#i'm still not over sticky honey roast

[isekyaaa]

A really dumb part of me is looking at the Spices of the West events wondering if I should use this info for later fics.

#analysis #for example zh*ngli likes sticky honey roast #which is.... kinda surprising? at first impression he seems to be more one for cleaner flavors #this recent event is more interesting from the last because it's primarily mondstadt foods #which isn't asia inspired #tbh tho it seems like sticky honey roast is a crowd favorite ngl #it's even one of ay*to's favorites??? #find it absolutely hilarious that the soups are on alhaitham's disliked list #i'm still not over sticky honey roast #19 people have it on their favorite list #ya*yao cand*ce c*no sh*nobu th*ma y*njin s*yu.... #is it really that good...????? #i can't wait for them to have this event with inazuma foods #then sumeru #oh g*nshin limited world quests give me the hidden preferences for characters plssss

[huramuna]

banshee's lament - chapter 4.

aemond targaryen x stark ofc minor jacaerys velaryon x stark ofc masterlist prev | next

a/n: this chapter might be a bit slower. it's building some things up and i wanted to brush up on my combat writing. it's a bit scuffed but i hope you enjoy! aemond is kind of feral in this chapter.

wordcount: 4.2k

@huramuna-fics - follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings! no taglists right now, sorry.

content: smut, angst, fluff, disabled ofc, aemond being delulu & obsessive, major canon divergence, ofc has a service direwolf, i'm taking canon rules and putting them in a blender and taking a shot, arranged marriage, graphic depictions of violence, my terrible, terrible combat writing

story playlist

‘Little wolf spider’ Helaena had called her. She remembered Helaena’s incessant facts about them specifically– why, of all things, did she remember that? She remembered Helaena citing that they were excellent hunters with superb eyesight. They did not spin webs, most being wanderers without permanent homes.

It almost made her want to laugh. It truly described her well, didn’t it? Besides the eyesight part… and the hunting part– she was indeed, a little wolf spider– doomed to be alone and not able to make her own home, a rolling stone amongst the waves that threatened to drown her.

After the betrothal announcement dinner and subsequent breakdown of Shera, she stayed in her chambers for a few days, not feeling well enough to socialize, nor see the faces of people that would’ve heard her crying. Cregan visited a few times, bringing her a meal or two and forcing her to bathe– it was agitating her to be forced to do something she loved, something she wished to do alone.

He, thankfully, had maids do the actual washing part– but this still annoyed Shera to bits. She hated being touched, being fretted over by them as they looked upon her like she was lesser, like she wasn’t capable of doing things herself. She felt suffocated in a place that usually brought her peace, simpering tiny whines as they pulled at her hair. 

I can do it, I can do it– just let me do it!

She wanted to scream and claw their wandering eyes out, then go and kick Cregan in the balls– this was his fault, his fault– 

Finally, the maids left and she felt like a freshly plucked duck, ready to be roasted over the fire. Her skin was red and pink, emanating heat that she could almost see, steam roiling over her overwrought skin.

Moongeist whined at the closed washroom door– they had locked him out, the absolute fiends. She wrapped in a robe, pinning her hair up with a whale bone pin and opened the door.

“Come here, lovey,” she cooed, voice broken and hoarse still. “They locked you out– my poor bubby.” Shera pat his head, descending onto her knees. She was still weak from the emotional turmoil she’d gone through, bleeding into her physical state, but she would need to be bed bound before she would ever forsake Moongeist proper scratches. Her hands glided through his black fur and she pressed her face to him, taking in his familiar scent.

 Everyone said he smelled like a dog, but that was simply untrue. He smelled… clean, he smelled like wolf– which was much different than smelling like dog. It was primal and heady, deep and warm like fir trees and pine nettles and all the things that were so synonymous with him. She scratched behind his ears and his leg thumped on the ground. 

Cregan returned to her chamber, a plate of something sweet smelling in his hand. He put it down on the dining table. “Are you feeling better today?” 

Shera’s mouth pursed into a thin line as she got back to her feet— with Moongeist’s assistance— and meandered to the table. “Define better.” she murmured, inspecting the plate. It was piled high with her favorite treat; sticky honey walnut cakes. Her mouth filled with saliva instantly and her brow raised to Cregan. Perhaps her brother was more considerate than she thought. 

“Better as in you’d be able to walk the Keep— Jacaerys and I are going to be skirmishing in the training yard at noon.” 

She all but scowled as she pilfered one of the pastries, biting into it without much decorum. It was a messy dessert, designed to be eaten with a fork and knife— but damn that, she would be sticky faced like a honey drunk bear if she pleased! She melded into the flavors, the nostalgia of it tampering her mood. “… I suppose I could watch.”

“He asked for you, you know.” 

Shera’s brow raised. ‘He’ could mean a lot of people. “Who?” 

“Jacaerys. He asked if you were alright and wished his condolences for your… illness.” 

“Is that what we are saying it is now? An illness?” she muttered, taking another bite of the cake. Yes, how diminishing it felt to pass off her fragility of mind as an illness. Of course— how else could it be put? She was surprised that it wasn’t being spread as a ‘malady of woman’, or some other pompous innocuous name for whatever was really wrong with her. 

“What would you call it then?” 

She made a noncommittal noise and continued eating. After finishing, she let out a sigh. “Thank you for the cakes, Cregan.” 

“I didn’t bring them— they were at your chamber door when I came back.” 

She tilted her head. “They were just… there?” 

“I didn’t even know you liked honey walnut cakes, Shera.” 

She clenched her jaw, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. “I’ll be at the yard at noon. I need to get ready, if you please.” she said, the nicest way of putting it. Leave, brother. You’re annoying. 

–

Dressed in a lighter garment than usual, she descended the steps carefully. A light blue tulle train flowed behind her, rippling and waving in the breeze like the white capped crests upon the Blackwater. It was different from her normal style of muted, monotone colors— mayhaps it was a way to uplift herself. 

It was a lovely blue and green hue, embroidered with filigree patterns. The sleeves were long, accompanied by a sweeping circular decolletage, exposing her soft collarbone and the faintest swell of breast. She had felt so confident leaving her chambers— she even went with a shorter veil than usual, the lace falling just past her jaw. 

Walking down the hall, Moongeist nosed her hand to his head, as if to remind her of something. She felt… exposed. A bit too much for her liking. Her fingers glided over her wolf’s soft fur… and she remembered, swiftly turning around to grab her fur stole from her room. “Thank you for reminding me, sweet boy,” she hummed, snuggling into the comforting, familiar fur. 

Descending down to the training yard, she fanned herself with an errant hand. Even with less layers than usual and lighter colors, she was still broiling under the sun. Moongeist panted near her, tongue lolled out in silent agreement.

“A parasol might do you well, my lady,” a bored voice drawled. “Your pale complexion does you wonders, but I wonder if you still flay in the sun like as a child.” 

“Aegon,” Shera recognized the lazy, tired voice of the eldest child of Alicent. He had been one of her companions back in the day, but also one of her greatest foes– before the incident of course. “I’m surprised to see you outside. I’ve heard you’re solely a creature of the dark now.”

“I am full of surprises, dear Shera,” he caught up to her, looping their arms together all too readily. He had a dopey smile on his face, but it didn’t match the pure exhaustion in his eyes. Dark bags fell under those violet orbs like a dreary storm. “I happen to be coming back from… such nightly activities.”

Moongeist let out a growl as he touched her, but Shera silenced him. She didn’t believe that she had any reason to fear Aegon and thought him almost as pathetic as she. “Very well.”

“I heard about… the dinner. I’m glad I slipped out when I did, I knew it’d be a shit show,” he was fiddling with his rings on his free arm, all while stringing her along to the training yard. “Curious how Aemond said you were a bashed up mess under that veil of yours, and yet– he is challenging your betrothed and your brother to a duel?”

“How do you know that?” 

“I have my ways– eyes and ears everywhere.”

“Helaena told you, didn’t she?”

“... mm. Maybe– even so, I don’t think it’s wholly terrible under there, is it?” he peered at her, a single hand lifting her veil to peek underneath. 

She promptly slapped his hand away and wrenched herself from his grasp, followed by Moongeist giving a warning snap to the air. “Don’t you have somewhere to be? Sleeping off your night, mayhaps?” 

“Well– yes,” Aegon backed up, putting his hands in the air in surrender. “I just wanted to catch up. Is that so terrible?”

“Yes.” 

He patted down imaginary dust from his doublet, twisting his rings again as they reached the landing to the training yard observation deck. He leaned his head to look out and survey it for a moment before a devilish smirk perked at his mouth once more. “You are going to wish that it was me talking to you soon enough, Shera. Have fun, zokla.” Wolf. 

Shera watched him jaunt off with an air of confusion, turning to walk onto the rampart. She saw Jacaerys there already with Cregan, talking and laughing with… Rhaena and Baela. Daemon was there, too, stalking in the background.

Fuck.

She took a deep breath, glancing to the dirt grounds where Aemond was sparring with Criston. 

Cregan’s voice echoed in her mind. They’re not your friends, not anymore. She pulled her stole closer to herself, walking forward. I don’t have any friends here. Except for Helaena, it seemed. Steeling her nerves, she made her way to the small congregation. “Brother, Jacaerys,” she greeted first, dipping her head. Cregan seemed jovial and in good spirits– he always was around Jacaerys and vice versa. “Lady Baela, Lady Rhaena.” she spoke then, trying to keep her quivering voice even. They hadn’t spoken since Baela had slashed her eye and attempted to kill her. Shera took in her appearance best she could– she had grown up, as they all had, but especially resembled her mother, Laena. Shera remembers seeing Laena’s portraits in Driftmark– and her statuesque coffin depiction before she was pushed into the sea. 

“Shera,” Jacaerys grinned, taking her hand– which she did not offer him– and kissed it. So gallant, so princely. It made her want to vomit. “It’s a lovely day today, isn’t it?”

Yes, it’s a lovely day, stifling hot in the hells. “... it could do with a breeze, mayhaps. But yes, quite nice.” she responded coolly. 

“‘Tis my turn to spar Aemond next– apparently he has been here since the crack of dawn with Criston. Do you think he’s getting exhausted yet, my lady?” Jace asked, guiding Shera to her seat and handing her a fan. At least he noticed that she was positively broiling.

She leaned and looked over the rampart to the skirmishing ring, where Aemond kept up his pace. “Since dawn, you say?” she asked, raising a brow as she fanned herself.

Aemond was using a shortsword, which seemed to be his weapon of choice against all others. Ser Criston was wielding a morningstar with spiked barbs around it. Her lone eye was entranced on the prince’s movements as he danced around his teacher, footwork impeccable as if he were simply floating across the dirt, whipping up hardly any dust in his wake. Shera wished she was a bit closer so she could see it better, but his movements didn’t seem to be exhausted in the slightest– he was like grebe skimming over the water, in his element. 

Criston raised his morningstar, twirling it before making his advance to the prince, to which Aemond did not move. Move, Aemond. Move! What are you doing? Shera clenched her fist in her lap and leaned forward even farther to try and parse exactly what Aemond’s plan was– certainly not to face a morningstar head on with a simple shortsword? She held her breath as he was within bludgeoning range of the flail, the chains clinking as Criston didn’t waiver– it was like they were in a real fight. Was he about to kill Aemond? 

She rose to her feet quickly, startled by what she thought was about to be a murder– only to watch Aemond roll deftly out of the way as the kingsguard’s weapon stuck into the dirt, lodged a few inches in by the heft of his lunge. This was a clear opportunity for Aemond, one he calculated so carefully. He stuck the tip of his shortsword through the links of the flail, keeping it pinned to the ground and hovered a dagger at Ser Cole’s neck with his other hand. 

“I yield, my prince.” Criston huffed, bowing his head. 

“Very good,” Aemond grinned– but it wasn’t a grin of joy, this seemed to be a recurring theme with Aemond– he smiled but it was nothing of mirth. It was simply a reflex, like a snake opening its jaws to stretch its fangs, one might think it was laughing. “Who’s next?” 

Shera realized the kerfuffle she’d made, her hand white knuckled against her chest as she stared at Aemond in abject horror, still not getting past the fact that she had been deathly worried about Aemond– even after the horrible things he had said. If Ser Cole’s flail had met the prince’s head, she would’ve jumped the rampart with Moongeist and mauled that sordid Kingsguard without a second thought.

She blinked, letting out a breath. Where did that come from? She was usually so well versed in her moods, as tumultuous as they could be. But this rage had snuck up on her, her blood boiling slightly. She glanced to her side, Moongeist was up and raring to go, as if sharing her sentiment.

Aemond wiped sweat from his forehead, finally looking to the ramparts. Their eyes met once again and he smirked. Smirked. It wasn’t a reflexive, mirthless smirk either. It was taunting, pompous. “Lady Shera,” he drawled, dislodging his sword from the ground and twirled it with ease, like it was an attachment of his own body. “You are dressed… brightly today.” he walked to the edge of the ring, looking directly up at her. 

Shera looked behind her for a moment– the rest of the party was occupied with talking with one another. She pressed her arms on the wall and leaned down. “I am. You are not.”

“When have I ever been?” 

“You used to like green.”

“Hm,” he snorted, wiping some errant dirt from his face. “If I were in a tourney, would you cast down your favor to me?”

“I thought you didn’t care for tournaments, my prince.” 

“I don’t.” he responded coolly, his eye trained on her so intensely. He was looking at something– did she have something on her face?

She realized quickly the air coming up from under her veil, the shorter one she wore today, and her angle. She was looking… down at him, and the veil stayed in place. He could see her face. He was looking at her, studying her like a book. Shera let out a soft sheepish noise, pushing back from the rampart and sitting back at her seat. 

She heard him laugh as he walked away to stow his weapon on the rack and pick another. He was laughing at her– surely because he thought her ugly. Wilting into herself, she adjusted her veil so that she might not have any more mishaps. 

“Jacaerys, I believe it’s your turn,” she murmured, fanning herself again, then fanning Moongeist.

“Ah, very good. Wish me luck, my lady.” 

“Good luck, Jacaerys.” she hummed. I do wish you don’t get your brains splattered in the pit by Aemond. I am not getting up again.

Cregan clasped Jace on the shoulder with such ferocity he almost knocked the prince over, walking down to the pit with him. Shera rolled her eyes and leaned back in her seat.

“So, Lady Stark,” Baela hummed, pulling her seat up next to Shera. Uncomfortably close. “Cregan is your brother, yes?”

“Yes, my lady.” she responded, trying not to sound annoyed.

“Forgive me– you two don’t look much alike, so I was just making sure.”

You cannot even see my face, how do you know we do not look alike? The last time you saw my face, you mauled it. “Cregan takes after our father more than I. I am more like our mother– or so I’ve been told. I’ve not met her.” she fiddled with her fur stole to ease her growing irritation. Add mother issues to the list of things I have wrong with me. Shera’s mother died shortly after her birth– all she knew is that she had copper hair. Their father had put away portraits and any semblance of her existence after– and never remarried.

Baela carefully sidestepped the issue of Shera’s mother, keeping her pressed about Cregan. “My stepmother says that mayhaps after you and Jacaerys are wed, she will propose a betrothal between Cregan and I.”

Oh, of course. Let’s have Winterfell all but indebted to dragons. “I hadn’t heard. Have you been North, my lady?” 

“No– but I imagine it cannot be any harsher than the roiling tides of Driftmark.”

Fuck you. “Having been both places– they are very different, Lady Baela,” Shera knew she was being short and not doing well in containing her agitation at this whole situation, being in proximity to her would-be murderer. “The North is harsher than any tide and is not the best climate for everyone. I do not think dragons fair well in the North,” she paused to breathe, her pace of speaking beginning to burn her throat. She was fueled by disconcertment and barely contained anger alone. “... that is what I have heard. Vermax loathes the snow.” 

“Well,” Baela kept a smile on her face. “Cregan is handsome, don’t you think?”

“I cannot say, my lady. I don’t really see him in such a manner— I am not a Targaryen, after all.” Shera said back, finally regaining some control in her voice. 

She heard Daemon laugh behind her. She fought the urge to turn around and sneer, focusing on the melee happening in the pit. It was well on its way and Jacaerys was… faring. She didn’t know how he was faring, but he wasn’t knocked out yet. 

Aemond was circling him like a wolf upon prey– a totally different technique than what he had done with Criston. He had let Criston come to him, rather than facing him head on. It was almost sickly how he was playing with him before the slaughter. There was a dangerous glint in Aemond’s eye that only Shera seemed to catch– did he mean to kill Jace? She remembered a similar glint in his eye when he raised the rock to Jacaerys’ head in the tunnels under Driftmark–

Aemond surged forward and steel met steel, their swords clashing together. Jace had chosen a shortsword as well, parrying his opponent’s thrust– barely. He knocked the white-haired prince back slightly, catching his breath. 

Once again, that sickly smile spread across Aemond’s face. “Tired already, Jacaerys? We’ve barely begun!” he continued his walk around his nephew, twirling his sword.

“Hardly, uncle. All you’ve done is dance around me. How about an actual fight, ey?” Jace quipped back. 

Shera had to give him credit where it was due. Jace was brazen. Taunting an already unhinged Aemond and being mayhaps a bit stupid– but brazen nonetheless. 

“A swordsman knows how to pick his fights and when to wait, doesn’t he?” Aemond’s eye flicked to the ramparts where Daemon was still looming. “Has your stepfather not taught you that?”

“You’re both talking a bit too much for my liking,” Cregan grunted, his hand itching on his own sword, which he had already unsheathed. It was the Stark’s ancestral weapon, a huge greatsword aptly called Ice. Cregan handled it with ease– Shera wouldn’t even be able to lift it. “Go on, Jacaerys.”

“Go on, Jacaerys,” Aemond taunted in a similar tone, his hackles raised. He looked slightly manic in the moment. “Let's see what your stepfather has taught you– if anything. I thought you were supposed to be strong.” 

Jacaerys raged forward, spurred by his rising anger. Their swords clashed again with such force that sparks flew from the metal. Aemond thwarted him off, pushing him backwards into the dirt, shrugging his shoulders. 

Despite being pushed down, Jace still got up, coming at Aemond again and again, each slash more sloppy than the last, but fueled with spite. His uncle continued to parry him, to push him, to sweep him aside with ease– it was a game to him.

“Keep your attacks focused, Jacaerys,” Cregan commanded. “He’s getting tired, I can see it.”

“I can go all day, Stark!” Aemond barked, his violet eye pierced solely on Cregan now as he thwarted Jacaerys’ heavy-handed blows without even looking at him. “Let’s make a wager, shall we? If your… pup here wins, I’ll personally pay for you and your troops to have a trip to the Silk Street– the best brothel. If I win– I get to take your sister for a ride on my dragon.” 

Ah, fuck. Cregan’s hackles rose and he shoved off his fur cape. “Don’t talk about my sister, you beast,” the vein in Cregan’s neck throbbed and Shera knew it would come to blows between the Warden of the North and the One-Eyed prince. “You wouldn’t know a real fight if it hit you in the face.” 

“Oh, please– now give me a moment so I can pummel your little pup into the ground and show your sister a real dra–” Aemond’s voice was cut off as Cregan punched him squarely in the face, right in his nose. Blood dripped from his nostrils and he then raised his sword to Cregan. “Fine.”

Their bodies tensed and Jacaerys saw the opportunity to walk away, thoroughly exhausted and not wanting to get in between the two of them. 

They were about to clash swords once more in a very real manner and Shera stood up from her chair hastily, opening her mouth to say something– but she was cut off. 

“Aemond!” an authoritative voice called from the rampart. It was Otto Hightower, hand of the King– and Aemond’s grandsire. “Forgo your petty spar and meet me in the Tower of the Hand. Promptly.” 

The mania in Aemond’s eyes and aura faded, snuffing it out once more– just like his rage at the dinner. “Of course. Good fight, Jacaerys,” he nodded his head to his nephew, then looked to Cregan. “Stark.” he uttered before spitting blood onto the dirt, wiping his bleeding nose with the back of his hand. He didn’t even look at Shera as he ascended the steps and followed his grandsire. 

“I notice you did not greet me, Lady Stark,” Daemon hummed as he loomed behind her. “Am I not worthy of your respect?” 

“... you were quite far away, Prince Daemon. I simply cannot project my voice that far, forgive me.” she droned, blinking profusely at the turn of events. 

“My nephew said he would’ve taken you on a ride upon his dragon– care to enlighten me what that might mean?” he continued, tapping ringed fingers on the stone barrier.

“I presume he would take me on a ride on Vhagar,” she muttered, edging away from Daemon. “He would find it hard to get me upon his beast, even if he won the bet.”

“I’m sure he would. Your brother has a temper when it comes to you, it seems?”

“All men have tempers when it comes to women in their lives, do they not?” 

“That’s true.”

“I don’t imagine you would wish your daughter,” she cleared her throat, eyes looking to Baela, who was speaking to Jacaerys off to the side. “To be absconded to the North. Nor do I imagine you’re entirely pleased at the prospect of more Andal blood tainting your line.” 

“An apt observation, wolf. Though, I am not sure the North is meant for northerners, either. Some people just do not belong anywhere, it seems.” 

Fuck off, old man. “I wish you a good day, prince Daemon.” Shera whispered, bowing her head, careful of her veil placement. She could feel his gaze on her, leering at her, trying to figure out what was beneath.

“Cregan– I am going to lunch with Helaena,” Shera tried to call down, but her voice didn’t project. He was caught up talking very animatedly to Jacaerys and Baela– Rhaena was off to the side, not saying much.

Shera let out an errant puff of agitation and left the training yard. She stopped at her chambers before going to Helaena’s– she took off the errant piece of flowing fabric from her outfit and put it on the desk. 

– 

Aemond returned to his chambers hours later after being thoroughly chewed out by his grandsire for ‘behavior unbecoming of a prince’. Is this how it felt to be Aegon?

His nose ached and he was sure that northern beast had broken it. It mattered not, it will mend. Most things do in time.

