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sprnklersplashes · 2 months

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fic comissioned by @willofadeadgirl thank you for your generous donation to esims for gaza! to find out about commissioning a fic from me, the info is here

based on this idea I had a year (?) ago:

JD spiralling shortly after he and Veronica get engaged because he's scared to hurt her the way his dad hurt his mum. Claire is there to remind him that he's okay.

getting to delve back into nbr universe again and this relationship specifically was so rewarding and I also got to sprinkle in a bit of claire's backstory which is neat.

The party is amazing.

Claire has outdone herself. While JD was out with Veronica she single-handedly rearranged all of the tables and threw white rugs over the bare wooden floors. Then she either robbed a florist or had one owe her something, because they came back to the most amazing centrepiece on the dining room table, along with garlands of lilies and white roses hung around the doors and stairway. And of course, no function thrown by Claire Munroe is complete without food, and holy hell, did she deliver. When the party is for him and Veronica’s engagement, but all anyone can talk about is her espresso martini cheesecake, that’s how you know it’s a winner.

It’s wonderful. Although the event is small, a strict family and friends affair, the house feels alive, the two stories teeming with pure, unfiltered happiness. He couldn’t ask for anything better.

He hates himself. He really fucking hates himself.

With a bitter sigh, JD tosses the empty bottle he’d been fidgeting with. It crashes somewhere in the garden, followed shortly by a frantic rustling in the hedge. He might have just frightened the shit out of some poor raccoon.

And that thought should not scare him the way it does; shouldn’t cause the pit in his stomach to plunge deeper. He closes his eyes, locks every limb, pulls himself inward like he can ward off the thoughts invading his mind.

It was like someone had flipped a switch. One minute he was standing in the kitchen, his arm securely around Veronica’s waist, listening to her laughing and feeling like the night would never end. Then he went to the kitchen to get another drink and just like that, everything stopped. Once he wasn’t surrounded by bodies and the laughing and chatting was muted, the protective barrier dropped. Suddenly, all he could think about was the blood in his veins and where it came from, and then he was 8 again watching his mother wave at him through a window and then he was 9, 10, 11, 12 smashing plates to get his dad’s attention and he was 3, 4, 5 and 6 and 7 listening by the stairs because his dad was yelling again, again, and his mom wasn’t saying anything-.

And then he was running, and he was on his knees in the grass.

He lets out a steady exhale, white smoke stark against the night sky. Shadows blanket the garden; the greens of the grass and the rainbow hues of Claire’s flower bushes are smothered in greys. Behind him, the house is still glowing from within, gentle oranges making its own sunset in there. He doesn’t want it. He never wants to see it again.

With a cold pang, he hopes Claire never leaves the house to him. Some of the best memories of his life are in that house. It’s lovelier than he would ever deserve, and he would just ruin it like he will ruin Veronica and like his dad ruined him. Claire said she moved into that house alone and renovated it with her own bare hands. Giving it to him would feel wrong, backwards. What will he do other than destroy it? That’s what his hands were made for.

Breathe Jason a voice in his head says. He tries, opens his mouth but nothing comes in, because there’s barbed wire around his throat and his lungs and it hurts when he tries. He tries, and he chokes, and hot tears are racing down his cheeks and he bites his hand before he can start screaming. Breathe Jason.

I can’t! I can’t! The darkness presses in around him and it’s hot-since when was darkness hot? His dad’s voice-his voice-is roaring in his ears, it sounds like his dad but it scrapes his throat like its him and it’s burning. He needs to get out and-

“Hiding out here?”

Crap.

Trembling, JD turns around, squinting against the brightness. At first, all he can see is the small frame, the chunky knit sweater hanging off it. His eyes follow her as she comes over, but he looks away as she settles herself on the grass beside him.

“We miss you in there.” He nods, slowly. If he was still seventeen, he would shoot a sarcastic remark at her in the hopes that she would leave. But he knows better now. Or more accurately, the idea of her leaving pulls at a very specific part of his heart. So, while his instincts still protest, he lets her stay.

“Well I hope it wasn’t my lasagne that made you leave.” That gets a half-smile from him, even if it feels foreign on his face. Behind his back, he can feel her eyes bore into him. He used to think he could hide anything from anyone, and then he met her. “Jason? Everything okay?”

How does he answer? He takes a deep breath in, slowly. Pulls at the grass and lets it fall between his fingers. Listens to the pounding staccato rhythm of his heart.

“I just freaked out,” he mutters. Claire nods behind him and, carefully, as if he’s made of glass, places her hand on his shoulder.

“It’s okay,” she tells him. “I’m here.” He squeezes the grass in his hand. “Anything in particular freak you out?”

He doesn’t want to say it. He wants to keep it inside and find something to numb it. If it stays inside, he can freeze it, escape from it.

He can’t though. Because he’s come too far and owes Claire and Veronica too much. There’s only one good way out.

“My dad,” he whispers. Claire inhales sharply and her hand tenses against his back.

“Did he-did he try to-”

“No.” He cuts her off with a shake of his head. “No, he hasn’t contacted me.” Ever. He hasn’t heard from his father since 1984. He laughs, short and bitter. “I just can’t stop thinking about him. And my mom. And everything.”

“Oh kid,” Claire sighs. Her arm comes around his shoulders, her small frame presses into his side. “I’m so sorry.”

“And suddenly it was…. Everywhere.” He hears the tremble in his voice and he hates it. In that moment, he wonders why he ever stopped numbing himself. It made everything so much easier. He looks down at his hands. The ring Veronica gave him glimmers on his finger, silver winking in the half-light. He gives a self-deprecating scoff. “I don’t know how to be married. I don’t-I can’t be that to her.”

“You’ve been a pretty spectacular boyfriend so far,” Claire tells him matter-of-factly. “And from what I can tell, being married is just a longer version of that. That it’s you and her forever.” She squeezes his shoulder. “You’ve been with her three years and you haven’t messed up yet.”

“You don’t know that I won’t!” he tells her, voice rising sharply, and then everything spills out, a putrid ugly mess in front of them. “He’s my dad, Claire. I’m 50% him. My whole childhood I just sat and watched as he wore her down and she was hurting and I didn’t do anything about it! I just let him keep going and keep going until one day-” He closes his eyes. The library explodes behind his eyelids. When he opens them, he can still see the smoke. “What if it’s just a matter of time before I do it to her?” He looks back at the house. He can’t find her; she’s lost in a maze of other people.

“I might do something worse,” he says. The admission is broken and cracked on his tongue, terrified to step into the light. But it’s here.

“Oh, Jason,” Claire breathes. Her touch is gentle, loving, against his skin and part of him wants to shove it away and put as much distance between her and him as possible. He hates that he still feels that way, even as he leans into her touch.

“I know you were dealt such a bad hand with your dad,” she tells him. “But you are not him, Jason.”

“I’m his son.”

“And I’m my parents’ child,” Claire says firmly. “Do you think I’m anything like they are?”

That gets him. Like a lighthouse beacon, it cuts through the fog in his mind and catches him.

He’s never met Claire’s parents-his grandparents, he supposes. They know about him, but the contact never goes past the ‘To Claire and Jason’ on the annual Christmas guard. Claire won’t delve into the specifics, just that her parents wanted her to have a life she never intended to java. Years before he came into the picture, it came to a head over some argument and when she declared her intention to move out, they didn’t stop her.

They communicate via Christmas cards. When Claire’s dad was in hospital, she didn’t find out until weeks later.

So, his response is a small shake of his head. Claire is nothing like her parents and never will be. She is warm and loving and generous, she understands him without him having to say anything. How her parents created a person like her he will never understand.

“You’re not like your parents.”

“And you are not like your dad, Jason.”

“I am,” he mumbles. “I get angry. I think about… I think about running away.” He presses his thumb into his palm. “I pull away from her.”

“And then you go back,” Claire says. Slowly, her hand comes over his. Her skin is warm, her palm calloused and rough. “That’s what makes you different from your dad, JD. Your dad never cared about the damage he was causing. You do. You get knocked down and you get back up.” Her fingers curl around his. Startled, he squeezes her fingers. “Look how far you’ve come in the past few years. That’s something he never ever did.”

JD doesn’t know when the tears started but they’re here, running like rivers down his face.

“And to be honest, I’ve never seen a person love someone else the way you love Veronica. You love her like she’s the last person on Earth. You love her like you’d never love anyone else.”

Well, he wouldn’t. It’s just a plain fact to him. No matter what happens, Veronica exists and he’s in love with her. Simple as that really. After everything she has done for him, it feels like the least he can do.

“And,” Claire continues, reading his mind again. “Don’t you owe it to her to keep trying?” Before he can even respond, she scoots closer, rests her chin on his shoulder. “Maybe you owe it to yourself too.”

There. That’s when she does it, that magical thing where she looks inside him and pulls out something he never thought existed.

If he walks away now, he leaves Veronica at her own engagement party. He leaves her in the dust after promising to stand by her forever. And doing that to her… it hurts him more than anything else could.

He turns. Claire is still beside him, pressed against his side.

“Maybe I owe it to you too.” She smiles then, laugh lines creasing her face.

“You’ve never owed me anything, kid.”

(It isn’t true. He owes her more than he’ll ever be able to pay back. But that’s okay, she’s not expecting him to).

Looking out at their garden, he lowers his head onto her shoulder. It’s a little awkward because at some point he got taller than her, but neither of them mind. She rubs her hand up and down his arm and they sit there, listening to the muffled sounds of the party behind them.

“I love you,” he tells her. He doesn’t need to look up to see the way her face softens at that.

“I love you too, kid,” she whispers. She tugs on his arm. “Come on. If we hurry there may still be profiteroles left.”

JD laughs; the feeling is solid and warm in his chest. He offers Claire his arm and together, they walk back into their house.

Before he goes in, he gives it one last try. He breathes in. The air is cold and crisp and it fills his lungs. He breathes out, slow and steady, and the white smoke disappears into the orange porchlight. Claire squeezes his hand, firm and rough and more real than anything that came before.

He’ll be okay, he thinks. They’ll be okay.

#heathers the musical #jason dean #jdronica #oc: claire monroe #fic: not beyond repair.#there was meant to be a bit where he goes back in and smooches veronica in the middle of the room but i couldn't fit it in neatly #hope u like it moon <3

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gay-dorito-dust · 2 years

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I read like all your werewolf by night stuff and they were amazing. I need more jack Russell and just fell in love with him instantly. Okay enough with me rambling but if you dont mind can you write Jack with reader. And could be reader be thinking about #24 to Jack and think jack deserves better than them?

A/n: I’m very humbled that you like my werewolf by night stuff. I saw the lack of fics and decided to do something about it cuz that’s a crime to Jack Russell. So if anything I’m blessed with the ability to get to write for this character. He deserves it.🦦

Prompt list

Prompt 24- you deserve so much better then me.

‘He’s so beautiful it physically hurts.’ You thought to yourself as you looked down at Jack’s sleeping face, running your fingers through his hair as per your morning ritual, watching adoringly as his features were bathed in the soft golden glow of morning. You felt unworthy of a love as pure as Jack’s. You felt like a fraud, a fake, a deceiver of his trust even when you’ve kept his secret tightly to your chest as though it was your own.

You couldn’t pinpoint where these feelings came about but you were stuck with them either way and you had to deal with it. Never had you ever been given reason to doubt your relationship with Jack; He has been nothing less then kind, caring, attentive and overall the standard of what a romantic partner should be. You, on the other hand, only believed yourself to being selfish and taking advantage of the kindness given to you. Out of everyone Jack could’ve possibly chosen, he chose you and every day since then you’ve asked yourself why?

Why out of every possible suitor did his heart chose you? What made you special in comparison because each time you looked in a reflective surface of that a mirror or a river, you only saw boring, bland, you staring back. Your eyes didn’t hold stars within them, your smile didn’t beam brightly and you neither lighten up a whole room upon arrival nor made heads turn in your direction. You didn’t understand how Jack could look at you with unconditional love within his eyes and proudly hold your hand in his own without any ounce of shame of being seen with you. It didn’t make sense to you that someone like him could find you remotely attractive never less attractive.

Sensing that your hand had stopped stroking his hair, Jack opened a bleary eye, groaning softly, as he looked to see that your eyes were afar from reality as you were deeply lost in thought. Naturally he was less to believe something has been troubling you for awhile as he slept and he sat himself up against the headboard. “Y/n?” He said softly, knowing that by this time of day Ted was potentially making a mess out of your kitchen in an attempt of making you all tea. Another reasoning behind his choice in tone was that Jack didn’t want to alert his friend by raising his voice by raising his voice above a certain volume.Ted’s intentions towards many things were pure but due to his hulking mass of foliage and fungi, Ted was susceptible to causing accidental damage of his surroundings.

“Y/n.” Jack tired once again, this time making his voice loud enough to draw you back to the reality of your shared bedroom. “Nice to see that sleeping beauty has finally awakened.” You joked, going into press a kiss to his forehead only for him to move away, causing a twinge of pain in your chest. “Jack?” You asked, pulling away, rummaging through your head of what you had done in recent memory to earn that type of reaction. “What’s wrong?” You were worried that Jack had finally came to his sense and realised that you weren’t compatible with him and that he was going to admit in falling out of love with you. “I think I should be asking you that question,” Jack reached a hand to hold your cheek, stroking his thumb against the skin there almost reassuringly, “what’s wrong, you seem to be getting more and more lost in your thoughts nowadays. Let me help, you trust me right?”

“Of course I trust you Jack!” You cried, “I just…” your voice quietened gradually, “it’s…it’s stupid. Nothing worth you loosing sleep over.” Hurt by your hesitance to open up about your issues, Jack felt as though he wasn’t doing right by you as your partner in tackling your problems together and genuinely believed for the briefest of moments that you were falling out of love with him. “If it’s hurting you then it isn’t stupid, I’d rather lose all the sleep I could possibly get if it meant lifting the burden from your shoulders.” He says, resting his forehead against your own, closing his eyes, “when we entered a relationship together we agreed that whatever adversity we face, we face together. So let me fight by your side and rid you of your inner demons. For seeing you suffering in silence breaks my heart.” You brought your hands to hold his face, pushing your forehead against his own as you felt tears well behind your eyes.

“You deserve so much better then me Jack.” You finally admitted, not looking at him in fear of gauging his reaction, “I’m unworthy of being your friend never less your lover; Your soul is so full of light that I fear that one day I would only dampens it into extinction. I fear that one day you’d wake up and realise truth within my words and start looking elsewhere for someone who would look perfect right by your side, realise that in the end I wasn’t anything special.” Jack’s eyes seemed to shine with hurt and disbelief at your words that it only made you hate yourself even more if that was even possible. How could you dump your troubles onto the most genuine man you’ve been met, what gave you the privilege to do that to Jack? God you were so fucking selfish that you were borderline crying for reassurance that you didn’t fully deserve.

Jack didn’t want to believe what he was hearing. It felt wrong hearing such venom come from your mouth and aimed at yourself because to Jack every single word was absolutely false. The demons within your head was plaguing you and he couldn’t do anything about it. Jack knew it was near impossible for him to convey his every emotion through words, seeing as they’d only get him so far without gradually starting to sound repetitive and insincere. It frustrates him greatly that he didn’t take the signs he was seeing and piecing them together to see the full picture. How could he see so clearly yet after so blindsided.

“I don’t like it when you say things like that. To me,” Jack removed his hand from your cheek to lift your chin so that you were staring him in the eye, “you’re perfect. You truly don’t understand the extent of my feelings for you and I don’t think I do either as I find it difficult to even find the words to describe how you make me feel. In my eyes, you brighten up every room you’ve walked into, your eyes shine as though god plucked two of the brightest stars in the sky and placed them there. In my eyes, no one has a laugh as beautiful or as infectious as yours, no one has a heart as unique.” Jack placed a kiss to your cheeks, wiping away the tears there in the process as he smiled lovingly at you when he pulls away. “You wanna know why?” “Why?” You asked, desperate to know his innermost thoughts about you. However instead of words, Jack pressed a chaste kiss against your lips, pulling away just as you were about to reciprocate, “I love you so very much.”

Lost within your little moment, neither of you noticed Ted standing on the doorway of your room with two cutesy cups of tea within his significantly larger hands, not wanting to interrupt the scene before him but also not sure how to inform either of you that the tea was going to go cold.

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theosmommy1966 · 2 years

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SAALL

*So I have decided while yes, this little series will mostly be about Hermiones adventures with the Snakes, I orginally started writing the first part as a one shot with Mattheo. So there will be parts like this one that will highlight the reader and Mattheos relationship. Hope you all like it. There is a trigger warning for this one, gently mentions of SA and talk about mental health as well as some sexual scenes.*

TAGLIST:

@footballmusic19 @demonqueen153

PART 1

The next morning when Hermione opened her eyes, the world spun. Not the fun roller coaster kind of spin either, the kind that makes whatever happened to be in your stomach start to rise. It wasn't until she reclosed her eyes that she started to notice things. Things like the fact that the room she was in did not smell like her own. It smelled like OUD, and Jasmine, a smell that she couldn't even name but felt like she should be able to place.

The next thing was that the bed she was currently passed out in, was far too soft to be one of the gryffindor common room beds. The sheets were much too silky against her bare skin to be the ones she had previously spent 7 years sleeping in. The pillow she had her face buried in smelled of Jasmine as well, calming her crazed and confused mind as memories started to funnel back in.

Memories of the night before, where she had been drinking and dancing with people she spent years before hating. Slowly she allowed her eyes to open, a soft glow in a light purple color coming from a light plugged into the wall in the corner. Curtains had been pulled on the window that would normally flood the room with green light from the lake, eclipsing the room in darkness. She had no way to tell what time it actually was, but she found she was weirdly at ease.

As she sat up she turned to look behind her, remembering now that you had fallen asleep next to her the night before. Mattheo had practically carried you up the stairs as you giggled at Pansy who was being carried up by Theodore piggy back style. Draco had carried the small hufflepuff who had fallen asleep across Pansys lap, while Luna and Blaise trailed behind taking pictures. Hermione's favorite being the one of you reaching for Pansy and her reaching for you. Both of you were giggling while Mattheo tried to look annoyed.

She was confused when she found the spot empty and cold, but only for a moment as she looked around the room and found you. Mattheo had taken up residence on the large chaise lounge, telling Hermione to sleep in the bed. You had at some point in the night moved to lay on top of him, even though there was plenty of room on the almost bed sized lounge for both of you. Your arms were wrapped around his torso, your face buried in his neck as you slept soundly.

Hermione knew he had to be awake, because he had one hand in your hair and one lazily stroking your back. Mattheos' foot shook back and forth gently as he just laid there. It was another moment that showed Hermione he wasn't all that they said he was. He was painted as this psychopath who only cared about killing those who wronged him. But as she watched him stroke fingers gently and slowly up and down your spine, she realized they were wrong.

Sure she knew he was violent, and impulsive and scary, but she could now see that he cared too. Cared about those he loved so fiercely that to those on the outside it seemed possessive and toxic. But how could she see it as toxic now? Now that she had watched him care for not only you, but Luna so gently. Watched as he gave the group pills to keep them safe, watched over them while they danced or talked. He unwillingly took her into his group of friends and still treated her like she belonged there. Watched as he slept in a room that was clearly decorated by you, and slept with a nightlight?

Everything she thought she knew was changing. Mattheos voice broke her out of her thoughts, even though it was soft, so soft he wouldn't wake you up. "The nightlight is because we both have nightmares.. It's easier to clear your head after one when you can see where you are and who you are with." His voice was sharp even if it was soft in volume "You should go shower.. The girls always go out to brunch and shop after big parties, I'm sure you'll be drug along.. Y/n or Pansy will come find you in a bit." She watched you shift around a little, Mattheo holding both his hands out to the side as you moved before placing them back on you when you settled.

With a small smile, she removed herself from the bed. Panicking when she realized she was only in the shirt she had been wearing last night. "Your clothes from yesterday are on the nightstand." Mattheos voice said, and when Hermione spun around to look at him she realized his eyes were still closed. How in the world had he known what she was looking for? "I can read your mind.. Plus I'm pretty intelligent if I do say so.." His words were cut off by fingers landing on his mouth.

"Shh.." You said half asleep, your fingertips stayed over his lips as you had been too far asleep to actually cover his whole mouth. Either way a small smile found its way to his lips as Hermione left the room. As the door clicked shut, Mattheo kept his eyes closed focusing on your breathing waiting for the rhythm to fall back into the slow deep sleep. But when it didn't, and your thumb started to stroke against his jaw he knew you were awake. He gently kissed the finger tips that rested against his lips as the two of you slowly woke.

“I thought you were going to sleep next to your new friend?” He asked softly as he resumed stroking your back, when you didn't answer him though he used his free hand to grip your neck and pull you back from his shoulders. The glassy look in your eye was the same one you used to have often during the war. The one that told him you had slipped somewhere deep into your mind, the one place he couldn't follow you. All he could do now was try to pull your consciousness back, so he kept a firm grip on your neck. Not so tightly that it hurt, but firm enough to let you know he was holding you as he kissed your forehead. “It's time to come back, my love.. Whatever is wrong, I promise I'll fix it.”

You could hear him, you had just slipped into this weird place in your mind. A dark place that had been created as almost a safe haven during the war. During the time your father and Voldemort had tortured and imprisoned you. Somewhere your consciousness went to escape the pain of the cruciatus curse, the assaults by various death eaters, the pain from starvation and dehydration. In this place everything was muffled, the pain, the sounds around you, and feeling your body had. It was slightly scary when you were in your right mind to think about, but it was safe. Your therapist often called it dissociation.

As Mattheos free hand moved to your cheek to upturn your face completely to his he looked deeply, trying to see how far gone you were. The glassy look told him far enough, but there was still a lightness that gave him hope. The fact that you had just been touching him and kind of speaking helped as well. He could remember how scared he and the others had been when they found you. He didn't know what he expected after killing his father and rescuing you, but when he ran down to the dungeons and found you beaten and starved he didn't expect you to not speak for months.

It took months of therapy, both mental and physical for you to even start to recover. But he and the rest of the group walked the path right beside you. Every time you started to slip like this, there was someone there to hold you in place. Mattheo could only assume that a nightmare had put you in this place, and the only thing he could do was wait. He of course had learned a few tricks, ways to bring you back a little sooner, ways that only he could bring you back sooner. So he gently wrapped your legs around his waist and maneuvered with some difficulty off the lounge. Moving from a laying position to a standing one while gripping onto you was harder than he thought, but you were always worth it.

He made his way into the attached bathroom, and thanked his mother again for lying about his parentage. With both parents dead, all the Lestrange and Black money that had been laying around went to him. Meaning anything he wanted was his, he could buy the entire school if he wanted too. But for now he would settle on a huge suite with an almost equally sized bathroom. He set you on the counter, keeping himself standing between your legs as he removed his shirt from your shoulders. A brush quickly carded through your hair as he pulled it all to the top of your head, wrapping a scrunchy around it to bun it.

