle logistics.

I'm not good enough at analyzing things to pinpoint exactly what this means about the characters, if it were to mean anything at all. Like, is there technically a right choice? Is the "good" guy the right choice, and did Nya learn from Misako's errors? Did Misako make a specific error that Nya never even had to face? Did Nya make the wrong choice because she'd never considered anything else before? (Or are they different characters under different circumstances in which different choices were made, may the be good or bad?) And listen, I am well aware that the love triangle isn't good writing. I enjoy it because I am stupid. But if there was a point trying to be made, I think it's interesting.

Plus how it affects the relationships between the romantic rivals. Brothers and best friends, respectfully. Like, the rift that it creates between both groups, and the friendships that have the potential to be destroyed over romance- which is actually quite rare from what I've seen in these tropes. Typically the romantic rivals aren't so close? They know each other, of course, but rarely is their own relationship being compromised a focal point. And yeah, I know it's annoying to see romance being put on a pedestal above friendship, but it's also just interesting to me.

Like, Misako, and Wu and Garmadon's rivalry mattered so much to the two of them that years later, Wu got mad over the letter. Like, as adults, that affected them. And Jay and Cole being able to resolve it, and be friends despite it is also very cool to me.

And Wu being hung up on it shows the general lack of resolution that he got from that. He might have been waiting for a response for his letter, that he put all his heart into (to the point he forgot to sign it), only to find out, in a letter from Misako he had hoped would be for himself (or maybe one from his brother), that the two were together. Maybe that stung a bit, that Misako hadn't even mentioned his letter. Maybe he wondered about it, why she never mentioned it one bit. Maybe he put the pieces together, but brushed it aside as jealous speculation, in favor of trying to support his brother. Maybe that's why he got so angry when he found out.

And I think we can agree that it never really mattered as much to Cole as it did to Jay, which also makes for an interesting dynamic. Their friendship was strained more so from the rivalry than the romantic rivalry. Jay was super invested in it, and Cole probably just wanted things to go back to normal (maybe he was just competitive, or got carried away in general). And I think Jay and Cole's friendship being more important, and resolved first, is actually really cool. I really love that scene in season four, always have.

Not to mention Jay and Cole being separated for a long period of time between seasons 3 and 4, which let feelings, and misdirected anger and grief fester. At that point, it was a lot more than Nya.

Same with Wu and Garmadon, probably. Not so much canon evidence, but I can imagine that after so much, they got bitter over the whole thing, too. Wu did, at least.

Okay I think that's it? If anyone wants me to rant more about the ninjago love triangles I will do so gladly (clearly). Though I severely doubt there's a market for this. Pretty sure it's one of the least favorite writing decisions ever made in the show. That does not stop me though-

#ninjago #wu garmadon #ninjago garmadon #ninjago misako #nya ninjago #jay walker #cole ninjago #I cannot believe I wrote all of this #I hope this makes sense #please enjoy my senseless rant #I should write a oneshot about this or something actually #does this count on its own?#please someone else understand me and my stupid love for these idiots and their stupid love triangle please I swear it's not *that* bad #it might be that bad

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matchaball · 7 years

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parallel lines

AN: Hello hello @convenientalias !! I am your secret santa this year! :D I saw that you particularly like canon-divergent fics and decided to go off on that and do a slow reveal between these dorks :') Hope you enjoy, and Merry Christmas!

Giant thanks to @mlsecretsanta for organizing this enormous event!

EDIT: I also must thank @ming85 5 billion times over for helping me out with this fic and for kicking my writer’s block square in the butt. You’re a star!! <3

( AO3 )

1. they say, seeing is believing.

“Could you pass me the icing please?”

Adrien bends down close, melding his personal space with hers, but Marinette leans into it and hands him the bag of icing sugar lying beside the gingerbread house she’s decorating. Another time, she would have blushed uncontrollably at the way her fingers brush his, and she would have thought of literally nothing else for the next few glorious days moments.

Instead, she has to do everything in her power to not drop her gaze to where the breast pocket of his jacket lies beneath his apron. She can see the slight bump in the fabric anyway, out of the corner of her eye.

She’s seen him. The kwami.

The black cat kwami.

(She could’ve chalked up Adrien walking out of the same alleyway she saw Chat duck into after a particular harrowing akuma attack as a funny coincidence, but then the punchline came zooming out of his jacket pocket demanding cheese, and she knew.)

Which means…

Instead of decorating, Marinette leans back a little and openly watches Adrien as he concentrates on piping eyes and a mouth on the little fondant figure he’s sculpted. His tongue sticks out just the littlest bit, and his tousled hair glitters with the sugar that exploded over him from Tom greeting him with a great bear hug earlier.

It’s as subtle as a shift of light, but now that she knows what to look for, it’s as clear as day and night.

She sees Chat as clearly as she sees Adrien.

His eyes focus entirely on the task at hand, but her gaze seems to nudge at him until he looks up at her.

Marinette’s breath catches in her throat as those brilliant green eyes blink slowly at her.

(She wonders if she could make him purr.)

“Am I doing this right?” Adrien asks, a shy, uncertain smile growing on his face in light of her unwavering stare.

Another time, Marinette would have babbled to the ends of the earth to assure him he’s doing grape- no, gorgeous- no, great, and she likely would’ve knocked everything off the table in the process. But the bump in his jacket pocket is there, and he looks far too reserved for the friend, and partner, and so much more that she knows him to be to her so-

“It’s purr-fect,” Marinette declares, winking as she taps his nose. Like flicking a switch, Adrien’s face lights up with a familiar mischievous grin.

“It is, isn’t it,” he agrees with exaggerated pride as he holds up his handwork. One eye is smudged and the smile wobbles on one end, but the iced blue pigtails and pretty pink fondant outfit makes it undeniably Marinette. “I’m sure you could get bread-er if you didn’t loaf around so much.”

“Oh, you don’t want to start that with me,” Marinette smirks. “At the very yeast, save yourself or else you’ll be toast.”

Laughter blooms from her chest, as light and airy as cotton candy, and it grows ever bigger as Adrien seems to do a double take at the easy way she volleys puns back at him. He flounders for a moment, clearly teetering between bemusement and delight before relaxing into an easy smile she’s seen hundreds of times, framed in black leather and shared high up among the rooftops.