He began to unlace his jerkin as he noticed a piece of cerulean fabric on his desk, pinned with a note.

My favor, for you.

There was no signature to whom had written it, only a crude drawing of a wolf. He rolled his eye, picking up the fabric. It was soft between his calloused fingers and smelled heavily of lavender and rosemary. It smelled of her– he could absorb it even with his broken nose.

A tiny smile perked at his lips for a moment. ‘Twas a real one.

#aemond fic #aemond x oc #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #house of the dragon aemond #prince aemond #aemond one eye #hotd fanfic #aemond fanfic #aemond fandom #my writing #banshees lament #aemond targaryen smut #aemond smut #hotd #house of the dragon #aemond x original female character #aemond x ofc

[sluttywoozi]

Buy A Boyfriend Pt. 2 || chs x reader

Summary: Direct continuation of Buy A Boyfriend! Part one here!

Content notes: suggestiveness, swearing, food mention, pda, im from florida so i'm allowed to roast it, continuing to push the sunscreen agenda lmk if u want recs, there's no sex again my bad, still gn reader, lmk if i missed anything!

Rating: T | Word Count: ~3k

@xufilmz @kfantasiescometrue @cosmicupoftea @soffrine @daddysoonyoung

Vernon’s basking in the sunshine, head tilted back and palms braced behind him on the brick retaining wall, when you exit the chem building. He doesn’t see you, his eyes closed to the sun, and his mind wandering. His fingers tap out rhythms, melodies, songs that have been stuck in his head since he saw you for the first time. He wonders if that moment will be something he remembers forever; it definitely felt pivotal to him, like something had been rewired within his brain. 

You plop down next to him, practically throwing your backpack to the ground and laying yourself out on the warm brick to rest your head in his lap. He startles a bit, feeling the sudden weight and then looking down to see you, smiling up at him. He can’t contain his grin or the minute bounces of his knees, but you don’t seem to mind. Reaching down to the other side, Vernon grabs the drink he’d gotten for you and hopes desperately that it’s right. He’d tried to be very clear with the barista but he’s not the best at ordering things, and he’s nervous you won’t like it. 

Your eyes light up even more and you spring up from his lap to make grabby hands at the drink. Laughing, Vernon hands the cup to you and feels his chest tighten when you take a sip and close your eyes in bliss. Your shoulders give a happy little wiggle and you start leaning forward to plant a kiss on his lips, Vernon’s eyes widening the closer you get to him. You’re going slowly, obviously giving him time to pull away, but he’s not going anywhere. 

Instead, he waits. The roaring in his ears gets louder the closer you get, and finally, Vernon closes the distance to press his lips to yours. His hand flies up to cup your cheek, cold and damp with condensation from the cup, not that you seem to mind. You return his kiss, lips sweet and pressure perfect, your own hand coming up to cover his before it slides down to cup his jaw, your thumb tracing over the sharp angle. He can’t stop himself from letting his tongue slip out to glide over your bottom lip, he’d been thinking about what you’d taste like for what feels like years. He’s not sure what he imagined - his brain is definitely not working at full capacity anymore - but whatever it was, you taste a million times better. 

Like spring sunshine and warm honey lemon tea and home and possibilities. 

Your lips leave his and his internal Nononononono starts up, his body following you without his permission. You just giggle, placing one last peck on his lips before laying back down and wrapping your lips around the straw to take a drink. His brain reels, fighting to reoxygenate itself and recover from the sensory overload. He absentmindedly sips his drink and rubs over your eyebrow with his thumb, his eyes roving over every feature only to settle on your lips time and time again. 

“Have you been out here the whole time? Are you wearing sunscreen?” You ask abruptly. 

Vernon immediately looks away, avoiding your eyes and (giddily) awaiting your scolding. 

“Vernon!” You exclaim, sitting up again, “the exam took like an hour and a half!”

You lean down to rifle through your bag, pens clacking against each other and sticky notes covered in little hexagons and lines falling out. Sighing in relief, your fingers find something in your bag and reappear to reveal… a tiny hand sanitizer and a pink tube? 

You sanitize your hands quickly, rubbing until the liquid dries and then squeeze out two fingertips worth of white liquid. Vernon tries not to jerk away from your fingers as they smooth the cold cream over his face, pressing it in gently in circular motions. It smells good for what he assumes is sunscreen, and doesn’t feel too heavy, so he leans in and closes his eyes, letting you work. Your fingertips trace his ears, gliding down to apply some to the back of his neck too, and he feels very protected in both his skin and his heart. 

He can’t stop smiling as he opens his eyes to find you already looking at him, your face shining with something he doesn’t recognize yet but gives him butterflies all the same. 

“How’d it go?” Vernon asks tentatively, hoping your good mood is an indicator of your success. 

Your brows scrunch and you think for a second, before your face smooths out and you answer, “I think I did well, there’s nothing that I absolutely didn’t know how to do and there were even some things that I absolutely did know how to do. Mostly I’m just glad to be done.” You seal your statement with a sip and Vernon starts grinning again, and hopes his cheeks hurt like this for the rest of his life. 

“Wanna go get lunch? My roommate left me his meal card so we can use his swipes if you want.” Vernon offers, begging you in his mind to say yes. He’s not sure where you’re from or if you’re going home for the summer but he wants all the time with you he can get. 

“Yes, let’s go!” You stand up, tugging him with you and throwing your backpack over your shoulder before he can grab it. He struggles to keep up with you, long legs working harder than usual and mind marveling at your speed. Do you usually walk this fast or are you just hungry for free food? 

You do usually walk this fast, Vernon discovers, fighting to match your pace as he walks with you back to your apartment. Unfortunately, you are leaving for the summer (he’s weeping internally), and had asked him if he wanted to hang out while you pack. He’d sprung at the opportunity, both to get more time with you and to see your space, knowing it likely would help him know you even better. 

It’s cleaner than he expected, not that he thought you’d be messy but his own room is a wreck every finals week regardless of how prepared he is. Not you though, trinkets arranged carefully on your desk and folded clothes sitting on your bed. Your room smells like you and as he drops down onto your bed - ooooh is this memory foam? - the scent envelops him and he starts to feel a little sleepy. He refuses to nap through your packing though, knowing that he won’t get to see you until August when the semester starts back up again. You don't live too far from him, only a few hours’ drive, but you have an internship in another state set up and you’re going straight there. The cats are already with your cousin and your family is coming soon to take everything left behind to a storage unit or home. 

Vernon misses you already, observing your packing with fond eyes and a full heart. You’re methodical, meticulous, as you box up your room and a semester’s worth of memories. You seem to have a system, one he can’t figure out but apparently it works because you’re putting things away at the speed of light. It’s like he’s watching sand slip through an hourglass with every box you tape shut, the time he has left with you decreasing steadily. 

He tries not to feel sad though, getting to know each other on SVTHub first gives him hope that he’ll feel close to you even when you’re gone, and he reminds himself that you hadn’t even been within reach until a few hours ago. 

But now you are and Vernon is thinking thoughts, lots of different thoughts as he watches you flit around your room, organizing and packing things away. He tries not to stare at your ass when you reach up high in your closet to get a duffle bag. Your fingers only brush it and he wonders how high up the closet goes before realizing he should probably help you. 

He stands and rubs his palms on his jeans, just in case they’ve gotten sweaty with his nerves. Moving over to you, he takes a deep breath and taps his fingers on the door so he doesn’t startle you. You let out a little oh! and move aside so he can grab it. Even Vernon has to step up on his toes to get a handle on the bag, and he wonders how you got it up there in the first place. 

“Thank you!” You sing and bring the duffle over to your bed, starting to pack up the folded clothes. He observes as you decide what skincare to bring, apparently having to narrow it down due to the liquid requirements on planes. You have a lot of products, and Vernon wonders if you use them all or if you alternate or if you just can’t stop buying more. 

“I’m on a self-imposed skincare purchasing ban.” You tell him with a pout, answering the question just a few seconds after it entered his brain. Vernon narrows his eyes, pondering the possibility of you being telepathic, before he decides there’s no way. 

You would have scolded him for his thoughts already if that was the case. 

“Discipline is hard but worth it sometimes,” Vernon says pragmatically. Your pout shifts to the side to become a scrunch and you nod once, accepting his words. You move onto haircare next, picking and choosing with discernment, and he asks what each product is for just so he can listen to you talk. 

Your voice is even better in person, the warm blanket feeling returning and then intensifying into a crackling fire, something to keep him cozy on cold and lonely nights. Vernon turns things over in his mind as you continue packing, realizing slowly that he honestly can’t wait to be your boyfriend. Sure, he technically is now, but he can’t wait to do all the boyfriend things with you. 

He can’t wait to surprise you with a picnic on the green after an exam. He can’t wait to text you good morning and call you goodnight, everyday. He can’t wait to buy you things and send you songs just because they make him think of you. He can’t wait to memorize your favorite orders and artists and authors. Vernon just can’t wait to be your boyfriend. 

He hopes he’s a good one, he’s had a lot of practice after all. 

Vernon’s driving you to the airport. You don’t talk much and neither does he, the mood a bit somber. 

You’d said something before about a friend taking you, but he’d begged and pleaded to be the one, and loaded your suitcase and backpack into the trunk of his (once) white 1997 Toyota Corolla with barely suppressed glee. 

The joy died a bit when he remembered why he was taking you to the airport, and he wonders now if it would be too much too soon to ask if he can go with you. But he’s already signed up for summer classes and you’re sharing a dorm with someone else, and he knows it’s not possible. Maybe he could visit you though, it’s not too long of a flight and he’s got some money saved up. He’s not a big spender, mostly using his SVTHub paychecks on music production equipment or legos or food, so there’s plenty for him to spend a few days in a hotel. 

Would you be comfortable staying with him? By then you’d have been fake dating for four months and real dating for two, which adds up to six months in his book. But you hadn’t been thinking of him as a boyfriend from the start, not like he’d been thinking of being your boyfriend this whole time. But it wouldn’t hurt to ask, right?

“Do you think maybe I could… come up and see you for a few days?” Vernon asks, feeling like his throat is clogged up with nerves. He wishes he could turn to look at you but he refuses to be anything but the safest of drivers with you in the car. You contemplate for a little bit, about what he’s not sure. He hopes you’re not trying to figure out how to say no gently, hopes he’s made you comfortable enough to be honest with him. 

“Hmmm, I think we have a break halfway through. What if we went on a weekend trip together instead?” You propose. 

His hands grip the wheel suddenly, knuckles white and heart racing as he swivels his gaze to you for a second. You look calm, like you’re thinking about something but not nervous about it at all. 

“You’d want to do that? With me?” Vernon confirms, only slightly ecstatic you feel this safe with him. Not like he could literally jump for joy or anything like that, for sure not. 

“Well, yeah, I brought it up, didn’t I? And who else would I want to do it with?” You remind him with a laugh.

Vernon tries not to focus on the ‘who else would I want to do it with’ part and instead, like a well-adjusted adult, moves on with the conversation. 

“Why don’t we start planning when you get settled in? We could always brainstorm locations now, though,” Vernon offers, hoping you want to go somewhere pretty so he can take a bunch of pictures of you. Then again, you’ll be prettier than anywhere he could go so he’d be fine with a dumpster, or maybe even Florida, as long as he was with you. 

You exchange ideas, time passing much too quickly for Vernon, and he slows down the car in hopes to draw out the drive a bit more. You’re the chronically early type, he’s learned, four hours still standing between you and your flight. He hopes you won’t care if he parks and comes into the airport with you; he would take you all the way to your gate if he could. 

But he can’t, so Vernon pays the parking fee and shoulders your duffle, lifting your suitcase out of the trunk and ignoring your attempts to take it from him. On your last reach, he grabs your hand and shouts, “Snatched!” into the parking garage. The word echoes through the hollow building and combines with the rolling sound of your suitcase to make an interesting beat, and he files it away in his head for later. 

He hears you laugh and looks over to see you skip a bit to catch up with him, and he can only smile his softest smile and allow his heart to fill up his chest. 

Vernon honestly can’t believe his luck. You’d messaged him out of the blue, effortlessly shattering his routine of being the ‘perfect’ boyfriend. You’d made him consider things he’d never even thought to think about: pigeons and feline psychotherapy and his internal biases against movies with smart, peppy, conventionally attractive female leads. 

You’d given him so many things to look forward to each day, shared with him so much of your life.

You’d let him know you. 

Vernon’s a bit glad, honestly, that you came into this not realizing exactly what service you were receiving. You didn’t have any expectations of him and you’d opened up to him freely; you never felt the need to perform and you’d never asked it of him either. That’s probably why he fell in lo-

His steps slow as you approach the escalators, coming to a stop and accidentally yanking you back when you moved onward. 

“Fuck, sorry sorry sorry,” Vernon breathes through his teeth, grimacing. He brings his free hand up to rub at your shoulder and squeezes the one entwined with yours in apology. 

You just eye him with a small smile, moving closer to him and squeezing back, three times. Does that mean something? He feels like that means something. 

Suddenly you’re even closer, and Vernon’s eyes nearly cross before they close as your lips press into his. He kisses you back instantly, instinctively, hand flying from your shoulder to cup your face and draw you into him. Resisting the urge to moan into your mouth, Vernon gently bites at your bottom lip and squeezes your hand, three times. 

He feels you giggle into the kiss and can’t contain his smile enough to kiss you back anymore. The laugh bubbles up out of his chest and your own grows in volume and he just stands there with you, swinging your hand and grinning in the middle of a busy airport. 

Vernon knows you need to go soon and that he should probably let go of you, but he can’t just yet. Your eyes are sparkling at him, your hand is warm in his, and he feels your cheek flush under the palm of his hand. He realizes he’s been staring at you for too long, and now his own cheeks spark with heat. 

“You should probably go and get through security, huh?” Vernon asks, trying (failing) to keep the sadness out of his voice. He wonders why his throat feels so itchy, he hasn’t gotten anywhere near a peanut lately. Stifling a sniffle, Vernon shrugs it off, literally, shifting your duffle onto the suitcase and tightening the straps, ensuring it’ll stay on. He looks back up to you with foggy eyes (when was the last time he went to the eye doctor?) and walks ahead to pull you beside the escalators. 

Your hand covers his on the suitcase handle, gently prying his fingers off and tangling them with your own so you’re holding both of his hands. He grasps your hands tighter in his, squeezing thrice at the exact same time you do. Vernon can’t help but laugh again, and he moves your combined grip back to the suitcase handle, letting go and placing your hands on the bar alone. 

“I’ll see you soon?” Vernon says gently, knowing he’s looking at you with a softness he doesn’t think he’s ever felt before. He thinks he’s beginning to understand how all of his favorite love songs came to be, and when you kiss him and turn to step onto the escalator, he only feels his breath catch a little. 

Vernon watches as you rise with the escalator, blowing him a kiss and sending him one last little wave, before you disappear. His hand stays raised in the air, having flown up to catch both. If he clenches his eyelids closed really hard, he can almost feel them tingling on his palm like tiny birds. 

Vernon can’t wait to be the best boyfriend ever, and thanks himself for doing the work in advance for once. 

AN: ahhhh!! sorry there's no sex in this one, i'm already 1000 words into part 3 and they will fuck, i promise!!! there'll also be a lil bonus smut after part 3 and tbh i'll probs continue to revisit this couple bc i love them

Part 3

as always, i would love to hear your thoughts about this or just chat! feel free to come into my inbox!!

#vernon #vernon seventeen #chwe hansol #chwe vernon #chwe hansol x reader #vernon x reader #vernon x you #vernon x gn!reader #vernon fluff #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #svt series #seventeen series #kpop fluff #✨emily writes✨ #hansol x reader

[shadowcatzone]

i got tired of writing this, but it was in my drafts. Maybe worth a read. Give feedback. Between cynos jokes and ventis shenanigans, how funny is it.

-creator au. In which the creator knows that venti is barbatos and a wisp. Venti doesn't know the creator is the creator, he doesn't know that creator knows his identity and past. Also creator is forbidden from straight up telling their identity-

-they're being served a sticky honey roast-

Creator: ...wait, are you even able to digest that?

Venti: *raises eyebrow* why wouldn't i be?

Creator: oh, i just thought, because you're a, uh, ...a, bard?

Venti: *squints, then giggles* i think you misunderstand what a bard is!

Creator: *sigh of relief* really? I don't think i've ever seen you eat anything but apples...

Venti: *panics* oh, you know, i just really like apples!

Traveler: *thinking* this is almost painful to watch...

_____

Creator: i made you an apple pie.

Venti: ...why.

Creator: well, you said you really like apples, and this is way more filling than the raw ingredient!

Venti: *stares*

Creator: i promise there's nothing suspicious in it! And, it's fresh out of the oven so, it's still warm!

Venti: umm... thanks...

_____

Traveler: -unfortunately, the inteyvat doesn't exist anymore. Do you have a favorite flower?

Venti: Cecilia. They remind me of times bygone.

Creator: oh, i really like the windwheel aster! As for why, well... hm, maybe i'm just particularly devoted to barbatos...?

Traveler: *nudging venti* "devoted to barbatos" eh~

Venti: *sighs* oh, that reminds me! Did i ever tell you about when barbatos fell asleep in a wine barrel?

Creator: *giggles* venti, that's blasphemous! Besides, there's no need to be jealous- i like you at least as much as i like barbatos!

Venti: *shocked* wh- what? Wait, that's not what i-

Traveler: *smug* don't worry, venti, barbatos doesn't hold a candle to you~

_____

Venti: *deadpan* you're a goddess, aren't you?

Creator: *speechless* ...venti, h-how can you flirt with such a s-serious expression?

Venti: ...i know you are. Drop the act.

Creator: ...i'm certain if you continue like this, you'll gain the wrath of celestia.

_____

Creator: -i can be brown, i can be blue, i can be violet skies~ i can be-

Venti: HOW DO YOU MANAGE NOT TO HIT A SINGLE NOTE!!

Creator: THE TEXT IS FAR MORE IMPORTANT ISN'T IT!!

Venti: HALF THE TEXT IS WRONG! YOURE JUST MAKING SHIT UP AS YOU GO!!

Creator: it- it is? Oh... sorry...

Venti: well- eh, well, why don't we practice together?

Venti: *thinking* SHIT I FUCKED UP SHIT I FUCKED UP I FUCKED UP I FUCKED UP-

Creator: uhm... *teary eyed* no, it's alright. Thanks for the offer though... i think i'll just go home for today.

Venti: i- i didn't-

Creator: no, it's okay... it's not- i mean, if you say-

Creator: ...you're the best bard in mondstadt. Ahaha- and i wouldn't want Barbatos to have to listen to me...

Venti: wait-

Creator: goodnight, venti... *leaves*

Venti: mh... *sighs*

Diluc: ...there were probably better ways to tell her that.

Venti: i know...

Diluc: no, i mean, because you're still in a tavern full of people.

Venti: ...oh! ...please, please mix me something strong. ...Best 3 whole bottles.

_____

Creator: *laying in bed* ...well. i already knew i sucked at singing. Now i-

-a loud *thump* against the window-

Creator: ...*rushes to open the window, gasps* are you-

Barbatos, in most of his archon glory: i~ ...don't know that bards problem, hic- *drapes himself over the windows edge* i really~ appreciated~ your singing~ hic!

Creator: *flabbergasted* ...are you drunk?

Barbatos: noooo~ i don't get drunk~

Some people from below: what the- is that a bird??

Creator: *panicked* ...forgive me. *pulls him in, then closes the window*

Barbatos: no~ forgive, me~ today-

Creator: *sighs* ...c'mon, let's get you to bed.

-she heaves him into her bed, with the intent of sleeping elsewhere, but gets pulled in by his wings-

Barbatos: *hugs her tight* noooo~ *immediately falls asleep*

Creator: ...how am i gonna explain this in the morning.

_____

Barbatos: *wakes up, slowly opens his eyes, rubbing them* ...good morning...?

Creator: *glares* good morning. I didn't sleep a wink.

Barbatos: hmm? Why not...?

Creator: are you kidding? You were smacking me with your wings!

Barbatos?: with my- ...OH!! THESE ARENT REAL!!

Creator: Barbatos. Please.

#i'm eating gilbird #genshin impact #genshin shitpost #genshin barbatos #genshin venti #venti x reader

[lorkai]

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: I wrote this a while back and recently was thinking "hey maybe tumblr folks would like this", I'm not used to write character x character, but these two are adorable and have my whole heart. I loved Venti at first sight when I started playing genshin and wrote tons of fics for him that I probably gonna post later. You can also read this fic on AO3.

Warm gusts of wind blew across her face, sending beads of sweat down her forehead as she ran up the hill, the smell of sunflowers dancing over her messy bangs as she forced her weak legs to keep running.

Normally Lumine would fight the monsters chasing her with the greatest pleasure. Fighting was what she had been doing since she woke up, but today her whole body was screaming for mercy and rest and she wasn't going to deny herself that, after having spent the day fighting hilichurls and abyss sorcerers, doing guild missions and entering multiple domains. All she could do now was run, run and hope her glider worked, any other time she would laugh at the way the stiff wings over her back made her feel. Now she just wanted those same wings to carry her to the safety of solid ground and away from these creatures.

Her heart beat quickly inside her chest as she spared one last look back. Everything was a mess, but she hoped Kaeya's ingenious plan would work - she was the bait everyone was chasing up the hill, but what the monsters didn't know was that a huge siege had been set up to defeat them.

"Don't worry." Paimon muttered.

The fairy pointed to Amber and her bow ready under one of the branches, to Kaeya and Jean hidden in the shadows of the leafy trees. The little fairy knew that Lumine's soft and empathetic heart wanted to continue fighting alongside her friends, but she would stop her this time. Her little hands gently pushing her friend's shoulders to encourage her to keep going.

"They'll be fine, come on, you promised Paimon we'd eat sticky honey roast." Paimon let out a small scream, making Lumine let out a long sigh and massaging her sore ears.