He wrapped you around him again, this time only having to wrap your legs around him as you kept your arms locked around his shoulders. Originally he was going to put you both through the shower, but figured maybe a bath would work better. He didn't want to have to worry about you falling and he couldn't really do what he needed to if he was holding you up the entire time. So he wrapped one arm under your butt and held on tightly so he could grab one of the boxes of what you called ‘bath goodies’. Propping himself on the edge of the extra large all black jetted bathtub, you were still seated in his lap as he turned the water on. Perfecting the temperature, and looking down at which box he had grabbed. Luna made and sold little box sets for different things, you bought (with his money) multiple different sets. This one being a lavender and milk spa set.

Two light purple bath bombs infused with powdered milk and crushed lavender go in first, fizzing and drawing your attention away from his neck. Next is the jar of Epsom salt, Himalayan salt, dead sea salt, oats and dried lavender. The water bubbling and turning a milky purple color as he turns to set you into the waiting warm water. The temperature being almost 107, right where you always wanted it, hot enough to pink your skin without having to tiptoe into it. Before stripping his sweats away he moved to light the candle Luna always included.

These were always made in the woods, under the moonlight she would tell people. Luna swore she infused her own magic into them, and sometimes Mattheo could agree. This was one of those times, because as he lit the candle that was infused with lavender essential oils, lavender buds and small amethyst crystals he heard you take a steadying breath. The tension in the air gives way to something slightly more relaxing. He lightly tells you to scoot forward and thankfully you do, allowing him to seat himself behind you. His arms encircling you, one around your waist the other around your shoulders as you lean your head back on his shoulder.

He heard and felt you take a deep breath and release it as he kissed the side of your head. You still haven't spoken or looked at him, just staring at the wall of Florentina arborose climbing roses. The wall at the back of the room was covered in them, a trellis covered in muggle flowers magically spelled to never die or wither. You had told him once that even though you didn't particularly like roses, preferring wildflowers, that this type was your favorite. And when you complained that the wall was boring to look at during baths he decided what better way to brighten it up than with flowers. He periodically would change them, sometimes to sunflowers or other seasonal things.

Slowly he reached for the scrubbing salt that was in the box he left sitting outside the tub. Scooping some into his fingers and rubbing it into your skin gently starting with your arm, working his way towards your chest. Doing both arms, your chest and back before rinsing, then slowly dragging his fingers down your sides. Letting them drag lightly over the sides and tops of your thighs before gripping them tightly, lifting one out of the water before repeating the scrubbing and rinsing process then doing the other.

When he lowered your left leg back into the water, he traced circles into the muscle of your thigh slowly, moving his fingers further up every few seconds. He watched your face, always scared to need to go so far to help pull you back. But it was something that had been talked about thoroughly, he knew what your boundaries were. The two of you had gone as far as to talk about this with your muggle therapist, who agreed that if it worked for you, and there was a high level of trust and good boundaries set that it was okay. But it was still something that always made Mattheo question if he was taking advantage.

But there wasn't anything he wouldn't do for you. He would push his own boundaries to try and make you feel safe, to try and pull you back before you got too deep, too lost in your own mind. So he let his hands do the work they needed to do, one hand massaging your thigh as the other came up to wrap around your throat. Not hard, not even enough to affect your breathing in any way, just enough for him to pull your body back and turn your head towards his. He needed to be able to watch you while this happened, it was the only thing that would get him through. He wouldn't kiss you until you asked, because that was the agreement. He wouldn't kiss you when you couldn't kiss him back.

He had argued with your therapist then, that if you were unable to kiss him that logically you were unable to tell him no. Which meant he shouldn't be doing anything in the first place. But she had explained to him that there were many different types of therapy that people used to get over sexual trauma, one of those being sexual acts themselves. But it was something that required such a high level of trust that many never had. It took hours and hours of planning, laying boundaries and a lot of talking. It had taken months for Mattheo to agree to trying.

And if he was honest it took watching you fall into a deep episode that resulted in you being hospitalized again. He didn't think he could watch you be taken in again, not if there was something he could do to help you before it got that far. He leaned his forehead against yours, tapping into the mark he had carved into your skin. The one that allowed him to know your emotions, to know when you were in danger. The one that told those who would try and harm you exactly who was coming for them. Mattheo remembered seeing the jagged cut of your initials on the death eaters and his father as he and the others cut them down.

He could feel the struggle you were going through as he watched you. Could feel you trying to pull yourself back as he lifted his hand towards your center. His fingers easily find your clit and pressing down while circling, your lips slightly part as your body tenses. Even in the dark space of your mind you can feel the ecstasy that being intimate with Mattheo always brings. When he pushes one finger into you, your eyes snap closed allowing the heavenly feeling his hands always brought to fill your mind. To slowly start pulling you back from the numbing emptiness you felt after you woke up. After thrusting his hand in slowly a few times you felt him add another finger, this time moaning softly when they curved upwards. He let go of your throat and brought his other hand down, circling two fingers around your clit as he pumped his other hand into your pussy faster.

“Theo..” You whispered as your breathing started to pick up, his forehead was still pressed against yours so even over the light sloshing of the water he could still hear you. “Yeah baby.. I'm right here. We are right here.. We`re ok, open your eyes..” You knew why he wanted you too.. Not only so he could watch as you came back into your mind but because he could make the experience better. Another plus to the magical bond the mark created between the two of you. He could access your feelings and make everything better on your side, which he says makes everything better on his side. So when you looked up at him, you gasped, because your body suddenly felt warmer.

Your thigh muscles clenched causing him to lean back, removing his hands from you just long enough to prop your legs up. He pinned them between his legs and the sides of the tub, not allowing you any room to wiggle away from him as he slammed his fingers back into you. This time with three instead of two, the other hand going back to rubbing your clit. “Tell me I can kiss you Y/n.. Tell me you're here..” He said in a desperate whisper, you knew how much this always scared him. How much he needed to be with you afterwards, it was one of the reasons the whole thing worked.

“Kiss me.. Please..” You whispered just before his lips slammed down onto yours. Your own hands moved, tangling into his hair as you kissed him back roughly. The soft whimper that escaped him only made your body hotter. Jolts of passion and love moved between the two of you as his fingers moved faster in and out of you. The pressure he puts on your clit changes between hard and soft while still keeping the pace even. Your hips buck up meeting his thrusts the best you can from your position as you feel the dark room shut away behind the door and lock itself. Your kisses were frantic, wet and sloppy but it didn't matter.

Mattheos fingers curled again to drag across the spot he knew would make you scream as you pulled back and looked towards the ceiling moans of his name leaving your mouth as his lips moved down your neck and over your shoulder. He couldn't reach the spot where his name was carved into your collar bone but he didnt care. From where he was he could see your face, hear your sounds and feel you clenching around him and that was all he needed. You were mesmerizing to him, like a drug no one else could have, a high that he couldn't reach without you. “Fucckk.. Mattheo.. Fuck please.” You begged pulling him away from his captivating thoughts.

“Cum for me, my love..” He whispered into your ear as he pinched your clit for just a second “I need you to cum for me..” He really did, it was something that used to embarrass him. He couldn't understand the possessed need he had to be the one to make you feel that way. The way his blood boiled at the thought of anyone else touching you or hearing you like he did now. He had never been in love before, never even liked someone past friends or someone to sleep with. But he was truly enamored with you, and he fought it for a long time because growing up he was told Riddles dont love, they aren't capable.

But here he is, begging you to cum on his fingers. Forcing your lips apart with his so his tongue can ravage your mouth, so he can taste you. It was funny because you had been called ‘Riddles whore’ when people started to notice the mark, when in all actuality he was a whore for you way more than you were for him. He had never been able to get off just from getting someone else off. Never before had he kissed someone just to do it. Or touched someone, gone down on someone just to make them feel good. But he often did it for you, he would find stupid reasons to taste you. Oh you passed a test, guess you deserve a reward..

Your thighs started to shake between his knees and the side of the tub. Your breathing light and breathy as you said his name and a string of curse words. The euphoric feeling Mattheo had been building between your thighs finally cresting and breaking apart. A moan left your lips that was almost a scream as you arched almost out of the water. Mattheos fingers slowing down enough to help you ride out the pleasure without hurting you. Moving you threw the delicious aftershocks with gentle circles to your clit and slow but deep thrusts of his fingers. The warm open mouth kisses he left on your shoulder and soft words of love and praise helped as well.

The two of you sat in the tub for fifteen more minutes before there was a knock at the door. “Hold on!” Mattheo shouts, standing from behind you as you reach forward to let the water out. When you stand and turn back two towels, and your robe are waiting on the counter. Mattheo had quickly wrapped one around his waist and made his way to the door, opening it just enough to be seen but not enough to allow entry into the room. He still didn't know how your day was going to go, most times you spent the entire day slipping in and out of that place. When he came face to face with an angry Pansy he stepped out of the room, not caring one bit that all he had on was a towel.

Pansys angry expression dropped noticing the action, and how he had looked back into the room before gently closing the door. “What's going on? Where Y/n? It's brunch time!” She whisper yelled at him, assuming that they had just showered together and that's why her best friend was running late. But the haunted look in Mattheos' eyes slowed her down as he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “She was gone again this morning.. I'm not sure why, I'm assuming a nightmare.. I won't be able to leave her alone today, Pans, you know that..”

She nodded looking back as Luna, Blaise, Hermione, Draco and Theodore all started their way down the hall, pausing once they noticed his attire. Draco quickly walked forward leaving the rest of the group behind, “Whats going on?” He said quietly as he looked between the two, sighing sadly when Pansy explained while Mattheo checked the room again. This time he opened it enough that all three of them could see you. You had wrapped your hair up, covered yourself in your robe and moved to sit legs crossed on the bed. Your eyes were looking down at your hands as you picked at the chipped polish. Draco and Pansys hearts squeezed, they hated seeing you like this, hated that there was very little they could do to make you feel better.

Draco looked back at the group, everyone looked concerned but Hermione looked confused. When he looked back to Mattheo he couldn't tell how his cousin was taking the little lion being there. While the war wasn't long, Harry Potter and his friends had still found ways to make Mattheos life harder during that time and before that. That hardship extended to you and Draco wasn't sure that Mattheo would allow Hermione to be around you in the state you were in. Normally everyone would skip class, hang out together outside the wizarding world. “Maybe we should go to New York for the weekend.. It's Saturday morning.. We could go to Clintons, she can get her favorite french toast. Then we can do some shopping as the girls, meet you guys in central park, have a picnic and you can pick up her favorites from Carlos Bakery..” Pansy said softly watching her best friend threw the crack in the door. “On the hand not holding out for Y/n, it might be good for Granger to see that the war affected all of us.”

Mattheo took a deep breath looking at the brown haired Gryffindor who offered him a small smile. He supposed Pansy was right, and past the new addition it was what normally happened in this situation. Whether it was New York, New Orleans, LA, or some other big city that almost always happened to be in the USA. It was so far away from the wizarding world that they grew up in that it was like being free. They had all even talked about moving there after graduation. “Sure.. Let me just.. Let me get Y/n ready.. Give me 30 yeah?” After the two nodded, Mattheo slipped back into his room and shut the door.

Draco and Pansy walked back towards the group who all waited questions hanging in the air. Pansy spoke first “Seems like we are going on a group trip for the weekend.. Go pack a bag, we are headed to New York.” They all nodded, except for Hermione, but Theodore spoke “Is Y/n ok? Or did you catch them at a bad time?” He asked, trying to lighten the mood even though he already knew the answer. Mattheo never stopped what he was doing with you to answer the door, he simply screamed to go away. Or made it so you started screaming and the point was made either way. So his appearance in the hall gave all the Slytherins the answer they needed. Luna hadn't been around for one of your slips yet. She really hadn't been around for one of Dracos, as his were few and far between.

“She slipped back again.. I'm assuming because he was willing to leave her side long enough to even come out of the room that she's as ok as she can be right now.. But we are changing plans.” Draco said, crossing his arms “Let's all go pack, meet downstairs in twenty.” They all nodded and went their separate ways but Hermione stayed with Draco. The two walked back towards his room since she hadn't gotten the courage to go back to her own dorm. “We will just buy you some things while we are out. That way you don't have to get bombarded before we leave.” Draco said stiffly as he started packing his own bag. Hermione nodded even though his back was too her. Her voice was small and almost meek when she spoke, she didn't know how much she would be privy too. It was clear by Mattheos' face when he looked at her that he was unsure of her presence. “What did you mean when you said Y/n slipped? She seemed ok when I left this morning.”

Draco sighed and turned to face her, he knew this wasn't his story to tell, but he also knew you were barely able to think about what happened, let alone tell someone. “The war changed all of us… Some more than others. Everyone always thought that because Y/n is with Mattheo that it meant she was safe from the Dark Lord. When really it just put a bigger target on her back, at one point towards the end of the war, she was kidnapped. They had her for six months, I won't tell you what happened but you can use your imagination then multiply it by ten and you'll maybe be close. She was basically dead when we finally found her, she spent months in the hospital and about the same amount of time in a muggle mental health facility. She's better now, gets better every day but still has slip ups. Where she falls back into a dark place in her mind, where only Mattheo can reach her. And sometimes not even then, we have had to take her back to that facility more times than any of us like to think about and it's only been two years.”

Hermiones heart broke listening and imagining the horrible things that had happened. He was right, they had all assumed because of who you were and who you were with that you were safe. None of them would have even thought that something like this happened. Her next words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, “Were you all hurt?” Draco chuckled humorlessly, “We were all punished in one way or another, Granger.”

Back in your room, you watched as Mattheo pulled on boxers and jeans. A black t shirt covered his scared chest as he tossed a sweater onto the end of the bed. He temporarily disappeared from sight, causing your heart to race, before he reappeared with lotion and a comb. He sat behind you as he gently brushed your hair out then french braiding it down your back. He kissed your neck before moving to kneel in front of you, the lavender scented lotion that was the last thing from the spa box in his hand. He gently started massaging it into your skin as he spoke softly to you, like he was afraid to startle you. “I talked to Pansy and Draco.. We thought it would be fun to go to New York for the weekend.. Hermiones obviously never been on a trip with us but we can see how it goes.” He kissed your left ankle before looking up at you and moving to the other leg.

“They don't have to.. I don't want to burden everyone..” Your voice was small and shaky, in a tone that broke his heart and pissed him off. He wasn't pissed off at you of course, it made him want to resurrect those who had hurt you and kill them again, but slower. He shook his head with a small smile, this time kissing the inside of your right thigh before standing up. He pulls you so that you're standing in front of him before he speaks again “Darling, you are never a burden to us. We do the same thing when Pans has a bad day. We all sit around and get high when Teddy has one. Or drink and play quidditch, which isn't smart, when Zucchini has one. We all go to the beach when Draco slips back. Its what family does, you and Pansy just like to spend more money while we do it.” Mattheos smile widens when you giggle lightly and lean against his chest. He knows its his use of your ridiculous nicknames for Blaise and Theodore, which is exactly why he used them.

Leaning down and kissing you gently, holding your cheeks in both his hands he opens the bond and allows all the love he feels for you to fill your body. He can literally feel your cheeks heat under his touch as he pulls away. “I love you Y/n.. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you. Now let's get dressed, I'm hungry.”

#mattheo riddle #theodore nott #slytherin #draco malfoy #theo nott #mattheo riddle imagine #slytherin x reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x reader

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theknightmarket · 1 year

Note

Howdy, if you don’t mind can I have some gender affirmation with either Google, Dark, or Engineer?

I’m not sure if my parents would support me as genderfluid and if you’d like can you use she/he/they and use more masculine terms (prince, handsome etc.)

"You're the most handsome person I've ever seen."

In which Google helps a gender-fluid partner.

TW: None

Pages: 8 – Words: 3,500

[Requests: OPEN]

Ever since Google had been activated, going through the routine checks has been awkward, to say the least. Making sure that code reached where it should and all the wires and boards were okay was a lot easier on your mind when the place you were digging through wasn’t simulating breathing – now, not only was the chest moving up and down at a steady pace, but glowing rings of blue also watched ever twitch or shift of your hand. You couldn’t blame him, it was his cavity you were fiddling with, but you just wished that he’d look somewhere else when you were doing it.

After a good ten minutes of him not redirecting his attention, you retracted your gloved fingers, trailing a small pair of tweezers, out of the box and into your lap again. A normal surgeon would have placed it onto a plate, but Google’s stomach was sterile and clear of any fluids, so you just threw it back into your toolbox. Like always, a hand darted in afterwards to readjust where it had landed. You rolled your eyes but let Google do so anyway. Who were you to stop him when you’d take advantage the next time you had to check him?

As he shuffled through your tools, you pushed back in your swiveling chair. It pushed your desk back slightly at the contact, landing you right in front of your setup; a laptop, mug of probably-now-cold coffee, and a half-uneaten sandwich that was supposed to be your breakfast. Eh, you’d save it for later, maybe lunch if you were hungry by then.

The only other thing that was set on your desk was an old mirror from back when you were a kid. It was the single thing that you had saved from moving out of your parents’, and the only reason you did was because of all the memories kept inside of it, like a little time-capsule that only you could see inside. The times that you glamoured yourself up with your mom’s beauty-kit, the dozen-more that you stole your father’s buzzer to pretend you had a beard, and the once or twice that you cut your own hair. Those had garnered a visit to the hairdressers because you were 8 and obviously unskilled. You couldn’t count on two hands the number of styles you’d gone through, and, even now, as you stared into the slightly dusty surface of the mirror, you weren’t content. Disappointment fell out of you in the form of a sigh, and you tilted the metal frame away from you.

“Is anything wrong?”

You perked up in your chair at the sound of Google’s smooth timbre. Whoever chose that voice sure did know what they were doing, and you had to commend yourself on the eyeball aspect, the very same that were looking at you with a concerned expression.

Running a hand over your head, you replied, “I’m thinking of getting my hair cut.”

Google’s response was quick, as was him marching to stand in front of you. He tilted his head to the side – a quirk he had picked up from a movie session to teach him about emotions that unfortunately ended with Airbud – and pointed out, “Your last visit was on September 28th at 3:07 PM.”

“So?”

There was a pause and then he pushed, “That was two weeks ago.”

You didn’t want to admit it, but he was right. Plus, it would be a waste of time if you were going to get it changed a couple weeks over, anyway. Almost shamefully, you sighed, “Thanks for reminding me,” before opening up your laptop to the home screen. Might as well get some work done to get your mind off it.

However, Google spoke up as you were typing in the password, catching your attention. “Although, if you believe that it will make you more comfortable, the positives out way the negatives.”

Glancing up, you saw the android sitting on a stool next to your desk, the swirling of his irises bringing you confusion. It was normally a sign that he was looking something up, or accessing his data bank for a prior instruction, neither of which you had prompted him to do. This left you raising an eyebrow and wanting to delve into his code to find this new bug. Maybe it was a feature of his autonomy, you could only assume so when he started to speak again.

“The most suitable appointment for you would be at 10:30 AM on October 15th at Orlando’s Parlor. This would allow for an hour-long period between the meeting with David Martial and breakfast with Maria Laine, with a fifteen-minute journey from—”

“Hold on, Google,” you laughed tiredly. None of that information went into your head, and, luckily, it didn’t have to. “I’m not going to book an appointment.”

“Your previous statement implied—”

“I know!” you cut him off again, which you could see was getting on his nerves if the bending of his eyebrows was anything to go from. “You said it yourself, I just had one, and I’m gonna be swamped with work for the next couple days.” You rose from your seat and patted his thigh as you left for the door. Absentmindedly, you called back to him, “And don’t worry about the breakfast, she got sick with the flu, so it’s been taken off.”

With that, you let the door swing closed behind you, leaving Google sitting in the room with a single question and two choices on how to solve it on his mind.

The click of your cart along tiles was oddly comforting as you pushed it along the supermarket’s floor. Outside of the stress and duties of your now day-to-day life, doing chores seemed like a godsend. The people around you didn’t have to deal with stuffy directors or life-changing androids living in your old garage. You loved Google to death, but you couldn’t deny that it was nice to be simple for once.

Skimming the aisles like a lazy tiger, you picked up anything that you would need for the coming week. With all the meetings you’d be rushing to, you didn’t have time to make dinner each night, so microwaved meals would have to do. Google didn’t eat, anyways, but you appreciated him sitting with you at the table, even when he had a particularly interesting crossword puzzle to get to. You chucked to yourself, no doubt receiving odd looks from civilians, as you compared him to the little ladies who sat outside the local tearoom. Surprisingly, they might just get along if you gave them ample fodder.

But that was a subject for another time. Right now, you were drawing close to the end of your shopping list, as well as the supermarket itself, where the cashiers were situated. For the last few weeks, the self-checkout machines had been busted, and, no matter how many times you offered to fix them, you were always denied for legal purposes. So, that left you and the rest of the shoppers making awkward conversation with the people serving you, hoping that they’d scan a little bit faster just so you could stop hearing about their tabby-cat!

You grimaced, spotting the very same person who constantly lectured you about Alexander at the head of one of the lines – though it seemed life took pity on you in that moment, as you were directed towards somebody you knew and actually liked.

You unloaded your cart onto the track, each item standing straight and then immediately collapsing, much to your chagrin. When you reached the end of your stock, you stood by the cashier and waited.

“So, what’s it today?”

To anyone unaware, Lance may have appeared as, quite frankly, terrifying. He was a big, muscled dude-bro, with the cliché backwards cap and tattoos lining his arms. You were surprised he had a birth certificate and wasn’t ripped directly from 90s style coming-of-age movies. He looked the epitome of the name ‘Chad’, and, yeah, his style of speech might have suggested that. On the other hand, the first meaningful conversation you’d had with Lance led you a very different way.

Lance was a sweetheart, a complete 180 from how he was physically. His voice was gruff, but he had been the one to teach you how to sew and – Jesus – his hands were soft, but you were getting off-topic. Either way, he was a nice guy, and he had just asked you a question.

Trying to laugh off your slight hesitation, you answered, “I’m feeling… masculine, I think?”

Lance nodded and resumed scanning. You’d give him a call later, catch up on how the family’s been when you got the chance. A busy life meant you had no time for a social one – and that was partially why you enjoyed being with Google so much. You could be working for hours on end, and he’d only give you trouble when he thought you were overworking, and, even then, it was no more than a nudge and a stern look. He stuck with you while you went about your business, staying in the background and fiddling with anything that caught his eye. It was always a pleasant feeling when someone stayed, and for that someone to be an android like him? It was nothing short of amazing.

When Lance had finished sending everything your way to pack into spare bags, you waved him goodbye and heard him mutter a small, “Have a good day, sir,” as you exited through the sliding doors. A little pep in your step, you made it to your car.

