#the very heavy box. thankfully full of blankets

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

yall would not Believe the level of 'just ate the floor' i achieved today

#so im packing right. and the room im storing the packed boxes in is at the end of the hall #so i just push the boxes down the hall at light speed and sprint over the threshold into the room #BUT. but. #i. forgot to tape the bottom of the box #the very heavy box. thankfully full of blankets #so im sprinting this box down the hall #it hits the threshold #And Stops In Place #so naturally i trip over the box - my knee goes through it #i kinda flip over it so that my upper half hits the floor #my hip is hooked over the side of the overturned box #my legs are up in the air like im doing a cartwheel #absolutely unprompted #IT WAS REALLY FUCKING FUNNY OKAY #it didnt hurt at all which is a huge plus - i didnt even get a bruise! #luckily im Very good at breaking my own falls on the very rare occasion they happen #but man. i just laid there laughing my ass off #total waste of a box but yk whatever #ill try to recreate it in Scribble Form later #had to do a lil somersault thing to get off the box i was lowkey stuck.... #i mean i can only imagine what happened. i went down so quickly...

[weareallstoriesintheend]

The Neighbours (Adam Sackler x Plus Size!Reader)

Summary: You move into a new neighbourhood, new apartment building and straight into a new life. On your first arrival into this new world you're greeted by a man that will make more of an impression that you ever could have expected.

Notes: This is a reader insert fic series however I wanted specifically to write the character as plus size. This is something I've wanted to do for a really long time.

Even if you don't identify directly with the physical descriptors of the character I hope you enjoy all the same. This is just one persons (my) feelings, opinions and experiences that I have put into this and I'm more than aware that people experience being plus size in so many different ways.

Please feel free to reach out and talk to me about this if you'd like too 💕

Chapter 1 - A Convenient Meeting

Word count: 1162

The sun shone directly above you, bringing beads of sweat to gather uncomfortably at your hairline as you dragged the last box down out of the truck. It landed with a thud at your tired feet and you huffed with pure exhaustion. Your t-shirt clung to your body in the most uncomfortable way and you picked and pulled it until it fell smoother on your waist without sticking to the sweat lining your back.

All the furniture had been taken inside already by the very gracious and helpful movers and now you were just hauling box after box, a strange weight combination of mostly books and blankets that was making your arms ache.

With the final box at your feet, you waved off the movers in their truck, thanking them for their invaluable help. You took a big deep breath and began your first proper look around at your new neighbourhood, it looked nice enough you told yourself. Pretty quiet for midday but bustling enough that it didn’t feel eerie. Moving to New York from your hometown had felt like a dream, albeit a mildly cliché dream. But a new job and some exciting work was calling and you had answered that call.

Now you were here that all too familiar anxiety was creeping up, a heavy crushing feeling blooming like warm water through your chest. Brushing it off you picked up the last box, thankfully a fairly light one, and carried inside.

The building didn’t have an elevator so your thighs burned as you climbed flight after flight of stairs. But finally, you reached your floor and realised that one of the movers had closed the door behind them meaning you were going to have to wrestle your keys out of your pocket. Twisting the box around you tried to balance it on one arm, using the door frame as a prop as you tugged at your keys which were stuck on the tight material of your jeans pocket. You huffed in agitation as the keys wouldn’t wriggle themselves loose and the box began slipping slightly in your pathetically tired grip.

“You need a hand with that?”

A deep voice spoke from behind you; you almost dropped the box and cried out. You hadn’t even heard anyone approach or a door open, so didn’t even get a second to look up as your keys unlatched themselves dramatically from your pocket and you had to fight to catch those too.

“Ooh fuck, shit sorry” the voice laughed, two large arms dipped forward to catch the box from underneath as it slipped slightly in your already waning grip.

You looked up finally and smiled, “No problem, you just startled me. Thank you”

The man that stood before you was large and even that was almost too simple of a descriptor for the wall that stood before you. He was overwhelming, not just in height as he towered over you but the width of his shoulders was a sight to behold. A camo green t-shirt was stretched across a broad strong looking chest and blue jeans hung low on his hips. Despite how intimidating his stature may have seemed his face was recognisable as something perfectly sweet. Caramel brown puppy-dog eyes, a gorgeous aquiline nose and goofy smile surrounded by full lips that socialites would pay thousands for. Pretty freckles dotted and smattered his pale skin so much so you could reach up and trace patterns in them.

A passing thought remarked how unusually beautiful he was, striking to say the least, before you shrugged it off as he spoke again.

“I got this, go ahead” he gestured to the door for you to unlock it.

He was still smiling down at you, a soft almost tentative smile that made you instinctively return one back. You clicked your keys in the lock and swung the door open revealing a mess of boxes and furniture all in the middle of the room.

You pointed in through your now open front door, “You wanna stick that down over there?”

He nodded without a word and walked inside, dropping the box down carefully on top of a pile of other ones. He wiped his hands on his jeans awkwardly before extending one out to you, “Adam”

“Y/N” you said, reaching out to shake his hand. His touch was warm and his handshake firm but you couldn’t help but notice how his hands swallowed yours whole, they were practically the size of dinner plates! A light flush crept up your cheeks at the thought but you figured you could play it off as just being overheated from carrying everything… right? That would work!

He coughed and let go of your hand, he absentmindedly looked around him the silence growing more and more awkward as this complete stranger stood in the middle of your new home. You tapped your fingers on your thighs trying desperately to think of something to say.

“You got groceries?” he asked suddenly, “It’s hot out, you’ll need like bottled water and shit”

It took you a second but you shook your head in response. You shrugged, “Not a damn clue where anything is in this neighbourhood, but I’ll… figure it out”

“I could show you?”

Your eyebrows shot up your forehead “Really? You…umm… you don’t have too. That’s okay”

New city, complete stranger in your apartment offering to show you around the neighbourhood – this was starting to feel kinda ‘victim of a new Netflix documentary’. But his smile and soft eyes were inherently disarming.

“Nah it’ll be fun” he grinned, “I’ve gotta get some milk anyway… come on!”

He bounded out of the room and you had to bite your bottom lip to keep back a giggle. He was surprisingly bouncy for one so large.

“You strike me as the kinda guy that drinks milk straight from the carton” you said to him jokingly, following him close behind and grabbing your keys from where they had been left in the lock.

You had to stop dead in your tracks when you realised he’d halted straight in front of you and was eyeing you suspiciously, “How did you know that?”

And off he went again. Smiling to yourself you pulled the door shut and jogged after him, his long legs carrying him half way down the stairs in an instant. Your new neighbour was… interesting.

Adam was waiting for you on the street, bouncing a little back and forth from toe to heel. “Ready to go?” he beamed at you and held out his arm for you to take. You giggle, eyebrows still furrowed in mild confusion at how friendly this complete stranger was being. Linking your arm with his, the long strides he took tugged you forward.

The voice in the back of your mind told you, with a coy smile, that you weren’t going to get rid of this new friend anytime soon. And honestly? You didn’t think you minded all that much.

#adam sackler #hbo girls #adam sackler x reader #adam sackler x you #plus size #plus size reader #adam sackler x plus size reader #adcu #adcu fic

[theskywaslookingback]

hands

“Somehow I thought the place would have been smaller,” Martin says, bag slung over his shoulder as he looks up at the cottage. “It’s nicer than I would have given Daisy credit for.”

Jon hums, pulling his bag out of the boot of the car they’d borrowed from Basira and letting the lid fall shut with a heavy thunk. The cottage sits nestled at the base of a large hill, surrounded by lush green grass and the last vestiges of summer flowers. Far off in the distance a couple of cows graze lazily, just small dark shapes in the dying sunlight. Bugs hum in the air around them. It’s small and quiet, just the kind of place Jon thinks Daisy might have liked, actually.

The cottage itself is stone painted a stark white, with dark blue, peeling shutters closed tight to the windows. One of the shutters lies broken on the ground, and the glass it had been protecting is spider-webbed with cracks. Two terra cotta flower pots sit on either side of the front door, both empty. There was no evidence that a welcome mat had ever been laid between them. To the left of the door was a box filled with what had once been firewood but was now damp with mist and rot. Jon shuddered to think about creatures they might find lurking in the bottom of that box.

“Charming,” Jon says, the corner of his mouth turned down in distaste. He finds the key in a false rock on the right side of the cottage, just where Basira had said it would be, and lets them inside.

It’s clear from the moment they step inside that Daisy had not visited this particular safe house in quite some time. The air inside the cottage is thick and unpleasantly cold, smelling of dust and age. Dust motes catch in the dim light of the bulb as Jon turns on the light, and he’s displeased to see cobwebs sitting stubbornly in the corners of the room. The wood floor looks old and worn, scratchy looking area rugs dotted along like haphazard patchwork quilt. Jon loathes to take his shoes off.

“Well,” Martin says from behind him, crowding in close, “at least the electric is working.”

Jon shoots a withering glare over his shoulder and steps inside, letting Martin close the door behind them. He drops his bag next to the uncomfortable mound of fabric that someone generous might have once called a settee and goes to check on the rest of the place.

Jon checks the taps in the kitchen and is relieved to find the water running. There’s an expired  box of Tetley’s in the pantry that will have to make do until they can make their way down to the village to do a proper bit of shopping, and a couple cans of peaches that might be passable as dinner or breakfast if he can convince Martin to eat them.

He can hear Martin moving about in the sitting room, the creak of the windows and shutters as Martin pushes them open to get the place aired out a bit. “Might be a bit chilly with the windows open,” Jon says.

“There’s a radiator,” Martin replies, “I’ll see about getting it on.”

“Right.”

The hall light flickers when he turns it on, but it gives him enough light to see by. The cottage itself has only four rooms - kitchen, sitting room, one bedroom, and one bath - and Jon can’t bring himself to be surprised that the only bed appears to be a full size. He checks the dresser drawers and finds them empty, thankfully, no nesting mice or other visitors.

The bed is a utilitarian thing. One pillow, though he’s frankly surprised it even has that, white sheets with tight tucked corners, and a navy blue duvet. Jon pulls it off the bed to shake off the dust and sneezes, his eyes watering. He opens the single window with a little difficulty, having to stand on his tip-toes to get it all the way open, and unlocks the shutters. Night has settled quickly over the little valley, but the moon is bright and nearly full, pouring silver light into the room.

When Jon makes his way back into the sitting room Martin is crouched in front of the radiator and frowning, the sleeves of his button down shirt rolled up to show the light brown skin of his forearm. He has a birthmark on his left arm, nestled next to the crease where his arm bends, a dark spot like a smudge of dirt that Jon wants to press his mouth to.

Jon clears his throat, the tips of his ears burning a little. “Any luck?”

Martin jerks a little, swinging his head up to look at him. Jon feels his mouth go a little dry at the sight if he’s honest. Martin’s dark hair sweeping over his forehead, those sleeves rolled back on those thick arms. He likes the look of Martin at work, those calm dark eyes fixed on a problem that Jon knows he’ll find a solution for. Martin sweeps his eyes over Jon, head to toe, before looking back at the radiator. “I don’t know what Daisy did to this thing, but I think it’s well and truly dead.”

“Did you try plugging it in?”

Martin gives Jon a glare worthy of one of his own and Jon feels his lips turn up into a grin without his permission. “It’s a gas radiator, Jon.” He sighs, “Hopefully the gas is just turned off and it’ll be an easy fix, but we’ll be stuck without it tonight.”

“That’s...not ideal.”

Martin hums in agreement.

Silence settles between them, a not unwelcome weight that Jon’s been getting used to the last few days. “Tea?” Jon asks after a moment for lack of anything more helpful to do.

“That would be lovely, actually. Did you find some?”

“Daisy had some in the pantry, it’s likely ancient, but--”

“Tea is tea.”

Jon wrinkles his nose but doesn’t outwardly disagree.

“I’ll just get some things put away then,” Martin says, picking his bag back up off the floor. “Do you want me to take yours?”

“Leave it. I’ll get it later.”

“Alright.”

Jon finds Daisy’s kettle under the sink and starts to wash it out when he hears Martin say something from down the hall. He turns off the water. “What?”

Martin appears in the entry, biting his lip. “There’s er, there’s only one bed.”

Jon furrows his eyebrows. “I’m aware. I saw the bedroom, Martin.”

“Yeah it’s just--“ Martin trails off, his cheeks flushing. “How are...how are we going to sleep?”

Jon remembers the two days they’d spent in his flat, sleeping in the same bed, their hands tangled together even when sleeping because the thought of being separated was too much to bear. But that had been right after Jon had walked Martin out of the Lonely, so he supposes those were extenuating circumstances, Martin needing an anchor to find himself again. It should be a relief that Martin feels safe enough to want a little distance again, but mostly it just sets off a dull ache in his chest.

Jon feels a sharp pain in his jaw and realizes he’s been clenching his teeth and makes an effort to relax, though his shoulders feel pinned next to his ears. Jon goes back to washing out the kettle, filling it with cool water to boil. He avoids Martin’s eyes and says, “I think there might be some spare linens in the closet. I can take the couch.”

Martin shifts, the old wood floor creaking under his foot. “Are you sure? It doesn’t look very comfortable.”

Jon shrugs. “I’ve slept on worse, when I do manage to sleep. It’ll be fine Martin.”

“Alright. If you’re sure.”

“I am.” Jon says with a finality he doesn’t feel.

He finds a couple of mugs in the cupboard that he rinses out before filling with water and letting the tea bags steep. He brings the mugs back into the sitting room and sets Martin’s down on the table. He takes a sip of his own and grimaces. It’s vile, but far from the worst tea he’s ever had so he makes himself drink it.

Martin appears a minute later from the bedroom  and takes his tea with a grateful little thanks before taking a sip and making a face.

“Tea is tea.” Jon mumbles.

“I’m not sure this still qualifies.” Martin says but drinks it anyway.

They drink the rest of their tea in silence. Martin volunteers to do the washing up while Jon gets his own things put away.

Martin has left him half the dresser for his clothes and made a space for him on the bathroom counter. It feels almost too intimate, their toothbrushes resting side by side, their clothes in the same drawer. Jon tries desperately not to think about it as he changes his clothes for bed and rifles through the little linen closet for a set of sheets.

He finds a set of dark gray sheets and a threadbare red throw blanket that he drags back out into the sitting room. The settee is as uncomfortable as it is ugly, hardly more than a couple of boulders masquerading as a sofa; Although, Jon has spent many a night sleeping on the floor or bent over his desk at the Archives, so maybe he has no real right to complain.

Martin turns off the kitchen light and waits awkwardly for him to finish, hovering around the edges like he wants to say something but doesn’t have the words. “Are you going to be warm enough?” He finally asks, eyes locked onto the throw blanket. The fabric is almost sheer in spots from wear and dotted with holes along one edge.

The chill is almost impossible to ignore, but Jon just shrugs, a jerky up and down motion of his shoulders. “I’ll be fine.”

“Okay, if you’re--“ Martin bites his lip, “Okay. Good night, Jon.”

“Good night, Martin.”

Martin disappears into the bedroom, turning the hall light off, and Jon lets out a shaky breath when he shuts the door behind him with an audible click.

*

Moonlight seeps in through the open windows, the chirp of crickets ringing along the countryside, a chill settling across the fields as if to prove winter will be along soon. Even in his long sleeve and trackie bottoms, two pairs of socks pulled up over his feet, Jon shivers. He keeps staring at the ceiling, tracing along crisscrossing cracks with his eyes. He kicks his feet and wraps the blanket further up his shoulder and tries to relax. The walls creak and shudder, old pipes groaning and settling inside the wall. Jon throws an arm over his eyes and tries not to think about it. He’s almost asleep when he hears the floorboards start to creak, the soft padding of footsteps coming from the hall.

“Jon?” Martin’s voice is soft, a little strained and raspy like he’s anxious, “Are you still awake?”

