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moonlit-han · 4 years

Text

nxt 2 u: mornings with stray kids ↠ all members

genre: imagine/reaction, fluff, domestic bliss, established relationship au word count: 3k warnings: highly suggestive, 18+ themes, swearing request: yes but also no? a/n: femme-leaning reader~

✧ masterlist & tag list info in bio ✧

↠↞

bang chan

you roll over at the sound of chan mumbling in his sleep

he kinda wakes up

just a little blearily

and gives you this huge smile (♡‿♡)

bc you're actually there, the love of his life

and he still can't believe he's lucky enough to wake up beside you every day

so you snuggle closer and kiss his nose

then his eyelids

and finally his mouth so gently

channie just curls more tightly to you and pulls you to his chest

his hair is all tousled in the cutest way

like one part of it is sticking up like a lil cat ear (or wolf ear, since it's chan)

and you kinda just melt when you notice it

you can’t resist combing your fingers through his hair

when he finally wakes up

chan peppers your face with kisses,

carefully sliding on top of you

to then slowly, so slowly kiss you

his hands travel all over you, slipping under the old t-shirt of his you’re wearing

and soon you’re wriggling under him, wanting more (*/ω＼)

so chan works what seems like magic with his hands and/or mouth

until your toes are curl and you feel like you’re going to burst

but chan just grins and rolls off the bed

leaving you gasping and mildly grumpy ˚‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )‧º·˚

but you still get up to make blueberry pancakes

bc it’s saturday and that means blueberry pancakes ( ｀^´ )ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧

so you’re standing at the counter, combining the ingredients and waiting for the griddle to heat up

chan comes in after taking a shower

and is so overcome with tenderness at how sweet you look

just standing there in the kitchen,

still in his t-shirt and your underpants

so he wraps his arms around you from behind

and presses himself against you, teasing again a little

he nuzzles your neck, just begging for kisses

so soon, the stove is turned off and breakfast almost forgotten

as you stumble, giggling, back into the bedroom to cuddle and kiss more

and when you’re just about falling asleep

bc who needs to be awake on a saturday morning?! ┐(︶▽︶)┌

chan looks just as adorable and soft as he did earlier in the day

and you let him curl into your arms again

as you hold him and kiss the top of his head

adfghakldfhg he's just the sweetest floofkins (*´▽`*)

lee minho

i know i’ve compared minho to a cat before

but hear me out

minho in the mornings is mildly hilarious

bc even if he’s completely curled into a ball when he falls asleep

or spooning you sweetly

or whatever other fascinating position you fall asleep in together

he ends up stretched out

with at least one arm and one leg thrown over you

snoring softly

just. like. a. cat.

and you often find yourself unable to move

bc minho’s surprisingly heavy when he’s asleep

complete deadweight (╥ᆺ╥；)

but as soon as you brush the little stray hairs from his forehead

and kiss his shoulder

he stirs and groans a little, just settling deeper into the mattress

….which means more snugly onto you

heCk (￢_￢;)

so you wriggle around a little more

and finally manage to get your leg free from underneath of minho’s

as usual, you climb on top of minho and sit squarely on top of him

………

and start tickling him (≧◡≦)

THAT definitely wakes minho up

his lips poke out a little in a pout, all of their own accord

but he can’t really do anything about the fact that you’re tickling him

bc you’re sitting right on his hips, pinning him to the bed

the ~intimacy~ of the position, despite the fact that you’re tickling him, is not lost on either of you

and, being the little shit that he is, minho bucks his hips up once or twice

you just give him a mock glare and say “bad kitty”

before tickling him with renewed enthusiasm

(not to mention giving him little kisses on the neck and teasing ones on the ear)

once his ribs start to hurt from laughing,

minho just pulls you into a deep kiss

and you both relax

you love how sweet he is in the morning

nothing is hurried nor desperate

bc all minho wants to do is softly show you how much he loves you

you share little, soft touches that nonetheless feel like the most important things in the world

seo changbin

changbin’s arms around you is the best thing in the world

you’re barely awake and everything is blissful softness

if your feelings and the atmosphere could be described as a color,

it would be peach~

golden and warm, with just a hint of sweetness ;)

you snuggle into changbin’s chest, nestling your hips more closely with his

and you get a little kiss on the head

changbin is calm and cuddly in the mornings

and all he wants to do is hold you

sometimes you’ll end up with him closer than skin-to-skin

but it’s honestly more for comfort than anything else

how can he resist yet another way to be closer to you and cozy?

after awhile, you turn over slightly and kiss the underside of his chin

he giggle softly

……he’s a bit like totoro:

comfy

definitely a little magical

((yes, i’m still on my “changbin is a shapeshifting crow” agenda))

and just A Good BeanTM

(♡‿♡) (♡‿♡) (♡‿♡)

you scoot up onto the pillow a bit so you’re face-to-face

changbin just murmurs “hey baby” and gives you a lil kiss on the lips

his lips are so soft you feel like you’re going to melt

he makes sure to pull the blankets back over your shoulders so you aren’t cold

and he rubs your back in slow circles

tension you didn’t even know you were holding releases under his touch

and changbin’s hand drifts to your hip to hold you to him

you tangle your legs together

and he somehow pulls you closer

you’re really not sure how he manages it

but changbin can hold you and cuddle you so closely that you feel like you’re going to merge into one person

there’s nothing sexy about it or anything

it’s just that the warm, safe feeling you get is so amazing

neither of you are anywhere near fully awake

and drift in and out of sleep, sometimes shifting to a more comfortable position

when you finally wake, changbin is still sleeping soundly

you take the opportunity to stare at him

his hair is mussed (a bit wildly)

and he has the first little bits of stubble coming down from his sideburns

a little smile adorns his mouth, as if he’s dreaming about something lovely

((you. he’s dreaming about you :3 ))

you slip your arm up to stroke changbin’s face

your thumb passes over the rounded plane of his cheekbone

and, even in sleep, he leans into your touch

after a few more moments, you lightly kiss him awake

hwang hyunjin

you’d expect hyunjin to be a complete mess in the mornings

but he’s not

he’s actually organized

oh and since his hair can get aaaaaall over the place

he always makes sure to braid it out of the way at night

so in the mornings, little wisps of hair stick out from their appointed places

one of your morning habits is to delicately tuck those wisps of hair back into place

on the weekends, hyunjin is

so! excited!! to!!! cuddle!!!! you!!!!! ☆*:.｡.o(≧▽≦)o.｡.:*☆

and loves kinda pouncing on you as soon as your eyes open

kisses you all over

and rolls the two of you around on the bed

and he’s just holding your hips the entire time, rubbing small circles into them

as he kisses you so damn sweetly

alkdfhgskdjfh

and if you playfully nip at his bottom lip?

he’ll just do it right back

your rolling around has turned into more too many times for you to count

and honestly, it’s kinda the best

so sweet and slow

like you’re the most precious jewel in the world

he t a k e s h i s s w e e t t i m e (￣～￣ )

and sometimes all you can do is hold on to the sheets for dear life

unless you’re supposed to meet your parents at 11 a.m.

in which case, you’d better be ready

gotta go fast, as they say~ (⊙‿⊙✿)

but even then, mornings with hyunjin are still sweeter than caramel

his normally plump lips are even more so when he’s just woken up

and the way he squints his eyes against the sun?

that’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen

sometimes he’s just calm in the mornings

and you lay your head on his chest

and listen to his heartbeat

as hyunjin strokes your hair and gives you a little neck massage

it’s so peaceful and you wouldn’t trade snuggling with hyunjin for the world

han jisung

does not want to get out of bed

nope

no fucking thank you ＼＼\٩(๑`^´๑)۶//／／

there really should be a sign on his door or bed like

WARNING: Do Not Try to Remove Squirrel from Natural Habitat!!!!!

secondary warning: squirrel may bite if forcibly removed from natural habitat

he will cling to you better than an octopus

alkjdhgadlkfjghadfkgjl

jisung nuzzles into your neck like there’s no tomorrow

and the loose strands of hair falling around his face tickle your skin a little

instead of kissing your neck over and over,

jisung just kinda pouts and keeps his lips lightly against your skin

it’s really sweet hhhhhh (o´▽`o)

if he’s ~ in the mood ~ be prepared for WhiningTM

and for your pajamas to disappear faster than chan’s ears turn red when he’s embarrassed

is it gonna be fast? slow? who knows! (・_・ )

let the fates decide and just go with it

bc either way, you’re going to need to change the sheets and take a shower

you may also find yourself turned into a burrito one morning

bc jisung loves all the blankets

and thinks you’re cute as hell all rolled up in them

…..like a burrito ｡･ﾟ(ﾟ⊃ω⊂ﾟ)ﾟ･｡

and he will immediately lay down on top of you, the burrito, and begin to munch

and by munch i mean kiss you so thoroughly you’ll barely remember your name

he only gets like that if he’s been awake for at least an hour

hhhhhhhh

so when he first opens his eyes, rubbing his face a little and yawning

his first inclination is to make sure you’re still there

and then he just snuggles closer, kinda tucking his head under your chin or on your shoulder

as you also wake up, you make sure to kiss his forehead and tell him you love him

it’s a little ritual almost~

you’d both miss it if you didn’t do that

and you just shift a bit so you can hold jisung even tighter,

threading your fingers through his hair

and kissing the tips of his ears, as if they have little points

you lay there together, just enjoying the warmth of not one, not two, not three, but four comfy blankets and each other

until jisung’s a bit more awake

his hair is so messy when he finally sits up

and his lips are a little dry and swollen from sleep

when he finally speaks, his voice is super husky and deeper than usual

and, frankly, you think it’s the hottest thing ever

when you’re together, he usually doesn’t wear a shirt to sleep, either

so in the morning you’re just blessed with the sight of a shirtless jisung

whose voice is at least half an octave lower and slightly gravelly

it’s just;;;

alkfhgalkdjfhgldkjfsjfhks

invariably, you end up pulling him right back down next to you and booping his nose

then kissing him

a lot

and, sometimes, you don’t get out of bed until noon

because why would you when it’s safe inside the blankets? (⌒▽⌒)♡

lee felix

wraps arms and legs (anything else he can manage but idk what) around you

bc damn it you’re there with him and you’re gonna be close!!!!

the cuddliest in the morning

but then again….will gladly wriggle down to the foot of the bed

and make you a scream

felix: softly, y/n!! don’t wake the neighbors!

y/n: how am i… supposed to- Fuck! stay quiet when you- damn it, ’lix… keep doing that!!?

*giggles from felix* (≧◡≦)

but most importantly

he literally just wants to hold you

and enjoys making you laugh by rumbling his voice in his chest

after all, it’s considerably easier to do first thing in the morning

and is quite proud of the fact that his voice is deeper in the mornings

yawns kinda loudly????

but does that slow eye and nose scrunch he does

to clear the sleep from his eyes a little

it’s the cutest thing ever

also learned the “make my significant other into a burrito” trick from jisung (-_-;)

so now you’re a burrito practically every single morning

there’s actually something comforting about being swaddled

and also like jisung

(((dear god they must share notes akhfskdhj)))

he flops down on top of you to cuddle the living daylights out of you

felix will give you all the gentle kisses in the world

definitely sings that frank sinatra song “fly me to the moon” to wake you up

before kissing each of your fingers, your palm, your wrist, and all the way up your arm before finally

finally

reaching your lips

and he just murmurs sweet nothings to you

as he kisses you every way and everywhere he knows how

felix likes to lay beside with you, hands laced together

and talk about what you’ll do together that day

bc there’s so much he wants to do with you (*¯ ³¯*)♡

and show you and cook for you

and he’s just so full of love

that he ends up bounding out of bed

and pulling you with him, even if you’re both still half-asleep

just so you can start your day together

although, you usually have to stop him from running out the door still in his pajamas

with the cutest bedhead ever

a small part of you wants to see what would happen if he went out like that

but then again…

you also want to be the only one who sees felix in such an utterly free state of being

kim seungmin

seungmin is extremely soft in the mornings

he really likes to just hold you to his chest with his cheek pressed against the top of your head

kisses your temple from time to time

and just holds you on top of him, hand pressed to the small of your back

he likes to tell you about the previous day when you’re just laying there together

and sometimes doesn’t mind if you fall back asleep while he’s talking

he actually finds it rather cute

seungmin likes to spoil you in the mornings

whatever that means to you

either food

(he’ll make you an amazing breakfast

like absolutely everything you could ever want

and probably more)

or ~ love ~

(…maybe, if you make a good case for it

does not take these things lightly (￣ヘ￣) )

or giving you a massage

whatever

you do like massages tho

and seungmin’s particularly good at them

he makes sure to get lotion or body oil

and that his hands are warm

bc no one likes a massage from someone with cold hands

then just methodically massages your back

he secretly likes the little noises you make when the tension releases from your muscles (✿´ ꒳ ` )

sometimes massages turn into making love

but usually not~

mornings are for slow relaxation

no raising of heartbeats or anything else

seungmin also likes to plan out days while still cuddling in bed

and grudgingly allows you to tease him

about his bedhead

or his bleary-eyed looks at you before he’s fully awake ╥﹏╥

or how he just wouldn’t move no matter what you did during the night

it was really quite amazing

..................

seungmin tends to mumble a lot in the mornings

it’s one of the few times he’ll snuggle into you

instead of holding you

he’ll just mumble incoherently

and you’ll be just falling asleep again

when he starts talking perfectly clearly about how much he loves you

you listen, trying to memorize exactly what he says

bc there’s absolutely nothing to distract him or filter the words

and he’s just…. talking

seungmin’s voice first thing in the morning is, of course, a bit lower from sleep

and you find it unbearably attractive

especially when he’s telling you he loves you (*/ω＼)｡ｏ♡

yang jeongin

kinda just slips his arm around your shoulder

kisses the top of your head

and murmurs “good morning sweetie”

before getting up quickly to brush his teeth

bc dear gods he just wants to feel clean;;;;

but!!

once he’s back, it’s time for sooooo many cuddles ( ◡‿◡ ♡)

you hadn’t necessarily fully enjoyed the experience of breakfast in bed

until you met jeongin

then, breakfast in bed on the weekends became normal!

and sometimes you’d even watch a show together

and cuddle and cuddle and cuddle and cuddle

when he started working out more, you were really excited

bc it meant more squish for you to cuddle on

ajdfgsdkjfhgaklj

he’s very playful in the mornings

and, like with minho, there ends up being lots of tickling

although, with jeongin, he’s doing the tickling

he’s in love with your giggle(*♡∀♡)(*♡∀♡)

and takes every opportunity to make you laugh just so he can hear it

jeongin is the poutiest in the mornings

like if you thought jisung can pout?

then…

well, no. jisung still wins the pouting contest

but jeongin comes in a close second!!!

but not even pouting to get something or get his way

just cutely pouting for the sake of looking cute (◕‿◕✿)

alkdhgsdfkjghal

and he just squishes you so tightly to his chest

you sometimes have to remind him that

in a perfect world

you’d like to breathe

one morning when you were being squeezed

so affectionately you didn’t even know what to do

you decided to kiss his collarbones

and it was all over from there

jeongin m e l t s if you kiss his collarbones

and if you kiss along them,

everything in his world is even better

but then if you decide to get inventive

and maybe take a lil soft nibble or lick?

it’s all over (⌒_⌒;)

he just gets so overwhelmed with love

and tenderness hhhhh

and sighs like a dramatic Victorian lady

the moment you start

therefore:

you are so not leaving that bed for at least another two hours

jeongin likes to make sure you’re nice and comfy

at all times

when in bed bc, just like his friends have taught him:

he will treat you like an angel.｡ｏ♡

#inkidz #stayhavennet #0325net #ultkpop #stray kids fanfic #stray kids #bang chan #lee minho #seo changbin #hwang hyunjin #han jisung #lee felix #kim seungmin #yang jeongin #skz #skz fanfic #.moonlight

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jinmukangwrites · 3 years

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Whumptober 2021 - October 3 - "Who did this to you?"

Fandoms: Linked Universe

Ao3

Warnings: major injury, attempted murder, blood, near-death experiences

---

Trouble comes with a smiling face; not that Wild knows that yet. All he sees is an eager young woman with kind eyes and a humble dress, offering to show him where he can get some wine to cook with tonight.

He and the rest of the heroes have been on the road for quite a while now, without a single town in sight. Nothing but various barns to cross their path. This is the first actual town they’ve seen in miles, even though it’s not a very big one. Yet, there is a small inn for weary travelers, and a marketplace near the front entrance of the town where farmers can sell their goods and towns-folk and gossip. The whole group of them are rather low on funds, but the market seemed like the perfect excuse to relax. Spend some money that they just barely have. Pretend to be normal people for just a few hours.

Just until sunset.

It was Wild, Twilight, Warriors, and Hyrule out in the market while the others were making deals with the innkeepers to get cheaper rooms and more beds. Wild wasn’t really sure what the others were wanting to find out in the market today, but Wild was on the hunt for quality ingredients for quality food that he couldn’t make while on the road. He planned on making a meal tonight fit enough for Zelda herself, and he needed wine to do it. Not to drink, of course not, but to soak into fine slices of meat to add extra flavoring. Nothing strong enough to get a man tipsy—and if he ends up with extra wine, he’ll put it in a flask and gift it to the Old Man. Hylia knows he deserves it.

But he couldn’t find anything even remotely related to wine in these small markets. Some stalls sell alcoholic jars of milk, but Wild honestly has never even heard of milk that could be alcoholic, let alone ever cooked with it. By the time the sun was starting to caress the horizon, frustration was bubbling in his belly because of this and all he could think about were those berries he saw on a tree a few days ago that looked perfect for making some of his own wine out of.

Twilight and Warriors were looking at a jewel-smith's stall, admiring the finely crafted trinkets and murmuring to themselves about the ones that would match her eyes, or impress that gentleman at the tavern, and Wild soon lost interest in both the stall and his love-sick companions. He had stood several feet off, leaning against a brick wall, eyeing the closest stalls to him and hoping for even a small sight of anything close to wine set up for sale.

And then he saw her. Trouble, despite him not knowing it. He didn’t even suspect it. Perhaps he’s gotten too used to the threats of other worlds, that he forgot the threats of his own.

She walked up to him, a swish to her brown dress that seemed to almost have a pink tint. Her hair was brown, done up in messy braids and a bun above her head. Wild assumed she was the daughter of a farmer who was selling crops from their farm, so he didn’t assess her too critically. Before he knew it, she was stopped a few feet from him, swaying her dress side to side between her thin fingers.

“Is there something you’re looking for, travelers?” she asked, her voice sweet like sugared honey. Beside him, Hyrule blushed a bit at the ears.

Wild wasn’t much in a good mood at the moment, but he decided that asking for help might be his only option at this point. “I’m looking for wine, or any kind of beverage like it made out of berries?”

The girl hummed, pressing her finger to her chin in thought. “The most popular beverage ‘round here is milk…” she said, and Wild’s shoulders slumped. But then she continued. “Though, I know a liquor shop further in town where they sell all kinds of drinks. I’ll show you the way, but it closes really soon.”

Hope surged in Wild’s chest. Perhaps he would be able to make a fancy meal tonight after all! Feeling in lighter spirits than he had all night, he told Hyrule to inform Twilight and Warriors that he would be going to the liquor shop. Wild barely noticed the slight hesitation on Hyrule’s face before he turned and did as he was asked. Wild should have noticed it. He should have thought more about how eager and smooth talking the girl was, should have been more in tune with his companion’s concerns, but he followed her out of the market anyway.

And now he’s here, laying on the ground in a pool of his own blood thanks to a hole in his stomach. The “liquor store” was nothing more than an abandoned shop several blocks away from the market, but he only found that out when he walked inside and saw the hastily put together lanterns to give the illusion of life, each one placed among dust and cobwebs. Before he could even turn back and question what was going on, the girl was sliding her arm around his side and heartlessly impaling him with a familiarly curved, sickle-like blade.

Her laugh was also familiar as his knees gave out and he crumpled to the floor, wheezing. Though not familiar in a way that he knew her name; he knew her kind.

“Wh-” he gasps, using one hand to clutch at the floor blanketed in bloody dust, and the other to press onto the wound in his stomach like he’s trying to keep everything in. “What-”

“You’re probably wondering why I’m here, hero,” the girl… Yiga chuckles, stepping over his crumpled body to squat by his head. “To tell the truth, I’m not sure either. I fell into a portal… and found myself in a whole new world. And I saw you, and your friends. I can’t tell you how long I’ve been waiting for the perfect moment to take you down. This is for Master Kohga-” Wild’s too weak to fight her off as she reaches for his body, searching his pockets and taking the only healing potions that he had. “-and for Calamity Ganon. I don’t care what happens to me now, as long as you die painfully and slowly, right here.”

Then, she stands up, takes his potions, and leaves, shutting the door behind her as she laughs into the night.

Stupid. Wild is so stupid. How did he not guess something like this would happen? Did he truly let his guard down so badly that he forgot to always be on the lookout for Yiga soldiers? Has he become so comfortable traveling between worlds that didn’t have rogue Sheikah that it didn’t matter for him to worry about them as much?

He’s going to bleed out and die here, all because he wanted some wine to cook with in a town that only sold fucking milk and he couldn’t bother to make sure the person he was following was actually someone with good intentions. He can already feel his vision swirling, and his entire body feels pathetically weak and cold. The pain is unbearable, bringing tears to his eyes.

He coughs up blood, and does his best to prepare himself for a failure’s death, as he’s too weak to even call for help; let alone try and save himself.

Stupid…

His vision swirls white, and then fades black, and he knows nothing more.

-o-o-o-o-

“Something’s wrong,” Twilight says, several minutes after Hyrule told him and Warriors that Wild had gone off with some farmer girl to find a liquor store.

“Something is wrong,” Twilight repeats when they ask a local villager for directions to the nearest liquor store, and they reply the only alcohol this town sells is the milk in the market.

Hyrule is quick to point out the direction he remembers seeing Wild and the girl go off in, and then they thankfully split up to cover more ground. The second there’s no one to see, Twilight changes into his wolf form, sniffing the air desperately for his kid. Wild’s scent is one that he will always remember, it’s stored and locked within his brain, right next to Mipha, Zelda, and all the kids at Ordon.

He finds Wild’s trail after a nerve wracking few moments, and then he’s dashing through dimly lit streets like his life depends on it.

The feeling of something being horribly wrong only gets stronger when he finds Wild’s scent leading inside a run down looking building with dim, flickering lanterns in the windows. Then, the reek of blood hits his nostrils at full force. He shifts back into his human form and bursts into the front door without a single care on what’s on the other side.

The stench of blood is stronger here, even for his human nose. But that doesn’t matter. What matters is that his eyes drop to the floor along with what feels like a stone in his stomach. Wild is at his feet, curled up like a child, red pooling around his terribly pale body.

“No-” Twilight drops down to his knees, already pulling out his spare red potion and gathering Wild into his arms. Wild makes a strangled groan through his throat, but his eyes are squeezed closed.

He’s alive though. The thought that he’s still alive is the only thing that gives Twilight enough strength to pull out the cork of his jar and shove the opening to Wild’s lips.

Wild chokes as the liquid enters his mouth, but Twilight doesn’t let up. It’s preferable to drink red potions, but when it comes to drastic situations like this, just getting it in the injured person's body is enough to save their lives. Wild coughs through the liquid and writhes in Twilight's arms, and it’s all Twilight can do to keep the bottle there and shakily whisper every comforting word that he knows. Eventually, color returns to Wild’s cheeks, and his eyes blink open blearily as his choking turns into instinctive swallows.

When the contents of the bottle is gone, Twilight lets the glass jar fall to the floor as he now uses his newly freed hand to check Wild’s wound.

It’s still nasty, and deep, but no longer life threatening. Another potion or some stitches and Wild will be as good as new. For the first time in what feels like years, Twilight allows himself to breath out a sigh of intense relief.

“Twi…?” Wild asks, voice incredibly small.

Twilight holds him just a little tighter, willing his heart to calm down. He’s almost… he’s come so close to almost losing-

“Who did this to you?” Twilight demands with a bite to his tone that he doesn’t mean to direct at Wild.

Wild doesn’t react to it though. He just closes his eyes and shakes his head. “It… doesn’t matter…” he replies in a whisper. Twilight feels anger swell in his stomach and he almost argues back, but Wild talks more despite how much it must still hurt. “Later,” he says. “’M hurt, wanna sleep. Deal with… it later.”

Twilight takes a deep breath, counts to five, then lets it out. He doesn’t feel any less upset. However, he keeps his voice level, deciding that arguing with Wild here will just upset the boy more than help him.

“Okay,” he agrees reluctantly. “I’m going to carry you, okay? I’m out of potions, but Wars or Hyrule should be nearby with some of their own. Then we can go get a well deserved sleep.”

Wild simply nods and relaxes into Twilight’s arms, breathing a sigh and closing his eyes. Twilight bites his lip, then resolves himself to hold one of his dearest friends close to his chest as he stands up. There’s blood everywhere, staining his hands, his tunic, his boots, his pants. But he got here in time. Wild will be okay.

That’s all that matters now. Once Wild has all his color back and his stomach no longer has a hole in it… then Twilight can make sure whoever did this regrets being born.

“I got you, kid,” he says, “I got you.”

#linked universe #wild linked universe #twilight linked universe #whumptober2021 #no.3 #who did this to you?#blood tw #injury tw #violence tw #fanfiction #jin writes

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imaginesntingz · 3 years

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Imagine Gaara comforting you when the depression and anxiety hit

Trigger Warnings: Depression, Anxiety, Swearing(?)

A/N: Hey y’all! This is my first post on this blog. I hope you all enjoy it <3 Please don’t copy any of my works. It’s all originally written and I put a lot of time and effort into my pieces. Please ask me before reposting.

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You were curled up in bed staring into nothingness. The past week or two you’ve tried to keep it at bay, but you felt the ever lingering depression creeping its way in. Nothing in particular happened. It was just always there. There wasn’t a time you could remember it not being there. Sometimes it was muffled like background noise and other times the volume was turned up so loud it was the only thing you could hear. It was your constant companion following you like a shadow. And to top it all off, anxiety was right behind it. You thought about overthinking and overthought about thinking. Racing thoughts kept you up sometimes until the sun shone through the blinds.

Everyone wondered why you were so quiet at times, but they couldn’t hear the ass beating you were getting from your own mind that made it almost impossible to be in the present moment. Nor could you find the energy, the language, nor a fuck to give to even begin to explain the war going on inside you. Temari invited you out to what you thought would be a small kickback yesterday that ended up being a full blown party. Gaara, who was supposed to go with you, was inevitably called in for village business. You ended up socially tapped after just a few hours in. Although Temari was with you and you met up with some chill friends . . Although you were surrounded by people, you still felt completely alone. Although you heard the words coming out of their mouths, you couldn’t keep up with what they were saying. Although you were physically there, you weren’t there. You wanted so badly to just enjoy yourself like everyone else, but it was what it was. After pleading with your sister in law, you finally went home only to find that Gaara was still in the office. One final push that sent you

Spiraling

down

And there you were exhausted but painfully awake in the darkness of your shared room. You didn’t know how long you were lying there. There was no time, only the bottomless ocean that swallowed anything and everything you tried to drop into it. No amount of journaling, affirmations, meditation, prayer, movement, walking, entertainment, pet cuddling, food, water, medication, vitamins, herbs, epsom salt baths, incense, face masks or any of the methods you’ve tried felt tangible to you in that moment. What was the point when you didn’t even have the will to move? How could you think of going on a mission next week when you couldn’t guarantee you’d attempt to leave your room tomorrow? How were you going to take care of your hair if you couldn’t even braid, twist or put it up for the night? How could you call yourself a caring friend when you’re thinking about canceling the dinner you’ve already rescheduled twice?

“My love? Why are you still awake?”

Your husband’s soothing voice jolted you out of your inner dialogue. You hadn’t even heard him come in, too lost in the wall in front of you.

“ . . . Can’t sleep.”

You heard the sound of the door closing and hushed shuffling as he moved around the room. A few moments later, you felt his weight dip the mattress beside you. A warm arm wrapped around your middle, gently pulling you to his chest. His hand moved to intertwine with yours as he spooned you from behind.

“How did it go with Temari? Again I’m sorry I wasn’t able to go with you. I hope you had a good time.”

“It’s fine. It was fine.” you replied flatly.