“Well,” Adrien sighs theatrically, “I guess that’s just the way the cookie crumbles then.”

Marinette’s hand instinctively stutters to her hip, her fingers searching for the tiny purse that cradles Tikki. Her too-loud laugh hastens to cover her transition to grabbing a fistful of chocolate chips on the table.

“Careful what you wish for!” Marinette teases.

It takes a second for Adrien to realize what she means, but a second is all she needs to launch said chocolate chips at him. Glee lances through his eyes before he lunges forward, mouth open and aimed at the delicious projectiles. A few bounce off his face, and more evade him still as they fly to land softly in his hair.

She flicks one more. He goes cross-eyed in his attempt to catch it- and luck lands it squarely on his waiting tongue.

They both freeze, absolute surprise mirroring across both their faces, before Marinette breaks it with a cheer. Adrien fist pumps into a dramatic victory pose and it’s pure Chat, through and through. Her willpower pushes down the natural instinct to fistbump him, and she settles for grinning broadly at him instead, sharing in the victory.

“That’s definitely my hardest accomplishment of the day,” Adrien laughs, his cheek puffing out as he sticks the chocolate chip to the side to suck on.

“Sculpting me definitely didn’t take you all day and was the easiest then, wasn’t it.”

“Piece of cake,” Adrien grins. “Actually more like, the icing on top of the cake.”

He gestures to the magnificent gingerbread house taking up most of the kitchen table. Its candy cane balcony and translucent sugar glass storefront windows makes it a close replica to the bakery and her home.

“I think the house is pretty much decorated,” Marinette decides, tilting her head in thought.

��Not quite,” Adrien insists. He hunches over his work and concentrates on adding the finishing touches, before straightening up and gently, carefully placing his little fondant figure up on the balcony. Fondant Marinette beams up at them with her icing sugar smile and glittering sprinkle eyes, perfectly framed by the gumdrop fairy lights strung along the gingerbread rooftop.

It’s technically complete, and yet…

“It’s missing one more thing,” Marinette declares. She scoops up some leftover fondant and briskly, expertly moulds them into the exact shape she wants. Her fingers fly as they collect icing sugar and sprinkles for decoration, and several heartbeats later, her creation comes to life between her hands.

She hesitates, then settles the little black cat next to her own sugar figurine on the balcony.

“There,” Marinette says, softly. “Done.”

A part of her, the cautious, logical part, clambers immediately for her to rewind and redo, because this felt about as subtle as a brick, but the larger part of her, the braver, curious part, looks up, and watches.

She spots the breath that catches in Adrien’s throat for just that split second, spots the bump in his breast pocket shift ever so slightly, and she wonders briefly if his heart is beating as fast as hers. He turns to look at her, green eyes focused thoughtfully, intensely on the open book of her face, reading between the lines. He looks for an answer she’s not sure she can give.

It’s a look Marinette’s seen before, when her Lucky Charm is cradled between her palms like a giant question mark waiting to be solved.

There’s always a split second, a terrifying, infinitely long second, where she’s not sure if she can do this- be the person with the answers, be the infallible superhero, be Ladybug. The fear is irrational, she knows that- and yet no matter how often the fear comes to seek the cracks in her confidence, it never lingers.

“Less a house now, I think,” Adrien says, a smile curling up to warm his expression into something soft, something hopeful, “and more a home.”

He sees her, and she believes.

2. they say, believing is knowing.

Believing was never the problem, with Adrien.

It just happens to fall into his particular blend of trust and optimism. Why wouldn’t he believe that Hawkmoth will be defeated, that that they could have a white Christmas, that Plagg could potentially eat something other than Camembert?

Call him romantic, or foolish, or naive, but he likes to hope. And no matter how tiny the hope, he holds on and doesn’t let go.

Except he might have slightly miscalculated how much holding onto this particular hope could cost him.

“Get out of the way, GET OUT OF THE WAY!” Marinette screams as she rockets towards him, arms flung out in a desperately futile attempt to balance herself. Her skates knife across the clear ice as she accelerates towards him like a furious, pink torpedo.

Adrien gracefully glides out of her path and snags her arm as she zooms by. She swings around his pivot like a yoyo until she’s safely reeled in and stopped within the bracket of his arms.

“This looks like the opposite of getting out of my way,” Marinette muffles into the blue of his scarf.

“You’re welcome,” Adrien laughs. He carefully moves back, never letting go of her mittened hands. “Ready to try again?”

A fierce, determined look flashes through Marinette’s eyes, and at her decisive nod, Adrien slowly begins skating backwards. Their linked hands tug Marinette forwards, and soon she’s wobbling along as he guides her across the rink.

It’s funny, how flipping across the rooftops of Paris as Ladybug is as natural as breathing, yet a simple layer of ice proves to be her ultimate downfall. It’s funny, how she can nail a pinpoint landing onto her balcony for a detransformation that he accidentally spots, yet the simple act of even turning her skates proves impossible without his help.

Adrien’s fingers tighten protectively, possessively over Marinette’s, and his heart is the one stuttering and tripping as Marinette glances up at him, cheeks pink from the cold, blue eyes sparkling from the lights strung around the rink, mouth stretched wide in a grin as they complete a full circuit without stumbling once.

Honestly, it’s a miracle he can still function around her now.

“Ok… I think I’m getting the hang of this,” Marinette says slowly as they begin to circle around once more. Her fingers squeeze his, then begins to untangle from his grasp.

“Are you sure?” Adrien asks, reluctant to let go.

“Yes,” she answers. A pause, then, “Maybe. Stay close… just in case.”

A worried knot within Adrien’s chest loosens at that, and this time he can let her go. He gracefully turns himself around so he’s by her side, and adjusts his pace to match hers. It takes a few minutes, but soon enough they’re mirroring each other, stroke by stroke across the glittering ice.

“Not bad, for someone who hasn’t skated since she was three,” Adrien teases as they maneuver around a pileup of kids and their pylon cones.