But she couldn't disagree with the fairy; her friends were strong. From all sides, Favonius' knights were attacking without mercy. Lumine's eyes followed every blow of cryo, pyro and anemo that flew everywhere. The ingenuity of the hilichurls and metachurls had cost them a lot and, if by chance, one of them survived the attack, they would certainly think and plan better next time.

Tired, the girl approached the cliff with slow steps, the tall grass brushing her ankles in a way that made her laugh softly. She would meet them down there anyway according to plan. Her job was done and she could leave without worrying about one of her friends getting hurt.

Lumine observed the way the terrain spread out in cobblestones, mud puddles still present due to the recurring rain that had ravaged Mondstadt these last few days. For a second she almost wanted to stand and admire the view, but finally she jumped. Paimon following closely behind her.

The wind enveloped her completely, as if it hugged her and invited her to glide without ever touching the ground again. The feeling of being in the air was freeing, freeing from the pressure of continually having to look for her brother without ever finding him, from the pressure of helping everyone just because she could and was strong. Lumine was a warrior, one who had been fighting forever, traveling world after world, one who had seen and defeated many monsters with her brother. And a warrior only stops fighting when no one needs them anymore; people still needed her - but now, the girl would rest.

When she reached a safe distance, Lumine activated her glider. Its long, white wings spread like those of an eagle, but instead of gliding they do nothing to stop its free fall. It's desperate; Her eyes widen, filling with tears as the wind whistles loudly in her ears and slaps her face repeatedly. As she sees herself quickly falling towards the abyss, Paimon screams and tries to grab her arms.

But it is flawed. The little fairy is unable to stop her friend from falling. And there is no one who can help now.

As she fall, shaking, Lumine thinks about her brother and how alone he will be. She think about the little fairy at her side, about all the Genius Invokation TCG rounds she won, about all of Venti's bad performances, about the archery lessons she took with Amber, about looking for Diona's cats, about the games with Klee and the incredible drinks that Diluc offered her after a tiring day. She remembers Jean's smile and Kaeya's silly comments.

Lumine opens her teary eyes, puts her hands together and uses her Anemo energy in order to stop her fall. She is moving too fast, falling as fast as the tears that soak her amber eyes, the wind that invited her was now the wind that carried her to her death, somewhere above she hears loud noises. Maybe, screams.

The ground is close now. Nothing and no one can stop it; or better said, the only person who can command the wind to his will would be Venti. The young woman's heart sank knowing that he was far away and that again he would lose someone he loved; her eyes close, the breath is lost in her lungs and she waits. She waits to fall and hit the ground, waits for a second of pain before disappearing from this world. But nothing happens.

"Come on, open your eyes!" A familiar voice whispers in her ears. And she feels herself shaking from head to toe.

Despite his small and graceful figure, Barbatos holds her in a gentle grip, hands entwining the young woman's waist as he looks at her with great care.

Lumine looks at Venti in surprise, grateful for his quick intervention. In his arms the girl trembles slightly, fear and apprehension, and gratitude flooding her chest as she realizes the gravity of the latest events. Beside her, Paimon flies over them both, unable to chant any words or make any sound, which only makes everything even more serious.

"Thanks." Lumine whispers with a shaky voice. Death is something that naturally surrounds her, but even for someone like her, death is scary. "Thank you, Venti. You saved me." She repeats, wiping her eyes as she hugs him tighter to herself.

There are things they share through their complicit looks, fear was the main emotion. The hug becomes stronger, suffocating, but neither of them moves away from the other for even a second as Venti uses his powers to slowly bring them to the ground. The bard looks at her tenderly, caressing her cheek with one of his hands and he speaks, his tone full of affectionate mockery. "I would be more than happy to reciprocate your feelings, Lumine. You didn't need to fall for me."

The girl smiles and rolls her eyes.

"How did you get here?"

It was a silly question. But for more than two hours he had been playing his harp and drinking as he always did, Diluc had sent her a bloody look when she left the tavern in the company of Kaeya and Amber. It didn't make sense for the bard to be there at that moment, he would have to travel for at least forty minutes to get there. Either way, she was happy he was there.

"I'm here, I'm there, I'm everywhere," Venti smiled for a brief moment. "I am like the wind and the wind told me that someone I care about was in danger."

The traveler nodded, seeming satisfied with the answer. Her feet finally touched the ground after a few seconds, but Lumine was still clinging to his green cape and refusing to leave his personal space. She was like a little leech invited to stay and Venti didn't mind that at all, letting her rest her face on his shoulder, breathe the fresh air again and, most importantly, feel alive, free from fear.

For someone who always made so many jokes and always had a smile on his face, Venti was quiet now, slowly taking Lumine with him to sit on the soft grass and lean against an old oak tree. The whole time he was holding her. The anemo archon deep inside was also afraid. He was afraid of losing Dvalin, of losing Mondstadt and losing her, the girl who slowly made him lose his barriers and saw him like no one in a long time had been able to.

"Everything will be fine." He assured her gently. One of his hands found its way to her blonde hair, playing with it as she looked at him completely exhausted. "I'm here now, nothing could hurt you."

Lumine forced a smile, her eyelids slowly closing. If exhaustion was consuming her before, after seeing her entire life flash before her eyes and imagining a future in which she would not be present, Lumine would need to hibernate for another five hundred years in order to recover from such past emotion. Sweat stuck to her complexion, mud stained her dress, but she could only feel a comfortable warmth as she continued to spoon the bard.

Beside her, Paimon hugged her arms, half trembling, half trying to appear stronger than she really was, and Lumine pulled the fairy closer until she was in the middle of the two. Like a child. Like their child.

"I know." She whispered.

Lumine knew that she would always be safe and sound if Venti was by her side. She knew that he would take care of herself, her injuries, that he would listen to her anxieties and fears, and that he would then motivate her to get up another day and try again. She knew she had a home in him just as he had one in her, she knew she could wake up after a nightmare and seek comfort in his arms, in his lyre and his singing, she knew that his husky voice after waking up would make her smile as much as the his messy hair. It was the little things that showed her that no matter what happened, Venti would be there for her.

For now, however, they could enjoy the rest and the silence, and the fact that they were still together and would be together for many years to come.

#genshin impact #genshin lumine #genshin venti #venlumi #lumiven #venti x lumine #lumine x venti #genshin venlumi #genshin lumiven #genshin paimon #lumine #venti #paimon

[anemo-test-6308]

"No worries," I tell her. "It's not every day you get to meet someone who's done something like that, let alone do it yourself, for that matter."

I find myself wanting to reach over and ruffle Sucrose's hair as she looks away, embarrassed. Why do I want to do that? I think. Is it some sort of older brother instinct or something? I don't even have any siblings.

I take a few bites of the Sticky Honey Roast. It certainly lives up to its name, but it's still really delicious.

"Do you know where Angel's Share gets their wine?" I ask Sucrose. "I think I might pay a visit to their supplier to see if I can get a recipe for Dandelion Wine."

- Cloud Strife

(Here's Cloud in drag because why not:

"Ah, actually Angel's Share produces it's own wine so if you'd like the recipe you'll have to ask master Diluc and his stoic self...But I-I think that will be easy for you, you're so charming! You'll win him over in no time i'm sure of that."

I give him an optimistic smile. "On the topic of wine and drinks...have you met little Diona?" I say, changing my position to a less stiff one "She's a little girl that weirdly works in a tabern and makes really good drinks! I-I've tried to study her but i'm afraid it might be too weird for someone my age to be following around a 10 year old?"

I notice I have gone on a small rant about sonething really weird, I feel myself turn red and look away from the man sitting infront of me "Oh, i'm so sorry mr. Cloud! That was really weird and out of nowhere, I didn't meant to–!"

[why's he- why's he in drag??? 😭]

#sucrose.experiments🔬 #sucrose #genshin rp

[danafeelingsick]

Ooh since it’s his birthday, can we have Diluc dealing with the aftermath of a birthday dinner gone wrong? Perhaps something was sour but he didn’t realize until it’s too late. Emeto ensues.

anon, i think i wrote way too much... i was halfway through this thing when i stopped and re-read your request and realized you didn't specify any caretaker, and the word aftermath kept nagging at me, like, it's supposed to be after. and i wrote a whole birthday party scene. so! i made one part, almost like an alternate ending to what i was writing originally. and i'll post the second part as soon as i'm done with it. but for now, here's your request.

ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ʙɪʀᴛʜᴅᴀʏ, ᴅɪʟᴜᴄ

ᴘᴀʀᴛ 1.5

NON-KINK BLOGS AND MINORS DNI

PART 1

PART 2

In which Diluc has to deal alone with the consequences of overeating at a birthday dinner.

ᴀᴏ3

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ alcohol mention, induced vomiting, mentioned fainting, light stuffing, overeating, food poisoning, throat finger!ng

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ 3,4k~

❝𝙷𝚒𝚜 𝚐𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚕𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚙𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚌𝚕𝚞𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎.❞

Diluc found himself silently thanking the wind for leaving the streets completely empty that night. The cold biting breeze left him shuddering, seeming to open gashes into his coat every time it blew over him.

No wonder no one was around, with the city's main tavern closed for the night, and not a single bard to entertain the passersby, why would anyone be? At least no one would see the pitiful face of distaste the young man had, for that he was grateful to the cold wind.

That gratitude, however, didn't extend to its archon, for he knew now the former didn't have a hand in it. As far as he could tell, that drunkard wasn't even in Mondstadt anymore.

The darknight hero suddenly stopped where he was, gripping a nearby wall as he felt a shuddering wave of nausea wash over him, leaving him dizzy and distrustful of his sights. It wouldn't be the first time it happened that night, each step he took would make him feel heavier and heavier.

How could he let this happen? He thought, bringing a hand to cover his mouth as a low sickly belch flew past his lips.

Diluc had been hopeful this dreadful day would go by and none would be privy to it. He had been naive, so naive to think any would respect his wishes, and let him enjoy his birthday in peace.

Was it even his birthday still? He looked up to see the full moon casting its silver light down on him. It should be past midnight by now, just another day like any other.

As it should be. Hell, he should've realized sooner when Charles dismissed him so nonchalantly, saying he could very well take care of the bar on his own. And how cordial the maids had been, when they would normally cower around him. Even Kaeya, who hadn't seen him all day, managed to track him down and refused to leave his side until he came with him to the Knight's headquarters under the guise of some business meeting.

“Ugh…”, Diluc grimaced as he recalled the shouts of surprise, and that slimy smirk on Kaeya's face as he bared his way out.

His gut had already cowered in anticipation as he saw the feast cluttering the table. Diluc wasn't someone weak of stomach, but having so much food crammed in his belly in such a short period ensured a bad time later on. And to top it all off, he was sure something he ate had gone sour.

He wouldn't put it past him, given how unfavorable luck had been to his side that day, and how Kaeya had arranged that impromptu birthday party. Each guest had brought a dish of their own, resulting in varying qualities in culinary and presentation.

The Outrider, Amber as he recalled it, had tried her hand at preparing Sweet Madames and Sticky Honey Roasts, trying to fill in the absence of the traveler as they were out somewhere in a land beyond the sea. After a bite or two, Diluc just couldn't stomach any more of it, the chewy texture and the sheer abuse of seasoning quickly became too much for him, no matter how much she insisted.

While Jean's mushroom pizzas had been a palate cleanser, and Eula's moon pies had been filling enough, there were simply too many dishes to sample properly. And the lingering taste of alcohol in everything Kaeya had cooked… Diluc had his gut complaining under his tight belt in no time.

It was already dark out when he finally got to leave the Knight's headquarters. And now he could only hope no one would spot him like that, staggering his way home in the middle of the night, like a pitiful boozer with nowhere to go.

The former captain scowled as he heard his stomach give a low growl as it tried to settle, viciously churning the heavy mass of food sitting stubbornly inside. He could almost feel it brushing past the inner walls of his guts as he felt it tossing and turning inside.

Paying too much attention to it already had his tongue driving back with weak gags, so instead, he focused on swallowing. Diluc closed his eyes, drowning out his vision that seemed to be slightly tilted. He gulped, once, twice, then breathed through his nose, hoping any voluntary motion would take his mind off the nausea.

The constant intake of saliva only seemed to be adding to the fullness of his stomach, leaving his esophagus with the impression of a ghostly hand pinching it from the inside. His mouth was filling with drool quicker than he could swallow. It was starting to take more and more after the taste of something he had eaten.

“...urp–”, he had to clog his mouth shut as he felt a bubble of air suddenly rise past his gullet, bursting in the back of his tongue with a foul acidic sting.

It tasted like grape juice, he realized with a shuddering exhale leaving his nostrils, how clearly it tasted sickly sweet and strongly acidic, unbearably bitter as it washed over his tongue.

Halfway through the night, he had already drained an entire bottle in between bites, it was the only thing he could properly stomach after eating so much off-tasting food.

Diluc clasped a hand firmly over his mouth when he felt a muffled gag cause his chest to hitch, trying to suppress the clear image of the undercooked meat dripping from his fork, the slimy chewy texture, the bizarre taste.

He could feel something shifting inside his queasy stomach, sending more air to rest in the back of his tongue before he could swallow it. Diluc was desperate for any form of relief from the pressure in his stomach, so he tried to carefully burp behind his hand.

“...guh… buur–”, he let out a startled hiss as his cheeks suddenly bulged out, a watery surge flooding his mouth.

Fuck, fuck. His mind was screaming at him now, shifting all of his attention to the solid clumps of undigested food swirling inside his mouth, rolling over his tongue. He had to– without thinking, he tried swallowing, bit by bit, feeling chunks of undigested meat and boiling acid travel down his throat.

It felt utterly revolting, being forced to taste twice the meal he'd been forced to eat mere hours ago, but he couldn't just let it happen now. It was unthinkable to have him dirtying the streets with the contents of his pitiful stomach. Enough drunkards were left to do this, he refused to become another.

The poor man was wheezing behind his gloved hand, swallowing convulsively as he tried to clear the taste of vomit out of his mouth. Once he could open his eyes again, he shakingly lowered his hand, glancing at it to see there was a smear of drool coating it.

The restless churning of his stomach contents and the loud gurgling sounds only seemed to worsen. He held a clean hand carefully over the curve of his belly, feeling something shift constantly under his skin and his form-fitting clothes.

It felt like his legs were made out of cotton as he took a step forward, followed by another, then another. He had to shift all of his attention into putting one foot in front of the other, right then left, and somehow not mess this up.

His mind was far away as he walked, tracking the way to his home out of muscle memory. On a good night, Diluc would commute in a few minutes, without a single soul spotting him as he stuck to the shadows. Now, he had no notion of time, but no less than an hour had been spent and he was only halfway there.

He could only hope he would have enough control to command his stomach contents down and his legs forward. All he knew was he needed to get home before he had the chance to fall ill again.

***

It was… so cold. The darknight hero had his arms folded tightly over his chest as he started approaching the winery. It wasn't the wind anymore, a ghostly chill seemed to be following him wherever he went, refusing to let go as it cloaked him in a shuddering blanket.

His fingers were nearly numb as he gripped the handle and flung open the front door. A couple of steps inside and it was gone, almost like it wanted to see him home safe, but he didn't let go of his position. Diluc seemed to be operating with muffled hazy orders ringing inside his head, he made a beeline for his bedroom, ignoring, or rather, barely listening to the timid greetings of his servants.

The nausea was now dizzying, muffling his senses as if he was underwater, listening in to the distant sounds of his stomach groaning. The door creaked as he pushed it, then creaked again as he closed it behind him.

He staggered towards his bed and sat, his wary body sinking into the mattress as it begged for a rest. Diluc felt like he could just fall over as he lazily undid the clasps of his boots and kicked them off to a corner.

Next, his coat slid out of his shoulders, falling away to the other side of the bed and disappearing over the edge. He fought a fierce battle against his belts, undoing them with the unskilled fingers of a sickly man.

“...phew”, he let out a puff of air as the pressure over his belly was finally released, ridding himself from his shirt as well as the mere brush of fabric over it spelled discomfort.

Diluc looked down to see his otherwise lean abdomen had been forced into an unusual curve, the skin stretching over it like and taking an odd pinkish tone, making it look too similar to a flustered anemo slime as if puffed out. He dared to graze his fingers over it, morbidly impressed by how noticeably it had altered his shape.

The flesh practically pushed back on his fingers, he could feel how full his stomach was under the outer layers, like the bloated gut of a decomposing carcass. He settled a hand over it, careful as to not apply any pressure, and felt the distinct motion of his stomach twisting under there, almost like a colony of critters writhing inside a trap, wrapped in a ball of cloth, squirming.

He didn't want to think about it, but his mouth was watering profusely, his tongue almost heavy with a thick coating of off-tasting saliva. He could still faintly taste the vomit he had to swallow back multiple times during his way here. Maybe it would be best to just let it out, he thought, feeling his stomach almost jump in agreement.

Diluc rose his eyes and searched his moonlit room, hoping to find anything he could drag under his bed just in case he needed it. He knew he was going to need it, and thankfully, a small bucket had been left from gods know what purpose, maybe some careless maid had left it. He was more than thankful for their incompetence now.

The young master got up, and stumbled towards the wooden bucket, momentarily kneeling in front of it as he thought of just giving up and sleeping right there, safe from the threat of dirtying his bed. His muscles ached from the strenuous walk from Mondstadt city to here, a commute he could easily muster multiple times if necessary, in a better state of mind, of course. But as of now, it left him sore and with ragged breath.

He was definitely drunk, he concluded, of the few meat skewers he had eaten, and the countless glasses of grape juice he had used to wash down the awful parts of that feast. Someone could've easily swapped his drink for wine, and him, with his taste buds fried and mind somewhere greener, would be none the wiser. For that, he swore to strangle Kaeya.

He gripped the bucket as if it was a tender neck and dragged it to the foot of his bed, then to his lap. Part of him wanted to wrap himself in blankets and just hug the bucket until relief came, but the other part barely wanted to move, so he stayed there, slumped over and staring somewhere off, trying to focus on the noises of his stomach.

“ghh…”, he groaned, nausea still swirling inside him, leaving him groggy and miserable, but quite there.

He held his mouth open, panting as he felt pain twisting his inner organs, letting saliva drip into the bucket, the sounds almost sharp in contrast with the silence. His stomach wouldn't stop writhing, loud gurgles coming from it as it tried to mix the food and drink crammed tightly inside, churning but unable to digest any of it.

The sickly man was only able to produce a few short queasy burps as he tried to flex the muscles of his throat. It frustrated him, he was sick and in pain, he needed to get whatever was harming him out but he wouldn't have it that easy. If could go back and curse his past self for cutting his vomiting spell short, he would, but for now, he could only feel miserable about it.

Why only now was his gag reflex being stubbornly strong? He was never like this. At the first sign of someone tampering with his food, he would be quick to pry it out using his fingers, just for safety. He wasn't opposed to vomiting, maybe a little apprehensive about it, but it was something he learned to face as a necessary evil.

Diluc looked at his hand, thinking long and hard about if it would be worth it. He was still wearing his gloves, the bright red and black fabric stood out against his pale marked skin, it was surprising how he managed to miss it.

He had to, he thought, remove the glove with his teeth and set it aside. Shakingly, almost timidly, he raised two fingers and introduced them inside his mouth, carefully trailing the extent of his tongue. It felt awfully warm and tender against his skin, saliva coating his fingers in a thick slimy layer.

“...ha… guh–”, he let out as he reached the gullet, causing a weak gag to make his throat clench around his fingers.

He couldn't stop now, so he went even deeper with the middle one, feeling around the soft meat writhing against his touch. He started stroking his tongue, slowly at first, driving his fingers in and out of his throat. It didn't take long for him to gag harshly, his stomach jumping and landing with a wet slosh, sending its contents crawling up his food pipe.

It wasn't enough to get him to vomit. He kept stroking desperately, his throat clenching, trying to choke out his fingers. He gagged again, so harshly his eyes watered. His stomach inching closer with each stroke.

He waited for another painful gag, the sound of his forced retching scrapping at his throat, leaving it raw and tender. Saliva flowed into the bucket, each harsh cough sending it spraying into his hand, sliding down his skin, and slithering towards his wrist.

He was close, he thought, forcing another gag and quickly retrieving his hand as a wet belch erupted out of him, bile prickling his tongue. So close.

“...ughh… gh…”, he panted, his mouth hanging open as a series of short wet burps left him, each bringing him closer and closer to finally– “huurk–”, he anticipated a small gush of vomit spraying out of him, nearly missing the wooden bucket in his lap as he readjusted his position.

There it was. Diluc nearly winced at the pungent taste of acid on his tongue, it barely resembled grape juice as it fell into the bucket, but he could still distinguish its taste. Far worse than what he had swallowed before.

He went back to stroking his tongue, hoping to rid his stomach of a little more pressure, as that amount meant nothing. This time he wasn't being so gentle, digging his fingers mercilessly into his throat as he felt himself getting desperate.

”...huu… urgGGHH”, he retched into his bare hand, his stomach writhing from the violent motion, but he didn't stop until he felt its contents bubbling at the back of his throat. “BuuUuuUURGHHhh.”

A gush of thin disgustingly warm vomit shot out of his mouth before he could retrieve his fingers, he nearly winced as the sickening boiling concoction completely coated his hand. It dripped unevenly inside the bucket, barely a cup's worth of semi-fermented and acidic grape juice.

Diluc shakingly held his soiled dripping hand over the bucket, panting miserably with threads of drool hanging from his mouth.

He must have looked truly pitiful as he was now, barely dressed, sickly and pale, and even then, struggling to get the offending poison out of his system. His head felt heavier and heavier, his eyes wanting to roll to the back of his skull as his body begged for rest.

His throat was sore and bruised from all the abuse, and still, he hadn't even tapped into the food he'd stuffed into his overtaxed stomach. It gave a low ill growl as it agreed, almost coaxing him into continuing.

With a defeated grumble, Diluc shoved the now cold and slimy fingers into his throat, just the sensation of it, the odd shock of temperature, and the texture of his saliva against his tongue earned a weak unproductive gag out of him.