Jon sits up, rubbing a hand down the side of his face. “Yes, I’m still awake.”

“Oh,” Martin says. Jon can’t quite see him, can just make out the shape of him, long legs and broad shoulders. His arms wrapped around himself like he can’t keep warm. “It’s...it’s cold, isn’t it.”

“Yes.”

“Might--” Martin clears his throat, “Might be easier if we slept together, yeah? Until we get the heating back up.”

“Are you--” Jon pauses, picking at a loose thread on the blanket, “Would you be okay with that?”

“Would I?” Martin blurts, “I, uh, would you? Be okay with that?”

“Of course. We shared before.”

“Yeah we…” Martin takes a step further into the room. The edges of him blur just a bit, and what Jon can make out of his face looks exhausted. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“It doesn’t, it--” Jon chokes on his own honestly, the lump of it hard and solid in his throat, “It’s okay when it’s you.”

Martin’s mouth drops open into a little ‘o’, a shocked exhale of breath coming from him.

Jon immediately wants to take it back. It’s too much, Jon knows, he’s always been too much at exactly the wrong time. He curls his fists into the blanket pooled at his waist, fighting back the sharp wave of panic that ‘this is it, this time he’s ruined it for good’.

“Okay,” Martin says softly, his lips turning up into a small smile that’s both soft and a little sad, “come on then, maybe we can still get a few hours in before sunrise.”

Jon swallows hard. The panic sits there in his chest, silent and waiting. “Okay,” He chokes out, “alright, let me just--” He gets up and takes the blanket with him, just to have something to do with his hands and follows Martin into the bedroom.

It’s just as cold in here as the rest of the house, but the way Jon’s fingers are trembling has nothing to do with the cold. He picks the side closer to the window, if only so he has something to stare at when he can’t sleep. Martin curls up next to him. The bed is so much smaller than his own back in London. Martin has to draw his legs up just to fit on the mattress, too tall and wide for the little bed. Jon fits just fine, but he’s a little worried about rolling off the mattress during the night. They’re perched precariously, sharing the same pillow, Martin’s warm breath at the back of Jon’s neck.

Eventually Martin sighs. “Here,” He says, shuffling a little behind Jon, “Can I--?” He hovers his hand over Jon’s waist.

It doesn’t-- it doesn’t mean anything. It’s just that the bed is too small for two grown men, despite one being below average height, and it’s cold besides. That doesn’t stop Jon’s heart from beating hard and loud in his chest though, as he slowly nods.

Martin’s hands are large and strong and lovely. Jon’s breath catches when Martin’s arm curls around his waist and he’s pulled back against Martin’s chest. He can feel Martin’s heart beating against his back, thudding almost as loud and hard as his own. Martin’s fingers settle over his stomach, splaying out. Jon thinks his hand could almost cover it completely and it sets off another round of shivering in him that has nothing at all to do with the cold.

“Alright?” Martin whispers.

“Yes.”

“You’re shaking.”

“I’m-- it’s cold, Martin.”

Martin hums thoughtfully and lets go of Jon for just a moment, long enough to pull the duvet up higher around them before settling his hand back against Jon’s stomach. Jon curls his own hands in front of his face and grabs the blanket so hard his knuckles ache.

“Night, Jon.”

“Good night, Martin.”

Jon is sure there’s no way he could fall asleep like that, pressed so close to Martin that he can feel the warmth of him all along his body, but eventually he does.

[READ THE REST ON AO3]

#fic #my fic #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonmartin #these are the ways that i love you

[erosofthepen]

Letters From Amad pt.2

After about five months of not knowing how to continue it, i have finished part 2!! There will be a third part, not nearly as long, and i already have most of it written, so it should be out a lot sooner lol. BUT, i hope you enjoy it, and thanks for putting up with me lol.

-Part 1

-Words: 4,898

-Warnings: blizzard/storm, injury, hypothermia, some swearing

-Tags: @grunid, @elvish-sky, @sassyscribbler, @whore4fictionalhoes11, @smaugs-guardian, @bitter-sweet-farmgirl, @jotink78, @marvel-ous-hobbit, @anjhope1, (if i forgot you, im sorry, i have trouble keeping track sometimes)

It was moments like this that reflected Thorin’s terrible decision making. In actuality, his decision to not put anymore lives at risk was very wise. But still, it was Fili who was out there. And Kili. And since Thorin would not send a search party out, it was time to take matters into your own hands.

First things first, you went back to your chambers and put on your warmest, fluffiest, most wind-resistant coat. Rabbit fur covered the insides (the hides were hunted and tanned by Fili, a courting gift to you), and thick leather made up the outside, keeping the cold out and the warmth in. Next, you pulled on your winter boots (you had actually just had them made last week, and there were three little pockets perfect for concealing knives in), as well as a hat, gloves, and a scarf, all knitted by Ori, his way to show gratitude after your help in the libraries. You then proceeded to gather up some salted meat and cram, walk down to the entrance of the mountain, and enter the stables.

You choose a faithful companion to keep you company, namely, Daisy. The Mare had a thick wooly mane, and an extreme proclivity towards sweets. This was not to be your first venture with the pony, and now you knew better to bring him anywhere within five leagues of a bakery. You had not been amused when he had eaten an entire box of pastries meant for you and the scholars, though Kili and Fili had thought it to be the most hilarious of stories. However, despite his tendency to devour pastries, Daisy was reliable and resilient, and you hardly rode any other steed.

Several stableboys tried to dissuade you from leaving in the storm, but you brushed off their remarks as you tacked up Daisy. Thankfully, they didn’t try to block your path as you left, though they did warn you to be careful. You weren’t too concerned, for the storm had grown tamer in the day, and the frost was not biting your face. Yet, that is.

You reached Dale in about an hour. It took much longer than expected, with Daisy being nearly up to his belly in the fallen snow. Dale was practically devoid of men and women, most of them having the brains to stay inside during the storm. The only exceptions were some watchmen and one or two passersby.

“Oi, it’s a bit too cold for a morning ride lady, have you lost all sense?” A guard asked as you were leaving the gate on the other side of town.

“No my good fellow, I'm just looking for my friends. Have you seen two dwarrow come this way?”

“Can’t say that I have, but Maurice said he saw a pair last night, a few hours before the snow started.”

“Did Maurice mention where they were headed?”

“To the caravan, where else? It’s about fifteen miles from here, I would guess. You’re not considering going out there, are you?”

“I’m afraid that I must. Good day to you sir,”

“And a very cold day to you, lassie. Best of travels.”

“And to you as well.”

You quickly left and mentally cursed yourself for wishing him best of travels in return. He wasn’t traveling, you idiot!

The embarrassment faded as the wind began to pick up. The blizzard was steadily getting thicker, the puffy snowflakes turning more compact and icy. The city of Dale had long disappeared behind you in the snow, and you could only hope you were headed in the right direction.

However adventurous and bold it sounds, riding bare-back on a pony in the middle of a freezing cold snow storm was not at all an easy task. Your scarf had been moved to cover most of your face, and your hood was tied tightly ‘round your head, yet the flakes still stung your flesh. You were definitely starting to rethink your whole “making sure the brothers were alright in a storm idea.” Especially since it was pointless to look for them in between the caravan and Dale, as you couldn’t even see ten feet in front of you. Your goal now was to simply make it to the caravan without frostbite.

Around noon, you tried eating a bit of the bread you had packed, only to find it frozen. As well as the cheese. And the dried meat. It wouldn’t do good to gnaw on it either, as that would just make your innards cold as well, so you just went with your stomach protesting.

It was starting to get quite dark when you finally saw what seemed to be a glow in the distance. As you drew closer, it grew apparent that it was the caravan, and you sighed in great relief.

The dwarrow on watch were very suspicious. Of course, once you explained your purpose, they grew less so.

“I come from Erebor, in search of the Princes. Prince Fili and Kili left last night with the intention to travel here, have they arrived?”

The guards started to look a bit nervous.

“No my lady, no one’s seen anything of them.”

Your heart dropped to your feet.

“Are you sure?”

“Aye, the whole group would have known.”

You might’ve cried, but your eyes felt nearly frozen. You turned your pony, with full intent to head back out into the blizzard and look for your love, when one of the watchdwarrow stopped you.

“You’ll freeze out there my lady, as will your pony. Stay and get warm.”

“Aye lass” another said, “Besides, if the Prince’s are out there, her Lady Dís should be informed.”

Ah, that’s right. Dís.

One of the guards led Daisy off to get warm with other animals, while the other led you to Her Ladyship’s tent. He announced your presence, awaited approval, and then lifted the flap of the tent, beckoning you inside before letting it fall behind you.

Dís was a truly stunning Dwarrow, even for her age, with long black raven hair and a beard to match. Some strands were turning silver, much like Thorin’s, and her blue eyes were more piercing than an orc’s. She looked incredibly confused when you walked into her tent.

“Good Mahal lass, what the hell were you doing out in that storm? You must be senseless.” She said, looking up from a book she had been reading and furrowing her brows.

“I was looking for the Prince’s. I should introduce myself, my name is (Y/N).”

Dís’s eyes widened and she stood, showing off quite an impressive height.

“Why would you be looking for my sons out in this storm, (Y/N)?”

“They… Fili left a note this morning, he and Kili were coming to the caravan to see you. The watchdwarrow said they hadn’t arrived.”

The Dwarrowdams jaw went slack for a moment, and then she cursed, banging her hand on a small table that held a bottle of whiskey.

“Foolish boys! Have they no sense? I was to be seeing them in only a few more days, but they could not wait, could they? Och, the beasts!” Dís continued her rant for a while longer, before she turned her gaze back on you.

“And you journeyed out here in the storm?”

“Aye. I could not rest well knowing that they were out in this foul weather. I will be going to head back out to look for them as soon as I’ve warmed up a bit,” you replied, very conscious of the Mother’s piercing stare. She was quiet, until she breathed a worried sigh.

“It’s no use to search out in this weather, lass. Especially at night. Rest here with me, we’ll go searching first thing on the morrow. I must talk with the guards for now, make yourself comfortable, I will return soon.”

And, just like that, Dís left the tent. Her talk was brief, and left you standing dumb in the center of the tent. For some time, you debated on whether or not to go out searching anyways, but the fire was surely inviting, and something in you knew Dís wouldn’t take kindly to you leaving against her wishes.

Your travel bag, heavy and frozen from being exposed to the elements for so long, left your shoulders as you set it down by the entrance. Next came your gloves, and then the outer coat, snow and ice caked on it making your fingers fumble whilst trying to unbutton it. Eventually, it joined your bag, as well as your boots (if you had thought the coat was difficult to get off, the frozen buckles on your boots were torture). After you had stripped the burdensome clothing off, you simply stood in the center of the room, close to the fire. There were blankets nearby, piled near a bedroll, but you dared not touch them, seeing as they belonged to Dís. It was rather awkward, simply sitting in a stranger's (of sorts) quarters, and weren’t sure what to do.

Your eyes did some exploring for you, falling first on the book that Dís had been reading. ‘The Heart of Hrund’. Huh. You recognized the title, from the Great Library, but you knew very little about it. You’d have to read it now. Your eyes then fell to the whiskey bottle. ‘Breaker’s’. Ah. Memories you shared with Kili at the beginning of the journey returned, however hazed they were due to your drunken state. Strong stuff, Breaker’s was. Bofur managed to get his hands on a few bottles from a merchant, and you and Kili had stolen one from him, much to Thorin’s disappointment and Fili’s annoyance (he was upset to be left out of the fun). Your eyes then drifted to a leather-fitted box, beautiful khuzdul runes and designs etched into it, however, before you could get a closer look, footsteps crunched through the snow outside the tent.

Dís and a young dwarrow entered, carrying stew, bread, and a plethora of blankets and pillows.

“Mahal,” Dís started, placing the tray of food down on the little table and grabbing a quilt from the other dwarrow, “Have you just been sitting here freezing? You could have taken a blanket, you know.” She said, wrapping the quilt around your shoulders and moving you to sit down.

“I, er, I didn't want to be rude.” You replied, now sitting cross-legged on the floor. Dís screwed her face at you.

“Lass, it is never considered rude to take a blanket in the cold. Only exception is if someone is already using it.”

You didn’t reply, feeling very uncomfortable social-wise, despite finally starting to warm up physically. Dís grabbed the rest of the supplies from the other dwarrow and nodded at him to leave. As he left the tent, Dís set the other blankets down and started making a bedspace for you near the fire.

“I can help with that,” you said, starting to get up to help.

“Nonsense lass, you get yourself warm.” Dis stood and grabbed the food tray once more. “However, I do request that you eat.” she set the tray down in front of you, and you thanked her, feeling a bit guilty as you started on the stew.

“Uh, have you eaten yet, My Lady?”

Dís scoffed, resuming her work on your bed roll. “Don’t call me that child, call me Amad. I can hardly stand to be addressed in that way by servants, let alone my sons One. But yes, I’ve had my fill.”

Her words shocked you, having only ever heard Fili refer to you as his One. You hardly expected Dís to accept you as Fili’s lover, let alone his One.

“Alright.” You replied, once more feeling dumb and without anything to contribute. So you sat in silence, trying hard not to slurp and watching Dís make up your bed. Eventually, She moved up and away, surveying her work.

“Thank you, that was very kind.” you said. Dís sighed and nodded, sitting down on the other side of the fire. You were quiet once more, and were now re-considering going out to search for Fili and Kili, if only to avoid the discomfort of the situation.

“I hope you are only not talking because of the storm. I expected a much more chatty lass, if i’m being honest.” Dís remarked, eyeing you carefully.

Panic flashed through your eyes as you tried to think of something to say, but Dís let out a soft chuckle before you could make a fool of yourself.

“I’m only joking, child. You needn't be nervous here. Tell me, how was your journey from the mountain to here?”

“Cold,” You blurted out, shuddering as you imagined the wind biting your face. Dís smiled at your bluntness.

“Indeed, I imagine it would be, especially if you’ve been out all day. Tell me, was there any sign of them as you came over?”

You shook your head. “Unfortunately no, I could hardly see past my nose once the snow grew thicker.”

“I swear, those boys will be the death of me,” she muttered.

“Just be glad you weren’t Thorin trying to deal with all three of us,” you said without thinking. Dís locked eyes with you, and then started chuckling.

“I do not envy him, based on what I've read of you three. It seems that you made it your entire purpose to create trouble for my brother dear.”

“Well, we tried to. For the first half of the journey, at least. He was much more willing to withstand our meddling before we crossed the Misty Mountains. Then came the orcs, and goblins, and Mirkwood, Laketown, the dragon… and the battle too.” Your face had fallen whilst you spoke, and Dis reached out her hand to comfort you.

“You mustn't dwell on the hardships of the past, child. It does nothing but cause trouble for the mind. Believe me, I know.”

At that moment, Dís seemed to age very quickly, and the wisdom and experience that this dwarrowdam had became clearer. You knew her story well-enough, from nights Fili had needed to find comfort in you, telling you about his childhood and family. Dís had wed Víli Heptifilissøn, and twelve years after Kili had been born, he had fallen ill from the Black Lung*, and had spent months growing weaker and weaker until he perished. Fili was able to remember the wretched coughing, and his Adad’s ragged breaths, as clearly as the day it happened. It was the reason he refused to go deep into coal mines, or else made up excuses. If those memories still hung onto Fili, you could only imagine how horrible it must have been for Dís, who had to watch her husband suffer such a death. Looking at her now, you never felt more in awe of a single person.

“You speak truly, my Lady-”

She looked at you sharply, but with a twinkle in her eyes.

“-I mean, Amad.”

That satisfied her, and she relaxed her hand away. “I do indeed, child. Never has a lie crossed my lips. Except when I told Thorin that he had a mighty spider in his beard.” You chuckled at that, but it quickly turned to a yawn. Dís raised a brow.