“Google!” you yelled, closing the front door behind you. He has free reign of the house, regardless of whether you were home or not, though he often preferred to stay in the study where you worked. When you received no answer, you assumed he was there.

You practically danced down the hallway towards the room, trailing a hand along the wall and feeling the grooves of the paper on your fingertips. The music reached your ears before you were fully aware that you were the one humming, but you continued anyway, until you reached the study.

Too caught up in the moment, you forgot your normal knocking and twisted the handle. Scrambling, clanging, something crashing to the ground – your lopsided grin melted into concern as you pushed the door open, now more out of fear than excitement, which then shifted into furrowed eyebrows and confusion when you saw what was before you. A set of wires pulled out of the sockets splayed across the floor was the first thing you noticed, then a pair of scissors lodged in the metal of your desk, and, finally, Google himself, collapsed across the ground like a baby giraffe.

His name fleeing your mouth as you rushed to his side, you thought about what you should do. First, check how he feels, then figure out if anything was physically wrong, and then maybe you’d have time to ask what the hell happened.

You dropped next to him and hoisted him into sitting up straight with one hand; the other scrambled frantically for your toolkit, which had, luckily, not been put away yet. Your mouth ran on autopilot, asking him question after question without giving him space to answer. Meanwhile, your own thoughts converged on you – you should have been more careful with him, you shouldn’t have let him around scissors, maybe you should move him to another room where he can’t get hurt—

It was only Google’s cold hand that snapped you back to the moment at hand, quickly followed by his concerned gaze. You could have laughed considering he had been the one to fall, but you merely nodded gently that you were alright, and went about checking over his circuits and heels, for fear that it was a balance issue. Google, was, after all, pretty bulky for a machine.

When the rudimentary checks had been passed, a stable mindset returned to you, and you managed to finally look up to him. Now that the fear had been washed away, Google himself swapped his priorly-worried expression for a more sheepish one. This had you raising an eyebrow. Why would he of all people be embarrassed? You weren’t even sure you had programmed that emotion in, and, yet, there you were, kneeling beside the very android who sported a shimmering blue ‘blush’ along the metal bridge of his nose. An exciting discovery, sure, but one that had you confused rather than zealous.

“Google?” you mumbled, applying concussion-protocol to a damn robot, “What were you doing before I came in here?”

The blush deepened and spread to the rest of his face like a virus, but that wasn’t the only development found in that moment. Instead, alongside the whole blushing thing, was both a weird and amusing show.

Google tried to lie.

“I was… well, you see, I was trying to, uh,” the sound of fans whirring faster and faster, so fast that you though they’d shoot out of his chest, met your ears, “There was—well, I remembered an order that I, eh, failed to complete before and thought I might…”

As much as you loved to tease Google when the time was right, this was not such a time, and you were pretty sure those fans were going to shatter if you didn’t stop him soon. So, with a soft smile on your face, you shifted into a more comfortable position and patted Google’s thigh.

“You know, you don’t have to lie to me,” you spoke gently, “if you don’t want to tell me, it’s fine, I just don’t want you hurting yourself over it.”

There must have been something in your words – the tone of your voice or the way that you looked at him – that had him reconsidering this whole deceit nonsense. It wasn’t anything big anyway, but there was the quiet fear that you wouldn’t be happy with what he was doing that knocked at the back of his mind. This was something he wanted to do for you, and, although he would accept it if you denied him, he couldn’t say he would be apathetic. It was a thing he expressed often, or lack of a thing, but he wanted to do something special for you to show you how he felt. Words weren’t his forté, but actions? He could do actions.

“Do I have your permission to blindfold you?”

If you were an android, you would have short-circuited. A little humor for a situation that sent your heart attacking your ribcage like a feral dog, you could do little else than nod slightly and let Google lift you up by the arms and guide you towards your spinning chair. You sat with a blush of your own steadily sprawling across your face while he inspected the room. When he had found what he was looking for – an old rag you’d only used for cleaning dust – he returned to you and pulled it taught over your eyes.

“Apologies, dear, but you mustn’t see.”

Briefly, you nodded, and, within seconds, the light was covered by total blackness, with only the occasional flicker of gray at the edges of the fabric. It wasn’t uncomfortable by any means, but you couldn’t help some anxiety when Google’s presence faded away. Your main sense removed, you relied on your ears to understand that he was stepping away towards the discarded pair of scissors. This set off a rational amount of alarm bells, though you calmed yourself with deep breaths; you could trust Google, you did trust him. If he wanted to go all robo-apocalypse on you, he wouldn’t have asked permission.

So, as calmly as possible, you stayed there and listened to his movements. He stepped closer, then stepped away, then closer again, he seemed like he was nervous about his actions, but, in your blinded state, you could do no more than stick out a thumb to assure him. It was when the whirring of Google’s chest picked up that you felt something shift. A tendril of your hair skimmed the back of your neck, sending you forward slightly from the shock. The fans whirred louder, an unconscious question of which you answered with a small laugh and nod. Confidence brewing with every second, he continued his work.

Without the distractions that came with sight, you were forced to think for the moments that you were blindfolded. Most of it was, admittedly, about what adjustments you’d have to make to Google for him to be safe. You loved the android and you wanted to give him as much choice as possible, but it was harder to be okay with his being alone when there were so many dangers in the lab. Maybe you should suggest he stay upstairs for the time being? It was much more comfortable with all the cushions and rugs, in contrast to the mass amounts of countertops jutting out of the walls here – and you’d get to see him in your downtime, show him some of your favorite hobbies.

Oh, but would he enjoy it? He liked to stay in the study, that much was certain after the first couple months of autonomy, even though you had yet to figure out exactly why he preferred it. If you could find out what is what, then you could either remove it from the lounging space or mimic it there depending on the reason, unless it was something that you couldn’t change, in which case it would all be futile—

A cold hand, a humming chest, soft words whispered to you, “Are you alright?”

You took a deep breath; you trusted Google. He would be fine alone down here. It was probably just a one-off thing that wouldn’t hurt him in the first place.

With that thought, your mind drifted off into simpler things. A few strays contributed to the night’s dinner and movie, a couple more to calling Lance, but the majority wondered what your beloved robot was doing behind you. His metal feet had stayed there for the better half of an hour so far, making you think what exactly was keeping his attention for so long. Your hair swept side to side in an irregular fashion, though Google’s touch was so, surprisingly, light that it felt like the wind. Was he watching something? Just playing? And why did you have to be blindfolded in the first place?

All of these questions and more came to effect when the fabric twisted and moved. Like a child on Christmas morning, a giddy feeling overcame you when you were greeted, once again, by the look of your study. It was entirely unchanged, and you were given a wider view to the indifference when you were spun around to face your desk.

That giddiness was replaced entirely by shock, followed by a minute of pure awe as you fiddled with the strands of your hair. You didn’t know how to describe it, but there was a stark difference between now and before. The texture was the same, a few hairs had been lifted and some removed entirely, but there was… something. Something that felt safe and good, and, frankly, correct.

“What do you think?”

You leapt out of your chair without a second thought and wrapped your arms around Google’s shoulders. He looked surprised, the lights in his eyes beaming slightly brighter for a second, before they returned to a pleasant shade of blue. He patted your back tenderly and held you tighter in relief.

Grinning, you answered, “I love it!” You pulled away for a second to plant a kiss on his cheek. “What do you think?

Your feet barely scraped the ground, dangled in the air by Google’s hold, but he still managed to curl a hand around your jawline. “I think that you’re the most handsome person I’ve ever seen.”

The blush that swallowed you was incessant, though you were able to lay another kiss on his lips for the compliment. This was before he swept you up in his arms again and manually moved you towards the door. “Come on,” he spoke bluntly, like he had already explained to you what was happening. When he looked down to your confused expression, he continued, “My primary objective is to make you feel comfortable. Today, I am doing that,” his eyes darted over yours, as if searching for a preemptive reaction before finishing, “my prince.”

And just like that, you could see the day before you. You ended up at dozens of clothing stores, bars, food trucks throughout the day to the point that you weren’t sure if this was a memory yet. However, no matter what had happened, will have happened, is happening, you felt safe and comfortable with the thought that things would be just a bit better from now on in your heart.

[Sorry this took so long, and it’s shorter than normal so I might also write this prompt for Dark and Engineer later, but for now, I hope you’re okay. Also, I completely get the whole parent thing; I, myself, am non-binary, and I was sure my parents would not be okay with me, but I told them in a letter, left the house for a bit, and came home to a hug. So, you never know, but if you truly don’t feel like coming out to them, it’s fine! Just know that the internet will always be there for you, no matter what!]

#google #theknightmarket #fanfiction #markiplier egos #markiplier #markiplier egos x reader #writing #one shots #x reader #request #google x reader #markiplier google

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catsafarithewriter · 8 months

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A/N: PART 32 of the Bedlam au! Not too late either!

As they approach the castle tower door, Toto shrinks down and lands on Haru's shoulder. "This could be a trap," he says

"I'd honestly be surprised if it wasn't one," Haru replies. She gives the door a gentle nudge. It's not accompanied by any explosions or monsters or buckets falling down from above, so that's a fairly auspicious start, at least. Even so, the interior is definitely not what Haru expected.

Toto peers into the dungeon-esque lit corridor. "Well," he says after a dubious beat, "he's certainly done his research."

Pale stone walls stretch out before them, gritted and rough-hewn, and the floor beneath is earthen, scattered with sand. Haru's encountered these walls only once in her life, but the memory has stuck with her, over a decade later.

"You know, the Cat King cheated with his maze!" Haru hollers, hoping – assuming – the Bedlam is listening in. "This doesn't exactly install me with a lot of confidence that you're gonna play fairly!"

"Were you in any doubt that he was going to cheat?" Toto asks as Haru steps gingerly into the building.

"No, but it was nice to dream." Haru comes to a fork in the corridor, and picks the one the orb's string trails off into. There are no torches or lamps, but the interior is lit with a gentle, omnipresent glow. It would be almost pleasingly atmospheric if it weren't for the ominous rumble in the distance.

Haru tries not to think about the kind of monsters labyrinths are usually occupied by.

"Haru," Toto begins, "about what happened back with Baron..."

Haru takes a left and waits for Toto to finish the sentence.

"He didn't tell us what he'd done until later. If he had... well, I'm not sure he'd have listened, but we'd have tried to stop him."

"And when he did finally tell you?"

"We gave him an earful – both Muta and I."

Haru chuckles. She glances through an open door on her right and passes it by. "And I thought the only way you and Muta would ever agree on anything would be if you were Bedlam puppets. Should I be worried?"

"There aren't many things we put our bickering aside for," Toto admits, "but you are one of them. While Muta distracted Baron, I came to check on you. I saw you vanish into the Bedlam's world, followed after you, and... well, I wasn't quite so helpful as I'd hoped."

Haru recalls the first crack in the Bedlam's world, of his strange distraction all those days ago and Other Hiromi's sudden warning. "You were more helpful than I think you know," she says. "I think you unintentionally gave me the first heads up that not everything was as it seemed."

They delve deeper into the maze; there's no way all this could possibly fit in the castle tower, but Haru doubts the Bedlam cares much for things like physics.

"Do you wish it had been real?" Toto asks suddenly. The question itself is abrupt, seemingly out of nowhere, but his voice is soft. Almost as if he doesn't want the answer. "The Bedlam and his world?"

"It's kind of moot," Haru replies. "Turns out it wasn't real."

"But if it had been?"

Haru falters. She turns her head aside, throwing her gaze down an open door to one side. "I... It's..." Her eyes widen. "There's someone in there."

"Haru–"

But before he can impart another plea for caution, Haru has slipped inside. She only makes it a handful of steps before she freezes. She makes a motion with her hand, as if searching for something to steady her, and in the end has to use Baron's cane.

"No..."

"He couldn't work out what was wrong with her," Toto says gently. He hops carefully down onto the hand holding the cane, his gaze drawn irrevocably to the abandoned puppet. "Why she went... off script, as it were and attempted to warn you away. In the end, he discarded her, but I never knew where to until..."

"Hiromi..."

"She was only ever a puppet–"

"And you were only ever a stone statue," Haru shoots back. "If we're splitting hairs."

"The Bedlam created her because he knew your attachment to the real Hiromi would draw you deeper into his world."

Haru waves him off her, and crumples down to kneel beside the remains of Other Hiromi.

The puppet lies like a discarded rag doll, slumped in the corner and with unseeing button eyes. Half her right leg is missing, and the open wound reveals her to be made of nothing more than cobwebs. Like macabre stuffing.

"Haru, we need to go," Toto prompts softly. "Muta and Baron–"

"I know!" she retorts. "Trust me, I know! I just need... I need a moment, okay?" Other Hiromi had been absent since her initial warning, but Haru had only thought... had believed it had simply been due to her own busy schedule. She'd never imagined...

Shakily, she tucks Baron's cane in Other Hiromi's lifeless hands. Even her fingers feel like that of a stuffed doll, all pretence at life discarded.

"What are you–"

"She'll need it if she ever wakes up," Haru says. She doesn't mean to, but her voice quavers. She isn't sure if it is that, or the clear stubbornness which causes Toto to back down. It will be enough, Haru thinks. It has to be.

She rises uneasily back to her feet – if Toto thinks it would be easier if she still had the cane, he's wise enough not to comment – and collects back up the remains of Baron's hat and the silk orb. And as she steps out into the corridor, the peace is shattered by the arrival of what had once been Other Muta.

#bedlam au #cat writes #yes i could skip a day but i know what im like #skip one and i'll skip another real easily

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run-me-through-but-not-like-that · 2 years

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Four's a Charm Chapter 14

Read here or on Ao3:

Chapter 14. A (Literal) Fuckery (NSFW)

The fireplace, which Izzy was still advising against lighting at all, was lit. Warming the captain's cabin and casting a cosy glow. On the settee, you were sat, curled up against Stede's side as he read to you. You lazily followed along with the words in the book but were far more focused on his voice. While his voice was calming, emerged in the fictional world of the novel, you couldn't help the way your mind kept drifting from the story.

You tilted your chin up to watch Stede's face, watching how his eyes scanned over the words on the pages as he read with conviction, lost in his own little world. You couldn't help but smile whenever he wore the glasses that were currently perched on the bridge of his nose. He looked so charming. So domestic.

"Stede?" you asked softly, lifting your hand to cup his cheek and turn his face towards you.

Stede followed your guidance without protest, voice fading out as he finished the sentence he had been reading. "Is something wrong, darling?" he frowned a little.

You smiled at his concern but shook your head, pushing yourself up just enough to press your lips to his. He returned your kiss instantly, eyes fluttering shut. Without pulling away from you, he closed his book and blindly placed it down beside him. His, now free, hand coming up to tenderly caress your cheek.

His hair was ridiculously soft as you ran your fingers through it. It was Stede who deepened the kiss then, running his tongue along your bottom lip until your lips parted willingly. Somehow managing to pull you even closer than you already were. Slipping your arms around his neck, you managed to find yourself in his lap, knees planted on either side of his hips while his free arm circled around your waist.

Stede broke the kiss with a bright smile, pushing your hair out of your face. "Oh, I was so worried that Lucius' interruption had put you off the idea completely," he confessed, chest rising and falling a littler heavier than usual, his face flushed but his smile perfectly happy.

You couldn't help but let a little fond laugh escape you, he could be so sweet. "Think it threw us all off a little, especially Izzy," you explained, recalling how jumpy Izzy had been recently.

"Ed and I talked, we didn't think we should push. You had both seemed embarrassed," his hands soothed up and down your sides.

"Yeah, because I knew Lucius was going to question be about it later," you chuckled before assuring him, "but I wasn't embarrassed about anything else."

"Well...perhaps we could try again?" Stede suggested as you mindlessly played with the ends of his hair. It had grown some since he first left for the sea.

"Funnily enough, I was going to suggest the same thing," you smiled, leaning down to give him a sweet kiss. "You going to get all bossy again?" you asked jokingly. You couldn't help but tease a little bit, "didn't think you'd take the lead like that."

Stede blushed a little at the memory but didn't seem in anyway deterred, "why not?"

You opened your mouth to answer but quickly closed it again. "...it would sound mean," you confessed quietly, dropping your forehead to his shoulder.

"I'm sure you have no ill intent," Stede reassured, one hand rubbing up and down your back.

"I mean...other than your wife, Ed is the only person you've been with, and well...you get it," you answered vaguely, but he got the idea.

You heard Stede's small hum of consideration. He wasn't offended, you realised. He supposed it was a fair assumption, one that wasn't completely incorrect either. "I think I've come a long way in that short amount of time," he insisted, making you laugh into his shoulder before sitting up properly again. "Plus, I thought a little guidance might be helpful. Sometimes I feel that giving Izzy direction takes away his worries, lets him just act," he added.

You nodded, understanding what he was saying. Izzy had a way of talking himself out of the things he wanted, getting into his own head too much. Though, you didn't think that had to be Stede's responsibility, even if it was very thoughtful of him.

"You don't have to take control like that if you don't want too. I think the same about Izzy, it's something he'll have to work on, and he'll have us to help him," you wrapped one of his little curls around your index finger before releasing it. "I actually think it might be best to...forgo the scene setting and directions. You know...just let things happen. Everyone just does what feels right," you suggested.

"That sounds like a wonderful idea, darling. Perhaps we should give it a try again tonight?" the way Stede's eye lit up would have been adorable if he wasn't talking about getting Ed and Izzy into bed. Who were you kissing? It was still adorable.

"What do you suggest?" you asked with a smile, watching his mind work.

"We'll have dinner and then a drink, nothing too formal, and we'll...seduce them!" Stede exclaimed excitedly and you couldn't help but laugh.

"Like a fuckery...a literal fuckery?" you mused, raising an eyebrow at him.

"I suppose so, yes. I don't suppose it will be too difficult," he hummed, face flushing slightly. "Hm, I might ask Roach to make some amendments for dinner. Perhaps some more sweets. Oh, and the good brandy!" he thought out loud, just filling you with a feeling of fondness.

"Alright, yeah, let's do it. Let's seduce out boyfriends," you agreed with a laugh.

Stede smiled brightly up at you once again, bringing one hand down to gently grip your hip. "I like the sound of that," his other hand cupped the back of your neck, pulling you in for another kiss.

Roach had made a wonderful spread for the four of them, even with some of the last minute changes Stede had made (and nearly lost a hand for). The four of you ate together like you usually did, but both Edward and Izzy could sense that something was different. More effort than usual had gone into the meal, Stede had made more of a fuss about it than he usually does. Though, despite the display of food, Stede has seemingly decided to go for more casual attire than usual. He had suggested 'not too formal' to you after all, having settled on a simple pair of breeches and a shirt. He still looked dashing, of course.

Though, more than any of the other noticeable difference, the most concerning part of the whole thing was that you and Stede kept sharing glances.

They hadn't thought much of it at first, Edward had thought, even hoped, that maybe there was some new tension between you both, of the sexual kind of course. Had hoped it was some sort of silent flirting. Either way, it had piqued Edward's interest, but it only served to unsettle Izzy. He didn't like the idea of being out of the loop on something, it makes him uncomfortable.

Once dinner and desert was finished, Stede ushered the three of you over to the sitting area and poured each of you a glass of brandy. Though, they could barely care about any food or drink when all of Stede's touching was driving them insane. The touches were innocent, really. Little touches to the shoulder, the smalls of their backs, knees, and thighs. Lingering but not for long enough to be considered anything but chaste.

Then you all found yourselves crammed on the settee, it was impractical but it meant that you could all sit together, sharing light conversation. You and Stede still sharing those glances that Edward and Izzy kept wanting to mention.

But those little glances was how you noticed that Stede had finished his drink, that along with the sound of his ring clinking against the glass as he gently tapped his finger.

"Refill, Stede?" you asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

Stede looked over the two men at you and smiled, "if you don't mind, love."

With a smile of your own, yous stood, placing your glass down and picking up the bottle of brandy. Stede only watched as you did so. "Thank you, darling," Stede nodded as you refilled his glass.

"No problem," you lifted the bottle up and Stede held his glass out to the side.

As you expected, a hand on the back of your neck pulled you down to meet the captain in an opened mouthed kiss. Beside the two of you, you could hear somebody quietly choke on their drink. You just hummed approvingly, a little amused, into the kiss.

Stede released you with a smile, both of you breathing a little heavier now. Then you looked towards the other men. "Either of you need a refill?" you asked innocently.

"Fuck yeah, I'll take one," Edward nodded, quickly downing the rest of his drink before holding the glass out to you.

You chuckled and only managed to partially fill his cup before Edward was distracting you by capturing your lips with his own. You fumbled with the bottle slightly, miraculously not spilling any of its contents. After a short moment, you felt somebody carefully take the bottle from you, the soft hand against your back indicating that it was Stede.

"Can I interest you in a top up, Israel?" Stede asked.

Edward lent back against the settee, pulling you along with him until you had to reach out and grab the back of the settee to stop yourself from falling right onto him.

"Wouldn't mind one, yeah," Izzy answered with a faux casualness.

Stede laughed a little to himself and you opened your eyes just in time to see Stede lean down and kiss him, making you smile into Edward's kiss.

"Should I take this?" you asked against his lips, gently taking hold of his glass. Edward nodded, smirking when you took the glass and sipped from it, holding his gaze.

You had to move, much too far away in Edward's opinion, to place the glass on the table behind you.

"Iz?" you asked, causing the man to tear away from Stede and look at you with a confused expression. "Your glass, love," you gestured to his nearly empty glass, Stede never did refill it.

"We don't want any spillage, do we?" Stede encouraged.

Izzy flushed and handed you the glass.

As you placed his glass down as well, Edward tugged on Stede's shirt. "So, this is what you two have been up to?" he asked, guiding the blond closer.

"I can assure you, I have no idea what you're talking about, dearest," Stede said in that way that told everyone that he knew exactly what he was talking about.

"Told you they're just as insane as each other," you murmured, settling down on the settee beside Izzy as Edward pulled Stede down for a kiss.

"You're pretty fucking mental too," Izzy insisted, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Yeah? What does that make you?" you asked, teasingly, leaning into him.

"Shut up," he muttered, grabbing you by your shirt and pulling you into a kiss.

You grinned into his mouth at his eagerness but quickly melted into the kiss, practically draping yourself over his lap as he pulled you closer. "Aren't they just lovely?" Stede asked Edward in a hushed tone, but made sure to be loud enough that you could both hear him.

"The fucking loveliest," Edward agreed before smiling up at Stede, "as well as you, of course."

"Well, I should hope so," Stede hummed.

"Fucking hell," Izzy groaned, bumping his forehead against yours as he broke the kiss.

"Iz is right, you two just gonna sit there talking about us?" you asked, cocking an eyebrow at the both.

With a toothy smile, Edward gripped Izzy by the hair on the back of his head and pulled him into a messy kiss, Izzy having to grip his bicep to steady himself.