He tried not to think about it, taking the involuntary motion of his gullet to introduce his fingers even deeper, moving them as if he was trying to pry himself open.

“...ah… ha…”, he panted, trying to squeeze in struggling wet breaths in between audible gags, the air rushing in and out grazing his skin. “hah–”, wheezing with half a hand down his throat maybe had been the answer to his problems, as he nearly choked.

Diluc didn't have it in his mind to muffle the coughing fit that followed, he didn't even bother to remove his fingers, choosing to hold his tongue down as he kept hacking over the bucket. His fit quickly evolved into retching so violently his shoulders were jumping with each one.

“...urggGH–”, he coughed out, feeling something painfully dense climb up his food pipe, cutting his breath short as he struggled with it. His hand was trembling, his nail digging into his tongue out of nervousness

It took a couple of weak shivering strokes for him to finally feel vomit burst out of his mouth, a lumpy dense slurry covered his hand and sprayed up to his upper arm, lumps of nearly untouched food sliding off him and dripping softly on the bucket.

Once he started, there was no stopping it. A heavier wave of vomit splashed inside the bucket followed the first, this one more than just a mouthful, adding a new layer of filth to the bucket.

“EeeeuUURRrrrgh!”

Diluc had his eyes screwed shut as he struggled with each new surge of chunky almost sharp vomit leaving his throat razed. He could feel so clearly the lumps grinding the walls as they left him, pouring into the bucket like unrelenting rain on the roof of his house. His hearing was muffled.

When he could finally breathe properly he found himself slowly slipping forward, the bucket now glued to his chest as the arm laced around it bent awkwardly. Diluc parted his lips only to find two fingers jammed in between them, his teeth buried into them.

He blinked, and how long had passed? Maybe less than a minute, he hadn't properly fainted but still, he desperately needed rest.

Diluc let out a shuddering breath as he adjusted himself, one look at the bucket had his lips hitching into a grimace as he spat out, trying to rid his mouth of the vile taste.

“Fuck… ugh”, he groaned, his voice a husky pained whisper.

At the very least, he had managed to rid himself of some of that cursed food, but he didn't have the chance to savor the relief. He didn't feel any different, arguably he felt even worse.

That didn't matter now. He'd have to deal with that in the morning. Diluc settled the bucket under his bed, not enough energy left in him to even think about getting rid of it.

His body sunk into the mattress, the wooden frame creaking despite how light, shriveled he felt. As soon as the back of his head hit the pillow, he welcomed sleep.

***

#emeto #emetophilia #vomiting #overeating #light stuffing #fainting #induced vomiting #gen/shin imp/act #di/luc #mentioned kae/ya #mentioned je/an #mentioned am/ber #hurt and discomfort #stomach ache whump #nausea #tw alcohol mention #requested #dana//emeto fic #my writing

[steadybelieverpersona]

Ch.1:The City of Freedom, Dragon Storm and Knights of Favonius

TW: Kaeya and Mentions of 18+

"Thoughts"

*actions*

Paimon: Finally, we don't have to camp outside anymore, but...the city folk don't look too cheery

Y/n: Everyone's been put out of place by Stormterror recently. But everything will turn out fine as Jean's with us!

Paimon: Jean?

Amber: Acting Grand Master of the Knights of Favonius -- Jean, defender of Mondstat. With Jean on our side, surely even the vicous Stormterror will be no match for us.

Aether: "I hope she knows something about the God of Anemo"

Amber: Before I take you guys to the Knights of Favonius Headquarters, I have a present for you, Aether. It's a reward for helping me clear out that hilichurl camp.

Paimon: He-Hey! Why doesn't Paimon get a reward?

Y/n: Yeah!!! I also helped!!!

Amber: Ahh...Because this reward is useless to you, Paimon and you already have this gift that I'm about to give to Aether Y/n. But I'll treat you both to a traditional Mondstat delicacy -- Sticky Honey Roast.

Paimon/Y/n: *excited* Sticky Honey Roast!

Amber: Come with me, we'll head to the city's ahh...high ground

After they get to the city's high ground, Amber presented Aether the gift

Amber: The present I want to give you is, A Wind Glider

Y/n: Outriders use them to ride the wind, and the people of Mondstadt love using them too, I especially enjoy using them!

Amber: I brought you here to give it to you so you can experience it right away!

Paimon: Oh, you're both really excited about these wind gliders, huh!

Y/n: Well, that's because the wind is the heart and soul of Mondstadt. It's very obvious, Paimon...

Amber: Alrighty then, enough talk! Let's give it a whirl! It's easy to use, but you still need to pay attention to my instructions

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After the gliding tutorial, the sky would turn dark quickly

Y/n: *looks up* The sky...

The dragon from before would return, and the people then start to run away into shelter as the dragon summons tornados

Amber: Run!!!

Aether: *gets sucked into the tornado and gets sent into the sky and starts gliding to prevent himself from falling*

Paimon: *with Aether* Huh? How are you staying afloat like this with just a Wind Glider?

???: I'm preventing your fall with the power of a thousand winds, Now, concentrate. See yourself grasping the wind. Harness its energy.

Paimon: *scared* Who...who said that!?

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After damaging the dragon

Aether: *accidently unaquipped his Wind Glider falling* Ahhh!!

Y/n: *makes a lot of bubbles in order to make a staircase for him to land on* jump on the bubbles to land!!!

Aether: *lands safely on the ground*

Amber: A-Are you hurt?

???: *clapping* You've actually got the power to go up against the dragon... Are you a new ally...or a new storm?

Y/n: "I'm a head out while their talking"

Kaeya: Also, Jean told me to go get you Y/n since you left headquarters even though you're grounded

Y/n: *gets stopped by Amber* Really now?

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???: Jean, what's the hurry? I thought we agreed to meet them here.

Jean: There have been sightings of Stormterror outside the city. Once we meet, we must...

???: Relax. I'll lend a hand when the time comes.

Kaeya: *carrying a squirming Y/n like a sack of potatoes* Jean, I've brought them

Y/n: Put me down, you one eyed wanna be pira-*feels Kaeya slap her butt*

Kaeya: "Heh, still as round, big and plump as ever, perfect for--"

Jean: *angry* Kaeya!!! Put Y/n down and don't do that!!!!

Y/n: *kicks his knees hard when he puts her down*

Kaeya: agh!! *tries to ignore the pain and explains to Jean what happened* ...And once it was over, I brought them straight here.

Jean: Mondstadt welcomes you, windborne travelers. I am Jean, Acting Grand Master of the Knights of Favonius. This is Lisa, our resident librarian.

Lisa: Oh! Are you sweeties here to help us out? You're both so adorable! Sadly, the timing is regrettable...Stormterror has caused quite a ruckus in the region since its recent resurgence. Simply put, Mondstadt's elemental sphere and ley lines are now akin to a yarn ball in the paws of a kitten. For a mage, it couldn't get much worse. My skin is one elemental particle away from a full-blown breakout.

Y/n: *confused* But you look the same as always, Big sister Lisa, you wouldn't change at all if that happens

Lisa: *giggles darkly* Do you want more grounding time, dear?~

Y/n: No thank you!!!

Jean: Anyways, if it weren't for this interference, the Knights of Favonius would have better ways to help you than just putting up missing person posters. We simply ask that you repose in Mondstadt while we help you seek out your sister

Aether: Alright, I really should help out as well.

Paimon: Paimon will help too!

Keaya: Good. In that case, we need a plan.

Y/n: Yeah, I don't think you're suitable for that Kaeya since you probably don't even have a brain to think to begin with since it's probably a block of ice like your vision. *crosses her arms and looks away with a huff*

Kaeya: *ticked off* Hey!!!

Jean: *sighs* With Stormterror now directly attacking Mondstadt, we may have an opportunity to cut this problem off at the source. Lisa has revealed the sources of Stormterror's power with her detection magic.

Lisa: Stormterror's ability to whip up these kinds of storms can be attributed to it drawing power from the temples.

Jean: Our objective is to deal with three of the four temples. I trust everyone understands why we are only dealing with three.

Paimon: Paimon doesn't

Aether: It must be a local thing...We'll ask later... *confused as to why Y/n is walking to a table where there's a globe*

Jean: Knights of Favonius, time is against us. The storm is rampant. There is no point in maintaining a defensive position. Alright. We need to take initiative and act before the situation escalates.

Y/n: *throws the globe at Kaeya's head*

Kaeya: ack!!!

Jean: *angry* Y/N!!!!!!

What beef do you think Y/n has with Keaya?

Also, I hope you guys enjoyed and leave any feedback that you guys have and the story quests I will do but in each region I will put them under the title of "Story Quest" but I'll only do the important ones and for past/current events like lantern rite, "Roses and Muskets", etc. I will also do and I'll also place them in the region that they belong in under the title: "Events"

[astral-express-family]

Screw it, Amber birthday fic at like 11 (almost 12) at night on her birthday

1st person from my s/i's pov, entirely fluff, and not very long since I wrote it while getting ready for bed

Divider made by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more!

I smile when Amber opens the door to my house. I had seen her earlier in the day to wish her a happy birthday, but I had been excited to have her alone all day.

"Welcome home, Bunny!" I call, stopping my pacing. Here goes.

I wave my hands, as if that will dispel my nerves. Amber and I have only been dating for a few months, so everything still feels so new. And while I love giving my loved ones grand gestures, the giving is still awkward. I hope she likes it.

I'm jolted out of my thoughts, cheeks burning crimson, when she pecks me on the cheek.

"Did you have the day you were hoping for, Amber?" I ask. Amber's grinning, a gleeful smile on her face. She chirps, "Of course! Klee definitely had the right idea for how to celebrate a birthday!"

I take her hand, lacing my fingers with hers.

"I hope this is also a good idea for bow to celebrate a birthday," I hum, "Cover your eyes. I want to surprise you!"

She obliges, giggling. I lead her into the kitchen, where my surprise sits on a rough dining table. I let go over her hand, and creep over to the table.

"Open your eyes, Bunny!" I exclaim.

She does, breaking into a squeal as she takes in the room. Sitting on the table is a homemade Sticky Honey Roast and a chocolate cake with coffee frosting. Both homemade.

"Did you make this by yourself?" she questions. Her voice is filled with awe. I murmur, "Lumi helped me out, but I did most of it."

Amber squeals, flinging her arms around my shoulders. She plants her lips on mine, spinning me around.

"Let's dig in!" I exclaim, pulling apart.

So we do, and it's delicious.

#romantic f/o #girlfriend f/o #birthday fic #🐰🪽 outrider of mondstat | amber #💛❤️💜 brought together by fate 💜❤️💛

[wretched-descension-zine]

✧ Written by: @mamichigo ✧ Illustrated by: @arsanders & Sam M ✧ Organized by: @nootiest

He hears a piercing cry just as the sun is starting to set. Albedo looks up from his experiment; the flask in his hand cracks, the earth rumbles. It sounds like nothing he has heard before. After a moment of deliberation, Albedo decides his experiment has been sufficiently ruined to be left behind, and he emerges from his camp to check for the cause of all the ruckus.

Although the air is still, Albedo still hears the growl echoing in his skull. He follows that echo to the very edge of the path, overlooking Wyrmrest Valley. Smoke billows from below. He narrows his eyes, finding a figure huddled by the fire. To his surprise, the person is already looking back.

Kaeya waves languorously with one hand, the other busy with poking at whatever was toasting in the fire. It’s strange to see Kaeya up in these mountains, and Albedo tries to convey his question by staring at him, unblinking. Kaeya laughs, eyes slitted, and mouths something Albedo can’t understand, not from this distance.

He can imagine the sort of trouble Kaeya can–and does–bring wherever he passes, so Albedo decides this has nothing to do with him and retreats back into his camp. However, he has little time to restart his procedures. The light shifts as he's pouring a chemical; Albedo looks up to find Kaeya standing by the entrance to the cave, a smile on his face and a container in his hands. When he sees Albedo looking, Kaeya tilts his head, and his expression grows more cat-like.

“Kaeya,” Albedo greets, albeit confused. “What are you doing here?”

“Our ever-dedicated Acting Grandmaster was worried about you,” Kaeya replies. “Something about your supplies running low and ‘is he even eating up there.’ She was going to worry herself into an early grave, so I offered to look after you for a while.”

“I see.” Albedo’s gaze falls onto Kaeya’s hands. He raises his eyebrows. “And that?”

Instantly perking up, Kaeya approaches and shoves the container at Albedo. “I did promise I’d make sure you’re eating, but I can’t exactly make a sticky honey roast then carry it all the way in Dragonspine’s weather.” He leans further into Albedo’s space, hair falling slightly over his one visible eye. “So, I made do. There’s surprisingly lots to eat in Dragonspine.”

Albedo checks the contents inside, and finds a simple dish of meat and vegetables. The smell of it, however, is strong enough to permeate the air; did anything up here really smell like that?

“I didn’t know you were good at hunting,” Albedo muses as he takes a bite. Food is food, and Kaeya went out of his way to find this for him.

“Luckily, my target stayed very still for me,” Kaeya praises, eyes sparkling mischievously.

“It didn’t put up a fight?”

“Oh, it did.” He chuckles without a sound. Kaeya cups a hand around his mouth to whisper, “It screamed like the world was ending.”

Albedo startles as something buzzes in his ears. He looks to the piling snow outside; although there’s nothing there but the cold landscape, he can’t brush off the feeling that something is wrong. He glances back at Kaeya, and they share a look for a moment too long. He can’t tell what’s causing the uncertainty bubbling in his veins.

He files the thought away to be analyzed when he has a moment for himself, then finds himself a seat to continue his meal. Kaeya, on the other hand, doesn't sit—but he stands across from Albedo, where his eyes can follow his every move without much effort. Albedo bites into the meat, and swears he hears a distant hiss.

As he chews, pain needles at the roof of his mouth. Albedo pauses and feels along the ridges with his tongue; something small and sharp prickles the muscle.

“Is something wrong?” Kaeya asks.

Albedo shakes his head slightly and sticks out his tongue.

“Just a bone,” he explains.

"Ah, I'm sorry, I think it must've chipped off when I snapped—" Kaeya shrugs one shoulder. "Well, you get the picture. This is not something I'd normally eat, so a blunder was to be expected."

Albedo blinks at him, then nods. He pokes at the small perforation in his mouth and continues to eat, the coppery taste of blood mixed with the saltiness of the meat. Kaeya breathes a sigh of relief.

"If you want more, I'll be glad to provide," he offers, with a glee that Albedo doesn't understand.

It's easy to fall into a routine with Kaeya after that. Despite his boisterous personality, Kaeya makes a point not to badger Albedo while he's working. Besides his insistence to feed Albedo, he keeps mostly to himself. Most of the time, Albedo will look up from his notes and find out Kaeya has been gone for hours—the little corner of Albedo's camp he has claimed for himself is orderly, but cold.

One evening, curiosity gets the best of him and Albedo trudges along the path up the mountain to find signs of Kaeya. There's little to do up here if not for research or training; Albedo can hardly imagine what Kaeya could be distracting himself with late into the night.

The cold isn't a determent, but the snow, now reaching his calves, makes it hard to walk. As he squints, careful not to trip on anything in the dark, Albedo begins to wonder if Kaeya is in Dragonspine at all. He doubts someone inexperienced can find their way around the mountain paths after dusk.

The lake outside Starglow Cavern is deathly quiet as ever as he reaches it. Albedo looks around once, and finds himself alone. If anyone was here recently, the snow has long covered their tracks. Just as Albedo is about to give up on this endeavor, his eyes catch on something half-buried in the snow. He crouches by it and hooks a finger around one edge. The piece of fabric, although simple, seems to be made of expensive lace. Albedo strokes the fabric and wonders where he has seen it before.

His thoughts are interrupted by a shuffling sound. Albedo frowns and looks up; the noise is far, but he can tell it's coming from the other side of the lake, further along the path. He squints and stares into the dark, only hearing the shhhh of something being dragged in the snow.

He sees a figure, too tall and slim to be a hichurl. It takes a moment for him to recognize it, but Albedo sees blue fur and glittering jewelry.

"Kae—" He starts to say, but something stills his tongue. Albedo waits, on alert. Kaeya's chest heaves as he keeps walking, slowly, weighed down by the lump he's carrying. He can't identify the object, but it's as big as Kaeya himself, and heavy enough to have him struggling to carry it.

Albedo stills his breathing and takes a step back. At the same time, Kaeya freezes in place. He turns slightly, enough so Albedo can his profile—he wonders if it's a trick of the light that makes Kaeya's eyes appear as if they're glowing. Albedo ducks out of sight just as Kaeya twirls in his direction.

He crouches, cold and confused, close to the ground. The dragging sound continues, slowly, hauntingly. Albedo stays there for hours—long after the echoes of Kaeya's footsteps have disappeared.

Later, as they both settle into their sleeping bags, Albedo asks, "Have you seen anyone around Dragonspine lately?"

Kaeya makes a noncommittal sound in the back of his throat. "Looking for anyone in particular?"

"No, not really. Some people are known to visit, like the Adventurer's Guild, amongst others. I was wondering, since they haven't been to my camp in awhile."

The glow of the campfire flickers as it crackles. "As far as I know, we're the only ones on this mountain," he replies, amused.

Albedo can't seem to decipher his expression, half hidden by shadows. But then again, it appears he understands very little, lately.

"I see," Albedo mumbles. He holds the black headband he found in the snow, now hidden in his pocket.

He doesn't sleep at all.

#fandom zine #genshin impact zine #genshin zine #zine #fanzine #zine interactive #genshin impact

[xiaotopia]

Longing For You

Pairing: Fem reader x Aether

Words: 10k+ I lost count

Genre: one-shot, platonic relationship, fuff, angst, slight crack if you squint

Cw // mentions of character death, blood

Hi! It's my first time writing on here and I just write what's on my mind I'm sorry if this is bad since english is not my first language ㅠㅠ I promise I will get better with my writing! Enjoy ^^

Lonely.

That's what you are feeling. It's been 3 days you got stuck in this unknown land. You thought it was beautiful, it really was. But will you be ready to face what's in front of you?

You manage to survive with fruits like apples and cashews, at least that's what you thought the name was, because in your world they called it cashews. Even though it doesn't really give you enough nutritions, as long as you get to live you're okay with it. Heck there were almost nothing here. You wanted to explore the place more but there are monsters everywhere, and you- with no weapon, could only run and hide in hopes of not getting spotted by them. Will you ever survive?

Sighing, "just another day like this I guess"

you said before drifting to dreamland under a tree in a secluded area of the unknown land.

----

"She's still breathing"

"Paimon! What are you doing?!"

You could hear someone whispering- half screaming to be exact, at someone but you are more bothered at someone poking your arm with a stick. Groaning, you woke up and realized someone invaded your place. Ready to fight whoever that was, your actions suddenly come to a halt when you meet a pair of golden eyes and his tiny little companion. They were as shocked as you, well... I guess you are more shocked to see a floating kid beside the blonde boy.

Quickly, you hide behind a tree. Since you don't have any weapon to defend yourself what else can defend you other than a tree?

"w-who are you?! And why you can float?!"

you shrieked, the little floating kid crossed her arms and scoffed at your question. Why would she scoffed at you?

"excuse me young lady but we're the one who should ask you that!".

You just meet her now but god knows how much her high-pitched voice started to annoy you. The blonde boy beside her started to speak up before his companion could even say a word,

"I'm sorry she bothered you. I'm Aether, and this is my travel companion, Paimon. We found a group of hilichurls around here and we already fight them off before it could reach your campsite. May we know what is your name?" he asks as his pair golden orbs stares straight into you.

"Uh.. My name is y/n..."

He smiles, assuring you that they're safe and can be trusted, you slowly got out behind the tree when he stretches out his hand for a handshake. You grab his hand, reciprocating his action. "it's nice to meet you y/n".

----

"No"

"Aether c'mon please?"

"ugh fine"

It's been a month you had stayed in Monstadt, The Land of Freedom, and a month since your encounter with Aether and Paimon. She still annoys you though, but you're really grateful that she can keep the conversation going because it always turns awkward whenever you tried to initiate a conversation with people. You learned that Aether didn't come from this world too, separated from his sister by the unknown god and now is looking for her in Teyvat. Hopefully, you can go back home too.

You missed your family of course but you're also happy that there are people who willing to take care of you, especially Barbara. She treated you like her own sister, beside Jean. You learned everything here from Lisa and learned how to fight from the cavalry captain Knights of the Favonious, Kaeya. And Diluc? He's hot, but cold as ice at the same time and you went to the Tavern once, only to see him talking to a bard named Venti, about how the bard needs to stop drinking all of his dandelion wine before he runs out of it because of him.

Now, Aether is in front of you as you manage to persuade him to bring you to one of his adventures. He never let you tag along because he told you it's dangerous outside. Both of you are no vision holders, but he has the power of Anemo. It's still a mystery to you but he's an outlander so it would probably make sense why he can have such powers even without a vision blessed by the Archons.

"But! You only have to fight the hilichurls only while I take down those mitachurls, got it?" he says. Nodding your head aggressively, you started your journey with him as an adventurer.

"Let's go to Liyue!" Paimon says excitedly.

---

"That was close, thank you y/n"

Aether pants heavily, letting out a sigh of relief as you kick off the last hilichurl with your sword. Turning around to face him, you tell him it's nothing.

You three bumped into a hilichurl camp in the middle of the road of Bishui Plans. Unfortunately, those group of monsters noticed you before you three could even hide.

You were about to follow Paimon but Aether called you, you look at him as his face expressed shocked. You asked him what's wrong only him to point at your hips. You were confused so you look down where he's pointing at. Well now you're equally as shocked as him, if not because of the shining crystal blue orb hanging on your belt.

"What... I-I swear it wasn't there before?"

You whispered, questioning yourself because how did it get there? How did you even got a vision? What did you do? You know it's a vision because Lisa has taught you at the library back in Mondstadt. How? That was all in your mind.