Gaara caressed the back of your thumb with his own as silence filled the space between you. His lips met the skin of your shoulder and you felt your body gradually relax into his embrace. He was never one to push you when you weren’t ready to talk and always made you feel grounded back to earth with his very presence. Even amidst his many responsibilities as Kazekage, he always made sure to check in on you and provide whatever you may want or need. He would do anything for you if it meant you would feel loved, safe, balanced and happy. Gaara, sweet Gaara, was the love of your lifetimes and you, his. He knew you better than he knew himself and picked up on every detail. Your likes and dislikes. How you took your tea in the morning. Your sensitivities. Every expression. Your body language. The tone in your voice. The slightest change in your eyes. So it was no surprise that he picked up on the shift in your mood right away.

“(y/n) . . . Sweetheart, It’s alright if you don’t want to talk about it right now, but please know that I am here. I love you more than words can express. I am here to listen and support you in any way that I can. I always will be. You know that, right?”

And with that, you couldn’t stop the tears from flowing. Your body trembled as he maneuvered you to face him. He wrapped his arms firmly around you, cocooning you into the safety of his hold. You buried your face into his chest and the calming scent of earth and cinnamon enveloped your senses. Your tears and running nose wetted the shirt he wore, but he didn’t care. Soft kisses were pressed to the crown of your head as his fingers trailed up and down the length of your spine, occasionally drawing soothing circles. You turned your head to listen to the steady rhythm of his heart pressed against you before finally catching your breath to speak.

“I-I’m just so tired of fighting just to be okay all the time. I’ve been taking steps to take care of my mental health, but it still feels like it isn’t enough. It’s like one day I’m fine and a couple days later it feels like I’m back at square one. I just want to exist sometimes. No expectations. I don’t want to think. I don’t want to feel. I don’t want to do anything. I don’t want to be anything. I just want to be.”

He squeezed you gently at your words, pausing thoughtfully before responding.

“You once told me that your dream is to become the peace within and despite the chaos inside of you. The chaos all around us. You said that you wish to heal yourself and pass on healing to others. I know it is easy to lose sight of it when you’re in the midst of what feels like a never ending battle, but I wanted to remind you of it because I never want you to lose hope.”

Your eyes widened in shock and turned glassy as he continued on.

“You have brought me out of the depths of the greatest despair and have played a huge role in supporting me in healing from my past. Your love is medicine to my heart. There were times when I was lost that you reminded me to never lose sight of my dream. To never lose sight of what truly matters. Even in the most difficult times, you have always found hope where others have felt hopeless. That is one of the many reasons I love you. I am your husband, so let me be your strength when you are tired and feel you can’t go on because you are my strength, dear wife. We can get through this together. Remember that healing is a lifelong journey, not a destination. So take it one day at a time. Hour by hour or minute by minute if that’s what it takes. You’re so hard on yourself sometimes, but look how far you’ve come to be here. Right now. How much you’ve grown. I want you to know that I am so proud of you, sweetheart. I hope that you can come to be proud of your accomplishments too.”

A fresh wave of tears came over you, but for a completely different reason this time. You practically tackled your poor mans onto his back and your lips met in an intense yet equally loving kiss. His hands worshipped the expanse of your hips and time fell away. Vibrations hummed throughout your body as you pulled back to look into those seafoam green eyes. His red hair and pale complexion highlighted by the light of the moon peeking through the window. He was ethereal.

“I love you, Gaara. So much. I am so happy that you exist. Honestly when you speak so openly and directly like that I feel like my heart is gonna burst through my chest . . . fuckkkk. In a good way though! But seriously, thank you for being you. I never thought I’d be able to say this to someone without fear, but . . when I am with you, I know that I am home. You are my home, love. ”

His eyes softened before a huge grin spread across his now blushing features. Gaara didn’t smile often, but when he did it was a sight to behold. It was like feeling the warmth of a sunrise for the first time. An all encompassing glow.

He sat up and cupped both of your cheeks in his hands, tears now mirroring your own. “I couldn’t have put it better myself. Do you know how beautiful you are? Truly? Your beauty radiates from the inside out. Honestly, what have I done to deserve you?”

“Sir, have you taken a good look at yourself lately? That’s my line. Fight me. Right now.” you deadpanned playfully.

A look of genuine concern crossed over his face. His hands settled on your waist and his posture noticeably drooped.

“(y/n), I would never fight you.”

“ . . . Gaara, I was just joking. I know you wouldn’t.”

“Sarcasm?”

“Mhm.”

“ . . . Right. I should have known. I’ll do better next time.” he sighed dejectedly.

Your body shook with laughter at your man’s adorably serious face. He’s always trying his best. Only Gaara could go from holding space through your tears of sadness, to making you cry from happiness, to having you doubled over with laughter within a matter of moments just by being authentically himself.

“I love you so fucking much, my sweet Gaara.”

“And I, you. My beautiful (y/n).”

You both slept soundly that night in a tangle of limbs, not knowing where one ended or the other began. Two, who together, are one.

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written-beyond-the-grave · 3 years

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Elija Mikaelsaon Dating a Black S/O Headcanons

Did anyone ask? No, did I deliver? Yes.

- Alright, so Elijah and the Mikaelson’s have been alive for a while. Never got a specific date, but we have vikings. And as Elijah has been alive for a minute, he’s had flings, situationships, lovers, and at some point out knight in shinning armor was probably a fuck boy… don’t @ me.

- What I’m trying to say is man probably did it all, Asian, Latinx, Caucasian and African American and maybe even African and Caribbean… Maybe even fucked around with his sexuality for a second because he got it like that and the writers were too pussy to put this shit on

- Tbh probably the originals tried all the genders and non-genders, change my mind. But elijah strikes me as a free for all who loves something refreshing that’ll take him out of Klaus’s bullshit for a minute

- But here’s were this shit gets spicey… Elijah… with a black s/o….. Just hear me out poc who been waiting for someone to give them good fucking food on poc x tvd/ the originals, I got y’all… unless college comes back.

- OK so, I feel like if you’re rocking with Elijah he’d dress you up and ice you out because he can. Nothing under $5,000 for his s/o… We talking furs, diamond, real leather, snake skin, hell even a whole ass snake if you wanna be on your Bruce Wayne shit一 better yet, your T’challa shit with a whole ass panther (black panther ain’t real soooo y’all can get a black puma and call that bitch a panther lmfaoooooo)

- He’s asking you to a dinner date and then you say you’re ready…. Wearing pretty little things…. Missguided… honey. (Nah ain’t shit wrong wit those brands, they be having bangers tbh and sales like a bitch) Let him upgrade youuuuuuu. You only wear Givenchy, Yves Saint Laurent, Burberry, Balmain, etc. Try walking out there looking a damn mess and distasteful… just try it sis

- Speaking of which… my mans got you with hair too! Fuck you mean ?1?!

- He had a black s/o in the past, even though her hair had loose curls… we won’t discredit her. He has some knowledge on how curl hair works, and if he’s lacking, he as a whole library and might fuck around and ask Bonnie in exchange for some witchy ingrdients (im cdfuuuuuu)

- Name, braids, twists, locs, finger waves. Wanna shave bald??? He’s for it, let him get you his barber. Fuck it, he’ll get you Marcel’s barber. Lined up and all that shit, throw in a fade too

- And coming in for wash day, he’s sitting behind you days in advance helping you take down your hair after a month or two. Grey sweatpants, scissors in hand, spray bottle to the side with Netflix as background music…. Fuck with it. You’re all tired after doing like 8 and he tells you to take it easy, with vamp speed and the deterixty of those fingers…. *chefs kiss*

- He sets up a lil wash day station for you, or if he’s on the clock just books a whole salon for you alone already paid for. But if he’s doing the work, best believe he spent the coinssss COINS for the organic shampoo shit you have the refrigerator and the deep conditioner, AND THE FUCKING LEAVE IN. He’s keeping your shit moisturized in the winter. His big hands and gentle fingers helping detangle your hair, you in a fluffy robe, enjoying being loved on….

- Y’all didn't even get me started on him doing twists… or plaits, or the bantu knots, the concentration on his face

- IDK why I gotta say this… nails done too, he loves the feel of your nails gliding on his scalp and down on his back when he’s giving you those slow strokes.

- This doesn’t have to do with anything, but the fact that the originals were set in New Orleans which is mostly BLACK BLACK BLACK BLAAACCCKKKKK and I saw like 3 black people in that bitch, ong….. Julie Pleck, you basic bitch

- Anyways, I feel like Elijah in a trench coat coming to pick you up from work would be such a vibe and a mood. Like, he knows when you get off and you might just take public transportation or something to have some sort of independence. But he shows up after work when you’re leaving with some friends from work…. Nigga shows up in a dark blue cadillac, trenchcoat with the collar up, leather gloves… and a fresh cut

- Who tf let him out the house??

- And ik you’re friends trifling too asking who is he, a damn fine tall glass of milké

- And he’s just leaning against the door waiting for you and once he sees you, he waits for you expectedly and kisses your forehead in greeting and gets the door for you

- Speaking of driving, Elijah be too damn serious, and that’s were you come in.

- I need him and the Miakelson’s at a cookout doing line dancing, the electric slide, cupid shuffle (and give Rebekak some goddamn friends shit, she everyone stay chasing love and shit but have 0 friends and boundaries, they drag family though the mud)

- Like I need him out his suit and in some dark jeans, a solid white v-neck, rolex on his wrist, and white air forces

- Sitting there, kinda out of place until he settles in. Like I deadass see him asking where the tables are at the cookout and like… you break it to him he’s gonna have to do the table legs for that shit

- And the plastic cutlery! LMFAOOOOO his soul is slightly quaking

- And its finna be a whole ass test when an uncle comes up and grabs him by the shoulder in a greeting and tries to fill in the seat for spades or even worse…. Dominoes…. That’s it. It’s over. Elijah been alive for too long and knows every play in the book and can bluff his ass off

- But if we talking dominoes… we gon have the boondocks animation version of a nigga moments cuz y’all fights will be started, money will be lost…. To Elijah. In the end he gives it back bc he’s a good sport and bc humiliation is a greater victory

- Lmfaoooo and the quiet drive back, you’re exhausted but the music station is playing throwbacks and Usher’s climax comes on and bitch… the high notes, the lamp posts that give you both a glimpse of each other’s side profiles. And for once Elijah is relaxed and coming down from his amusement. No one is trying to kill him or his siblings, and good food albeit greasy in his stomach.

- Dare he say he felt human for a moment

- You staring out the window and softly singing along enjoying what the day was, Elijah loving the ambiance created. Mmmmmm such a mood

- THAT BEING SAID imagine you and Elijah on a long drive and “I Mean It” by G- Eazy comes on and you start singing along bc data is expensive over long ass drives and being stuck in traffic. And Elijah is giving you a bemused look, you in all your glorious wonder and you just make the lyrics more dramatic ashit trying to be a heartbreaker and all that. But, the true heart breaker is Elijah

- He comes in on the verse and gives you all eye contact, lips completely sync but your can kinda hear his voice keep the tempo…. Bitch this makes me feel some type of way… and as he’s going on he grabs your face and tilts your chin up OOOOUUUU gets up all close and personal and finishes the lyrics which is perfectly timed with when the light turns green and turns back like nothing just happened. There yo are aping like a fish bc tbh if anyone could rap it’d probably be Kol, he’s like the emnemin mixed with busta rhymes type, but tone it down….

- Bitch imma go fantasize rapping Elijah, y’all been slept

- And for those asking yes, I do write for black readers, mor specifically female but I can try male

#elijah mikaelson #elijah mikealson x reader #black reader #black!reader #poc!reader #tvd imagine #tvd x reader

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clanoffetts · 3 years

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Like Real People Do, Part 3

series summary: Kyra Esson, a pilot trying to forget her past, takes Jango Fett up on an offer. It's supposed to be her last hurrah before she settles down, but she can't seem to leave the bounty hunter, no matter how hard they both try.

word count: 2k

warnings: 18+, NSFW. Fluff; Eventual Smut maybe; Slow Burn; uh oh jango catches feelings; Yearning; Dirty Thoughts; ; severe misunderstanding of Slave I’s layout; (M) masturbation

The ship’s hum lulled Kyra to sleep that night and gently brought her out of it the next morning. When she sat up in the cot, her neck was stiff and her back desperately needed to be popped. How the actual fuck did this man sleep here every night? Maybe that’s why he was eager to sleep in the pilot’s seat.

“You awake?” He calls up the ladder.

“Barely,” Kyra calls back, standing and stretching her limbs.

Jango hadn’t been awake long, it seemed, as his voice was gruff and his curly hair was a mess atop his head. “You want one?” He asks as Kyra makes her way down into the main hole. He’s holding up some kind of bread in his hand, and it’s half eaten.

“What is it?”

“Bread.”

Kyra nods. “Sure.”

Jango grabs a pack of something from a crate and a bowl that he fills with water. He rips the packet open with his teeth, and Kyra sucks in a breath, the action hitting her straight in her stomach. She exhales shakily, watching Jango dump the contents of the packet into the bowl.

“Like magic,” he says, watching the powder soak the water until it forms a roll of bread, just like his own. “There you go.”

Kyra bites into it, instantly regretting the size of her bite. “It tastes like nothing.”

“Rather it tastes like nothing than taste like bantha shit,” Jango shrugs.

The rest of the day is boring. Jango isn’t much of a talker, Kyra realizes, and their banter is an exception not a rule for the Mandalorian. Jango had sat silently across the room in his armor, sans helmet, tinkering with something on his workbench.

Jango grunts every time he tightens a bolt, putting all his force into it, making the bolt almost impossible to loosen. And his grunts pry into Kyra’s mind, through the novel she’s trying to read on her ‘pad.

Jango watches her in his peripheral, shifting in her seat while her eyes keep steady on the words in front of her. Her hair isn’t up today, he notices, instead it’s in long black waves down her back, almost reaching the swell of her-

Stop , he brings his attention back to the weapon he’s working on. The damned thing doesn’t even need to be fixed, but he’s never met someone that makes it hard to talk. Usually, it’s a choice for Jango to withdraw, but this woman has him unable . It’s not that she matches him in his banter, at least not in a way he can understand, but it’s her nonchalance. He’s a kriffing Mandalorian, and she didn’t care. It’s the Pamarthe in her, he thinks. That’s what it is. It has to be.

Dinner goes the same. Jango’s teeth rip open two packets at once, and Kyra gulps. Her roll comes out wonky, slightly soggy.

“Here,” Jango says, holding out his. “Have mine, that one looks awful.”

“I’m sure it’s fine-“

“Kyra,” Jango says her name for the first time. “Take mine, it’s the least I can do.”

“You’re letting me stay on your ship and use your bed, the least I can do is eat soggy bread,” she replies, but he still sits across from her, hand out. “Fine.” Their hands brush slightly with the exchange, and both finish their dinner fairly quickly.

The evening is boring, as hyperspace often is, but Jango doesn’t help. He answers questions with short answers, and he doesn’t ask any in return. Finally, Kyra excuses herself.

“Goodnight, Jango,” she says, her voice coasting over his name like no one else’s.

All he can muster is a curt nod.

When Jango steps into the ‘fresher a few hours later, he stares at himself in the small mirror. He examines his skin, where the scars cut deep and where a little bit of bacta could’ve prevented scarring, if he hadn’t been stubborn.

Jango grabs his shirt by the collar, pulling it over his head. His chest is littered with small scratches, too, and his arms, where there aren’t tattoos. The middle of his chest has a bacta bandage on it, right between his pectorals. He’d applied it that morning, hoping it would ease the ache left behind there. He was wrong.

Jango pulls it off quickly, depositing it in a wastebasket. The scar is still pronounced, he knew it would be, he’s never taken care of wounds very well.

The water of the shower is hot, numbing the pain on Jango’s sternum. The water runs down his body, over the curve of his muscles and through the curls of his hair.

Jango’s mind wanders to the woman sleeping in his bunk. She seems to only have the one scar across her left brow, and her porcelain skin was covered in scratches from the sand, but no scars of Jango’s caliber.

He thinks back to her long hair, it looked so soft , reaching the soft curve of her ass while she read. Stop , he scolds himself. But it’s too late, his cock is hardening under the stream of water.

He pushes any thought of Kyra out of his head, You fucking creep, he thinks, and instead pulls disembodied images of women and men from various holoporn videos he’s seen over his years. Jango’s rough hand grasps his cock, tugging fast and hard, trying to get this over with.

Jango hopes his stray groans and swears are covered by the stream of water from the showerhead. “Kriffing hells,” he groans as he comes, the final image that flashes in his head is Kyra, sitting reading in the hold of his ship with that hair of hers down.

“Fucking creep,” Jango tells himself as he washes his release from his hand.

When he steps out of the shower, wrapping his towel around his waist he steps back in front of the mirror. Jango wipes the fog from the mirror, and stares at himself again. He then reaches to a cabinet, pulling another bacta patch and unwrapping it. He lays it across his sternum, pushing gently to get it to stick. Kriffing things aren’t working, he thinks. They said they’ll work and I’ll be able to hunt-

There’s a thud from the front of the ship, and Jango rushes from the ‘fresher. “Are you ok?” He calls up to the bunk.

“Yeah, yeah sorry,” Kyra replies. “Dropped my datapad, sorry.”

She’s in her pajamas, her hair is in a loose braid from the nape of her neck. She’s reaching to the floor from the bunk, grabbing the ‘pad from the floor. “Oh,” Jango says. “Ok.”

Kyra watches him watching her, her eyes wander to the dark hair at his navel, the towel dangerously low. And then she notices the bacta patch. “Are you ok?”

“Hmm?”

“The bacta patch, are you ok?”

He lays a hand over his chest. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good.” Kyra stares at his large hand, covering his toned chest, and tries her hardest to mask it as concern for the bacta patch.

“Good,” she says. “I’m glad.”

It’s awkward for a moment, the two just looking at each other. “Well,” Jango says, turning back. “Good night, then.”

“Good night, Jango.”

Why’d she have to say my kriffing name again, he thinks as he makes his way back to the ‘fresher. Many people don’t say his first name, and if they do, it’s because they’re pleading. Otherwise, he’s just “Fett”. But not to her .

Jango steps into sweatpants and then pulls a matching black t-shirt over his head. He climbs into the cockpit, hissing at the pain in his chest. The chair isn’t comfortable, not to sleep in, and he almost wishes he had taken Kyra up on her offer to sleep in the pilot’s seat instead. Almost.

The next day is much of the same, ration packets distributed and made, small talk avoided by Jango.

“Are you sure you’re alright? If you’re injured you should be sleeping in your own bed,” Kyra says, taking their bowls from breakfast to wash in the kitchenette.

Jango nods. “I’m fine, Kyra, I promise.” Jango is taken by surprise by saying her name, and he can’t see it, but she is too. Her name feels foreign on his tongue, but he likes it. Almost like the first time he tasted a foreign whiskey, but this was better.

“Well then, Jango,” Kyra says, her voice breathier than normal, hoping Jango can’t pick up on it. And in his own frenzy, he doesn’t. “If you change your mind just tell me. No hard feelings.”

Jango says nothing, instead he just watches her. “Why do you do lekku braids everyday?”

“Lekku braids?” “Isn’t that what those are called?” He gestures to the two braids on her head, starting at her forehead and weaving all the way down to the nape of her neck and then some. “Or do you call them something different on Pamarthe?”

“I think I’ve heard them called that before,” she replies, shocked that Jango has entered a talkative mood again. “I’ve never really called them anything. They make my long hair easier to manage, that’s why I like them.”

“Why don’t you just cut it, then?” Jango knew many women who cut their hair short, making life under a helmet easier. It was part of many Mandalorians’ show of discipline.

Kyra shrugs. “Because I don’t want to.”

“Sometimes we have to do many things we don’t want to.”

Kyra looks at him. Was he trying to be profound? “Yes,” she agrees. “But I don’t have to. Are you trying to say I’d look better with short hair?”

Jango shakes his head. Kriffing hells, you’ve fumbled it. “No, no, not at all,” he says. “I- I quite like your hair, really. I was just curious, that's all.”

“Mm,” Kyra hums, drying the breakfast bowls trying to make sense of the man sitting behind her.

Jango watches her, her braids swishing with every movement. He tries his hardest to keep his gaze from her thighs in her leggings, and when he can’t he stands, clearing his throat. “I’ll be in the cockpit.”

“Are you sure? We could always hang out a little, you know, and watch a holo. It won’t kill you.”

With you, it might, he thinks. So he pushes himself away. A talent of his, really. “Quite sure.”

He’s back with the short sentences, the curt nods, and the quick turns. Kyra watches him climb up to the cockpit, her brows furrowed. Odd man, she thinks as she makes her way back to a chair, setting up her ‘pad to watch a show.

The whole day is just that, Kyra in the hold watching a holodrama and Jango in the cockpit listening to the holodrama. He wants to go down there, he wants to see the story between the Twi’leki man and the Pantoran woman unfold, their fighting families keeping them apart for the sake of their businesses- Jango feels quite stupid for being so invested, but he is. He’s put his helmet on to listen better, so he can hear every dramatic gasp leave every character’s mouth.

“We’ll land tomorrow at…” he checks a screen, “2100 hours, Pamarthe time.”

“We won’t be landing at 2100 hours,” Kyra says. “I’m not flying into Pamarthe in the dark. Not on a foreign ship.”

“Why?”

“You should do more research,” she tells him. “Pamarthens are very particular on who can land. There are stories of ancient warriors that will come back to attack. And, well, Pamarthe is always ready for their return. It’ll be easier in the daylight.”

“That’s stupid,” Jango says.

Kyra’s face contorts with offense. “Amaxine warriors were very real on Pamarthe. It’s no more stupid than Mandalore exiling Mandalorian-”

“Do not speak about Mandalore,” Jango snaps, his finger pointing at her as she sits in the co-pilot’s seat. “Do not speak about something you do not know.” He stands, retreating down from the cockpit and into the hold.

“Then don’t be a hypocrite and do the same, Fett.”

#kyra esson #jango fett x oc #jango fett fanfiction #jango fett smut

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mihidecet · 4 years

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Sbi D&D AU: Tommy (3)

AKA: Tibi’s MCYT WritingTober, day 12.

I’m back with more d&d! I jumped on today’s “Fanmade AU” prompt from @the-only-gamer-gost ‘s list IMMEDIATELY, because after all most of you started following me due to that ahah

I hope you’ll enjoy it! <3 Maybe leave a comment if you do? I always love to hear your feedback, and maybe ideas on what you’d like to see? In any case, thank you for reading!

That is how, about four hours later, Tommy finds himself sitting on his bed, legs crossed and fingers tangling in the threads he's trying to weave together.

It's a mix of light blues, pinks and reds that Techno called "a weird choice, but whatever floats your boat", which had sent his patron into hysterical laughter. Tommy had hoped he'd been sarcastic, as he'd colour-picked from Techno's own outfit.

But one could never be too sure with the Blade: he was a cryptic man, with a cryptic past and an unwavering unwillingness to share anything about what he thought about, anytime, about anything.

Which was fine. Tommy liked guessing, and he considered himself smart enough to be able to start picking up clues. Most of the time.

He was no Phil, who was apparently able to understand everyone, everywhere, at any time. Even animals, too, which had been a concerning discovery. Not the fact that he could understand and be understood by animals, that was perfectly fine once considering he had horns due to making a literal deal with a demon, and Techno was half pig. It was just that Tommy had found out Phil could speak with animals by finding the elf in deep conversation with a passing squirrel - who had apparently been extremely rude and stolen some of the nuts Phil had been gathering. The disagreement had been resolved by splitting the nuts evenly, as the squirrel had had a family to feed.

The thing was, Tommy had had a chance to talk about the infamous friendship bracelets with the other two as they'd walked back to the tavern, and by now he knew that all three of them owned one. But what Phil hadn't neglected to comment on was that - to his knowledge - Techno didn't own one. Which made sense, on a certain level. He was the one making them, and he seemed to own the strings to make them. Phil had been meaning to buy one to gift him, but he's said he knew it wouldn't have been the same. And he couldn't ask Techno where he could find the materials needed and keep it as a surprise. Not to mention that he didn't know how to replicate the intricate weaves and knots of the bracelets; he could try, but he knew he wouldn't be able to easily succeed.

Which left Tommy with the perfect chance.

The plan was simple.

Techno had offered to help him rebuild his bracelet, but he’d never explicitly said if Tommy was going to weave his own or if Techno was going to make him a second one.

So, once they were all fed and satisfyingly comfortable, Techno would take out his threads and start working on it. Then, with his usual enthusiasm, Tommy would ask if he could also help. Maybe by learning how to weave together bracelets himself.

Techno would humm, but probably give in after a bit of insistence. He never really enjoyed verbal conflict, and Tommy was counting on that.

Then everything would be set! Tommy would choose the colours for Techno’s bracelet, make it with his help, and everything would be good!

As of right now, most of the steps in his plan have gone off without a hitch.

The only thing not working perfectly well is his own skills at weaving - maybe once he used to have an artisan’s hands, but now they’re clumsy, less sensible. The effects of not being used to his newly found powers at first had been to constantly - and accidentally - set his own hands on fire. With permanent scars up to his elbows and a handful of points where the burns charred away his sensibility, he’s not much one for delicate and precise work.

But Tommy is nothing if not determination personified, so he grabs each strand with too shaky hands and does his damned best.

Techno is sitting across from him, also on the bed, mirroring his posture and slowly explaining each braiding step. His voice is lower than usual, a side effect of being extremely tired, but he’s not snappish or strict. He’s unexpectedly calm and mellow: Tommy wonders if it’s the exhaustion or just how Techno behaves when they’re not in life-or-death related situations.

All things considered, once he understands what he has to do, the slow, repetitive movement becomes extremely soothing. He can see Techno doing this to relax in the few moments of downtime their lives allow them.

They're not alone in the room.

Phil is meditating on one of the other two beds in the room. He’d been drained after the fight, looking after them all and taking care of the few civilians that got injured due to the attack.

After they’d gotten back into the room, he’d disappeared for a moment in order to go bathe, then returned, given them all a final look and then promptly passed out on the bed with a smile on his face.

Wilbur had made sure to fix the covers around him.

The tiefling was currently also sleeping, but he was stationed on the same bed Techno and Tommy were sitting on. It made for a bit of a cramped situation, but Techno had stated that he wasn’t going to move anymore if it wasn’t to go to sleep, and Wilbur had said that he always took the bed closer to the window.

So there he was: curled up between them, one leg on Tommy’s lap and his back pressed against Techno’s side.

If Tommy had been any less observant and in the mood for a discussion, he would have mentioned how Techno could have easily moved half a meter away in order to be extremely more comfortable, or how Wilbur usually just chose any random available bed.

But he was tired and he had other objectives - he was already planning on bothering Techno, getting him annoyed would only be counter-productive. And Tommy was also quite observant: he still remembered how Techno had jumped into a blow aimed at Wil’s throat just a couple of hours earlier, saving his life and efficiently dispatching of the brute trying to kill him.

Everyone was still feeling a bit messed up after all those close calls, there was no need to state the obvious. Especially when saying nothing meant Tommy could feel the warmth of Will’s still very much alive body against him.

It doesn’t take much time; they’re bracelets after all, you can only make them so long.

Tommy stares at the one in his hands, and is suddenly filled with so many contrasting feelings.

Joy is the first, of course. He’s been able to achieve so much since he left his hometown, and everything he’s achieved has been due to his own determination and intelligence. He might not be the smartest person ever - he can name at least one, even though that doesn’t necessarily mean he will - but even he can’t deny how well he’s been able to play the cards he’s been dealt.

Then there’s shock, at the realisation that he has actually become friends with the legend he used to hear people talk about in hushed whispers while he was still living in his hometown.

Melancholy is another: a part of him longs for what - who - he left behind.

Then he feels like he needs to get better at making bracelets, and maybe sleep for a couple of days. His back is hurting and the scabs on his arms are already itching up a storm and it is "bored patron with too much free time" levels of annoying.

As Tommy stomps down the protests of his patron inside his own head, he hears Techno hum lightly to catch his attention.

"You're done? I finished yours. Unless you prefer to keep the one you made yourself." Techno comments, offering the bracelet he's just completed. Wilbur shifts slightly as he's lightly jostled when Techno reaches towards Tommy, but he goes right back to sleeping.