Stede chuckles fondly, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he ran his hands up your sides. "Perhaps we should move to the bed, where it's a little more comfortable," he suggested, his own back hurting from seeing how the three of you leaned over each other.

Edward nearly sent you all tumbling over with just how fast he stood up. Stede laughed fondly at the enthusiasm as he helped you up from the settee, from your slightly awkward position over Izzy.

As you stood, you caught Izzy's hand, pulling him to his feet as well.

Soon enough the four of you were on your feet and stumbling over each other in flurry of touches and kisses. By the time you made it to the bed, only on the other side of the cabin, the four of you were shirtless. Shirts and a leather waistcoat abandoned on the floor, your attention too focused on each other to care too much. Come morning, Izzy will be huffing about his routine being disturbed and Stede would be turning his nose up at the wrinkles in everyone's clothes.

Not so long ago there might have been more hesitance, more uncertainty in yourselves, but enough time had passed that enthusiasm and desperation had took control. You all needed this, wanted this, and you didn't feel the need to worry about what it was you were doing. It was the four of you, and that was more than enough.

Edward dropped himself down onto the edge of the bed, pulling you down to straddle his lap. His hands clutched your hips, pulling you flush against him, while Izzy pressed up behind you. He stood at your back, hands against your waist, fingering repeatedly pressing into your soft flesh and relaxing again.

You couldn't help the little sighs you made as they attacked your neck with their mouths. Edward greedily sucked at your neck, bound to leave his marks behind, before continuing his assault over your shoulders and down your chest. Izzy's kisses were slightly more reserved but involved more teeth, dragging them over the nap of your neck and down between your shoulder blades.

Stede moved closer, resting one knee on the bed as he buried a hand in your hair, turning your head towards him to catch you in a kiss. He kissed you with a need you hadn't felt from him before, his inhibitions lessened, feeling less need to hold back for others comfort. You all wanted this as much as him.

Being pressed between the three men with their mouths on you was overwhelming but in the best way.

A shiver ran down your spine as Izzy licked a stripe up your neck, nipping at your earlobe. "Fuck," you gasped into Stede's mouth when teeth graze over the sensitive flesh of your nipple. You felt Edward smirk against you at your reaction.

When Edward grabbed your chin and turned your head towards him, Stede let you go, pressing a kiss to your jaw. Edward was up to something, you could tell from the look in his eyes, the glint behind them.

"Wanna get Iz ready for me?" Edward asked, close enough that his lips brushed against yours, low enough that he sounded like he was sharing a secret.

But you all heard him and you all groaned at the thought. You felt Izzy shiver behind you, his grip on your waist tightening as his hips jolted against your back.

You nodded frantically, Izzy and Stede moving back as you scrambled off of Edward's lap.

You all helped each other out of your pants, more little touches and kisses shared in the meantime. Leather was not the most glamorous thing to strip out of but Edward and Izzy made it work, and it didn't discourage any of you.

With a wet kiss, Stede patted Izzy's hip and nudged him towards the bed. Izzy did as he was told, crawling up on to the bed and laying on his stomach, his head against the pillows.

"On your back Iz, if that's alright," you requested as you knelt on the bed.

Izzy nodded and turned over, making you smile as you crawled between his legs. Hands braced on either side of his head, you lent down and met him in a slow kiss, feeling him relax under you.

"This okay?" you asked as you kissed along his jaw, stroking a hand up the inside of his thigh.

"Get the fuck on with it," Izzy complained, no bite in his voice. He sounded more breathless than anything.

"Patience, dear," Stede chastised fondly while you and Edward laughed. "Here you go, darling, you'll need it," he got your attention for long enough to press a little vial into your hand. Oil.

"Thank you," you lent over to give him a quick kiss before returning to your position and opening the vial.

You poured a generous amount of oil into your hand before sealing the vial and letting one of the captains take it from you. You could hear the sound of Edward and Stede climbing onto the bed with you both, the sound of their messy kisses, as you buried your face in Izzy's neck to kiss and nip at the sensitive skin.

Izzy twitched slightly as you slipped your hand between his legs, you smiling as he unconsciously spread them a little further. You were slow, edging on teasing, as you kissed, licked, and nipped down his body. By the time you were mouthing at his hip, you had managed two fingers. Izzy practically whined, rolling his hips into your hand, making you smirk.

He gasped when you mouthed at his length, hips jerking before settling back down. You heard Edward chuckle behind you, alerting you that the captains had moved and untangled themselves from each other.

As you added a third finger, you glanced up to see Stede brushing his fingers through Izzy's hair and laying his mouth over his own. Izzy lifted his chin, nearly arching off of the bed to meet him in the kiss, making the captain smile against his mouth.

You jolted a little in surprise when a warm hand slid up the inside of your thigh but instantly relaxed at the sound of Edward's quiet laugh. You gasped into Izzy's hip at the feeling of slick fingers brushing over you, Edward pushed in two without any warning, pulling another gasp from you.

Edward ran a hand down your spine, settling on the small of your back. Then a third finger, just like you were doing for Izzy. Edward lent over your back, brining his mouth to your ear, "trust me." You had no idea what he meant by that but you did, you did trust him. Anyway, you were sure you would find out soon enough.

"Fucking hell, okay, I'm ready, that's enough," Izzy complained, squirming under you, breaking away from Stede's kiss.

Stede couldn't help but chuckle at the whining before looking to you, "do you agree?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'd say so," you nodded, Edward's fingers playing with your hair.

Stede and Edward shared a look and Edward pulled away from you before guiding you away from Izzy. Stede was quick to pull you into him, pulling you into his lap and holding you against his chest as he buried his face in your neck.

Edward grabbed Izzy with a grin, capturing him in a messy kiss and flipping them both over. Edward sinking into the pillows as Izzy straddled himself over him.

"Have no fucking idea how long I've wanted this, Iz," Edward murmured, tugging on Izzy's hair in just the right way. You weren't sure if it was the captain's words or the hair pulling that caused the first mate to groan. Edward palmed at Izzy's hips and ass, humming and moaning as they ground together. "Turn around, face them," he ordered.

Doing as he's hold, Izzy turns himself around with some assistance from Edward, so that he is still straddling his captain's hips but facing away from him. Facing you and Stede. As Edward sat himself up to kiss between Izzy's shoulder blades, while still groping at his hips of course, Stede gave you a small nudge and you moved forward.

Stede held you by the waist so that you didn't lose your balance as you shuffled forwards, straddling Edward's thighs so that you were face to face with Izzy.

Growing impatient, Izzy ground down against Edward, pulling a small groan and curse from the man below him. You chuckled at the teasing, cupping Izzy's face in your hands and pulling him into a kiss.

Izzy kissed back, all tongue and teeth, as he lifted his hips. Edward got the message loud and clear, taking himself in hand and positioning himself. As Izzy sank down on him, his hands gripped your arms tightly, both for balance and for something to help ground him as he adjusted to the feeling of fullness, to the stretch. It was been a while since he had done this. But it was better than he remembered, better than it had ever been. It was Edward inside him, it was you caressing him, it was Stede cooing to you all.

"We've got you," you murmured, Izzy groaning into your mouth as he fully dropped his hips.

"Fuck," Edward moaned once Izzy was fully seated.

"Now, hold on, loves," Stede shifted up behind you, a hand stroking up Edward's leg and the other perched on your hip. Izzy stilled under the order, Edward kneading at him. You turned your head to let him kiss you, his hand running up and down your side. "Ready?" he asked you.

"Yeah, please, fuck," you nodded before turning back to Izzy, who gave you a slightly amused look.

Both of Stede's hands gripped your hips, slowly pushing in to you.

A breathy moan escaped you, forehead resting against Izzy's. Well, here was another thing that surprised you about Stede Bonnet. Just how well-endowed he was. Now you know why Edward had wanted you to 'trust him' when it came to prepping.

Stede's fingers dug into your hips as he let out a shaky breath. "Almost there, love. Are you alright?" he asked, rubbing his thumbs in comforting circles.

You nodded, shifting your hips back to let him know he could continue. And he did, pushing forward until his hips were flush with your ass.

You breathed in and breathed out. He was definitely the biggest you had ever taken but, fuck, it felt good. Head dropping to Izzy's shoulder, gripping his arms in return, grip slowly loosening as you became familiar with the feeling.

"Stede," you sighed, managing to lift your head from Izzy's shoulder. You met the first mate's gaze through hooded, glassy eyes. There was nothing but awe (well, along with pleasure) in the way he looked at you.

Brought out of his admiration, Izzy groaned as Edward sat up, shifting inside of him. "Let me see, Iz," he whined, causing Izzy to lean to the side slightly, letting Edward in over his shoulder.

"Fucking gorgeous, all three of you," Edward praised, taking in the sight of you and Stede. You smiled, leaning forward to kiss him. Edward kissed back hungrily, leaning forward and incidentally pressing Izzy against you. "Gotta move, mate," Edward broke the kiss, mouthing at Izzy's ear.

"I'd have to agree," Stede hummed against the back of your shoulder, leaving a gentle kiss there.

You and Izzy nodded in agreement, holding onto each other for balance as Edward lay back down and Stede shifted behind you. Edward tapped Izzy's hip, giving a small trust of his own, signalling for Izzy to move. And, to his credit, he did. Izzy steadily lifted himself up before dropping back down, rolling his hips, pulling sounds from his captain's mouth. Riding him wantonly.

Stede pulled out of you nearly completely before slowly pushing back in, hearing your moaned gasp before picking up the pace. His hands roamed your frame, groping at your waist and chest, covering the back of your neck and shoulders with kisses, surely adding his own marks to the litany caused by Edward and Izzy.

You and Izzy were each other's source of balance, holding onto each other to prevent either of you from toppling over. Leaning into each other and occasionally nuzzling into each other's neck when receiving a particularly well aimed trust. It was the best angle for Edward and Stede to see you and Izzy messily making out and moaning into each other's mouths, but they gave it their best shot. The sight only spurring them on.

Feeling himself getting close, Edward sat up to press his chest against Izzy's back, gripping Izzy's hips and guiding the way he ground into his lap. Izzy released a particularly high pitched moan, signalling that he was close as well. They weren't the only ones, you felt that edge rapidly approaching and Stede appeared to feel the same way from the way his thrusts lost their rhythm.

You pried a hand away from Izzy's arm to wrap it around his length, causing his head to loll back against Edward's shoulder.

"Aren't they beautiful?" Stede asked lowly in your ear, pressing his chest to your back, pulling you back into him. You nodded frantically, past the point of words but agreeing completely as you continued to pump your hand. "Keep your eyes open. Watch them with me," he ordered and you nodded again, this time with a little moan of his name.

Izzy was the first to finish, spilling over your hand, but Edward was right behind him. Cursing as his hips twitched and bunked before stilling completely, hands tugging Izzy's hips down against his own, anchoring them there.

You and Stede couldn't contain your moans at the display. They were a vision.

"They helped you out, Iz. Give them a hand, yeah?" Edward lazily nudged him, nuzzling into his neck.

Izzy lifted himself up just enough to focus on watching you as he slipped a hand between your legs. You moaned instantly, practically collapsing against his broad chest as your hips jerked into his hand. He kept you propped up and Edward kept him held up.

"Too-too much," you gasped incoherently.

"Need us to stop?" Stede asked, panting against your shoulder as he slowed his thrusts.

"No, no," you nearly cried at the idea of him stopping now, shaking your head, clutching at Izzy. "Please don't stop."

Stede moaned your name as he picked up the pace again, his thrusts hard and fast as he chased his end right alongside you.

You came with a moan, your legs shaking and fingernails digging into Izzy's skin, earning a soft groan from him.

Stede moaned your name again to get your attention. It partially worked, you were listening but everything was a little fuzzy. "Can I-" you knew what he was going to ask, because of course he would ask, but you didn't need to think about the answer.

"Yes!" you answered, hips and body jerking at the oncoming oversensitivity, "yes, please."

Unable to argue with that, Stede groaned in your ear and his hips pressed harsh against you as he finished.

Edward let out a soft groan at the sight before falling back down into the pillows. Izzy huffed at the lack of support, leaning more into you as you lent further against him, legs feeling too weak and shaky to fully hold yourself up.

Stede took his time collecting himself and calming his breathing before pulling away from you. You hissed at the loss, only to keen when he soothed a hand down your spine. With gentle hands, he guided you to the side, to lay down beside Edward. Edward smiled, holding Izzy still as he lent over to give you lazy kisses.

As Stede helped Izzy up and off of Edward's lap, you shifted to give Izzy the space to lay between you and Edward.

With a goofy grin, Edward lent up to kiss Stede, running his fingers through his hair, before he could move to far away.

You groaned with a pleased smile, stretching out in a way that reminded Izzy of a cat backing in the sun.

"My lower back is going to ache something fierce tomorrow," Izzy complained with a small smile, looking relaxed. Content. Happy.

"Worth it though, I hope?" Stede asked, pulling away from Edward's grabby hands.

"Sure," Izzy smiled more to himself.

"So worth it," you added, making Edward laugh.

He stretched just like you had, groaning when his knee popped, before yawning and turning over to curl up against Izzy. You pushed Izzy's hair out of his face, smoothing it back over his head and giving him a gentle kiss.

Stede looked over the three of you adoringly before standing from the bed. You sat up in response to his retreating figure, only to have a hand placed against your chest. "He'll be back," Edward assured you, gently pushing you back down to the bed.

Before either you or Izzy could question it, Stede had returned just like Edward said he would. He was holding a bowl of warm water and a washcloth.

The Gentleman Pirate, living up to his name, cleaned the three of you up. All of you preening under his attention, which made him smile. Once he was finished, he placed his tools to the side and carefully crawled over the three of you to lay between you and the window.

With a yawn of your own, you curled into Izzy's chest, nuzzling into him as he embraced you. Stede pressed up behind you while Edward mimicked the position behind Izzy.

The captains' arms spread out over the two of you and over each other, making sure each of you were touching. The four of you impossibly close, blanket draped over your frames, falling asleep to the sound of murmured sweet nothings.

"Goodnight, my loves."

#israel hands x reader #izzy hands x reader #edward teach x reader #stede bonnet x reader #our flag means death #ofmd #ofmd x reader #steddy hands #steddyhands #steddyhands x reader

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daintyduck99 · 1 year

Note

Cuddle prompts! 14 and 26 for ship of your choice.

14. cuddles after being touch-starved & 26. sitting in their lap & cuddling

Julie does her damndest not to stare.

It's just that Bobby's back, and he always returns worse for wear. Brittle. He's got crescent moons stamped under his eyes, and a hunch to his shoulders that curls him in on himself, another sliver of the moon.

She's never met his parents, but she can't stand them for doing this to him.

Julie keeps her head carefully bowed over her sketchbook, stealing glances through the curtain of her curls. She aches to help, but she doesn't know how. Possibly, her presence is enough. He's content to sit nearby in silence, it seems, like a cat.

You're supposed to wait for cats to come to you, and in a way, she supposes he has. This is her mom's studio, after all. They all hang out here, but it's just the two of them this morning. He could've left, but he came, and he took the coffee she offered with a little grunt that might’ve made her giggle if he wasn't so exhausted.

He stayed. She can wait a little longer.

It would be so much easier if the other guys were here. Reggie and Luke especially. They bring out a certain brightness in Bobby, and he doesn't shy away from them as much as anyone else. They can get away with touching him, sometimes, and it fascinates her in a way it probably shouldn't.

She traces her thumb over the stark eyes that stare up at her from the page. They're intimidating, at a glance, but they don't mean to be, not usually. They're cautious, really. Shrewd. Sort of beautiful with their seemingly endless depths.

"What are you working on?"

Maybe she's the cat, because she nearly startles out of her skin.

"Oh! Um…"

Bobby makes an intrigued sound. He carefully perches on the edge of the sofa.

"Is that me?"

She nods, swallowing the dumb thing she's been calling it in her head.

The Man In The Moon.

She tips the sketchbook in his direction, along with a nervous smile.

"What do you think?"

He leans in, and their shoulders brush.

"You're too generous. I'm not that…pretty."

"You are," she breathes, then bites her lip.

He's barely touching her, and she's losing her mind. You'd think she'd be used to pretty boys hanging all over her, she's friends with several of them, but maybe it's different because it's Bobby. It's special.

Not that…no no no, that's a bad rabbit hole to wander into. Losing her mind!

Boys. They'll be the death of her.

She feels it when Bobby shrugs, burning all along her arm.

"If you say so. I don't look like that now, that's for sure. I know I look like shit."

"None of you can take a compliment, can you?" She pauses. "Except Luke."

Bobby snorts. "You're not wrong. I don't know what you said to him last week, but it made him even more of a damn bouncy ball than Reggie. He wouldn't stop smiling either, like—"

They turn towards one another, pressed lightly together, curled like parenthesis. She almost misses the face he's making, a smug smile that startles a laugh out of her. His smile settles into something more genuine, a little half-smile, and it's nearly too much on top of the memory with Luke.

I think we make each other better.

Yeah. She's losing her mind. She swallows.

"Hey, so…do you want to see the rest of my sketches?"

That little smile leaves a glowing imprint on her heart. It melts into the shape of a moon, bright with his light.

As they sit there, flipping through her sketches, and he leans over every time to see better, gently jostling her, she decides that she's waited long enough.

Maybe that's the last of her sanity fleeing the scene, but he keeps initiating contact, so she's going to do it back.

"You know, you'd have an easier time if you just sat in my lap."

He makes an interesting sputtering sound, somewhere between a scoff and a laugh.

"What? Julie, I'd crush you."

"Reggie sits in my lap all the time! And he gives me really good reviews, five stars. You should listen to him."

Bobby mumbles something that she doesn't catch, and she grips the edges of her sketchbook a little tighter.

"What?"

"No, it was dumb—"

"No! Please tell me, Bobby."

He sighs, raking his bangs out of his face.

"I said that it would probably be easiest if you sat in my lap. I could just look over your shoulder. It'd take less maneuvering."

Maybe she is a lunatic. Maybe this isn't real. Either way, she smiles wide.

"That sounds good to me."

She scoots into his lap with her sketchbook clutched to her chest, and he wraps his arms around her waist, which prompts her to exhale. Unspool.

He's…very comfortable. Calm. The rise and fall of his chest is almost hypnotic against her back. If she simply tipped her head back a little further, letting it rest on him, she could…sleep. She could sleep.

Eventually, his cheek settles in her hair, and she smiles again, a Cheshire cat smile since no one can see.

So yeah. Maybe she is, in fact, the cat, purring in his lap.

Maybe she's mad, but who wouldn't be at least a little mad about the moon?

#cuddle and snuggle prompts #julie x bobby #background luke x bobby x reggie x julie #ficlets with ash #julie and the phantoms

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wildskissed · 4 months

Text

companion romance guide

In a 'character is a b3 companion' style format where you can actively get scenes in each ACT to romance them (and can't proceed unless some scenes trigger), Eve's 'romance' arc would be as follows:

[ACT 1] The Sorceress of the Glade

The main character comes across Eve out in the forest, her hands glowing and a bush on fire. She's had a magic surge, but while she's obviously having a little freak out with herself, she acts as though nothing is wrong. Of course there's some perception and history checks to do here though, to be able to tell that she is hiding something, but she won't admit it even if you call her out. She'll just extinguish the fire and then start rambling about the forest and the nautiloid, and then suggest you travel together, which will start her companion quest line should you accept. You can also ask her about the scar on her face but like with invading Gale's mind off the bat, she's going to immediately tell you to mind your business. You can, however, invade her mind with the tadpole if you wish a get the vague face of what appears to be an Elven man and she won't tell you anything about him.

As far as the romance starting, she'll start warming up to you, and even tell you about how she used to be a Druid upon entering where the druids are chanting in the Grove. She's weary about what they're doing and wants to speak to Khaga as soon as possible. You'll get some extra bonus points with her if you take her with you to go see Khaga, and this is where she'll either start crushing on you, or will start being sassy as all Hell towards you: you must save Arabella. If you do, she will become endeared to you, and tell you about how she was a child during conflict as well, and how important it is to take care of each other. It'll also make her a lot more smiley towards you, but if you let Arabella die, she'll be far more curt with you because she'll believe she knows all she needs to know about you, which is that you don't care about the innocent. You can do a persuasion roll to try and appeal to her, but she's unhappy if Arabella dies.

Recruiting Scratch and the owlbear cub will make her so happy to have animals in camp that she'll start flirting with you in little ways like bringing you things she's been bartering traders for, and smiling at you a lot. Commenting on your bravery and your finesse in battle, etc.

There is an optional mission to go to the High Forest and meet her family and her pegasi, and while it will get you more approval with her, not going will not actually make her upset with you. It'll give you some extra dialogue later on though.

As long as you save the Grove, Eve will like you even more. You've protected all the kids, and the Tieflings getting the short end of the stick, and she'll want to spend alone time with you at the Tiefling party. You can't sleep with her yet, but there will be flirting and kissing and promises of things to come when she feels more ready to tell you about what she's been through.

[ACT 2] The Sorceress of the Glade (cont.)

Eve is not a fan of the Shadowlands in the slightest, but being a former druid, she is big on you respecting nature. She is easily influenced if you're kind to her and reassuring that the shadows can be vanquished, and really wants to help Halsin and Jaheira.

You will also get bonus points with her if you let Arabella stay at camp, and if you are kind to the Tiefling kids in the Last Light Inn. She is elated at besting Raphael at lanceboard, and approve if you tell the kids that you will save Mol for them.

She will continue to fall for you the more you do nice things, admittedly, like saving Isobel, saving the Tieflings, and the big kicker: letting Nightsong go. This is what will actually trigger her love scene after Nightsong and Shadowheart have their long talk and figure out Shadowheart's true story. Once she gets her memories back and all of that, Eve will want another private moment with you, where she'll talk you up and how she hasn't felt this way in a long time. She'll then tell you all about how she got her scars, and how it is hard for her to trust another lover, but that after watching you deal with all of this, she's not worried that you would ever betray her, and she'd like to show you just how much she cares about you by 'taking your intimacy to a new level'. Tender, sweet, and she will go down on you first before anything else happens.

[ACT 3] The Sorceress of the Glade (cont.)

Eve is so thrilled to be in the city, even with it's craziness, and any comments about how cute she is fawning over things will keep her at that Exceptional rating with her, and honestly she wants to do everything. She will also, like Scratch, keep randomly bringing you things she has gotten off of traders because she was thinking of you.

You can now kiss her whenever you want, and she is a face grabber. She will cup your face and draw you in and kiss you for a bit, say something cute and cheeky as her arms circle your shoulders, and then steal one more kiss before she lets you go. She will also alternate between calling you 'my darling' and 'my love' and will offer massages and snuggles to help you to relax. Every couple of long rests she'll also offer to have you share her tent with her.