“I can start just fine,” Marinette protests. “Stopping…”

The mere thought has her wobbling dangerously for a heart-stopping moment. Adrien reacts before he can think, his hands shooting out to steady her to him. He doesn’t miss the way Marinette’s hands fly to the pocket of her peacoat, and he has to resist his curiosity to ask about her kwami.

“You’re gonna need steel-toed skates at this rate,” Marinette grumbles as she rights herself.

Adrien stumbles and covers it up with a loud laugh, because oh, the irony.

“I’ll wear them next time,” he promises with a wink, “just for you.”

Princess almost escapes at the tail end of his sentence but he catches himself just in time. The word lingers in his mouth, sweet as sugar, but a pause still seems to bubble up anyway in lieu of the endearment.

Marinette merely reaches up and taps his nose fondly. “Silly, they’re protection for you. It’d be just my luck if I skated over your toes or something equally horrifying.”

“Sounds more like my kind of luck,” Adrien chuckles, feeling Plagg shift in his pocket.

“Maybe we’ll find a balance, between the both of us,” Marinette laughs. Her skates catch upon a patch of rough ice and she lurches forward with a, “Oh n-”

“-ope, not today!” Adrien finishes as he catches her yet again and steadies her until she’s solidly upright. He laughs, long and loud, as she puffs her cheeks at him, amusement and exasperation mingling in her eyes. “Looks like we already balance each other out.”

“You’re being way too nice,” Marinette huffs. “I haven’t done anything except almost take you and everyone else out the whole time we’ve been out here.”

“You’re dazzling,” he counters confidently. The sentiment comes out a little more honest, a little more heartfelt than he’d intended, and Marinette’s cheeks go pink right alongside his at the compliment.

“...sounds like a challenge,” Marinette comments after a moment. The smile she sends him is pure Ladybug, confident and daring.

The grin he sends back is all Chat, with mischief curled in the corners. “Only if you can keep up.”

“Keep up?” Marinette laughs, tossing her head back. “You’re on.”

She digs her skates in, and flies, blowing right past awkward fumbling and into breathtaking speed. Adrien whoops as he pushes off after her. The wind whips by his cheeks and playfully ruffles his hair as they chase each other around and around, a dance they’ve done dozens, hundreds of times up among the rooftops and framed against the endless sky.

“You’re a natural!” Adrien laughs breathlessly as Marinette glides to a slow, panting stop.

“It’s easier when I’m with you,” Marinette grins. She shrieks as he pulls up next to her with a hard stop that sends ice shavings flying in a spray of glittering white. They catch the light, turning into wings, into butterflies, that perfectly frame the way her laugh rings through the air.

It’s such a little snapshot of a moment, but it’s extraordinary in that it’s theirs.

Adrien’s always believed in Ladybug, but believing in her twice- loving her twice- makes him know.

Marinette is better than hope; she is real.

3. they say...

“I thought we said no presents this year,” Ladybug says, eyeing the bright pink package held between Chat’s hands.

“We did,” Chat nodded blithely as he gestured to the sky blue bag dangling from Ladybug’s fingertips. “Clearly we’re both great at following rules.”

They only ever had one hard rule though- and evidently that had been too difficult to follow as well.

“Well,” Ladybug chuckles as she sits down at the edge of the rooftop and pats the space next to her for him. “At least we’re on the same page.”

“Always, My Lady,” Chat grins as he folds himself down next to her.

They sit in peaceful silence, enjoying the lingering smell of chestnuts and hot chocolate from the markets that were open earlier. Fairy lights still twinkle through the streets, illuminating the few couples and families out for a late night walk in the scant snow dusting the ground.

“Here,” Chat says softly as he nudges the pink box over. “Merry Christmas Bugaboo.”

“Merry Christmas Chat,” she smiles as she passes him her bag. “Are we opening them now?”

“Why not?”

For such a light suggestion, the air between them feels a little heavier, a little more loaded as they open their gifts.

Ladybug gasps in delight as a soft pink scarf winds around her hands. She immediately wraps it around her neck, sighing blissfully as the plush wool curls against her skin. It’s handmade: her fingers find the sporadic gaps and occasional lump in the scarf, finds the time and love infused in each stitch. She looks up to thank him when her hands find a little surprise.

At one end of the scarf is a small pocket. Not quite big enough for a pair of gloves, not quite small enough for anything better off in her purse.

But a perfect size for a kwami.

Paranoia freezes her on the spot, holds her thanks captive in her mouth, so she is utterly silent as she simply watches him unwrap his gift.

Chat makes quick work of the tissue paper stuffed in the bag, and draws out a sky blue beanie. He doesn’t need his night vision to see that the beanie is made from the same yarn his scarf is made out of, the scarf gifted to him on his birthday, allegedly by his father.

He knows better now; the carefully stitched signature at the edge of the scarf that he found shortly after receiving it tells him several truths. It’s Marinette, who made him the scarf, who made him feel remembered and welcomed and loved. It’s Marinette, who’s always been there for him, always.

The beanie rests carefully in his clawed hands, and he turns it over and over until the light gilds the fine thread stitching a tiny signature along the inside edge.

He looks up at her, a question in his eyes, and sees it mirrored in hers.

Do you know?

A breathless, weightless heartbeat passes and neither one of them moves first.

“I saw you.”

The words rush out of out Ladybug’s mouth and drops between them like a gauntlet. At Chat’s startled, wide-eyed look, she swallows and commits.

“I saw you,” she whispers, and the emphasis leaves no room as to what she means.

Chat’s ears prick forwards and he scoots closer to her, a gentle smile curling on his face in contrast to the tense furrow of disbelief wrinkling Ladybug’s brow. He picks up her challenge and turns it into an invitation.

“I had hoped it was you,” he admits, as openly honest as he can be in this strange teetering space they find themselves in. “Of everyone I know, I had hoped Ladybug would be you. You’re confident and so capable and so easy to love. I really do think you’re dazzling, with and without your Ladybug powers.”

“I don’t know how I thought you could be anyone else,” Ladybug whispers. The tension in her shoulders begins to unwind at his honesty, at his softness. “You’re always so kind. Talking to the akuma victims after we defeat them. Offering your umbrella to someone who snubbed you the whole day. Your heart’s always been the same.”