Tommy gives him an honest smile and a heartfelt "thank you", then wastes no time in grabbing his new friendship bracelet: a stunning thing in black, red and orange that looks as fierce as he is powerful.

"And here, this is yours." Tommy says, after a moment of unabashedly admiring the stunning handiwork he now owned. It wasn't like his old one, but it still felt the same - the meaning of it was intact, and the shape and colours were similar. One could even say that now it meant more: after all, they'd made it together, in what nobody could deny had been a true bonding moment.

Tommy's hand, holding the bracelet he made, stretches out towards Techno.

There's a distinct pause as Techno's hands hovers in the air and his eyes widen in what looks like pure shock - Tommy has *never* seen anything like it, Technoblade is never surprised. And yet.

"Uh?"

Tommy decides it is getting a bit too warm in the room, as doubts and worries start filling his mind: what if he doesn't like it, it looks so bad compared to the ones Techno made, after all it's his first try, he should have asked for more string to practice and made him a really good one. The young man pushes the bracelet into Techno's hand hastily - the sooner this is over with, the better.

"We figured you didn't make one for yourself, so I made you one. Consider it as from all of us. Now you're *our* friend, Techno, and there's nothing you can do about it!" He concludes with a proud grin, hoping it masks his internal worry. Thankfully, he's still fearless enough to keep eye contact, because that allows him to see Techno's face simply melt as his fingers wrap around the bracelet once, then open up to allow him to study it closely - Tommy would call it reverently, but then his patron would laugh again.

"... Thank you." Techno murmurs a few moments later, and with that all of Tommy's fears and doubts are smashed like fragile glass, scattering into the nothingness. A bright smile opens up on his face and he's unable to stop himself from beaming as he lightly punches his friend's shoulder.

"No problem, big guy. ... Now, where do I put this so that nobody accidentally breaks it again?" He asks, tone light and humorous in hope of exiting quickly the sweet moment they'd entered, which was turning into awkwards at the speed of light.

"Well, if you have like a necklace, you could tie it there and keep it hidden under all your shirts." Techno drawls out, sounding more and more tired as he goes on.

Tommy decides it's as good a time as any to finally hit the hay, so he stands up and stretches his back - reveling in the satisfying pops that follow.

"That is a smart idea, big guy. Have you been sitting on it for a while?" Tommy jokes, starting to fix his bed.

"Well, it was actually Phil that did it first. He tied it to the same necklace he keeps his engagement ring on."

Tommy chuckles, Phil always knows best- his arm freezes in the air, one hand still holding his pack because he'd been meaning to look for something he could use as a necklace but now his brain is just static.

He turns back towards Techno, who is staring back with a mix of sheepishness and confusion.

"What- what do you mean engagement?" Tommy asks in a feeble voice and Techno just rubs the back of his neck shrugging.

"He's supposed to get married when he goes back, apparently."

Tommy starts gesticulating wildly, pointing first at Phil, then at Techno, then at the world around them as he loudly mumbles his way into about twenty different beginnings of sentences before his shoulders drop and he shuts his mouth.

A beat passes.

And to be honest, Tommy is too tired to be thinking about this, but-

"What do you mean go back? Is he gonna leave us?" He asks, and Techno looks extremely uncomfortable on the other side of the room. Instead of an answer coming from him, the voice that speaks first comes from behind Tommy.

"I'm not gonna leave you, Tommy. If anything, I plan on bringing you all for the ceremony." Phil mumbles, scratching his stubble as he sits up on the bed. Damned elves and their need for just a handful of hours of sleep, now Tommy has to feel awkward for nothing.

Phil stands up with a groan, then stretches; taking a couple of steps forward, he nods at Techno as he claps a hand on Tommy's shoulder.

"Help me push the beds together?"

"Only if Wilbur gets up, I'm not moving the bed with him on it." Techno deadpans, moving to the bed Phil's closest to in order to help him lift it - they're not getting thrown out of the tavern for being too loud at three in the morning.

A deep chuckle comes from the ball that is Wilbur's not-so-sleeping body, and his performance is betrayed even more by how his tail starts swishing left and right.

"But what if I asked please?" Wilbur says, one eye peeking from his crossed arms.

"Then you're staying there with that bed." Techno replies instantly and a moment later the bed between him and Phil is lifted.

Wilbur huff, rolls out of bed, waltzes towards Tommy - messes up his hair just because he's in a good mood - and quips back:

"You're no fun, Technoblade."

A couple of minutes later, once they've all found their places on the bed, Tommy is resting with his head against Phil's chest and his tail wrapped around Techno's leg - a mirror to Wilbur's which is tied around the arm slung over his side.

It's comforting, and warm, and Phil's carding his hand through his hair.

Techno's new friendship bracelet is an unfamiliar feeling pressed against his chest, but he knows he'll get used to it.

Stifling a yawn, Tommy whispers:

"Congrats on your marriage, big guy."

Just so that Phil's wheeze is the last thing he hears before he falls asleep.

#mcyt writingtober #sbi dnd au #dnd au #sbi au #technoblade #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #philza #ph1lza

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cakesunflower · 4 years

Text

Just My Kind [Teacher!Calum AU] Part 5

Previous Parts: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

“Seriously, Ms. Kline—you two look so cute!”

Odessa let out a light laugh despite the heat pooling in her cheeks as one of her students, Marci, who was dressed as Padmé Amidala, grinned before pulling away from where she stood between Odessa and Calum after they posed with her for a picture. It was Halloween, and almost every student and teacher was dressed up, and during gym or lunch or the few minutes between classes, people were posing for pictures with one another—and many, mostly the girls, had approached Odessa and Calum so they could take a picture with the school’s Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy. They were almost as popular as the four gym teachers who dressed up as KISS.

She and Calum had decided on recreating costumes from the scene of when Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth dance at Mr. Bingley’s ball, Odessa’s white dress and dark hair done in an updo remarkably resembling Kiera Knightley’s costume from the film. Odessa had felt a bit strange, walking into the school in a long white dress that was so soft against her skin, hair done up in braids and curls, but when she noted the costumes of her fellow teachers and students—seriously, the gym teachers had gone out with their outfits and makeup—Odessa had felt a bit more relieved.

Especially when she saw Calum.

Just like her, his costume starkly resembled Mr. Darcy’s suit from the very scene they were dressed up as. The dark coat with the white ruffled shirt underneath was a simple outfit, yet there was nothing simple about Calum. Although his blonde hair didn’t match Mr. Darcy’s traditionally dark locks—Calum had lamented about the lack of his natural hair color—he still looked classy and dangerously prince-like—and Odessa knew she wasn’t the only one who thought so. She was pretty sure she’d seen some of the young girls quite literally swoon at the sight of him, which was more amusing than disturbing.

Just a few hours after school had let out, Odessa arrived to Luke and Sierra’s place, noting the cars that were already in the driveway and parked along the sidewalk. As she unbuckled her seatbelt, Calum grinned from the driver’s seat. “Ready to head in, Ms. Bennet?”

Odessa scoffed, an amused smile upturning her lips. Calum had taken to calling her that throughout the school day, referring to himself as Mr. Darcy. Apparently he took Halloween pretty seriously, into it as much as the students were, and it was refreshing to be around his excitement. As the two of them approached the door, Odessa mused, “So what’s the prize for the costume contest?”

Yes, Luke and Sierra were holding a costume contest, which Odessa had found out a few days ago when Luke had reminded her to use that as motivation to get a good costume. When Odessa had asked him what the prize was, he had promptly told her it was a secret—but Odessa knew him well enough to know that was his way of stalling because at the time, he hadn’t thought of a prize yet.

“Pretty sure it’s one of those Visa gift cards,” Calum snorted before shrugging. “But it’s for a couple of hundred bucks and I wouldn’t say no to that,” he added with a boyish grin and quick raise of his eyebrows, and Odessa chuckled in agreement, her breath fogging in front of her in the cold night air.

The house, as expected, was filled with people dressed up obscurely, the spirit of Halloween alive as some remix of the Monster Mash played. Odessa was fairly certain it was the same one Principal Howell played that morning prior to the first bell ringing. People all around her were dressed as fictional characters, as their own versions of different occupations, video game characters, and she was pretty sure she’d caught a glimpse of two people dressed in the classic salt and pepper costume. Halloween related decorations were up as well, decals of spiders and bats on the wall, Jack-O-Lanterns placed around the house, and even a damn smoke machine in certain places that had people’s feet disappearing below the ankles.

They decided to find their friends first, all of them gathered in the back den around a beer pong table, and Odessa suppressed a laugh at the sudden sensation of feeling as though she was back in college. Not that she’d ever played much beer pong; it wasn’t her sort of thing.

Sierra was the first one to catch sight of them approaching, eyes lighting up with a wide grin as she gasped, her voice traveling over the hum of the music and everyone else as she exclaimed, “Oh, my God—your costumes look even better than I thought!”

Her words caught everyone’s attention before they all looked over to Odessa and Calum approaching them, earning enthusiastic greetings as Michael raised an eyebrow at them. “Who’re you two supposed to be?”

Odessa could ask him the same thing, but she vaguely remembered Calum telling her that he and Crystal were dressing up as some anime characters. “We’re Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth from Pride and Prejudice, you uncultured shit,” Calum responded with a scoff, bumping his fist with Ashton’s as he came to stand next to him. “Our students loved it,” he added, a proud grin on his face as his gaze met Odessa’s. She couldn’t fight back the smile that quirked her lips in response.

“Yeah, I’ll bet,” Paige said with a smile that, just by giving her one glance, Odessa knew was strained.

Paige’s eyes met Odessa’s then, and she instantly recognized the irritation that darkened her hazel eyes. Odessa bit the inside of her cheek, taking a breath and instinctively breaking her gaze with Paige’s, not wanting to actively be on the receiving end of her silent scowl. No doubt Calum essentially dressing up in a couple’s costume with anyone but her was grating at Paige’s nerves, and Odessa had a strong feeling if she wasn’t on Paige’s shit list before, she definitely earned a spot now. The glare Paige had practiced into a look of neutrality—one that Odessa was too familiar with—rested on her face, razor-like eyes settled on Odessa.

Adamant on keeping her gaze averted from Paige’s, Odessa looked at Luke and offered a smile. “Weren’t you a vampire when we were seniors?”

Luke scoffed, clearly unperturbed by his repeated costume. “Yeah—but now I’ve got someone to complete the look,” he reasoned with a dimpled grin, dropping his arm around Sierra’s shoulders. Odessa smiled at the sight, taking in her matching vampire costume and makeup, noting the clever detail of fake blood trailing down the corners of Luke’s lips to match the painted on red bite marks on the side of Sierra’s neck.

Ashton rolled his eyes, giving the couple a pointed look as he said, “If you two win the costume contest, then this shit is rigged.”

As Sierra told Ashton that wouldn’t happen, KayKay, who was appropriately dressed as Winona Ryder from Beetlejuice, looked over at Odessa and Calum, a smile on her face as she raised her eyebrows and asked, “So your students understood your costumes’ reference?”

Odessa huffed out a laugh. “I would’ve cried if they didn’t.” Though, it wouldn’t be too surprising, she figured. Not every, if any, high school student knew the beauty of Jane Austen.

Next to her Calum chuckled before, leaning closer, he asked, “I’m gonna grab a beer—you want anything?”

She wasn’t in the mood to do any heavy drinking tonight, so she opted for one as well. “I’ll have the same, thanks.”

He acknowledged her request with a boyish wink, one that foolishly warmed Odessa’s cheeks, before he turned to head towards the kitchen. Odessa tuned back into whatever conversations her friends were having upon his leave, only to have Crystal lean close and smile, “You two would honestly be so cute.”

She said it quietly, only loud enough for Odessa to hear, and although Crystal’s words had Odessa’s heart stopping for a moment, she also pressed her teeth together when oblivious to Crystal, Paige shot the blonde woman a glare behind her head. Clearly she heard what Crystal said, the idea of Calum with Odessa not one she was in support of as her jaw tightened before her sharp eyes met Odessa’s blue. Her stare was firm, intense, as if she was silently challenging Odessa to agree with Crystal’s statement.

Odessa’s stomach twisted. The subtle giddiness she’d felt over Crystal’s comment was overshadowed by the anxious guilt—guilt for what? She had no reason to feel guilty!—that stirred in the pit of Odessa’s stomach under Paige’s irritated glare. She didn’t even look hurt at the thought of overhearing someone else would ‘look cute’ with the guy she supposedly had a claim over—just downright annoyed.

In the back of Odessa’s mind, she wondered if Paige genuinely liked Calum, or just liked the idea of him.

“No, no, we’re just friends,” Odessa told Crystal, a light yet nervous laugh accompanying her words. She wasn’t sure if she was defending, protesting, denying so she could ease her heart rate or subsequently let Paige know she wasn’t trying to step on her toes. Or feelings. Whichever. Even if the thought of her and Calum made her heart flutter. “There’s nothing like that going on.”

Crystal shrugged, still unaware of Paige listening in, as mirth danced in her blue eyes. “Maybe there should be,” she hummed.

One look at Paige and Odessa knew she vehemently disagreed.

Before Odessa could swallow the small lump that had formed in her throat and reply to Crystal, Calum reappeared next to her, handing her a bottle of Stella Artois with a smile. He held his own out, waiting for her to clink her bottle with his as he greeted, “Miss Bennet.”

She looked at him, felt some of the tension ease from her muscles as he pulled out a smile from her so effortlessly. Calum was smiling, as always, dark eyes glimmering against the dimmed lighting of Luke’s house. With an amused shake of her head, Odessa asked not for the first time, “You take this seriously, don’t you?”

Calum grinned, bringing the bottle up to his lips as he offered a shrug. “Just a little.”

Conversations continued along with the music that was playing, and as Odessa watched Calum engage in a round of beer pong against KayKay, Luke leaned against the wall next to Odessa and asked, “So are you chaperoning that field trip Cal was telling me about? To Big Bear?”

“Oh, yeah,” Odessa answered with a hum as she remembered. It was a weekend trip for the juniors and seniors between Thanksgiving weekend and Christmas break, and Odessa had signed up to be a chaperone, and given that Big Bear was going to have snow around this time of year, she needed to do some winter packing. “I’m excited.”

Luke raised an eyebrow at her, although her gaze remained on the beer pong game going on in front of them. “Do you even know how to ski?”

Rolling her eyes, she told her friend, “I don’t have to ski to enjoy the resort, Luke.”

Paige shook her head, sipping her drink before asking, “If you don’t even know how to ski, why bother going?”

She sounded unimpressed, patronizing, and Odessa had a feeling she was the only one who picked up on it—and maybe Luke, who knew Paige almost as well as she did. Inhaling a silent, calming breath, Odessa kept her expression relaxed and offered a shrug. “I want to see snow.” God, there was no reason for her to even have to explain herself.

Paige rolled her eyes, hiding her sneer behind the rim of her cup as she took another sip, and Odessa clenched her jaw as she looked away from her. Her annoyance with Paige was mixing in with the ever present nerves that made themselves known when she was in her presence, and Odessa did her best to just focus on the beer pong game going on.

It was a close game, both KayKay and Calum good at the act of tossing ping pong balls into cups, letting out a chuckle as KayKay tossed the ball in the last cup standing and missing. Her groan was drowned out by everyone’s exclaims, and as Calum picked up the ball, ready to toss it into the single cup left for him as well, his brown eyes met Odessa’s blue. Then, with a boyish wink, he said, “This one’s for you, Miss Bennet.”

Odessa’s eyebrows shot up, unsure if she wanted to laugh or have the ground open up beneath her. He definitely wasn’t making things easier for her against Paige—not that he was under any obligation to.

He certainly wasn’t making it any easier to completely discard Paige’s glares and revel in the warmth he spread throughout her own cheeks.

Calum tossed the little white ball, and everyone let out a cheering exclaims as it landed in the cup with a muted plop! that had him smirking triumphantly. Odessa let out a laugh as Calum came to stand next to her, arm dropping around her shoulders as he smirked, “Think you’re my good luck charm, Essa.” He frowned at himself momentarily before shooting her a sheepish smile. “In a way that’s not objectifying at all, I mean.”

She snorted with a shake of her head, though Odessa definitely found it endearing that Calum would think she’d ever find anything he said as objectifying. Still, as amused as she was by him, she couldn’t entirely ignore the warmth in her cheeks at their sudden proximity—or his sentiment of her being his good luck charm. They stood closely together, his heat seeping into her skin through the thin material of the dress she wore, and Odessa hoped her makeup and the dim lighting of the den would mask the pink blush she could feel spreading through her face. The knowing smirk Crystal shot her way didn’t help.

“I don’t really have any winter clothes,” Odessa chuckled as she watched Sierra make herself a drink, leaning against the counter. “I think I need to buy at least one coat for the cold.”

It was some time after watching Calum and KayKay’s beer pong game, and Odessa had ended up in the kitchen with Sierra, the party continuing around them. There was a girl in an Elsa costume making out with a guy dressed up as a firefighter next to the fridge. Meanwhile, Odessa and Sierra were discussing the field trip Odessa was going on soon, and how her lack of winter clothes was going to make it a bit difficult for her to stay warm in the snowy mountains. Truth be told, Odessa hadn’t even been aware California had those, so she was wholly unprepared for the trip to Big Bear Mountain.

“Oh, you can borrow one of mine!” Sierra offered with a smile. With a laugh, she added, “I’m from the east coast, so I’ve got a couple of coats. I’m pretty sure we’re the same size.”

Odessa’s eyes lit up in hope. “Really? You sure?”

“Yeah, of course,” Sierra answered with a shrug. “It’s not like I need to wear ’em anyway. Plus you won’t be wasting money. No big deal.”

Letting out a sigh of relief, Odessa held her nearly empty bottle of beer to her chest as she said, “You’re a life saver.”

Sierra grinned before taking a sip of her drink, tasting it. When she was satisfied with it, her dark eyes met Odessa’s blue, and she saw the mischief spark in them. “No problem—although I’m sure Calum would be more than happy to warm you up if you get too cold.”

Unfortunately, Odessa had been taking a sip of her drink too, and she wished the music and people chattering muted Sierra’s words because as soon as they registered in Odessa’s head, she coughed in surprise, eyes widening as she gaped at her amused friend. Heart drumming within her chest, Odessa gave a shake of her head as she sputtered stupidly, “What?”

Sierra shot her a look, one that was silently asking Odessa who she was trying to fool, and it only made her cheeks flame up. God. Was it everyone’s goal tonight to make her face permanently red? She folded into herself, lips pressing together as Sierra scoffed. “Come on, Odessa—you two are so obviously into each other in, like, the most wholesome way. I say instead of waiting for him to make the move, you do it. Cal’s way above the average clueless man but, y’know, he’s still a guy and they can be clueless.”

Odessa had no idea what to say or do except stare at her friend in mortified shock, and Odessa kind of hated that she felt embarrassed at all. Like she was in middle school and someone just exposed her crush on the popular boy or something. The worst part was. . . Odessa wasn’t sure if she was flustered because Sierra was right to conclude that Odessa liked Calum, or because Odessa knew that other people’s acknowledgment of it would make whatever the hell her situation with Paige was all the more complicated and stressful. Stepping on Paige’s toes was the last thing she wanted to do, and in wanting to avoid it, Odessa was somehow doing just that.

Her throat worked as she glanced away from Sierra, only for her gaze to land on their friends in the living room. She caught them all by the couch and instantly Odessa’s gaze locked in on Calum sitting on one end of the couch—and Paige sitting on the arm rest, as close to him as she could be without literally being on his lap. The sight tugged something painfully in Odessa’s chest and she frowned at herself; she had no right to feel jealous.

Was this how Paige felt when she watched Calum put his arm around Odessa, how she felt when she was subjected to Odessa’s closeness with Calum? When Odessa first moved into town, Paige had made it quite clear, in just a few words, that Calum was basically off limits—which was gross and territorial in Odessa’s opinion, but she truly had tried her best to respect Paige’s so-called claim—ew. But it wasn’t easy, not with Calum and her working together and their friendship developing within the school and out of it. Being friends with him was so effortless, and falling for him had happened somewhere in between. Odessa couldn’t ever hope to pinpoint when exactly her feelings for him grew—it had happened quickly, blindly.

Maybe she was in the wrong. For someone who hadn’t wanted to encroach on Paige’s feelings for Calum, Odessa was doing just that splendidly. She didn’t know whether what Paige felt for Calum was purely physical or something deeper, and it wasn’t any of Odessa’s business in the first place. Either way, she should’ve respected whatever feelings Paige had for Calum and kept her distance, for all of their sakes. She’d screwed up.

As if feeling her gaze on him, Calum glanced away from where he was listening to Ashton talk to the group, his gaze searching past the bodies moving in the space between where he sat and Odessa stood until his eyes met hers. Odessa froze where she stood, watching as a smile upturned Calum’s lips and he nodded at her boyishly, the mundane gesture prompting her to suck in a silent breath. But before she could return the smile, Odessa felt another pair of eyes on her, and her gaze flickered just a bit for her blue eyes to meet Paige’s sharp hazel ones; watching, challenging, narrowing. She’d clearly seen Calum’s little acknowledgment to Odessa and hadn’t liked it too much.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

Odessa looked away from them, catching Sierra’s eye and offering a smile that felt too nervous. “No one’s gonna be making any moves, Sierra,” she told her, not unkindly. “It’d be too complicated.” Finishing off her drink, Odessa tossed her empty bottle in the bin told her friend hastily, “I’m gonna head to the bathroom.”

“Oh, here,” Sierra stopped her, digging into the pocket of her leather pants and handing her a key. Odessa took it with a raised brow and Sierra laughed. “It’s the key to our bedroom—I’d rather you use our bathroom than face whatever mess in the others.”

Odessa let out a small chuckle, taking the key with an appreciative smile before exiting the kitchen hastily, letting out a breath as she reached the stairs and headed up. The distance she was putting between herself and her friends made it easier to breathe as she made her way around the dressed up party goers and found the master bedroom, using the key to unlock the door and step inside.

The room felt significantly cooler than the rest of the house, the lack of body heat making the air conditioner a lot more effective as Odessa walked to the ensuite bathroom Sierra so graciously provided her access to.

The sound of the flush momentarily muted the music blasting throughout the house, and as Odessa washed her hands, she let out a long sigh. She gazed at her reflection, took in the subtle glittering of her cheekbones and bright blue eyes framed by long eyelashes, and Odessa eyebrows knitted together in an involuntary frown. In the quiet of the bathroom, the party beyond the bedroom muffled, Odessa gave herself a moment to erase the image of Paige and Calum merely sitting by one another—God, how pathetic was she to be bothered by that?—and mull over Sierra’s words, as well as Crystal’s.

Odessa desperately wished her friends’ comments were just teasing, were derived from, to put it grandly, their shared delusion that there was something between Odessa and Calum. But she had a sinking feeling that it wasn’t, that if both of them were picking up on something, then it was because there was something to pick up on. Despite Odessa’s attempts of not acting on whatever she felt for Calum out of respect for a girl she barely considered a friend.

She didn’t even to consider the slim possibility of Calum returning her feelings. Odessa genuinely would not know what to do then; she wasn’t a selfish person—at least, she liked to think she wasn’t. But she had a feeling if she found out that Calum liked her back, she would become one, Paige be damned.

That’s how it should’ve been in the first place. Odessa clenched her jaw, shushing the voice in her head that normally sounded reasonable. Right now, it was just asking for trouble.

After drying her hands and smoothing down her dress, she exited the bathroom while bracing herself to head back downstairs, eyebrows raising when she heard a knock on the locked bedroom door. When Odessa opened it, she fought to keep her expression neutral when she saw Paige standing in the hallway. “Hey—I have to use the bathroom. Sierra said you’d let me in.”

“Oh.” Odessa blinked, nodding. “Yeah, sure.”

Paige stepped inside and Odessa glanced down at the key in her hand. Deciding she’d rather hand it off to Paige than wait for her, Odessa made to turn towards her, only to be cut off by Paige’s sharp voice. “Are you, like, into Calum?”

Odessa gaped at her, mouth drying at the sudden question. She shouldn’t be surprised at Paige’s bluntness at this point, yet she still found herself freezing in shock. “I’m not—”

“Come on, Odessa—don’t lie to me,” Paige cut her off with an empty scoff, shooting her a blank look. “It’s so obvious you’ve got a thing for him—you’re not doing a great job in hiding it.” She crossed her arms over her chest, even further accentuating the tight bodice of her Cruella de Vil costume. Odessa tried not to find irony in her costume. The smoky eyeshadow only seemed to intensify her sharp gaze and Odessa hated that she had to fight the urge to bristle. “So, seriously—what the hell is going on?”

“I—nothing,” Odessa told her, stressing her answer. It was true enough—nothing was going on, not between her and Calum. But her own thoughts and feelings were her own. Odessa didn’t owe Paige any insight on what she was feeling. She hated that she even felt guilty about something she couldn’t quite control, but it wasn’t like she had acted on it. She was doing everything she could to respect that—and it was hard when she saw Calum five days out of the week; sometimes more if they saw each other on the weekend. The line between feeling platonic fondness and actual attraction—more than in just the physical sense—had blurred and Odessa couldn’t hope to figure out when. “Calum and I are just friends, Paige. It’s not like that.”

Paige scoffed again, utterly unimpressed as she rolled her hazel eyes. “Either you think I’m an idiot, or you genuinely have no idea how obvious your feelings for him are.” Her tone turned mocking. “The whole work husband-wife thing, these costumes? It’s pathetic, Odessa.”

Air caught in Odessa’s throat, and she wasn’t sure if it tightened from anger or her suppressing the need to harshly scoff. She was calling Odessa pathetic? It was both ironic and hypocritical of Paige to deem Odessa as such, not when she practically latched onto Calum whenever they were in the same room. Paige wouldn’t be mouthing off so much if she knew whatever she was trying to accuse Odessa of was actually all Calum’s doing.

And, God, Odessa absolutely loathed that she was shitting on another woman over a guy—hated that she was thinking lowly of Paige at all, despite the other having no problem in making Odessa feel like that. She never did—not back in college, nor now. But Odessa had never stooped to Paige’s level; she always kept her bitter and annoyed thoughts to herself, and even then, scolded herself for ever thinking them. She wanted to be better than how people like Paige treated her. And, sure, no one would know what Odessa was thinking but herself, but it still made her feel guilty.

Her aggravated thoughts and the music playing throughout the house did little to drown out Paige’s words from Odessa’s head, and she bit the inside of her lower lip at the heat flooded her face once more. No. She couldn’t let Paige get to her. At the very least, she couldn’t let Paige show that she did. She wouldn’t let her have that kind of power over her.

Odessa took in a breath through her nose, willing herself to calm down, at least for a moment. She didn’t like hurling insults and vicious words to someone else. Pushing past the guilt, anger, and embarrassment, she calmly repeated, “Calum and I are just friends, Paige.” With a lift of her chin, she added, “If you can’t accept that, then it’s not my problem. I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

Paige’s lips parted, clearly caught off guard by Odessa’s words, a short huff of a breath escaping her. But instead of giving her the chance to respond, Odessa placed the key on the dresser next to her before turning and stepping out of the room. “Make sure you lock the door behind you,” she added before shutting it behind her and reintegrating herself into the thriving party.

It was once the door was clicked shut behind her that Odessa let out a deep sigh. Some of the tension she inherently felt whenever she was around Paige left her body—not just because a door now separated them, but because the words Odessa had uttered seemed to have edged off some of her body’s rigidness permanently. Not all, but it was a start.

Odessa frowned to herself as she made her way down the hall, moving around the few people lingering. She had no doubt that Paige’s words were coated in jealousy, she’d heard it in her voice, but that didn’t mean they didn’t startle Odessa. Especially adding onto Sierra and Crystal’s—albeit kinder—assumptions. When it came to letting her feelings, specifically in the romantic sense, be known, Odessa wasn’t an expert. She didn’t often get into relationships, mostly because she wasn’t the best in expressing who she wanted. Her last serious relationship had been in college, and although since then she’d taken her fair share part in hook up culture, true romance hadn’t really knocked on her door.

Not that it had now, either. But even she couldn’t ignore her constantly growing feelings for Calum. And despite her efforts in trying to hide them, she hadn’t been entirely successful. Her childish embarrassment stemmed from her friends figuring out her feelings without her meaning to, and it led Odessa into wondering if Calum picked up on it, too. That’s what was embarrassing; not her feelings.