She has a couple of endings for a romance, depending on what it is that you choose to do with the brain. If you become the new Absolute, she will peace out. That isn't what she wants to be a part of, but she'll wish you well and express her deep regret that your love story couldn't go farther than this. However, if you get rid of the elder brain, she'll suggest a future together where you don't have to part, though she will make it clear that she does need to go back to the forest to deal with her family and the fallout of her actions pre-tadpoles, and will offer for you to go with her to do that, but you can wait for her instead if you so choose.

[Epilogue] The Sorceress of the Glade (cont.)

Romancing Eve means that you're together in the epilogue and depending on what your character wanted to do, while she is still working on controlling her wild magic, she works with animals now. She just wants to be settled and with you, and have a family and enjoy your years together. She can do that anywhere that you are, be it the forest or the city or wherever.

tagged by: @elkenbulwark tagging: literally all of you!! please tag me if you do it because this is so much fun.

#╰•★ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ'ꜱ ᴀ ɢʀᴇᴀᴛ ʙᴇᴀᴜᴛʏ ɪɴ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ★ [headcanon]#long post tw #long post cw #wow that was fun #but also as you can see i have thought about this way too much

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quaranmine · 2 years

Text

How to Be a Human Being (Chapter Six)

Grian finds Mumbo. Who do you call when you don't know what to do? The only other person who could possibly understand, of course.

Masterpost | Chapter Five

Words: 4996

Welcome to one of my favorite chapters, part two. CW/TW for general sensory overload and a panic attack. This is the chapter that gave the fic its name and I'm SO excited to share it with y'all.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

“I have to go see if Mumbo’s okay,” he whispered.

The silver lining of wanting so badly to keep your Watcher form hidden, is that while you’re in your Watcher form you’re really good at deducing where other people are at all times. And, lucky for Grian, he could see that there was nobody out in the Boatem common area right now. He wouldn’t be seen. He would go even if he was seen though, because it was Mumbo who needed help and Grian couldn’t leave him.

He found Mumbo in the corner of his shop that he’d been restocking earlier. He was curled into one of the corners about as tightly as he could be, wedged by a chest, with his hands over his eyes. He was shaking, but otherwise still.

And, well . . . Mumbo looked a little like he did right now. Wing tips glowing. Eyes on his hands and black claws. The double halo. Grian’s breath caught in his throat, but he took a step forward anyway, and knelt in front of him. This wasn’t one of them, this was his friend and his friend needed his help.

“Grian,” Mumbo said, softly.

“Yeah, it’s me. Are you okay?” And he winced at the question, so obvious and hollow.

“My head–it feels like it’s splitting. It hurts. I don’t know what’s wrong with me!”

He rested his hands on Mumbo’s shoulders. “It’s okay.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Mumbo said again. He started to hyperventilate. “There’s too much, there’s too much, there’s too much, there’s too much . . .”

“Hey!” Grian said quickly. “Can you focus on just me?”

“I can’t see you, there’s too much-”

Grian reached out and gently pulled Mumbo’s hands from his eyes–his real eyes. They looked at him, but they glowed, and he knew there wasn’t any focus to them. “What about now? Am I here now?”

“You’re there but it’s–blurry,” he gasped. “Oh, now you’re not there again and . . . there’s too much, there’s just too much, I can’t focus, I can't see you, I see . . .”

Grian’s head spun, and he was beginning to feel a bit light-headed himself. His heart was racing, and he took a deep breath to try and steady himself, but it didn’t seem to help. He had to calm Mumbo down, because it was transferring to him too. He . . . didn’t think about what it must have been like earlier.

“Can you speak?” he asked. “Take your time. Breathe in between the words. What can you see?”

Tears dripped down Mumbo’s face. “Everything.”

“Can you pick out one thing, and look at just that one thing? Can you see me again?”

But Mumbo didn’t speak, he just shook harder.

Grian couldn’t breathe either. He felt dizzy all at once, suddenly grateful to be holding onto Mumbo’s shoulders even though Mumbo wasn’t much of an anchor at all. His breathing picked up pace, and he struggled to think.

Come on, come on. How can he help Mumbo? How can he fix it if he couldn’t fix himself, couldn’t use his own powers, couldn’t do anything correctly? He could at least control his own sight–he had practice–but how could he guide Mumbo through that when he couldn’t even breathe?

Mumbo’s eyes were shut again, and he’d shrunk back further into his corner away from Grian. He tried to not take it personally but he faltered. He just wasn’t helping him.

He should call Pearl. She always knew what to do. He could see she was in her base.

He dialed her on his communicator by memory, and she picked up on the second ring. “Hi!” she said brightly. “What’cha need?”

“Mumbo and I need help,” he said softly, hating how weak his voice sounded.

She was instantly serious. “Where are you?”

“Harmless Harvests.”

“I’ll be there.”

She must have left from her base immediately, because she appeared just a minute later. “Grian?” she called as she walked in the store. “What’s wrong?” She turned the bend and saw two of them, and her face went pale. She knew about Grian, because she’d been there and she’d seen it happen and he’d leaned on her once they finally reunited but–she didn’t know about Mumbo. And she’d never seen Grian’s Watcher form, just his parrot-winged facade he’d used the past few years. “Oh,” she said, but the word carried more meaning than that.

He glanced away at the ground, but it was a sort of futile gesture since at least a few of the eyes were still making eye contact with her. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“I didn’t mean to,” she said, and it was genuine. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not like them.”

“I know you’re not.” She knelt in front of them. “Please, what happened?”

Grian screwed his eyes shut again. “It’s a long story,” he forced out. “I can’t get Mumbo to calm down. Because I’m . . . sort of freaking out myself, actually, but I think I’ll be okay if we can get him okay.”

Pearl rubbed Mumbo’s shoulder. “I think he’s having a panic attack,” she said.

“Yeah I can–I can feel that.”

“Pearl,” Mumbo whispered, the first sign he’d even noticed her arrival. “I think I’m dying.”

“You’re not dying,” Pearl said. “You just have to breathe.”

“I can’t.”

“Just try. Even a little more than what you’re currently doing will help.”

For the second time that day, Grian just sat with his head on his knees, and let Pearl talk to Mumbo instead and guide him through breathing deeper. He tried to clear his mind and focus on more grounding things, but it was so difficult when your mind was so untethered from you. Hermitcraft was a lively server. There was something always going on. And, when you could see all of it at one point at one time, it was . . . a lot.

There were blocks being placed, trees swaying in the wind, redstone machines working, hermits shopping, hermits talking, horses running around, birds fluttering in the trees, hermits mining, a storm on the other side of the island forming, fish swimming in the ocean, flowers blooming, flags flying, TNT detonating, bees making honey, crops being harvested–a million mundane things all at once, never ending, fracturing your mind to focus on it all. It was loud.

Zedaph had told them that their thoughts weren’t connected, but Grian tried to do what little he could to project out–it was going to be okay. It was going to be manageable. Maybe Mumbo’d pick up on that and stop shaking, or maybe Grian was just taking the first step to sorting out his own head first.

After a time, he felt Mumbo’s breathing even out next to him. He wasn’t . . . calm by any means, but he seemed to just be exhausted now.

“I’m going to take you to my base,” Pearl said.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Pearl’s base was warm and cozy, but crisp in the way new houses normally were–seats lovingly chosen but never sat in before. She’d only just finished the interior decorating, and the air smelled vaguely of paint. They dropped Mumbo at one of the couches, and he sat down automatically, and didn’t move again. He looked . . . sort of shell shocked. For once, Grian actually did want to know what was happening in his head.

“Are you okay?” Grian asked him.

“I can’t see you,” Mumbo said, and Grian knew what he actually meant: he had so many images in his head he couldn’t know which was the right one that Grian was in. Like a house of mirrors, or a bunch of portals to another world. He could see Grian, but only if he could figure out which part of reality Grian was in to look at him.

“That’s okay-”

Mumbo grabbed Grian’s arm. “My head hurts, there’s just so many . . . can you make it stop? Please? Can you stop it?”

Grian blinked back a few tears. “I can’t–I’m too tired to fix it.”

“I can’t think,” Mumbo whimpered. “I can’t see, I can’t make it go away.”

Pearl looked at them both. “I think you both just need to sleep,” she said.

“But I’m a Mooner-” Grian said.

“And you’re too tired to control your powers,” Pearl said. “I don’t know what’s wrong with Mumbo, but I can feel the exhaustion radiating from him. Either his body is going to tire itself out on his own, or I can save him some trouble and let him sleep.”

Mumbo looked at her, or maybe a bit past her. “Can you make it stop?”

Pearl smiled softly. “Yes, don’t worry.” She placed her hand on his forehead, and Grian watched as Mumbo’s body slowly went slack. Pearl positioned him into a more comfortable position on the couch.

Grian had . . . admittedly forgotten Pearl could do that. Put people to sleep like that. She was sort of a minor representative of the moon–or was it the nighttime?–and that apparently came with the ability to help people sleep. Actually, if he recalled, he seemed to remember her using that power for evil a couple times on Evo by making sure the person she planned on pranking didn’t wake up to catch her in the act.

Pearl fixed him with a look that was sterner than anything she’d given to Mumbo. “Now will you sleep on your own, or do we have to do this the hard way?”

Grian knew from experience that an argument with Pearl was not likely to be won, especially since she could talk circles around his sluggish brain right now. He wasn’t happy about it, though–a promise to join the Mooners was almost a promise to Mumbo, but then again Mumbo had broken that oath too by now. “Fine. I’ll sleep.”

Pearl smiled. “I’ll be here.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Grian woke up slowly, feeling disoriented and like his throat had been stuffed with cotton. He didn’t feel refreshed so much as he felt like he’d been dragged from the depths of the ground and spat out onto the surface. He rubbed his eyes, and froze–he didn’t have claws anymore!

He examined his hand, and it looked normal. The eyes were gone. Grian sat up quickly, and caught his reflection from across the room. No eyes. No glowing. No halo. Parrot wings.

He looked like himself again. A deep sense of relief washed over him, but his chest was still hollow for some reason. It was a reminder that while his reflection might look right again, it was all just a mask anyway. The feeling was still raw, and Grian tried to shove it down like he always did, but it stubbornly remained.

Mumbo was asleep on the other couch to the side of Grian, but he looked . . . a little less like himself. He wasn’t quite so Watcher-y today, but instead of any total reversal he was just odd bits and pieces. An eye here and there, or a couple glowing feathers scattered in his wings. He didn’t revert back like Grian had overnight. His facade was still damaged.

He didn’t have time to contemplate because Pearl walked in. “Oh, you’re awake. I didn’t think you nuggets would ever wake up.”

Grian’s throat still felt dry. “How long were we out?” he said.

“About 18 hours. It’s the next day now. I didn’t think you’d even be able to sleep that long.” She looked him up and down. “I’ll put on some tea, okay?”

She came back, handed him a mug, and he took a sip, letting the warmth fill him up. She’d remembered how he liked it. He was grateful for the drink.

She settled into a chair opposite of him, and he watched her open her mouth, think better of it and close it, before opening it again. “May I . . . may I ask what happened?”

“Yeah. Of course you can.” He sighed. “It’s a long story.”

“I have plenty of time,” she said, “and plenty of tea.”

So he did. He let it all tumble out: about Mumbo stealing Grian’s soul, about their apparent soul connectivity, about Mumbo becoming a Watcher and Grian trying to teach Mumbo to use his powers. “I, um, hadn’t gotten to the actual Watching part yet. And Mumbo freaked out, because I was the one who was supposed to teach him about that, and I couldn’t even help him.”

“He’s okay now,” Pearl said gently.

“No he isn’t! He may be asleep, but look at him. He’s still not normal.”

“But you’re back to looking-” she broke off her sentence, gesturing vaguely at Grian.

“I lost control,” he said miserably. “I-I normally look a certain way, like this. But I just couldn’t yesterday. I guess I really did need some rest to fix it. Yesterday I couldn’t get it back and I was stuck like that, and now Mumbo still isn’t in control and it’s too much for him to comprehend, because he has not had the practice I’ve had! And it’s my fault he’s had no practice, because that was my one job and I failed it.”

He wasn’t ever able to be a Watcher right. He couldn’t be a human right anymore, either. He couldn’t even be a teacher right. And he couldn’t even be a friend right.

He took another sip of his drink, but the steam caused his glasses to fog up, and he couldn’t see because of it, and God, that really was going to be his last straw before he snapped wasn’t it-

He fumbled with his glasses, before finally just taking them off and roughly setting them on the table so he could drink in peace. His eyes teared up and he angrily blinked them away in embarrassment. Pearl just looked at him sympathetically.

“You weren’t ever supposed to see me like that,” Grian said finally.

“Pulling your glasses off because you got frustrated with them fogging them up?” Pearl asked lightheartedly and Grian flushed.

“No, the–you know what I mean,” he said with exasperation. The eyes. The wings. The glowing. The halo. The whole Watcher thing. The panic.

“It doesn’t matter to me.”

“It does to me,” Grian muttered.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, sipping their respective mugs. Finally Pearl spoke: “It sounds to me like if you and Mumbo’s feelings are connected, that both of you not sleeping just compounded your exhaustion worse than before. You weren’t just feeling the tiredness of one person not sleeping, but two. Same with Mumbo freaking out with his powers–if he was never in control due to not knowing how to control it, how could you have ever fixed it on your own? It wasn’t just you who lost control, it was him too, and between the two of you it was hard to get it back.”

It made a stupid amount of sense.

“I hate it when you make sense,” he said.

“You’ll start making sense again now that you’ve actually slept.”

“Did you sleep too?” Grian asked.

“Of course not,” Pearl said, sipping her tea. “I’m actually a good Mooner.”

Grian sputtered. “I can’t believe you would say- wait, how are you not tired?” he asked.

“Me?” Pearl said. “Oh, I don’t need to sleep.”

“What.”

“I just sleep because I saw all of you do it back on Evo and it seemed like a fun human thing to do. So this is just a really fun sleepover for me, with my moon-cousin.”

Grian just stared at her and shook his head in disbelief. Learn something new everyday? He’d known her for literal years.

“Speaking of my moon cousin,” Pearl said, and slipped a piece of paper across the coffee table to him. “I took some measurements at the observatory for you last night, since I know how important that research was to you.”

And Grian didn’t know how to respond to that. Such a simple gesture of caring. She’d noticed why he’d joined the Mooners in the first place. She’d come to his call for help, and opened her home to him and Mumbo. She’d gone and made his measurements for him while he was asleep so that he didn’t miss anything. He felt his eyes begin to tear up again, but he failed to brush them away before they began to spill over.

Hermitcraft was about community.

Pearl stood up and gave him a hug. “I’m sorry,” Grian said into her shoulder, “My head’s all a mess and I’m-”

“It’s okay.”

“You didn’t have to do that for me.”

“I wanted to. You would do it for me. You have done it for me.”

He pulled away after a long moment and looked at the paper. The numbers blurred under his eyes, but he could see one thing: they weren’t good. “It’s getting bigger.” As if it hadn’t been for the past few weeks. “It’s getting bigger faster.”

“Yeah,” Pearl said, “it is.”

Grian thought. “Do you–with the moon being your cousin and all–know what’s happening?”

Pearl looked down, and fiddled with the edge of her hoodie. “The moon may be my cousin, but I’m not its keeper. Your guess is as good as mine.”

“I don’t like this,” Grian said, and the words felt like such an understatement.

“I don’t either. Look at me G,” Pearl said, and Grian obeyed. Her eyes were nearly glowing. They changed with the phase of the moon and, well, the moon was always full these days. “We’ll get through this. Like we always have.”

He felt a smile tug at the edge of his lips. “Yeah. Like we always have.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Grian was still sitting on the couch when Mumbo woke up. He woke up slowly too, and generally looked the opposite of the put-togetherness Mumbo normally had: suit rumpled, hair sticking out, tie mostly untied. There was still an eye on the back of his hand, as well as another one under his right eye, but that was all Grian could see.

“How do you feel?” he asked, and Mumbo startled a little bit hearing his voice.

“Like I’ve got a migraine.” Mumbo winced.

“Looks like we’re both out of the Mooners, huh?” Grian said.

“Ugh, don’t bring it up.”

Grian handed him a mug of tea that Pearl had made for him a little earlier. “Here. It’s just warm, not really hot anymore, but this might help some.” Mumbo took it gratefully and Grian just let him drink it in silence for a bit until the cogs in his mind started turning again.

“Grian,” Mumbo said after a while.

“Yes?”

“What happened? I seem to remember you were all-” and he looked down at his hand, suddenly noticing the eye, “-oh God! What is that?”

“Don’t panic!” Grian cried. “You’re fine. It’s just a little . . . leftover.”

Mumbo’s eyes were wide and horrified. “Well, I guess I won’t panic, just because you said so, but I want you to know that I’m really close to panickin’ dude. Like really close.There is an EYE on my hand, I have an awful headache, my mouth feels like I’ve eaten sand, and the last several hours were literally a blur. I’d appreciate just a smidge of context, okay?”

Grian took a deep breath. It’s okay, he could do this. “Do you remember our first lesson?” he asked softly. “Where I taught you the shapeshifting? And I said that you could affect aspects of how you looked, such as wings?”

“Yes?” Mumbo said slowly.

“I’ve been using it to look like the way I am now. Um, taking away all the overt Watcher characteristics other than the wings, which I just keep. If I don’t do it then I look like–well, you probably remember at least a little of it.” He refused to meet Mumbo’s eyes. “I’ve been doing it so long I honestly forgot I was still doing it. It doesn’t take much energy for me anymore. It’s like a baseline effort. But I got too tired to do it anymore and . . . it just slipped I guess.”

Mumbo contemplated that. “Not really the strangest thing you’ve ever told me, buddy. But why am I like this? I was never consciously shapeshifting to look like myself. I just thought the wings were the only way it changed my appearance.”

Ah. Time for Grian’s new realization.

“I think,” Grian said, “that I was holding onto the mask so tightly that I was holding it up for you too. And I think that worked because I think we’re not only sharing the same soul, but the same set of powers. So when I lost control, so did you. Or vice-versa.”

Mumbo set his mug down on the table with a clink. “Oh. So if that’s true, then why am I, uh, still not back to ‘normal’?”

“I don’t know if I can consciously affect yours, since I’ve only unconsciously been doing it since the moment you stole my soul. But I taught you what you need to do already, so you should be able to do it yourself.” Make his own facade.

Mumbo screwed his eyes shut and concentrated, but nothing happened. “I’ll- I’ll work on it later,” he said quickly. “But, uh, what’s with my head? Does it always feel like someone shattered your mind like a piece of glass? I don’t understand what I was seeing.”

Grian smiled sardonically. “That’s the Watching power. Because Watchers, you know, can Watch. We can see everything at once in every direction across the server. That’s why it was hurting your head so much–you had no practice in being able to process that much information at once. There was just too much for you to see, and no way of comprehending it.”

“Oh.”

“I, ah, have more experience at it. I’ll teach you how. It’s not as bad if you’re expecting it, but you weren’t, so it was sort of a lot all at once.”

Mumbo chuckled, but it sounded dark. “Well, I guess I’ll have that to look forward to, huh? This is really a mess I’ve gotten us into.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what it’s worth, I am too. But I guess it’s alright that it was you.”

“Even after–everything?”

“Yeah,” said Mumbo, and Grian’s chest felt warm.

After a moment, he started speaking again. “When I met Pearl,” Grian said softly, "she was non-human. I mean, I'm sure she always was, ever since she was created or born or whatever. She's got connections to the moon. You can see it in her eyes or those starry freckles on her cheeks that are sometimes visible during the new moon."

"I noticed those," Mumbo said. "They're beautiful."

"She is," Grian agreed. "Anyway, I was human when I met her, but she took a liking to me. We had a similar sort of mischievous streak, I suppose, and immediately hit it off. We became close–really close, she's like a sister to me. She met my human friends. I invited her to Evo. She built beautiful things and settled into the life of the server. She'd joke sometimes that I was teaching her to be human."

"That's sweet," whispered Mumbo.

"But . . . then Evo went bad. I got taken. And the next time I ever saw Pearl, we weren't such a mismatched pair, because this time I wasn't human anymore either. It's not the sort of equal footing you ever expect to find. So she sort of returned my gesture–while I helped her learn how to be human, she helped me learn how to not be human."

Grian, who had previously been looking somewhere past Mumbo's shoulder, suddenly fixed him with an intense gaze. "And I guess now it's my turn to pass it on again and teach you how to not be human. But I’m doing an awful job of it, and I apologize. None of this should have ever happened, and that was all my fault."

“Don’t say that,” Mumbo said. “You’re the only teacher I’ve got, and for what it’s worth it sounds like you’re doing better than your teachers did.”

Grian’s breath caught in his throat, and it pinched in his chest. “I guess–I guess so.”

“I don’t know how to do it, but I don’t think you do either, so that’s okay.”

Mumbo looked . . .well, somewhat unreadable, but Grian could guess the kinds of mixed emotions swirling in his mind. Or maybe he could just feel it–he’d have to get used to that. Their circumstances were extenuating. Nobody's supposed to just up and lose their humanity in a day or two, it's not supposed to work that way. But it did, and it did twice, and here they are.

"It feels so strange," Mumbo finally said. "I want to say I still feel like myself. Which I do! I'm still me, definitely so. But it's different. It's like living in a different body. One that isn't mine anymore, or more like a new body that's supposedly mine but someone randomly just tossed me the keys to a new house that I've never stepped foot into before. But my name is on the deed and I paid for it and it's definitely mine, but also how did I get here and why?

“I have wings now, and it's nothing like strapping on an elytra. They need care, preening, they get in the way when I sleep and my house is a wreck since I keep knocking over things. And just when I get halfway used to that, now some of the feathers glow too. I'm unbalanced. It's like my entire perspective was shifted an inch to the left and then shattered with a baseball bat. There’s an eye on the back of my hand and yesterday I had a halo. That’s not me but it is, isn’t it?"

Mumbo stopped to take a breath. He'd picked up the pace as he talked, beginning to ramble with intensity that didn't leave room for deep breath. He whispered, “I still don’t know who I am.”

"It doesn't feel like you're you anymore," Grian said softly. "You are though. One day you'll wake up and it'll feel like home again. And maybe you feel the loss of your old home, but you can learn to live in the new one."

He just hoped it didn’t sound hollow when he said it. He hoped he didn’t sound like he was lying. It was true, it was just–Grian wanted to be able to believe it someday, too.

He’d been able to find that–waking up and feeling like himself–during his time on Hermitcraft, but as carefully as he had built it up it’d just gotten knocked down again. Was it ever true if he was only ever wearing a facade? Had he ever actually gotten better if he just buried it all away?