“My heart’s always been yours, my lady,” Chat murmurs. He takes a breath, and falls first. “Princess. Marinette.”

“Kitty,” she says, softly. Logic has her hesitating, but it’s the look in Chat’s eyes that has her falling after him. “Adrien.”

The revelation stuns them both into silence, but as a shy smile grows on Chat’s face, a similar one mirrors across Ladybug. They break out into nervous giggles, smoothing out into a familiar, comfortable ease.

“So where do we go from here?” Chat asks.

“Let’s… not go anywhere,” Ladybug decides, slowly. “There’s no rush, right?”

“No rush, no pressure,” Chat agrees as he tugs his beanie over his head. His cat ears poke up into the soft fabric, making the fit a little odd, but he beams so delightedly that it looks perfect anyway. “We have all the time in the world.”

Relief settles onto Ladybug’s shoulders, but she shouldn’t be surprised. In anything, everything, she’s never had to handle anything truly by herself. She’s never been alone.

She shifts until she can rest her head on his shoulder, and sighs softly as he wraps an arm around her waist, his head coming to rest on top of hers. They breathe, and accept, and hold on to each other as peace comes to blanket warmly over them.

To see, to believe, to know, has nothing on love.

“Hey,” Ladybug murmurs, “I’m glad it’s you.”

Chat chuckles, and turns to press a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m glad it’s you, too.”

#mlfanfiction #miraculous ladybug #adrinette #ladynoir #mlsecretsanta 2k17 #convenientalias #fanfiction #matcha writes #sorry if this doesn't exactly fall under canon-divergent!#i wasn't exactly sure what that meant (still a little uncertain tbh haha) but i hope you enjoy this anyway!#thanks for reading and happy holidays! <3 #edit: i posted this in a rush last night and woke up and instantly went ''I KNEW I FORGOT SOMETHING''#thank you again ming!!! <3333

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damienthepious · 4 years

Text

hello loves. I knew this was going to be my last Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday offering until december, so I wanted to make sure it counted. My goals for this month? Finish that little one-two punch fic from earlier, publish a 100th fic, and...

well...

finish this. So. Here we go...

Scattered On My Shore (Chapter 19 - End)

[Ch 1] [Ch 2] [Ch 3] [Ch 4] [Ch 5] [Ch 6] [Ch 7] [Ch 8] [Ch 9] [Ch 10] [Ch 11] [Ch 12] [Ch 13] [Ch 14] [Ch 15] [Ch 16] [Ch 17] [Ch 18] [ao3]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla, Sir Damien/Rilla, Lord Arum & The Keep

Characters: Rilla, Lord Arum, Sir Damien, The Keep

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Pre-Relationship, (for the three of them. it’s established r/d), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Injury, Injury Recovery, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, (this will also be), Enemies to Lovers, (for damien and arum eventually lol), Mutual Pining, canon typical Arum ignoring feelings

Fic Summary: Strange things wash up out of the lake near Rilla’s hut, on occasion. But this monster… this monster is certainly the strangest.

Chapter Summary: Stay 'till you can breathe like normal people do / I've got room in my house for you

Chapter Notes: End of the road, huh? Never dreamed this fic would get this long, never dreamed it would mean this much to me. This is the longest piece of fiction I've ever written, and the longest work I've ever completed by a country mile. Thank you for hanging in there with me. Thank you for reading. Thank you for every kudos and comment and bookmark. Thank you. Chapter summary from the song Midland, by The Mountain Goats. Have I ever shared my playlist for this fic? See the end of the chapter notes, I'll stick a link there.

The first night on the road home is probably the most difficult.

It's-

It's the first time that Rilla has gone to bed without Arum in literal shouting distance in… in months.

She doesn't say anything about it. She doesn't know what to say about it. Arum is safe, and she and Damien are going home, and they're going to see him again. They are. It's stupid to get all emotional about the fact that they- they're just going to need to deal with a little separation, for a few weeks or so.

Damien douses the fire as Rilla steels herself, flattening her face, arranging their bedroll. Damien comes to lay down beside her, and when he slips his arms around her, she tries to sigh, and- her breath catches.

Damien does not flinch. He presses his lips just above her brow, and she can feel the sympathetic tension in his arms as they settle in the bedroll, curling against each other, as close as they can manage despite the heat.

"I know," he whispers, and Rilla grits her teeth. "I know, my love. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," she manages. "Nothing to be sorry about."

"Of course it will be a challenge, this journey," Damien murmurs into her hair. "Especially this night. He is still so close, speaking relatively. So close we can still see that subtle, mellow glow from his swamp on the horizon. So close, and yet… riding away from him aches in my heart like a betrayal. We must, of course. Our duties, our lives… and I miss the Citadel as well. Miss the safety and warmth of your hut, miss… ah," she feels his lip curl into a small smile against her temple. "Ah, but there is the other side of the dilemma, yes? It is so difficult to think of your home, now, without…"

Without Arum there, too.

Rilla sniffs lightly, readjusting her grip on Damien beneath the heavy cloth, and then she pokes him in the side, making him exhale a gust of laughter.

"Faster we fall asleep, faster we'll be on the road again," she mutters. "Faster we're home, faster we'll find out exactly what the hell that plant he gave us actually does."

"Ah- right. I suppose you're right, my love."

"Just-" she clocks her head off his cheek, pursing her lips when that makes him laugh again. "Shush. Sleep now, mope later."

He hums an agreement, soft and soothing, and settles beside her. "Goodnight, my flower. I love you."

Rilla manages the ghost of a smile, feeling one of Damien's hands gently caressing up and down her back. "I love you too. Now go to sleep already."

He nods, light laughter still on his lips, and then he kisses her cheek one more time before he closes his eyes, and Rilla sighs and closes her eyes as well.

She doesn't exactly take her own advice, though.

The discomfort, the worry, the knowledge that she can't just call out and make sure that Arum's still okay- her mind won't slow down enough for sleep to take her, not for what feels like a long time.

It's okay, though. It's okay.

Damien is here with her. His hand keeps up that steady rhythm, his palm soft as his fingers trace up and down her back, gentle as rain, and clearly he's not exactly drifting off either.