Odessa shook her head as she went down the stairs. When was she going to stop letting Paige get into her head?

More importantly—when was she going to move past the habit of keeping herself from indulging in her feelings?

She reached the bottom of the stairs and her gaze went right to where she’d last seen her friends by one of the couches. Calum was grinning, drinking a White Claw, the smile on his face bright as he animatedly laughed at something deaf to Odessa’s ears. The sight of him made her chest tighten, her heart yearn. Odessa was completely oblivious to when and how she’d fallen for Calum so quickly, so fucking hard, and that sense of losing control was kind of terrifying. He made her smile so easily, made her feel at ease despite her roaring thoughts. Acknowledging the extent of her feelings for him should be exciting, right?

She failed to swallow the lump in her throat. It seemed as though allowing herself to indulge in her feelings wouldn’t start tonight.

*****

“You didn’t have to get up so early, Grams. I have Lettie to keep me company,” Odessa laughed lightly, scratching the top of the feline’s head as Grams poured herself some tea.

“True, but this one doesn’t talk back much,” Grams responded, sitting down at the small table across from Odessa. It was early on Friday morning, and with it being a county holiday, it made for the perfect day to get a head start on the three day weekend trip to Big Bear Mountain. She would have to get to the high school soon to receive her bus roster and make sure all the students who were supposed to be in attendance were present. Grams’ eyes met Odessa’s. “There’s been something bothering you, baby, and I wanted to see if you wanted to talk about it before you left.”

Odessa paused in absently stirring her bowl of Cheerios, frowning at her grandmother. “I don’t—I’m fine, Grams,” she said with a breezy laugh, hoping it sounded convincing.

Her grandmother was perceptive, gazing at her unconvincingly. It was still early in the morning, the sun just slowly rising, and Odessa could see orange and red painting the sky as some sunlight streamed in through the window above the kitchen sink. “Something’s been on your mind, Odessa,” Grams pushed gently, the concerned look reappearing in her blue-grey eyes. “I don’t want you going away on this trip with something weighing you down. Maybe I can help.”

Chewing her cereal, Odessa’s grip on the spoon tightened as she considered her grandmother’s words. She was right, of course; something was weighing her down, had been since Luke and Sierra’s Halloween party where she’d had her little confrontation with Paige. And where Odessa and Calum had won the couples part of the costume contest. Man, that had only pissed Paige off more, and Odessa kind of really hated she let the girl affect her so much.

She really was pathetic, wasn’t she?

“It’s just. . . Drama,” Odessa sighed, throat feeling dry despite the cold milk she was drinking. “Boy drama and girl drama and me being an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot,” Grams instantly chastised, a disapproving frown on her softly weathered face. “What drama?”

Odessa twisted her lips to the side, frowning down at her nearly empty bowl. She’d been keeping all of this inside for so long—maybe talking to her grandmother would lessen whatever burden she felt on her shoulders. And heart. Maybe she’d see the light of herself being so fucking dramatic.

“I like Calum.” It was a fact. A firm and true as the earth being round and the sky being blue. And yet, uttering out loud in the otherwise quiet of the kitchen, of confessing it to even just her grandmother—it felt like the fist that was wrapped around Odessa’s heart had loosened substantially. She thought of Calum, and she not only pictured his warm eyes and kind smile, but his love for Toni Morrison and talent for writing beautiful songs as well as his loud passion for teaching and coaching. She saw the enthusiasm he taught with, the leadership he coached with, and the kindness he never left home without. He was gorgeous inside and out and Odessa liked him with every fiber of her being.

As frightening as it was to admit that, it was just as freeing.

“But so does Paige. I mean, I think she does—”

“What do you mean, think?” Grams asked with a frown. Before that, though, Odessa hadn’t missed her smile when she uttered her own confession.

Letting out a sigh, Odessa briefly explained the way Paige presented her attraction to Calum—how it seemed more physical and territorial than consisting of true feelings. Of course, Odessa also acknowledged that all of that was conjecture, because she didn’t truly know how Paige felt. She merely stated what she saw when she watched and listened to Paige talk about Calum. Odessa wouldn’t hold her own feelings above Paige’s, no matter how much she didn’t like her. The only thing Odessa could be sure of was her own feelings.

“And I don’t—” Odessa let out a tired sigh. “I don’t want to have issues with another girl over a guy. It’s so juvenile and just not what I stand for, you know? But I like him a lot, Grams. Him being my coworker is complicated enough—but other than that, how could I even act on my feelings knowing that Paige is interested too?”

Not to mention the fact that she and Calum had slept together already before. That was a fact Odessa tried to keep out of her mind as much as she could. Because if she were to dwell on it, the realization of Calum wanting to be with Paige over her would suffocate her unforgivingly. But, God, what if she was already setting herself up for an inevitable heartbreak?

This is why she didn’t do feelings.

“You’re making this far more complicated than it is, sweetheart.” Odessa’s eyes widened, gaping at Grams in disbelief. She was what? Grams’s expression sobered up, eyebrows lowering as she adopted a serious expression. “You’re not the other woman in this situation. As far as I can tell, there is no relationship between Calum and Paige that you’re disrupting. If you want to be with Calum, let him know, see how he feels. The worst he can do is tell you he wants to be friends, and you can stop focusing your attention on someone who doesn’t deserve it.” Grams scoffed, then. “Call me biased, but that boy would be crazy to not be interested in you, baby.”

Odessa could feel her heart in her throat, despite logically knowing it was impossible. But some of Grams’s words had struck a chord—you’re not the other woman. Memories of her parents’ marriage falling apart flooded Odessa’s mind, remembering the unforgettable moments of her father’s secret family coming to light, watching as her parents’ already crumbling marriage turn into dust. Was that what Odessa was doing? Painting herself to be some kind of intruder infiltrating on Calum and Paige’s relationship—one that was very possibly just construed by Odessa’s own imagination and Paige’s fleeting comments—the way she always viewed her now-step-mother as in her parents’ marriage?

The shaking guilt she felt suddenly made sense, and Odessa gasped before she could help it. Oh, yeah. Adolescent trauma loved screwing with one’s head, didn’t it?

Her conversation with Grams was all that replayed in Odessa’s head as she drove to the school, not even bothering with the radio. Odessa chewed on her lower lip as she drove, frowning at herself for her behavior for the past week. She’d kept her interactions with Calum as minimal as she could; brief conversations in the teacher’s lounge, only passing hello’s in the hall, not waiting for him to come by her room after school when he didn’t have to coach soccer practice so they could walk to the parking lot together. If Calum picked up on her distancing actions, he didn’t make a comment on them, yet Odessa hadn’t missed the occasional frowns that drew together his eyebrows when she’d cut their conversations short by making up some excuse or another to get away.

She was being childish. Unreasonable. Scared. Paige’s comments from the party had stung more than Odessa would care to admit, and she let it influence the way she was around Calum. Maybe, she had hoped, it would dull some of what she felt for him. It only seemed to do the opposite.

What now, though? They were two of the six teacher chaperones for this trip. She couldn’t quite avoid him for the entire weekend. Did she even want to? Perhaps. Despite being vocal about her feelings—even if it was just to Grams—Odessa still needed to figure out whether or not she wanted to act on them, feeling the need to reconsider her course of action. In a confusing and twisted sense, being around Calum would only make the deciding process all the more muddled.

Odessa sighed. She was being crazy. But it made sense to her and, at the end of the day, she was learning that that’s what mattered.

Between seven-thirty and eight-thirty, the time passed quickly as students and teachers arrived to the school, all carrying duffels and small carry-ons containing their weekend belongings. Odessa stood by Diana Vogel, a biology teacher and one of the other chaperones, as the two chatted about the trip and having to sit on a two hour bus ride with dozens of students. Hopefully the early morning would allow for many of them to get some more sleep.

Slowly, as the parking lot filled with more students arriving, it grew bustling, the air filled with a low hum of chatter as everyone waited for attendance and to board the waiting charter buses. Odessa passed her time by chatting with Diana, with some students, and at one point her gaze wandered over to a familiar black SUV pulling into its designated parking spot, and Odessa was only absently listening to Diana talk about her excitement to see snow as she watched Calum step out of the vehicle. He looked comfortable in black track pants and a red hoodie, a small suitcase in hand as he greeted some of the soccer players who immediately went over to him.

Their eyes met from where they stood, a distance between them that could easily be closed, but Odessa remained put. Her moment alone with her thoughts on the drive to school hadn’t really helped her reach a decision of what she wanted to do. Distance was good. Distance would help.

Even if the frown on Calum’s face she caught before breaking their gaze had her chest tightening.

Soon enough, once everyone had seemed to arrive, Mrs. Greggs—who was also the freshman advisor and who was ultimately in charge—distributed lists to all of the other chaperones which consisted of which bus was theirs, which students were to be on it, and who their chaperone partner was.

Odessa glanced down at the list and bit back a curse. Calum’s name stared back at her and at this point, Odessa wasn’t quite sure if the universe was on her side or against it.

She glanced up, as if feeling Calum’s gaze on her, their eyes locking for a moment. He offered a small smile and Odessa hated that he hesitated in showing her it, a reminder how her self imposed distancing from Calum was effecting him too, and she mustered up a smile back. It was always so easy to smile at Calum. Why was she making things so difficult for them? For herself?

“Alright—load ’em up!” Mrs. Greggs announced after anyone who needed to quickly go to the bathroom returned, gesturing towards the buses.

As she neared the bus she was to go on, Odessa saw Calum standing by the compartments where everyone was going to toss in their carry-ons and duffel bags, and he looked at Odessa as she neared them. “I’ll help them with the bags, you go on the bus?” he questioned, raising an eyebrow to see if that was okay with her.

Odessa nodded, pressing her lips together and offering a smile at the same time. “Sounds good,” she said, pulling her carry-on forward.

Calum reached out. “I got it,” he said, and Odessa’s heart thumped as he took it from her before carefully placing it in the compartment.

She thanked him quietly, unsure if he even heard as he helped one of the girls with hers, and Odessa boarded the bus with a smile towards the bus driver. She and Calum were to sit in the front, so she claimed the two front right seats, back against the window and list in hand as she watched students board the bus. They were all talkative as they did so, some making sure to greet her, and Odessa smiled in return as she took in some of the faces that were familiar and others that were not. She only taught freshman and sophomores, and since this trip was for juniors and seniors, the only students she knew were ones she’d occasionally see in the hallway, the soccer players, or the students she’d see at the games.

She watched as students settled next to their friends on the seats, chattering away in a quiet excitement about the trip. Though, she had been right—Odessa definitely picked up on several students looking forward to sleeping on the drive there.

Calum was the last one to get on the bus, and once he stood by Odessa, he called for all the students’ attention, effectively silencing them, and Odessa then proceeded to call out attendance to make sure everyone who needed to be on the bus was present. Odessa focused on the task at hand rather than Calum standing right next to her, until it was done, and Mrs. Greggs came by to check if everything was ready.

About five minutes later, they had left the school, which meant for Odessa and Calum to be seated together for the next two hours and fifteen minutes. She kept her gaze out the window, watching as they passed by buildings and cars and people, trying her hardest not to focus on the tension between her and Calum she knew she was at fault for. Why was it difficult for her to continue to just act normal, be friends, instead of making things awkward by instilling some distance between them? How was that going to help?

She knew she was being kind of ridiculous. And yet, she didn’t stop herself.

Odessa couldn’t block out both of her ears to listen to keep herself occupied, given that she had to chaperone the students, so she merely put an earbud in her left ear, the closest to Calum, and began watching an episode of Dead to Me. She’s all too aware of Calum next to her, who’s pulled out a book to read. Odessa wished she could read something—the only transportation she could read a book on was a plane. Reading while in a car, bus, or train left her feeling lightheaded. Which, as a woman who enjoyed reading more than anything else, was quite frustrating.

A little over an hour into the drive, Odessa was still watching her show and Calum was still reading his book, and despite herself, she wondered why he hadn’t tried to make conversation yet. The bus was relatively quiet; most of the students opted to catch up on some sleep, and those who were awake conversed in hushed tones. All Odessa could really hear, apart from the hum of the bus engine, was the audio from the show she was watching and the occasional scratch of a page turning when Calum was finished with it. His focus was only on what he read, never glancing at her once. And wasn’t that what she wanted? For there to be space?

Odessa’s grip on her phone tightened. All she could do was watch her show and try not to think of Calum’s familiar cologne wafting over to her, or focus on the way his thigh occasionally brushed against hers where they sat. Grams’s words from earlier echoed through Odessa’s mind, overpowering the audio of the show. If you want to be with Calum, let him know.

She glanced at him. His gaze was lowered to the book he was reading, features settled into a soft neutrality, eyelashes brushing his cheekbones every time he blinked. Blonde curls fell across his forehead and her fingers itched to brush them away. Odessa quickly looked backed to her phone just as his head ever so slightly turned towards her, cheeks on fire when she knew he’d caught her staring, could feel his gaze on her. Her throat worked, purposefully freezing her gaze on the screen.

Fuck. What was she doing?

tags: @irwinkitten @sweetcherrymike @astroashtonio @loveroflrh @meetashthere @loverofhood @captain-what-is-going-on @angelbbycal @singt0mecalum @hopelessxcynic @lfwallscouldtalk @bodhi-black @findingliam-o @softlrh @highfivecalum @malumsmermaid @erikamarie41 @quintodosuniversos @longlastingdaydream @babylon-corgis @lukehemmingsunflower @miss-saltwatercowgirl @pastelpapermoons @conquerwhatliesahead92 @rotten-kandy @metangi @neigcthood @ohhmuke @mindkaleidoscope @5sos-and-hessa @trustmeimawhalebiologist @vxlentinecal @pettybassists @vaporshawn @lu-my-golden-boi @visualm3nte @isabella-mae13 @dontjinx-it @lifeakaharry @neonweeknds @antisocialbandmate @ixcantxdecidexwhosxmyxfave @calpalbby @grreatgooglymoogly @sunnysidesblog @miahelizaaabeth @dramallamawithsparkles @kaytiebug14 @hoodskillerqueen @bitchinbabylon @empathycth @xhaileyreneex @inlovehoodx @bloodlinecal @sublimehood @madbomb @raabiac @britnicole11 @outofmylimitcal @wildflower-cth @wildflowergrae @bloodmoonashton @vxidhood @gosh-im-short @thesubtweeter @mycollectionofnuts @cthwldflwr @everyscarisahealingplace @socorroann @talkfastromance4 @calumftduke @musichoney @treatallwithkindness @partlysunnycal @dead-and-golden @kaeleykaeley @harrys-sun-flower @br-hoe

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navigatrixnarrations · 3 years

Text

Sometimes Always, Chapter 1: Thieves Alley

The first chapter of a canon divergent kind-of fix-it set after Season 3 as encouraged by @whenimaunicorn. The beginning looks familiar because I posted it as a WIP, but it continues.

Warnings: Canon-typical violence and profanity

Words: 2034

Charles Vane once heard that a man can only truly possess that which he cannot lose in a shipwreck. For all the times he’s had to run with nothing but his life in his hands, and those times are many, this most recent is the hardest to bear.

The late autumn sleet beats against the drafty window of his rented room by the wharves. Nor'easters, he learned these storms are called, blowing in off the Atlantic, bringing traffic in the harbor to a standstill and turning the muddy streets into debris-strewn rivers.

Until recently, he spent his entire life in the heat of the West Indies. New York City is cold and unceasingly raw. Its damp chill seeps into his bones and makes old injuries ache damnably. Vane finds himself taking a liking to these storms anyway; they match his mood.

Perhaps he should head to the tavern where he works instead of huddling by the small fire trying to ignore the past. The tavern owner is a freedman, known to give a hand to other former slaves. All Vane had to do was show the brand on his chest and scowl a little, and he was given a job as a bouncer. The irony of it: Charles Vane, notorious scourge of the seas, reduced to breaking up drunken brawls and preventing grown men from pissing on the floor under an assumed name. Still, he’s alive and free, right under the noses of the fucking English…

He’s definitely being followed. He dislikes being followed. He turns to see that several of the tavern-goers are coming toward him, an assortment of weapons in hand. He dryly thinks that times must be hard indeed if they intend to rob him of his pay; split several ways it wouldn’t even be enough for a mug of ale each. A pistol goes off, grazing a leg just barely recovered from the last time he was shot, and Vane staggers. His attackers are nearly upon him when a slightly-built figure leaps between them. A low-pitched female voice, an oddly familiar voice, calls out something in what Vane recognizes as Dutch. There is laughter from the others, and they withdraw.

The woman approaches, her hands empty, reaching down to assist him. He gets the impression of large eyes in an angular face, a dark coat wrapped tight against the mist. Is it? Can it be?

She looks at him as if seeing a ghost, albeit a ghost with whom she is slightly cross. Then she remembers herself. “Charles.” Her expression turns wry. “Did I hear them refer to you as ‘Mr. Thatch’ back there at the tavern?”

He checks her face for any sign of fury, and sees none. “I can’t very well go by my own name now, can I, Miss Teach.”

“It’s Mrs. Sullivan now. And no, I suppose you can’t. I’m sure my father wouldn’t mind you using one of his last names; you’re more his child than I ever was.” Her tone is matter-of-fact, without bitterness.

He forces a levity to his voice that he does not feel. “So you married Sully? How is he, anyway?” At least she wedded a brave man and a kind one.

She shuts her eyes slowly, shakes her head, then reopens them. “He’s been dead three years. Took a bullet to the head in a raid.”

“Margaret, I’m…”

“Save the platitudes, Charles. They don’t suit you.” She looks tired, her eyes far away. “He was right beside me when it happened. He died free and he didn’t suffer.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that. What can he possibly say to that. Memories of the three of them as teenagers, skylarking in the rigging of the Revenge. Vane was the strongest, Margaret was the fastest, and Sully, well, Sully was acrobatic and fearless. And Sully made her laugh, something she did far too seldom. Vane envied him that ability.

She turns her sharp gaze back to him. "If you’re wondering what I said to your new friends back there, I told them that while it is clear that the only thing you use your head for is growing hair, entering Thieves Alley alone as you did with a pocket full of coin, it would be cruel to deprive you of it."

In spite of himself, he huffs out a short laugh. She’s studying him, and he thinks she sees the question that he cannot bring himself to ask aloud. I missed you. Did you miss me?

“My last words to you were cruel.” She takes a deep breath, steeling herself. “I regret them. I’m glad I have the opportunity to tell you so.” Why did I get you out of there if you’re going to go do her bidding, be her attack dog? She doesn’t love you, Charles, she’s incapable of loving anyone. And now you’re walking right back into another kind of slavery and it was all for nothing. If I never see you again, it will be too soon. She jumped into one of the longboats and never once looked back at him as the men rowed it out to the ship. He wanted to call out to her to stay, that he changed his mind, but youthful stupid pride made the words stick in his throat. In the end he watched her climb the rope ladder to the Revenge, watched her sail out of Nassau Harbor, watched her disappear over the horizon...

Vane holds her gaze because he’s certain that she would not welcome him holding her body. “Everything you said to me was true, though I couldn’t see that at the time. You had every reason to hate me.”

Margaret tilts her head to one side. “I never hated you, though I tried. Never even resented you, really.” She sighs. “I resented my father for wanting a son so badly that he all but ignored me once you arrived, and I resented the hell out of myself for trying so hard to win his approval.” She pauses. “You’re shivering.”

He starts to deny it but Margaret rolls her eyes at him. “Yes, I know, you’re tougher than the rain and wind and you’re made out of pain and hunger, but you’re not dressed for this climate. Let’s get you in front of a fire. I didn’t come to your aid yet again for you to catch consumption in fucking stinking Thieves Alley.” Vane knows better than to argue with her when she takes that tone.

He falls into step beside her and follows her through a series of alleyways, up some back stairs to a garret. It’s two rooms, sparse but clean, a fire burned down to embers in the small hearth. She drags two chairs and a small table closer to the fireplace and gestures for him to sit while she sets about stoking the fire. He finds himself admiring the quiet confidence with which she moves, the deft precision of her hands. That hasn’t changed. The wooden chair feels like heaven after a night on his feet, and the fire quickly warms the small room. He slouches back and stares into the flames while Margaret bustles around, hanging her coat on a peg, boiling the kettle. Unconsciously, the fingers of one hand worry at the scar on his neck left by the hangman’s noose. It’s slight, but it’s there. In most ways he’s recovered from his brief hempen jig. He can sometimes go hours without thinking of it, but there will always be reminders. Much, Vane muses, like his years sailing with Edward Teach and daughter.

Everything hurt. The latest flogging from the taskmaster tore his back open from shoulder to waist, and he could barely stand. His whole body was wracked with fever. He heard a girl’s voice, and a man’s voice, both unfamiliar, distorted-sounding, and then he was being carried. He must have lost consciousness; when he came to, the whole world was swaying and he heard the creaking of boards, waves lapping against the...hull? Why was he on a ship? Had he been sold again? And then a girl about his own age was looking down at him with a grave expression, her hair in a braid and her big eyes curious. “Where am I?” he asked her. “You’re on the Revenge,“ she said, and, seeming to intuit his next question, she added “you’re free now. We’re all free here. We’re pirates.” There was pride in her voice and her posture at that last. He later learned he was free because Margaret Teach talked her father into taking him with them.

In the silence that has fallen between them, his stomach growls. He tries to ignore it, but she’s heard. She fetches bread and cheese from a box on the windowsill, a bottle of rum, and a pair of dented tin mugs into which she pours tea, putting it all on the table between them.

That’s what seemed off. She’s wearing a dress, and it’s all wrong. It flatters her well, but it’s all wrong. A proper pirate like her, dressed like a merchant’s wife.

Margaret raises an eyebrow at the look on his face. “It isn't poisoned, Charles” she says dryly as she pours rum into her tea. “If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead by now. I wouldn’t waste good rum.”

He takes the offered bottle and adds a heavy pour to his own tea, then takes a sip and lets it burn all the way down to his belly. “Thrown your lot in with civilization, have you?”

“No.” Her knuckles whiten on the edge of the table and she scowls. “I fucking hate it here.”

He reaches over and places a hand on hers, and is gratified when she doesn’t pull it away. “You’re like me, Magpie. We belong at sea.”

“We do.” Her voice is quiet, wistful. “Nobody’s called me that since Sully died.”

Sully grinned at the way Margaret's eyes tracked the doubloon that Vane set dancing back and forth across his knuckles. “You’re a magpie, that’s what you are.”

“ What’s a magpie?” she asked.

“Very clever little bird, a bit like a crow. They’ll steal anything that catches their eye, especially if it’s shiny, and they’ll have a go at birds of prey many times their size. They live in England.”

Margaret curled her lip. “Fuck England.”

“Fuck England,” Sully agreed. “Rest of it suits you, though.”

Vane thought it was apt for the clever dark-haired pirate girl. His fierce little Magpie.

She turns her hand over in his and gives it a brief squeeze. “I don’t mind you calling me that.” They finish their meal in silence, but it almost feels like the silence of old times. As in old times, it’s easy to fall back into task organizing without needing to discuss it much; he clears up the remnants of their meal while she makes up a cot for him near the hearth.

He hadn’t expected her to invite him to her bed, not really; she never did in the past, and the disastrous choices he made when he was a young man likely destroyed any chance of that in the future. They’re no longer children with a habit of falling asleep in a pile among coils of rope like a litter of alley cats between their watches. But now, all these years later, they’re reunited. It will have to be enough.

From the other room, he hears a sob, quickly stifled. Vane knows Margaret doesn’t want him to know she’s crying, perhaps wants it less even than he wants her to cry, yet how can he ignore the pain she’s in? He tries her door, only to find she’s bolted it from within. He returns to his cot. Eventually sleep takes him, and by some mercy, he does not dream.

#black sails fic #charles vane x ofc #charles vane x oc #sometimes always fic #charles vane fic

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first-and-last-neocount · 3 years

Text

Whumptober Day 3

Now we’re really kicking into high gear on the AUs. This is one of the two AUs for which I’ve written multiple Whumptober fills; this one I’ve been referring to in my head as the Happy Families AU, which is only barely sarcastic, because most of my headcanons for this AU are sickeningly sweet domestic fluff. There’s a few darker bits, though, and that’s what ended up in these fills.

A couple of notes on this AU setting: Jenseny survived her attempted martyrdom, she ended up leaving the Eastern Continent with Damien and Gerald due to the extreme social unrest there and the lingering prejudice against adepts, and after dealing with Calesta the two of them adopted her. Similar to another AU I’ll be showcasing among these fills, the fae is still Workable and Gerald still has some of his Hunter traits; I’ll go into more detail on my headcanons surrounding that whole topic on a later day, when my head isn’t splitting open from a migraine, which it is currently giving its best shot at.

Day 3 - Theme Chosen: “Who did this to you?”

“Jen? What's wrong?”

Damien was no adept, but he didn't need to be. He knew something was wrong the moment he walked in the yard. On any other day, his adopted daughter would have been bolting out the front door the moment she heard him reining in his unhorse at the gate; her school let out an hour before he got home from work, and she was invariably waiting, bubbling over with stories about her day. Today, however, the yard had been empty except for the dozing form of their pet weiler, a massive brown-and-black beast named Marchosias that Gerald had picked out – and named – as a puppy two years ago. When Damien unlatched the gate, the dog lifted his blocky head and whuffed once, before rolling over and going back to sleep; reassured that nothing was too terribly awry, Damien had stabled his tired horse, then gone in search of his daughter.

He found her in the sitting room, curled up on the window bench with her homework spread in front of her. She was still wearing the sky blue blouse and ruffled indigo skirt she'd had on when he dropped her off at school that morning, but she'd taken her hair out of its thick braid and let it spill over her shoulders; bent forward over a heavy textbook in her lap, it hung like a curtain, partially shielding her face. Her legs were tucked up alongside her on the cushion, and the position of the door relative to the window meant that Damien was seeing her in profile, limned by the watery autumn sunlight outside. She only barely looked up at him, a sideways flash of her dark brown eyes before her gaze returned to the book in front of her, but her expression was calm and her voice steady when she replied.

“Nothing's wrong, Dad. I just had a long day at school.”

Damien frowned, leaning against the door frame for a moment. Jenseny still didn't look up at him, strangely avoidant; she seemed to only be focusing very hard on whatever she was reading, but the lack of a smile combined with her studiedly level demeanour made a hard knot of anxiety start to form in his gut. He waited a moment, picking his words carefully, before he spoke.

“If something's bothering you, Jen, I'd like to talk about it... but I understand if you don't want to, and you don't have to give me any details if you'd rather not. I'd prefer you to be honest with me, though, so I know it's not something serious.”

Halfway through turning a page, Jenseny's hand froze in midair. The knot in his belly tightening, Damien waited silently. After a moment, Jenseny let go of the page and allowed it to flutter back into place, dropping her hand to rest on her leg where it was tucked up beside her. Damien could see her gnawing on her lip, just a little, her internal war more than obvious; he held himself still, wanting desperately to cross the room and pull her into a hug, but resolved not to pressure her while she made her decision.

Then, hesitantly, she finally turned to face him. She swung her legs off the cushion to do so, sitting upright properly – and as the far side of her face came into view, Damien gasped.

“Jen.”

There was a large, misshapen bruise blooming over her left cheekbone, dark and damning against her warm ochre skin. The facade of calm finally cracked, and Jenseny's lower lip began to tremble, her eyes welling up with a glossy sheen of tears. His heart breaking, Damien was across the room in a few strides, sinking onto the window bench next to her and putting his arm around her; instantly, she sank into him, burying the uninjured side of her face against his shoulder as she muffled a sob. Damien smoothed a hand over her dark curls, the first sparks of fury warring with the sorrow coursing through him.

“Sweetheart, who did this to you?”

For a moment, Jenseny was quiet, though Damien could feel the damp heat of her tears soaking his shirt. When she started to speak, her words were soft and muffled.

“Some of the other kids in my class... don't like me because I'm an adept. They say I shouldn't be in Sheva, because the Forest makes people like me go crazy. The boys mostly just avoid me, and that's fine. I don't need them all to be my friends. Some of the girls, though...”