“It’s time for sleep then,” she commented, “I’ll leave you in peace to finish eating, and then it’s straight to bed.” Dís stood and went back to her chair, and resumed her book, leaving you to scoop that last of the stew in your mouth. It was not long before you were warm and cozy in your makeshift bed, and Dís bid you goodnight before blowing out the lanterns.

You woke to shouting. In your groggy state, you couldn’t make out the words, and you blinked in the dim light of the fire.

“What new madness arises?” You heard Dís murmur, followed by the sounds of her fumbling about. The shouting grew nearer. “Are you awake, (Y/N)?”

“Only partly,” you replied, trying to untangle the covers from your legs. You shuddered as the extra warmth left, but hurried to your feet, only stumbling slightly. The noise was becoming considerably louder, and your ears could start to make out the words being yelled.

“Get a healer, lads!”

“He looks frozen stiff!”

“SHOVE OFF! WHERE IS AMAD?” Kili’s furious shout snapped you into alertness. At that moment, Dís was able to find a lantern, and finally the tent’s interior was more visible. The flap in front of the tent lifted, and Kili stumbled in, hair frozen with bits of ice and face bright red. With horror, you realized he was supporting another dwarf who was barely conscious. Fili.

You jumped to your feet and rushed towards your betrothed, supporting his other side and lifting his head. Fili’s lips were tinged blue, and his teeth were chattering bitterly, clacking together in a terrible rhythm. Dís was there not a second after you, and she helped guide you all to lay Fili down in the space you had slept just moments before.

“Strip him down,” Dís commanded, starting to work on his boots. You followed her orders without hesitation, helping Kili with Fee’s coat. It didn’t take too long for the three of you to undress him to his underclothes, and you winced when you saw his shoulder looked… definitely not normal. Dís pressed on it gently, and Fili made a weak groan that twisted at your heart.

“He fell off his pony,” Kili said.

“Of course he did. Kili, fetch a healer.” The younger prince sprang up, filled with energy even after being out in a blizzard for nearly an entire day. But he was hardly at the entrance when a grizzled old dwarrow entered, a satchel in hand and a hard look set in his features.

‘‘Hanarr,” Dís welcomed, nodding her head. The old dwarf grunted in acknowledgement before kneeling down by Fili’s shoulder, feeling along the bone. He grunted once more, before looking up at Kili.

“Hold down right here lad,” Hanarr instructed, moving Kili’s hands to rest on Fili’s other shoulder and chest. “Right, hold it firm.”

Hanarr outstretched Fili’s other arm, and began to move it towards his head. A click sounded, and Fili called out, however weakly. His shoulder looked back to normal again, and Hanarr quickly folded his arm against his chest, before searching through his medical pack and pulling out a sling.

“Sit him up, lad.” the healer instructed Kili. He propped Fili up against his side, and this time, Fili held his own head up, his gaze landing on you. Confusion flitted across his nearly-frostbitten features, and he mumbled your name despite of his state.

But Hanarr was upon him again, and soon the sling was fastened to his arm, and the Healer was moving his legs so that they were tucked against his chest. He addressed Kili once more, “Get rid of yer tunic, and stay close to yer brother” and then turned towards you, “do the same, but mind his shoulder lassie.” Without hesitation, you followed his command and soon Fili was sandwiched between yourself and Kili. Dís (with the permission of Hanarr), wrapped several blankets around the three of you, and soon set to work on making some tea. Hanarr presented her with a root of ginger, and, after seeing that all that could be done was done, decided to take his leave.

“He should be fine in a few hours, I'll come back to check on him soon. Keep him awake.” were his final words before departing.

The silence that followed his departure was intense, interrupted only by the sound of the fire, the kettle, and a knife. Dís was the first to speak.

“I would have your hides, if I was not so glad to see you again.” She said in a low voice as she shredded the ginger.

“I’m sorry Amad,” Kili said, eyeing the movement of his Amad’s knife, “Patience has never been my strong suit.”  Beside you, Fili shifted and rested his forehead against your temple.

“Indeed not,” Dís replied, her voice heating like the water she was boiling, “How did you convince your brother to join you in this endeavor?” Fili moved again, this time nuzzling his face into your neck and hair, his nose startlingly cold.

“Who said it was my idea?” Kili argued. However, Dís turned her glare on him, and He flushed and murmured, “he wanted to see you too, it didn’t take much to convince him.”

“(Y/N)” Fili said, drawing the attention away from arguing. “ ‘m tired.” He let his head rest heavy against your shoulder, and you (reluctantly) moved him away.

“You must wait to sleep, Kidhuzel,” You said, bringing your hand up to brush his hair away from his face. He opened his eyes wider, in sheer betrayal. You could have smiled, knowing Fili’s tendency to become unreasonably cross when denied sleep, but instead you kissed his cheek.

“Your Amad is making tea for you, and when you drink it, you’ll warm right up.” The blond prince’s eyes dropped once more and he tried moving back to the crook of your neck, only to be refused a second time.

“ I’d prefer Ale,” He muttered bitterly. At this, you did allow yourself to smile.

“Not a chance. Your heart might stop.” He grumbled and detached his uninjured arm from Kili, taking your hand and squeezing it with what feeble strength that had returned to his veins.

“It won’ stop as long as you’re ‘ere.”

Kili snorted, but was silenced as Dís sent him another glare, and you laughed softly, shaking your head and squeezing his hand back.

“If it worked that way, then I would gladly give you the finest Ale, however, I do believe tea would be a better option.”

When the tea was ready, you helped Fili to drink it. At first, the prince had winced at the heat, but soon he drank it gladly, becoming more alive with each sip. You sensed Dís watching you and Fili carefully, but brushed it off, telling yourself she was only concerned for Fili, not observing how you interacted. A small part of you that wouldn’t be silenced said it was both. Soon the mug was empty, and it had apparently helped Fili along much more than you anticipated, and soon he had detached himself completely from his brother and was pulling you closer.

“Careful of your shoulder,” you reminded him.

“ ‘s fine.” He replied, pressing flush against you. His skin had already warmed, thus proving the hardiness and hot blood of dwarrow. Kili scooted away, seeing that he was no longer needed, readjusted the furs covering yourself and his brother, and pulled his tunic back on. Dís immediately walked over and threw another fur across his shoulders, and pulled him into a tight hug, which he returned just as tightly. You averted your eyes when Kili started to sniff and tremble.

“I missed you,” he said.

“And I as well, inùdoy” Mother and son stayed in once another’s embrace, until she drew away and made him drink his fill of ginger tea as well.

A half hour later, you were struggling to keep Fili’s eyes open, and Kili had already crashed on Dís’s bedroll. The dwarrowdam herself grew impatient for Hanarr’s return, and had gone out searching for him. She reentered the tent with him not ten minutes later, and Hanarr (as grumpy and irritable as he was, he was an excellent healer), inspected Fili. Truly, your prince was proof that dwarves were nothing more than portable furnaces, and his temperature was more or less back to normal. He still was a bit out of it, but it was nothing a good night’s sleep wouldn’t fix. Soon Hanarr declared that it was safe for Fili to sleep, and almost immediately, the blond sank into your bedroll and began to snore.

Diís left after Hanarr, telling you to rest and call her if need be. You didn’t question where she was going, and she did not share it with you.

However tired and exhausted you were, sleep would not come. You sat in front of the fire for hours, feeding it and stoking it, keeping your mind entertained with the images dancing in the flames.

You had just finished adding another log to the fire, when a hand lightly gripped your wrist.

“Ghivashel” Fili said faintly. Your head turned towards him, and you smiled despite all things; for while Fili’s face was still red, his hair undone, and his eyes bleary, he was alive and conscious.

“Khuzd allakhul” you scolded, bending down to lean your forehead against his, “What sort of prince are you, to go out in the snow and frighten your lover?” You kissed his lips softly before drawing away just enough to wait for his answer.

“A very foolish prince indeed,” He murmured, his hand on your wrist pulling you back towards him. “But what sort of lover are you, to worry so greatly and come after me in the snow?”

“A very devoted lover, who has half a mind to leave now that you’ve insulted my care of you.” Fili’s eyes widened and he summoned his strength to pull you down, nestled in his side.

“Forgive me, I was not thinking of insulting you, amrâlimê. I just don’t want to see you suffer for my sake. Menu Tessu.” He said, turning his head to press a kiss to your temple. The beads on his mustache braids still felt frozen, but his lips were warm. You smiled and took his hand, entwining your fingers together.

“All is forgiven. So long as you won’t do anything as stupid as that ever again.” you replied. Fili sighed and kissed the side of your mouth.

“I shall try my very hardest not to.”

“That isn’t very reassuring.”

“Then you must forgive me once more, for I cannot make such bold promises whilst Kili remains my brother.”

You both chuckled at this, before settling into comfortable silence. Slowly, your eyes began to drop, the crackling of the fire and the steady rhythm of Fili’s breath making it harder and harder to evade sleep. The fact that the lion prince had begun to rub circles into your shoulder with his thumb wasn’t helping. After the third time you startled yourself awake, Fili’s voice was near your ear.

“You can sleep now, Amralime. I won’t be going anywhere.”

His words were nothing short of a spell, and in less than a minute, your eyes closed and sleep overtook you, a comforting, dreamless sleep, the best kind.

When next you woke, indeed, Fili was still right next to you, awake, but only just. He was blinking the sleep away, and you suspected that his movements had been what had woken yourself. Cold winter light was shining through the tent flaps, cutting like a blade through the warm glow that filled the inside, and a conversation was taking place.

“We left in the wee hours, m’lady, just before dawn. You can imagine the state Thorin was in when he heard that the entire future of Erebor was out in the snow.” The voice of Dwalin more than successfully brought you to awakeness, and you sat up, looking around for the source of his voice.

“Indeed, I imagine he would be weathering the floors with pacing. I expect we’ll be leaving soon, no?” Now Dís spoke, and by this point, you and Fili had turned behind you to see the pair talking over mugs of mulled wine. Kili was also there, however, he was still dreaming on Dís’s previous sleeping roll, limbs sprawled out wide and mouth hung open almost comically.

“Aye, as soon as these three are dressed and ready.” Dwalin said, turning his gaze onto you and Fili, brow raised and the slightest of smiles on his warrior face. “What a lot of worry you and your brother had us in,” he continued, addressing Fili specifically, “I swear to Mahal, you’ve no idea what sort of panic you caused. Course, when yeh come back with your shoulder like that, everyone’ll be doting on yeh. ‘The poor heir who got caught in a blizzard trying to see his Amad’, not ‘the fucking idiot who didn’t have any patience and went out in the night despite knowing there was a storm brewin’.” But all while saying this, there was humor and relief in the warrior's voice, betraying how glad he felt that the boys were not frozen under three feet of ice and snow.

“Both versions are correct,” Fili pointed out, his voice still croaky from sleep.

“Aye, but only the first version will get told.” Dwalin replied, to which you laughed. He turned his focus to you now. “Don’t think you’re innocent lass, Thorin nearly had a heart-attack when we couldn’t find you. Both the heirs missin’ was bad enough, but the lady who’ll be adding to the heirs disappearing made it all worse.”

“Och, Dwalin, she had a noble cause to come out in the snow, you needn’t blame her for anything.” Dís said, coming to your aid.

“Was our cause not noble and justified?” Kili’s voice piped up. The Prince's eyes were hardly opened, but he was more than ready to defend himself from accusations.

“Not when you were to be seeing me in less than a week. If I was able to refrain myself from going out into a blizzard in the late hours, you should have been able to as well.” Dís retorted. A sour expression crossed Kili’s face, but he dared not argue with his Amad.

“Right then,” Dwalin said, “Get yourselves up an’ ready, we’ve not much daylight left to get back to Erebor.”

*Black Lung: Coal miner’s pneumonia. 

Kidhuzel: Gold of Gold

Inùdoy: Son

Ghivashel: Treasure of Treasures

Khuzd allakhul: Stupid Dwarf

Menu Tessu: You mean everything to me

(part three will be out soon)

#fili #fili x reader #letters from amad #letters from amad part 2 #the hobbit #kili #dís #thorin #dwalin #fili x y/n #dwarves #dwarrow #the hobbit fanfic #fili fanfic #fili fic #fluff #hurt/comfort #ish?? #tw storms #tw blizzards #tw injury #tw hypothermia

[fuckit-hero-of-trains]

Prompt: legend making some calming tea on a rainy day :)

this one was going to be short but like,,,,, I wanted him to be cozy vbnbrmrbrdsmearbsmea

It’s going to rain soon.

Legend knows this in his bones.

And yes. Unfortunately, he means that literally.

Legend knows it is going to rain in the tender swelling around his right wrist–the one he’s broken more times than he cares to remember– can feel it in the way tendons tighten with every twitch of his fingers. Knows in the way some of his scars feel tighter against his skin, like a wrong move will have him bursting their seams. Knows this in the slight tremor that's returned to his calf, in how each slow step from the bedroom to the kitchen is stilted and jittery. Slightly off.

But mostly, Legend knows it's going to rain in the familiar itch that starts in his scalp, crawls its way down the back of his neck, and scrapes along his spine as it branches out, tracking jagged lines across his entire back.

It's going to rain soon.

A quick glance out the kitchen window as he starts the kitchen fire and places the kettle on its hook above the flames only confirms it. The sky above is a dreary grey and the clouds look swollen, darker on the bottom than on top.

A bit further away, a thunder head, yellowed and tall, heads straight for them.

Legend sighs.

He had hoped to pick some apples today. A bit early in the season for that, he knows, but Legend always preferred using young apples when he made his sauces. The little ones often maintained their sour bite even when cooked down with cinnamon, sugar, and spices.

The beginnings of raindrops tapping at the kitchen window, however, tells him he won't be picking any apples today.

Oh well, he thinks, none too bothered as he pulls an old, chipped ceramic mug and a pot of honey from a shelf. The apples can wait one more day.

As he waits for his water to boil, Legend goes about re-setting up his living room for a lazy day in. Ravio, unfortunately, still has the annoying habit of busting in whenever the mood strikes him and turning Legend’s house back into a showroom. After about a year of their kind of passive aggressive tug-of-war over who gets control of the living space, Legend finally caved, figuring it was easier to just keep the stalls intact instead of having to clean them up everytime the dumbass rabbit decided he wanted to make a quick rupee.

Now, the only furniture Legend keeps in the room is a small but plush maroon armchair he usually stores in the corner behind Ravio’s makeshift checkout counter, out of any grubby customers' reach.

Careful not to irritate any old injuries, the veteran hero slowly pulls the velveteen chair from its corner, shoving a table full of knitted knick knacks out of the way as he does.  He gives the old thing a couple of sound slaps to rid it of any dust, before pushing it the rest of the way across the room to sit in front of the fireplace.

Thankfully, four dry logs already sit in the cobble stone alcove. Perfect. He won't have to trudge around back to get more. No. Instead, all Legend has to do is grab the old firerod sat by the side of the fireplace and with a flick of the wrist and a negligible amount of magic, a blaze fills the room with warmth, flickering orange light, and the welcome crackle and pop of burning wood.

Legend is just laying a blanket out in front of the fire to warm when the kettle begins to complain from the other room. In the few strides it takes to re-enter the kitchen, the complaints turn to a reedy, high pitched squeal.

The pink haired hero pulls the kettle from its hook and places it on the nearby counter, careful to place a thick, wollen coaster beaneathit, so as not to mark up the wood.

Legend’s already gotten enough lectures about ruining the counter top, really, Mr. Hero, I’m not sure this place’s resale price could go any lower!

Dumbass Rabbit.

There are really too many teas to choose from. This one for relaxation. That one for headaches. A third for sleep–which he's almost out of… he’ll have to add that to his list of things to get when he heads back to Kakariko– and another for digestion.