You hear Paimon gasped, putting her hands on her mouth, "you got a vision! Let me see!". She flew to look at your vision before touching it to get a better look. "You got a cryo vision!" she exclaimed.

"Cryo? You mean I get the power of ice?" You question her. She nodded her, "Yes! Now you can help Aether to fight enemies!". Looking down at your feet, sighing. Aether asked you what's wrong and you simply said you don't know how to fight. Like actually fighting enemies with your own power, how to use it and how to handle it. What if you unintentionally hurt people around you? Aether chuckled at your response. You look up at him, tilting your head in confusion.

"Don't worry, I'll teach you"

----

"I wish kaeya was here"

"You don't like it when I teach you?!"

Chuckling at your friend, you said it's not that you don't like it when he teaches you. It's because "it would be easier if a cryo vision holder teaches me how to control the element", you says.

He let out a puff, while you were stroking Paimon's hair on your lap. She snores softly and you swear you could hear her mumbling sticky honey roast in her sleep. Giggling at her, you wonder how can she be cute and annoying at the same time. It's unfair you think. You turned your head to look at Aether and he was zoned out, as always.

"Mind telling me what's in your mind?"

You picked up his habits quite quickly, since you both attached to the hips all the time. You would notice he always does this when he's deep in thought. The same goes for him. You both can read each other like an open book.

He looks at you, smiling. Shaking his head and tells you he always thinks the same, about his sister. You smiled back at him, you assured him that you will meet her soon. And now, you both enjoy the calm breeze as you both watched the sun set over the blue horizon at the nearby cliff in Liyue.

"S-sticky honey roast... "

----

Annoyed.

That's how you feel right now.

This guy just keeps pestering you for 20 minutes now. You got separated with Aether as he got something to do with Zhongli, the Wangsheng Parlor Funeral Consultant. Aether wanted to let Paimon stay with you but you said you're fine on your own and you would enjoy alone time in the time being while waiting for them.

But you didn't expect this.

"Can you stop following me now?"

"Why would I?"

Rolling your eyes, you bump into his shoulder, or Childe as he call himself.

"Oh don't be like that girlie-" " I have a name shut up" you sigh for the nth time. You need to avoid this man, because he's one of the Fatui, you don't want to involve yourself and Aether with them. That's why you've been running and avoiding him at all cost.

"Well you never tell me your name girlie-"

"It's y/n okay? Now go you're getting on my nerve..."

you mumbled the last sentence. He only chuckles at your reaction as he enjoys it. You were buying some street food from the food stall and before you could give your mora to the seller, someone beats you to pay for the food. You were not complaining though, you didn't thank him either.

"Okay then but can I ask you one last question, y/n?" he smiles widely while you only look at him, chewing your spicy fish cake, unamused. His question however, almost send you to you death as you were choking on your food.

"W-what did you say?!" "I want to get to know about you"

Aether is not going to like this...

----

As expected, he was mad. No, he was furious.

"Why did you talk to him?!"

"I tried not to talk to him Aether, he kept following me when I tried to avoid him! To the point he creeps me out..."

Aether sighs, rubbing his forehead as Paimon watched you two arguing. Was this the only time Paimon shuts her mouth? Excluding the time she's asleep. She knows when to silent herself because this time, Aether is different in Paimon's eyes.

"So.. Did you agree?" he questioned, not giving you a glance. You shake your head, "No, of course I didn't. He's dangerous and he could hurt us if he has the opportunity..." Which is true. Childe is a harbinger, and you, just a mortal from another world who just got dumped to Teyvat out of nowhere.

Aether engulfs you in a hug, which surprised you. You could feel your cheeks burning from the physical contact. His arm wraps around your shoulder while the other strokes your hair, calming you.

"I won't let that happen to you, Paimon and me. I won't let him hurt us, I will promise you that I will protect you both from any danger. I don't want to lose another friend..." he says and the last sentence sounds more like a whisper to you but you understand him.

You also promised to yourself that you will protect paimon and him. Because you love them.

----

"Well traveller, you're quite stronger than I thought"

"Stay away from him!"

You yelled at the harbinger, keeping yourself from falling as you struggled to stand up. Paimon tried her best to keep Aether awake while you were guarding them, ready to attack him anytime.

Childe let out a loud laugh, as if he was mocking you and your companion. Shaking his head, he came closer to you.

"You know what, you're lucky that you didn't fall for my tricks" he chuckles. You were getting antsy everytime he take a step closer to you, "no one is fool enough to fall for a harbinger, Tartaglia" you sneered.

He was about to attack you with his hydro sword but you managed to dodged it with your power and turning it into an ice. You both fight for a while and fortunately, Aether came to help you.

After hours of fighting, that's what you think, you feel drained out. Slumping on the floor, you take a glance at Aether he was panting hard, Paimon at his side to support him. And Childe, he looks better than both you and Aether combined but he's still in a good shape.

As you were trying to stand up, you saw a glimpse of a woman at the corner of your eye. You widen your eyes and tried to push Aether away as you saw the woman was about to attack him with her sharp ice.

Signora.

You made a wall of ice to protect Aether and Paimon from her attacks. However, you didn't do it for you. You didn't protect yourself and got hit by the ice. The ice wall from you melts, so does Aether's world when he saw you, bleeding from your own element.

Childe was as shocked too, he thought you were a genuine person, he really do. Is this what it feels when you know someone personally got hurt? He can't imagine what Aether feels now.

You fell, you felt dizzy as you hit your head on the solid ground.

"Y/n!" Aether and Paimon yelled your name, but why do they sound like they're miles away?

"Y/n! Keep your eyes open! Don't you very dare to close your eyes!" Your friend screamed. Paimon is holding your hand while sobbing on you. "Y/n you can't leave us! Paimon still want to have fun with you!"

All you can do is cry. You don't want to leave them. You still haven't find your way back home, you can't. But you were losing so much blood and all you could do is remembering your moments with your friends.

Aether and Paimon.

Aether holds you on his lap, you could feel his tears falling on your cheek. He cups your cheek as he stares into your (e/c) orbs. To him, it resembles the stars on the night sky. He wish he could look at them like this before.

Not when you're dying.

He put his forehead on yours as he keeps repeating "please don't leave" to you. You promised him that you will protect him, but not stay with him. Did you regret it? Yes. You wish you could stay but you knew at the end, both of you will leave eventually.

But you didn't expect that you would leave them like this.

With all your might, you hover your hand over his that was on your cheek, rubbing it softly. "Promise me, we will meet someday, wether it be in our next life or in different universe, promise me we will meet again" you said, voice getting hoarse and staring to his golden eyes. You want to remember his eyes, his nose, his lips, his everything.

"Paimon doesn't want you to leave!" your little friend cried, you let out a loud sob as you pull her to your chest, soaking your bloody shirt with her tears. You three tried to cherish your last moment together, even though it was a tragic one, like now.

Aether tighten his hold on you, Paimon cries harder when she saw the colour of your vision starting to fade, knowing you couldn't make it.

"Paimon loves you, y/n", all you can do is cry, before your last breathe you hear Aether says "I promise you, we will meet again.. I love you"

Your vision faded, you fall into a deep sleep and everything turns dark.

----

"She's awake!"

"Call the doctor!"

You slowly opened your eyes, the bright light hurting your eyes, still adjusting to the surrounding. You could feel your tears were falling. Why did you cry? Then it hit you.

You were in the hospital.

You remember what happened, was that all just a dream? It feels real, way too real for your liking.

"Thank god, you're finally awake!" your mom sobs. Wait, your mom is here? You're finally back? You were supposed to be happy but why did you feel sad?

"H-how long did I... Sleep?" you asked, voice raspy as your throat lacks of hydration. Your mom gave you a glass of water and you gladly drink it, your throat still hurt.

"2 months now, you got hit by a car and the guy felt bad. He even insisted to pay for your bills", your mom says as she hold your hand. It's been a few minutes but you missed them. Aether and your little friend Paimon.

"Oh.." that's all you can say. You really don't know what to respond. You were happy that you're finally awake but you also missed people you met in Teyvat. Are they real or just your imagination?

"I forgot to tell you, the person who pays for your hospital bill will visit you. He always visits you when me and your dad is busy with work", you nodded your head, didn't have the energy to reply your mom back.

Suddenly, the door opens, revealing a tall man. You face him, only to widen your eyes as you were shocked to see the person in your dream.

"Childe?"

----

It's been a month since you got discharged from the hospital and been recovering well. You still struggle to walk on your own though, but nothing serious. Ever since you met childe, you both got along very well, not like the one in your dream.

"So... What I dreamed of during my coma was real?" You asked him, walking through the flowery path as the cherry blossom falls on the ground beside him arms clinging to his.

"Yeah. In fact, I'm still the same Childe in your dream!"

"Yeah as you wish. The only same thing is you keep paying things for me.. And being annoying"

You remarked. He only laughs and told you the reason why he keeps doing that is that it's the only kind action he could do, even now. But in reality, he felt guilty. He

"By the way, I want you to meet an old friend of mine. You won't mind right?"

"What's the point of asking me if you're going to introduce your friend to me now?"

"Geez woman, you're still the same"

you could only laugh at him. To you, he's a good friend but no one could replace Aether. If you met Childe, there's a possibility of you to meet Aether and Paimon right?

"Oi blondie! We're here!" Childe yelled, getting you out from your deep thoughts. You look up only to meet a pair of golden eyes that you've missed so much.

It feels like the time has stopped. He walked towards you and slowly, engulfed you in a hug. You were stunned, you meet him. You both found each other. You hugged him back, tightly. You let out tears of joy, he was relieved he found you that he also cried.

"You didn't forget me don't you?" You hear a feminine voice behind Aether, only to find Paimon crossing her arms, just like when you meet her for the first time. But what amazes you that she's in a different form. She looks... Like you. A woman.

Your eyes got teary again and went straight to her, giving her a big hug which she reciprocated. "I miss you so much Paimon" you burried your head into her neck. Paimon was happy she could meet her.

Childe and Aether could only look both of you with adoration. Aether cleared his throat, without looking at the man beside him, eyes still on you. "Thank you, if it wasn't for you, we wouldn't find her"

The red haired man could only smile, "it's no problem. I couldn't face anyone after what happened in Teyvat. Think of this as my way to apologize". Aether couldn't answer, he only nodded his head to let him know he's listening.

You went to him only get a hug from you. You missed him so much. And you noticed Aether doesn't have his long braided hair anymore, which saddens you because you always play and braid his hair.

"I noticed that you finally got rid of your annoyingly long hair", you teased him. You hear him chuckled as he tightened his grip around you. "Can't let the annoyingly long hair distract people sweetie. People found it weird here"

"But I like it though..." you blushed at the pet name he gave you. You both just couldn't let go of each other now. He strokes your hair, enjoying each others presence. "I'm so glad that I found you", "me too, I'm glad you're here".

The other two friend only watched you two reunited again, hugging each other and won't let each other go because you missed each other so much that you both are afraid one of you vanished anytime. But it's real.

"Childe can we get some sticky honey roast?"

"Good grief, paimon.."

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagine #genshin impact #aether x reader #genshin imagines #childe #emergency food #this is my first time writing please be nice constructive criticism is allowed 😔 #tw blood

[xo-cuteplosion-xo]

So I doubt, this how you intended to run your letters, but could I get a return letter from Kaeya? (Please prioritize your own needs, those are most important)

Anyways, it has "I went to private school, and am cursed to write only pretentious and flowery language" syndrome. That and I'm not proud of the syntax, but gosh darn it it's a love letter!

To my dearest Captain,

   Right now the stars are shining clear and bright, they remind me of your eyes. Under which, I wish I could share a dance with you. On the topic of dance, a new friend showed me a way to dance like a swan. It was magical. 

  One day I hope she can teach you. As of now the world seems peaceful, but I can't help but be apprehensive about tomorrow; hopefully your spirit and bravery that holds you and the knights will be with me.

   I guess I should explain why I'm writing you this letter. I know we could just meet in our teapot home, but as you've been busy with work I wanted to surprise you and make you smile! There's just something romantic about a lover sending words of poetry to her muse, wishing for their sweet embrace. I wish you could hold me under the fireworks, because I definitely think of you when seeing them.

  Due to the restrictions in Inazuma I'm using a pseudonym. But even so Inazuma has it's perks, I learned a new phrase for love and I depart with such;

I have taken a thousand steps, to other lands but in the heart of infinity, I am forever yours.

in caritate cupidum

-'Voidless'

(Postscript, Paimon says hello! Paimon's expecting sticky-honey roast, or Paimon will give you a worse name than Pasty-eye!)

~

Reply below the cut

For my dearest,

I enjoyed receiving your letter, it fared sweetly on a day like today. The air seems thicker than usual, a heavy feeling seems to cast itself upon Mond. I worry for you in Inazuma, though you’re strong, have proved many times over that this is the case. I still can not help but imagine the worst.

Mondstadt awaits your next visit, to see you. Arguably, I await your return the most. To hold you within my arms as you so wish for, and spoil you with whatever you see the need to be spoiled with. A small date if you may the next time we meet face to face outside the little teapot home.

Work has been quite taxing indeed. I fear I haven't been able to spend quite as much time with you as we desire, but even so far apart we find our ways to connect.

I am certainly interested in this new dance you have learned. Perhaps you shall show it to me come the next time we meet? As for the saying you’ve given me, it’s quite a poetic saying, darling. I quite like it, and I look forward to hearing of the new things you come to see along your adventure.

~Your Dearest Captain~

An after note for Paimon: I will be sure to include some Sticky honey roast the next time we meet.

#submission #kaeya x reader #lu.letter for reader #letter for reader #response to letter #kaeya #captian kaeya #kaeya x reader fluff #kaeya fluff #I feel I did dear captain justice in the wording :)

[brideofcthulhu10]

The Lost Boys Find Out Their Fem!S/O is Pregnant [4/4]

SUBJECT WARNING: PHYSICAL AGRESSION, SEXUAL THEMES AND A WHOLE LOT OF SWEARING. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED!

Alrighty then, my lovely fang babes! Here we are, we have the last of the first edition of the pregnancy saga! Worry not, dearest readers, for there is hope! I plan on doing a separate series about going through the pregnancy, and maybe even going through the childbirth with how the boys are as new dads. Let me know in the comments if you'd like to see more, and by tomorrow night we'll have a whole new set to love!

It was such a blast writing Paul's, I'm not gonna lie I got lost in the magic! We have a cute little character cameo for all you 80s movie nerds, lemme know if you can figure out what it is! So, without any more delays; here he is. The gorgeous, the goofy, the one, the only:

PAUL

Today had been an unexpected challenge. You barely got through your shift at the record store, every time you were in light it made you dizzy. Hangovers had nothing on this! Did you drink too much the night before? No, now that you thought about it any attempts to drink had you hugging a toilet. Not to mention your period was late as hell! Well, not the cramps, go figure. Just no blood. None at all. 

You never let on to your beau, Paul, though. The party boy vampire would become overly worried if you told him you were sick, and you weren't about to spoil a good time with a bit of nausea. So here you were, stumbling about the day into the late afternoon absolutely miserable. Your manager Iona offered you some crackers and ginger ale during your lunch break. No dice, within an hour you were running to the bathroom again. 

"Gosh hon, I dunno what ta tell ya. Maybe you ate something nasty, I told you that boardwalk food was fishy," Iona sighed, poking at her own lunch with a fork. Currently your coworker Andie was watching the front until you were feeling better.

"Kill me now, Iona," you groaned, chin resting on the table with your arms laid over your head. Then there was a smell. The greatest, most flavorful, mouthwatering scent you've ever experienced. Like a honey baked ham and a New York sirloin had a glorious new baby drizzled in ecstasy. Glancing over, your stomach growled at whatever it could be. If this were a cartoon you'd be flying to what it was.

Oddly enough, it was coming from Iona. Well, whatever black stuff was in her little plastic tupperware dish. Who cares what it was, it smelled incredible.

"Hey uh..," you asked, leaning over towards the sticky, mysterious delicacy calling your name. "You wouldn't mind if I had a bite, would ya?"

"You sure, hon? This isn't exactly your average dish, it's kinda weird," she tried to explain. God you couldn't take your eyes off it! Finally, your merciful manager pushed it your way, and you couldn't resist any longer. 

"I don't even care, this is the first thing in the past two days that hasn't made me nauseous," you muffled between cosmic bites.

Oh shit, this was heaven! It had to be some sort of meat, it reminded her of a nice spicy kielbasa, a slow roasted brisket, every second it changed to some new world of food you had never tried. What it was didn't matter by this point.

"Wooow. I've never met someone who liked black pudding that much."

Pudding? "I thought it was meat or something? It doesn't taste anything like pudding," you insisted, polishing off the very last specs of it. "Got any more?"

"No, no, not like chocolate pudding or stuff like that, kiddo. black pudding. It's this dish from the UK my new boyfriend made me. It's congealed pig's and cow blood mixed with spices."

You made a face. Blood? Like, blood blood? The cow equivalent of what Paul drank on a daily basis? Yet this was the first time you didn't puke, in fact, you kinda wanted more. Even knowing what is was made of.. for some reason you craved more. Meanwhile Iona continued to talk on and on, until one phrase caught your ears. "Yea, ya know my mom was so into for the longest time. Said she craved it her whole pregnancy, I never got a taste for it honestly."

A single thought popped into your head. A dangerous, foreboding thought that your intuition said was very much a possibility. In a flash you jumped up, nearly slamming your hands on the table. "I gotta go. Oh shit, I gotta go! I'll be right back, I swear, I'm so sorry, I swear to god I'll be right back," you shouted as you bolted out of the store.

"Wait what-?!"

You'd make it up to her once you got back. You had to know! You had to be sure..! Please just let it be paranoia! Please let it be anything, anything at all besides what you thought it was!

Once you reached the nearest CVS you made a B-line to the women's health section. Your hair clung to your face, your lungs stung like crazy but all you could think about was getting answers. And cue the disapproving glare of some old bat picking out a box of pads. Alright being 17 in front of the pregnancy tests looked bad. You weren't just a high schooler, you looked it too. "What're you looking at, " you snarl. Immediately she clutched her pearls, startled by this abrasive youngin' in no mood for dirty looks. God why'd there have to be so many options? Pink boxes, purple ones, bright yellow insisting it worked the fastest. The heavy fluorescent lights were no help at all, it made your head spin. You had no time for this crap. In a sweeping motion you grabbed three different brands and threw them into your basket, all you needed was….where was your wallet? Shit... Glancing around you checked for any nearby cameras or staff. Karma be damned, it was an emergency! Five finger discount it was. 

Once again you made a mad dash back to the record store as the sun finally set. All three boxes were crumpled in your hand, your boots running so fast it you hit a rock that'd be it.

But getting back to the record store was your best bet. You weren't about to pee in some dirty, old, nasty pharmacy bathroo- oh fuck. There was something that finally slowed your steps, nearly making you trip in the process. Four bikes parked right outside. Three of which were occupied by by Dwayne, David and Marko all talking amongst themselves.

Shiiiit, shit, shit! All you could do was swear repeatedly. Before they could spot you, you practically dove into the alleyway behind the store, rapidly disabling the alarm. If that went off it'd be a dead giveaway. Quickly you looked left and right before you slammed the door shut behind you still trying to catch air.

But there, right past the door to the employees lounge, over by the counter you could see a mass of blonde hair chatting away with Iona about Led Zeppelin's best album to date. Paul, gorgeous as every, laughing. It made your heart flutter, but then it sank. What if it was a-... He was never the type to run away from a challenge. But then again, a kid wasn't a challenge, it was a massive ordeal. It would take a huge chunk of his life- well, afterlife! Boozing and cruising would be switched out with drowsy days and busy nights. You weren't sure if you wanted him to know if you were, it would take all that from him. Unfortunately, he must've smelled you or sonething, because immediately he turned around like a puppy being called.

"Babe," he cheered with delight, rushing over to hug you. Rather squeeze you by your hips and lift you four feet off the ground. Quickly you stuffed the skinny boxes into your back pocket, now smushed up against his chest. "Where were you? Ion's said you just bolted mid-shift, we were worried sick! Well, I mean, I was more worried though, cuz I can't stand you bein' gone, kitten."

"Well, yeah uh, I forgot something I had to get at the store, and I forgot what time I got off," you hesitated, still antsy to escape to the bathroom. Truthfully you didn't actually want to, you had to! If you could, you'd just kiss him and ride off into the night to raise some hell like you always did. But this was too big to ignore.

Paul raised a brow. You weren't known for being this jumpy. You wouldn't look him in the eyes, they just kept darting towards the bathroom. Boy, you really did look sick, though. Pale, almost greenish with dark circles under your eyes. You even felt colder than usual. "Am I uh, interrupting something, babe?"

You managed to work out if his arms, giggling nervously. "Actually I-I had some of Iona's lunch earlier, and I just, gotta- be right back!"

With that, you bolted into the bathroom and slammed the door behind you. Again, weird. Paul just shrugged, maybe you had some bad Mexican.

 Iona wasn't convinced. Little miss jumpy-pants skipping out on her, you owed her an explanation. While Paul perused the albums she sunk over to the bathroom, rapidly tapping on the door. "Y/N! Psst! You good in there, hon?"

You were most certainly NOT good! Your hand shook, the third test finally finished. Not like it mattered! They all said the same thing. Every fucking one of them.

Positive. Positive. Positive.

No, no, no!

"Shit," you hissed. "Shit! Oh shit, oh fuck! Fuck-fuckity shit fuck fuck! Dammit." That's all you could do! You swore over, and over, and over, rapidly kicking the wall in front of you. Stupid pink plus! Why? Why did it have to be a plus?? Immediately you threw it in the trash and scooped up the other two. Maybe they were all flukes? Maybe only a doctor could tell you! You had to get home. Like now. Right now, you just had to rush home, make an appointment at the doctors, maybe hide in shame for a few days just until you could figure out what the hell to do with all this! Once again you wedged the tests in your back pocket and nearly tripped, cracking open the door to face your boss. "Iona, I gotta get home."