"The weirdest thing," Mumbo continued on, "is the power. The magic. It's thrumming all around me–and you, too. Funny how I never noticed that about you and now I do. I guess I couldn't. I was just tuned onto the wrong frequency and now the dial has been turned. And I don't know how to use the power very well, but it's there and it's a presence all of its own that's inexplicable. I still feel like old silly bumbling Mumbo, but with a potential for power I don't understand. And now I know that I really don’t understand it, but somehow I’ve got to learn how to make the incomprehensible comprehensible. It's scary."

"That's why it's so important I teach you," Grian said. “Because I can’t let this happen again. If you can’t control it, then it puts both of us in danger as well as others. But above all I don’t want you to get hurt by it like you just were.”

"I need that,” Mumbo said, before musing: “I didn't know how weak I used to be as a human."

"Humans aren't weak," Grian said sharply. "They're strong. Look at their persistence, defiance, resilience. A human's not such a weak thing when even Watchers are concerned with them." Why would they work so hard to keep players in line otherwise? If they weren’t threatened by their disobedience somehow?

"I think we're human," Mumbo said suddenly. "Despite it all, we're humans. I know it’s important to you. You told me on the very first night I came to your house, that before you explained anything to me that I should know you used to be human. And I’ve always remembered that. Because I was the same. I only ate your soul because I wanted to be human again so desperately, and that clearly didn’t work out, but what you said stuck in my mind because I got it.”

Mumbo met Grian’s gaze. “I don't think it's like a badge you can lose or some pedigree papers. Maybe we're not biologically humans anymore, but what else are we? Are we Watchers if we reject everything about them? If you could teach Pearl how to be human, then maybe being human isn't defined by any quantitative standard. Maybe it's just a way of living. I think we're human."

Grian let the thought settle into his brain and seep into all the cracks. The idea of it just not even mattering what he looked like, or what powers he had, or what he’d done in the past was unfathomable. Like he’d been chasing something this whole time that was right under his nose.

"The Watchers always told me I was too human,” Grian said after a moment. “It's why I could never do things right for them. I couldn't look at players without seeing a mirror and I couldn't learn how to accept my supposed superiority to them. The shoe never fit. But now that I’m here, it feels like I’m too much of a Watcher."

"I think you're human," Mumbo said. "You don't have to be Them anymore, if you don't want to. They're not here right now, but we are."

"I want to be human again," whispered Grian. "It's been too long."

<< Chapter Five | Masterpost | Chapter Seven >>

#hermitcraft #grian #mumbo jumbo #pearlescentmoon #watcher grian #watcher mumbo #hermitcraft fanfiction #quara fanfic #panic attack tw #pearl if u see this in ur tag look away please

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yourlunarspice · 7 months

Note

Hope your day is going well!! 💫

For the fanfiction ask game, for any fic(s) of your choose for these questions!!

9: Were there any alternate versions of this fic?

11: What do you like best about this fic?

Hi Kiya! My day's going alright, thanks for asking!

I'll be honest, it's so hard for me to choose! I think I'm going to go with my very first bnha fic, Those Damn Flowers; one of my most successful fics, Heaven And Earth Between Us; and one that I love dearly, Songbird.

It goes without saying, but I'll say it anyway: there are major spoilers for all three of those fics ahead, as well as for Danganronpa (in general) and my fic series Pit Of Vipers.

9. Were there any alternate versions of this fic?

For Those Damn Flowers, I was at a bit of a crossroads at one point. I'm fairly certain it was around Chapter 14 or so. I wasn't sure whether to give Shouta his old memories back or let him focus on making new memories with Hizashi. I brainstormed for both, but ultimately decided to just give Shouta his old memories back all at once (also, because I was kinda running out of steam in writing that fic, lol).

Writing Heaven And Earth Between Us was fairly linear, if I remember correctly. While the gods may have had some (i.e., a lot) of angst over the length of the story, there was never a doubt in my mind that it would end well for them. I think the only thing I was going back and forth over was Monoma's death, but even that was short-lived.

I remember wondering if I should really go through with killing off literally every main character in the story. I kept going back and forth, because Hizashi is supposed to be good, so why would he kill the other three? There was a very short alternate ending I thought of, where Hizashi wasn't even thinking of the other three prisoners, and instead just died next to Shouta. This alternate ending would either end with all three of the teenagers dying of starvation or getting rescued but being irreversibly traumatized. I'm glad I ended up with the ending I did, though. I'd recently watched Danganronpa3 (spoilers!) with my boyfriend, and I was sort of equating Nezu's influence to Junko's influence. If someone is tainted by Despair, they need to be cured or killed, and there was no curing what Nezu and his teas did.

11. What do you like best about this fic?

I think Those Damn Flowers will always have a special place in my heart simply because it was my first bnha fic. Sure, the writing is a little clunky in places, but it's special to me. Also, I'd really gotten into hanahaki at the time of writing it, mainly thanks to this art series. I'd read quite a few hanahaki stories at the time, and they were all pretty much the same: person A starts coughing up flowers for person B (and knows why they're coughing up flowers bc everyone knows about hanahaki), A is about to die, B sees the flowers and confesses their love, and thus saves A's life. There's nothing wrong with that, but I wanted to find a fic where nobody knew what was going on and where the person with hanahaki willingly takes the surgery (which is supposed to erase the memories of the other person). I looked, but I couldn't find any, so I just created one.

Heaven And Earth Between Us is one of my favorite fics that I've written. I'll catch myself daydreaming about the universe, thinking about Katsu-Misæ and Toshihiro’Máni's relationship. I've created a playlist of songs for the story that I listen to regularly. I've always said I try to write stories that I would read myself, and this one is no exception. I think it appeals to me so much because it allows my creativity to run wild. I can imagine Katsu-Misæ dipping his toes into a glowing river of magma or Toshihiro’Máni putting his crown on and seeing all the humans' dreams like billions of stars laid out before him. It's such beautiful imagery that it's hard not to think about it when I'm listening to the music.

While Songbird is significantly shorter than Flowers and Heaven, it still feels special to me. I've always loved forced villain stories, especially when the main character is so messed up that they can't even tell what's right anymore. The confusion and inner struggle to piece together his past is what makes 159 eventually break away from Nezu, even after years of his influence. And it was killing Shouta that finally broke his mind enough that he was able to remember. But, I think what I like best about Songbird is its ending. After being dealt a fatal blow, Hizashi lies down next to Shouta's body, holds his hand, and screams to bring the ceiling down on them both. But, instead of pain, Hizashi sees Shouta, is able to embrace him and tell him that he loves him. His body is even smiling serenely when its found. It's a fitting end for both sides of him; 159 is dead once and for all, but he's also able to be with Shouta in the afterlife. I suppose I was going for a more wholesome version of The Venom Of Serpents, The Deadly Poison Of Cobras, where the protagonist kills everyone and then himself. In Songbird, Hizashi was already dying, and he wanted to be with Shouta in his final moments, while in Venom, Hitoshi only killed himself because that was the only way he could kill Viper. Personally, I can't choose which version of the ending I like the best.

From this ask game!

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vellichorphic · 11 months

Text

BE SENTENCE STARTERS

LIFE GOES ON

“I remember.”

“Life goes on.”

“Hold my hand.”

“Is there a way out?”

“I’m in a world of pain.”

“There’s no end in sight.”

“It looks like rain again today.”

“To that future, let’s run away.”

“Once again, daylight will glow.”

“Close your eyes for a moment.”

“Guess I’m only human after all.”

“People say the world has changed.”

“The world stopped without any warning.”

“But thankfully, between you and me, nothing’s changed.”

FLY TO MY ROOM

“I’m still in bed.”

“It looks unfamiliar.”

“Broken in beautiful.”

“It’s killing me slowly.”

“I’m a little less lonely.”

“My stomach is aching.”

“This is the safest place.”

“I just found a better way.”

“Feel like it’s still day one.”

“Now I’m feelin’ brand new.”

“I’m caught up in memories.”

“The frustration drives me crazy.”

“This room is too small to fill all my dreams with.”

“This room may be my emotional trash can…”

BLUE & GREY

“I still feel my heart.”

“I’m just not scared.”

“Where is my angel?”

“Can you look at me?”

“I don’t feel like myself.”

“Am I being too greedy?”

“I just wanna be happier.”

“I guess everyone’s happy.”

“Is it anxiety or depression?”

“I’ve been fighting for my life.”

“I really don’t know what went wrong.”

“Someone come and save me, please.”

“Don’t say you’re fine ‘cause you’re not.”

“Please don’t leave me alone, it hurts too much.”

“I’ve reached out my hand countless times.”

TELEPATHY

“Let’s enjoy together.”

“This is a song for you.”

“You’re doing well, right?”

“Everything’s fine, right?”

“I feel happiest when I meet you.”

“You’re the most special person to me.”

“Leave your pointless worries aside for a moment.”

“Too fast is a little dangerous, too slow is a little boring.”

“We may be far apart now, but out hearts are still the same.”

“Even if you’re not by my side, even if I’m not by your side, you know we’re together.”

DIS-EASE

“Damn if i fail.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Sick and tired.”

“I could sleep all day.”

“I will never fade away.”

“No night lasts forever.”

“I hate that I’m childish.”

“It looks like I lost something.”

“Is the world sick or am I sick?”

“24 hours, that’s plenty of time.”

“Even our hearts need a vacation.”

“The dog bit me while I was resting.”

“No one knows what’ll be at the end.”

“I’m just young, only my body’s grown.”

“I relieve my anxiety with a sip of coffee.”

“I think I should work till my body breaks.”

“Maybe I’m sick because I think too much.”

“How much do you have to earn to be happy?”

“Changing myself is faster than looking at people differently.”

STAY

“Was it a dream?”

“I’m gonna change you.”

“This is just the beginning.”

“Tomorrow doesn’t change.”

“It ain’t the end of the world.”

“I’m thinking of you right now.”

“We’re always in this moment.”

“Does it matter wherever you are?”

“The star shines brighter than ever.”

“I don’t know what I’m thinking either.”

“Wherever you are, I know you always stay.”

DYNAMITE

“I’m diamond.”

“Bring a friend.”

“Join the crowd.”

“The sky’s alight.”

“Let’s rock and roll.”

“You know I glow up.”

“Life is sweet as honey.”

“I’m in the stars tonight.”

“Dance to the break of dawn.”

“I’ma light it up like dynamite.”

“Can you hear the bass boom?”

“Watch me bring the fire and set the night alight.”

BONUS: TAKE TWO

“Will you go?”

“Will you stay?”

“Sing the song.”

“Never felt so right.”

“Never felt so young.”

“Take my hands now.”

“This is the beginning.”

“You’re my silver lining.”

“Do I deserve your love?”

“Won’t you hold my hand?”

“Letters I didn’t send to you.”

“I’m runnin’ ‘round in a daze.”

“I was happy being with you.”

“Can’t you see the take two?”

“Stories unfoldin’ just for you.”

“I can always feel you beside me.”

“Along the road we walked together.”

“Feels like my heart’s about to burst.”

“It was possible because I was with you.”

NOTE: I’m not sure how accurately translated these lyrics are. I only speak one language and I suck at that. All the lyrics came from genius.com.

#.vellichorphic #bts #sentence starters #rp meme #roleplay meme

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iincantatorum · 2 years

Text

purifyingxjudgement | So... Not a Harpy? [Ulysses/Avacyn]

So... this was it then... the beast described as what lurks in the depths of the sea and swallows ships and their crew... Avacyn had been sent out to find the being responsible for such damage and destruction, but when she located the source of power, she had to stop and question.

This is when that very sentence was uttered; hovering just above the water, white orbs looked over the other, completely devoid of color, and refracting light from the sun.

His rage was sensed, though her face remained emotionless. "Yes... you have the anger of the sea within you. No doubt you are the being I was sent to find..."

The mention of harpy had her head tilting to one side, though she knew the beings he was talking about. She had encountered them on both Theros and Ixalan... though she was hardly of the sort. Harpies were filthy creatures... she should be insulted, but she knew some creatures were similar... other than the wings and faces, though, the two were nothing alike.

"Harpy? No, you must be mistaken, I am an archangel. There's clearly a difference between us. I'm assuming you've never met either..." Avacyn speaks before landing on the edge of the rock, crossing her arms loosely. "You may call me Avacyn."

@purifyingxjudgement

“Oh... consider your assumption wrong,” he narrowed his gaze in clear judgment, until only two yellow lines seemed to be glowing where his eyes once were. “An archangel. I’ve met one of your kind. Lucifer. I thought the gods were tricksters, but there are other heavenly bodies out there who can do damage too.”

He didn’t want to get into it, but he had an overall bad impression of the angels as well. Ulysses did not need to meet them all, only one did the trick. The reason for his mother’s demise was through the trickery of one, and he will never forget it. Though he didn’t want to harm her nor trick her in return, or cause any sort of damage. He was feeling rather down because of the memory alone and turned around, rudely facing his back towards her.

“Would have been better if you were one of those stinkin’ harpies. At least they’re useful for the ecosystem, behaving like vultures and feeling on floating carcasses. What good use is an archangel anyway?” Ulysses spoke, hoping his outright bitterness would cause Avacyn to fly off and see that nothing good was going to come of this interaction.

But then, he realized what she said earlier. He was so engrossed with Lucifer and the deal he made with him long ago that backfired... that he forgot one crucial detail.

“Who send you to me?!”

#purifyingxjudgement #threads; ulysses/avacyn

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cockatrice-writers-guild · 2 years

Text

Blood and Roses

jax and mia’s inevitable vampire au

warnings: blood, gore, violence, panic, death, swearing, alcohol, mentions of dead bodies in graphic detail

It’s not easy you, know. Living the kinda life I live. You see things on this job, things that would’ve driven some to the brink and others to the nearest church. But for me? It’s just another Tuesday.

There’s been a murder. A man who had a decent job and a crystal clean record. Not so much as a petty theft under his belt. Just your old, everyday average Joe. A man who by all accounts should have lived an average, fairly comfortable life before fading into obscurity within the next 50 years.

Instead, the poor sap was found dead in the middle of the woods.

The police received a distress call late that night and when they arrived on the scene, they found a middle aged woman standing over the corpse and shaking something awful. A few of the officers and even I tried to get any information from her that we could but after it was clear that she wasn’t in any condition to talk, she was sent back to her home for the time being.

But when I finally lifted the covers to examine the body, I could understand what had her shaking so bad. The ragged gaping hole in the man’s neck that just about severed his head from his body, only a flap of skin to still connect the two while somehow not leaving enough blood for the poor guy to even so much as paddle in. The way he looked more like a years old, dried out carcass than the middle aged man who was killed at most a day ago. I could tell that this man had to have done something wrong along the way because this wasn’t just any old lovers dispute.

They didn’t call me to take care of just any old case, either.

And that’s why I now find myself here, standing in front of the brightly lit gates to Nirvana, an old nightclub known as the Parmi Nous, where the drinks are good enough to give you alcohol poisoning if you’re not careful and the music is something else. Or so I’ve heard.

I take the time to make sure I look presentable enough, no tears in the fabric or bloodstains to ruin the overall neatness I tried to achieve, before adjusting my hat, squeezing past the bouncers that overlooked the joint and making my way into the chaos within.

The first thing that hits me about the place is the noise. The rise and fall of idle chitchat mingling with the swell of the many instruments on stage. The click of a glass being prepared for the next wayward drunk with pockets that ran just a little too deep for their own good. The awkward bumping and shuffling from the writhing mass on the dance floor, making new memories that I’m sure many would live to regret come the next day. And over all that?

Him.

Past all the dancers and the drinkers and the gossip and the mixers is a single man, up on the stage. And anyone whose eyes or lips aren’t already occupied are fixated on him. Even me. I’ve seen everything and even I have a hard time trying to pull my eyes away. He almost demands attention. Under the dimmer lighting of the club, his bright red dress almost seems to glow in the spotlight currently trained on him as he struts about the stage, his expressions intense and his gestures mesmerizing and his voice? Deep and melodic and pulling in anyone foolish enough to lend him an ear, deadly as a siren’s song.

I watch for a while as the man stoops down in a graceful motion and caresses the cheek of the nearest audience member, tilting their head up so they meet his eyes over a held note. The half lidded smile he shoots them is enough to make them faint on the spot and with a playful shrug and the approving hoots of the people still conscious enough to know what’s happening, the man rises and continues to weave his spell.

He’s good, I’ll give him that.

Still, I’m not just here to spend all my money on overpriced, over complicated mixes and waste the night away with the others on the dance floor. As a matter of fact, the reason I came here today is simple. That man on the stage, one Jaxon Baxter, may be a wolf in sheep’s clothing, his charm nothing but a ruse, the songs he sings more deadly than others could possibly ever imagine.

I’ve seen some things on the job.

And as I push and weave my way through the mess of people, I can already feel like I’m just about to walk into the start of another.

I make my way forward, pausing only when the stage itself moves to stop me and staring up at the man with all the eagerness I can muster. After a moment, he notices my presence and complies with a lighthearted roll of his eyes, couching down just like before and leaning forward so his face is inches from mine. His hand comes forward and as discreetly as I can, I push a folded piece of paper into his palm and stare at him meaningfully.

His expression becomes quizzical and his notes go awry for just a second before he recovers. The notes fall back into place and his half lidded mask returns so quickly one would think they were just seeing things. He shoots me a wink before rising gracefully and working the crowd once more.

The deed done, I stop by the bar for a drink or two while I wait for the performance to be over. One drink wouldn’t hurt and I feel like I could use it after all that.

Once the serenade finally comes to a close and the man takes a bow, he makes his way off the stage and over to where I’m sitting. The place is quieter now, only the low mumbles of those nursing the dregs of a pricey cocktail and the whispered sweet talk from the nearby tables to drown out the hum of the lights overhead.

The man joins me on the next stool, ordering a monstrous concoction of syrups and alcohol and swirling the sickly sweet mixture before taking a long swing and turning to me.

“…so what is it you wanted to say to me, darling?” The drawl in his voice nearly makes me laugh but I maintain a straight face as I turn to him.

“Mr. Baxter, I’ve already taken you for an exceptional actor but there’s no need for that right now. I’m just here to ask you a few questions and then I’ll be on my way if that’s alright with you?”

The man freezes for a second before doing his best to recover once more. “Hmm,” he takes another sip, “It’d depend on what you’re asking.”

The bartender side-eyes me and the woman resting her head on the table shifts just slightly. “Would it be alright if we could do this somewhere a little more…private?”

The man looks like he wants to say something but, noticing our audience, decides better of it for now. Instead, he simply downs the contents of his drink before standing up. “My place. I’ll give you an hour but that’s all.”

“Fine by me.”

‘His place’ turns out to be a large, very secluded mansion in the middle of nowhere. The architecture is stunning, intimidating and just a bit too much. And the massive thing casts a shadow on the land while itself being almost haloed in the pale moonlight. An old, revered thing if I ever saw one. Though the effect is more or less ruined by the multitudes of colourful flowers and fruit trees surrounding the building.

The man seems to notice my staring.

“It, uh…it’s been passed down to me,” he says over his shoulder.

His heels click against the old cobblestone path that leads to stairs lined with rusted iron railings and the heavy set front door. He opens it with a key and ducks inside with me trailing close behind.

The interior of the mansion is just as dolled up as the outside, everything in shades of beige, gold and deep red. There’s a genuine chandelier hanging over a long, empty dining table made of dark wood and the place looks like it’s been around for centuries, maybe more.

The man leads me into the living area, where he nods to an expensive looking set of couches and sits down on the one opposite to it. I take a seat as well and pull out a notebook, looking over a few things before turning to the man.

“So, Mr. Baxter, I take it-”

“Actually, just Jax is fine.”

“Alright. Jax then. My name is Emelia Markov and I’ll try to make this as quick as possible but I’ll need your cooperation.”

The ma- Jax nods and I scan my notes again as I try to collect my thoughts.

“There’s been a murder around 2 days ago. You may have heard of it. A Mr. Henrick Dawson? He was found with-”

“So you’re not a reporter,” Jax asks suddenly and I look up to meet his eyes. There’s uncertainty shining in those grey pupils now.

I shake my head. “I’m a private detective.” Half truths never hurt anyone. “And I’m just looking into any potential leads we have at the moment.”

“But…why me? I’ve never even met that man before he showed up in the papers. And I’m certainly no murderer.”

“It was the state of the victims body that tipped me off. The wound in his neck, the claw marks and the fact that he looked more mummy than man led me to the only logical conclusion: for whatever reason, Mr. Dawson was attacked and killed by a vampire.”

Silence.

I see something flash across Jax’s face before all at once, the sound of his laughter shatters the silence between us. “…is this some kind of elaborate joke you’re playing? Because I assure you it’ll take far more than that to fool me. And really, vampires? You couldn’t have picked anything just a bit less ludicrous?”

I frown at him. “I’m afraid I’m being completely serious.”

Jax leans back in his seat. “Right, right. So from what I’m gathering here, you’re here tonight because you suspect me of being a vampire? A vampire murderer. I take it you’ve read one too many fantasy books before you took this job?”

“You’re fairly well known around these parts, Jax. Your performances garner thousands of admires but not a single soul has seen you out during the day. Care to tell me why? Your shows don’t go on past midnight so it can’t be sleep that keeps you within your estate during the day.”

“I…well, you see, I sing at other joints too. Keeping this place in repair isn’t cheap, you know. Not when you’re the only one left to make ends meet.”

“You live by yourself here?”

He nods.

“…but you never do two performances on the same night. At least not any that I’ve heard of. So what are you doing with all that free time?”

“…gardening.”

“At night?”

“Yes.”

“So you sleep during the day?”

The man nods and I sigh. This isn’t getting anywhere.

Fine by me.

“So what I’m hearing from you, Jax, is that you are in fact, a completely normal man? Absolutely no ties to the murder or vampirism in any way?”

“Yes.”

“So, of course, you wouldn’t mind if I did this?”

Before Jax can ask what I mean by that, I whip a long knife out of my coat and make a single cut on the tip of one of my fingers, just deep enough to draw the tiniest bead of blood before holding it out to the man.

And just like that he loses it.

He’s up on his feet in an instant, eyes wide. His hand is over his mouth and his breaths become laboured, his eyes now a vibrant red.

“Are you-” he says between breaths, “-crazy?”

I shrug and stand as well, reaching into my coat once more for the other thing I brought for this encounter: a wooden stake. I ready myself to intercept any attack he could throw at me but instead-

“You’re,” another breath, “a hunter?”

I nod and stand my ground.

“Look, I didn’t,” another breath, “I’m not,” he clamps a hand tighter over his mouth, “SHIT.”

The man turns and runs.

I watch him for a few seconds, surprised he didn’t attack before I chase after him, following him into what looks like a massive kitchen, where I find him struggling to open a bottle full of a cloudy liquid before he hears me. I get a flash of his fangs as he turns to face me and starts to back away.

There’s no immediate way out of this room and we both know it. He’s looking around wildly as I approach him, knife raised. Still, I’m cautious. There’s no telling what he could try to do when he’s cornered and, almost as if to prove my point, once I take one more step forward, the man lunges.