Of course. Damien felt those sparks of fury start to catch, growing and brightening in his chest. The prejudice of mankind knew no bounds, after all, and even living on a world where the planet's very lifeblood seemed determined to kill them hadn't changed that. He and Gerald had known, when they debated where they were going to live, that there were risks in every answer; Gerald was more than capable of Working a protection that would keep Jenseny shielded from any of the Forest's influence, he was its master after all, but any adept living so close to Jahanna's borders was bound to draw a curious eye or two. They had decided it was worth it, for the distance it afforded from the cities where the Church kept a closer watch, but they had recognized even then that it was far from a perfect solution.

Perhaps more surprising, that the first outright aggression had come from a girl – but it sounded as if it had been more than one, and maybe it wasn't that surprising after all, given how vicious teenage girls could be when emboldened by numbers.

“What did they do?” Damien murmured.

Jenseny pulled in a deep breath and straightened up, wiping at her wet eyes as she choked out the words.

“They cornered me after class. There were five of them – they're the most popular girls in class, they always hang out together. They were making fun of me, saying that I'm going to go crazy too, that I'll probably wind up jumping into the river like that poor man last year... but then, one of them said that I might take somebody else with me.” Jenseny paused for a moment, drawing in a shuddering breath. “The whole mood shifted, I could See them all getting angrier – and they were scared, too. I could feel it pouring off them, and I was so afraid, because it felt – it felt like it used to, in the cities, on the nights when they...”

She trailed off, unable or unwilling to complete the thought, but she didn't have to. Damien felt as if an iron band was squeezing his chest. He knew exactly what she was referring to; those horrific nights, on the Eastern Continent, when the governors of the cities had staked adepts outside in the forest to act as bait for demons. He could only imagine the atmosphere of mingled terror and bloodlust that must have accompanied that practice, and for Jenseny's classmates to be in that same state...

After a few steadying breaths, Jenseny went on. “One of them, the girl that always bosses the others around, said I should leave. That I need to get out of Sheva, and never come back, so I won't make any trouble for normal people.” She shut her eyes, pain flickering over her expression, and Damien felt the first true flames of fury igniting in his heart. “Then they were all shoving me, and one of them tripped me – I didn't see which one – and I hit my face on the side of the flowerbed when I fell.”

When she opened her eyes again, they shone with fresh tears. “I ran straight home, but I didn't – I didn't want to make you and Papa worry. I know it hasn't been easy adjusting to living here, especially for Papa, not having his books or his workrooms anymore... we're all just finally starting to settle in. I don't want us to have to move. I don't want you to be worried every time I'm at school, either. They were all so angry at me, though... I don't know if I can just go back and pretend nothing happened.”

Damien had to close his own eyes for a moment, overcome. God. She's been through so much, and still, her first thoughts are for others. Was I ever that selfless? If I was, I've forgotten what that felt like. Age and loss have made me selfish.

And then. Selfish enough to be willing to do almost anything, to protect my family.

Drawing in a deep breath, Damien opened his eyes and met his daughter's worried gaze steadily. “We're not going to have to move, Jen. And those girls aren't going to hurt you again. I need you to give me their names, though.”

Jenseny's eyes widened, and Damien wondered what she saw, as her eyes flickered over the air around him; he knew she was reading the currents, Seeing the reflection of his emotions in the fae. At last, she whispered the question he'd known was coming.

“What are you going to do?”

“They won't get hurt,” he said quietly, answering the question that she really meant but hadn't quite asked. “But they also won't ever hurt you again.”

Jenseny considered that for a moment. Then, quietly, she gave him the names of the five girls.

“Thank you.” Damien opened his arms for a hug that Jenseny gladly leaned into, then pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her curls. “Why don't you go call Marc in for dinner, and then you can help me make our famous family spaghetti, how does that sound?”

Jenseny's eyes lit up. “That sounds great!” she exclaimed, her natural cheer finally breaking through the melancholy that had gripped her. She kissed his cheek, then bounded off the window bench and headed out of the room. At the doorway, she paused with one hand on the frame and glanced back, her smile falling into something smaller, warmer, and profoundly meaningful.

“Thanks, Dad.”

Then she was gone, around the corner and out the front door, calling enthusiastically for Marchosias. Hearing the dog's booming bark in response, Damien smiled and closed his eyes, reaching for the link that lay between his own soul and his husband's. Currently quiescent, but always present, and only ever a thought away.

Gerald?

A moment later, he felt a warm thrum of acknowledgement, mixed with a thread of concern; Gerald's hours at the city's Historical Archives weren't much different from Damien's hours at the hospital, and it was rare for them to communicate through the link during the work day unless something fairly urgent had happened.

I'm just finishing my last lecture of the day. What's wrong?

Damien opened his eyes in time to see Marchosias go bounding by the sitting room door, an entirely too-large blur of black and brown fur skidding across the polished wood floor as his own enthusiasm exceeded the friction of his paws, Jenseny following after him in a burst of laughter. Damien smiled more widely, and directed another thought down the link.

Tonight, after dinner, we're going... out.

He felt a burst of surprise from his husband, shifting into anticipation and curiosity; Gerald's focus on the link grew, and Damien felt his husband's mind slide against his own, picking through his recent thoughts for an explanation. He offered up the memories of his conversation with their daughter, and felt a flicker of understanding and recognition.

I see. Yes. I couldn't agree more.

As the thoughts intertwined with his own grew dark and hungry, Damien stood and headed for the kitchen to start dinner. He and Gerald might still have their ideological differences, but there was one thing they agreed perfectly on.

No one was ever going to hurt their daughter. Not without answering to them.

#whumptober2021 #no.3 #Who Did This To You?#coldfire trilogy #fic #bullying #discrimination #evil is what you make of it #gerald tarrant #damien vryce #jenseny kierstaad #the neocount writes

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blankdblank · 3 years

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Durin Sitting Pt 6

Pt 1 - Pt 2 - Pt 3 - Pt 4 - Pt 5 -

So I got some questions about how this story would have gone so here’s the finished plotlines that I originally had to finish off this series. Hope you like it. :D

...

Things had never been better. And with three naked Durins inside the cage the elder Wolves eyed Fili, Kili and Ori in their dart from the cage that the confused Dis sat outside of with finger on the tape to the book you had been reading them and eyes fixed on her sons’ backs. Not since they were small boys did they miss a shift and not without additional stress and confusion to the week as they sat downstairs just in case they would shift again. Simply listening to the book while their mother sat down in the chair brought for her, refusing to leave them no matter how far along she may be with their baby siblings. She knew, their father and grandparents knew how terrifying the first missed change after lessons had gone.

While they were forced to shift once a month tips on Wolf mastering had been asked in each family outing and evenings in to fold you into the clan even more. Again methods seemed to vary from how the Elders had mastered their Wolves yet on your second time sitting for the Wolves a blackout from a storm had the cage opened and that was your opening. For the first time the scent of earth, grass and everything green and in between enveloped each of the Wolves who raced on frantic paws to soak in the wilds around them. Just hints of white fur on the ends of your tail were spotted through every swivel of their heads to sniff and search all they could.

For whatever they could have imagined their Wolves would do to wake up on their beds in an open cage to dirt on their bodies inside the clearly mopped basement to the fail of the cameras there were no answers to what happened. By scents alone ignoring the dirt they had all been outside and had they been in that form they could feel the urge to shift their tails in glee and bound around to the group flashes of memories of discoveries on the land. It was a start, and on the second night Thrain was there to watch the oddly content Wolves who continued to chatter on about all they would double check upon their next weather aided escape. Their Wolves were more than just calming and had grown excited rather than agitated and all of their lives around the nightly changes improved in the relief of it all.

Things had never been better. At least until three words were whispered tearily after the fifth public official outing amongst the clan had just barely begun, “Oh no, Mom.” For charity an auction was to be held in a lavish event hall in a notorious architectural marvel of a sky scraper and turned away to keep from weeping openly in public your body turned to face Thorin’s chest. Over your head his eyes locked with his father’s for a silent agreement and back he stepped with arm around your back.

Lowly he hummed post press of a kiss to your temple, “Let’s get you back to bed.” Just in and now out again back to the hotel suite for the both of you that Thorin had called ahead to have food delivered and in the back of the car he kept you close to his side humming, “Adad will ensure we bring her home for you.” The quiet continuous tears from you was his only marker that you were still lost in the painful discovery and sea of memories with the woman killed for sport and draped on the wall for praise to the ego of the hunter and owner of her pelt.

Not until you got to the bed and there was no one else in ear shot did you speak the most painful words he’d expected to never hear you say, “When we get home I need you to leave me alone.”

To a knee at your feet he collapsed with hands that cradled yours on your lap with tearful eyes locked on yours, “Please let me help you with this. Don’t push me away. Don’t abandon us out of pain.”

The next tear down your cheek that fell to his hand drew his gaze that snapped up again to your saying, “You don’t understand.”

“Explain it to me.”

“I, can’t,” you managed to crack out in the scrunch of your face, “There are rights. You can’t be there. None of you.”

His lips parted in a sliver of relief that you weren’t ending your relationship with him, “How long do you need?”

Another set of tears fell as you squeaked back, “Three weeks.”

He wet his lips and inched closer to your lower legs asking, “And that is no contact? Or can I call or text you?”

“It has to be complete silence outside of my clan.”

“But,” he shook his head and said as empathetically as possible, “I know clan laws are strict, but you would be alone, for three weeks to face this.”

Softly you sniffled and said, “My uncle messaged, he will be home when I get back.”

“That is good,” he sighed out and lifted your hands to press your curled fingers to his lips in the drop of more tears.

Squeaks crackled in your voice through saying, “I ruined your evening.”

Again he shook his head, “You ruined nothing. Adad will handle the evening without me easily. Would a bath help?” Dinner, a long soak in his arms came before the tuck of you into bed to sleep in his arms while he laid awake in turmoil for the forced three week break and over your head he watched Dwalin ease the door open to peek inside.

Hushedly he shared that the pelt was purchased and the purchase card with information on it with who the hunter was along with the former owner, carefully it was being loaded up to be shipped to your address and then slipped out again with a pained glance to your blotchy tearstained face rested on Thorin’s shoulder. He would hold you as long as possible and keep a hand on your leg all through the breakfast that a weak smile of a mask was held to not spoil the full mood of the trip. One toast from the clan and again you were held, this time by several of the clan who shared they would be with you in this however required and long after when you were granted time to be with them again.

Three weeks. At the masked gates the car stopped to your warning while the enchantment on your land had again barred visitors with no view of your home at all in its own mirage enforced wall of open fields swaying on the breeze. Regrettably a warm lingering goodbye kiss was trailed by a tight embrace. Deeply Thorin inhaled to fight a sniffle to keep you from crying again and his hands left your hips on a mission of their own. From around his neck the chain with a pair of rings he had recently begun to wear was removed and eased over your head and underneath your curls. “I want you to borrow this.”

Wide and full of tears your eyes met his in a pained but curious silent plea of what they meant to the loss of your voice. Lowly he rumbled as he drew your long braid from under the chain, “I can’t explain these yet. But I’m here.” He said with a gentle press on the rings now seated above your heart. “Until I can hold you again, I’m here.” You nodded and simply closed your eyes to lean into his chest for a final hug before bags were lifted and between two colorful soap rainbows of curtains the gate and house was viewed then vanished again from sight. Against the car you saw him in a stare laced in tears imagining that he could watch your walk up to the door until you were safe inside.

He didn’t see the bags drop however or your run and crash into the chest and arms of your uncle beyond at ease to have you with him again. Time did not help, distance did not make the heart grow fonder it made them burn and bleed and post crack of the nailed lid to the crate being opened as you should onto the floor you fell, fingers clutched into the fur now woven around your body in a decades ached for mock embrace from the woman who carried you. Tears and pain. Three weeks of sacred rights were to be carried out and the glimmering tears melted into the pelt that a wind coursed through rippling its fur and gave life to its shape to melt around the cosmic cloud of a polar bear that in its own glee folded around your now curled body lost to a fit of tears.

She could not be here in her other shape but as a bear you were granted time and by sun and moonlight this was how you could say goodbye. Until the final week. Until the blood and the bonfire. Mud, pots of it, to sacred words that made the earth tremble to the sinister glow from the bare skin on yourself and uncle. Blood had been shed and now payment was due, mud once brown ran blood red in each cakey slide of hands to coat your torso’s and arms in sacred runes, symbols and streaks to the polar bear’s roars now joined by those of your animal shaped ancestors. Deep into the earth the curse spread like roots of an unseen tree aimed direct for the skyscraper and dozens of mansions in a country far away. Sharp and sudden the pelt was torn from your mother’s cosmic form and in the eruption of flames it was gone to seal the curse of vengeance and justice to the instant drop of all the mud from your flesh that left you naked and cold with eyes still locked on hers in the few moments you had left until she was called away. Just a tap of foreheads and three tears and she was gone again.

Across the table to a silent break for tea your uncle smirked in notice of the rings on the chain now rested on the table from around your neck those rights had forbidden speech outside of the sacred words or those to your mother’s soul until she had passed on. “Who gifted you those markers?”

Up your eyes snapped to his with another tear that fell down to your newly added baggy shirt that you had taken from Thorin’s bag on the way back from your last trip that pooled on top of your crossed legs. “The necklace is Thorin’s. He couldn’t come or speak to me so he said I could borrow it.”

His smirk deepened, “He must love you very deeply to have been wearing clan markers.”

That had your eyes drop in a lift of the rings that since his wearing them always seemed blurry and hard for your eyes to bring to focus to know what markers your fingers felt in slides across them. “Is that what they are? I can’t see what’s on them. Pesky eyes won’t focus on them.”

Lowly he chuckled and said, “No, Wolves are very careful in their tokens for Mates.”

“Wol-,” in a look up you gasped in a sudden realization. The distance between the Wolves and the Durins and why the clan was never around when you were required to sit for the pack. “They’re Wolves! That, how did I not see that?! Right in front of my face down to the pack using their own names.”

He chuckled again, “Do they? When I trained Thrain and his daughter to master their Wolves they both chose different names in their Wolf form. How have you been bonding to yours? I am far more intimidating you must be making ample progress at your size.”

“I’ve been reading to them. They have a cage they lock them in at night.”

That had him huff, “I told them not to keep the cage. Old habits I suppose. Good choice something morbid or depressing to hone their focus for hidden meanings I would presume. Have you taken them out yet?”

“Once. Power went out. We’ve gotten a good but through Little Dorritt.”

“Lovely choice. And that run should have worked wonders.”

“They seemed pleased, beyond pleased really like they’d never seen the woods before.”

“Can’t imagine they would have. Wolf clans are quite protective of their young and don’t wish to harm anyone or risk a chance to.”

“No way to live.” You said in another glance to the rings on the chain you now knew were his way to build up the courage or rights to ask you to become a member of his clan. To change the subject from a heart racing topic of such a serious step with the stunningly adoring man that you’d yet to trade firm loving sentiments with yet you asked about the torn patch of earth beside the cottage you’d noticed since your return home. “What happened to that torn patch? That is not part of the rights.”

“No,” he said with a clear of his throat to your glance at the new burned in trail of stars that sat between your index finger and thumb on the back of your hand to match the diamond trail along the arch of your right foot from your father’s funeral rights. “I tore up the foundations for your new cottage.”

“Oh, you want me to move...” escaped your lips in a pained murmur that brought his equally star scarred hand to fold over yours rested on the table.

“No, I don’t. This home will become rather crowded soon enough.”

“Because of Thorin?”

Again he chuckled and answered, “My friend Luna agreed to be my surrogate decades past,” you nodded, “And since her Mate passed last season she has reached her last heat and agreed it was time to aid in my cubs. We will have twin cubs by next spring.”

“Oh that’s such good news!” You replied with a wide smile that spread his.

“So you will be requiring your own home seeing as the Wolf has made himself at hone by the scent of things. You may bear more of the clientele while I mind the cubs. And mine will grant you ample practice for when your own cubs arrive.”

“We are too soon for cubs.” You retaliated only deepening his grin.

“Three weeks without his Mate and that may change drastically. I have cleared some trees we can begin on the cottage in the morning. Have the whole thing completed by month’s end.”

The week came in handy and tucked in the back of the barn you smirked at the hoard of supplies he had been gathering on his travels just for this. Animals all in joint efforts to a common goal and the porch and exterior of the home were built up. A plumber had been arranged for the following week along with a group of friends who would lay the tile and carpet where it was wanted as in your sleepless nights doors and shutters for the windows were carved by you to Beorn’s glass blowing hut being lit up to make all the door handles you could ever make use of.

12:01 am : Off to the zoo today but I hope your day goes well. :)

Wide eyed the beyond pissed boyfriend of yours who had been experiencing rage fueled shifts after each half day at work that had him on his back inside the cage turned his head to the lit up phone laid just on the other side of the bars. Right away he popped up to your ring tone and rushed to a knee on the ground to snatch the device up and plop back with a creeping grin to your first contact. Onto his lap he dropped the phone to run his hands over his face and through his hair. Every muscle in the hunch flexed and stretched to a joint release of pressure of all had been kept inside for weeks now where his Mate was suffering and outside of his aid as he had not built up the nerve to secure your bond as one of his clan. A move that would have joined him into your clan as well had you accepted. A move he couldn’t force to simply hold you while you mourned.

Self loathing for the lack of that step and internal lashes to his mental self had backed his Wolf into a corner and to the slightest trouble at work had him nearly tearing out into full fury mode with fangs tail and all for everyone to see until his clan had calmed him down. So half days were mandatory and in his own funk he had banished himself to sleep down here in the cage. Where he belonged, without you he was just an animal, a furious heartbroken animal who simply wanted his Mate, his true love there were so very many signs that he could very well die if the fates destined you to part.

Head back up he inhaled and got to typing, “How are you?”

“I think I broke my toe.” That had him pause a moment as for the puzzling response until you added, “I walked into the tile stack.”

“Tile stack?” He muttered and typed in a try to recall what you could be referencing in that house.

“My uncle and I have begun to build me my own cottage. Plumbers come today.”

“Why do you want your own cottage?” He asked with a twinge of hope in his chest it could be for privacy for the both of you or a possible dwelling for the both of you he might be invited to move into one day should he live up to any test you grant him.

“My uncle found a surrogate he will have twins by next spring. Wished for me to have my own space as to not be crowded out of the cottage.” Vague, but a possible hint to a logical invitation that and the former grump grinning at his phone. “How are you?”

Sore, broken, hollow, left with a crater right where you would fit in his arms and heart on top of the obvious rage that threatened to roast him from the inside out had he not heard from you. “I’m in the cage” he sent then added, “without you.”

“I never meant to hurt you,” you responded now knowing how deeply you had effected the love of your life clearly in a struggle against the control of his Wolf, now tougher than ever in the week of the full moon.

“I don’t blame you. Adad has been hounding me to gain control for decades now and I have been digging my heels in refusals.” He paused then asked, “How are you? When do you get off work?”

“Headed in about ten minutes. Be back by noon. They need a night feeder for an expecting Wolf.”

“Can I come for lunch? Adad has me on half days.”

“The walls will be dropped when you arrive.” That had him smile and wish you well today and turn to curl up on his cot to get some sleep still clutching his link to you to do so just in case you changed your mind and wished to talk more so he wouldn’t miss a moment.

‘More on the devastating phenomena that has wiped what was imagined to be an endless family that reached back to the beginnings of Middle Earth off the map after this break.’ Impenetrable roots had torn through hundreds of homes and had brought a sky scraper to the ground with every living member of a historic clan being taken with them in the apparent sinkholes that ate every ounce of their homes and those inside except for innocent guests who were able to scramble out of the dirt to safety from other lines. None of them had the answer, save for one elderly Man, the keeper of records of Gondor and aid to their King Arathorn who spoke the words none dared to admit, ‘This was not the first time those who are known to cross the Ruun and their kin have been erased and eaten by the earth.’

Nonsense, no one had the strength or stomach to say that as the world of Men reeled in reminder of old magic that had since been shielded from them and lurked in every shadow, under every bed and inside every fable they adored and absorbed since childhood. This has happened before and had never been explained beyond the same symbol on a rock to be found in the center of every memorial site left unbuildable after each devastating attack.

A rock with a single drop of a blood red something in the center of it and nothing else. A warning. That all those clans with known hunters of great beasts had been wiped out of existence. They may not believe in Fairies or that Vampires or even Trolls and Goblins existed yet while they dressed as werewolves and skin changers for annual festivals no one dared to try and impersonate or search out the Ruun. Not a one. They were not to be questioned or harmed or there would be devastation to pay. The Men as usual would face a break of caution and then be back to their careless ways in no time. While each magical being laid their respects and under the light of the first moon since the attack filled baskets to lit lantern boats they set loose loaded with fireflies and small carved tokens that now was littered on ribbons strung throughout your flowering tree branches all through your property to light your nightly work in the sea of fireflies admiring their new home. Tokens not for those killed on the collapses but for the unknown Guardian they all mourned the precious soul taken without reason by such cruel beings they were forced to live amongst.

“Morning,” Thorin said in taking his seat at the table that turned everyone’s head to his pleasant mood.

Vili, “Well don’t you seem downright chipper. Who are you and why are you wearing Thorin?” Answered by a sharp exhale by his brother in law in taking a piece of toast.

Dis, “Especially after you almost bit me yesterday when I tried to give you lunch through the bars.”

Thorin gave her a playful glare in return for hers proving he was miles beyond where he had sunken to without his Mate. “What you get for putting your fingers inside a cage with a wild animal.” He accented with a fake snap of his teeth at her across the table that had her roll her eyes.

Dwalin, “Spill.”

Thorin grinned saying, “Jaqi texted me just after midnight.”

Thrain, “Oh how is the dear one?”

Thorin lowered his mug of coffee from a sip and answered, “Good it would appear. Though possibly with a broken toe. Her and her uncle have been building her a second cottage on their land it would appear. He has obtained a surrogate and conceived twins.”

“And?” Everyone asked at the same time deepening his grin.

“There seemed to be a hint of an invitation in the future.”

Thrain, “Well that is simply marvelous. I am proud for you son. When are you seeing her?”

“Today,” he sighed out, “She accepted a night feeder spot and was off to work shortly after we spoke but will be home by noon and accepted my request to drop by.”

Fili and Kili asked, “Are you going to propose?”

Glares were sent their way and Kili pointed to him saying, “Hey! He’s been looking like death for days now! He needs to get hitched before his fur falls out and he’ll be left to gumming the wedding cake when he finally gets around to it.”

Thorin rolled his eyes and said, “I will offer my marker, just offer, give her time to consider all that entails. Even though she may be building this matter in clans is delicate at the time.”

“She loves you how could she refuse?” Fili said in another slice of his food.

To himself Thorin chuckled and murmured, “She’s told me in so many silent ways. Still, patience.”

Fiery and passionate was how he wanted to greet you when he entered your cottage porch. How did he find you instead? In the kitchen while he stood face to face with a massive naked man freshly turned from his bear form with free hand clutching the kilt that once their handshake was through was tied on around his waist to make the newly arrived guest welcome. Into the couch he settled across from your uncle and the pair of them spoke in what grew to be a friendly banter upon the mention of Thorin’s awe for the hives, blooms and orchard.

Pie in hand to the couch you moved and against Thorin’s side sunk in a sideways lean sharing the dessert by use of the spare fork on the plate. All the while his other arm kept you against his side with pure joy in his heart to your every nestle and nuzzle closer. Plumbers however took your now furrow browed uncle from his chair in their arrival down the driveway. “Enjoy your rest little one, I will wrangle this task into shape.”

Soon as the door between you closed Thorin tilted his head down to ask you, “Are you sore still? Your foot?”

“Not broken. Just bruised.”

“Not what I asked.” He said with a reach for your curled legs to lay them over his lap. “I’ll rub your legs and feet. Extra careful on the toes.”

“Are you okay?” You asked in his next glance your way when he’d taken hold of one of your feet.

With a nod he replied in a sweet smile your way, “I am with you, how could I not be?”

You didn’t have and answer and simply turned your head to look around the house while his gaze was focused on your legs and feet to avoid the numerous olive bruises lingering from your hard work on the cottage. Up to your knees his hands moved along with his body that inched closer to not cause pain by pulling you closer instead. Out of the small bundle of flowers you’d pulled from the window that Tuki had kept flying into and nearly ended up knocking into your breakfast a single purple and yellow daylily was lifted. Right behind his ear a sliver of his brushed back hair that a grin eased across his lips at the braid you worked there to hold the flower behind his ear.

“You know I love you right?” You asked a hair above a whisper.

Instantly his eyes lifted and in a smooth move he turned your legs off his lap to twist and slide you onto his lap mid loving kiss to relax back into the back of the couch. Warmly his hand cupped your cheek to linger there until its dip to trail along your neck to the slide of your hands up his chest and onto his shoulders. Around the back of your neck underneath your hair his fingers found the chain clasp there he unhooked and caught it with his other hand in its drop to your lap. The moment his lips left yours tenderly his nose stroked yours on both sides between gentle taps of his forehead to yours. “So very much so, my darling love.” For a blurry check your eyes opened to his multicolored blob of a face with glimmers of stunning blue from his own timid check.

Again his hand moved to cup that same cheek in his shift back to get a clear view so he could say, “The moon pales in comparison to the beauty of your soul. From the moment I first saw you I knew we were kindred souls and destined to be one, or had dared to dream such heavenly things as a love such as yours. Even the words don’t seem enough, I love you in such a deeper feeling than love. These past three weeks, burned, to not be there for you. And I understand, I do. I wished to say it then. Merely I didn’t wish to add stress to the moment.”

“How could you stress me? Doesn’t sound possible at all.”

That had him smirk and circle his fingers around the rings in his palm to find yours he brought forward. “I wished, for so long, to share my feelings and intensions. My clan has strict rights of their own and I would wish to offer you myself. And this, if you aren’t familiar with our laws is not a proposal of marriage, this is so very much more. A joining of clans, I will be yours and you mine, we will be whole in and out of our clans a part of the both of them.” Hastily he wet his lips, “And there will be another proposal later, but this is a devotion of our beings.” Into your palm on the hand he eased down from his shoulder he pressed the ring into your palm he folded around it. “I am offering you myself. And please take time, as much as you need. And when you are ready you place it on your index finger. As much time as you need.”

Down your eyes sank to the ring now focused and clear. The edges wavy around the knot bodies ended at wolf heads aimed at one another mid howl etched into the mithril band with each gap filled in by shimmering emeralds and small onyx stones to fill the swooped lines around the face to fill in the eyes, cheeks and ears. “It’s beautiful. Must have been expensive.”

Lowly he chuckled and said, “We are all gifted upon adulthood the rings for our Mates. It is yours, always has been.” Again you looked at the ring and simply slipped it on your finger that won you a warm kiss the both of you lingered in until the cuddled embrace with his forehead pressed to yours. Lost for words the now beaming puddle of hearts could only let out a breathy chuckle to your blind addition of his ring to his finger behind your back.

(Just imagine the gaps in the design have gems not metal.)

Two days later, the Durins had insisted you take another couple weeks off to ensure you were settled again as per the usual bereavement leave their company. The absence held the technical label that had those in the lower levels with access to trigger the fetching of a card that was handed around to be signed along with a fruit and chocolate arrangement. The zoo however treasured your situation at home and used it to their advantage and that of their latest rescue, a silver fox pup that had to be kept separate from the others due to its overly playful nature and size twice of the barely weaned litter that had arrived inside their mother the month before it had. The fox had been dropped off and was pleased to have bunnies and puppies and the hounds to play with safely in your haven of a property.

Evening however came to a cusp and while Beorn was a town over to confirm the order of tubs he had chosen from a craftsman he was good friends with who made them by hand to sit perfectly inside the raised platform around the tub to give you that sunken feel you loved without burying it in the ground as the house was on a solid stone platform that joined with Beorn’s. All greatly expanding the bunny haven that was underneath your home. Sinks had already been made and delivered long ago and the craftsman was pleased to repay the clan that had kept his baby girls safe with charms and pheromone diluting tonics for decades now and had handed over the first for his young grandchild to continue the important friendship.

A third stroll through your floored, piped and wired home you imagined the walls being plastered and smoothed into the mix of mint and indigo shades around the peach kitchen with each room settled to utilize the sunlight and views around your home with the pantries settled in the dead on view of Beorn’s cottage to keep from spoiling someone of any views of your heaven. While his was a single floor yours was two stories to grant you a higher view in all directions from the undecided rooms on that floor with a wrap around balcony that gave you tons of arches and pillars for more climbing flowers and vines to make their way up to the turf roof to help insulate the place no matter the weather. Already like his home you could picture the shaggy grasses and vines that from certain angles vanished into the scenery like your own tiny Hobbit Holes to form a hill of its own and it made you proud to have helped raise it up yourself.