"Seriously, Y/N?? Why? What is with you?"

"Please, I swear I will make it up to you, I'll take a double shift, I'll wash your damn car-"

"Oh no, nuh-uh. Not until you tell me why you're being such a spaz," she practically shouted in a hissing whisper, absolutely exasperated. You teens and your drama, when she always said she wanted to fell young again this is NOT what she meant!  

"Listen i-... iyay amyay egnantpray," you whispered. Pig latin. It was a little code you two usually reserved for secrets. Well, that and talking smack about snotty customers. But wow was this a big ol' secret. 

Iona covered her mouth. Oh, you little idiot! You poor little idiot. Looking over at the unsuspecting boyfriend she sighed, looking you in the eyes. She wanted to just tell you to come clean to your man. The boy hung around you constantly, you two were the ultimate it-couple, there wasn't even sparks it was like watching supernovas. Something this big.. it shouldn't be left in the dark!

But that pitiful expression on your face just begged her to keep quiet, and frankly it wasn't her place to tell you what to do- well, at least in this regard. "Alright, alright. This saturday you're taking my night time shift, there's a big concert I wanna go to. And you gotta wax my car, it's gettin' nasty. And you better write the best damn apology note in the history of apology notes, sweetie. This is huge, you better come clean to him eventually, or I'll kick your little butt you hear me?"

"Yes. Absolutely, fine, deal. Just please, please keep him busy, I'm not ready to tell him," you whined, clutching the door. Frankly it sounded like a piss poor plan, but it couldn't be helped, not right now at least. You didn't have the strength to confront the situation head on, you were barely keeping it together. You wanted to cry all over, jump into his arms and come clean now, but this was neither the time or place.

As soon as Iona went to go over to Paul you stuffed the tests into your purse and bolted out the back door, only this time stealth was not on your side. Right at the mouth of the alleyway, just as you were about to be home free- you ran smack dab into a particularly lithe blonde that felt like a brick wall. You went flying onto the ground, your purse crashing onto concrete with a hundred pieces of your privacy going every direction. In a panic you began to rapidly stuff it all back, barely able to hide the first two tests as you threw some half baked apology Marko's way. Honestly he deserved a better one than that, but you were too frazzled to be fair at the moment.

"Oh shit, Y/N," Marko exclaimed, immediately kneeling down to help you gather the scattered remains of your purse. "Sorry, I didn't even see you, I was coming back for a smoke. Big Ed is such a douche, can you believe theres no smoking on the-..." His words trailed off, and you shortly saw why. Grasped between his pointer finger and thumb was the little pink strip, and a look of complete disbelief. All you could do was snatch it from him, a heavy moment of silence magically muffling the wild noise and shouts of the busy boardwalk. 

"Do...D-Don't worry about it. Look, I gotta get home, I'll see you arou-," you started, trying to jump up, maybe catch him off guard and make a run for it. Not this time. 

You hadn't even noticed he grabbed your wrist, it was such a blur. He stayed silent, standing up and looking right into your eyes with hidden malcontent. You swore if you answered wrong this mischievous cat would tear your throat out. After all, you were his best friend's girl. If you did anything, ANYTHING, to hurt him... Well, let's just say a pregnancy would be the least of your worries. "Why are you running, Y/N? What the hell is this thing," he asked quietly, eyes flickering between red and blue. "Did you…?"

"Oh don't fuckin' even," You snapped, smacking his arm, yanking your hand out of his grasp. "Of course not! You butt! God, are you serious? What do you take me for- No! I- fuck I just- no!" You kick the tin trash can beside you, watching a plethora of trash fly into the air. "I am freaking out! Of course it's Paul's. Oh fucking god, it's Paul's and I don't know what to do!"

Marko's expression softened, placing a hand on your shoulder. "Hey, I didn't mean to make it sound like that, Y/N. Paul's my friend, I just had to be sure you weren't sneaking around, you know?"

You sighed, pushing back your mess of a hair with misty eyes. This was perfect, a real big screw up from start to finish. All you could do was look over at Marko with pleading eyes. "You can't tell him yet. Please, just please please PLEASE, Marko, don't tell Paul yet!"

"Tell me what, babe?"

Shit. Shit on a stick. You looked behind to see Paul halfway out the back door with a look of concern, one that he rarely carried. You and your dumb mouth, go figure.

The blonde pushed through and let the door close behind him, looking over at his best bud standing alone with his girlfriend who was begging him to keep something secret, from him no less.

 "Marko?"

"Nah, nah, don't look at me man, this is all on you guys," he sighed, hands up in a shielding motion. "Good luck buddy. Gotta go, Y/N." with that the young vampire excused himself from this melting pot of drama, hands stuffed in his pockets. 

You just stood there, keeping the little strip tightly grasped behind your back. Paul was silent, but glancing at his hands you saw they were balled so tight his knuckles were white. "P-paul…," you hesitated, biting down on your bottom lip. "I should really… get home.."

Paul only raised a brow, glancing at your arms still tucked behind you. This wasn't like you to hide from him, and that alone frightened him. Nothing had ever frightened him before. And he didn't like the taste of it one bit. "What's behind your back, babe?"

"What?"

Again his spoke, this time his voice lowered into a low growl. "What... do you have... behind your back, babe?" The way he said it was so firm, it made you shake a little. You didn't like stern Paul. They way he hissed the word "babe", practically spoken through clenched teeth

Your throat ached, eyes darting across the ground struggling to think up a good excuse. Anything. A book, your purse, a surprise for him! Anything!

"N-nothing." Apparently, you failed to find any excuses. Great.

Paul's knuckles began to crack, jumping forward to try and snatch it from behind you. When you dodged him, he grew even more furious. You both began to struggle, pushing him away, insisting he just stop and let you leave. But every attempt to reject him only upset him further. Why were you hiding things from him?! How could you just ditch him at the record store when he was worried sick about you??

The struggle built up until finally he had enough. His eyes turned white with rings of fire, brow looming heavily over his eyes and fangs jutting out where his incisors once were. In a flash he grabbed you by you wrists, pinning you so hard to the wall it shook. You still tried to struggle. Thrash, kick, squirm! Steel wished it could be so strong, your muscles ached. This probably wasn't even his full strength, but it dwarfed you in comparison. This terrifying side of Paul you had certainly seen before, but never had you been on the receiving end. It was in all sense of the word, predatorial. He'd never try to kill you, but you still felt that horror build up inside. Rapid, sharp breaths made your chest heave, too afraid to look up at those red eyes still fixated on whatever you kept hidden from him. He continued to pry your stubborn fingers open, ignoring your shaking whimpers. He squoze your wrist, the tendons aching and contracting until your fingertips began to lift up. Any resistance was pretty much useless at this point, but dammit you still tried everything to worm out of his grip. But he had finally had it, you weren't gonna be keeping secrets from him. Now your last finger was pushed off, and he could see what was so damn important that you physically fought him to keep it secret. It was almost slow motion the way the strip spun to the ground, clattering down and landing beside his mud caked boots. He froze, slowly looking down at it. That's it? That's all you-...

You could barely read his face, so many different emotions flashing across it all at once. Occasionally he'd look back up at you, then back down at it. To the point you almost got annoyed that you were still being stuck to a wall while the reality set in. After all, it didn't take a rocket scientist to know what that was, just put you down already!

Paul looked at you still pinned beneath him, horrified at how he lost his temper and immediately released you. Still rubbing away the pain across your wrists, you watched him pick it up. A wave of guilt swarmed your body, you didn't know whether to hug him or punt him in the chest.

Hell, a massive tidal wave of guilt overflowed him too. It'd been such a long time since he got that angry.. but worst of all he'd never been like that with you. Never grabbed you so forcefully and ignored your pleas, it was a dark side of him he never wanted to display in front of you. Glancing at the little pink plus at the end of the stick, his mind swirled with a plethora of questions. But slowly he stood up, looking down at you still really trying to process everything that had happened in the past few minutes. "I don't… I don't understand.."

"You- You are such an ass," you shouted out of nowhere, enough that it made him jump. There you were. That's the fiery girl he knew, not the one he exactly wanted to be on the opposing side of at the moment, though.

Paul wasn't surprised you were pissed, but he definitely didn't expect you to start punching his arm. Again. Then again, and again you just kept hiting his arms, his chest, pushing and crying, you were so mad you wanted to chuck him in the ocean! It didn't really hurt that much, but he felt awful he drove you to that point.

Tears blurred your vision as you lashed out on him. All you could do was yell names between sobs, even whack him with your purse. "Paul, you absolute jerk! Butt! Jackass! You smarmy, half wit, blood-sucking tool! You said you were packing blanks, you absolute liar! I was gonna tell yo-! I mean, I know I shouldn't have run-! But you just couldn't wait- and then Marko- and you! You ! Jerk ! Butthead !"

"Hey, ow! Ow! Ow, dammit! I know, I know I went to far-ow not the hair dammit," he demanded, grabbing your arms before you could lay another mighty blow. "Babe! Babe, stop! I thought I was! I swear I didn't know- I-..I never thought that I could get you...." His hands slowly released your shoulders, moving to your hips. "I'm so sorry, baby. I swear, I didn't know.. I'm so sorry."

The way his voice softened only made you want to cry more. This whole day was a mess. You didn't mean to try and run.. You never should've tried to in the first place. God, you were so tired. All this running around, all this secrecy, the fighting, it was exhausting. Paul was the last person you wanted to fight. Sure you had spats and a few heated arguments. Every couple did, even vampires. But this, it was just so.m draining. With a firm thud you plopped your forehead on his sternum, your fingers tightly clinging to the upper sleeves of his jacket. "Wh-what am I supposed to do-… what are we supposed to do now..?"

Paul pondered his options with a solemn face, but there was only one that made him happy. Only one that sat right in his heart. What else could he possibly do, there was only ever going to be one answer even if you told him right away. Most of all, he couldn't stand the sorrow in your eyes. A frown never suited such a beautiful face. He never expected there to be anything to come from your heavy sexcapades, it never seemed like there was any risks in it. He'd never seen a vampire munchkin, least of all he'd never even heard of a vamp conceiving with a human. All he knew now is you, crying in his arms, terrified of what you were carrying. What it could mean. In that moment, he steeled his resolve and came to a final decision.

Silently he tilted your chin up, using his thumb to brush away all those tears staining your cheeks. Those blue eyes, you could get lost in them. Swallowed up by the sea. It wasn't hard to read his mind when he held onto your hip with one hand, while the other that pushed away salty droplets now cupped your cheek. Within moments you crashed your mouth into his, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck.

Warm. A surge of heat filled your body. It was the first time you felt truly alive all day. You could feel your chest heave against his, you didn't want any space between the two of you and only pressed tighter until there wasn't anything left. Each kiss gave momentary breath before you dove in for more. Neither of you could stop. You didn't want to pull away, not even for a split second. The way he smelled, the way he tasted, the way he touched you, the way he felt beneath your fingers; it made your head spin. His hands began to wander, you clutched at anything you could get a hold of. Your body burned, so sweet and long. In those moments the world stopped, it just melted away in streams of light. No one was there but you two. 

It was over too soon, both of you rapidly panting for breath still intertwined. Oh, how you could stare into his eyes forever.

That frown was long gone, replaced by a tender smile. The one he had come to cherish. Paul chuckled softly, breathlessly nuzzling against your collar bone. Slowly he leaned in close to your ear, his disheveled blonde hair brushing up against your cheeks. Lips trailed up flesh, reavhing just beneath your ear. And then you heard those three forbidden words. Such sweet, tender words, you hadn't expected him to say. Although he whispered them so softly they might have gotten lost in the wind, to you they were as clear as the moon on a cloudless night.

"Y/N.... I love you."

It made your heart throb, you thought you might even faint. A lifetime of struggles led up to this beautiful moment. You never expected it to be a half-undressed heavy make out session with your vampire lover, the father of your unborn spawn, in the back alley of a record store on the Santa Carla Boardwalk. But here you were, nestled between him and an old brick wall. Paul loved you, he had said it, he finally said those words that could destroy any doubt you had. And more than anything in the whole wide world, you knew once and for all, you loved Paul.

#lost boys imagine #lost boys paul #lost boys #lost boys 1987 #the lost boys #lost boys imagines #lost boys fanfiction #fanfiction writing #fanfiction #fanfic #80s movies #80s nostalgia #80s horror #brooke mccarter #paul #lost boys vampires #vampire pregnancy #pregnancy imagine #pregnant #pregnancy #drama #fluff imagine #fluff #a lot of swearing

[rocksandrobots]

Of Rocks and Robots Ch. 21 - Fishing Trip

"So what do you wanna do this weekend?" Hiro asked Varian.

The other boy only shrugged his shoulders as he had no idea.

It was Friday and they were both walking home from school while trying to make plans for the weekend. All of their other friends were either away or busy due to Father's Day coming up. Fred was going to accompany his dad on a mission. Gogo was driving down to her father's for a few days. Wasabi had bought plane tickets to fly back to his hometown of Seattle. Karmi went back upstate for the weekend with her parents, and Megan was still grounded, but had a full day planned to butter up her dad. Even Honey Lemon was going home to spend time with her abuelo.

This left Varian feeling a little awkward. In Corona they had a Guardians Day, which was meant for both parents or caretakers in general, but for Varian it was always a day for just him and his dad to spend time together. One of the few times in the year when his father wouldn't work in the field, or go to market, or have business at court.

Varian knew precisely what a day like Father's Day meant and how special time spent with the man who raised you could be. He envied his friends, but mostly, knowing this would be the second year without his dad pained him.

In a way, he was thankful that Hiro shared his delima. Though he certainly wouldn't have wished his predicament upon anyone, it was still somewhat comforting to know that he wasn't alone.

They were a less than a block away from the Lucky Cat, still discussing things to do, when a sleek car pulled to a stop beside them. The window rolled down to reveal a man with blonde hair, a large nose, and a wide smile. He was wearing a plaid shirt and a tan floppy hat.

"Hey Hiro! Go grab your overnight bag and some sunscreen!" He joyously ordered. "Your new brother, cousin, thingy too. We're going fishing!"

Varian could only look on confused, he didn't know this man nor why he wanted to him and Hiro to go on a fishing trip with him. However, Hiro apparently did know him and was also apparently not onboard with this idea at all. He stood with his mouth a gape with a look of horror in his eyes.

After processing this terrible news, Hiro could only sputter out, "But.. but why?"

The man in the vehicle began to offhandedly list his reasons. "Because fishing by oneself isn't any fun unless there's someone else around to show off to. Because I had an awful childhood, whose own father would never take fishing, and now I'm living vicariously through you. Also, you're still my intern and for the rest of the year, I still own you."

The man flashed another wide grin and Varian began to put the pieces together. This must be Krei. Owner of Krei Tech, the man in charge of the portals that brought him here, and also Hiro's boss. Though, this new revelation did nothing to stem the confusion in his mind. He couldn't for life of him see why he was being invited along on the trip nor did he understand Hiro's objections.

"But...but...b, but…" Hiro suttered desperately trying to think of way out of going.

"No buts! I've already talk with your aunt and got her permission, reserved the campsite, and I even bought you both fishing poles!" Still grinning, he reached down beside him and lifted the new poles up for Hiro and Varian to see.

Hiro let out a wordless half groan, half whine in defeat, before turning around and slumping towards the cafe. Varian blinked and looked back and forth between the two of them unsure what to do. Krei waved to him cheerfully, clearly excited for the upcoming trip, and Varian numbly waved back before deciding to follow Hiro and pack his own bag.

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

Varian found himself enjoying the fishing trip more than he had expected. The first day was spent mainly getting there and setting up the campsite. The second day was spent fishing, exploring, and just taking in the scenery.

Varian had been allowed to bring Ruddiger along, as Hiro had also brought Baymax. His pet was overjoyed to be back in his natural environment and Varian had to admit that he felt more at home here in the great outdoors than in the crowded streets of San Fansokyo. The big city was fascinating but he'd always be a simple farm boy at heart.

Krei felt much the same way. The businessman hadn't been raised in the countryside the way Varian had, but he had a great love of camping, fishing, and being out in nature. His passion stemmed from childhood summers spent on vacation at something called 'summer camp'.

Varian found he got along with older man well. They spent the ride up chatting about science and it's more practical applications, spent the trip sharing wilderness tips, and fishing out in Krei's boat. Fishing had never been Varian's favorite activity, but he now found a new sense of nostalgia for it and the praise Krei would send his way whenever he caught one helped to fuel his enjoyment of the sport even more. Plus he got a chance to show off his cooking skills after they had cleaned their catch. Not the most pleasant task ever, but Varian could stomach it much better than butchering other kinds of meat.

Hiro however did not enjoy fishing, or camping, or anything to do with the outdoors really. The other teen mostly sulked the whole trip. When he wasn't busy gagging at the worms used for bait or getting scared by the unfamiliar sounds of the local wildlife that is. Mainly he stuck close to Baymax and the tent, bored out his mind and annoyed he had been forced to come long. Varian's enthusiasm only aggravated him further and, if he was being honest with himself, he was a little jealous by how easy things came to the other boy. He'd spent half a year trying to get on Krei's good side and impress him, while Varian had managed it in mere minutes of meeting the CEO.

The only time Hiro came out of his grumpy shell was at night, when they built a campfire and roasted marshmallows. Varian had never had smores before, but they were tasty, if also sticky and a little too sweet. Ruddiger however went nuts over the fluffy sweets and had to be kept from stealing the whole bag of them. Hiro didn't really care one way or the other about the traditional treat, but was more than eager to share ghost stories with the rest of the group. Gleefully recalling with gory detail about the spirit of an ax murderer who apparently stalked the woods. Perhaps it was a little vindictive of him, to try his best and scare the other teen, but Hiro couldn't help filling a little thrill whenever Varian gave a little jump or clutched his pet raccoon even tighter in comfort.

Keri was only amused by the story. He'd heard similar ones growing up at camp. He laughed at the end of Hiro's tale.

"Ha! Kids are still telling that one? Let me tell you a real horror story."

It was about tax audits.

Both boys could only shrug at each other.

"I do not understand the purpose of a 'ghost story'." Baymax observed.

"It's suppose to be for fun." Hiro informed him.

"I see; an adrenaline rush within a safe and controlled environment can be considered a pleasant feeling for some people. However I do not understand how taxes figure into that."

"Uuuuh, neither do we." Hiro admitted, "but I guess fear is subjective. Do you have any stories to share, Varian?"

Varian had to rack his brain on that one. His own life was more of a horror story then most ghost tales he knew, but he didn't want to devel into that. Instead he told a folk legend that his dad had once told him. It had been an old story from his home country; a parable about a rich man who was so greedy that he hoarded a well from the poor townspeople during a drought. Forcing them to pay him tribute lest they die of thirst, but he made the mistake of refusing water to a witch and so was cursed to become a vampire. To spend an eternity in thirst himself and to be forever alone, because he could no longer get close to other people without risking harm to them.

"And so a leader must care for his people, son," he remembered his father instructing him at the end of the tale, "He must share and give back to the community. He who sacrifices love for his fellow man in exchanged for selfish possessions, forfeits his right to live among mankind and to even be called a 'man' himself."

If only his father's words had been true. If real life had been as simple as stories, then Corona would have sided with him and not the evil king who kept the wondrous healing flower hidden away and who turned his back upon people need. But Varian conveniently left out this more personal anecdote.

"Wow." Hiro said flatly. "That's deep."

He wasn't used to horror stories having explicit morals attached to them and didn't know how else to respond. The tale hadn't been scary so much as eerie with an unnerving ending. Unlike his serial killer story, it wasn't anything you could be afraid of happening to you, yet questioning your place in the world was somehow more off putting than simple dismemberment.

The mood was broken however, by Ruddiger stealing Hiro's marshmallow off his roasting stick. It turned out to be last one as Krei had spent the majority of Varian's story battling the gluttonous raccoon over their food stores.

"I know racoons aren't 'mankind', but does this mean he's doomed to be a marshmallow vampire now?" Hiro joked as Varian got onto his pet.

"I don't know. Your robot looks like a walking marshmallow though." Varian shot back good naturedly.

Now out of food, save for leftover fish, they all decided to tuck in for the night.

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

Hiro hated the woods. He hated how unfamiliar everything was, how inconvenient it was, and most of all he hated how gross it was. He woke up irritated and sore from sleeping on the thin sleeping bag inside the tent. He couldn't find anything decent to eat for breakfast. He never stopped grumbling while he was forced to use the bathroom outside. To make an awful morning even worst, he couldn't shake the feeling of being stalked as strange animals hooted and howled. One bush in particular shook right when he pasted it. He nearly jumped out of skin when Ruddiger pop out of it holding the last of the fish in its mouth.

He groaned as he watched the raccoon scurry away and climb up a tree a little ways off from the campsite. He didn't much care for the creature, or for wild animals in general, but he knew how important the pet was to Varian and so had tried to be polite about having it around. Still Hiro's patience was wearing thin. The walking bottomless pit had eaten practically everything in the camp.

Hiro reluctantly followed after, debating if it was worth trying to get the fish back. Probably not, he didn't even like the taste of fish all that much to begin with. He stopped in surprise when an apple core fell from tree and nearly hit him. He looked up and found Varian sitting in one of the top branches, raccoon by his side, and reaching up to pick another apple off the tree.

The other teen paused when he saw Hiro. "Hey! Morning! You wanna an apple for breakfast?"

Hiro's stomach growled in response but all he actually said was, "How did you get up there?"

Varian laughed, "Climbed up here. How else you do think? Fly?"

Hiro looked up at him blankly. It was an obvious answer, of course, and he felt silly for having asked it.  

"Come on up!" Varian encouraged. "There's plenty of apples to go around."

"I..I can't." Hiro admitted sheepishly.

"Why not?"

"I don't know how to climb a tree." He mumbled.