Right out the open window over the sink.

There’s the sound of grass crunching under his heels as he retreats into the forest behind the house and I just stand there in the empty room for a moment, stunned. I shake it off quickly, taking care to listen for his general direction before looking around the place. He left the fridge open in his panic, the contents of which seem to be composed almost entirely of glass bottles filled with a cloudy liquid, just like the one he was trying to get open earlier.

I wash the blood off both my finger and the knife before prying open one of the bottles with the blade and taking a whiff of the contents before immediately recoiling.

It’s sugar. What smells like the most horrible concoction of concentrated sugar I can imagine and just a taste is all it takes to confirm this; sugar water with a damn near sludge-like consistency. There’s a few old fruits on the bottom shelf too which I find strange. Vampires aren’t supposed to be consuming anything other than blood yet this one drinks sugar water, syrup filled cocktails and apparently eats fruit? He didn’t even attack me when I presented him with the opportunity. Even though he was clearly overcome with bloodlust at the time.

Without a doubt, Jaxon Baxter is a vampire. But…

I shake off my doubt for now and, after closing the fridge, climb up onto the counter and out the window after him.

I’m walking though the woods aimlessly for a while, cursing myself for wasting so much time in the kitchen when I just set a hungry vampire on the loose but still, I press forward. The trees crowd around me, looming down to watch as I walk and I’m starting to think that maybe he got away before I pick up on something else.

Breathing.

Loud and heavy and clear as the rustling of the leaves so far above me. But there’s something wrong. While the sound is loud, I don’t see the vampire anywhere. I keep going, making my way through the woods as the breathing, almost impossibly, grows louder.

I freeze when I hear the sound of splintering wood just up ahead and continue onward. The breathing is almost deafening now and I’m starting to regret coming out this far when right in front of me, the forest just stops. Passed the tree I’m currently behind, there’s what appears to be a massive clearing.

And in that clearing is something big.

I’m about to take a closer look but with a rush of wind that almost knocks me to the ground, something appears in front of the tree I’m hiding behind, damn near inches from my face before, with the all encompassing sound of wood splintering, I’m showered with dirt and then the tree is just gone.

And in its place lies the simple view of the clearing.

And the fucking gigantic man that sits crossed legged in the middle of it.

My heartrate starts to pick up as I take in the impossible sight. The man, it’s Jax. It’s the vampire I was tracking though the woods. He has an entire tree pinched between 2 of his fingers. A tree, I realize as I take a step back, then another, that he uprooted with his bare hands. With his fingers.

Another step back.

My vision swims as I take him in. As he brings the comparatively miniscule tree to his lips and bites a single fang through the trunk of it. He closes his eyes and the tree shrivels up in seconds and he sets it down before taking a few deep breaths and

This isn’t right.

I don’t know anything about vampires.

I don’t…I can’t…I

CRACK

look down and see the stray branch I accidently stepped on while trying to pull off my tactical retreat. I look up and up and up to meet the full weight of the slow fading red irises many times the size of my body staring back and I…

the stake I brought out in reflex drops to the floor. My hands are shaking bad as I stare up at the vampire. I’m frozen. I’ve killed vampires before. I feel light-headed. I thought I could handle them. The world starts to sway. I thought they told me everything I needed to know about monsters. I can see the vampire mouthing words but can’t comprehend them. I didn’t know. The words shake the ground. I didn’t know. There’s already a pile of drained trees next to him. I didn’t know. His eyes are grey again. I didn’t know. I try to take another step back but I think I missed the ground because I’m falling. I didn’t know. I didn’t know. I didn’t know. I didn’t know. I didn’t know. I didn’t know. I didn’t-

“No!”

A noise startles me awake and it takes a few seconds of searching the room desperately to realize it was my own voice.

It’s quiet and the room is bathed in the orange rays of what I can only assume is the afternoon sun filtered though a half open curtain nearby.

I don’t recognize my surroundings at all which unfortunately writes off the theory that I dreamed about giant, somehow vegetarian vampire singers and makes my current situation all the more urgent.

Because while I don’t recognize the surroundings, the colour scheme is more than familiar. Dark red sheets and red pillows and a red bed sheet. The bed frame is a dark brown. The walls beige. The furniture adorned with tacky gold highlights.

I’m in vampire territory once again.

I quietly get out of bed and reach into my coat, surprised to find the knife still there before I realize the stake is missing. Not good.

I creep over to the door and open it slowly before I begin cautiously making my way around the house, blade at the ready to defend me at a moments notice. But though the mansion is huge, the place seems devoid of any life.

Still, I’m on edge as I search through one empty room after another.

Where is he? Is he waiting to ambush me somewhere? Every corner is an enemy and by the time I clear the floor and backtrack to the stairs, the tension hurts my shoulders and the grip on my blade turns my knuckles pale. I look back after every descending step, expecting the vampire to be behind me every time, ready to lunge and attack me the moment I’m not looking but each glance brings nothing.

It's only once I reach the bottom of the flight and venture into the dark living area that I finally see him. The vampire, the one I thought was hiding under a fucking bed ready to jump me the moment my back was turned is instead curled up on the couch, sound asleep.

Because it’s daytime.

And he sleeps during the day.

I almost laugh at the sight, already at my wits ends. He’s wearing the same dress I saw him in last night and…did he bring me here? Tuck me into bed and then fall asleep on the couch? After everything I put him through? Is he insane? Or just too trusting? I could kill him right now. Carve a stake out of the abundance of expensive looking wooden furniture and pin his heart to the soft material he’s lying on. Or I could pull open the curtains of the numerous windows that line the room and let the sun take care of him.

Instead I go back upstairs and grab the heavy comforter off of what I can only assume is his bed before returning and throwing it on top of him. He could use a pillow too but I don’t want to wake him.

I find the front door, surprisingly, unlocked and am about to leave the same way I came but then think better of it.

There was paper in some of the other rooms, after all.

Wrong.

It’s all wrong.

I’m in my office late at night. No use staying up in the morning when the monsters rarely showed themselves when the sun was up.

I’m looking through the manual I was given all those years ago. The one about werewolves and ghosts and vampires. Flipping though information on the infamous blood suckers, the information that I had taken as truth for all the years I’d been on the job, information that had gotten me out of so many near death experiences, that I’d staked my life on time and time again.

But it’s all wrong.

Vampires drink blood. Except for Jax. Vampires attack anything in sight when they are overcome with bloodlust. Except for Jax. Vampires remain within reasonable human height when they fed. Except for fucking Jax.

What the hell is going on? The book is right in some ways but so so wrong in others. Vampires are monsters through and through. Except Jax sings at nightclubs to keep his house in repair. He keeps a garden for food. He didn’t want to hurt me. He took me back to his place when I fainted and let me sleep in his bed.

He’s a vampire.

But I don’t think he’s a monster.

…what else wasn’t I told?

A knock on the door startles me and I quickly stash the book in my desk drawer before calling them in.

And so, through the door walks Jax. I can see his now grey irises scanning my office carefully as he makes his way to the desk. Probably checking if this is a trap. At least he’s not a complete idiot. I nod to the seat opposite and after a bit of hesitation, he takes it.

He looks tired, probably just finished a show before coming here, but there’s something else in his eyes too. He’s curious.

“Uh,” he begins awkwardly, a far cry from the man at the club. Instead of continuing, he sets the note I left him down on the table, the contents of which read:

You’re not the murderer and so I’ll be moving on.

If you have any further questions, information or just anything, you can find me at this address.

And then, tucked away at the corner:

Thank you Jax,

Mia

The man just shrugs and I prop up an arm on the table to lean my head against it. …and I know I probably shouldn’t but in the moment, I can’t help it.

“So, what is it you wanted to say to me, darling?” I try to purr like he did and the cringe his face automatically pulls into is enough to bring me to tears.

An undercover hunter and an undercover vampire walk into a bar.

The hunter orders a Bloody Mary and the vampire, shocked by this request, nervously orders a Regular Mary instead.

I’m phrasing this as a joke but Jax’s face when the bartender handed him a glass of straight whiskey was hilarious so…

Knock knock.

Jax has been coming by the office every now and then to just…talk. He says he likes the company and I can’t really bring myself to disagree. It’s nice having him around, nice having someone I can talk to and I think he feels the same. It’s almost strange in a way. Jax showed me around his garden a few times and took the time to point out each individual plant. I dropped by to see some of his shows when I could. Stay over at his place sometimes. And he occasionally stays over at mine.

There’s this almost…familiarity to us now.

Jax is currently asleep in my bed. I was bouncing some ideas off of him as he paced around the small room, offering what information he could but we weren’t really getting anywhere. When I noticed how close the sun was to rising, I insisted he stay for the day. The curtains are closed so he doesn’t fry to a crisp while he’s out and I have to use the table lamp on my desk to see by but I don’t really mind.

I’m looking over the case again. It’s strange how little evidence there is on this guy, whoever they are. No trace besides the state of the body. The man never had a wife or secret lover or anything like that. At least not anything that other people would notice. Average through and through.

So why would a vampire kill this man? And in such a brutal fashion? It just doesn’t make any sense. The nearly severed head is what stumps me the most. Clearly whoever did this wanted some sort of revenge or something, right?

What other explanation was there?

“Mia?”

I whip around to find Jax propping himself up on the bed. “Jax?”

His voice slurs with drowsiness. “Can I see those photos again?”

“The body?”

He nods.

I gather up the pictures before bringing them over and sitting down next to him. He slips an arm around me and pulls himself up to see the photos better. I spread them out on the bed in front of him and watch as he slowly goes over each one, his head dipping a few times as he tries to stay awake before he fixates on the particularly gory view of the man’s neck. He squints at the photo a few times before holding it out to me.

“You said that this whole…thing was due to…vengeance, right? Because of this?”

I nod.

“Well, maybe it’s not.”

“What do you mean?”

Instead of responding to this, he instead traces the length of the cut with his nail a few times. “See that?”

I look closer but can’t make out what he’s trying to show me. “What?”

“That’s a curved cut right there.”

I watch his finger a few more times before I see it. The sever curves just slightly, leaving awkward pieces of loose skin and clumps of shriveled flesh around each end of the stump.

“What does that mean?”

“Mia, you’ve seen me feed. I grow. Vampires grow when they feed.”

The implication begins to dawn on me before he can say it. “So that sever…”

He nods slowly from behind a yawn. “…might not have been,” he waves a free hand around as he tries to find the word, “…intentional.”

It takes me a moment to fully process this new piece of information as I stare down at the neck once more. Horror begins to creep in as I can only imagine how much pain that man must have had to endure before he died. “So that wasn’t from claws, then. They…they’re teeth?”

Jax doesn’t respond to this and turning to look at him, I see that he’s fallen asleep once more. With his arm around me. I sigh and move the photos to the table nearby before poking the man.

“…hmm?”

“We’re going to the morgue later so you can get a better look at the body. You might be able to pick up on something I couldn’t.”

“…mmm.”

“…and at least move, man. There’s no room for me like this.”

There’s a moment of silence before Jax shuffles back a bit and I lie down next to him, giving me about half a second to enjoy my personal space before he wraps his arms around me, buries his face into my neck and starts to drift off once more.

The irony of letting a vampire get this close to my neck is not lost on me but I wrap my arms around him all the same and with a small sigh, he leans into the touch. “Night, Mia.”

“Night, Jax.”

We leave for the morgue the moment the sun goes down.

Once I quietly invite Jax into the building, we’re led to the freezer where they’re keeping the victim’s body and once the man takes his leave, I nod to Jax and he moves to examine the corpse.

Of course, I didn’t really expect him to start sniffing at it but what do I know? He seems to pick up on…something important because after a few seconds, he raises his head to look at me.

“Whatcha got for us, Fido?”

“Haha. Do you want to hear what I found or not?”

I nod.

“The vampire’s scent is still on this. Leftover saliva in the wound. It’s faint but-” he sniffs at the air and slowly turns his head to the far wall, “-they definitely went that way.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Well, no. I mean when vampires drink blood, saliva helps to prevent the blood from clotting and-”

“YOU COULD HAVE DONE THIS THE WHOLE TIME! AND YOU DIDN’T SAY ANYTHING?”

Jax just blanks for a second and looks down at the corpse before his expression slowly turns sheepish. “…it uh,” he clicks his tongue, “didn’t really occur to me before now.”

I need a minute. And once that minute is up, I walk forward, grab Jax’s hand and pull him out of the room.

This is going to end tonight.

Jax is running. The 2 of us are bathed in moonlight as he travels at speeds much faster than any human is capable of. He’s holding me to his chest bridal-style as he moves through a relatively empty field, following the scent that was left behind.

There’s an almost calmness to the scene, despite the constant lurching in time with Jax’s movements. I’m ready for this case to draw to a close.

Jax had told me that the murder might have just been a common feeding from a particularly desperate vampire, no other motivation needed but still, I came prepared just in case. My knife hangs from a loop in my jacket and a new stake is stashed in my beltloop in case things turn sour.

We’re going to try talking to the vampire first. See if they can be reasoned with. If this was all just a misunderstanding. We could help them if they were in trouble.

Unfortunately we’re stopped dead in our tracks when Jax’s forward motion halts so suddenly, I just about go flying from his arms.

“Why’d we stop?”

Jax just nods to something in front of him and turning, I see what looks like a completely normal bridge. It takes me a moment to realize what’s wrong.

“Ah. Running water?”

“Yup.”

“How’d the other vampire get through then?”

Jax just shrugs and I take some time to think about our options.

We don’t have forever to confront this vampire. Who knows how long it will be till sunrise.

“How about…I confront the vampire while you try to find another way across the river?”

Jax sets me down before taking a step back and eyeing me. “Another way?”

“River has to end somewhere right?”

Jax nods, though he looks a little unsure.

“Hey, I’ll be fine okay? If things go sour then, well…I am a hunter, after all.”

“Just…take care of yourself, Mia. And…,” he pauses, “the vampire should be close by. Not far past the bridge. Just keep going forward and…stay safe.”

We exchange a look before I turn and make my way across the bridge, turning to see Jax waving before he takes off as well, leaving me in the relative quiet of the night.

He was right. It didn’t take long to find a little cottage tucked away between two hills. The lights are on and smoke rises from the chimney, giving the place a more homely feel. As I draw nearer to the house, I can only hope that it’s the right place.

I take some time to adjust my coat and hat, trying to look a bit more presentable while making sure my weapons are well out of sight before reaching up and knocking on the door. I take a step back, clasp my hands together and once the door is pulled open, I am greeted with the sight of a woman, bathed in the gentle light coming from what appears to be a fireplace.

She’s a little older than me by the looks of it. There’s a kind smile on her face as she looks me up and down and I take a second to properly access the situation before I say anything I can’t take back. This may or may not be our murderer but…do I know this woman? There’s something about her face that rings a faint bell and as I take in the pleasant looking cottage, the simple dress she’s wearing and her expression, I realize where I’ve seen her before.

It's the woman who found the corpse in the woods.

But that couldn’t be right, could it? It makes no sense. Did this woman just live near a vampire by pure coincidence? Is that how she found the corpse so soon? …but if she is a vampire, the vampire, then why did she make a distress call? To cover her tracks? Wouldn’t that just complicate things? I try to withhold judgement for now but stay on guard.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” I begin, “I was wondering if now would be a good time…?”

“Why, whatever is the matter?” She looks almost worried and I realize the phrasing may have thrown her off.

“Oh no, ma’am. It’s nothing like that. I swear I’ll only need a moment of your time and then I’ll be on my way.”

The woman is silent for a second before she steps back and moves off to the side, beckoning me forward. “Then by all means, come in. You might catch a cold if you stand out there for too long, you know.”

I nod and oblige, stepping into the wooden cottage and looking it over. It’s simply furnished, with a bare kitchen table and counter on one end and a small living area and bed on the other. The fire crackles softly and casts the place in a warm glow.

The woman closes the door with a soft click and turns to face me, the smile still there. “So, you said something about questions.”

Something about her stance rubs me the wrong way but I try to remain civil.

“Yes, ma’am. It’s well…it’s pretty heavy news. Do you want to maybe have a seat or…?”

“Nono, dear. Here is fine.”

Something is…off.

“Alright then. Do you remember what happened about 3 weeks ago? When you were walking through the woods and you saw…Mr. Dawson.”

The woman frowns for a moment. “Yes, I…oh and it was such a horrible thing to happen to him too.”

Why. What’s wrong?

“Yeah, well…I’m sorry to have to say this but…ma’m, I’m here today because, well,” never an easy way to say this, “Based on our intel, there’s a chance that you may be a suspect.”

What’s wrong, it turns out is in fact the way the woman is standing. She’s tense, still leaning slightly to her right. Because, and I realize this far too late, her hand has been resting on the doorknob the whole time we were speaking.

And in that moment, a simple flex is all that it takes to warp the metal beyond recognition.

With a quick tug, the woman yanks the handle off the door completely and tosses it into the fire.

The two of us stand almost motionless for a while, sizing each other up, my thoughts racing. It’s her. It was her who did it.

…I need to stall for time.

“…why’d you do it, then? Why Mr. Dawson of all people?”

The woman just tilts her head to the side nonchalantly. “I was hungry, dear. And he was there. That’s all there is to it.”

“But why call the police after?”

“Oh, that wasn’t me. He must have sent one out while I was chasing him. But can you imagine my surprise when the cops showed up afterwards? I had to think quickly. And I’d say I played the part pretty well.” She smiles then. “I even fooled you.”

I take a step back as she approaches. “But he was a person. There has to be other alternative to drinking human blood, right? …or at least innocent blood?”

The woman shrugs at this. “Maybe. But that man’s blood tasted sweet.” She takes another casual step forward. “And I doubt yours tastes all that different.”

I have about half a second to realize what this means before she lunges and I just barely manage to dodge the blur before spinning around. She’s on me in a second and it’s all I can do to block her incoming claws with my knife, though the sheer force of the blow sends me flying into the dining table and effectively knocking the wind out of me. My vision blurs as my brain struggles to keep me awake and I roll out of the way as the blurry mess of fangs and claws lunges again.

She’s under the table now and as I try to crawl away to get some breathing room, something snags the back of my coat and starts dragging me backwards. I dig the knife into the floor and kick wildly between a few slurred out curses and after a few misses and kicks to the underside of the table, my shoes hit something soft and give me just enough time to shrug the coat off before it gets yanked backwards and I pull myself up.

Spinning around once more rewards me with the sight of the vampire currently writhing from under my coat. I hear her muffled hiss from beneath the fabric as she struggles, slashing blindly as she tries to find a way past the obstacle. The table is already more than fucked up thanks to our combined efforts and one sharp yank of a fractured table leg on my end is all that it takes to fell the damn thing like a tree. I hear a sharp crack as the already splintered wood breaks something but don’t dare waste a second.

My eyes frantically scan the interior of the cottage for some other way to escape. The door is a lost cause but…maybe I can take a lesson from Jax on this one. I hear shuffling behind me and run for the window, swinging at it with the newly acquired table leg and shielding my face from the resulting explosion of glass it causes before launching myself out the window and into the field. The grass cushions my fall but the broken glass cuts into my hands as I roll to cushion the fall, drawing blood.

Cursing, I rub the blood off as best as I can in the grass and run.

The pain and the cold slap some awareness back into me but I don’t get very far before a loud crash fills the night and the rushing wind is the only warning I get before something lands just a few inches from where I was just a few seconds prior. It’s the table. That bitch threw the whole ass fucking tab-

I’m knocked down before I even know what’s happening, the full weight of the woman now pressed against my back, effectively pinning me down. I can hear her breathing behind me, growing more and more frantic as she pulls back my collar and the cold chill of the night blows against the sweat on my skin and makes me shiver.

So, she noticed the blood then.

Shit.

For a moment, my brain decides the best course of action is to struggle helplessly against her but I know that won’t work here.

I need to wait.

Wait as the breathing draws closer.

Closer.

As her breath washes over my neck and the air grows humid and she leans forward and-

With all the strength I can manage, I snap my head upwards and manage to successfully connect the blow. She’s stunned and it doesn’t take much to get her off of me. She’s holding her nose now, angry, drops of thick dark blood already starting to stain her pastel dress. She hisses and I grab her by the ears, pulling her to her feet before driving her head down in the same moment I bring a knee up. Her head snaps upwards and she’s out like a light before her body hits the ground.

But I’m not done yet.

I pull out the table leg and shove it into her chest.

And…it doesn’t do anything.

The wood is splintered, yes, but it’s not enough to pierce her flesh like I desperately need it to. Cursing to myself, I grab my knife with a shaky hand and start hacking away at the wood but it’s no use. The damn thing is curved on one end and too brittle on the other. And in the time I take to force the thing into a pathetic looking flat pyramid, the vampire already starts to stir.

I try to carve faster but it’s no use, my hands are far too shaky from the adrenaline and starting to sting too much for me to keep a good enough grip on either object to continue before the vampire opens her bright red eyes. She smiles to me as she slowly picks herself and calmly brushes herself off. She takes a moment to watch me try to whittle down the wood before slowly raising her hand to her ear. The action confuses me for a second but then I see her brush a finger against her earlobe and bring it over to her face, the digit now covered in blood.

My blood.

My hands are still bleeding and the stake is covered in it. The knife is covered in it.

The vampire presses the finger to her lips and almost delicately licks the blood off.

I’m running.

The knife is useless. The half formed stake is gone. My fucking coat is gone. I lost my hat at some point and I’m running as fast as I can. The cuts must have been deeper than I anticipated because my head is starting to feel funny. The world feels wrong and my hands hurt and hurt and bleed and hurt and

My feet lose their place from under me and the ground rises to meet me, giving me a gentle kiss and damn near breaking my nose. Head feels wrong. Vision feels wrong. Hands hurt and finally lifting one into my field of vision, I see something that just catches the pale light of the moon sticking out of it.

…it’s glass. There’s glass still in my hand.

How deep? I don’t know.

I try to drag myself forward with my other hand but I wasted too much time. The grass pressed to my face becomes air and then a pastel pink as something sharp pierces into my neck and I feel faint then fainter. My strength is leaving me as the pain in my neck grows, as the hand around my neck grows, as the fabric I’m pressed against becomes a wall and…

SHIT.

I kick out with my legs to get her off of me before immediately starting to backpedal away from her but once again, too little too late.

The vampire is growing. Blood is still flowing freely from my neck and I vaguely remember Jax saying something about vampire saliva. Something about…clots? Either way, I don’t think the wound will be closing for a while and as I continue to put as much distance as I can between the inflating parade balloon of a blood cover woman and myself, I just manage to undo my tie and clumsily try to wind it tightly around my neck, to at least attempt to stop the bleeding for now. I can get it looked at later.

Assuming I survive this.

The bigger that bitch gets, the smaller my chances of getting out of this become. I need a diversion. And soon.