A wooden container at the end of the shelf catches Legends eye and when he pulls it down from the shelf, he can instantly tell it's not one of his. Or, at the very least, not one he had bought for himself.

If he had to guess, it's expensive. Not many teas come in boxes of dark, smooth lacquered wood. Opening it up and taking a sniff only confirms it. Its a spice heavy tea, complex and warm, leaving a comfortable heat in his lungs, all under cut by something bright and berry like.

It reminds him of Holodrum.

Very expensive then. Much too expensive for his tastes.

Legend probably takes too much pleasure from absolutely drowning the tea in too much milk and clover honey.

With his drink in hand, the veteran returns to the living room, scoops up his now toasty warm blanket and settles into his chair.

Outside, the light tapping has turned to a constant, beating rhythm. Wind clatters at the windows, pushing and pulling the rain in tides of softer harder softer harder. Legend can hear the beginnings of a low rumble rolling in from farther away.

But inside it is warm. The blanket soothes the jitter in his calf. The warmth of the mug cradled between his fingers eases some of the tension in his wrist. Another deep breath in fills Legends lungs with heat and his mind with memories of sun. A breath out and he relaxes more fully into the chair.

A song drifts into his mind as soft and natural as the tide at sunset and for once Legend lets it stay there, humming it softly as he stares into the red, twining fire.

He takes a sip from his mug, lets a small smile pull at his lips, and ignores the storm raging outside.

#sorry these are a bit late my family sprung a surprise camping trip on me #posting these when I have internet lol #let the boy relax!!!! #tbh im soft for legend being the king of self care #homie knows what's up #lu legend #linked universe #linkeduinverse #train writes

[s8ncake]

Satan x Reader, NSFW

My Secret Santa gift for a friend on my Obey Me Discord server! (please enjoy my first nsfw piece) 

word count: 4.4k

Summary: Satan is in heat, and you are determined to help him every step of the way.

Other relevant tags: Jealousy, biting

Note: Pronouns aren’t used, but the reader is afab

It starts with eyes following your every move. Satan staring at you isn’t exactly uncommon, but it’s never this intense. This… dark.

Is he okay?

It’s hard to tell. Because as much as you try to bridge the distance between you, he always ends up pulling away before you can get to close. Almost like he’s afraid.

But it’s never been this bad. Not enough for him to leave the room without even saying hello. You turn around to follow him before Lucifer grabs your shoulder.

His gaze is as stern as ever. “Leave him be. You’ll be in danger otherwise.”

Lucifer being cryptic and overbearing isn’t exactly new, but this warning still throws you for a loop. “What makes you say that?”

A pause. He seems to mull something over. “Satan is… different from the rest of us. Once every 200 years his other sins take root, and they threaten to overwhelm him.”

A pang of sympathy runs through you. Satan has spoken with you about his anger before, about how much he struggles to keep it all in check. From the moment he was born, he had to keep himself contained. Hidden away.

The word monster is never used, but it’s heavily implied. In the self loathing that drips off of his tongue, in the way he never does anything more than hold your hand. Satan is a man who has struggled to accept himself throughout his entire life.

It’s something you can relate to. Your problems are entirely different from his own of course, but existing is rough. And on the days that it’s at its worse, Satan is there. Whether it’s reading you a book or showing off some of the neighborhood cats, you are grateful to have him in your life.

So it’s only natural for you to want to make his life better in return. Just like the dozens of times that Satan has supported you… you are determined to do the same. Lucifer’s warning be damned.

Whatever Satan is going through, he shouldn’t have to go through it alone. Even if it’s just talking over the phone, even if the distance between the two of you can’t be breached, you make a promise to yourself, then and there.

No matter what, you are going to be there for him, every step of the way.

Lucifer continues, completely unaware of your plan. “Wrath is an interesting emotion, one that can cause everything else to burn brighter. He will get over this soon. But until then, it is best that you stay away. His self control is not infallible.”

His concern is noted, but also unneeded. Even though Satan is the Avatar of Wrath, you trust him. More than you’ve ever trusted anyone in your entire life. And the very self control that Lucifer claims to be imperfect is the reason why. Satan won’t hurt you. He can’t.

...Well, not in the ways that matter. There won’t be any broken bones or copious amounts of blood; of that you’re certain. Even if this plan goes downhill, you’ll live. Satan may be a demon, but he’s also your demon.

So you have nothing to lose.

You nod along to the rest of Lucifer’s lecture. And once the demon leaves, you head towards Satan’s room.

~~~~

He isn’t there. His bedroom. The common room. RAD’s library. For some reason the demon seems particularly elusive now that you want to find him. Figures.

Your stomach lets out a rumble, and with a heavy heart you realize you’ll have to end your search. For now at least. There’s no use looking for him on an empty stomach.

Thankfully the kitchen isn’t far. And your day is absolutely made once you spot the demon rummaging around in it. Satan is opening every cabinet imaginable and emptying it’s contents down his throat. You’ve never seen him this sloppy before. In a way, it’s kinda cute.

A giggle escapes your lips, and Satan immediately whips his body around. His face flushes once he spots you. The demon lets out an awkward cough as he hides an empty bag of chips behind his back. “Good morning.”

It’s late afternoon, not morning at all. But you still decide to humor him. “Good morning to you too. Did you sleep well?”

His face flushes brighter, and he begins to fidget. “Yes! Fine I mean, I slept fine. Sleeping was definitely something that I did.”

“I can tell.”

A pause. Satan’s face has only grown more red. Beads of sweat trickle down his neck. His expression looks pained, and you would give anything to wipe it away. “Are you okay.”

“No.”

His gaze drops to the floor. “I’m…”

He struggles for words, but you gently shush him with one of your fingers. The touch is light, barely even there, yet his entire body shudders all the same. “It’s okay. Lucifer’s already explained everything.”

Satan takes a deep breath, and the empty bag that he was holding falls to the floor. A part of him seems to give in, if only for a moment, as he rests his head on your shoulder. His nose brushes up against your neck.

He breathes in your scent, although you aren’t wearing any perfume. Perhaps it’s a demon thing. The action seems to soothe him, and eventually he collects himself.

Satan pulls away, his face now an impenetrable mask. “The closest equivalent is a heat.”

“You mean like what animals go through?”

Satan nods. “It's a lot like that, although for me things are a little more… complex.”

That’s right. Lucifer mentioned that his other sins take over. Clearly he was struggling with gluttony a moment ago, but pride, greed, envy, lust... It really must be overwhelming, to experience all of that at once. And while you can’t help with most of them; There is one sin on there that you can help him work his way through. One that, if you’re being completely honest, you feel around him quite often.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

The innuendo isn’t lost on him. His breath hitches, and he takes a tiny step back. “You can stay away from me.”

He says that, but he doesn’t try to move away from you when you step closer. His blushing cheeks, the dilated pupils of his eyes; it all gives him away.

“But that’s not what you want, is it?”

Satan scowls. “What I want isn’t important.”

“Of course it is. I know you’re worried but—“

You reach towards him, and he lightly bats your hand away. “Do you think you’re safe?”

A growl. His fist clenches. “You’re not. It’s barely set in, and even now I—“

The door is thrown open. A very familiar demon walks in the kitchen, one whose stomach lets out a rumbling growl. Beel greets the two of you, and immediately opens the refrigerator. It’s completely barren.

The demon frowns. Judging by the guilty look that’s formed on Satan’s face, it isn’t hard to figure out who the culprit is. His heat must have truly been getting to him, if he went and devoured all of Beel’s food as well. Although that’s still somewhat his fault, it’s not something he deserves to be punished over.

So you take a box out of your bag, one with a ribbon wrapped around it, and offer it to Beel with a grin. “I got these tarts from Madam Devian’s. You can have them if you want.”

Beel’s eyes light up. He opens the box, his gaze traveling over each and every tart before landing on your face. “We’ll share them.”

~~~~

When Beel first said that, you would never have pictured him feeding it to you. Yet here the two of you are, brushing your fingers against each other's mouth as you giggle and wipe away crumbs.

Satan didn’t join you, but he has yet to leave the room. Instead he simply stands there. Watching.

You turn towards him and wave a tart in the air. “Do you want any?”

His eyes narrow. “I’m not hungry.”

He says that, but you can feel the hunger in his gaze. It follows your frame, and grows when Beel hand-feeds you another tart. A glow, green and full of envy, is locked onto the two of you. The intensity, the beauty of it all, threatens to set you aflame.

You aren’t trying to make him mad of course. But you get the feeling that it would happen no matter what. Satan is more irritable now, and that becomes incredibly obvious as time goes on. It won’t be long before something sets him off.

Your thoughts are interrupted by one of Beel’s fingers brushing up against your lips. A gasp, soft and light, leaves your mouth. In the distance you can hear some sort of snarl. It sounds like an animal, one who’s just had their territory encroached upon.

Beel’s touch doesn’t linger. He quickly pulls away, and there’s a dollop of cream on his finger. The demon lets out a satisfied hum as he plops it into his mouth. “Thanks.”

As if he asked you for permission. Still, you can’t help but chuckle. “You’re welcome.”

More tarts flow between the two of you. There are more in this box then you thought, definitely too many to finish on your own. Beel presses another one to your lips, and laughs. “You’ve got some on your nose this time.”

And that, apparently, was the final straw.

Beel’s hand reaches out to touch you, but Satan is quicker. He growls and grabs Beel’s arm, his claws clinching into the fabric. For a split second, you could have sworn that his eyes started to glow even brighter. “I’ll get it.”

Beel frowns. “Satan—“

You place your hand over Satan’s, and the demon drops Beel’s arm in favor of holding onto you instead. Your fingers intertwine, but Satan’s glare doesn’t waver.

Still, you do your best to reassure Beel with a smile. “It’s fine.”

He doesn’t seem to believe you, not completely at least. Yet none of that matters. Satan is already determined to have every bit of your attention. “Look at me.”

It’s a command, and once your eyes meet everything stills. Satan’s breath hitches. A layer of tension blankets the room. He leans in, and for a brief moment you think he’s going to kiss you. But his lips never make contact.

A pause, and then you feel one of his fingers brush up against your nose. He steps back and plops the digit into his mouth. Something about the act seems… lewd. You automatically turn to Beel instead. “Are you okay?”

Beel nods. “I’m fine.”

His gaze travels over to Satan, who already seems to be staring at him with the intent to kill. It then lands on you. “I think you should stay with me tonight. It’d be safer.”

“Belphie already takes up enough room in your bed as is. Besides, I have a lock.” It’s not a lock you plan on using, but it does exist.

“That won’t deter him. It barely deters me.”

“What do you mean?”

Beel’s eyes widen, and then he lets out a flustered cough. “I still get nightmares sometimes, and having you near helps me feel better. ...I think it’s because you’re so sweet. You chase all of the bad dreams away.”

Your heart melts in response. It’s only natural to abandon Satan’s hand in favor of wrapping your arms around Beel, to assure him that everything’s going to be okay. He always goes out of his way to protect the people around him, but who is there to look out for him in return? “I can stay with you tonight if you want.”

Beel glances at his older brother before letting out a sigh. “No. I think I’ll be fine for now. Just call me if Satan starts bothering you.”

“I will. But I expect you to do the same if you have another nightmare.”

He grins. “I can do that. And thanks for the tarts.”

“Anytime!”

The moment Beel leaves the kitchen, Satan’s grip around your hand tightens. It doesn’t hurt, but the message is clear. You aren’t going anywhere.

His expression looks neutral. Measured. The mask is back on once more. “Before you leave, can you come with me? I believe you left one of your books in my room.”

It’s all a formality, but you nod your head. There is a small chance that Satan is telling the truth, although you highly doubt it. All of your textbooks and novels are safe in your room. It’s clearly a ploy to get the two of you alone. But that idea doesn’t bother you as much as it should. You trust him after all.