Varian looked surprised by this revelation and before Hiro could do anything else, the other boy quickly climbed back down to join him.

“You never climb a tree before?”

‘Well, I did once, with Baymax’s help.” He rubbed the back of his neck self consciously.  

“It’s not like there’s a whole lot of trees in San Fransokyo to climb.”

“Oh, well, it’s easy. Here, I’ll show you. Just put your foot there, in that knot, and place your hand here on this bump in the bark.” Varian instructed, helping Hiro find the footholds. “Now you see that groove up here, place your other foot there, and as you hoist yourself up grab that lowest branch with your other hand, like climbing a really uneven ladder.”

Hiro did so, though not without some struggling, but eventually he pulled himself up onto the lowest branch.      

“Great!” Varian cheered and followed after with practiced ease. “The hardest parts done. Now all you gotta do is swing up the rest of the branches, like so.”

Varian took off, showing Hiro the best way to navigate the tree top. Hiro followed him, mimicking the other boys actions. With great effort he hauled himself up onto the final branch and heaved a ‘wooooph’ in relief of having made it up.

His sigh quickly turned to awe though when he caught sight of the view. The early morning sun sparkled on the lake. Further out a misty fog was beginning to disperse and you could see the opposite shoreline reflected in the water like glass. Beyond that giant redwoods poked out of the canopy of trees and way, way off in the distance you just about make out the tips of blue mountains.

“Woah.” He breathed. Hiro had to admit, you didn’t get scenery like this in the city.

‘Here.” Varian handed him an apple. It was smaller than the ones you’d buy in the store, with pink and yellow skin. Hiro tentatively took a bite. It was crunchy and very tart, but edible. Not to mention it was practically the only food they had left in the camp, so Hiro wound up eating it all and started in on a second one.

“So, where did you learn to climb?” Hiro asked taking another large bite of the wild fruit.

“Oh, I’ve been climbing trees since I could walk.” Varian laughed. “We owned an apple orchard along with the farm. Also the forest is right next to my village.”

Ruddiger joined them, procuring his own apple and sitting right on Varian’s lap to enjoy his meal. Varian scratched his pet’s ear.

“Does he ever get full?” Hiro asked.

“Nope.” Varian replied, and then they both broke into giggles.

Once the laughter had subsided Hiro commented, “I guess that’s why you’re so good at this outdoors stuff. This is the first time I ever been fishing, and with any luck, it’ll be my last.”

“My dad taught me.” Varian quitely confessed. “He’d take me on trips like this sometimes. Try to teach me how to hunt and fish. The fishing is a lot better than the hunting, let me tell you. I never could fire an arrow right and I can’t stand the sight of blood.” He cringed as if recalling a gruesome memory. “But, I guess he was just looking out for me. He taught me the skills he had to live on to survive. Apparently there were no farms where he grew up, the land was always baren. I guess that’s why he prefered gardening to being a knight.”

“Wait, your dad was an actual for real knight?”

Varian nodded, “Yeah, I found his armor after...after the accident. Along with a bunch of other important stuff he never told me about.” He added bitterly.

Hiro didn’t know how to respond to that. So he stayed quiet and let Varian dictate the conversation.

“Anyways, it worked. The fishing did come in handy. I had to do a lot of that, when.. when I was on my own.” He worked his jaw as he mulled over that last confession, his eyes gazing out to into the distance, clearly not seeing the breathtaking view before them.

Hiro’s heart dropped. He had a vague idea of what happened to Varian, but this was the first time it really hit home just how messed up the other’s teen’s life had been before now. He could empathize with losing a loved one, but he had always had his aunt and his friends to depend upon. If nothing else to be there and take of him as he sank into depression. But Varian had to do everything for himself, even while battling that same depression. The idea of having to catch or scavenge for your own food on top caring for you ill father was a nightmare that Hiro could barely comprehend. A nightmare that only somehow got worse.

“Fortunately, there’s a river that runs through my village, and I could set up lines overnight and just go check them in the morning, and we had food stored up for winter. Like oats, bacon, dried peas, that sort of thing. That is, until spring rolled around and the king's guards run me out of my house.” He said irritably.”Then I just had to forage or steal to survive.”

“Be...because you stole medicine?” Hiro asked disquietly. He couldn’t imagine a world so cruel and yet to his surprise the story got even worse.

“Oh no, this was before I stole the flower.” Varian said matter of factly and Hiro just stared at him in horror. Varian heaved a heavy sigh and went on to explain. “My father was the only other person who knew about the sundrop. The king kept it hidden from everyone. I guess when he found out that my dad, was, was ‘gone’, he decided to try and remove me from the picture, so as to keep his secret safe. He made a bunch of false charges about me ‘attacking the princess’ so that no one would believe me when I asked for help or told them the truth about the flower. Then he sent his elite guard to arrest me and I had to run.”

Varian gave a little shrug and added, “I guess after that, ‘treason’ didn’t seem like that big of deal. I mean they were going to throw me in jail either way, and not many people leave those dungeons alive.”

Hiro could barely process what was being told to him. He didn’t know what to say. His stomach churned and his breath shallowed. Varian’s past was far scarier than any ghost story.

Then suddenly he felt guilty. He’d been so caught up in his own grief and his own struggles with readjusting, that he hadn’t actually stopped to think about things from Varian’s perspective. He had thus far grinned and bared the discomfort of having his life turned upside down, because, well because that's what he thought he needed to do in order to be a mature decent person. And while that was true in part, it never occurred to him that this move was yet another upset in Varian’s life, in a long, long string of seemingly never ending upsets.  

Hiro found himself so easily annoyed by the other teen, yet he really had no right to be. Varian was readjusting to whole new culture and way of life in addition to struggling with his grief and trauma. So what if he cooked weird food sometimes, didn’t always know the appropriate conduct to certain situations, or was so super confident in nearly everything he did that it made Hiro self conscious and a little jealous at times. Deep down, Varian was suffering through something that no one in Hiro’s little corner of the globe could fully understand, and the least that Hiro could do was try to be a little more patient and a little more open about letting Varian into his life.

“You know,” Hiro slowly said, trying to ease the conversation and offer a little understanding, “I never really knew my dad. I was just four when he and my mom died. It was always Tadashi who taught me things, like how to ride a bike or how to hotwire a robot. Though he never taught me to climb to tree, so I guess that’s one I owe you.”

He smiled encouragingly at Varian, who nervously returned it. Once again Varian wasn’t used to praise or acknowledgement that he anything ‘right’.

“Maybe, you could teach me more outdoorsy stuff.” Hiro offered. “And I can teach you more about more modern stuff, like how to play Mind Smith II Turbo .”

“That..that’s that video game you like, isn’t it?” Varian asked as he tried to remember what Hiro even talking about.

“Yeah!” and with that Hiro eagerly launched into a detailed description of the game.

Soon the boys were interrupted by Krei emerging from the tent. He stretched sore back and tried to reheat the leftover instant coffee he’d brought. He then promptly spit it back out in disgust. The boys tried their best to suppress their snickers. Keri spotted them anyways.

“How ‘bout we pack it up and go get tacos instead?” He asked them.

“Yeeesss!” Yelled Hiro, who was more than ready to go.

“Sounds great!” Agreed Varian. “We’ll be right down!”

Keri went back in the tent to start packing and Ruddigger scurried down after him, hoping to maybe steal another treat from the camp.

Varian stood up and started to also make his way down when Hiro’s voice stopped him.

“Ummm...Sooo how do you get down exactly?”

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

The day ended with a trip to Yaki Taco and a huge feast of fast food nachos and deep fried burritos. Rudiger was once again confined to his carrying cage, but was allowed a cup of some cheese sauce to snack on. Baymax was let out of his charger case to kept an eye on the mischievous raccoon. All agreed it was actually the best part of the camping trip.

“Say, ‘cheese’.” The robot said, as he took a photograph with his internal camera.  

The three guys sing songed the the word even as actual cheese dripped off the burritos they held in their hands, plastering on dopey grins for the camera. Then a few more pictures with silly faces to complete the set.

“Fantastic!” Krei said. “I want copies for the office.”

“Why?” Hiro asked.

“So if any clients come in I show off ‘my family’ to them instead just the photo of my mother. I love the woman but she doesn’t necessarily impress the image of ‘family friendly company’.”

“I knew there was a catch.” Hiro scoffed.

Keri looked wounded. “Hey, I told you, my employees are my family.”

Hiro rolled his eyes but he couldn’t help giving a little smile at that. He knew Krei well enough by now to know that, underneath his seemingly conviving self-serving self, he had a heart, and he wouldn’t have invited Hiro and Varian along if he didn’t care.

“Aunt Cass put you up to this, didn’t she?” He prodded.

“I’m sworn to secrecy.” Krei insisted and they gave Hiro a knowing wink. Then more seriously he said, “I know what it’s like not having your dad around on Father’s Day. So, I figured, why not a fishing trip? It’s better than being stuck at home while your father’s away on a business trip to Tahiti that weekend.”

Hiro raised in eyebrow. Keri had a tendency of oversharing at times.  

“Buuut, enough about me. Who wants dessert!?”

#big hero 6 #varian #Hiro Hamada #tangled #ruddiger #krei #BH6 the series #tts #rta #tangled the series

[sunnytumbies]

I'm somewhat confident that Amy's stress baking enables one or more of the other characters to then Stress Eat the baking, which could lead to Tummy Fic (tell me if I'm right and also you don't have anon asks turned on. c; might get more asks if you hit that switch!)

Whoops! Anons, you are now free to enter–sorry bout that! 

So, funny story: Tiny, you are right–you are so right, in fact, that I decided to write a lil fill for this! I had like 500 words written and then accidentally closed the tab :’), and for whatever reason my response was even more determined writing to finish it. Long story short, it’s now a /4391 word monster/ that I’m not even all that proud of, but I’m posting it anyway! It’s gonna be confusing & maybe a headache for me later because this is happening later in the story than the first “major story event” fic I’ll be posting but...here we are.

Content warning: this fic involves dysphoria, mentions of menstruation, self-loathing, and binge eating as a response to stress. Please be mindful should you choose to read!

___________________________________________________________

Amy hums lightly to herself, dusting the last of the madeleines with powdered sugar, breathing in the comforting aromas, honey and lemon mingling with cinnamon and apple, almond and vanilla, chocolate and bread. She can’t pretend that this was a good decision, can’t act like she would not have possibly benefit more from a day of studying than a day of baking, but the knots in her chest have finally started to loosen, and it’s hard to take that as anything but a win. She plates the madeleines and slides them into the last remaining patch of free space on the L-shaped countertop, clutching the notebook that belonged to her mother close to her chest. 

It’s not that Amy only ever bakes French desserts. She adores the challenge of baklava with its stubborn phyllo dough, loves the thrill and the spectacle of a good Baked Alaska; it’s just that sometimes, she needs to hear her mother’s voice in the only way she knows how–baking the way Maman taught her, dutifully reading the advice scrawled in the margins of her recipe notebook in eccentric cursive, cleaning as she cooks (”Mieux vaut prévenir que guérir, Amelie,” she’ll find herself muttering at times in a poor imitation of her mother. It translates to “It is better to prevent than to heal,” which she thinks is sort of intense as far as wisdom about cleanliness goes, but then, she’s never forgotten it). Professors will likely always butcher her last name, flattening the syllables into something harsh and ugly; classmates will continue to express their envy at the ease with which they assume she sails through her foreign language requirement, oblivious to the unique heartache of struggling to write in a language that flows from her lips with more ease than English sometimes; but no one can take this from her, her mother’s recipes in her mother’s own words, the familiar tastes and smells of home. 

It started with the croissants, shaping the dough she’d prepped earlier this week in preparation to make pains au chocolat--she can’t stop her lips from quirking up in a small, proud smile, now, looking at how perfectly they rose, how flaky the croissants are, how tantalizingly the smell of chocolate and freshly-baked bread is wafting off of them, how they glisten with brushed-on butter. But when her eyes glanced over the mostly-full bottle of fruity olive oil in the pantry, how could she resist whipping up a lemon curd tart, with its buttery almond crust and rich lemon custard filling? And it would have simply been silly to waste the lemon zest she had leftover from the tart--not when she could make the madeleines, tiny delicious cakes sweetened with honey and brown sugar, the tang of the lemon zest cutting through the sweetness in the most delicious way, complimented by the dusting of powdered sugar. Then, she thought, that was an awful lot of citrus--she simply had to offset it with a quick apple mille-feuille, the autumnal scent of roasted apples, maple syrup, and apple brandy making her wistful for October. But wait--no mille-feuille was complete without the bourbon whipped cream on top, and shouldn’t poor lactose intolerant Cal have plenty of options too? Besides, a simple spiced bread wouldn’t take too long, and the mixture of star anise, ginger, and cinnamon, sweetened with honey and rife with dried apricots and plums, would be sure to make a delicious sweet toast for breakfast.

Even still, it wasn’t truly over until she noticed that several cartons of eggs--which she, for obvious reasons, tended to buy in bulk--were set to expire soon, and it would certainly be foolish to waste so much money--really, she hardly had a choice! She made chocolate macarons with orange ganache, a cherry buttermilk clafoutis; she made kouign-amann, with its buttery dough and sugary crust, and, in a desperate bid to eat through the eggs, another batch of macarons, this time with raspberry-rose buttercream. Struck with a flash of inspiration, she used the egg yolks she’d set aside while whipping the whites into stiff peaks fit for a meringue to make toasted-flour sablé, a sort of moist little sugar cookie, and while she was at it threw in a batch of snickerdoodles--cookies were easy to both make and get rid of in bulk, and besides, they were Cal’s favorite. Lastly, she decided to tackle a chocolate pound cake--quatre-quarts au chocolat de juliette, her mother’s handwriting rebuked her, along with an all-caps reminder to bake it in a bain-marie, PAS au four!!!!!. It made Amy laugh a little, but she couldn’t deny that the water-bath made for a much richer, much more moist final product than the oven. 

She feels a brief rush of shame, looking over it all--it’s truly an improbable amount of baking she’s done, here--but her heart is full, her back aching in a satisfying, productive way. If nothing else, she’s made the house smell like home and has ensured that anyone who enters can leave full and satisfied. Finally, she removes her apron and checks her watch--perfect. She has about half an hour to get to work for her 8pm-midnight shift, a fairly non-intensive desk position at one of the campus libraries, and she’ll more likely than not have enough free time to look over her chemistry notes. As for the baked goods, she opts to leave them out, but takes a few moments to write out sticky notes (“dairy free! Come right in, Cal!”; “full of dairy! Cals beware!”), and smiles gently as she thinks of Cal coming home to a warm kitchen and plenty to eat. “That boy is too damn skinny,” she mumbles to herself fondly, and flicks off the kitchen light, leaving the one above the oven on to bathe the kitchen in a warm, welcoming glow. 

Cal is not having a good day. 

He shivers as another gust of wind blows what feels like through him, making his teeth chatter as he attempts to sink even lower into his hoodie. The slumping motion does not agree with his cramping lower belly, and he groans, straightening back up with an arm looped around his stomach. 

Any day at this time of month for him is a difficult one. He knows for a fact that he “passes,” but he still feels uncomfortably seen, feels like he has to hide himself from view as much as possible. It certainly doesn’t help that his skin hurts, that his belly bloats and his bound chest becomes sore, that despite the fact that he no longer bleeds, he gets all the associated symptoms, yeah, thanks for that, genetics. Even so, Cal isn’t new to this, exactly, and he can deal with the cramping, can even handle the accompanying dysphoria like a champ, but today has been extraordinarily awful. He couldn’t sleep last night, feeling in turns too hot and too cold, and barely made it to his bio class this morning; all the coffee machines were down in the dining hall, meaning his eyes were burning with exhaustion by the time he was halfway through bio, let alone his other two classes of the day; perhaps most damning at all, the paper he’s been counting on being due next week is actually due this week, causing him to spend an extra few hours in the library after class, barely awake, forcing himself to get something, anything onto the page; and, the cherry on top of it all, he missed the last bus home, hence tramping home now in the dark and the rain. More than one car has splashed him as it’s passed, and his jeans are practically soaked through. 

He’s cold, he’s exhausted, he barely even made a dent in the paper, and his fucking stomach hurts, the cramps now joined by an anxious knot; as much as he wants to take comfort from the fact that he can see the apartment complex getting steadily closer, he also knows that he’s going to be home alone, and something about that just does not sit well with him at the moment that Cal doesn’t want to analyze, thank you very much. 

He shivers his way up the stairs leading to the apartment, down the exceedingly long corridor, through the front door, and is almost immediately assailed by both a rush of welcome warmth and a rush of smells so delicious and overpowering that he knows immediately that today was a stress-baking day for Amy. Something drains out of Cal then, equal parts tension and restraint, the anxious buzzing of his thoughts thrown off by the sheer number of baked goods spread across the counter top. He lets his backpack fall to the floor with a thud. His stomach rumbles--he ate today, but not well--and he sort of knows he’s doomed when he catches the scent of chocolate, as well as when his eyes land on a plate of snickerdoodles (which very much does not make a lump rise in his throat, okay, it’s whatever, it doesn’t  matter, Amy made his favorite cookie for him in the middle of her own stress-fueled baking marathon, it’s whatever). Amy will be home soon. Quincy, too, at some point. He’ll be fine. He just needs to do what he can until then, and there’s no shortage of snacks to keep him busy while he waits. 

Shocking no one less than him, Cal has many, many regrets, and at least half of them are baked goods he has put into his body over the last hour. He whimpers a little, oh-so-gently palming his belly, which has distressingly little give even when he ventures to apply a little more pressure with his fingertips. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this bloated, heavy with food and swollen with almond milk, and he’d be lying if he said he’s not fighting tears, beyond ashamed to be in this state: slumped sitting on the floor, back supported by the side of the counter, shirt riding up to expose the pink flesh of his belly. He has to swallow thickly a few times, imagining the sugary sludge that’s surely squelching through his insides right now, trying to force back a dangerous burp that squeezes out anyway and leaves the taste of honey and cinnamon in the back of his mouth. He tried to be good, and that’s maybe what sucks the most. He started with a few snickerdoodles, ostensibly the only dessert on the counter that had been made for him, unable to hold back a little groan of pleasure at the taste, buttery and comforting and complemented perfectly by the crunch of cinnamon and sugar. He had four before pouring himself a tall glass of almond milk, chasing a few more cookies with it before deciding to investigate the irresistible scent of chocolate wafting from the plate of croissants. The chocolate might be a bit much for his lactose intolerance, he decided, and opted for two thick slices of the spiced bread instead, toasted and slathered with ghee. He swore they tasted like fall, like tramping through leaves and Halloween costumes when he was young. Something about filling his stomach after being so hungry and uncomfortable all day, recklessly, indulgently, eased the tightness of his chest, until he could scarcely even feel the chill from his still-damp jeans. 

He had already begun to feel rather full, but his interest was still piqued by the croissants, and he hadn’t even tried the little sugary-looking roll things, or the macaroons, or the cake--Cal squeezes his eyes shut, now, swallowing hard, struggling to even think about how much he’s eaten, but unable to completely erase the contrast from his mind between the overflowing countertop when he first arrived and the countertop now, an alarmingly high number of the cluttered plates more empty than not. All that really matters, he guesses, is that at some point filling his tummy began to hurt more than help, and he kept doing it anyway, and now his cramps have merely been replaced with sickly twinges and upset burbles. 

He tries to take a deep breath, which hitches as an ominous gurgle bubbles from the top to the bottom of his packed belly, and the tears he’s been clamping down on start to roll down his cheeks. He can’t do this, not alone, at least, and Amy’s shift still has 3 hours to go--they must have just barely missed each other. Part of him knows that he will probably feel worlds better if he simply allows himself to throw up, but he can’t handle that, not right now. He cradles his aching stomach for a moment, one trembling hand cupped under his lower belly, bloated and hot, and one resting on the hard little bloat of his tummy, even that feather-light touch ushering up a series of strained burps. After another moment of feeling his stomach contents swirl and slosh uncomfortably inside him, the nausea and misery outweigh his pride, and he hesitantly lets go of his aching stomach, swiping at his tears and pulling out his phone. 

I...fucked up, he texts her, and sends it before he can think twice about it. She replies almost instantly, one of his favorite things about Amy: ?????????????And a moment later, while he’s still figuring out where to begin: everything okay, honey?

The fragile control Cal has over his emotions abruptly slips at that, and he lets out a choked sob, swallowing hard when the motion upsets his tummy further. It hurts so fucking much, but Amy, Amy who bakes his favorites even in the middle of her own mini-crisis, Amy who takes the time to write adorable little sticky notes oriented around Cal’s dietary restrictions, Amy who calls everyone in the world honey because she cares about everyone in the goddamn world, Amy the literal human ball of sunshine--just, fucking Amy, okay? 

Yeah. I mean. I’m safe, but I’m not okay. I… Cal doubles over as a cramp twists deep in his belly, panting a little. Maybe it would be easier to just let himself be sick. You baked...a lot. I had a bad day. 

:((((( did u see my notes???? what’s going on??????

Cal has to blink hard against the tears at that, a new layer of guilt joining the anxiety and the shame of all he’s eaten. Stress-baking or not, this all had to have taken Amy a few hours, and he’d eaten right through a fair amount of almost everything. 

I’m sorry. I did see your notes. It’s not lactose, I just ate a /lot/ and I feel sick and I don’t know what to do 

A moment later, his phone buzzes with a call. It’s Amy, of course. 

“H-hey,” he manages, sniffing, and then hiccups just before a deep burp gurgles up from his churning belly, clamping a hand over his mouth for a moment as his gorge rises with it. 