They don't say anything else. Rilla thinks they both know it won't do any good, won't make them feel any better. They don't speak, but they can still hold each other, silent and longing despite themselves, and eventually, eventually, they will sleep.

And tomorrow they'll be another step closer to home.

The temperature in the Keep is the same as it always has been, but Arum finds himself cold, more often than not. The remainder of his injuries itch . Amaryllis left him with a number of salves to apply, to reduce the scarring, to speed the already-sped healing process, but it is… strange, to apply it himself. It felt different, before, smoothed across the ragged scabs by her soft, attentive, confident fingers. His own scales are cool. His own fingers do not hold the same softness. It feels perfunctory, now. Awkward and stiff. And-

When she finished tending to him, rewrapping bandages or checking his temperature or applying salve, Amaryllis would always… touch him, then. A gentle tap, on his shoulder, on his elbow. A silent signal, accompanied with a smile, to let him know she was done, before she would stand straighter and turn to attend to other tasks.

Once, when he is done smoothing his fingers across his fading wounds, he reaches across his body and taps his own elbow, hesitant, and then he feels so utterly foolish, so strangely empty, that he-

He does nothing. He simply hurts, for a long moment, before he sighs and sets the salve aside.

The Keep tries, in its way, to soothe this pain as it is soothing his actual injuries, but it is… not precisely the same. He is grateful for the Keep's attempts at physicality, grateful for the touch of vines, grateful to sleep cocooned in soft, oversized petals, even if it makes him feel like a coddled hatchling again.

("You're healing," Amaryllis says, stern and gentle. "Being rough on yourself is only going to make it take even longer. Just- let me take care of you, you big stubborn idiot.")

He misses her. He misses them both. He knew he would, before they left, but-

He spent so, so long missing the Keep. He is quite tired of missing.

During the day, they ride.

They can travel much more quickly, without needing to worry over the wounds of an injured monster. It will make the return trip substantially faster, but-

Neither of them feel as if it is truly going faster.

It reminds Rilla of paradoxes. It reminds Damien of a chiasmus, the reversal with new perspectives. Neither of them discuss it, though they both urge the horse faster, both eye the horizon with skeptical intent, as if it is widening from them deliberately.

It is a relief, not to worry over Arum's safety while they ride, not to have to duck their heads and avoid the eyes of other travelers, not to need to lie. They don't need to slow down to check him over and make sure none of his injuries have started bleeding, they don't need to break from travel to find a safe place hidden far away from the road to rest in each night. It's another odd overlay- the hurt of leaving him behind shaded by the relief of knowing that he's safe, and home, and healing. Rilla can't stop herself from mentioning where she thinks he'll be in his recovery day by day, based on her estimates considering how the Keep seemed to be accelerating the healing process.

Last of the bandages off, today, I'd bet, she says, absent as they ride, her eyes distant, and Damien nudges the horse a little faster.

Replacement wrap for the crack in his horn, today, I think, she says, and Damien remembers the elegant curves that grace Arum's head, his throat aching.

He should be shifting to the next set of exercises for his wrist around now, she mumbles as they sit beside the fire. He'd better've remembered, she adds with a frown, and Damien pulls her even closer.

Rilla does not say that she misses him. Not in so many words. Damien follows her example, though he often finds himself glancing back the way they came, watching as the distance between the pair of them and Lord Arum grows, clutching his heart to stifle the bittersweet pang at his center.

In the small stolen bits of time when they are not riding, eating, or sleeping, Rilla likes to examine Arum's gift. She gently lifts the wrapped plant out from the saddlebag that has become its temporary home, settling it in her lap and squinting at it, observing the structure of the leaves, the colors, carefully easing her fingers into the dirt to determine the root structure.

She hasn't seen anything exactly like it before, she explains to Damien, and the intensity of her focus makes his heart thrum with fondness and familiarity. She narrows her eyes at the small stalk, the waxy purple and green leaves on the trio of branches at the top (Damien remembers Arum's glossy green scales, his violet eyes, and he aches again with longing), and she purses her lips. Native to the swamp, she decides. It must be. It doesn't… seem magical, so she isn't sure what Arum could have meant when he gave it to them, but- well, it's not like Rilla has any of her more delicate instruments here on the road with her. She can't exactly test it, or put some cells under a microscope. She just does her best to water it enough to keep the soil wrapped at its base at a consistent moisture level, and she turns it over in her mind while she's prevented by pesky lack of resources from turning it over in reality.

Neither of them mention their fondness for the plant, either. It reminds them both of Arum, of the Keep, of the swamp, and even while Rilla frowns at her lack of knowledge, that reminds her of Arum too. It makes her scowl, and smile, and she wishes he was here to smack him for leaving her with a mystery deliberately, the sly monster that he is. She wishes he was here for a number of other reasons, too, but that's beside the point.

Damien, for his part, cannot say if he has ever had so many new verses dancing in his head at once. The plant is such a beautiful little metonymy, such a hopeful tether, and though he cannot help but yearn, his yearning still feels safe, like a source.

The nights…

The nights remain difficult. The midpoint of their journey is especially so- as distant from Rilla's home as they are from Arum himself, the night particularly dark this deep in the wilderness, comforted by each others arms and little else besides.

They wake bleary, but relieved to have put another night behind them. The help each other to their feet, and they ride.

The representative is halfway between the border of the swamp and the Keep when Arum finally allows the denizens of his swamp to do as they wish, to descend upon this unfortunate creature and chase him back out the way he came.

Arum steps from the portal just at the edge of his territory, just as the faun stumbles the final few steps backwards over the loose remnants of the border wall Arum and the Keep have been slowly dismantling, and the monster falls halfway into mud with a yelp and his hooves in the air.

Arum lifts a hand, and his denizens abandon their pursuit, birds and amphibians and mammals retreating back into the swamp and returning to their lives, and Arum looks down at the creature. He folds his arms primly behind himself, glaring hard over his snout until the faun notices him in his scrabbling.

He yelps again, losing his grip on a vine beside him and planting his face in the mud, and Arum tilts his head.

"No, no," he says, his voice low and murmuring and magnanimous. "By all means, take your time."

The creature pants, staring up at him, and then he scrambles backwards and rolls up on his hooves, his frame hunched in obvious terror.