So you allow Satan to escort you to his bedroom, where the two of you will finally be alone.

~~~~

To your complete surprise, one of your books is actually there, although it’s one you had forgotten about. You lent him one of your favorite ages ago, when he had mentioned that he wanted to read more literature from the human world.

It’s a story you had read dozens of times, but it’s not one you read anymore. You no longer have the time, and even then you’ve grown so much since then. So perhaps it’s only natural to place the book back into Satan’s arms. “You can keep it.”

There’s something comforting about giving it to him. Although Satan has dozens of books, each and every one of them is looked after and held in perfect condition. He treats them with kindness, as if they were made from glass. In comparison to his strength, they probably are. Your book, one of your greatest treasures, will be loved under his care.

Satan’s eyes widen, and he gasps when your hands meet. His Adam’s apple bobs. A thank you leaves his lips, the gratitude rolling off of him in waves. He clutches it to his chest, and seems to breathe in its scent. Or maybe he’s smelling you again. Who knows?

After a second or two he perks up. “Allow me to give you one of mine in return. Anything from the second shelf to your right is free for you to take.”

You feel his eyes watch you as you wander off to look at the bookshelf in question. There’s one, a title that catches your eye. You reach up to grab it, and falter for a moment when you feel his gaze practically caress your ass.

This is fine. You take a deep breath in order to calm your racing heart, and grab a book from one of the top shelves. Once you flip through the pages, it becomes incredibly clear that you’ve grabbed a children’s book. Given the title, that’s not a surprise. The Cupcake Knight and the Fallen Kingdom.

The Knight is indeed a gigantic cupcake, one with big googly eyes and multiple limbs. The artwork is vivid and fun. You laugh as you turn another page, and notice that the fallen kingdom is nothing more than a gigantic wedding cake. “Beel would love this.”

Satan is by your side in an instant. He snarls, and smacks the book out of your hands. It falls to the floor unharmed and closed shut. The demon, needless to say, looks upset. “I didn’t realize you and Beel were so close.”

His flushing cheeks, the anger that has tensed his shoulders and made him look at you with nothing more than a glare; it all points to one thing.  He’s jealous.

You can’t help but roll your eyes. Satan has nothing to be jealous over. There is only one demon in the Devildom that’s stolen your heart, and that’s him. You love his brothers, that’s true. But you love Satan in an entirely different way.

One that has you comfortably chilling in his bedroom while he’s in heat, on the off chance that you might get railed. “I enjoy hanging out with him, but we’re just friends. You know that.”

Satan doesn’t seem to believe you. “Do I?”

He draws closer. You take several steps back, and are surprised to find yourself bumping into his bed. There’s nowhere to run. Satan has you trapped. The arousal begins to make your brain fog, especially once the distance between the two of you finally closes.

His nose sniffs at your neck.  “His stench is all over you. You were eating out of the palm of his hand. And from the way he was looking at you…”

He whispers the words against your throat. “You would have been eaten, then and there.”

He presses a kiss along your pulse. A shiver runs through your spine as his mouth travels down lower. “But the only one who will be eating you is me.”

A growl. “You’re mine.”

And then his teeth sink into the junction between your shoulder and neck. It’s painful, but not overwhelmingly so. The wound is incredibly shallow. A gasp falls from your lips, one that quickly morphs into a moan once he begins licking the tiny droplets of blood that’ve sprung forth. 

Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. The words are whispers against your skin, alongside the dozens of hickeys that he’s starting to pepper it with.

He’s desperate. You can tell from how he clings to you, and from the way his breath hitches when your hands glide over the tent in his pants. Satan growls, and then pushes you down on his bed.

He’s hovering over you now, face flushed and a ravenous gleam in his eye. Yet there’s something else there, a tiny pinprick of doubt that is all too familiar to you. He’s afraid. Whether it’s of his own feelings or it’s the possibility that he might hurt you, you can’t be sure. But even like this, Satan summons up one last desperate attempt to push you away “I need you to stop me. Tell me that I’m a monster, and that you want me to leave.”

That’s the last thing you want him to do

“Satan, I want you to fuck me.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath. Satan’s grip on you tightens.

You reach out, and caress his cheek. “I don’t want anyone else other than you.”

And with that last sentence, Satan finally breaks. Your lips meet in a passionate kiss, one that takes you by surprise. The demon already seems determined to explore every inch of you with his tongue. But you have absolutely no problem with that.

Your hands tangle themselves in his hair, and his tail wraps around your waist, tugging you closer together. One of his fangs nicks your lip, and the moment your blood hits his tongue, he moans.

“Fuck.” His voice sounds completely wrecked. Buttons fly everywhere. Your entire uniform is absolutely ruined. Yet you don’t care, especially when Satan’s mouth travels down lower, and he gently pushes your legs apart. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted you.”

You’re unable to smother a curse of your own once he starts mouthing the wet fabric of your underwear. Your hands make their way to his hair, and you tug at the strands once another wave of pleasure runs through you.

He eventually tugs at the barrier separating him from his goal, but it doesn’t budge. Before you can lift up your hips in order to help him, you hear a piece of elastic snap. Satan had bitten into one of the straps of your underwear, tearing it in half. The garment falls to the floor. With your cunt and your entire body now exposed before him, he gets to work.

Satan leaves a mark on your thigh before his lips brush up against your core. He lets out a pleased him once he tastes you, and dives right in.

He immediately focuses on your clit. His tongue moves around in random patterns, which has you moaning his name. The pleasure is almost too much to handle. You knew that you’d be experiencing it of course, but you didn’t expect Satan to be so focused on it. Especially given his current condition.

But the demon eats you out as if he can’t get enough. As you are the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted. Satan groans into you, and the vibrations from that act alone are enough to send you over the edge.

You tighten your hands in his hair, and cum. Satan laps up each and every drop. And when he pulls away, you see him lick his lips. “You taste even better then I imagined.”

He’s beautiful like this. With his inhibitions cast aside, and pupils dilated. But he would look even more breathtaking without any clothes.

His boa fell off a long time ago, and you pathetically paw at the ribbon on his chest. The knot is too complex, and only seems to tighten as you tug on it. You’ve never hated the damned thing more than you do now.

A frustrated whine spills from your lips, one that Satan quickly smothers with a kiss. There’s a rip, followed by the sound of something tearing, and Satan’s entire outfit lays in tatters across the floor.

It seems he did all of the work for you.

His fingers start to skim over his handiwork, before they poke and prod at your entrance. Several of them slide in, and you immediately moan. It didn’t take long for him to find the spot that he was looking for. He looks like the cat that got the cream (which he technically did, about a minute ago). His smug grin only grows wider when you begin to grind into his fingers. And then, he fucks you with them.

You gasp and claw at the sheets. The demon’s pace is ruthless, yet it isn’t enough. You want him. And while his fingers are nice… you’d rather be cumming around something else.

“Please, I need—“ It comes out as a whine, needy and high pitched. But Satan seems to listen to you. For a brief and horrible moment, you're empty. Your thighs and your pussy clench around nothing.

Thankfully you don’t have to finish your sentence from before. The two of you are on the same page. He lines up his cock, and then eases himself inside of you.

It’s slow, but he fills you up perfectly. As if he were made to do so. Another inch, and Satan groans into your shoulder. “Fuck. You’re perfect.”

Words fail you right now. The most you can do is dig your nails into his back. There’s no pain, only a sense of ease. As if you are two puzzle pieces finally sliding into place.

He bottoms out, and everything stills. Satan is big, but not overwhelmingly so. It’s enough to make you feel full, more full then you’ve ever felt in your entire life. 

His cock is everything you could have dreamed of, and more.

No toy, nothing you own, will ever be able to satisfy you like this. The ridges… the shape… You move, and feel every bit of him gently scrape against your walls. It’s too much. Your legs already feel weak.

You whine out his name, and he immediately takes the lead. His hands intertwine themselves with your own as he pins you to the bed. He thrusts his hips forward, and his cock brushes up against that spot from earlier. Pure pleasure. Pure euphoria. The bed frame shakes.

Everything about this is amazing. Perfect. And the words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them.

“I love you.”

Satan stills, and for a split second you worry that you’ve scared him off. But that doubt vanishes immediately with another thrust, this one harder than the last. 

You gasp. Your hands twitch in a desperate attempt to move them, to drag Satan’s body closer towards you, but he still has you restrained. He growls into your ear, “Again.”

The only thing that leaves your mouth is a garbled moan. Satan pulls back, and pushes himself into you once more. “Tell me that again.”

And you do. The words spill out of your mouth, over and over in a never ending loop. I love you.

Satan doesn’t respond, not with words at least. He can’t. The only thing he can produce is growls and moans, both of which send shivers down your spine. And there’s another noise, a low and rumbling sound that spills out of his throat. You’re able to put a name to it a second later. It’s a purr. Satan is purring. And it gets louder with each and every thrust. With each and every declaration of love that escapes your lips.

He cums, and his teeth sink into your shoulder. The wound isn’t deep, but the brief flicker of pain combined with the feeling of him filling you up is enough to make you climax as well.

And once you’ve come down from your high, you can feel Satan’s tongue lightly trace over the mark in question. 

A contented sigh escapes your lips. “I love you.”

The words are softer now, but it still has Satan blushing all the same. He buries his head into your chest. It’s muffled, quiet, but you can feel his response as he mumbles it against your skin. “I love you too.”

He’s still purring, and that sound grows louder when your hands tangle themselves in his hair. After a moment for two, you feel something hard poke your thigh. It isn’t difficult to figure out what it is. Apparently Satan isn’t quite done with you yet.

You laugh. “Still in heat, are you?”

He frowns, and then towers over you once more, his eyes blown with lust. The demon’s gaze travels across your body, along each and every mark that he’s made. There’s a smugness in the way his fingers begin to skim over them.

“Didn’t you know? My heat can last for weeks at a time. I’ll take care of you of course, but I hope you don’t have any plans coming up soon.”

His voice lowers. It’s more than just a sultry purr. It’s a promise, one that has you wet with anticipation. “You won’t be leaving this bed for a while.”

#obey me #omnsfw #minors dni #obey me satan #satan x reader #satan x mc #the reader is gender neutral #afab!reader #my writing!

[pokemonispain]

Workaholic-Aether/Albedo

Summary:  While completing an experiment in Dragonspine Albedo falls sick, leaving it up to Aether to care for him.

_______________________________________________________________

Surprisingly Albedo is no stranger to illness, despite his unique biological circumstances. Whether it be from one of his experiments or because Klee, like most children her age, tended to put their hands on everything without regard for cleanliness.

So when Albedo wakes up in his temporary camp in Dragonspine more tired than he was when he went to bed, with his joints aching as well as his stomach he just lays there for a few moments staring up at the stone roof.

Rolling over onto his side he carefully sits up sigh leaving his lips as the world sways for a moment. There is a haze in his mind making it incredibly hard to form a coherent thought, he slowly got to his feet glaring down at the ground when the motion made him stumble slightly and his stomach flip.

Despite moving as slowly as possible his body still felt heavy, and an almost creaking ache spread through his knees as he walked across his lab, his blanket still wrapped around his shoulders.

He stopped in front of one of the multitiered wooden shelves, reaching up while standing on his tiptoes until he was able to grasp the small tin box he was looking for. It was a box of mint tea to help calm the churning and aching in his stomach as well as soothe his fried nerves so that he could focus.

Thankfully there was enough for one cup of tea, if Albedo wanted more he’d have to leave the camp to pick some. Normally this would’ve been a simple task considering mint grew just about everywhere in Dragonspine, but at the moment, to Albedo this task seemed as gargantuan as trying to scale the very mountain itself.

As he sipped on the tea he could feel the haze in his mind disperse slightly, although it wasn’t still up to its usual speed. His stomach still ached but at least he couldn’t feel it churning inside him anymore. But for now, it was good enough, at least he could get dressed without worrying about either passing out or throwing up, which was a win in his book.

Some part of Albedo, the more clinical and logical part of him, knew that he should probably take some medicine and just go back to sleep. But the more emotional and stubborn side of him, felt like he needed to finish this experiment. That one day of lost progress meant that he was falling behind, and falling behind meant failure which was something he couldn’t allow to happen.

And so even with his head pounding and the world seemingly swaying beneath his feet, he swallowed back the bile burning in the back of his throat, quickly took some medicine, and got to work.

~~~

Albedo stopped for a moment steadying himself on his workbench as he stumbled and for a moment the world began a smear of colors around him that haze in his mind coming back in full force. He swallowed hard, feeling his stomach slosh as it tried to climb up his throat.

With a sigh, Albedo turned off the flame beneath the test tubes and closed the notebook in front of him. Walking over he picked up his sword from beside his bed, he doubted that he would need it but going anywhere in Dragonspine without it was just foolish.

He was going out to get more mint so that he could make more mint tea, and once he was focused enough he’d be able to complete his experiment then take a much-needed rest.

Albedo winced as he stepped outside, it was late morning nearly afternoon, and with clear skies, the sun was out in full force. Its usual light felt way too bright almost piercing to his eyes.

The sheer cold of Dragonspine’s climate hit him almost immediately, it was an awful piercing chill that seemed to start from within his body and work its way out. Clutching his chest for a moment Albedo squeezed his eyes shut, trying to breathe around the pain in his chest that seemed to be weighing down his lungs.

Taking a deep shuddering breath Albedo began walking, the sheer cold was reeking absolute hell on his already weakened body. He needed to gather the mint and return to camp quickly.

Albedo managed to find some rather quickly, thankfully because he felt absolutely awful. His entire body felt heavy and hot, stopping for a moment he leaned against one of the trees. Reaching up, he attempted to remove his jacket but stopped because somewhere within his mind, even with the haze clouding it he knew that it was a bad idea.

Pushing off from the tree he stumbled forward, stopping again when the world began to swirl into a smear of colors, bringing with it a wave of nausea and dizziness. He fell to his hands and knees retching, the mint tea he’d drank and medicine he’d taken earlier coming up as black spots filled his vision.

For a moment he just sat there hollow burps and hiccups leaving his mouth in between the dry heaving and gagging, his stomach still trying to turn itself inside out.