“Cal, honey,” Amy says, sounding so fucking sad for him. It’s not like she’s never seen the fallout of his stress-binging before. “How much did you eat?” 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Cal says hoarsely, his throat burning from stubbornly swallowing back stomach acid. “I’m just nauseous and sick and--and—” He falters, feeling like a child. “And I just really had a bad day, like a really bad day, Amy, and I know your day wasn’t so good either or you wouldn’t be stress-baking but I just, I’m so fucking tired, and my paper is due and—” He gags, suddenly, and has to take a moment to collect himself, hyper-aware of Amy’s concerned silence on the other end of the line-- “and I can’t do this alone,” he finally manages, voice cracking, and it is only the knowledge that openly weeping would send him over the edge right now that keeps him from dissolving into exhausted tears. 

“I’m so sorry, Cal. I wish I could be there,” Amy murmurs soothingly, and it’s almost, almost like she’s there. “If I could leave work I’d do it in a heartbeat, but I’m going to call Quincy for you, okay?” 

Cal’s heart squeezes at that, half-anxiety, half-hope, and maybe something else, too, a deep sense of being known--Amy knows that Cal knows that she can’t leave work. Amy knows that there’s only one other person that he’d want. Amy knows that he can’t--because of anxiety, because of what he sees as a low stakes problem relative to Quincy’s very high-stakes life, because, because, because--reach out to him himself when he’s like this. “Okay,” he whispers, and hope she hears the gratitude in it. 

“Of course,” she says, so warmly that it makes Cal’s heart ache a little. “Hang in there, okay? Try to stay calm for me. I’ll let you know when he’s coming.” 

“Love you,” he mumbles, and lets his phone clatter to the floor as soon as he hears the beep that means she’s hung up, clutching at his belly, feeling his stomach lurch and rumble. He’s so fucking full. He’s such a fucking idiot. 

Some time later, Quincy comes for him. 

Cal startles when the door creaks open, then whimpers a little at the resulting complaints of his stomach. There’s just so much pressure, his stomach tight and hot as though nothing is moving at all, though with all that he feels burbling against his palm, that can’t possibly be true. Quincy looks a little frantic in the doorway before his eyes come to rest on Cal, still curled up pitifully on the floor, both hands pressed gently against his bloated stomach. 

“Oh—” Quincy breathes, shutting the door behind him, crossing the space between them in an instant and crouching in front of Cal. “God, Cal, Amy scared me half to death. Are you alright?” 

“I’m—” Cal has to stop and breathe, composing himself as a wave of nausea crashes over him, his stomach squelching unpleasantly. All at once, he realizes that he’s no longer alone, that perhaps even if he should keep suppressing everything, he no longer wants to, and he no longer cares if he’s sick, he just wants to feel better, wants to be in his bed, wants to be warm and comfortable and safe--all at once, he’s doubling over his own lap, sobbing his heart out, barely even registering the flicker of amusement he’d ordinarily feel at Quincy’s eyes going comically round behind his glasses. His stomach aches, pain ringing throughout his abdomen at the movement, and before he can process much more than that a warm palm folds itself over his distended stomach, firmly enough to quiet the cramping there, but lightly enough to keep from exacerbating the nausea.

  “Cal,” Quincy says, in that low, soothing voice of his, “I am so sorry that you’re hurting, and I’m going to make that go away, but to get you feeling better, I have to get you off the floor. I can’t imagine that you are ready to move just now?”

  “No,” Cal breathes, his usual shyness dominated by hours of physical discomfort. “Please, just—” Tears dribble down his cheeks, his lack of sleep and general exhaustion beginning to catch up with him. 

Quincy seems to hear him anyway. “Okay, hey, heyheyhey, okay, that is perfectly fine. I’m here, alright? I’m here to help you feel better.” 

Ever so gently, Quincy eases himself behind Cal, so that his back is supported by Quincy’s chest rather than the hard base of the kitchen counter. Equally gently, his arms wind around Cal’s waist, both hands coming to rest on his abused stomach. He applies pressure to the bloated space between Cal’s navel and his ribs, rubbing in broad, gentle strokes, almost immediately ushering up a deep belch that has Cal going slack with the smallest but most welcome measure of relief. Quincy is so damn warm, and his rough palm is heaven where it rests on his lower belly, supporting the bloat from below to take the strain off of his overfull stomach. His other hand moves from that space in the middle of his abdomen to his stomach, the noticeable overfull bulge where the organ ought to be, rubbing in gentle circles. The pressure is almost too much and Cal shifts to tell him so, succeeding only in ushering up several more rumbling belches, one right after the other, left gasping with the relief of it. He is still painfully aware of how full he is, packed utterly to the brim with food, but the release of trapped air is so needed and so lovely. 

Quincy holds him like this for a while, coaxing up the occasional belch, paying extra attention to the twinges that make Cal groan with nausea. Cal finds his eyes watering again, this time with sheer gratitude for his dearest friends, for their kindness, for the quiet lack of judgement Quincy exhibits as he rubs his aching tummy. Eventually, Cal feels like he might be able to move without throwing up, and Quincy supports his weight with an arm around his waist as they make their way to Cal’s bedroom. 

“I’ll be right back,” Quincy says after depositing Cal on the bed gently. “Amy said you’d want a hoodie and some shorts. How did she do?”  

Cal smiles a little sadly, having trouble finding his voice, and Quincy barely misses a beat, busying himself retrieving one of Cal’s biggest hoodies and a soft pair of pajama shorts. “Either way, let’s give it a try. You should probably take your binder off--all that squeezing can’t be helping, and no wonder you’re shivering in those wet jeans!” He ducks into Cal’s bathroom for a moment, filling up the cup next to the sink with cold water from the tap, and offers it to Cal, making sure his shaking hands don’t cause a spill before he lets go. “Try to take some sips of that, okay? Trust me. We need to break up all that sugar.” 

Cal can’t argue with that, nodding, and waits until Quincy lets the door swing mostly-shut behind him, taking the deepest breath he can manage. His stomach twinges as he bends over to put the water on his nightstand and lifts his arms to pull off his shirt. wriggling out of his binder, and he pants for a moment as the sudden release of pressure on his stomach causes the nausea to flare before it thankfully passes again. He puts on the hoodie, immediately comforted by the billowing fabric, and wriggles out of his jeans and into the pajama shorts as quickly as he can manage, forcing himself to take a measured sip of water. His stomach tightens around it, and he swallows hard. 

“Hey,” Quincy says softly, knocking twice on the slightly-ajar door before pushing it completely open with his elbow. His hands are occupied with a tv tray, carrying a heating pad and a steaming mug of tea.  “Don’t force it. You’re still very full.” 

“Y-yeah,” Cal manages, finding his voice. “Tummy really hurts.” 

“I know,” Quincy murmurs apologetically, offering Cal the heating pad. Cal practically melts when the heat makes contact with his sore belly, instantly beginning to soothe his cramping muscles, even working its magic on the fullness, just a little. “I’m sorry you’re hurting, Cal. I know you’re very full, but when you can, you should try to drink some water and this tea. It’s peppermint, so it should help with the nausea.” 

Flicking off the overheard light in lieu of Cal’s carefully-hung string lights, Quincy leaves the mug of tea on the bedside table closest to Cal, spreading the quilt at the foot of the bed over him, and Cal instinctively lets his head drop onto Quincy’s shoulder when he climbs onto the bed beside him. 

Cal nearly weeps again when Quincy reaches  for his bloated tummy without being asked, resuming a soothing pattern, rubbing wide, sweeping circles over his abdomen, applying pressure to the bloated place beneath his ribs, to his tense sides, to the hard knot of his stomach. Each instance of carefully-applied pressure coaxes up a series of rumbling belches that Cal didn’t realize he was holding in, eventually freeing up enough room for him to sip at the tea. 

“Amy will be home soon,” Quincy says after several moments. “How are you feeling?” 

“Like an idiot who stuffed my face with sweets all afternoon,” Cal mumbles, still wrestling with guilt, and Quincy frowns as his belly emits an audible squelch, smoothing a hand over it in slow arcs. Cal drinks a bit more deeply at the tea, unable to withhold a sigh of relief as it begins to fill the burbly places in his tummy, blissfully soothing the ache. 

“You aren’t an idiot, Cal,” Quincy says sincerely. “Amy says this sometimes happens when you get overwhelmed. You’re overwhelmed.” 

Something about the sincerity in his voice makes something big and terrifying shift in Cal’s chest, and he abruptly puts down the mug of tea in favor of hiding his face in Quincy’s chest, narrow frame wracked with tired sobs. He dimly registers that at least his stomach doesn’t react poorly to the movement. “I am,” he manages eventually, as Quincy gently shushes him, stroking his belly as though to keep it calm. “I am so exhausted, Quince.” 

“So rest,” Quincy says simply, “at least for now. And when Amy gets here, we’ll talk about what we’re going to do next. Okay?” 

Cal sniffs, nodding, still hiding his face, and Quincy lets him, simply bringing his arms around him, smoothing his hands over Cal’s back. Against all odds, particularly the still-overpowering sense of fullness, Cal feels his eyelids drooping. All of a sudden, everything has caught up with him, and he can barely form a coherent thought. It has been a day, his belly is now more warm than upset, and Quincy is a very, very comfortable pillow. 

“I’m gonna take that as a yes,” Quincy says, and Cal feels the rumble of his chest as he gives a low chuckle, too far gone at this point to respond. He’s going to have a lot to explain when he wakes up, but for now…

For now, Cal lays with his head on Quincy’s shoulder, arms looped around his neck, and Quincy pulls the quilt up around them. “I’ve got you,” Quincy murmurs, and the next thing Cal knows is blessed sleep.

#tiny-tum #perhaps it's for the better since i s2g that entire 500 words was the first sequence describing what amy baked but #i think they were like. better words! #i digress this is what we've got #Amy #Cal #Quincy #stuffing #stress eating #stress baking #belly rubs #dysphoria #side fic #answered #i think the reason im so unhappy with this is that i want quincy to be somewhat mysterious until the major fics are released but also i just #cant imagine anyone being super invested until they know more about these ppl #which is fair #but...yeah! hope ppl enjoy! #why am i so anxious about this

[madammuffins]

Fairy Summers is a short story request by @vhum for my 300 follower celebration.

It is a World of Make Believe AU featuring Chelsea x Puck told over a series of summers as they age together and manouver through lifes struggles, fantastical and mortal.

I will be uploading in parts just for easier reading. Also, playlist.

CW: Contains coming-of-age themes, familial abuse suggestion.

~*~*~*~

She didn't really understand what the old lady in black was saying. Chelsea did like being able to wear her blue sparkly dress though, and her shoes echoed on the wood floors. ʻAnakē Susie placed a hard hand on her shoulder, stilling her squirming body.

"Seeing as no other relatives are here to claim the child, we've already run over an hour on this case, and sadly Mr. and Mrs. Kalua's living will was not legally notarized… " The old lady leaned forward, "Chelsea, dear?"

The young girls hands gripped the chair, ʻAnakē Susie's hand still on her shoulder, her thumb digging in against her shoulder. "Yes?"

"Do you like your mother's cousin?" She motioned, her sleeve billowed. "Would you like to stay with them?"

"Oh I love sleepovers!" Chelsea beamed. "We always sleepover when we visit Hawaii." She kicked her legs, bouncing against the chair. "For weeks!"

"Yes." The judge grinned, her face softening kindly. "Would you like to live with your mother's cousins? Now that your parents aren't with us."

Chelsea frowned at that, "I guess." She answered slow, chipped nail finding a divot in the wood, "but I'll have to go home with them when they come back."

"I'm afraid she still doesn't completely understand, Your Honor." Susan's arm snaked around her soon-to-be ward, the picture of concern. "It's such a terrible concept-"

"And she is so young." The judge nodded. "Very well. Let's wrap this up, shall we? The court rules in favor of the plaintiff Susan Kalua suing for legal guardianship of Chelsea Kalua. As her foster mother you will receive monthly sums to offset the cost of support. From here on out you, Mrs. Kalua, and your husband," Hard grey eyes moved to the bodies on the first bench just behind Susan, "will be expected to treat Chelsea as a member of your family. A daughter of your own."

"Of course!" Susan nodded, eyes glistening, matte pink lips pressed together and wobbling.

Chelsea wriggled against the fingers digging into her arms. In the muggy heat of Hawaiian summer the blue dress had become suffocating.

~*~*~

Chelsea pulled her knees to her chin, watching Anakala Joe pull the pig from the kalua. The smell of roasted pineapple and coconut and spices hit her square in the stomach.

"Anakē," she shifted on the tree root, "Anakē Susie I'm so hungry."

"Excuse me, Sis." Susie turned from the table, "I gotta lolo keiki."

The auntie chuckled as she continued chopping. Chelsea's brows furrowed as she watched Susan wipe her hands on a rag that she shoved back into her apron.

Chelsea unraveled slowly, I'm not crazy.

Susan's hand was still sticky when she grabbed Chelsea's arm. Her dark hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail but the summer had the loose strands sticking to her neck. Chelsea didn't like that she smelled of mangos and onions. The combination made her feel sick as her bare feet stumbled hard over uneven ground, struggling to keep up with too long strides.

"Anakē-" Chelsea's protest cutoff when Susan threw her arm like it was scalding her.

"I am your mother now, keiki." She crouched down, voice hard and scratching. Her eyes were cold. "Tsk, aisus."

Chelsea shuddered at the warmth flooding into her skin through fingertips that now stroked instead of clenched. "I-I want Mama."

"I know, Chells." Susan's eyes closed, her voice was heavy. "I want her, too. But, darling, she's gone. She's never coming back. I'm your Mama now. I'm your mom. Call me mom." Lids snapped open as fingers tightened, shaking the child quick, tight, violent. "Call me mom."

The demand was hot and tight in Chelsea's chest. "I-I want Daddy. I want Dad…" The breeze rustling the trees nearly swallowed her words.

"Call me Mom."

It hurt, the demand. Weaving up into Chelsea's head mingling with the smell making her eyes water.

"Okay, Mom."

Susan's grip loosened, soothing over the sore fingerprint sized aches. "That wasn't so hard now, was it?" Those eyes dipped below unruly hair to peer into tearing eyes. "Don't cry."

"Okay, Mom." Chelsea knew obedience would make her new mom happy; she swallowed the confusion and pain.

"Ah my good girl." Mom stood, patting Chelsea's head. "I need to finish cooking. Dinner smells amazing. Be back in half an hour we won't wait for you. Tardy girls don't get Haupia Pie and Uncle's made the best this year."

"Yes, Mom…" Chelsea watched the woman stand and walk away toward the large strung lights and revelry.

And she immediately went in the opposite direction. Her feet carried her over the smooth path. Her Uncle's house was far from the tourist attractions, the ground lush from volcanic fertile growth. The stars peeked around the fading velvety pink and navy sky. She passed by The Spot, a not so local secret swimming place, watching a few of her older cousins and her new brother splashing before continuing on; as if she could outrun the nightmare by wandering the wilds.

Night caught up to her quickly, the sky so full of starlight it looked as though it were diseased. Chelsea felt the prick of worry grip her stomach. She knew the island well, but not at night. At night the land was different, wilder, stranger. At night the trees were taller, the noises louder, the shadows were things creeping around to grab at her. Chelsea's hands tangled in her My Little Pony shirt as her legs churned faster. Red glowing blurs blinked and vanished in the distance.

Faster.

Something in the dark chuckled.

Faster.

The hair on her arms and neck pricked, chicken skin flooded over her as she broke into a run, her chest heaving. She could hear a second set of footfalls behind her. Heavier. Faster.

"No!" Her little voice cried out, her eyes watered. "Please!"

A fork in the road, she veered off the path she didn't recognize. The footsteps slowed, walking after her. She could feel it enjoying this. Her body shuddered as her lungs burned, her feet felt like lead as she rounded a sharp turn.

Ahead was a cave. She could hide there.

Chelsea ran for it, training her eyes on the rocky maw. The footsteps behind picking up pace, loping after her. It didn't matter. It wouldn't catch her now.

She crossed from dirt onto the smooth rock, going slow to avoid cutting her feet. The thing screeched and howled and paced just feet beyond the entrance, but didn't follow. Couldn't follow.

Chelsea didn't look back. Wouldn't look back. She knew better. Chelsea had heard the stories of the things that walked on the islands. She knew if she looked it would have her. Besides, deeper in the cave she could hear music and there was a glow.

Laughter like none she'd ever heard before, clear and musical. Like running water and bells and violins. It all echoed down the cave to her, beckoning her. And so she followed. The rock turned to moss, vines, fern, and mushrooms began springing up thicker and thicker as she continued, as the light got brighter and the voices louder.

A blinding light greeted her; enveloped her. When her eyes adjusted she saw the most fantastical party of imaginary people she had never dreamed. Moving through them they welcomed her, touching her hair, twirling her to the beat, using their butterfly wings to take her higher, higher above the trees and gently floating back down.

Some had goat legs, some had hair made of flowers, others had eyes of red fire. It was the one with hair like water that grabbed her hand at last, stopping the endless twirling and dipping and spinning.

"Come, my child." Its voice rang like three people were talking at once. "Let's feed you. You are hungry are you not, my sweet?"

Awed at the way its skin glimmered gold Chelsea could only nod. She was suddenly very hungry; so hungry she could eat everything at the table the beautiful imaginary person led her to.

There were pies and tarts and breads and custards. Cakes and treacle and juices.

"We're cooking a pig back at Uncle's house." Chelsea grinned up at the creature, lost in the galaxy eyes.

"Were you, my doll?" Its long hand grabbed a wooden cup, filling it with a honey colored juice that smelled like poplars. "We don't eat much meat here. That's for the other kind."

Chelsea reached for her juice. "Oh I'm thirsty."

"I know, sweet one." Fingers dropped to her hair, tangled in it, slid down, repeated. "We have so few children play with us these days. You're such a delight. Will you drink and stay longer?"

Chelsea looked up, "I can't stay long. My new mom-my mom. She doesn't like being my new mom. She's just mom now…" Little fingers dug into the grooves of the cup. "She said I have to be home in half an hour. I won't get dinner if I'm not."

"Oh, Dear." It smiled softly, hand wrapping around her own. "We have so much food for you here."

Chelsea's eyes lit with glee. "You do! Mom won't mind if I already eat, right?"

"No, little one. Now drink and eat. Stay and dance with me? Be my friend. Please?"

Those endless eyes gazed at her and Chelsea smiled, raising the cup to her lips when a blur smacked it out of her hands.

"No!"

"Puck!" The imaginary person rose, eyes narrowed. "How dare-"

"Oh, look!" The little imaginary person craned around to gaze at the table, "Pigsnout, Taft, and Luffkin are fighting over the pies again!"

The imaginary being tensed, mouth opening and closing before turning and storming off towards the mess of bodies on the table.

"Don't you know anything!" The little green and gold person turned on her. "You humans are all so stupid."

Chelsea squeaked when he grabbed her hand.

"You don't eat the food, you don't drink the- Hey!"

She pulled out of his grip, hands tracing over his wings. "Are you real?" Moving to knocking on his horns, "Are you imaginary?" She pinched at his skin. "Am I-"

"Stop!" He stomped, turning to her. "My name is Puck. Oh!" He covered his mouth, "I shouldn't have told you that."

"Why not?" Chelsea's head tilted as he grabbed a handful of treats.

"It's a fairy thing." He shrugged, popping a piece of food in his mouth. "C'Mon. I'll take you home."

"I…" Chelsea looked back at the fae dancing and playing. "What if I want to stay here?"

It was his turn to look at her curiously. "You would be stuck as a kid and finally returned home after a hundred years."

Brown eyes widened. "A HUNDRED YEARS?! That's like a whole lifetime."

Puck snorted, wings fluttering. "Yeah. Let's go."

He grabbed her hand again, leading her further away from the fairies and music and food. Chelsea's feet found smooth volcanic rock again.

"Oh." She tugged on his hand, making him pause midchew. "There was a-a thing out there."

He frowned, swallowed. "I think I know. It won't bother us."

Chelsea's stomach growled. "Puck…"

The grass was soft under her feet, the stars winked through the trees.

"Puck I'm hungry." He shrugged, eating another bread piece. "Puck, share your food." Chelsea stomped, surprised when nearly immediately he offered his outstretched hand. "O-oh. Thank you."

"You…" he frowned, watching as she grabbed two pieces. "You shouldn't eat those."

"Too late." Chelsea swallowed guiltily. "Sorry."

Her hand found his again and he stared at it for a while. "How did you find the fairy ring? Most people who wander into them are lost or want to be lost."

"My new mom." Chelsea shuddered, moving closer to a less green, more skin colored Puck. "She's not nice. My real mom and dad are gone. They're dead. And my new mom…" Chelsea bit her lip, fingers knotting in a loose thread at her hem. "Your wings and horns are gone."

"It's my disguise." Puck's grip tightened as they passed by the still noisy swimming hole. "We're friends, right?"

Chelsea blinked, nodded. "I'm Chelsea Kalua!" She pulled her hand from his grip and presented it proudly, chest puffed out.

With a laugh he took it, "Puck Goodfellow." They shook once before interweaving their fingers again.

"But we're leaving tomorrow." Chelsea frowned.

"Don't worry, 'Little One'." He winked, smiling at her giggle as they approached the family. "I'll find you next year."

Her head snapped to him. "You will?!"

He nodded, pushing her forward as he faded to the shadows. "I know your name now. We're friends. Besides," his eyes glowed heavy green in the darkness as the rest of him vanished, "you owe me a favor."

~*~*~

Since I want to represent the Hawaiian heritage there are Pidgin and Hawaiian terms used in this short story. If something was used incorrectly please feel free to let me know.

Terms:

Aisus- sigh, shucks, darn, etc

ʻAnakē - Auntie (related)

ʻAnakala - Uncle (older brother, related)

Kalua - underground oven for pig/turkey roasts traditionally

Lolo - crazy

Keiki - Child

Haupia - A coconut pudding

Uncle - a friendly, respectful term used to refer to older men. Relation doesn't matter.

~*~*~

Tag List: @vhum @thelastoftheflyinggraysons @nemothesurvivor

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#fairy summers #modern fairytale #urban fantasy #chelsea x devon #world of make believe au #wip #300 follower celebration #writeblr #writeblr community #writblr #writing #my writing