Chimneys lit up to welcome the sunset would just finish it off right for the first night in and to another stroke of your finger across the ring from Thorin obviously a sunken armchair matching yours would be settled with him in it. But that was a discussion far off even with the ring. Taking trips and sleep overs were one thing but to move in together and to be honest you’ve been anxious to have the place to yourself to break it in and warm it up to visitors.

A phone call split into your daydream and from your palm against the bicep on the opposite arm your hold broke with a grin to the expected contact from Thorin surely freshly returned home after a busy meeting across town. “Hey handsome, meeting go well?”

“You said you could handle the Wolves without a cage right? Were you joking?” The stress in his voice evident and parted your lips.

“No, I was serious. What’s happened?” You asked shifting weight from one foot to another.

“We got stuck in traffic and the moon’s rising soon and it wants out, I need your help.”

“Alright, do you need me to come over?”

“No, we’re nearly at your house.”

“I’ll see you when you get here.” From your empty cottage to your uncles you strolled with phone hung up to make yourself some tea. “Nearly,” you sighed, “How far away is nearly?”

The wolf whistle from Tuki outside alerted you to the cars that had come down the driveway. Three sips was all you had gotten and you set the mug down to head to the door that once opened revealed Thorin in the front of the line of young Durins who strolled in at your step aside. “Are we alone?” Thorin asked in the tug on his tie to begin the process of stripping naked.

“My uncle’s at a craftsman for my tubs. Just me and the fox pup the zoo asked me to watch for them.”

Outside the sky had darkened entirely with hints of the soon to rise moon and from that you turned back to the now nearly naked bunch that had organized their layers on top of the coffee table with shoes tucked underneath it. “I am sorry. I wouldn’t do this unless it was absolutely necessary. You can control it, you are certain?” Thorin asked with eyes fixed on yours in a pained plea and hope that you were being truthful and he wouldn’t end up attacking you by mistake and sealing you to painful shifts out of your usual form that like other shifters who had been mauled were unable to ever turn to their natural form again and often were disowned and cast out to be adopted by their attackers for decades of repairing the damage to make them feel welcome and secure in their new reality.

He didn’t let you answer and didn’t have much of a choice to the jaw dropping split of his collarbone. Tightly you clenched your lips and up your fingers curled against your lips withholding your urge to cry in the painful ripple of bones and muscles adjusting underneath the layers of fur that grew over the bodies of the silver eyed Wolves that all looked you over. In their midst the young brothers who stood with hands over their groins and sheepish glances your way, Fili broke the silence by saying, “This makes three moons now.”

“You haven’t changed in three moons?” You asked and he shook his head, “Well that’s a plus.”

Kili said, “To an extent. Still, I guess we can get dressed if you like. Don’t want to over run you.”

That had you smirk and say, “If you would like to shift on your own you are welcome to. You’re quite docile even if you don’t believe it.”

The pair glanced at one another and drew in deep breaths with eyes that shut in a means to shift on their own only to flinch at your move closer with hands raised to cup a side of their necks to guide their heads straighter. A few subtle tips and the brothers both melted into their other forms, one with bright blue eyes ringed in silver and the other with hazel ringed in silver for a stunning first where the duo were fully in-tune with their Wolves. “Not bad for your first try,” you said to the pair who eyed their silver eyed relatives who once they had circled you to sniff then begin a search through the house to inspect your dwelling.

Another sip of tea was necessary and a few later Thorin had found you with a curious once over and rise up a bit on his back feet to sniff the cup you had drank from. Dwalin, Ori and Nori were next to lift up and sniff the mug settled onto the counter to Thorin asking, “Where is the bear?”

“My uncle is at a friend’s house.”

“Hmm,” Nori said in a turn of his head.

Ori asked, “What is that smell?” Inching closer to the half door with the top folded back granting a view to the yard.

“Well that’s a bit of a loaded question, we have bee hives and an orchard and gardens and even more animals in the forest and a stream with fish that I can catch for your supper.”

Dwalin, “We are free to run here?”

“If you like. Just don’t eat anything but the fish if you can help it.” You said in the turn of the knob in your hand to open the door for the pack.

Thorin however did not move and asked with a puff of his chest clearly showing off the ring he’d removed to set on the chain still around his neck that he refused to remove. “Will you be running with us again?” He asked gruffly in a foot shifting request with eyes fully on you as if the Wolf was willing to beg if necessary.

“Sure. I can show you around.” To the living room you strolled and added your things to theirs until you reached your ring and Thorin’s eyes from over the back of the couch with a ring of blue in the center of the silver drew attention right away and had you turn to fetch a spare bit of ribbon you made a necklace that the ring was hung around your neck. The sight alone of the ring there even in your change had his tail wag in a deep knowing that the pair of you were bound. Around the couch to his side you trotted and joined on the path to the now parted Wolves who giddily got to exploring on each pathway in the new lands. Miles of new things and a stop to fish where Fili kept hold of your necklace to ensure it wouldn’t be lost you dove to catch and toss the fish up onto shore until each Wolf had their own pair of fish they carried back once you wiggled the necklace on again post drying shake.

Once home on the deck by the grill you lit up, shifted back in the apron hung by the door each fish was cleaned and deboned for the Wolves that ate every bit of the meat and organs you warmed up for them in the process of burning the scales, bones and heads. Against his try to nudge one of his fish your way Thorin huffed and ate the offering only once he saw that once you’d gone inside a dinner of your own was fixed up to be eaten in their joint plop on the ground around you to his place seated, chin on the table to speak with you. From apron to the discarded clothes again you changed and closed the doors eventually freshening up to climb onto your bed the pack joined you on. Sunrise soon enough came and to grumbled the Durins’ set alarms on their phones awakening naked in bed, except for Ori, Fili and Kili still in Wolf form who in the groggy squints of their relatives through a stubborn huff at your body’s try to remain asleep.

Torn between not waking you with hands on your hip and back from the doorway Beorn’s voice turned their heads to the Wolf trapped trio in their waking stretches on top of their sections of the bed. “Morning, I have breakfast ready you must be hungry.” In a glance over the trio that bounded off the bed and trotted closer to him he crouched saying, “Ah, look at you halfway to control already.” Hushedly in a rumble he gave them tips and the trio were soon on a stroll to the living room. Up he stood and smirked in his turn to leave Thorin for a few more moments of cuddles.

Nice and sweet on your cheek he pressed his lips and hummed, “Stay in bed my love. I will come by later.” Again he kissed your cheek in his ease off the bed afterwards he turned to ensure your contently purring self was covered up once again without his body to warm you in his absence.

Beorn in the kitchen once again dressed Thorin joined them with ring slid on his finger to complete his full look and flashed him a quick grin. “We got stuck in traffic.”

Beorn shook his head, “No explanation necessary. You are always welcome. Little One’s efforts are certainly paying off with the young ones in your pack. And do not let that dampen your moods where efforts are concerned each Wolf has their own stride.”

Ori asked, “All she had done was sit with us and read, how is this possible?”

Kili, “And that run, we ran once before last night.”

Beorn chuckled answering, “Trust. Trust in her, yourselves and your Wolf. Methods vary, and freedom upon occasion can work wonders. Explore new surroundings outside of a cage and the Wolves grow stronger and you with them.”

Dwalin, “So, if cubs were raised out of a cage then by adulthood,”

Beorn shook his head, “Cubs are different. Teens and older only or they won’t understand the complexities of it all.”

Soon enough they were off to work and had shared what Ori, Fili and Kili had shared on what had occurred in the night. Baby steps had been taken of control where their Wolves had been growing stronger and bolder by the month. This generation would be stronger and more certain of themselves and their own magnificent prowess. Yet Thorin for all his admirable pride sat timidly and walked as if on eggshells with daily checks on your new home that was now being plastered and soon to be painted led up to a weekend of furniture shopping. Baby steps would complete your home and get him one step closer to the question that would require his grandmother’s ring his parents had gladly given him just for that purpose.

All the same he smiled to the internal reminder from his Wolf of the sight of your Tiger form with paired rings hung around your necks. Together you would build a future that one day would be shared, one day with adorable children of your own with question of what sort of animal forms they could hold. Questions, plans and daydreams all started with an offer for lunch. Down the driveway he drove with a bag of food and some wine with smile spreading to the sight of you in shorts and t shirt splattered with stains from plaster and stains for the molding. A wide smile spread across your face just warming his heart instantly to the dance of stray curls that swayed across your face on the breeze. Once parked out he climbed just basking in the scents of the honey hives and orchards with distant echoes of the future, the first fire you would light here that he would love to cuddle up with you to enjoy, evenings in, late sunlit mornings, and the giggles and footfalls of children to come.

All –

@himoverflowers, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator, @thegreyberet, @patanghill17, @jesgisborne, @curvestrology, @alishlieb, @jogregor, @armitageadoration, @fizzyxcustard, @lilith15000, @marvels-ghost, @catthefearless, @imjusthereforthereads, @c-s-stars, @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore, @mariannetora, @shes-a-killer-kween, @ggbbhehe4455, @xxbyimm

Hobbit/LotR – @abiwim, @jotink78, @pastelhexmaniac

x Thorin – @evyiione, @deepestfirefun, @queenoferebor

#Thorin x Reader OC #Werewolf AU #Hobbit #lotr #skinchangers #Finishing off a WIP

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damn-stark · 4 years

Text

Snips

Chapter 3 of Dark Temptations

A/N- I really love how this chapter turned out! I’m so excited to continue this series!! I really am loving how it’s turning out :) hope you all like it too! :) also you can’t tell me Luke wouldn’t be the softest dad. Because he would! Let me know what you thought?!

Warning- swearing, angst, slow burn, long chapter, slight violence

Pairing- Dark!Poe x Skywalker!reader

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

————

“Hey, Snips.”

A smile grows on your lips at the sound of the soft and familiar voice greeting you, at the incredibly strong and positive force that surrounded you, vibrating off like calm waves from one single person.

Your eyes drifted up to see her striped montrals come to view first, before you sat up and took in her whole ghostly being. Noticing the same, familiar warm grin plastered on her gentle and orange features. Showing that even if she was a ghost, that one could look so lively. Glowing with a happiness that was yet to be matched by any living person. While her eyes shone a brighter and deeper blue than that blue hue that permanently surrounded her whole being.

Your grin widened and you instantly matched her soft and excited tone; “Hey, Master Tano.”

“Sunbathing?” She queried.

You sigh and fall back on the grass, “more like waiting. Patiently. Very patiently.”

“The new Padawan not here yet?” Master Tano—Ahsoka, asked—her name was still hard to get used to. Even if it has been years since she’s been correcting you, almost begging you to call her Ahsoka. Saying that your relationship was that much more than one of a Padawan and Master. “We’re friends. Best friends.” She would say. “No need for formalities.” She was right of course, but it was formalities that were permanently engraved in your mind.

Thanks dad.

You shake your head and from the corner of your eye watch as Ahsoka leans back, resting her hands by her sides on the grass. Looking as if she was and could take in the warmth of the sun on her face, her eyes on the sky, but her attention solely on you as you continued speaking. “No, she’s late.”

“She’ll show. Just got to be patient.” She chuckles, “more patient.”

You scoff, “Hmm, aren’t you supposed to be busy doing...I don’t know ghost stuff? Y’know instead of stalking me?”

Ahsoka giggles and snaps back with equal the attitude, “aren’t you supposed to be training?”

You chuckle and sit up to fully face her and quip. “I have a schedule, remember?” Ahsoka meets your gaze and the white marking on her right eyebrow bone lifts, shooting you curious look; “early morning, get up, get ready for the day, meditate, then join dad, Jacen and Ben for breakfast with the other Padawans. After that chores, then annoy Jacen. Not done yet, because this Padawan was supposed to come, so, that’s still on hold. But after that it’s talk with my favorite Jedi Master. Check.”

Ahsoka grins, “right on.” She then meets your fist to share a light fist bump at your comment.

You continue, “then more chores. Training with you or dad. Lastly annoy Ben before going to sleep and ending my day.”

“For such a busy person,” Ahsoka teases, “you’re surely doing a whole lot of nothing.”

“Ha. Ha. Funny.”

Ahsoka shrugs nonchalantly, “I know. Must be a Skywalker shared thought. Your grandfather thought I was funny too.”

You shake your head and smirk, “I’m sure he did.” Before you could add something else, the sound of a motor catches your attention, making you jump to your feet and look past the jungle trees, blocking the sun from your eyes with your hand to get a better view at the approaching speeder and who was riding it.

“You think that’s the Padawan?” Ahsoka questioned as she stood up to watch the same thing.

You shrug, “I don’t know…” you trail off, catching sight of what appeared to be a man. His face became more distinguishable the closer he got. A head of dark curls visible first before the sun hit and made clear of the tan face he carried. “Nope. Not the Padawan.” You interjected at the discovery of the seemingly young man on the speeder heading your way.

“Well, we'll talk later, okay? So you can tell me all about the cute visitor.” Ahsoka added with a final smile, her face and body fading away until there was nothing but the view of your father's jedi temple and the young man now a couple feet in front of you.

He gets off his parked speeder bike and his eyes fall on you before they begin to search for something behind you.

“Hello.” You greet with a warm grin, pulling the guys brown eyes back to you with an added smile on his lips.

“Uh, hi.”

You clasp your hands in front of you and search his face for a moment. Coming to a full conclusion that this was not your wanted Padawan; “since you don’t seem to be the Padawan I’m waiting for, I’m going on a whim here to say you’re here for Jacen?”

The young man's eyes widen in recognition at the sound of the name. “Yeah actually, he said he was going to be here.”

You scoff and shake your head, “oh well, of course he’s not here.” You look over your shoulder to see if your brother was anywhere in sight, but alas and to no surprise he wasn’t. “He’s probably busy. And I emphasize the word busy, sucking faces with his girlfriend or smoking. Sorry. You’re welcome to wait or I can go search for him if you want.”

The young man chuckles. A laugh that was meant whole heartedly and not feigned, his shoulders shaking as he did something so simple—“I’m fine. I think I’m in perfect company until he comes.”

You feel a heat crawl on your cheeks, suddenly being overwhelmed by the flustering state he put you in. A first, and a action not done by anyone before..until now; “Oh, well,” you smile and fumble to find any more words without making them sound like gibberish. He was a couple years older than you, you needed to remember that. Being your brother's friend and all. But when the sun caught and brightened the charming grin on his lips; one that showed how perfectly white his teeth were, how his eyes showed the same amount of happiness and glow you couldn’t help but grow more flustered.

What the hell was wrong? This is not you. Pfft.

Seeing your current state, he leaned his body on his speeder and proceeded to introduce himself with the same smile. “I’m Poe. Poe Dameron.”

You twist your Padawan braid between the pad of your index and thumb finger and smile shyly. “I’m y/n Skywalker. Jacen’s sister.”

“Oh, yeah he’s told me about you,” he points, “his as he says and I quote, “my annoying little sister.”

You scoff again, “Well I never said he was my favorite so. Whatever.” You sigh, “anyway if you want I can take you to him, or I can take you to the mess hall while you wait. I made food that hasn’t gotten touched, it would be a shame to throw it away. If you’re hungry that is.” But maybe it’s because you had no friends to eat your food. Your father wasn’t here and Jacen and Ben were somewhere around, the only friends you did have couldn’t eat because they were ghosts of past Jedi. Maybe it’s time to make friends with living people...but then again, they aren’t fun as the ghosts you hang out with. So, it’s better they way you are.

Poe shrugs, “sure I’m up for it.”

You grin and turn to guide him towards the hall, but when you try, the one and only, Jacen, appears a couple feet away with Ben Solo in tow. Looking like a matching set next to one another. One is never far from the other, like twins almost. Only they weren’t that. Looking as always, or at least Jacen all high mighty like he ruled this temple and those in it. Stuck up silly boy. Not at all how Ahsoka described your grandfather or grandmother to be. Sure they had flair to their step, being who they were, but Jacen over passed flair and went straight to stuck up, spoiled daddy’s boy. At least Ben wasn’t that way, even if he was considered a Prince; he was like his mother in that way, sweet and more genuine. Even if Jacen did get to him at times.

Anyhow, disregarding your cousin and brother's demeanor's, you let out an annoyed sigh, noticing right away the glare on Jacen’s pale and slim face, his blue eyes almost seeming to show a red hue due to his anger. A detail that was caused by the sun reflecting on his irises, one if you hadn't noticed such an effect would have thought his eyes changed colors with his aggravated mood. And for what reasons was he mad? Going by the glare he threw to his friend, and you were guessing here, would be because his friend was talking to you—when did he decide to be the caring older brother?

“Dameron,” your brother smiles, “I’m sorry I’m late, man.” For such a cold glare, he knew how to give a warm and genuine welcome. “I hope my sister wasn’t bothering you”

You frown and huff, feeling him very smoothly tug you towards him without showing Poe his true intentions of why he had pulled you away—“You’re rude and maybe if you were early I wouldn’t have to greet your friends.” You snap.

Jacen’s eyes drift to meet your own, his jaw clenching and showing you a feigned smile. “Go, dads back, go greet him.”

“Fine.” You turn to Poe one last time and offer him one last smile. “I’ll see you around, Poe.” Said man smiles in return, not really caring for your brother's death glare. Not like you cared either—Using a bit of the force you spin back on your heels and offer Ben a warm smile before leaving the group of boys and heading towards your father's strong force presence. Unknowingly keeping Poe's attention on you as your father soon came into view, a warm and kind smile on his lips at the sight of you welcoming him back from a failed recruitment mission.

“Dad!” Quickly you throw your arms around his neck and feel his own arms wrap around you to return your embrace, the long sleeves from his Jedi robes becoming a warm secure blanket on your back. As his familiar natural citrus smell engulfs your nose in its refreshing smell. A welcoming smell, just like he was a welcoming sight after what felt too long being without him.

“Hey, kid.” He warmly greets, pulling away from the embrace to cradle your cheek, “is it just me or is it every time I come back from being away you just get older?”

You shrug nonchalantly and refer to his graying hair. “I think you’re the one getting older.”

He chuckles and pulls away, shrugging off the pack hanging from his shoulder, his eyes looking for who you presumed was Jacen. “Where’s your brother?”

Yep that was it.

You scoff, “off being an ass.”

He raises an eyebrow to your choice of word, a reaction you knew wasn’t welcomed lightly, or at all. He wasn’t a fan of profanity, especially since you were to set an example to the other students since you were who you were. It didn’t stop you though, and you knew he let some bad choice words slip himself, you’ve heard him.

“Sorry.” You mutter.

He shakes his head and proceeds to pull out a small bag from his pack. “I stopped by Naboo before coming back here and when I was there I got you this.” He pulls your hand that was resting at your side to place the pouch on your hand, his smile glowing with happiness. “It isn't anything big, but I hope you like it.” Not being to hold your anticipation, you open the pouch and pull out a silver chain with a japor snippet charm hanging from it. The simple yet meaningful gift makes you grin and wrap him in another hug. “I made one for you brother too—I carved it out myself, I just needed something to hang it from. It’s like the one your grandfather gave your grandmother. It's supposed to mean good fortune. And well when I’m gone for too long so you can remember me.”

“I love it.” You happily exclaim as you feel him place a kiss on the crown of your head. Pulling away shortly after to discover something extra in the pouch. Treats from Naboo, his favorite treats, just like yours. A gift you knew he added so you’d share; “Thank you, dad.”

He wraps his arm around your shoulder and begins to guide you into the temple, the same kind smile on his face as he added with equally as kind words, “love you kid.”

——

(Ben Solo p.o.v)

“Where’s my daughter?”

Ben blinks, his lips parting try to form any word, just any word. To explain in the best way possible to his uncle and former Master that the only daughter he had. The last breathing child he had was being held captive by Snoke inside the First Orders capital ship. Of course he could just simply release that news to him like that. But by the look on his face, he preferred to let it out as easy as possible.

“She’s alive, I’m going to go back for her,” Ben revealed confidently, earning a narrowed look regardless of his choice of words. “Whatever it takes.”

Ben’s mother began to walk towards her brother, a softened look expressed on Luke's eyes, his attention falling on her for a second, his concerned expression appearing again as Ben finished speaking. “Possibility is that the ship they had her on isn’t going to be in the same coordinates, but I know people, I can search here for their location. I will go back for her, I promise.”

Luke sighed, “she’s my only daughter. I can’t…” he paused for a short second, if Ben hadn’t been paying attention to Luke, it would be an action that would have gone unnoticed, just like the crack in his voice. “I won’t lose her too. I’ll go with you.”

With you? Really? Is that what he said?

First, no one except for y/n herself knew where he was after he isolated himself. Second this is the first time in years Luke has ever talked to Ben. His mother sure, a couple times before he completely cut contact, but it had been years since anyone had seen him until now. Did he just expect Ben to know where he was?

Ben’s eyebrows furrowed his lips parting to say his peace before Luke interjected. “I can’t stay like this for too long.” He explained, referring to his current...state. “I shared the coordinates of where I am with your mother, come to me and we’ll go get my daughter.”

Before Ben could even nod to agree with what he suggested, or commanded, Luke disappeared, leaving nothing but simple coordinates in his mother’s mind through their force connection.

Ben cleared his throat and let his eyes wander the crowd that had gathered, noticing that they had begun to disperse at the sight of Luke gone and Ben’s hardened gaze searching the crowd. All of them pretending that they were now “busy”. Bullshit—“Let’s search for the coordinates on the datapads.” Ben said to his mother, her gaze turning to see him and expressing her motherly concern. Even after she had slapped him.

Well maybe he deserved that.

“Let’s get you patched up first, Ben.”

Ben shook his head and stubbornly began to head towards the datapads inside base. His words somewhat wavered as he walked ahead. “no, first we get those coordinates down, before anything else.”

“You’re hurt.”

“It doesn’t matter.” He cut her off, “y/n is still out there. I-I can’t and won’t let them keep her as some prisoner. The longer she’s out there, the higher the possibility it is for her to get hurt.” Ben sighed, “we know how she is.”

His mother sighed, unsure of what to really say to ease his worry. “she’s like her father, Ben. She’s strong and patient, she’s going to be okay.” She tried assuring him, but it didn’t at all coax his worry. That reason was exactly why he was worried. “She’d want you looked out after first.”

Ben sighed, “I know. But let’s just first figure out where he is.” Having no other choice, his mother stopped trying to tell Ben otherwise. She knew she wouldn’t win in this argument.

But maybe she should have, basing off the stares he was getting the further he walked into base with his torn clothing, bruised face and busted lip. It’s like they’ve haven’t seen someone hurt before, or seen him. Maybe it would have been better if he had gone somewhere else that wasn’t here….

“And you tell me who can outrun a band of bounty hunters with a inch of fuel left in their ship?”

“You.”

“I’m not one to brag, but yeah. Me.” The old man chuckles, straightening out the invisible wrinkles on his jacket and receiving a smack on the arm by the tall and hairy Wookiee sitting beside him not mere seconds later. “And Chewie. Don’t worry buddy I didn’t forget you.”

Yeah it was definitely better if he had chosen to travel somewhere else.

The old man’s dark brown eyes spot Ben from across the room, his eyes widening in recognition, the smile that grew faltering until it completely fell at the sight of Ben’s visible wounds.

“When did dad get back?” Ben quietly questioned his mother who walked behind him, his hand flying to his ribs at the sharp sting of pain.

“Earlier today.”

Ben hummed, making his way to his father regardless of his current feelings on him. A noticeable happy look on his father's face once he reached him. Not one that really made it on Ben’s face, but he tried. He was trying. “Dad, Chewie.” His eyes shifted to the pilot his father had shown off to. One of y/n’s friends….special friends; His breath hitched and his eyes drifted nervously to the ground with a very faint and shy smile spreading on his lips. “Hi, Mara.” Said girl smiled and offered him a short nod, her dark eyes searching for only one person who wasn’t by his side. The smile she contained slowly falling.

“Where’s Jaina?”

Who?

Ben blinked, an obvious puzzled look growing on his face, until the light bulb in his head went off a couple minutes later—right, y/n’s fake name to keep her real identity a secret. Right. “She’s….” Ben blanked again, a wave of guilt crashing within him. “She’s..not here.”

Mara answered with a soft “oh”, his theory of her answering with just silence, debunking as she looked up at him with concern. “Are you okay? Do you need me to patch you up? I have some free time.”

His dad tried to hide his proud smile behind his hand, but Ben caught the gesture and hoped Mara didn’t. Ben offered her an assuring smile nonetheless and ignored his dad. “uhh no,” he swallowed thickly at how much more nervous he was beginning to get, “later?”

She smiled and nodded, “okay, I’m here all day so,” she grinned at her own joke before finishing her comment. “Come look for me when you want.”

Ben offered a short nod in agreement and watched quietly as she walked away with Chewbacca, his gaze lost on her figure as she swayed her hips in a confident way, he smiled shyly at the thought of talking to her later, until all the excitement went away when his dad broke him from his stupor, expressing his concern for Ben’s beloved cousin. Or sister as everyone knew her here. “Ben what’s wrong? Where’s y/n? What happened?”

Ben responded with silence, turning to walk towards his intended destination, hearing as both parents paced behind him, ultimately having to force himself to answer with a grumble. “I’m going to get her.”

“Ben.”

“I’m okay, dad, really.” Ben winced softly, his face swallowed by the holo-computers bright blue hue in front of him. Ben’s fingers typing a whirlwind of buttons in a matter of seconds before looking over his shoulder to his mother who had barely caught up to him. “Could you please give me the coordinates.”

His mother nodded and pushed Ben to the side, quickly inserting what was needed before a strange new map flashed on, marking a path to the unknown regions of the galaxy. “Are you sure this is it?” Ben wondered before he zoomed into the new marked planet, his black eyebrows furrowing as he tried to decipher what it was and how the hell he was going to get there. He couldn’t go in the ship the First Order had so generously gifted him. Mainly because he knew it would be tracked. And he couldn’t on any of the ships here because they were all just one seater fighter ships. The only thing he could do was—Ben’s eyes slowly slid to his father, a soft sigh escaping his lips at the thought.

“Yes it’s there.” His mother remarked. “It wouldn’t be wrong.”

Ben ran a hand through his hair and then rested his hands on the table. Letting his mother explain to his father what this was and what had gone on just moments ago with her long lost twin brother. A mixture between excitement and confusion expressed on his father's face.

“Dad…” Ben paused and sighed again, hesitating to even continue. Just digging the heel of his boot into the stone ground, barely now feeling the high heat of D’Qar on him. Making sweat beads roll down his forehead as he tried to ask his father one simple question. “Could I use the Falcon?”

“To get your uncle and save y/n?” His father asked as he crossed his arms over his chest; Ben nodded stiffly, letting that be the only reaction his father needed to continue with a smug grin. “Of course. But your mother, chewbacca and I are going too.”

Ben froze and his eye twitched at the comment, his lips parting to protest. “But—”

“No.” His father interjected. “You’re crazy to think we’re letting you do this alone after what happened. Your partner in crime may be gone, but we’re here.”

“But mom has a base to run, she can’t leave.” Ben tried to argue, his father as stubborn as him.

“It’s okay. She can leave someone in charge. We won’t be gone for long. We’re going with you, end of discussion.”

Ben sighed and hesitated for a moment, knowing damn well that there was no point in arguing. “Fine.”

His mother and father smiled before Han added another comment. “Gives us the excuse to finally reunite the old crew. How about that?”

Ben feigned a smile and offered a short nod. “Great. Just great.” Well this was going to be an adventure—if only this was a different situation and y/n was here. She would have made this more tolerable. She would have loved his father's idea. She would have jumped for joy.

Stars. If only she were here…

——

“I am one with the force,” you slowly breathe out of your nose, trying with everything within you to feel a spark of something, feel the presence of anyone. Ahsoka, your grandfather, Ben or your father. Just anyone so that you could feel less hopeless; “I am one with the force. I am—”

“Does that really work?”

When did the door open?

You sigh and open your eyes with a dread, instantly being welcomed by Poe Dameron, his figure in the small dark room upside down as you balanced on one hand. In attempts to try and feel your force ability. Disappointingly enough though, coming out empty, especially now with the annoying distraction and his...cute white and orange droid by his feet; “What?”