Albedo could feel his arms trembling beneath him from the strength of holding himself up, as the black spots in his vision grew. He felt himself fall into the snow-covered ground. He had just enough time to think that the cold snow pressing against his feverish skin felt amazing before his consciousness faded.

~~~

One thing Aether couldn’t get used to whenever he came to Dragonspine to visit Albedo was the sheer cold. Its violent chill seemed to cloak him invading every part of his body, and that said something considering he’d traveled to places much colder than Dragonspine during his travels with Lumine.

Although considering all the history behind Dragonspine, he wouldn’t be surprised if the cold was some malevolent force created by the corrupted dragon heart in the center of the mountain. Rather than a naturally cold climate.

He’d used a teleporter waypoint to transport himself to the teleporter waypoint located close to Albedo’s camp. Aether was forever grateful that these things existed, he had no clue how they worked but whenever he touched one it would transport him almost exactly where he wanted to go, or at least somewhere around the area.

Adjusting his scarf he made his way across the broken broken bridge, practically leaping across it as he always did. He makes his way down the snow and frost-covered pathway, having become familiar with the route long ago.

He stopped by to visit Albedo up here frequently, occasionally they’d spend the night together. There were rare times where both of them would have free time and meet up in Mondstadt for a date or to just spend time together.

Aether stopped walking as he came upon a familiar overlook that sat on the right side of the pathway. Previously a Ruin Grader had sat there, although it had been defeated for a while now, being one of the first Ruin Graders Aether had defeated during his initial trip to Dragonspine.

This time however what caught his attention was something glinting in the sunlight. Scowling he slowly walked over, as he got closer though he noticed a figure lying face down, partially covered by the snow.

It wasn’t rare for experienced adventures to come up here. Occasionally inexperienced ones would try exploring Dragonspine despite the adventurers guild forbidding it. Those cases typically didn’t end well.

Aether’s worry and panic turned into pure blood-chilling fear as he got closer to the figure.

“Albedo?” he whispered, dropping down beside the other boy.

He reached out but froze for a moment as though he was afraid to touch him. With a trembling hand he placed  two fingers to Albedo’s neck, an almost euphoric wave of relief washing over him when he felt the slow but steady thump of a pulse beneath his fingertips.

Aether bit his lip, carefully brushing some of the snow off of Albedo before picking him up and placing him in his lap. Albedo’s skin was warm and incredibly pale, his face pinched in pain a light red flush on his cheeks as his breath came out in weak shuddering pants.

“Albedo? Hey, wake up, ” Aether said, a panicked edge in his voice as he tapped Albedo’s cheek. However, he remained limp practically dead to the world around him.

Was he sick? Did he get injured somehow? Aether didn't see any blood, although when he glanced around he did notice that Albedo had been laying beside a half-frozen puddle of something that looked like vomit.

Albedo didn't respond when Aether shook him either.  A heavy feeling of dread weighed down his shoulders, no matter how long it had been since he’d arrived in Teyvat the memory of losing Lumine was still fresh in his mind.

Biting his lip Aether glanced back over his shoulder, Albedo’s camp in Dragonspine wasn’t that far from here. First thing first he needed to get Albedo warmed up and hopefully conscious. If Albedo’s body was still this warm despite the fact that he’d been exposed to the sheer cold this long, then he more than likely had a fever.

Aether stood up, shifting Albedo so that he had one arm slung around Aether’s neck, while he had an arm around Albedo’s waist holding him to his side. Thankfully he and Albedo were about the same height so it definitely made things easier.

Once he reached the entrance of Albedo’s lab, the other boy began to move slightly shifting against Aether’s side as he groaned.

Aether gave a sigh of relief, some of the dread that had been clinging to him like a second skin vanishing. “Thank the Archons,” he whispered. This was good, hopefully, Albedo was lucid enough to tell him what had happened.

Aether sat him down in the chair close to one of the lanterns on his workbench. Albedo groaned again, slumping forward slightly as his eyes slowly opened halfway.

“Albedo?” Aether said as he leaned forward a bit to look into Albedo’s face. From this angle, Aether could see that he was still pale, and the feverish blush still on his cheeks.“Hey, I’m right here. It’s Aether, can you hear me?”

Albedo’s glassy eyes slowly met his before he gave Aether a small stilted nod.

Aether chuckled softly as more relief seemed to wash away the dread. Albedo was awake and lucid enough to understand him at least, this was good.

“Did you take any medicine yet?” Aether asked, leaning back a bit so that he was standing normally.

While Albedo did typically take care of himself when sick or allowed Aether to, Albedo’s biggest problem was that it was hard to get him to stop working and rest even when sick. Short of literally tethering him to the bed that is.

“Yes,” Albedo said, his voice coming out raspy and tired.  He slowly rubbed a hand over his face as he stared at the ground with narrow eyes.

His throat felt sore and raw, his head was pounding and every small noise, even Aether’s normally soothing voice, seemed to grate on his ears aggravating his already fired nerves.

“What were you doing out there,” Aether asked, gently grabbing Albedo’s shoulder to steady him when he swayed slightly.

Albedo frowned, a look of confusion covering his face as he slowly blinked up at Aether. “Out where?”  Albedo grimaced his hand going to his stomach as a streak of pain ran across it.

“I found you passed out, outside. On that little cliff where the Ruin Grader used to be, close to your lab,” Aether told him. He sighed, crossing his arms, “You must’ve had a good reason to leave the lab in your condition.”

A quick glance around the lab told Aether that Albedo had already started working this morning, as usual, the liquid in the test tubes and the materials laid out on the workbench. But the fact that Albedo had his sword with him meant that he’d left for some reason, the boy never traveled in Dragonspine without it.

Albedo’s frown deepened, as he tried to break through the haze in his mind. What Aether was telling him sounded correct, and he did remember stopping in the middle of his experiment for something. “Mint,” he eventually muttered, one hand still rubbing his stomach.

“Mint?” Aether echoed eyes wide. “You left the lab, in your condition, to get mint?” He said slowly. He could feel his worry and fear turning into anger, what if he’d been a few minutes late when he came up here to visit Albedo? How long would he have been out there laying in the snow before he froze to death?

“Why did you go looking for mint? You could’ve waited until I came up to visit you, you know I always have some on me,” Aether told him, his tone growing harsh.

Albedo flinched, and Aether’s gaze instantly softened.

“I needed it to make tea, I’m sorry, ” Albedo told him softly.  He made a move to stand up but stopped when the world tilted sideways, his vision blurring as his stomach sloshed becoming unsettled by both his movement and the way the room was spinning.

“It's fine. Do you think you can make it to the teleporter waypoint?” Aether asked, placing a hand on Albedo’s shoulder to both steady him and stop him from trying to stand up again.

Albedo closed his eyes for a moment, swallowing hard. Despite the fact that he couldn’t see the world swaying before his eyes, he could almost feel it. He felt his stomach practically flip inside of him, and bile burned the back of his throat.

Aether’s eyes widened when Albedo lurched forward in his grip, with a harsh strangled sounding retch. Bile and saliva streamed from his mouth, splattering both of their clothes.

Shaking off his shock Aether hissed softly as he brushed Albedo’s hair out of his face. Even through his gloves, Aether could tell Albedo had a fever, his fingers brushing across Albedo’s forehead as he tucked the ash-blonde strands behind his ears.

“I guess that’s a no,” Aether muttered trying to keep his tone light. “Let me guess you took medicine earlier but that came up while you were outside?”

Albedo gave a small nod, a gurgling burp had him bringing up more bile. It was hot, feeling as though it was searing his already aching throat as the bitter and sour taste coated his tongue only making his nausea worse. Tears filled his eyes from the exertion.

Eventually, though his vomiting tapered off into dry heaving and he just sat there trying to get his bearings. His arms wrapped around his stomach, his body jolting slightly as hiccups left his mouth.

He desperately wanted to remove his coat, it made him feel as though his body was burning but at the same time, the thought of moving right now made him feel nauseous.

Aether sighed. “Okay, I’ll make you some mint tea and then we can try the medicine again. If that stays down then I’ll make you some broth,” he told him.

Albedo gave a soft hum. “The teapot is on the shelf,” he whispered.

Aether nodded, stepping away from Albedo, once he was sure that he wouldn’t fall out of the chair or try to stand up again he walked over to the shelf in question.

Albedo slowly blinked his eyes roving around his lab for a moment, before they landed on his closed notebook sitting on his workbench. That was right, he still had to finish his experiment.

Carefully shrugging out of his jacket Albedo shakily got up. When Aether had finally grabbed the teapot he turned back around to see Albedo standing in front of his workbench, his jacket discarded in the chair he’d been sitting in moments before.

“Albedo, no,” Aether reprimanded him as he walked over to Albedo. Setting the teapot aside he grabbed his shoulder intent on guiding Albedo to the bed.

But Albedo didn’t budge as he glanced at Aether, complete awareness in his glassy eyes. “I will rest momentarily, I need to complete this first,” Albedo assured him, it was something he typically said whenever he was sick. As though that would appease Aether’s concerns.

“No. Because you say that and then I have to literally pick you up and bring you to bed when you nearly collapse,” Aether pointed out as he attempted to pull Albedo away.

Normally he would’ve just picked him up, considering that between the two of them Aether was the stronger one, but Albedo still looked nauseous and Aether really didn’t want to be responsible for setting his stomach off again.

So he tried a more diplomatic approach. “Besides we were supposed to spend the day together, remember?”

“That’s right,” Albedo muttered. Of course he remembered, it was the main reason Aether had traveled up Dragonspine today in the first place. “What would you like to do?” He asked with a slight smile, closing his notebook once more. He knew when he’d lost a battle.

Aether grinned, it was a look that never failed to give Albedo a sense of pride and happiness. He always found it so incredible how such a small gesture made him feel as though everything was right with the world. “Well, first we should probably change clothes. Then I’ll make you some mint tea and we can eat some soup before going to sleep,” Aether told him.

At his words, Albedo glanced down at his and Aether’s clothes only just now seeing the slight splattering of bile on them. “Oh...I see,” Albedo slowly muttered. He grimaced as he looked back at Aether. “I apologize about that.”

“It’s fine, they can always be washed after all. Besides we’re about the same size so I can just wear one of your spare outfits. You should also probably dry your hair too,” Aether said, giving Albedo’s hand a gentle squeeze.

Albedo allowed Aether to guide him to the bed. Once he’d sat down, Aether stopped for a moment leaning down a bit to press their foreheads together, his thumb brushing over the star-shaped birthmark on Albedo’s throat causing a slight shiver to run up Albedo’s spine. Aether gave a soft hum as he drew back with a scowl and worry in his eyes. ��Yeah, your fever’s still pretty high. Did you get sick because of an experiment or because of something else?”

As Aether spoke he grabbed a change of clothes for them both, handing Albedo his before going over to start preparing the tea.

As Albedo changed he watched Aether, it was something he always did. Simply admiring the small gestures and habits he had, the way Aether would tuck loose strands of his hair behind his ear, the way he hummed softly to himself as he worked. All of those actions were something Albedo found incredibly fascinating, no matter how many times he’d witness them.

“I believe I caught something a few days ago from Klee when I returned to Mondstadt. It would not be the first time, and despite educating her on how to properly wash her hands I doubt it will be the last,” Albedo told him as he climbed into bed.

It was a medium-sized cot, nothing particularly special although it did allow room for both Aether and himself to share it.

“Here you are,” Aether said as he carefully handed Albedo the cup of tea. He’d taken off his gloves laying them on the workbench.

Aether bit his lip as he watched Albedo for a moment. The other boy hesitantly brought the cup to his lips pausing for a moment, his eyes closing briefly when his stomach hitched slightly, still unsettled from earlier.

“If you can’t drink it, it’s okay. Don’t force yourself,” Aether told him gently, his eyes still full of worry.

Both of them knew that if Albedo had trouble keeping this down, then things were definitely not okay. In fact, it meant that Aether would have to take him back to Mondstadt immediately, even if he had to carry him to the nearest teleporter.

Albedo took a careful sip and when his body didn’t instantly reject it, both he and Aether gave a sigh of relief.

“Good. That’s good,” Aether muttered to himself with a smile. He handed Albedo the medicine and a cloth to dry his hair since it was still damp from the time he spent in the snow, then Aether changed his clothes and began fixing soup for them both.

“Did you leave Paimon in Mondstadt?” Albedo asked as he watched Aether. The little fairy girl was almost always by Aether’s side.

Aether shook his head. “No, I left her with Xiangling in Liyue like I usually do when we spend time together. Xiangling always lets her try new dishes.”

Albedo nodded as he finished drying his hair, tossing the towel off to the side. Eventually, Aether was done with the soup, carefully handing the wooden bowl to Albedo.

“You spoil me quite a bit,” Albedo said with a small smile.

Aether chuckled as he sat down on the bed beside him. “Why, because you’re actually eating every day now like you’re supposed to?”

“Who not to blame if you?” Albedo said as he took a bite of his soup. It was as delicious as always which was no surprise, Aether was a great cook. Albedo knew how to cook as well but it was more so that he could teach and take care of Klee.

Aether simply grinned at him and they lapsed into their comfortable silence as they ate.

Once they were done Aether took their bowls, setting them aside to wash in the morning before joining Albedo in bed once more. Allowing Albedo to pull him close, practically cuddling him.

Aether frowned his fingers brushing over the star on Albedo’s throat, both of them were tired despite it only being sunset. Although Albedo more so if the way he was fighting to stay awake was anything to go by. Aether continued gently running his fingers over the star on Albedo's throat, knowing that it was a sensitive spot.

The very first time Aether had touched it Albedo had practically moaned, it was coincidentally also the first time Aether had seen him embarrassed or flustered since it happened in public. Other times, if Albedo wasn’t feeling well and Aether touched the spot it created more of a soothing effect for him.

“It’s alright, I’m right here. And I’ll still be here when you wake up in the morning,” Aether gently reassured him.

Albedo had yet to admit it to him, but Aether knew, just by the look on his face whenever he spoke of his master, that waking up and finding that he’d been left alone or abandoned was one of Albedo’s biggest fears. And ever since he’d lost Lumine it was Aether’s as well.

When Albedo’s eyes finally slid closed Aether gave him a kiss on his forehead before drawing back a bit, snuggling into Albedo’s arms.

~~~

Albedo wakes up in the middle of the night, his stomach aching and his body feels way too hot. He carefully shifts out of Aether’s arms but that doesn’t do much.

His body is heavy and aching as he forces himself to move to crawl out of bed. His stomach is churning violently, a loud gurgling noise coming from it as waves of nausea crash over him. Albedo turned a half stumbled, half staggered, his way to the entrance of his lab, he made it about halfway before practically falling to his knees as the world seemed to pitch and shift beneath him. As his mouth starts rapidly filling with saliva he clamps a hand over his mouth and attempts to get to his feet once more.

His legs shake beneath him and his attempt fails, the sudden shift in movement only making his nausea worse.

Aether jolts awake as a loud guttural retching noise enters his ears. For a moment or two, he lays there slightly dazed and confused before realizing Albedo is no longer in bed beside him.

He frantically gets up his eyes scanning the lab before finding Albedo. Aether rushes over to him placing a hand on his back as Albedo retches again adding to the growing puddle of vomit in front of them.

“Okay, shit, okay just get it up it’s alright,” Aether said softly.

Albedo shook his head, gagging emptily over the mess before a loud belch brings up more of his stomach contents. Aether can’t do anything but rub his back and brush his hair out of his face while comforting him the best he can.

“Why didn’t you wake me up if you weren’t feeling well,” Aether asked once Albedo had stopped throwing up. The other boy is just coughing and hiccuping now as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I already ruined our day together, I didn’t want to burden you,” he whispered after a moment.

And Aether sighed, taking Albedo’s face in his hands. “Listen, you are not and have never been a burden to me or caused me any trouble. Especially not when you’re sick you can’t help that alright? If anything, trying to hide it like this only makes me worry worse.”

Albedo slowly nodded, glancing away.

“Good, I’ll grab our swords, and then we’ll take the nearest teleporter back to Mondstadt so that I can take you home. It’ll be a lot easier to take care of you there than up here in Dragonspine,” Aether told him, pressing a kiss to Albedo’s forehead.

He helped him to his feet before grabbing Albedo’s jacket and their weapons. Once they were ready, they set off. Aether could only hope that Albedo’s condition would begin to improve once they’d gotten back to Mondstadt.

#emetophilia #emeto fic #genshin impact #genshin sickfic #sickfic #my writing #Genshin emeto #genshin fanfic #aether x albedo #albedo genshin impact #aether genshin impact #mild hurt/comfort

[raelly-writing]

Comfort - Thancred/fWoL

Some indulgent post-5.5 Part 1 fluff.

Nudity and some very tired adults being a bit flirty, but nothing NSFW or smutty in of itself.

----

“Did you ask for this?”

“In so many words, I suppose,” Thancred chuckled. The dull thud of the door being shut behind them was followed by the soft clang of him setting down their gunblades in a stand by it.

The wooden tub standing in his room was large enough to comfortably fit an elezen - or two hyurs. Lazy swirls of steam rose from the water, carrying with it a soft herbal scent that was oddly soothing after such a long and hectic day in an arid climate. On top of a stool was a pile of towels already laid out along with soaps. Thancred’s hand pressed into the space at the small of her back between her cuirass and belts as he came to stand next to her. Letting her breath rush out in a slow exhale, she turned her head to look at him.

Though there was a faint smile playing on his lips, there was no denying the fatigue etched into the lines around his eyes, the effect magnified by the smears of dirt clinging to his skin. Not that it was unexpected - even with that brief rest he’d had, he and Urianger had gone from Garlemald nearly straight onto the battlefield in Paglth’an.

“Remind me to thank Tataru then,” she spoke softly. Merely raising her hand to brush her fingers along the back of his neck made her muscles scream in protest as every scrape and bruise from the day made themselves known loud and clear. Sweat and dust had matted his hair, and it was tempting to run her fingers through it and try to untangle some of the knots.

Rather than pulling at her, Thancred stepped closer to her side, his hand light as he let it slide to rest on her hip. Viana turned into his embrace, eager for the contact, and let her eyes fall shut as she rested her cheek against his hair. Gods, she was so tired. It was tempting to just find the nearest soft horizontal surface and lay down to hide in the oblivion of sleep for a few precious bells.

“I’ll make sure to accidentally misplace a box of her favourite sweets in her desk’s drawer,” Thancred murmured against her neck.

Viana huffed out a short, weary laugh and nodded slowly. “That sounds good.”

The turmoil in her chest settled ever so slightly under the comforting weight of his arms around her waist. After the chaos of the day, the stillness of the room settled like a comforting blanket around them. The relief to finally be alone together, with no need to keep up their professional distance in front of the others was palpable. They leaned into each other, like the other was the only thing still keeping them on their feet.

Thancred’s slow breaths tickled her skin, his arms tight around her like he didn’t want to let go anytime soon. Viana idly brushed her fingers through his hair, earning a pleased sigh from him as he buried his face against her neck. The immediate feeling that he’d missed her made warmth creep up over her cheeks while a small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

But it was hard to hold onto the momentary mirth. With her every breath, the scent of smoke and dry sand, blood, sweat and aether filled her nose, suffocating all but the faintest traces of his cologne that still managed to break through here and there. The bitter taste of helplessness that was all too familiar on her tongue, still lingered, her heart heavy knowing that there was nothing they could do to help Arenvald. A deep sigh made her shoulders slump further.

She hated this… the unknown, half expecting bad news to arrive at any moment, all while hoping for something good but not daring to think too much of it. She’d had enough of this feeling for a lifetime while they’d all been lying comatose in the infirmary, their souls on another world with no guarantee they’d be able to return.

Gods, Arenvald was still too young. Too hopeful...

“He’ll pull through,” Thancred said firmly, as though he knew where her thoughts were straying. “The lad’s strong. And too stubborn.”

Again, she nodded while making a low noise of acknowledgment at the back of her throat. “I hope so.”

He squeezed her waist, and they slowly untangled themselves from each other. “Come now,” he said with a quiet, comforting tone, “let’s get cleaned up.”

Taking a deep breath, she mustered a smile and leaned down to brush her lips to his. Despite what he said, Thancred quickly cupped the back of her head, holding her in place for a longer, firmer kiss that made her feel all the weeks he’d been away in Garlemald as keenly as a dragon smacking her into a rock wall. Thancred’s arm grew tighter around her waist, her heart fluttering in her chest as she all but melted into his embrace once more.

“There,” he murmured against her lips with a low, satisfied voice. “Missed that while in Garlemald.”

Laughing under her breath, Viana nuzzled her nose against his. “I missed you too,” she replied as she began to push his coat off his shoulders.

Thancred made a curious sound deep in his throat while standing still for her. “Oh, do tell, my dear” he drawled, his warm voice pitching down into a familiar rumble that had definitively haunted her dreams more than once while he’d been gone. Despite it, she could tell from the lack of its usual heat that it was more a jest than a serious suggestion - merely the comfort of familiar banter.

With a thoughtful hum, she pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll tell you,” she teased while stepping away from him, with his coat in her hands. “Later.”

Thancred’s low chuckle made her chest feel warm as he followed to where she could hang up his coat on a hook. Even with her armour in the way, there was something reassuring about the weight of his hand on the small of her back as he leaned against her. “I look forward to it,” he rumbled, but then reached up to begin easing her jacket off her shoulders.