"… Well?" Arum drawls after the panting silence draws long. "I don't expect you would have come this far for nothing, hm?"

The faun blinks, blank, and then he shakes his head quickly and his furry fingers fumble at the satchel at his side. "I- yes I- I have been tasked to deliver a m-message and-"

Arum takes a step closer, and the creature's words fly from his tongue, the muscles in his legs bunching as if to bolt. "A message…" he repeats slowly. "How… interesting."

The faun opens his mouth again, trembling, but the words seem to catch in his mouth as Arum looms.

"You, little creature," Arum says, very slowly, "look as if you have seen a ghost. Why, may I ask, would that be the case?"

"I-" the monster bites his tongue, glances aside as if hoping for some sort of help, and then he looks to Arum again. "I was told- I was- you were supposed to be-"

"Dead?"

The faun flinches, and Arum does not let himself feel guilty, considering that this poor little fool is only adjacent to the situation. The point needs be made, and since Arum cannot safely make it to the Senate in person this will have to do. He does soften the glare in his eyes, though, coiling his tail as he waits for the creature to respond.

"I am- I am to seek the current ruler of- of-"

"I am Lord Arum, ruler of the Swamp of Titan's Blooms," Arum says, flat and mild. "Will that suffice for you, then?"

The faun stumbles back another step, his shoulders hitting a tree. "I-I-I represent the Senate a-and they have- have sent me to-"

"The last creature who spoke to me on behalf of your Senate tried to plant a blade in my spine." Arum tilts his head in the other direction, leaning down and close so he may hiss his next words eye-to-eye with this creature. "She missed. Do you believe that your aim will be more true?"

The faun swallows, visibly, his eyes wide and his hands trembling, though he seems too frightened, now, to try to move at all. "I… I am not- not an assassin, I am simply-"

"Delivering a message, as you said." Arum straightens, raising an eyebrow as he stares down his snout at the monster. "To the current ruler of the swamp." Arum grins, a conspicuous display of fangs. "I am he. What missive did the Senate intend for me, then?"

With shaking hands, the faun pulls a scroll from the satchel at his side, and holds it out.

Arum takes the parchment gently, though the faun still flinches, and he reads the letter with careful attention, his brows climbing. He snorts, eventually, folding the paper between his claws and giving the courier an amused sort of look. "The previous ruler of this swamp was killed in the effort to eradicate the human infection," he parrots with half a laugh, and then he shakes his head. "I suppose that is one way in which to spin the truth. Was killed. A delightfully overt lack of active perpetrator in that claim, hm?"

The faun opens his mouth as if to reply, but then he simply gives a sharp nod, fear still obvious in his stance, in his eye, and Arum sighs.

"Well. You may tell the Senate that if they wish to broker an alliance with the Lord of the Swamp, they may come to entreat him personally . As things stand, The Swamp of Titan's Blooms and its residents are no longer a part of the effort to eradicate humanity, nor do they acknowledge the leadership of the Senate. If the Senate wishes to plead its case they may do so here, where their deceit shall not find purchase. Otherwise," Arum growls low, "my lands may simply find other allies. We may still, regardless of whatever overtures the Senate decides to make."

"Y-you- you want me t-to- to tell them-" the faun's eyes widen to saucers, his heartbeat approaching hummingbird speeds, and Arum decides to take pity.

"Hm. Yes, well. I suppose that there is no reason to give them excuse to blame the messenger. Wait a moment, then. Keep, parchment and ink, if you would."

The Keep does as asked, and the faun's eyes flick to the vines that appear from apparent nowhere to hand him his tools. The monster's body is prey-still, leaving aside the trembling.

Arum writes out his letter rather quickly. He has been thinking this through for long enough that he does not need more than a single draft. He rolls the parchment and slides it back into the case he had pulled the Senate's own letter from, and then he holds it out.

"Perhaps," Arum says, his voice low, "you should endeavor to leave the room before they read that particular note, hm?"

After a long moment faun lifts his hands, nods, and gingerly tucks the letter back into his satchel.

Once he is safely back within his Keep, Arum laughs until tears prick at the corners of his eyes, laughs until his ribs hurt, and it doesn't even matter how the Senate responds. Arum cannot find the place within himself to care. He will find a way to survive, to thrive, regardless of whatever those miserable fools decide to do about him.

Arum laughs, the last lingering ghosts of his injuries twinging at him, and he feels foolish, and wild, and free.

The hut sits just as they left it.

The windows are dark, the herb garden has grown a little scruffy around the edges, the flowers across the trellises drift slightly in the wind, and Rilla squeezes her arms around Damien before she swings down from the saddle. She lifts Arum's plant from the saddlebag as Damien dismounts as well, and he gives her a soft, tired smile before he leads his horse off towards her tiny one-horse stable by the edge of the trees.

There's a small, childish, illogical part of Rilla that expects Arum to be there when she creaks open the door. It's stupid, obviously, which is why she doesn't let herself feel disappointed when she finds the hut exactly as empty as it should be. She sets the plant aside first, dumps the rest of her bags in a corner, and goes to light the hearth.

When Damien finishes settling his horse and comes inside with the rest of their bags, Rilla has nearly finished moving the pile of notes in the corner of the kitchen to a new spot on one of her bookshelves, and she grins a little manically at him as he sets his bags down.

"I think I've got a pot big enough to replant this thing. Help me bring it inside?"

He smiles, and they're both exhausted but this is too important to wait. For both of them.

She scoops up some turned earth from the garden to mix with the wrapped soil around the roots of Arum's plant (no more than half again, she remembers, and she's very very careful about that particular measurement), and she and Damien maneuver a large, oval shaped pot into the space Rilla has cleared, at the corner of her kitchen and out of sight of the windows.

It looks so strange and incongruous there, purple and green and wild, and the scent of fresh earth mingles with the reassuring scent of the flames in the hearth, another unfamiliar addition. Damien rests a hand on Rilla's arm, his other hand pressing over his heart, and when he sighs Rilla feels her heart stumble as well.