Poe cocks his head to side, shifting the helmet underneath his arm and placing the plate of food down on the metal desk, a cocky smirk on his lips. “Mediating? And all your Jedi whatever?”

You huff, “not anymore since you’re here. Annoying me.” You remark, making him scoff playfully and for the droid to chirp to defend his master. His little soft sounds not at all affecting you. After all, you were friends with artoo. That droid was worse—regardless having no other option, you swiftly flipped back to stand on your feet and hesitate to face him, sighing as you did.

“I brought you food,” Poe points to the tray displaying a healthy amount of vegetables, what looked to be steaming mashed potatoes and fruits—At Least the First Orders food option wasn’t as bad as them.

Your eyes drift to the food and you shake your head, “I’m not hungry.” You cross your arms over your chest and shoot him a pointed look, ignoring the way your stomach growled as the smell of the food hit your nose.

“The guards say you haven’t eaten.” He grumbles, reaching to grab the plate, “eat or you’ll starve.”

You shoot him a glare and stay grounded as he begins walking towards you, his steps heavy as they hit the metal ground while his face clearly came to view under the white dim lights on the ceiling, his gaze not really expressing a concern, but an annoyance to your defiance; “you told me to rot in my cell, I’m doing that.”

Poe sighs heavily, “it’s a figure of speech. I was angry that you lied to me. Don’t they have that where you’re from?”

“I’m from Yavin-4 so you tell me.” You quip. Standing straighter as he comes to a stop in front of you.

“Eat, y/n.”

You grab the tray from his hand and grab the bowl of mashed potatoes, a small smirk faintly showing on your lips as you cupped your hand around the bottom rim and lifted it off the tray to shove it in his face. “Why don’t you.”

Poe’s jaw clenched as he reacted quickly by wiping the food off his face, his dark eyes burning holes inside your head. His lips parted to most likely argue, or scream at you, but instead he clenched his jaw once more. Letting the tray drop to the ground with a loud clang, the food remaining spilling on the floor by your feet, and his gloved hand clenching into a fist at his side before he turned to leave the room (cell) in a huff. His droid following him with concern and a hurried pace. Again, being left all alone with nothing but your failed attempts to reconnect with the force.

Usually when there were those moments when you felt alone, you usually liked to very carefully grab the japor snippet that would hang around your neck on a metal chain, but when you lifted your hand this time to try and feel the soft wooden charm, you only touched soft skin. No reminder of your dad, just the feeling of true and pure loneliness—Maybe the better choice was not to take it off before you arrived here. At least then maybe there would be something to keep you company, or keep you from feeling less alone. But there was no room for maybe’s anymore….

With a shaky exhale you drop to the ground, your eyes watering for a moment before they caught sight of the food spilled on the ground; having nothing else to do and really just distracting yourself, picking it up and placing it back on the tray. Feeling only a small, tiny bit of an inkling of remorse for what you did to Poe—He may be rude and annoying but….he..he was trying something nice.

Eww that even hurt to think.

Catching you by surprise the door slid open, different more lighter footsteps following as they walked inside, informing you immediately that it wasn’t Poe who returned, and it wasn’t Rey. You discreetly peeked over your shoulder as the door slid closed, spotting a black uniform reflecting the gleam of white light, a recognizable stormtrooper helmet on its head and a new tray of food in its hands—“there's people that can do that, y’know.”

Ah, now you knew who it was. “Oh, look, Poe sent in his apologetic stormtrooper.” You turn back around and focus on cleaning up the food. “Go away.”

“Finn.” He corrects you. “It’s actually Finn.”

You scoff as you sit up, still letting your back face him. “Okay.”

“You haven’t ate.”

You roll your eyes and sigh. “You too, huh? You know I thought that whole reason of being a prisoner was to torture me. Not to treat me like a child.”

“You’re a guest.”

Finally you roll your head over your shoulder to make sure he saw your raised eyebrow and narrowed gaze. “Funny.” You spin around where you sat to face him with the same reaction. “Tell your master that I’m not hungry.”

Finn nods slowly and grabs a metal chair, twisting it around so he could take a seat. “I won’t leave until you will.”

“Then I guess you’re staying here all day.”

“I guess I will.” He quipped back, sounding exactly how Ben would. So paternal. It sucked; “tell you what, Nomad was going to do this later, but, I can take you to a better room if you eat.”

You scoff. “I’m not some pet or some child that you can bribe!”

Finn sighed, even if his face was covered it was audible that he sighed through his nose. “You’re snippy, you know that?” He paused and shrugged, “look I know you’re not a child or some pet, but I can’t promise you anything else, okay? Plus this room sucks, it’s dark and depressing, your new room will be bigger and have a window. Gives you room to walk and see the stars. But only if you at least have a couple bites of food.”

You huff and hesitate to stand up, biting the inside of your cheek and drifting your eyes to see the soft red lights that decorated the ground as you contemplated your answer. “You’re weird y’know? Different from the other stormtroopers.”

Finn shrugged, “I’ll take that as a complement.”

You meet the visor where his eyes are meant to be and groan softly. “Fine, I’ll eat.” You take the tray of food he offers and sit in another chair across from him, noticing as he crossed his arms over his chest in a cocky way.

“Wasn’t so hard, now was it?”

A scoff escapes your lips before a faint smile tugged at the corner of your lips as you answer him, “I guess not.” Finn shrugs and you simply roll your eyes as you finally take a bite of your food. “Happy?”

He quips, “very.”

——

“You’ve got a smile brighter than any of those stars.”

A smile slowly tugs at your lips at the faint memory sounding in your mind, whilst your eyes get lost on the view of the dark and cold vacuum of space in front of you, pretending that if you thought hard enough, you could see the memory play in the twinkling stars. It was the only form of distraction to keep you from really feeling what your mind, whole being wanted you to really feel.

“Any more compliments and she’ll turn out like you, Anakin.” Master Kenobi retorted, making your grandfather grin smugly.

“And that’s wrong? She is my only granddaughter after all. Maybe I want her to be just like me.”

You chuckle and keep listening to what Master Kenobi had to say in return. “Ahsoka and I enjoy her the way she is. Don’t corrupt her please.”

A knock sounds on the door, pulling you from your stupor and causing your smile to fall. Only watching from the reflection of the transipersteel that Nomad had opened the door, his figure stuck at the entrance of the door, the bright light of the halls growing his shadow on a ground that was a hundred times more smoother than the cold hard metal, grate of a floor that was in your cell before. This cell had a bed. A bigger bed than you’ve ever had in your life, with a bigger room that could probably fit the small boxes you would stay in at base a hundred times over. The sheets were a dark silk heaven...Like how you imagine a cloud to feel, and there was a huge bathroom that was a part of your “room” (cell), and a walk-in closet that was only half full with First Order clothes you would never actually wear, but it had them hanging from the racks. Overall your excitement was obvious and not expected. They had spoiled you to the max with this room. Even if it was locked from the outside; which actually brought you to the conclusion that there was some reason behind this relocation.

Beside just the fact that they were obligating you to stay here alive.

“Do you need something?”

The sound of his weight shifting to his other foot echoed throughout the room, the sound nor him actually pulling your full attention just yet.

“Do you want to get out of your room?”

You sigh and bite the inside of your cheek, “cell you mean.” You correct him.

Nomad sighs loudly, “do you?”

“Depends. Am I going home?”

“No.” He deadpans before letting silence engulf the whole room. The sound of his helmet clicking before it came off was the only noise that traveled around, the sound of his voice much softer now without his helmet following shortly after. “Rey is gone on some mission. I need someone to train with.”

You scoff and cross your arms over your chest, being quick with a retort. “Your girlfriend’s gone so now you’re bugging me?”

Poe chuckled and was heard fully entering the room, letting the door slide shut behind him. “Not my girlfriend. She wishes she was. Plus I think you're more her type.”

“That, or she’s simply not into you.” You quip with a smug grin.

“Possibly.” He agreed, his footsteps stopping a couple feet behind you; “do you want to leave or not? I promise I’ll go easy, wouldn’t want to harm the pretty princess, y’know.”

You roll your eyes. “Stop calling me that, I’m not a princess. Far from it.”

“Your father is basically Jedi royalty, just like your last name, basically makes you one.”

“Nah.” You smirk, “the only princess I know is my cousin Ben. So.” Prince basically, but same thing. You loved to tease him. Got him ticked and got you happy.

“Come on. You don’t want to be stuck in here all day. It gets depressing.” Poe adds, making you grow quiet and not really thinking much of your answer before you answered with another sigh.

“Fine.” You finally turn to face Poe, seeing the cuffs already in his grip.

He noticed your gaze on the object and shrugged. “Trust issues. They’ll be off when we get to the training room.” Having no other choice you extend your hands and let him slap the cuffs on your wrists, watching as he put his helmet back on. Why? No idea. It’s not like he had trouble breathing like Darth Vader had, nor was it intimidating as his. It looked like any other helmet the stormtroopers with the black suits had on. You would have asked, but you didn’t feel like giving him the satisfaction that something about him remotely caught your attention. Unless it was his scar. But that wasn’t something you had the need to comment on anymore. Just like you didn’t comment on the silence that surrounded you both as he walked you to the training room. Walking past stormtroopers with the black uniforms that differed those with the usual get up. Again you wanted to comment, but again you chose not to. Just letting the silence continue until you arrive at the room, the cuffs soon getting taken off once you both are secured inside the unsurprisingly huge area.

“Here,” he says breaking the silence, handing you a new set of hand wraps as he took off his helmet with his other hand, his eyes traveling from what he offered you and up to you. “I’m not going to bite. Take them. And don’t wrap them on too tight, or you’ll open your wound on your hand.”

He remembered about that? You hardly did

With some small hesitation you chose to take the hand wraps from him and only mouth a soft ‘thank you’ before you took off the ugly long sleeved shirt they had put on you before, being in only the tank top underneath, just like he now was. You tried to avert your eyes, really tried, but found yourself looking at him regardless as you began to wrap one hand, noticing that he wasn’t built like before when you first met him, when he would hang out with Ben and your brother. No, he was older now, his arms weren��t as skinny as before, they had a lot more...muscle to them and his chest was much more..how does someone describe it? Toned? Just like his...abdominal area. It was all just stamped through his tight tank….

Wait a minute...no. No—hastily before he noticed you staring, you tore your eyes away and focused on what you were doing—was it hot in here? Stars. Fucking...

“You done?”

You swallow thickly again and nod. “Yep.” Before he was able to comment on anything you jumped up, and met him on the mat, looking around for any usual weapons you were used to training with. “Do I get to use any of my lightsabers?”

Poe shakes his head whilst he gets into a fighting stance. “Not until you don’t want to kill me and you don’t want to leave anymore.”

“I’m a prisoner inside your capital ship, Dameron, of course I will fight to leave. All the time.”

“Then you don’t get your lightsabers. Simple.”

You huff and get into your own fighting stance, a mixture between use of form V and the form Ashoka taught you. Carefully eyeing every movement Poe began to make as he paced around you, waiting for you to attack, watching with his own eyes as you shifted your body to be prepared for any attacks. Smirking once he got impatient and attacked first, letting you to quickly dodge his swing and swiftly return to your stance, kicking his side before swinging your other leg and missing as he ducked.

You grinned and slightly jumped back to avoid his move, shrugging as you added something with heavy breaths. “No training stick or anything? Or are you too afraid I’ll beat you?”

Poe hesitated to answer. Giving right away his thoughts, which was a clear ‘yes’. He might’ve responded with a ‘no’ but you knew.

Poe tried to swing again but you quickly caught his fist and smirked, twisting his arm a bit before jumping slightly to lock his neck with your legs and flipping him over to crash onto the mat. His hand you had pinned to the ground while with his other hand he was quick to tap your leg to call it quits—you did so and loosened your grip, letting him slip out and carefully touch his offended area, while he also tried to breath in air, his eyes on you expressing a mixture of something you couldn’t define; “damn, princess, who the hell taught you to fight?”

You push yourself up to your feet and shrug, “I’ve had multiple teachers throughout the years.”

“Your ghost friends?”

Your head whips to where he is and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion and shock. “You remember?”

Poe stands up and keeps rubbing his neck, using the force to summon a water bottle to his hand. Shooting you a look that read ‘yeah? Obviously.’

“Well them and myself.” Your frown returns to your face at the thought, “I wanted to be stronger so when I fought...Nomad. I’d win. I had to grow.”

Poe’s eyes drop and gulps down his water, licking his lips before he adds his other comment. “Well you have grown into yourself.” He smirks and you scoff, unable to tune him out as he continues. “I just mean you—never mind.”

You don’t press on the matter and look away from him, a sharp pain shooting to your palm repeatedly, making you quietly hiss from the pain. You bring your hand up and see the blood soaking through the wraps. Shit. You clench your hand into a fist and just try to ignore it until you were taken back to your cell. But you should’ve known better. Even if this room was big, it appeared almost small with just Poe and you here. He noticed; “I told you not to wrap it too tight. See now you opened your wound again.”

You huff and ignore him, hearing from behind you as he walked up behind until he stood close, his hand forcefully pulling your injured one. Carefully unwrapping the wrap and turning it to see the mess. “I can stitch it up.”

“No.” You answer bluntly, trying to pull your hand away from his grasp, but coming out unsuccessful as he pulled it back to him.

“I’m doing it.”

“Then why’d you ask?”

Poe shrugs and pulls you to sit on a nearby bench, moving away to get what he needed, not taking long in his leave and sitting right back down beside you, taking your hand in his once more and completely removing the hand wrap. Very delicately, in a touch you barely felt cleaning your deep cut you yourself caused when..you stupidly but bravely caught his blade with your hand. It was a move your grandfather would’ve been proud of and Ben would’ve disapproved. Saying ‘it's too dangerous. You’ll get hurt.’ Even if he does the same move too. Whatever—you keep your eyes downcast and just listen to your breathing, soon hearing Poe’s because of how close he sat by you. Unable to keep your eyes away before they drifted to watch what he did, slowly looking up to see his eyebrows furrowed and his gaze narrowed on your wound. Why was he being so nice?

“Why are you being so nice?” You question out loud.

Poe hesitates and inhales quietly before exhaling deeply, only briefly letting his eyes meet your own before choosing to answer. “You want to get an infection on your hand?”

“No.”

“You’re my guest, I like to treat my guests nice.” He adds, his gaze focusing on the needle in his hand, ignoring your scoff.

“If I was your guest, I wouldn’t be in a cell.”

“You’re in a room.”

“It’s locked from the outside. Forbidding me from going out like a cell would. So it’s a cell.”

Poe stops and looks up at you, parting his lips to argue but choosing to let the silence once again blanket you both. It wasn’t an uncomfortable one, but it was one that soon made you feel the remorse from what you did a while ago; “I’m sorry,”

His breath catches in his throat. He tried to pretend it didn’t, but you caught it. “For throwing the food at you. You didn’t deserve that. You were trying to be nice. I’m sorry.” You pause and a faint smile appears, “only for that though. You deserved me punching you.”

A very faint smile tugs at the corner of his lips, a soft amused huff of air leaving his nose, his gaze meeting with yours for a second before you looked away. Your attention perked up once he mentioned something…“you know when we met for the first time and after you left with your dad and Jacen finally was able to distract Ben with something he told me and I quote, “you’re my friend and as your friend I want to say this. My sister is off limits. I see or hear you talking to her in any sort of suggestive, flirtatious way I’ll hurt you.”

You scoff and smile wider, “he was an ass. I’m sorry.”

Poe shook his head and chuckled. “I didn’t listen, don't worry.”

The smile you had soon faded at the memory of what happened rushed in. Of that night, of who had killed him. The anger returns in a burning fury, causing you to pull your hand away, not caring if he was almost done—He noticed the shift in your emotions, not only by the force, but by the way your eyes watered and your face scrunched up in anger. He wanted to add something, but you cut him off sharply. “Take me back to back to my cell, I’m tired of being here and of you.”

Poe simply nodded and summoned the cuffs to his hand to slap them back on your wrists, his eyes drifting back up to your face to see the tears you tried to hold in. Choosing that only a simple “fine” was enough. Not daring to talk the rest of the way back to the place he called your room. Releasing the cuffs once you were inside, choosing at the last moment, thinking that you wouldn’t notice (when in fact you did) to leave the door unlocked.

A mistake on his part and something you took as an advantage.

——

With very quiet and careful steps you snuck out of your room, looking from hall to hall to make sure the ghost was clear. Once it was you walked down the halls to try and get to the hangar Ben had parked his ship. Hoping that it was still there to make your great escape. Biting the inside of your cheek as a nervous tick. The deeper you walked down the ships halls the tighter you bit down.

Ignoring the pain in your heart to leave your own beautiful purple lightsaber, and the green lightsaber your dad gave to you behind. It hurt your soul, but if you tried to find them you’d be caught, so unfortunately it was something you had to leave, hoping that one day you’ll get them back. Really hoping.

Finally by the miracle of the maker through the wide transparisteel the ship you had come in came to view. A grin spreading whilst you rushed inside the hanger and inside the ship. Lucking out when there were no stormtroopers around, or inside the ship; not like you hoped there would be or you waited to see them as you rushed to the cockpit, letting the necklace you were truly and deeply missing get forgotten until you were out in the safety of hyperspace.

Feeling the cold buttons from the control underneath your hand as it traveled to try and turn it on, feeling a cold breeze of air as you went unaware of the person who had snuck on, his voice breaking the silence that had filled in the small space, the suddenness of his voice causing your shoulders to jump in surprise; “what are you doing?”

Slowly you looked over your shoulder to see Poe standing stiffly by the entrance. His jaw clenched and his glare burned into you as he repeated in a deeper, angrier voice, “What are you doing?”

A/N- the Ben part got long, sorry :/ also let me know me know if you actually want more from his p.o.v since the og group is going to reunite. And if you want to share ideas on what you want to see when they do, let me know :) and before you ask, yes, our beloved reader is friends with force ghosts ;)

Tagged- @thescarletknight2014 , @softly-sad , @golden-guide , @abysshaven , @a-dorky-book-keeper , @kit-jpg , @mybarnesmyhero

Permanent taglist- @ms-dont-care , @commondazy , @paintballkid711

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allycryz · 3 years

Text

WOL Challenge #3: You

[Prompt List Here]

[Filled Prompt List Here]

Haurchefant x Nerys, set immediately after Ardent [Ao3 Link]

Heavensward, right after Inquisition trial and before “Keeping the Flame Alive”

Rating: T for off-screen sex, sex talk

~*This is 2K words, most of it is fluff and I revel in it*~

The Fortemps library is a grand one. Haurchefant is not certain how it compares–he has only been in Haillenarte's with Francel–but imagines it is the finest in Ishgard. His father is a man of letters, a true believer in the power of words. And one who expected his sons to follow suit.

His education differed greatly from his brothers’ the day he became a knight’s page. Even still, his lord father sent him monthly parcels of books. He was expected to read them all and send detailed reports on the contents. Had he ever kept up his thaumaturgy studies, he would have been hard-pressed to find the time.

As it was, he’d stayed up often to fit in the poetry and novels not on the list. Count Edmont was a modern man and his syllabus reflected this–vetted popular authors and poets made it into the parcels. Never in the quantity Haurchefant would have liked. And never some of the one-gil books he bought in The Pillars.

When he was a boy, there were songs for sale about body functions and noises; exaggerated tales of heroes fighting all manner of beasts and foes. As a youth, these became long, violent epics of battles and bravery. As a young man: lurid poems and explicit romance novels. Some as grand and sweeping as the classical romances his Father promoted. Some were not.

He has managed to introduce some contemporary poets into the collection. Not all. Edmont’s tastes in poetry run more traditional. Some of the rising stars of the field are roundly rejected.

Haurchefant is working on that.

Today, he feels romantic in both classic and literal senses. And as his Father has ordered him to stay for a day and night, indulging in a novel sounds just the thing. It seems that getting trapped in a blizzard–even if things had gone fine, more than fine–means your noble father turns to such decrees.

At least, that is what it means now they are growing close, as they never had been. Another miracle Nerys has wrought with her coming. And as Haurchefant has full faith in Corentiaux and the rest...he allows himself to be thus ordered.

Someone else is in the library. He can sense it soon as he enters. A soldier learns to tell when others are near, even in safe environs such as this. Haurchefant softens his footfalls, peering about the shelves. There, in the alcove reserved for study, he finds the source of today’s romantic mood.

Nerys looks up, eyes turning soft. His heart swells in his chest, his mouth cannot help but smile. It’s unstoppable and he does not ever want it to cease. Was it really only yesterday? That she told me my love was returned?

It seems a dream now, albeit the sweetest one he has ever had.

Her hands sweep at the papers she has laid out, pulling them into a stack. Flips over the one on top. “Hello.”

“Hello, my dear.” How nice to call her that. “I thought you were on a shopping expedition with Emmanellain?”

“I was.” She touches her neckline. So caught up in her eyes, he hadn’t noticed the gown she wore.

Scarlet as the unicorn on his shield, set off with dangling garnets in her ears. The heart-shaped neckline shows off her elegant neck and collar bones. The sleeves are slashed to reveal white fabric beneath and the cuffs have delicate pearls. “I found this. For when I’m here at the manor and not about to fight Inquisitors or dragons.”

“You are breathtaking in it.” He circles the table to take her hand. Bows over it before pressing his mouth to her knuckles. Etiquette demands he should kiss the air above it but surely exceptions are made for lovers.

She is my lover now, he thinks in wonder. Her cheeks stain with a fetching indigo shade. “My lord is kind.”

Haurchefant drops to one knee before his lady and turns her hand. Her palm is just as lovely to kiss. “Your lord means everything he says. But if you require further proof of my ardor…”

Nerys darts a glance about before tilting up his chin. Her kiss is sweet and soft and not a little heated. Would that he might lay her upon the table in this temple of learning and know her better.

Alas, Nerys has asked for discretion. Time to better acquaint themselves as lovers before declaring themselves. They are still friends–always will be, if he has anything to do with it–but this dynamic is new and strange. Haurchefant can understand why the most public figure in Eorzea might want some measure of privacy.

Though, he reflects as he parts from her. Half the fun would be keeping quiet and avoiding discovery.

“I know that look,” she says. “You’re thinking of something lascivious.”

“When I had this look before I confessed, what did you think it meant?”

“The same,” she admits. “But that your love of innuendo was good-natured teasing.”

He heaves a sigh. Either he is not as obvious as Estinien always accuses him or she’d been in deep, deep denial. “Dearest love, how-”

The library doors bang open and the culprit whistles as he walks inside. Haurchefant rises, knowing exactly who it is before he comes into view.

“Old Girl! Old Man!” Emmanellain grins. “You didn’t tell me we were having a party in the library.”

“Impetuous Youth,” Haurchefant shoots back. “What if one of us was deep in study?”

“Oh I don’t deal in ‘what-ifs’. You two are having a conversation, not studying; ergo all is well.”

“He has a point. I think,” says Nerys. “By the by, if Haurchefant is ‘Old Man’, what do you call your eldest brother?”

The two men exchange looks. Smile. Say in unison, “Artoirel.”

Nerys groans and flaps both hands at them in dismissal. “Go fetch whatever you two were looking for. I am actually working on something.”

“Am I to be banished for my baby brother’s crimes?” Haurchefant presses a hand to his heart. “Mistress Eluned, you wound me.”

“If I must be quiet and meek like a mouse, so must you. After all, I am the true leader of our brotherly trio.”

“You are right of course. I could never compare to you.” Haurchefant shakes his head. “Very well, Impetuous Youth. As mice scurry to cheese, let us go to the books we seek.”

“Ordered to seek,” Emmanellian mutters. “I’m to review Ymbelet’s Theorem of Command and deliver a report. As if we hadn’t put our schooling well behind us.”

Haurchefant does his best to soothe his brother. They quiet down at last: the younger man taking his volume off to his chambers, the elder settling into an armchair within eyesight of Nerys. (Far enough away that she may stop hiding her work.)

His novel is a work of popular fiction he’d garnered approval to stock here. No erotic scenes, but romantic enough. Should he ever get his eyes to stay on the page.

Alas, the white-haired sorcerer-king and his beloved princess and his soul-eating sword are no match for the Warrior of Light. The curve of her cheek. The braided coronet of purple and white hair, crowning her while the rest of her curls are a lovely raiment over her shoulders. The quirk to her dark, sweet lips.

She lifts those golden eyes, meeting him. If he were not already lovestruck and bedazzled, that gaze would ensnare him. He smiles and lifts his shoulders in a helpless shrug. Haurchefant isn’t sorry for lingering before a sunset; and that natural wonder is naught in comparison.

“My lord,” says Nerys, her voice carrying. “May I help you?”

“Nay, Mistress.” He shakes his head. “Simply exist as you are and I am satisfied.”

That is when Alphinaud bursts in, looking drawn and pale. If Haurchefant is annoyed at another interruption, that vanishes at the sight. He jumps to his feet. “My lad! Are you alright?”

The youth shakes his head. “Nerys. Tataru has grave news about General Aldynn. We must be off at once.”

She rises, hurrying over in a rush of white and red silk. In an instant she has changed from playfulness to resolute determination. Always ready to become The Warrior, his Nerys.

“Do you require anything?” He asks them. “You know my sword is yours, as is any resource at our disposal.”

Alphnaud shakes his head. “No one must see us enter Thanalan or leave. As soon as we cross back into Coerthas, we’ll send word.”

“I thank you. If you needs must bring the General somewhere safe, Camp Dragonhead’s doors are open to you.” If he must return to his command rather than fight at her side, at least he might be of some use to her. He loves–truly loves–his role but lately, his dearest wish is to be a shield at her back and a sword in her arsenal.

Ah, well, even Sorcerer-Kings do not get all they want. Why should he?

He dips into a sweeping bow to them both. Alphinaud returns it before rushing out, every emotion writ upon his usually perfect diplomat’s mask. Should the General die, the youth will carry it as he does everything else that occurred with the Braves. Haurchefant sends a prayer to Halone, asking for mercy on him.

Nerys takes his hand. Squeezes it. He squeezes it back. She smiles before picking up her skirts and rushing afterward.

It proves impossible to focus after that, even more than before. For a moment he entertains armoring up and following. This isn’t Dragonhead and so none of the knights with orders to keep him safe are here. (That time with Iceheart, Corentiaux had actually sat upon him.)

But they have asked he stay behind. So he will.

Haurchefant can take care of Nerys’ papers for her. He means to pointedly not look at the contents. He truly does. But he sees a piece of paper with his name on top, another with his last name, and his resolve crumbles.

The first piece of paper is titled “Minako” in large, neat letters. Beneath are names like Mamoru, Umino, Motoki. Her Yellow Chocobo is named Minako. Therefore, this is for…

The next sheet of paper confirms his suspicions. Under the heading “Black Chocobo” are the names Endymion, Starlight, Twilight, Onyx. Below that, a subheading “Elegance” with virtue monikers: Noble, Dignity, Charming.

And so, when he arrives to the last three papers (titled “Haurchefant”, “Greystone”, and “Fortemps”), he cannot contain his joy. The little note scribbled atop “Haurchefant” tickles him further. He gave you the Chocobo and you adore him. Will he be offended? He might be offended.

Haurchefant is certainly not offended.

He delights in the candidates, even some of the ones she crossed out. Sadly, there is no option for “Haurchefant” or “Haurchefant II.” I suppose that might get confusing.

Grinning, he picks up her leather folio and tucks her work inside. Hopefully, she will forgive his snooping because he has some ideas about this.

The Lord Commander’s bed at Camp Dragonhead may be the most comfortable place in Eorzea.

Nerys should get up to clean, brush her teeth, all the little nighttime rituals. But she is so pleasantly exhausted and the blankets are so soft and warm. She stretches, luxuriating in the feel of them against her skin. It has been a harrowing few days since her abrupt departure from Ishgard. But all is well and now, she feels nothing but comfort.

The bed could be warmer with her companion. But then she wouldn’t get to see his bare bottom as he slips into the bathroom. Halone must adore him to bless him with such a lovely rear.

“My love,” he calls after a while. “I have a confession to make.”

“Oh? Should I be worried?”

“I hope not.” He returns with a washcloth, his black silk robe barely closed against the cold. The fireplace sends flickers of light across his sculpted chest. “I may be overstepping but...I must say that I truly adore the name Grey. Though Tempsy is charming. Also, may I suggest Haurchon?”