Viana stood still and let him help her out of it, failing to bite back a wince at some of the twinges of sore muscles. “Thank you, love.”

“Hrrm, always do enjoy helping you out of your clothes,” he muse, but then instantly grunted and paused halfway to hanging up her jacket. “That sounded terrible.”

Viana laughed under her breath as she began removing one of her vambraces. “I think you’re excused of any lack of eloquence today.”

The weight of his hand returned to her hip, pulling her back around to face him. “Suppose we should save any strenuous activities for when we’re not so banged up,” he sighed while he busied himself with the clasps on her cuirass.

There was a thoughtful wrinkle between his brows, and she just barely resisted the urge to lean down and press a kiss to it. She had missed him, a lot, but as enjoyable as the thought was, the mere notion of anything but rest made her entire tense up in objection. No, all she wanted right now was to soak in a hot bath with him. Then have some food. Maybe a nap, if the time allowed it, before the inevitable discussions would begin of what the Scions should do next. “Probably best, yes.”

It was a relief to feel the pressure lighten around her body. The stiff leather sections had been pressing against and rubbing over what she was sure was large bruises and portions of skin still raw and sensitive from healing magic. While it was hardly the heaviest armour she’d worn, it was a relief nonetheless to be rid of the weight. Just as he eased it off her, a twinge of pain in her shoulder made her wince and tense up.

A concerned frown immediately darkened his features. “Does it still hurt?” he asked as he raised a hand to gently touch it.

Mustering a reassuring smile, Viana took her cuirass from his hand and set it aside. “It’s just a little stiff,” she replied, “Alphinaud said it’d probably be the case.”

“Hrrm… who knew fighting dragons in narrow canyons would lead to some scuffling,” he muttered. He began to undo the clasps on his own cuirass, but she firmly nudged away his hands.

“Here, let me,” she murmured.

He looked like he was about to object, but then he sighed with fond resignation and turned his attention to his vambraces instead. A comfortable silence settled over them as they continued helping each other out of their remaining gear, setting aside bags and potion satchels to be refilled later. They were both covered in dust and more than a few armour pieces seemed in need of repairs after too close calls with snapping jaws and sharp claws, or glancing blows from magitek arms, but for now, they just piled it all up in one place. They could deal with it later.

With a tired groan, Thancred finally tugged off his undershirt. Frowning, Viana brushed her fingers over the yellowed bruise still visible at his flank. Urianger’s magic had sped up the healing process to the point that it looked days old, but it was still large and nasty looking, with splotches of purple still visible.

“I’m fine,” he spoke up before she had a chance to voice her concern.

Viana glanced up to meet his gaze. “‘Looks worse than it is’, hm?”

Hells, fighting dragons in wide open areas was bad enough, but such large creatures had made the narrow ravines of Paglth’an seem even smaller. It had scared her half to death when a dragon had suddenly swung around to face attacks from somewhere else, and the wide arc of its tail had caught him off guard.

Thankfully it hadn’t been with full force, or he would have had more severe injuries to show for it.

Her glum thoughts were interrupted by Thancred leaning up to press a kiss to her jaw, his fingers already pleasantly distracting as they slipped under her shirt to dance up her sides. “Arms up, darling,” he hummed.

With a small, tired laugh she obeyed. “As you wish, ser.”

“Mmhm, I thought we agreed on saving that for later,” he chided while carefully pulling her shirt off, making sure not to jostle her bruised shoulder in the process.

“My apologies,” she chuckled, “couldn’t help it.”

Thancred gave her a crooked smile, but it faltered and turned more sombre as he gave her own bruises a critical onceover. Raising his hand, he let it gently rest over the worst one on her hip before pressing a lingering kiss to the slope of her neck. The simple gesture spoke volumes in of itself, and a comfortable affection warmed her chest as she brushed her fingers along the back of his neck and turned her head to press a kiss to his hair.

Bearing the brunt of their enemies’ ire was a burden they shared, but it did little to lessen the pain of seeing the other injured in any manner.

His hand skimmed over her waist, a small, careful tug urging her along towards the tub. They lingered together as they moved, exchanging small, brief kisses while they let their remaining clothes fall wherever they landed on the floor.

“Easy there,” Thancred murmured as he held her hand while she stepped into the tub.

Viana chuckled to mask the pleased noise threatening to rise from her throat - the water was just the right temperature, promising to soothe and relax every dull ache in her body. Mindful of her shoulder, she carefully settled down at one end of the tub. Thanks to the high edge, the water came up to her collarbones, fully enveloping her in the warmth. Immediately, it was like the last of her energy fled her body. Leaning back against the edge, her eyes fell shut as her breath rushed out in a sigh.

“Well, you sound quite pleased.”

Cracking open an eye, she gave Thancred an appreciative once over as he fished out a small canister from the water. The fire shards within clattered when he casually set it aside on the floor.

“Join me, and I’ll be even more so,” she replied with a little smile.

Thancred hummed and eyed her with an amused spark in his eyes. “I wasn’t planning on standing around in the nude.”

“Well, when you put it like that I suppose I wouldn’t complain about the view if you did,” she laughed and drew her legs close to her chest to give him room as he settled down on the other end, facing her.

A low, warm laugh rose from Thancred’s chest ebbed out in a satisfied sigh of his own as he leaned back. Viana watched fondly as his eyes drifted close and his entire body relaxed into the water with his deep exhale.

The muffled sounds of the bustle outside from Revenant’s Toll was a reassuring murmur in the background, but it did nothing to disrupt the comfortable silence that settled around them. Thancred’s chest rose with slow, even breaths, his head tilted slightly to the side. He must be more worn out than he’d let on.

Viana’s hand found his shin under the water and brushed her fingers up and down in an idle caress. “Tired?”

He blinked his eyes open and shot her a crooked smile. “Don’t worry, I’m not about to fall asleep on you,” he drawled.

She raised an eyebrow as an amused smile spread on her lips. “You say that now, love, but you seem quite fond of using me as your pillow,” she teased gently.

Leaning forward, he loosely grasped one of her ankles and pulled her foot back to him. “And I have very much missed doing so while away,” he replied with a dramatic sigh. “Most dreadful change of pace, having to sleep on the cold, hard ground while using my pack as a pillow once more. These old bones of mine can’t handle it anymore.”

Laughing, Viana started to respond, but his nimble fingers began to press into the arch and heel of her foot, and there was absolutely nothing she could do to bite back a deep groan at the sensation. “Oh Hells,” she breathed, eyelashes fluttering. before her eyes slid shut with a content hum

The comfortable silence was only broken by Thancred’s quiet chuckle. While being crammed into the tub together maybe wasn’t the most comfortable of places, with the warm water and long day at her back, and Thancred slowly soothing the dull aches, it felt like a real, tangible risk that she’d fall asleep right on the spot.

How long it was until he, with another firm swipe of his thumb up the length of her foot that coaxed a long groan from her, at last switched to her other foot, she didn't know.

“What was that? I didn’t quite hear you.”

Viana huffed out a laugh - she didn’t need to look at him to know there was a self satisfied tilt to his smile. For a moment, she struggled against the warm, haze that’d laid itself over her mind to find the energy to speak, but finally she murmured, “Didn’t know you knew how to do this.”

“Hmmhm, I am a man of many talents.”

“Can’t argue with that.” Leaning her arm on the edge of the tub, she rested her cheek against her hand and opened her eyes to regard him. It was nice to see him so relaxed and at ease.

“Glad it hasn’t escaped your notice,” he drawled with a wink.

In a fit of juvenile playfulness, she wiggled her toes at him. Thancred snorted and gave one a little tug, coaxing a squeak from her.

His smile was infectious, mirth dancing in his brown eyes. All at once, she felt keenly aware of how her heart and mind felt so much lighter in his presence compared to the weeks that had passed since he’d left for Garlemald. How strange that they’d spent years knowing each other, yet it was just now that being apart made it feel like she’s missing a part of herself. Or had that sensation always been there before his soul had been ripped away to the First, and she’d just been too damned stubborn to acknowledge how much she missed him whenever their duties sent them in different directions?

“What’s on your mind?”

His question stirred Viana from her thoughts. Carefully, she pulled her foot from his grip. Thancred paused, his searching, questioning look softening when she shuffled to her knees. Any other day, when her muscles didn’t scream in protest at the effort of her movements, the appreciative sweep of his gaze following the trickle of water down her body would have sent a familiar heat curling through her veins.

Instead, she leaned forward, weight braced on the hand that wouldn’t upset her injured shoulder, and caught his lips in a chaste, tender kiss.

“Viana-,” he whispered against her lips, before his wet hand curled over the back of her neck, fingers pressing gently against the back of her skull. His other hand gave her waist a small pull, and with some shifting about, she soon reclined with her back against his chest and his arms around her. Viana tilted her head back to meet him when he nuzzled her cheek, the faint rasp of his stubble tickling her skin, then trailed a few lingering kisses to the slope of her shoulder. “We should probably get washed up, hm?” he murmured into her ear.

They probably should. Food was bound to be ready for them soon, with others coming calling for them. But she had no wish to move - she’d missed his embrace too much. Viana covered one of his hands with her own and raised the other to touch his cheek, then turned her head to press a kiss to his jaw. “I think we can afford to linger for a little while longer.”

Thancred made a quiet sound of acknowledgement, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles in her skin. “Then let’s do so.”

#one day I'll figure out how to write endings :') #Thancred Waters #Thancred #thancred x wol #My writing

[cobaincreates]

as it is

warnings: saddy sad sad, secretly hope i hurt you with this

count: 3k+

pinterest for the pic let me know what ya thinkin

i made a playlist for this!

— — —

every part of you despised the country club. you hated the food, you hated the people, you hated the money. you refused to partake in anything the members organized. like hell you’d show up for cocktails and meaningless conversations with people you didn’t care to know. you hated the snobs, the businessmen with sticks up their asses, the housewives with no names other than their husbands’. and you most certainly hated, loathed, despised midsummers. the one time you had actually enjoyed yourself was with someone who seemed so far away now.

your father was practically forcing you to go tonight just so he’d have a date. you knew how much it meant to him, to show up in support of his recent divorce from your step-mother, a woman who was a nightmare walking. after moaning and groaning about not wanting to go the night prior, you finally realized that you had to for him. your dad was your best friend and someone you always leaned on and went to for anything. growing up without a mom, or that motherly figure, was difficult in its own but your father had done a great job. you came home every night, ate dinner with him, had conversations that either had you crying of laughter or even more love for him. he really was your best friend.

the past few months had been hard. not even because of your dad, you felt for him, but you had your own dramas to deal with. on top of being a full-time student off the island and working part-time in a small boutique, you had been fighting an internal battle. it came along with a heavy dark cloud and one that constantly followed you around. now, being back home for the summer, it felt even heavier and seemed even darker than before.

your dad’s breakup had gone fairly smooth, and without a lawsuit thankfully. yours on the other hand felt as though it were still happening. each day you could feel your heart breaking more and more, like the dying organ was spreading rot throughout your body, making your limbs numb and cold. sometimes you had to close your eyes to find the faint beating.

you knew something was going on between you and rafe only a few weeks prior to the initial decision. your gut was telling you something was wrong whenever you spoke with him, either on the phone or in person. his college was close to yours, but still so far. you knew he had a life without you in it and you fully understood that and respected it. but one day it felt as though he had put you way farther down on his list of priorities than he ever had before and it didn’t sit right. you tried to ignore the growing mass in your gut the more you saw him, noticing small things like his eyes flicking away or how his hand felt limp in yours. usually he held it so tight like he was afraid to let go. but then it turned into you not wanting to let go. you still didn’t want to.

you still didn’t understand why he did it or what you had done wrong. he never said that he wasn’t in love with you anymore. the only thing close to an answer you got was that he’d still be your friend. you would’ve understood completely if he had said that he wasn’t sure what he was feeling, you would’ve totally let him figure it out himself– given him some time to think.

before you started to date rafe, he had a habit of keeping himself closed off. you understood it the best you could with being a young adult and navigating your mind. it took a while for you to finally get his trust, to get a good look at the inside of his brain. now it felt as if you were back at square one, like you were trying to knock down the hard exterior all over again.

as you got ready for the night you couldn’t help reminiscing on last year’s midsummers. rafe had worn a new tux and slicked back his hair, his face adorned with a gleeful smile. you didn’t let him get too into his head at the small conversations with his father nor did you let him lose himself in the free booze. you made sure to hold him up as best you could and to sway him from anything that might trigger his inner demons. it was a beautiful night and you remembered how he looked at you, so adoringly like he was the luckiest guy in the world, when it had been you all along with the luck.

you looked between a golden necklace, a thin chain with the northern star attached, and a silver one your father had gifted you for a birthday one year. running your thumb over the golden star, you couldn’t help leaning toward wearing it.

“what’s this?” turning around, you held the white box in the palm of your hand. your curious eyes met rafe’s as he looked up at you from a book he was reading. his arm slowly moved from behind his head as he sat up.

“i wasn’t supposed to be around when you found that.” he said, closing the book, and smiling sheepishly.

you blushed and broke out into a grin as you moved to sit by him with the box. “you weren’t going to propose in person?”

“i’m not proposing,” he rolled his eyes.

you hummed with a teasing grin and pulled the top off the box. rafe moved his legs over the side of his bed, brushing against you. he clasped his hands together between his knees as he watched you open the second box. your shoulders relaxed as a breath came out of your mouth, seeing a golden necklace perfectly placed, shimmering.

“rafe, it’s so pretty.”

he smiled at your reaction. reaching over, he maneuvered the necklace out of the box and unclasped it. you discarded the box in your lap and moved your hair out of the way as rafe brought it around your neck, letting it rest delicately. his hand rubbed down your back once it was secure, pressing a soft kiss into the hollow between your shoulder and neck. you looked up into his handsome face, breathing in the air and filling up with all of the love for him.

you clasped the silver necklace and moved from the mirror without looking over yourself. your father was waiting for you by the door, he had been ready to go for ten minutes, but he didn’t bother shouting up the stairs to get you to hurry up. you thanked him silently for your coat and walked out the door.

it sort of made you queasy to know that some of your father’s money was contributing to the event. the awning covered in vines and vines of ivy made you grimace. you quickly dropped it as your dad put a hand on your upper back, posing next to you with a bright smile. you couldn’t help but wonder if he’d meet a new wife tonight. maybe he’d finally give ms. conelly the time of day after years of her pining over him. it was so disgustingly obvious when she came over, offering his favorite dessert of lemon bars as some sort of flirtation device. it worked since she was invited into the house every time and you spent at least an hour and a half rolling your eyes in your room at their laughter floating up the stairs. you used to imagine your stepmother diving across the kitchen island and yanking ms. conelly’s extensions out. there was also a fight when the overly friendly neighbor left.

it wasn’t long before you were stationed at the hor d'oeuvres table, watching your father laugh with some of his friends. they each wore the same boring suit, just in difference colors or slightly different styles. you held in a yawn. you wondered if you looked ridiculous in your dress. subconsciously, you looked down to assess if anything was out of place or if the fabric was too ruffled somewhere. you tugged at it a little then your hand fell easily to the necklace. you turned the pendant over and over between your fingers, watching as a waiter carried a tray toward a group of blonde, identical housewives. you analyzed their diamond necklaces with their matching diamond rings and diamond bracelets. did they ever get tired of it?

you felt a pinprick at the back of your neck once you saw him. the whir of chatter and clinking glasses muffled as you watched him come through the doors onto the porch. the pinprick sent a ripple of tremors up your neck, to the back of your skull. your hands fell to the table behind you, leaning against it to remind you that you were here. you were solid matter.

this year he wore a light gray suit. you liked it much better than the god-awful baby blue one. you kept it to yourself how much you despised it. he looked very handsome and it made you want to tear your heart from your chest and plant it at his feet.

he molded quietly into a group where his father was, joined by his sisters and stepmother. you let out a breath the best you could and yearned for him to look at you. he was facing in your direction but preoccupied with a family friend. all it would take was for him to just lift his eyes, to see you there in your dress, one he hadn’t seen ever. you wondered if you looked as good as he did. would he think so? would it change his mind?

this was ridiculous, you were just going to go over there. you had known his family for years, they loved you, they loved your dad. would your father bring you over with him when he greeted them? he was too busy now talking to a former client, holding a shiny glass of scotch. you didn’t want to wait for him to stop his conversation. it wouldn’t hurt to just go over to rafe and his family.

you stepped forward but your movements faltered pathetically. you stepped back to the table and turned around, staring down at a plate of speared shrimp with tiny parsley leaves over them like blankets. other people moved around you, probably giving you odd looks for blocking the way to the food. your eyes blurred, the waterworks coming fast. you pushed from the table, slightly jostling it, and walked quickly to the restroom.

once inside the safety of the empty bathroom, you curled into a ball with your forehead on your knees. you didn’t care about the dress or if you would crease it. all you could think about was rafe and how he wouldn’t even look at you.

your sniffles stopped once you heard the door open. you sat up and breathed, wiping your eyes and hoping you didn’t look as bad as you felt.

sarah was standing outside of the stall when you unlatched it. your shoulders dropped and you welcomed her tight embrace, wondering when the last time you hugged her was. she pulled you to sit down on the puffy ottoman in the middle of the restroom.