"Well," she says quietly. "He said it would bloom quickly, but obviously it's not going to bloom right now." She lifts a hand, gripping Damien's hand and squeezing. "C'mon. Not gonna waste time watching for the pot to boil. Let's unpack, and put something together for dinner, yeah?"

Damien squeezes her hand in return, gives the plant one last lingering look, and then turns away to help her put their home to rights again.

Arum feels the Keep buzz through with excitement, hears it pull the portal open at his back, and he barely manages to set his tools down rather than simply dropping them to clatter on his workbench before he spins to see-

"-miss him," Amaryllis says softly, and through the portal Arum sees her sat at their table in the warmth of the kitchen, sees Damien beside her, sees their foreheads ducked close together, Damien's arm wrapped around her shoulder, Amaryllis' hands cupping his face, their eyes gently closed. "Just- it's so quiet and-"

"I know," Damien says, and Arum's heart feels as if it fluoresces within his chest at the poet's voice, finally- finally. "I miss him as well. But- patience, love. Surely, surely we can be patient." Damien nudges their foreheads together, smiling wryly, and the arm around Amaryllis' shoulders tightens as the doctor sighs. "We will see him again. We will."

"Sooner than you think, perhaps," Arum manages, mildly smug that his voice only shakes a little, and the humans both gasp, whipping their faces towards him, all shock and wonder and- delight. His throat goes tight, then, but he still manages to speak. Barely. "Amaryllis," he murmurs, too much feeling in his voice. "Honeysuckle."

They spring to their feet, and Arum cannot help himself. He rushes forward as well.

They collide just in the threshold of the portal, Amaryllis' barreling into his chest and knocking the air from his lungs, Damien's arms flinging around him with a joyous laugh, and-

And perhaps it does not matter, that Arum feels tears at the corners of their eyes. Not if the humans' eyes are bright with tears as well.

"You," Amaryllis growls, her arms tight and fierce around him, and then she leans back enough to swipe a hand over her eyes and scowl before she starts poking at him. "Don't think you can waltz in all dramatic and get around me checking in on you- have you been applying-"

"Every single salve you left me with, like clockwork. Following the doctor's orders to the letter," Arum says, his voice an indulgent purr as Amaryllis' hands skate over his midsection, as she presses a palm over the scar on his back, examining him with critical, warm attention. He would attempt to hold up some degree of indignation about this, if he were not so undeniably, breathlessly happy to hear her complaints again at last. "As if I could possibly ignore you, as if I could not feel the threat of your ire from miles and miles distant-"

Damien breathes something like a sob, his forehead pressed to Arum's shoulder, and Arum make a small, sympathetic noise, curling two arms around him and holding him tighter.

"Oh, little songbird-"

"Missed- missed even your arguments, my lily, I-"

"I missed you as well," Arum admits in a hiss, nuzzling into Damien's hair. "Missed you both, so much more than I knew I could."

The Keep sings behind him, a melody of teasing exasperation and fondness and delight, and Amaryllis leans back to grin, lifting a hand to touch the curling vines of the portal.

"Keep," she says, and she sounds so equally fond that Arum cannot help the little stab of adoration. "So, has he been taking care of himself, then?"

The Keep warbles, affirming and warm, and Amaryllis turns her skeptical, playful gaze back towards Arum, her smile tilting in such a way that he thinks that perhaps she is content with his Keep's answer.

"So that's what the plant does, then? It lets you make a portal- nevermind the distance, weeks and weeks of travel away?"

"That is not it's function, precisely," Arum says. "It has no function, it is simply… a piece of life, from my swamp. If I merely wished to grant myself a doorway to you- the plant itself… it was not necessary. The soil would have sufficed, in truth, for a short time at least, but-"

"But?" Amaryllis asks, looking up at him with more joy on her face than Arum knows what to do with.

"But this seemed… better. More… decisive. A scattering of dirt may be swept aside. I care far more for the both of you than such a simple gesture. This-"

The plant in the wide oval pot by Amaryllis' fireplace is vibrant, glossy, a stab of floral familiarity, shocking and incongruous in this place that Arum grew to know so well.

"You shared your home with me," he says, slow and certain. "It seemed only fitting to give you a piece of mine." He inhales, and he smiles as he continues. "Its roots are taking hold here now, just as mine have, alongside your own."

Damien makes another choking noise, and then his arms tighten around Arum even further, and he presses his lips to Arum's neck. "Let us grow together," he breathes against Arum's scales in a shaking voice, and Arum knows that cadence in his voice, knows the ringing of a poem in Damien's voice. "Twined roots, fruits shared- bite by bite." Damien smiles, lifts his head, cups Arum's cheek in a hand as he continues, his voice so warm and musical that Arum can hardly focus on anything besides. "We tend to that which heals us," he murmurs, "each vine another trellis, braiding lines, lifting- towards the light-"

Arum is too stunned by the words, hit too closely by them, and Amaryllis recovers more quickly, reaching up to brush the tears away from Damien's cheeks, pressing a kiss there as if to replace them.

"I think that's my favorite of the new ones," she whispers. "Thank you."

"Honeysuckle," Arum manages, after another moment, and then he leans down to echo Amaryllis' kiss on the poet's other cheek. "How you craft such beauty… it is quite beyond me."

"With such inspiration before me," Damien says in a quavering voice, "the words practically weave themselves."

"Will that stay?" Amaryllis asks suddenly, gesturing towards the portal.

"I could dismiss it, summon it back when it is needed," he says.

"Cool," she says, and Arum barks a shocked laugh as she tugs at his hands, pulling himself and Damien back towards the table, maneuvering them to sit and folding herself against his side with a hand on his chest, her fingers tapping in a rhythm that it takes him a few moments to realize-

She's tapping along to the beat of his heart. Her fingers drum a little faster, after that.

Arum swallows roughly, and then he nudges the Keep with his mind, and as it closes the portal, leaving the little plant behind in the corner (she placed it precisely where he suggested- he will need to prod her later, discover where she fit that ream of notes and theories instead), Arum is grateful to still feel just the barest hint of the Keep's presence at the edges of his mind. The magic will settle here, yes, just as he did. If they want it to.

He exhales slowly, holding the both of them in silence for a long moment.