What does he...oh. Oh! Nerys groans and buries her face in a pillow. She had been in such haste to rescue Raubahn–rightfully so!–that she had left all her papers there. All face up, all in the open.

The mattress dips as Haurchefant sits beside her. One hand strokes her hair, gentle and sweet. “I should not have pried but Nerys–my dearest one–I am utterly and truly touched by the idea. Though of course, if you pick a different name I will not be offended.”

“I only...well, I wouldn’t have him if not for you,” she mutters into the pillow, heat filling her face. “And if not for him, we wouldn’t have been in Coerthas that day.”

“So we owe him a great honor, for bringing us together at last.” His lips press against her bare shoulder. “Of course, the truest honor would be to name him after yourself-”

She turns then, mortification at last leaving her. Cups his face in her hands. “I am not playing this game where we go on for hours about who is better. Let’s agree it’s you and end it there.”

“Oh my love,” he sighs, bending down to her. “Though you are wrong, I must obey if it proves to you the depth of my regard.”

“I know another way you could prove it,” she says, pulling him atop her.

Grey likes his name.

#seaswolchallenge #nerys eluned #haurchefant greystone #haurchefant x wol #emmanellain de fortemps #Alphinaud Leveilleur #they're cute!#I love them #I love writing him when he's in love #and he is so often in love #:3 #ally writes

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fletchphoenix · 4 years

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I’ll See You When I Fall Asleep

Hi All! This is Chapter 10 of the Varigo Coffee Shop AU! Also!! A lot of you have asked and yes, I do have an Ao3 where I cross-post called ‘fletchphoenix’ too! Anyway, thank you for all your support and onwards with the chapter!!

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Thunder rumbled and lightning crackled outside the window as Varian shook, holding a small test tube in his hands. Where even was he? His eyes weren’t adjusting properly, until the sudden flick of a lightswitch brought about a blinding light. Varian attempted to cover his eyes to block it out, his attempts not working in the slightest. He lowered his arms with a frown and glanced around the room as he regained his vision slowly. Nothing seemed right here - a fantastical vibe surrounded the whole room as he took in all the small details.

The room was dank, the aroma of rotting wood filling the room which, coinciding with the light, made for an awful pairing that made Varian queasy. Uneven, cobbled floor made his feet slip slightly and he struggled to keep his balance as he felt himself feeling sicker and sicker. There was almost no natural light in the room either - only one half-oval window that sat above a creaky table, covered in journals and various scientific apparatus that he had used many times. A raccoon sat on the table too, snoring with a large sheet of paper lying underneath it. The cause of the bright lights were around six lanterns hanging from the ceiling, and now that his eyes had time to brace themselves, he could see it really wasn’t that bright, with an eerie mood being set in the room. Paper and chalk also littered the wall with frantic scribbles about something he didn’t understand. The sundrop…? He didn’t know. The thing that put him off..were the rocks.

Black rocks shot out of the ground in clumps of two or three, reaching so high they almost pierced the rotting ceiling of the makeshift laboratory. He reached out and rapped his fist against the rock quietly - it seemingly was not breaking. Huh, invincible black rocks? Makeshift labs in an ancient house? It was strange how much they put him off, unease building in his stomach for some reason unbeknownst to him. His eyes set on a large figure in the middle of the room, covered by a towering sheet with small patches of different fabric scattered over the sheet. The stitching looked poor though, as though someone who’d never sewn before had done it. Come to think of it, his clothes were the same, a cyan shirt with a patch on the left arm that was significantly darker than the rest of the fabric. The shirt, however, was almost completely covered by a leather apron, also swamping the brown trousers that he was wearing, stopping shy from the top of his boots. It didn’t seem right for him to be wearing this. A frown crept onto his face as he rested his hands on the sheet, taking in a deep breath before pulling it away and revealing the thing it was concealing. A gasp left his mouth and he doubled over, taking in sharp breaths as the tears instantly built in his eyes. His head shot back up to stare at the sight in front of him.

A hard, amber substance twisted in harsh turns, sharp spikes of it trailing high and curling at points. His boyfriend was trapped in the amber, his hand outstretched with a note in his hand, a clear expression of pain on his face forever. Tears welled in his eyes and rolled freely down his cheek, his shaky steps inching closer to the amber and his hands resting on it. “Hugo?” he whispered, unsure of whether his father could even hear him from his crystallised prison.

“Varian, what have you done?” Varian’s head snapped around to see Rapunzel, hands raised to cover her mouth in shock of the scene unfolding in front of her. She looked so frightened - but not of the amber, of him. She looked different too - blonde locks that must’ve measured over sixty feet were tied back into a mix between a ponytail and a braid replaced her brunette bob. She also wore a purple dress, akin to one an elegant princess would wear. He opened his mouth to say something, before being rudely interrupted.

“This is all your fault.” Another voice. Eugene’s. He slowly moved from the darkness and placed his hands on Rapunzel’s shoulder, her turning back to wrap her arms round him in a fearful embrace. He glared coldly at Varian, as if he’d done something wrong.

More and more voices joined the symphony of blaming Varian, each declaration cutting deeper and deeper each time. He covered his ears, a futile attempt to try and block all of the noise out but it only got louder and louder. People he loved were calling him a monster. All except for..

“Hugo! Hugo, I’m so sorry!” he cried out, forcing himself to raise his head and eyes darting around the room and staring at the prison of the boy he loved so dearly that he’d created. He couldn’t bear to look at his frozen corpse, too many people crowding and screaming at him about his faults. It was all becoming too much. The yelling, the closeness..he couldn’t handle it. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, moving closer and closer towards the floor. “Hugo!”

“HUGO! He yelled and sat up, grasping the bedsheets and letting out heavy, shaky breaths, startling the safe, sleeping form of his boyfriend beside him. His knees curled against his chest, trying to steady his breathing to no avail as his small form shook with every sob that left his mouth. Sweat formed a gross blanket over his skin, presumably from his body reacting to the panic he was feeling. What even was that place? Why did everyone look so different? Why wasn’t Hugo there? The questions flooding his head only caused more stress to take its toll on his body as his breathing quickened once again.

“Varian.” His boyfriend’s voice called from beside him, “Hey, can I touch you? Is that okay?” he questioned, Varian giving a small nod before Hugo’s hands rubbed soothing circles onto his back carefully in an attempt to help comfort him until he was ready to talk. Still shaking, Varian leaned in closer to his boyfriend, comfortably moving so they were laying down in a gentle embrace, swaying slightly as Hugo whispered sweet nothings to his boyfriend and placing kisses to the top of his head. “Hey, whatever it was, it wasn’t real. I’m here now and you’re safe. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

As he felt more comfortable and safe, he looked at Hugo’s face. Concern covered it - his eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he held Varian’s hands in his own, peppering kisses over them. “I..woke up in a lab. I didn’t recognise it. It was covered with all there..black rocks that stuck out of the ground. And there was amber in the middle. You were stuck inside. Everyone was yelling at me and saying it was all my fault. It was terrifying, Hugo. I couldn’t breathe. I just..” his arms tightened around the blonde, gripping the fabric of his shirt. “I was so scared that I’d hurt you. That I’d actually lost you..I don’t want to lose you, Hugh. I love you too much.” he whispered against his boyfriend’s shoulder, the muscles underneath his shirt tensing tremendously in reaction to his words.

Hugo sat in silence, holding the boy closer to him and staring blankly at the wall. How..how could he respond to that? Amber..? Black rocks? He let out an exasperated sigh as he pet the hair of the younger boy. He’d never seen his boyfriend so distraught over a nightmare, the other gripping his shirt as they embraced. He reached for his glasses, putting them on before picking up his phone to check the time. 3:54am. Well, they weren’t going back to sleep anytime soon anyway, he decided before shuffling back in the embrace, resting his hands on his boyfriend’s shoulders. “How about we put on one of those crappy romance films you love so much and make some hot cocoa? How does that sound, sweetheart?” The sight of Varian’s slight smile and a nod was all the confirmation he needed. “Okay love, you go make the cocoa and I’ll sort out the snacks. After all, you are the cocoa master.” He added with a chuckle before swinging his legs over the bed, pushing the fuzzy slippers Varian had randomly bought him one day onto his feet and striding down the hall to the living room.

He set up a mini bed for them on the sofa, bringing over a blanket and pillows for the both of them. He knew Varian’s would go unused though, the younger would most likely opt to lay on top of him with his head on his chest, not that he was complaining. More pillows for him, he thought with a grin as he walked into the adjacent room to get some snacks. Passing his boyfriend, he decided on a wide variety, including candy, chocolate and some ice cream in case that’s what Varian decided to opt for. He glanced over at his boyfriend, whose attention was solely focused on making the perfect beverage for both of them. A lovestruck smile drifted onto his face as he strutted over, placing an unexpected kiss to his boyfriend’s cheek, throwing off his concentration for a split second. “Smells wonderful babe, keep up the immaculate work and maybe I’ll teach you the art of making the perfect vanilla latte. Who knows?” Varian chuckled, Hugo silently praising himself for making the boy smile at least a little bit before heading into the living room, an abundance of snacks in his arms.

Carefully he set them out on the table, being sure to empty out a packet of cat food for Ruddiger into his ceramic bowl, the cat graciously jumping from his perch on the cat tower and beginning his meal. Hugo rolled his eyes, a smile playing on his lips at his peace offering being accepted so willingly by his arch-nemesis. Hopefully now the cat would let him spend some time alone with his boyfriend, letting them cuddle on the sofa and watch one of Varian’s….admittedly terrible romance films free from any intrusion from the attention whore.

He understood the cat’s worry though - according to Varian, he’d taken him in when he was a kitten and extremely malnourished, taking care of him. From then on, Ruddiger had been extremely loyal to Varian, never straying from his human’s side (because let's be real, Ruddiger owned Varian, not the other way around. That cat had almost everyone wrapped around it’s metaphorical finger and it knew that...terrifyingly well) even when he’d executed some very much illegal acts in the name of helping his father.

Hugo didn’t blame Varian for his past, loving the boy either way. His dedication was difficult for the other to understand. He’d never really learnt to form any bonds with...well, anyone. Having no parents and growing up in an orphanage that couldn’t have cared less about any of the kids there didn’t help either, even after Donella ‘adopted’ him, it still didn’t do anything. Varian was the only person he’d ever really had an official relationship with, the rest just being out of boredom and the complete and utter loneliness he’d felt because of the distance Donella had put between him and her. He never really had anyone there for him, so he’d just keep on using people for his own personal means and throwing them away without so much of a glance back with no remorse when he was finally done with them. He knew it was wrong - that he was hurting people who didn’t warrant it - but he just didn’t care at all at the time, because he knew he’d never see them again. Right? He guessed that was it - devotion never coming easy to him anyway, so of course it would be a difficult concept for him to grasp anyway. He let out a sigh and laid down on the sofa, pulling the blanket over himself quietly before scrolling through his phone and waiting for his boyfriend to join him.

“Heya Hugh.” Varian called as he entered the living room, setting the mugs down on the coffee table in front of them beside the snacks before shuffling under the covers, sitting in between his boyfriend’s legs with his back pressed against his chest. Hugo reached out to grab their mugs and sipped the hot cocoa, making a slight moan of satisfaction. “Oh my god, this is so good, Varian!” he cried as he kept chugging the delicious drink, an arm wrapping around his waist, giving his boyfriend time to push it away if he wanted. Varian didn’t seem to mind, already turning on the film and beginning to eat his ice cream happily.

They sat in silence for a while, Varian watching his film and Hugo drifting in and out of sleep repeatedly. The only thing keeping him awake was the occasional sound of his boyfriend’s laughter or mumbling to himself at how ridiculous a certain character was being. It was kind of adorable listening to the younger man rant under his breath about something completely fictitious. He kept his gaze on Varian happily before a frown developed on his face. That dream Varian had sounded terrifying, if he was being honest, and it scared him to death. Just how much self loathing was the boy harbouring without even speaking up? Sure, he’d done some bad things in the past, but everyone had forgiven him for that, so why couldn’t Varian forgive himself? It weighed on Hugo’s mind, his nimble fingers tracing small circles onto the other’s stomach gently to keep himself grounded.

“You’re thinking so hard, I can almost hear the cogs in your head turning.” Varian commented, not even looking at his boyfriend as he kept his eyes focused on the TV. “If you’re thinking about what I think you’re thinking about, I’m fine. It was just a dumb nightmare that really spooked me at first. I was so scared of the concept that I’d lost you for good that I couldn’t breathe or even focus. I didn’t even know what I’d done or if I’d even done anything, I’d just accepted that yes, it WAS all my fault. What I did in the past was...well, it was atrocious in all honesty..but that doesn’t reflect who I am at all. You know who I am. I was just so lost without my father, and I couldn’t turn to my mother...I felt like everyone had turned their back on me and that I wasn’t even deserving of the very air I breathed. It’s gonna take me awhile to forgive myself for what I did to Rapunzel and Eugene and, well, everyone. But I’ll get there. Okay?”

Hugo’s fingers braided a section of Varian’s hair as he spoke, taking in every word he spoke and giving it time to process, admiring his work mid-speech. “Okay doll, I just don’t want you thinking I’m gonna just..up and leave one day, y’know? You know about my old reputation in senior year..how I’d date around and leave a trail of broken hearts behind me but..I just want you to know I’m serious when I say I’m fully committed to you, okay? I adore you for all I’m worth. I’ve never met a guy as spectacular as you are, but I would never ask for anyone different. Varian, I really do love you.” Hugo confessed, subconsciously pulling the boy closer to his chest and shutting his eyes. “More than you’ll ever know. You’ve taught me...so so much about unconditional love and what it takes to be so in love you’d do anything for them so...thank you. Just- thank you.”

“Aw, Hugo being sappy? Are you the real Hugo or are you an imposter?” Varian said with a grin and a laugh, leaning his head back before closing his eyes. “Let’s just watch the movie, babe...okay? I love you too, for the record.” he whispered back, intertwining their fingers. And thus, the boys slowly drifted into a deep slumber, wrapped in each other’s arms and ready to face whatever the universe threw at them.

Well, almost anything the universe threw at them.

They awoke, limbs tangled, on the couch to a loud banging at the door. Hugo groaned, rubbing his eyes as he slowly started to sit up, Varian stirring too on his chest. “Who the fuck is here and why the hell are they banging the door so goddamn loud?!” he exclaimed, Varian removing himself from his boyfriend’s lap and heading towards the door. Hugo didn’t understand. Does no one in this modern age have any respect for anyone? All he wanted to do was cuddle his boyfriend on the couch all morning before the inevitable angry texts from Donella swarmed his phone.

Oh shit. What if it was Donella at the door? Oh god. He’d ever introduced Varian to his side of the family (and quite frankly, he didn’t want to, considering how...dysfunctional it was. It wasn’t even officially a family unit, Donella only being a mother figure) and he didn’t want Varian to meet her when she was mad. Donella had a supernatural strength when she was mad - not even kidding, he’d seen her make one of the strongest men in the workshop, a man who had LITERALLY been nicknamed ‘Skullcrusher’ when he was in a gang for...obvious reasons, cry like a baby on the floor. It was a feat in its own right, however he didn’t want Varian to suffer through that same treatment. He hurried into the hall. “Hey Goggles?-” He froze.

There was a woman at the door. Her ginger hair was tied into a neat bun, fringe falling and stopping just above her right eyebrow. She had the same eyes as Varian, except a slightly more vibrant, electric blue than his beloved’s, along with freckles scattered all over her face, hands and what was visible of her arms. She was slightly taller than his boyfriend, still smaller than him, but nonetheless she still possessed some height over Varian. She looked exactly like the woman in Donella’s pictures, the one who used to be her old research partner...though who was she?

He walked over and rested his hand on Varian’s back, leaning forward slightly to catch a glimpse of his face. He looked astonished and shocked - his mouth and eyes wide in amazement as he spared no mind to Hugo, solely focused on the woman in front of him. His hands shook slightly as he pulled them to his sides. “Mom..?” Varian hardly whispered, taking a step towards the woman, who reached her hand out to cup his cheek gently.

“Varian-” She called out, a soft smile on her face and tears building in her eyes as she took him into a hug. Oh, yeah. Now Hugo could place the name, his eyes narrowing in disdain towards the woman before him. She was the one who had stopped Donella’s progress in the scientific field, stealing her research and disappearing to the other ends of the earth. She was the one who had ruined her life, and consequently, his too. Her eyes met his and she smiled slightly, extending her hand out to him. “Oh, where are my manners? Let me introduce myself, I’m Ulla. Ulla Ruddiger.”

His boyfriend’s mother was his motherly figure’s worst enemy.

Brilliant.

#varigo #varian and the seven kingdoms #varian x hugo #varian tangled #tangled varian #hugo tangled #tangled hugo #alchemy boyfriends #varigo coffee shop au

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aethelflaedladyofmercia · 4 years

Text

Dream A Little Dream - 3

Our next @bingokisses prompt is Tucking Hair Behind the Ear/Palm Kisses! This fic went in...a rather different direction than expected, but I wanted to make full use of the dream concept at least once.

The earlier sections are available on AO3.

Chapter 3: AD 1017 - The Impossible Dream

The knight rode his white stallion easily through the mist, mirror-bright armor resting lightly on his back and limbs. Ahead, a brilliant white stone tower rose, tall enough to pierce the sky, its peak obscured by black storm clouds. Rose bushes thick with thorns surrounded the base, barring all entry except through a single window, nearly a hundred feet high.

He swung himself down from the saddle and strode across the green sward. “Fair maiden!” The warrior lifted the visor of his helm, throwing his voice to echo off the stone. “Tales of your sorrows have spread throughout the kingdom. But fear not, for I, Sir Aziraphale, have come to rescue you from your sordid fate and see you safely hence!”

Far above, a figure leaned from the window. Narrow face pale above a deep black dress, clinging tightly to every curve and angle. Long limbs lost in sweeping crimson sleeves perfectly matched to the figure's main feature: endless waves of dark red hair. A single lock slipped free and tumbled down the side of the tower, nearly long enough to brush the ground below. Long-fingered hands cradled a pert chin as shining eyes took in the knight.

“Really? That’s what you’re going to open with?”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale’s gauntlet struck his hip with an annoyed clank. “I was trying to set a mood here.”

“You certainly set something.” Crowley chuckled, sending another ripple through the ocean of red hair. “I mean, it started well enough, I guess, but sordid fate? See you safely hence? Kind of falls flat if you ask me. Didn’t even mention slaying any wicked beasts.”

“Well. Not really the slaying sort.”

“Don’t let the princesses hear you say that.” Crowley’s fingers drummed on the windowsill. “They all love to see a good slaying. As for what comes next, is safety all you can promise? Might hold out for a better offer.”

“I hardly think you’re in a – a bargaining position up there.”

“Oi, you know how many knights have come by before you? I usually stop counting after twelve, and that was a while back. This tower is prime real estate.” A flash of white teeth behind blood red lips. “Most of them were much better at the speeches, you know. I can give you pointers if you like.”

Aziraphale shifted his cape back over his shoulders, covering his armor. “This isn’t a game, Crowley. Can’t you be serious for once in your life?”

“Everything is a game, Angel.” A flick of Crowley's head sent another river of hair wriggling down the side of the tower. Thick, loose curls, with a strong braid running through the middle. The tips of the hair came to rest twenty feet above the rose bushes. “Oh, will you look at that? Guess I shouldn’t have trimmed it last week, but you know. Split ends. Did you bring a ladder? None of the other knights brought ladders. You’d think, maiden in a tower, that’s the first thing they’d grab.”

“How many knights managed to scale the tower?”

“Jealous?” Crowley braced against the window frame and leaned forward, spilling out the rest of the hair, as well as an ample expanse of bosom. “Don’t worry, the dragon got all of them. They may have talked nice, but they were just shiny armor and fancy words. No substance. Not like you, of course.”

“Flattery won’t win me over.”

“Flattery can do anything, properly applied.”

Aziraphale took a deep breath and adjusted his helmet again. Really, none of this was going remotely to plan. He ought to just drop it and walk away, but not until he was absolutely sure of one thing. “Crowley. Are you alright? The rumors all say that the maiden in the tower is being held against her will. Do…do you need help?”

Crowley’s head tipped this way and that, thinking it over. “Well…yes, I suppose. See, I can’t leave this tower until someone tames the dragon. Why, did you want to try?”

“That was the plan, yes.” He glanced about. The tower was atop a hill, so despite the mist he could see a fair distance. No sign of any monster. “But, if we can get you down before it returns…”

“Nh. Well. About that.” Crowley’s grin grew wider, face grew longer, splitting into a black-scaled, arrow-shaped head with a mouth full of fangs and smoke. “I’m the maiden and the dragon. Ssseemed more efficient that way.”

Delicate, thin hands turned to claws, carving deep cracks into the stone of the wall, and the spill of hair twisted into a long red tail that slashed and darted through the air.

Aziraphale’s horse fled with a terrified scream, but the angel stood his ground, braced and unflinching as the tail wrapped around him, lifted him, pulled him through the air like a fish on a line.

All at once, he was inside the creature’s lair, a deep stone cave filled with stalactites and stalagmites, a pile of shining treasure somewhere just out of sight. One scaled fist clutched the angel from breastplate to greave, while a claw dragged around the edge of his helm, scratching curiously.

“Well? Aren’t you going to sssscream?”

Aziraphale found one golden eye, towering somewhere above him, and held its gaze. “And why should I do that?”

“I’m a monsssster, you idiot.” The fist tightened slightly, enough to make the armor creak and groan. “I could dessstroy you in an insssstant.”

“But you won’t.” Aziraphale wriggled his shoulders, pulling his arms free one at a time. “You won’t hurt me. Ever.”

“How can you be ssssure?” Twin gouts of steam shot from enormous nostrils, volcanically hot. “You should kill me before I tear you apart.”

“You really do need to listen better. I already told you, I’m not the slaying type. I’m here to save you from your fate, no more, no less.”

“You can’t – Angel, there’sss nothing to ressscue me from! You can’t take me away from myself.”

“Well, I certainly didn’t say anything about taking you away.” Aziraphale swept the helmet off his head, dropping it to clatter across the cavern floor. A mass of curly white hair shook free, not as long as Crowley’s had been, but wild and loose, spilling across his shoulders and face. “If you can be both prisoner and dragon…I am both knight and maiden.” His hands rested on the claw that hovered before his face, drawing it close, pressing his cheek to it. “I’m here to rescue you. I’m here to join you.”

“Angel…” The tip of the claw traced across his skin, sharp but gentle, and tucked a lock of hair behind Aziraphale’s ear. “You can’t…you can’t want that.”

“My dear Crowley. What more could I want? You are my friend, my trusted companion. The one being who…who makes me feel…myself. Who makes me feel that’s nothing to be ashamed of. Please, Crowley, let me do the same for you.”

The clawed hand opened, and suddenly Aziraphale stood on Crowley’s palm, every opalescent scale as big as his own hand. Nothing held him back now. He could jump. He could flee.

Instead, Aziraphale knelt down, armor melting into a shining silver gown, and curled up in the cup of Crowley’s hand as if it were the softest down bed in the world. Pressed his lips to the draconian palm. “Whatever form you take, you are the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.”

“Do you mean that?”

Aziraphale glanced up in time to see the dragon’s snout melting again, softening, re-shaping into a narrow face with high cheekbones; neither male nor female, human nor dragon; black scales traced back from a jaw too wide, golden eyes stared unblinking below a sharply sloped brow. The hands that clutched Aziraphale’s elbows were still tipped with sharp claws, and a bright red tongue – splitting into a charcoal-black fork – shot out to taste the air.

He smiled, taking Crowley’s face in his hands. “There you are! My darling…” Aziraphale kissed those thin lips, tasting their desert-dry heat, and felt trembling hands clutch at his hair.

“Angel…”

Aziraphale pressed close, hands tracing down Crowley’s sinuous, bare back, feeling the form shift under his touch – scales, soft skin, silky hair, hot, cold, always changing. Crowley’s tongue flicked down his neck, just to the neckline of his gown, questioning.

“Yes,” he whispered into Crowley’s ear. “Oh, yes, Crowley—”

The wagon bounced over a hole in the road, jostling all its contents, including an angel who had been more than a little lost in his thoughts. The rap of his skull against a barrel helped to clear his mind.

Aziraphale quickly tugged his tunic straight and ran his hands through his hair – cut short, as always, regardless of the current fashion – glancing furtively at the other travelers. Two men and an older woman had also hitched a lift to the nearest city. He felt certain they must somehow know what he had imagined, that somehow the intensity of the fantasy had projected itself into the air around them—

But, no, all three sat, arms folded, concerned only with their own thoughts and their own troubles.

Clearing his throat, Aziraphale settled back into the corner of the wagon, tugging up the hood of his undyed wool cloak to hide the flush of his cheeks.

He daydreamed far more often than he used to, particularly while traveling – and more and more often, his fantasies featured one particular being. Though they were rarely so complex. Not to mention so physical. His imagination had simply run away with him, as sometimes happened.

If he concentrated hard enough, he could still feel the grip on his shoulders, drawing him deeper into the embrace—

Oh, no. No, that was dangerous. Crowley would never agree to…oh, whatever that little fantasy had symbolized. A partnership of some kind.

Well, no that wasn’t true. Crowley had suggested a partnership…an Arrangement…once before. Dropped hints every time they met lately. Aziraphale had refused to even consider it, but perhaps…perhaps…the time had come to think again.

Not just yet. Better to consider such things in complete privacy. He took the fantasy and carefully wrapped it in soft cotton, tucking it into the hidden drawer of his mind where he kept his very favorite daydreams, to revisit at a more opportune moment. He would need something simpler to entertain him on the ride.

Aziraphale carefully selected another dream, well-worn from use, and his mind slowly filled with a little stone cottage in a forest glade, the sound of waves echoing from just out of sight, and a dark-robed figure with red hair dancing in the wind, picking blackberries from the bushes…

“There you are!” Aziraphale’s hands cupped Crowley’s face, hideous and twisted though it was, but he only smiled, so warmly, so guilelessly, that it broke Crowley’s heart all over again. “My darling…” The angel rose up on his toes to press full, plump lips to Crowley’s mouth, arms pulling the demon into an embrace so close, so tight, that clawed hands scrambled to reciprocate.

“Angel…” Crowley meant to kiss Aziraphale’s jaw, but the serpent tongue had a mind of its own, exploring his neck down to the opening of his gown, the swells and curves hidden underneath. Surely that would be the last straw; surely now Aziraphale would see Crowley was nothing more than a beast, a monster whose very presence defiled everything pure. Crowley waited for the rejection, for Aziraphale to struggle to get away—

“Yes,” the soft voice curled into Crowley’s ear, even as soft hands clutched at narrow hips. “Oh, yes, Crowley—”

He snapped awake, scrambling to keep his balance on the branch as the wind chilled his flushed skin.

That had…not been the dream he expected. Usually, after an attempted exorcism, he had bad dreams for a week.

Crowley had fallen asleep in a tree, after being driven out of the nearby village by an overzealous priest. It happened more often these days; the humans were becoming more aware, somehow, more able to see him for what he really was. He’d need to improve his disguise, work harder to fit in.

Work harder to be anything other than himself.

The one being who…who makes me feel…myself. Who makes me feel that’s nothing to be ashamed of.

“Easy for you,” he grumbled into the darkness. “You’re a blessed angel. You’re as bloody perfect as the day you were made. Why would you ever feel ashamed? And I’m – I’m just…”

Whatever form you take, you are the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.

He closed his eyes again, trying to catch that warmth, that feeling of acceptance, one more time. Not that Aziraphale actually felt that way, he’d rejected Crowley's idea for an Arrangement, cut him off any time he tried to even bring it up. But still…

Crowley drifted off to sleep, hoping he’d dream of Aziraphale again.

Thank you for reading! This one got WILDLY out of hand as I wrote, but in a good way, I suppose. More will be coming shortly, but if you liked it, please drop a comment here or on AO3!

Let me know if you want me to tag you on future chapters.

@angel-and-serpent

#good omens prime #ineffable husbands #monster crowley #genderfluid crowley #aziraphale and crowley #aziraphale #crowley #fairly tale retelling #asexual ineffable husbands #asexual aziraphale #asexual crowley #my writing #Dream a little dream #ao3 link #prompt fic

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