I get to my feet and start running again, the woods thankfully closer now and though I trip a few times on the way, it becomes increasingly obvious as more time passes that this vampire wants to play. Fuck with me until every last drop of blood in my body waters the grass below.

Still, with no other option than to comply for the time being, I duck into the trees and keep running.

Branches hit my face as I run and occasionally the ground shakes below me as the vampire moves around, knocking me over again and again but still I push forward. She calls for me sometimes, her voice loud enough to carry over the treelines and send flocks of birds flying away in a panic.

I duck into a nearby cave and stay there. The steps are drawing closer but I take the time I need to collect my thoughts…and then I start taking my shirt off. The vampire is probably tracking me by scent like Jax did for her. So, by that logic, no blood equals no smell.

I carefully tend to my wounds as best as I can in the narrow window I have left, the ground already starting to tremble as I use the already soaked tie and some of the plants growing in the cave to wipe as much blood off of myself as I can. My shirt is bundled around my neck to slow down the blood flow while I work. I pull glass shards out of my hands and use some material I cut from my pants to wrap around them. Once I’m sure the makeshift bandages will hold, I undo the shirt brace and use more material from the pants to tightly wind around my neck.

That done, I pile up the blood stained clothes and set them up at the far end of the cave in a vague humanoid shape before leaving the same way I came and moving to hide behind the trees a fair distance away.

And a few minutes later she arrives, the cave tiny next to her overgrown shoes. I can’t see her head from here but then, I don’t need to to know that she’s smiling.

And from my new position, I can see her in all her glory, her dress now coved in blood, her neat hair now a mess and not to mention her size. She’s big, huge and yet…still smaller than Jax? Where trees were only slightly taller than Jax’s fingernails, they’re up to this vampire’s hips and…

It’s just…man, what the fuck are these vampires on?

She taps a foot next to the cave and I can feel the resulting tremors travel through me.

“I don’t have all day, dear. Why don’t you come out nice and quiet and I’ll make your death as quick as possible, hmm?”

When there’s no response, she just laughs. “Suit yourself then. I can wait.”

So she’s distracted now. I need a plan. I have…well I barely even have the clothes off my back anymore but I have a knife. And as I stare at the giant’s shoes, a half baked idea starts to form in my head. It won’t be long before the blood seeping through my neck becomes noticeable again and when it does, I doubt I can pull off another stunt like this.

So flight’s not an option.

And what does that leave?

I slowly get up and start creeping around the giant. The tops of the trees will cover me and I scan the forest floor below to make sure I don’t make a single sound as I move.

“How long do you think it takes for a human to bleed out, mouse? You might be surprised by the answer.”

I’m close now. To her leg. To her foot. To her heel.

“I’d give you about an hour or two tops.”

I creep forward, approaching the giant from behind now, knife clutched to my chest like a lifeline.

“Honestly, it will be less agonizing for both of us if you just show yourself now. Bleeding out is not a fun way to go. …or so I’ve heard.”

Close now, close enough to feel the heat radiating off of her.

“Look, why don’t we make a deal? You walk out here right now and I’ll bite your head off. Clean and simple.”

I position the blade lengthwise over her heel, millimetres from her skin

“You won’t even feel it.”

And with a cry, I plunge the blade into her flesh, twisting and pulling and pushing again and again, the deep wound becoming deeper and deeper and deeper as the vampire screams and starts to kick and

Snap

I freeze, we both do. There’s more snapping as the now exposed tendon in her heel starts to pull apart from all the cuts I made until all at once it starts to tear and

…what was that saying again? The bigger they are, the harder they fall?

The tendon severs.

And this vampire falls.

And the force of her body plummeting towards the earth is more than enough for the tops of the trees below her to drive into her skin.

And straight through her heart.

The vampire hits the ground with enough force to blow me backwards and she thrashes around, screaming curses and obscenities until finally, finally, she goes still.

And in the silence that fills the once deafening space, I just stare at the blood soaked, cracked trees that now stick out of the vampire’s body as I breath in and out and in and out and try to will myself to calm down.

My bandages are soaked through with blood again, probably from the strain and increased blood circulation and the world swims in and out of focus as the adrenaline starts to fade and I finally let myself take a seat in the dirt.

…or I guess lie down? The view of trees is replaced by what little I can see of the night sky through the branches above. It’s cold out tonight and I can feel the chill in my bones, what little protection I had to ward it off long gone.

But…I did it.

The murderer is dead. And I, at least for the time being, am alive.

There’s not much I can do with an hour or 2 hours or whatever amount of time I actually have left but for now, I just stare up at the stars through the dancing leaves.

…

It’s peaceful here.

I don’t know how much time has passed or what day it is or even where I am but the ground shakes something awful and my head hurts and I can’t see much in front of me and I don’t want this and then all at once, it stops and what looks like something familiar covers whatever I was looking at before. Red warns me and what feels like gale force winds wash over and over and over me but I stay where I am. I can’t move anyway and there’s this…pressure now. A gentle force pressing into me and lifting me higher than the treelines and the ground is air is something soft and

“…somewhere…safe…” I just manage to catch the world telling me and in that moment, I can’t help but agree.

It’s night and Jax is right next to me, his fingers laced in mine as we walk from one shop to the next, the silence comfortable.

I was released from the hospital about a week ago with strict orders to rest for at least the next two months before doing anything too strenuous again, though some light exercise every now and then wouldn’t hurt.

Apparently, though frantic as he was to bring me to the hospital before I dropped dead, Jax still had to stand outside and wait for the receptionist to notice him and invite him into the building before he could even admit me in. The image still makes me smile.

The vampire I killed was ash in the sun by the time a cleanup crew arrived and the investigation is now considered to be closed. Just another murderous vampire dead by the hands of a hunter. Open and shut.

Though there’s one thing I still don’t understand.

Jax.

I’ve asked him a few times how he managed to find his way across the river to reach me in time but he usually just changes the subject the moment I bring it up, almost like the incident embarrasses him.

Still, our walk is peaceful as we round a corner and pass a still open café.

Peaceful, that is, until I look into the shop window and almost stop dead in my tracks when the headlines of the paper a man at the window is reading draws my attention.

MASS OF LAND REPORTED MISSING SEEMINGLY RETURNS THE NEXT DAY

I open and close my mouth a few times before turning to the man in question. “Jax?”

He’s distracted by something off in the distance but turns to me after a moment. “Yeah, M?”

Instead of saying anything more, I just point at the newspaper through the window and once he sees what I’m pointing at, he goes pale, coughs awkwardly into his free hand and then starts pulling me along to the next shop as quickly as he can.

#writeblr #original writing #original story #vampire #vampire au #Jax and Mia #ocs #the rooster crows

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razieltwelve · 2 years

Text

Twin Moons (Final Rose AU)

Note: This is in the Blake x Weiss AU.

X X X

“Come inside,” Weiss shouted. “It’s time for lunch.”

Luna and Selene leaned out of the tree they were in. “But we want to climb some more.”

“I told you, it’s lunch time. The tree will still be there after lunch.” Weiss frowned. “And you really need to tell me or your mommy if you’re going to climb that high.”

“We are proud cat Faunus.” Luna struck a pose. “There’s no way we’d fall out of a tree.”

“Yeah. Even if we did fall, we’d totally land on our feet,” Selene added.

“I’d believe you more if I hadn’t had to kiss your knee better last week,” Weiss replied.

“That was different,” Selene insisted. “I totally broke my knee. I was lucky I didn't have to get it amputated.”

“Really? Fraise and Satin were visiting, and I remember Fraise saying that all you did was skin your knee a little. Are you saying she was wrong?”

Selene’s eye twitched. “Well...”

“Because you do know that Fraise can tell what’s going on with your knee down to a sub-atomic level. She couldn’t possibly miss something like a broken knee.”

“I guess...” Selene conceded. “But maybe I just healed super fast.”

“Selene,” Weiss said. “You are not Victoria. She could heal from a broken knee before anyone even noticed something was wrong. You, however, cannot.” Her eyes narrowed. “Now, are you two going to get out of that tree?”

“Okay, we’re getting out of the tree,” Luna said after a quick glance at Selene for confirmation. “But can you catch us with your Glyphs?”

“I suppose I can,” Weiss said. “But it shouldn’t be too much longer before you two can start using Glyphs of your own.”

“Yay!”

Weiss gestured, and several glowing Glyphs formed below the tree. “All right, you two. Down you get.”

Luna and Selene cheerfully threw themselves out of the tree. Before they could hit the ground, they slowed to a stop and were then gently deposited on the snow.

“What’s for lunch?” Luna asked, doing her best to surreptitiously make a snowball. Alas, a glance from Weiss convinced her to put it down.

“Yun-style tuna. Freshly caught.”

Luna broke into a sprint with Selene right on her heels. “Why didn’t you say so earlier, mom!”

X X X

Weiss had not been a particularly good cook when she and Blake had gotten married. She’d been more of an ‘order in’ person. However, she had decided to focus on it a bit more after seeing how happy Blake was whenever she cooked anything. Admittedly, she was very busy running Checkmate Dust Company, but she still enjoyed cooking for her family when she got the chance.

Watching the twins basically inhale the tuna brought an amused smile to her face.

She’d have to thank Averia the next time she saw her. Averia was an excellent cook. It would have been easy to attribute that to Saviour bullshit. However, even without her Semblance, Averia had a basically perfect memory, a scrupulous eye for detail, and a knack for incredibly rapid iteration. With Diana having a basically bottomless stomach as a kid, Averia had ended up either learning or observing countless dishes being made.

The Yun-style tuna was typical of dishes from that clan. It was rich, flavourful, and depending on how you liked it, hot enough to make you feel like a dragon. It was also extremely delicious, and the fact that they could get freshly-caught tuna whenever they wanted only made it better. Yep. Living in Arendelle had its perks, as did being related to the ruling queen.

“This is so good,” Luna said, pausing long enough to breathe. “Can you make it every day?”

“You might get sick of it then.”

“No, we won’t.” Selene looked as though she might actually cry from joy, an expression that she had most certainly inherited from Blake. She frowned. “Wait... is this all of the tuna? Because we should save some for mommy.”

“It’s fine. I set some aside for her and me earlier. You two can eat what’s here.”

“Awesome.” Luna returned to devouring her portion. “After lunch, can we go visit the palace?”

“Hmm...” Weiss pretended to think the matter over. “I suppose we could. I do have some things to discuss with your aunts, so you can play with your cousins while we’re there.”

“Can we take Princess to the palace? Or is her leg still hurt?”

Weiss smiled. “Her leg is all better now. When you and your sister are both grown up, it might be hard for her to carry all three of us. But she can definitely managed while you’re both still small.”

X X X

Author’s Notes

Still no planning involved. The title is a pun based on the names of the twins.

In this AU, Blake and Weiss live in Arendelle. They don’t live in the palace - they want their own space - but in a manor in a nice, suburban part of the capital. The twins are both cat Faunus who will have Weiss’s Semblance. You’ll notice, though, that Luna is Weiss’s kid in this AU and not Ruby’s. It’s kind of like how Averia is always Lightning’s kid, regardless of whom she marries.

Princess is a white chocobo. Due to the wintry conditions that often dominate in Arendelle, white chocobos are very popular. They can run across snow without getting bogged in it, and they can traverse even the most rugged and mountainous terrain with ease and can withstand blizzards and bitterly cold weather. Although they don’t have the raw strength or size of a golden or red-and-black chocobo, they have excellent speed and endurance. They don’t naturally possess the ability to run on water like some other chocobos, but they can learn from a chocobo who knows how.

#final rose #fanfiction #weiss schnee

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thatforgottenbasilisk · 3 months

Text

Princess Azula Loses Just A Bit More Dignity (she accepts medical help against her will)

Words: 2466 (AO3)

Originally Posted on 2/3/2024

Summary:

In which, by some strange alignment of the stars, Fire Princess Azula and Southern Water Tribe member Katara manage to have a civil conversation, in which Katara learns more about the state of the Royal Family of the Fire Nation and Azula vaguely hints at a whisper of an idea that she might- might- have a few treasonous thoughts of her own.

For Febuwhump 2024 Day 3: "Bite down on this."

"Bite down on this."

The Water Tribe girl shoves a plain blue cloth at Azula, and she'd either laugh or burn her, if she weren't the only person around who's not running about like a turtleduck with its head cut off.

"Why should I?" She still asks, with as much attitude as she can muster given the situation. The waterbender appears distinctly unimpressed, and merely crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow in response to Azula's pitiful attempt at spite.

"Because your leg's broken and setting it is going to hurt pretty badly. I think you'd rather not embarrass yourself further by screaming in front of everyone when I fix it, or am I wrong, your Highness?" Is the waterbender's plain retort.

Azula prides herself on her pain tolerance, among many other things. No cut or burn can make her so much as hitch her breath; but, considering the things that she's already gone through today, she suspects that that tolerance has nearly reached its limits. Azula may be proud, but she isn't stupid; she bites down on the stupid cloth.

The waterbender nods, and says nothing else, just gets to work on Azula's bloodied leg. It's twisted up and bent wrong in three places, including at an odd angle right in the middle between her ankle and her knee. She loathes to admit it, but if she were left to Fire Nation doctors, she'd probably never walk again, or at the very least, not without a significant limp. Water benders, at least, can heal using their bending, to treat things other than hypothermia.

When the girl first sets her ankle, she doesn't make a sound; she wraps it tightly and efficiently, then sets the break below her knee. That earns a grunt, soft enough that nobody makes any sign of hearing it, and that break is set and wrapped quickly too.

It's only when the girl sets her knee that she's secretly grateful for the cloth. She screams into it, but that doesn't mean she can't hear the popping and cracking of what must be a dozen tiny bones shifting around as the bone is put back to where it should be, and wrapped up so nothing in the area can move.

She calms her stuttered breathing quickly, and waits for her heart to catch up to the fact that it's all fine now, before she rips the cloth out of her mouth. The waterbender is doing her water bending thing, pushing glowing water into Azula's leg while Azula tries not to kick her away with prejudice.

"Why are you helping me?" She spits, and the waterbender glares at her without stopping her motions.

"You're just like your brother, aren't you?" The girl snips back in return, and Azula pauses for a moment before allowing herself to become visibly angry. There's no reason to imply to anyone, least of all this waterbender, that there's any way to get on her nerves. Especially if that way is by comparing her to Zuko.

"You didn't answer my question. Does it not make sense for me to be at least a little suspicious of your motives, considering that you've been traveling with the Avatar for these past few months? There's no way that you don't know who I am by now, unless you're exceptionally stupid." Azula's not making a lucky guess on the Avatar thing, either, because she's seen this exact Water Tribe girl before- there's no mistaking her, even with how little she actually saw the girl's face, her memory is just as perfect as the rest of her. Azula isn't wrong, and the girl's minute flinch at the mention of it proves it.

The girl huffs, and finally pauses in her ministrations to sit up and glare at Azula's face, despite Azula's open suspicion and hostility. Good, she's not a coward; Azula's opinion of her just increased a little bit more.

"I do. You're the great Fire Princess Azula, how wonderful for you. You've also got a busted-up leg that won't work correctly ever again if I leave you to your Fire Nation doctors, but I think you already knew that- unless, of course, you are exceptionally stupid." The waterbender throws Azula's words back at her in a mockery of her admittedly haughty tone- but then again, why should she be anything but dismissive of anyone who isn't Fire Nation, and isn't an ally? Of course, considering her current usefulness, Azula really should work on making nice, but she's far too exhausted to put in the effort that she usually would on that front. Azula doesn't like playing nice, no matter how well it serves her.

"Stop deflecting, water bender. I know that's kind of your whole thing, but please try to be direct. My uncle keeps saying it's good to diversify yourself and try different things every now and then." She's quite sure that Iroh had meant something very different from what she's implying, but Iroh had also been behind bars in the palace dungeon at the time, so she should be excused for taking his phrasing a bit out of context.

"It's Katara," And here the water bender- Katara- pauses, seemingly realizing how dumb of a move it was to give Azula her name, but she forges ahead, "and it's because I owe you."

... She owes Azula? Not once in their interactions have they ever exchanged a thing, and Katara certainly wasn't freely given anything besides a burn. Still, she won't look at a gift sideways, so she accepts it with the grace and decorum that her royal upbringing has taught her to all her life.

"Of course. Then consider your debt settled once you're done with that healing." Azula says magnanimously, and Katara does not continue healing her.

They stare at each other for a long moment, before Katara finally says, "You don't know why I owe you." It's not a question, but a statement said with total confidence in its correctness. Azula can either pretend that she does know why she's being given this favor, and save herself the little pride she has left, but that would fall apart the moment Katara asks to hear confirmation of this- and she will ask for confirmation, she doesn't seem the type that's easily fooled- and it might provoke some hostility and halt the rest of the healing that she's pretty sure is supposed to still be happening. Or, on the other hand, she can throw away the last of her pride and admit that she has no idea what Katara's talking about- not the most appealing, but really, what does she have to lose? She's being healed by a Water Tribe girl, one who hasn't been taken hostage and isn't going to be taken hostage in the immediate future, on top of the injury itself, so what more face does she have to save?

"I'm not one to turn down a favor freely given." Azula admits, and Katara sighs and closes her eyes in apparent frustration. Azula's more surprised that she's willing to close her eyes in front of an enemy, no matter how immobile and compliant the enemy in question is at the moment. What if Azula suddenly decided that she was healed enough and the palace could take care of the rest? How short-sighted and stupid of her to lower her defenses like this.

"You and I both know that if you really wanted the Avatar dead, he would be dead. You might be able to trick everyone else, but I don't believe that the lightning you hit him with just so happened to avoid his heart, without anyone having taught him a thing about reflecting or redirecting it. You chose to spare his life. I owe you for that." Katara says plainly, as she finally resumes her motions with the glowing water surrounding Azula's injured leg.

She's right, unfortunately. The invasion at Ba Sing Se was a resounding failure from all sides, her own included; she can't even pretend that it was a mistake or an accident, not really. Certainly her family will believe her, and with her family comes the rest of the Fire Nation, but she can't hide it from herself. She knows exactly what thoughts crossed her mind, and she knows exactly what she did with those thoughts.

"Zuzu's been hunting him for the past three years. It's only right that he decides what to do with the Avatar before I get a say." Azula deflects, using the same "dibs" logic that decides everything else in the world. Zuko was born first, so he's the heir to the throne; Zuko was hunting the Avatar first, so he gets to decide his fate. Azula was second to both, but she's second in very little else, and certainly nothing else that matters; besides, she's the Crown Princess again now that her dear brother has shown his treasonous colors, so she may as well allow him this one thing that he's rightfully earned.

"That's not the entire reason, is it?" Katara asks, and doesn't elaborate. She doesn't even look up from her work, instead letting the silence grow between them, pressuring Azula to fill it with answers, either a denial or an admittance. Not answering at all would be as good as admitting defeat, and Azula does not admit defeat. Azula does not get defeated.

"Of course it is. Zuzu was first, so he gets first say. I'm first in everything else, I decided to have mercy." Azula doubles down, smirking, and Katara is silent for long enough that she thinks that she might believe it.

"... Who taught you to use blue fire? Was it Ozai?" Katara switches to a seemingly inane line of questioning, as though she's trying to scope out the enemy, all while disregarding the Firelord's proper title. Fine; she'd disrespect the title of the Water Tribe Lord- if that's what it is- and Azula doesn't see the harm in giving tiny answers and boasting her own genius, especially if she gives nothing else away. The Avatar and his friends have all seen the Firelord in a fight before, anyway, so they already have an advantage from that.

"No. He applies pure power, and taught me to do the same; I simply concentrated it in a small enough area that it became so hot it turned blue. It wasn't hard to use it more after that; I suppose I could even make a blue fireball twice the size of your head if I tried." It would be completely useless for combat considering the lack of control, she doesn't say, since that would take away from the intimidation factor that she just set out with the assessment of her own abilities.

Katara hums in thought, and grabs at a strange-looking salve that she applies around Azula's casts. It seems that she's almost done with her healing, which is a great shame; Azula would have liked to keep talking to her like this, as though she were merely another one of Mai and Ty Lee's friends brought around from somewhere or other.

"I've seen you both in combat, Princess Azula. In my opinion, I think you'd beat him in a... what do you call it? Ah. An Agni Kai." Katara muses, and Azula doesn't miss the sudden addition of her title when addressing her. She doesn't miss the sudden sign of respect. Is she trying to butter her up? Is she trying to incite even more unrest in the Royal Family? There's enough of that already, the Water Tribe girl doesn't need to push even more. The notion of an Agni Kai between herself and the Firelord is a concept that Katara throws at her with seemingly little thought, as though it were simply another word for a fight, and not the fight to the death that it undoubtedly would be.

If she challenged her father to an Agni Kai, one of them would not be walking out alive. Neither would yield, and with stakes that high? It wouldn't be to first burn. Azula can't risk it, no matter how large her ego may grow, no matter how much more talented in bending she becomes.

Azula would quite like to survive past the age of fourteen, thank you.

"Your opinion has been noted. Thank you for the compliment, Miss Katara, but I won't be doing any sort of fighting for the throne in the immediate future. I do hope that it wasn't empty words thrown at me in an attempt to get one of us to annihilate the other." Azula was, at least, raised in a palace instead of a barn like Zuzu acts like he was. She knows how to be polite. She also knows how to be funny.

Katara finishes with her salve, and begins putting her things away. "No, of course not. I do think that you're better at combat, and combat strategy, than Firelord Ozai. I also think that you've known that for a little while now."

Azula knows how to read between the lines. Is this why she changed the subject like that? To go all the way back around to accusing her of the truth?

She loves her father, truly, and she can't wait to succeed him and carry on his legacy for as long as she can. Firelord Ozai does not seem to agree; he seems to be of the opinion that he must hurry everything along. He seems to think that the war must end with his reign, instead of at a time when the Fire Nation has been globally present, with fingers in every nation's pies, that its complete takeover would feel completely natural. He wishes to rush things along and leave her to deal with the inevitable riots and unrest.

"... General Iroh waited at the walls of Ba Sing Se for six hundred days. Firelord Ozai would not have done the same." Azula hedges around her treasonous thoughts, does not give voice to anything that could possibly anger her father or further alienate the Dai Li. It is never safe to assume that she is not being listened to.

Katara stands, and offers a hand to Azula to take. She hesitates, for a moment, before deciding that putting too much weight on this leg would be a very bad idea.

"I'll walk you to the nearest medical tent. I'll be sure to stay away from any witnesses so you don't get caught fraternizing with a Water Tribe girl." Katara says, and Azula hums for lack of breath to manage proper words. It is much more difficult to walk on a broken limb than she had expected.

Neither of them say another word about Ozai. She thinks that she composed her message aptly enough for Katara to read between her lines.

#atla #atla fic #my writing #princess azula loses dignity and accepts medical help #princess azula loses dignity and accepts medical help fic

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