"I…" he murmurs eventually, uncertain. "I admit that I… worried, after you left, that perhaps this would be… a step too far. Too presumptuous, to grant myself a door directly into your home, but-"

"No-" Amaryllis shakes her head, lifting away enough to meet his eye. "Arum this is incredible- can you just summon a portal anywhere?"

"Not anywhere," he corrects, mild. "Only within the Swamp of Titan's Blooms. Which…"

Amaryllis looks to the plant, more vivid purple now than it was when he gave it to her.

"You… you literally gave us a piece of… you literally gave us a bloom from your swamp."

"Oh Arum," Damien keens, pressing another kiss to his throat. "Oh-"

"I… yes. It seemed the only thing to do," he says, ducking his head, flustered with his frill fluttering. "I… I knew…" he stops, furrows his brow, tries again. "The Keep is my home, my family. And I… I know, now, that I… I've grown to think of this place… I want this place to be my home as well. I want to be close by your sides. I want- you. I want to be a part of your lives."

"Good," Amaryllis says, but even in her nonchalance her voice is- trembling. Her hand presses hard over his heart, and the she presses her mouth to his in a lingering kiss. "Saints- Arum, we want you too."

"Want you always," Damien adds, tearful. "Oh, to be a home for you- to tend our garden together- oh Arum, oh lily we will hold you if you want us- we will keep you safe, warm-"

Damien interrupts himself, clearly shocking himself with a yawn, and Arum and Amaryllis both laugh at the look of mortification on his face.

"You are…" Arum presses his snout against Damien's temple when he can't find the words to voice what, precisely, Damien is. "Ridiculous," he settles on. "And clearly exhausted. The plant bloomed much more quickly than I was expecting, I think," he mutters, glaring in its direction without any heat. "I can still smell the road on the both of you. Have you gotten any rest whatsoever since you've been home?"

Amaryllis rolls her eyes while Damien purses his lips in obvious guilt, and Arum stifles another laugh.

"Well. It seems it is my turn to act responsibly for once. To bed with you. You certainly won't be rid of me so easily that you shall miss out on a single sleepless night of my presence. To bed," he repeats, "and I shall find mine as well."

Damien blinks, surprised again, and he and Amaryllis meet each other's eyes for a moment, something passing between them.

"What?" Arum grumbles. "What is it? I do not intend to let you wear yourselves out further for my sake. Certainly you would not allow the opposite, were the tables turned."

"You- you want to sleep in the exam room again?" Amaryllis asks, her tone careful, and Arum-

Arum did not realize that there was another option open to him. Would she like for him to- return to the Keep?

He presses his expression flat, unbothered, and then he says, "Where… else?"

Damien and Amaryllis lock eyes again, and this time he can read a note of fondness before Amaryllis turns her attention back to him.

"Well…" Amaryillis trails off. "If you want to sleep in there, you can. I haven't touched it since we got home, so it's still set up the same as when you left it, but-"

"But?"

Amaryllis ducks her head, then looks up at him through the fall of her hair, her smile soft and easy. "You… aren't my patient, Arum," she says, and he blinks. "Not anymore. If you want that to still be your bed here- I understand. You spent ages there, I get it if that's where you're comfortable. But… we love you. We love you, and there's room in our bed for you, too. If you want it."

"If…" Arum trails off, his mind still catching on the belated realization that he- he may exist here, uninjured. A guest, not a patient, as he once imagined. "You… want me to…"

"We love you, Arum," Damien repeats, his tone unspeakably tender. "We want you. Every inch, every moment we may share is a treasure, a gift."

"Did it bother you to have us share your bed?" Amaryllis asks, and Arum wrinkles his snout.

"Ridiculous-"

"Exactly. So…" she bites her lip, and then she leans up, and kisses Arum on the cheek, her lips soft and warm against his scales. "Come to bed with us?"

That feeling again, as if his heart is glowing and warm, as if the light should be pouring out in shafts between his ribs. He presses his mouth against her own, an invitation, a request, and when she hums another kiss against his scales the light within him pulses hot.

"Please," he whispers, and with these two creatures in his arms, with the Keep a gentle presence at the edge of his mind, Arum knows that this is where he belongs.

The monster is barely conscious before he starts trying to pull the both of them closer.

Rilla can hardly blame him. If she wasn't worried about waking him too early, she would have tugged him into her arms ages ago. He's too tired to do much more than give a mumbled breath, though, his greedy limbs stretching out to tug weakly at Rilla and Damien's sides. Damien hums himself awake at Arum's touch, and he smiles so, so wide before his eyes blink muzzily open, and then he looks down at the monster in his arms, and then up at Rilla with a watery smile. She grins right back, and then she obliges Arum's sleep-slack, greedy hands, and she folds herself against his chest, angling her chin up so she can press a kiss to his neck, and Damien embraces him from the other side, strong arms looped around Arum's chest, fingers tracing the ridges of his scales.

Arum murmurs something incomprehensible through his teeth, his eyelids fluttering, and as Rilla kisses him again he hisses a contented sigh, his violet eyes slitting open to meet her gaze in the gentle light of morning.

Rilla is so shockingly in love that her heartbeat stumbles, and Arum and Damien are safe within her arms.

(He’s so pleased, radiating such obvious contentment, and he is so entirely stunned to wake with them holding him. His cheek rests on her hand and he presses his face into it as he rouses, his scales already warm from their radiant heat and his breathing going sharper through his smile, and she feels a fierce sort of satisfaction at that, at the idea of soothing him awake like this again, and again, and again)

He growls lightly, nipping at her fingers and tugging the both of them closer against his chest, rumbling with a deep, inhuman purr.

She almost can't believe there was a time when she thought of him only as a monster.

In their arms, in their bed, in their home. He is their monster. Safe, and healed, and loved.

End notes: Thank you. I love you. Thank you. For further feelings, my playlist for this fic lives here.

also? this note has been sitting at the end of this document since it was only three lines of goofy plot ideas.

[……… profit????]

#hold breath hit post cry into your pillow day fam #elle's fanfic #the penumbra podcast #second citadel #rad bouquet #lizard kissin' tuesday #lord arum #sir damien #amaryllis of exile #the keep #scattered on my shore #it's done. it's done.#it's 90k and it's DONE

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