“crying over crab cakes, huh?” sarah nudged your side. you laughed at the inside joke as you stared down at your lap. “you look great. i love your dress.”

“i’m sure i do.” you snorted and reached up to wipe under your eyes. you brushed off the mascara flecks from your fingertips. “happy midsummer’s.”

sarah smiled sympathetically and you couldn’t help your eyes watering again at her face. “i’m sorry,” she said, grabbing ahold of your hand in your lap.

“it’s fine.” you waved her off, knowing she meant about the person she shared the same blood with. “i guess i just wasn’t ready to see him yet. is that stupid?”

“no.” sarah shook her head as she looked intently at you.

“does he even miss me?” you asked. “he won’t even look at me. he probably doesn’t care that i’m here right now.”

sarah reached up to brush a piece of hair behind your ear. she had always felt like a sister to you and you hoped she didn’t feel any differently now that you weren’t dating her brother.

“he said he wanted to be friends. he hasn’t even talked to me since we broke up.” you weren’t sure if sarah was just keeping quiet to let you talk or because she knew the answers to your questions. “i can’t stop thinking about him. god, it would be easier to be angry at him. i wish he came with someone else.”

“i’m sorry you broke up.” she said. you sniffed and gave her a sad smile.

sighing deeply, you sat up straight a second later. you partially felt better for getting a few things out to someone. you hadn’t really talked that much about the break up to anyone. your father was already dealing with enough and your friends were back in their own homes, miles and miles away. you felt like you sounded pathetic over the phone so you didn’t even bother.

sarah excused herself to use the bathroom and you waited for her. you washed your hands and wiped at your eyes, cleaning up the mascara that ran a little. nothing too major to give away that you had been crying. once sarah was out and had clean hands, she put her arm through yours and walked with you through the club then back outside.

sarah groaned once you got to the porch. “i have to go drag wheezie from the table. she’s always on her phone and if i don’t do it, my dad will be pissed. i’ll see you around?”

you smiled genuinely at her minuscule drama and nodded. she gave your arm a squeeze before bounding down the steps, her dress flowing behind her. you watched as she nudged wheezie, who ignored her, then as sarah snatched the phone from her sister’s hands and tossed it onto the table. wheezie quickly turned to her older sister and started to shout until she remembered where she was. you knew that the cameron sisters knew that if they caused a scene, all hell would break lose with ward, their father. he was all about his family’s image.

you stepped over to the railing, leaning against one of the pillars with your arms across your chest. looking over the crowding dance area, you saw your father dancing with ms. conelly. you had to stop the bile from reaching your throat. maybe she was nicer than your stepmother—ex stepmother.

you found rafe with a group of his friends closer to the tables. it was nauseating that they all had at least one hand in their pocket each. they could’ve been a boy band for crying out loud. rafe was laughing and you couldn’t hear him over the mass amount of chatter, but you knew which laugh it was. he was enjoying himself. at least he was happy. beside him, topper was sipping from a green beer bottle. a humorous hum erupted from your chest, a smile pulling at the corner of your lips.

you couldn’t stop giggling. it bubbled from your chest like champagne and disappeared into the fast moving air around you as you jogged onto the porch. you held an arm over your chest, stopping your boobs from bouncing too much, while your hand was clasped tightly in rafe’s. he stopped along the railing, propping himself against the pillar to breathe. you peered over at topper who was trying to contain his coughing fit.

rafe laughed, squinting his eyes shut. you two had escaped just in time from the boy who was trying so hard to flirt with cassie o’brien. from the sound of it, it wasn’t going well at all so you took it upon yourself to help topper out. you whispered to rafe for his hidden flask and snuck a bit into topper’s drink that he was holding. it was difficult at first since he talked a lot with his hands, but eventually you poured some of the liquor in and hid it as you went back over to rafe. it didn’t take long for topper to know what happened, his eyes finding you and your boyfriend before you ran like school children.

“he’s going to give us so much shit.” you said, shaking your head with a grin.

rafe settled, wiping the corner of his eyes. he pulled the flask from his pocket and held it up in cheers to topper, who was still shooting daggers your way. rafe took a swig then passed it to you. you took a sip, grimacing and shivering as the liquor passed into your system.

“i don’t even know how much i put in his drink.” you said as you handed the flask back. rafe laughed again, leaning toward you to put his head on your shoulder. his arms went around you, pulling you flush against him in a hug.

“god, i love you.” he said, bright eyes as he looked down at you.

you smiled before he kissed you sweetly, holding your face against his for a moment.

you hadn’t realized you’d caught topper’s attention until he disappeared from your sight. you reached for the railing with shaky hands, willing them to stop trembling.

“you look pathetic over here.” topper said from behind you. you looked over your shoulder as he walked over.

“thanks so much, topper.” you said in a feigned enthusiastic tone. he sighed deeply and glanced in the direction of where he previously was, where rafe still was. you didn’t bother looking over there. you found the chipped paint much more interesting than your ex.

“you don’t have to be over here.” you said. the last thing you wanted was rafe’s best friend pitying you. did rafe ask him to come over?

topper turned in your peripheral, leaning his hip against the railing, his hands on his pockets. “you’re my friend too.” he said. you picked off a piece of paint. it crumbled easily under your nail. “you’re not answering my texts.”

now you looked up at him. maybe he’d see why you hadn’t answered. he’d have to be an idiot not to know. topper was smart though and you knew that. he gave you a sympathetic look, much like sarah.

“why don’t you find a rebound or something?” topper suggested, hoping to lighten the mood. “there’s a whole lot of fresh meat here.”

you didn’t want fresh meat. you wanted old meat. you wanted the meat you had for the last two years. it was familiar. it was safe. you knew the taste. you knew what to expect when you took a bite.

“i wouldn’t do that to him.” you shook your head softly.

topper’s mouth twitched into a partial smile. his hand appeared on your shoulder before he pulled you into a hug. you hadn’t hugged topper that many times throughout your life. but this was nice. you wrapped your hands around his back, planting them flat on his shoulder blades. resting your head against his chest, you closed your eyes for a moment and just let it be.

“will you dance with me?” he asked after a long moment. you remembered where you were then, hearing the clinking glasses and loud voices.

you pulled away to look toward the party again. you spotted your father across the dance floor, no longer dancing with a pining middle aged woman. he caught your eye, a slightly raise of his eyebrows in question.

“maybe later, top.” you said and slid your arms away from him. you sent him a thankful smile as you went down the stairs to your dad.

“hey, kiddo.” your soft-spoken father said, reaching a hand toward you. you took it and let him pull you onto the dance floor for a slower song. “what’s going on?”

you looked up at his aged eyes from his plaid tie and smiled weakly. “it’s nothing, dad.”

“what’s wrong?” he prodded as your feet moved together. your father was always one to get you to talk things out, to let your feelings out. he always reminded you to just feel them, to let them come and go.

your eyes pricked with more tears and you quickly lay your head on his chest. he brushed your hair on the back of your head as you squeezed your eyes shut and begged the tears to go away. you needed to stop crying.

“i want to break up.”

“it’s okay to miss him.” you father said only for you to hear. you didn’t want to open your eyes because you knew that if you did, you’d see everyone else around you. keeping them closed and focusing on his voice kept you safe.

“i just don’t want this anymore.”

“it’s part of healing to miss him.” he continued. you tightened your arms around his shoulders, clasping your hands together.

“i still want to be friends.”

“do you miss her?” you asked, your voice cracking slightly.

“sometimes.” he answered. “but we were different than you and rafe.” he hadn’t said his name since you told him the day you got home. you felt a tear slip down your cheek. “listen, i can’t tell you how long it’s going to take, but there’s going to be a day where you won’t feel sad about it anymore. i promise you won’t feel like this forever.” he pressed a kiss to your hair. “just keep doing what you’re doing, focus on school, focus on your friends, have fun, go out and meet someone new for the night.”

if you hadn’t been crying or in your feelings you would’ve rolled your eyes and felt a little uncomfortable at your dad encouraging you to have a one-night stand. but it felt good to hear the affirmations.

“it’s okay.” he said. “it’s going to be okay.”

#rafe cameron #outer banks #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron oneshot #rafe cameron x fem!reader

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Prized Cattle.

Word Count: 5.4k

Written for an anonymous commissioner.

Synopsis: Life on a farm is difficult. What’s even more difficult is life underneath a farm, or rather, life in the basement of a farmhouse, where your captor’s content to treat you like a prized, albeit unwilling, hen. At least Zacharia’s never been a terribly cautious man. It makes breaking out of your pen that much easier. 

TW: Non-Con, F. Reader-Insert, Fingering, Dehumanization, Groping, Degradation, Captivity, Mentions of Kidnapping, Mentions of Stockholm Syndrome, Mentions of Past Abuse, Graphic Violence, Blood, and Phonetically Transcribed Southern Accents. 

Somehow, it’d never occurred to you that captivity would be this draining.

Logically, you knew you should be glad Zacharia was too busy to deal with you. He was your kidnapper, for fuck’s sake, a man who took you away from your home, your life, and beat every reason you should hate him into you over and over and over again until you couldn’t possibly forget your distaste. You had the marks to prove it, the lovebites and the lasting scars that had yet to fade, that you doubted every would, if you were being honest. Your hands weren’t bound, not anymore, but there were still a dozen different deadbolts on the basement door, a sturdy layer of wood keeping every window permanently shut, a locked box that kept everything sharp and useful out of your reach. You were free to roam around the basement, free to read the novellas Zacharia was so fond of and immerse yourself the few luxuries he was willing to provide, but you weren’t free. You shouldn’t let yourself start to act like you were. You shouldn’t let yourself stop thinking like a captive.

You shouldn’t miss Zacharia.

And yet, here you were.

You let out a long, languid sigh, rolling onto your stomach and burying your face in your bedsheets. It’d been like this for weeks, you’d been like this for weeks. Zacharia wasn’t a diligent man. He had farm-hands to take care of most of the manual labor on his land, leaving him with all the time in the world to pull at your hair and torment you to his contentment. Thankfully, blessedly, tragically, when one of his prized dairy cows fell pregnant, he’d taken it upon himself to care for the poor thing, doting on the creature as if he didn’t have a girl locked up against her will. You’d been relieved, at first. If he was busy, he wouldn’t have as much time to ‘look after you’, as he put it. You wouldn’t have to walk on eggshells or mind your manners, not when he only came down for breakfast and dinner, and even then, he was too distracted to do anything notably unpleasant. You should be happy, you should be elated, but after two solid months of being left to your own devices, it was hard not to feel… insulted. Neglected. Bored, but not just bored.

Horribly, guiltily lonely. Regardless of how much you wanted to be anything else.

Mindlessly, you gaze strayed from the sheets, falling to something you assumed you’d think about twice. A doll, no taller than your calf and painfully hand-made, all rough stitches and patchwork clothes and big, pupilless, unblinking button eyes, one beginning to loosen from the hours you’d spent picking at it. You hadn’t thought much of it. The toy was more for Zacharia’s enjoyment than yours, a jab at the fact that he could be a gentle, caring man and decided he’d prefer not to, but the purpose behind his gift didn’t matter, not to you, not now. There were scraps of fabric in your room, and you could scavenge thread from your clothes or a soon-to-be mutilated pillowcase. A needle would be more difficult to find, but it wouldn’t be impossible.

You already had a doll, and any doll could be modified.

~

Zacharia could make it very, very hard to hate him.

It was only when he wanted to, of course. Between escape attempts and punishments and shows of his superiority, he was capable of navigating the calm, domestic tranquility most couples didn’t need a list of rules and a flaying knife to reinforce. When he pulled you into his side, taking a lock of your hair to spin around his finger as he rambled on about his day or his plans or something particularly memorable one of his chickens did, it was easy to lay your head against his chest, play with the hem of his well worn, button-up shirt and be thankful for the change of pace. You could forget why you needed the doll (currently tucked safely underneath your bed), and you didn’t have to think about the fact that he was only visiting you to make sure he didn’t come home to a starved, emaciated corpse when he wanted the affection of something with two legs, rather than four. It was easy not to hate him.

And thus, it was easy not to want him to leave.

“It’s only been a few minutes,” You mumbled, keeping your voice low, quiet, doing your damnedest not to make your complaint stretch into a whine. It was only half-successful, but Zacharia was in a merciful enough mood not to point it out, his ever-present grin only broadening slightly as you swung your feet off the side of your bed, pretending to be more interested in the bare, cement floor than you were in him. “I just don’t see why you bother coming down here at all if you have to leave so soon. It’s not like a couple of seconds is going to stop me from trying to break out, again.”

“If you’re gonna say you missed me, you’re gonna have to say it,” He teased, ruffling your hair, forcing you to bat his hand away like a frustrated child before he stopped. Even then, he paused, taking a moment to scan over you before he continued, or rather, to scan over your new ‘dress’, a flannel shirt he’d been kind enough to give you for a few weeks of good behavior. The sleeves were a little too long, falling just below your fingertips, and saying the hem came to your mid-thigh would’ve been generous, but it was more conservative than anything else he’d given you, so far. It was a step closer to a full outfit, to proper clothes.

A step closer to being allowed to go outside, if you were being optimistic.

“Just be thankful it ain’t one of the mares,” He went on, letting out the indignant huff of someone who’d spent much too time around far too demanding animals. “Last one took two years to pop, and even then, the foal was just a touch to the right of premature. Not that he cared, though, we spent weeks fishing the poor, simple thing out of every ditch on the property. Kinda like you, the first time you made a run for it.”

Despite yourself, you smiled. It was hard not to smile while watching a grown man shake his head over a horse’s pregnancy. “How much longer do you think it’s going to take?”

“Much, much longer, pumpkin. These sorta things don’t happen overnight.” Another non-answer, the kind you were starting to get used to. You could suppress your frown, but your shoulders were slumping before you could catch yourself, an undeniable pout forming in the place of a more respectable expression. Zacharia didn’t take long to notice, humming gently as he bent down, coming just close enough to press a quick, comforting kiss into the top of your head before he pulled away. For a second, a traitorous part of you dared to want something more, something substantial, but thankfully, he was at a safe distance before you could act on the impulse, and you were too busy cursing your own mind to mourn the loss. “I’ll be back by dawn, this time, swear on the nearest grave. Wouldn’t want you throwin’ another hissy fit just because I missed a meal or two.”

You didn’t respond to that, glaring at your knees, and Zacharia chose to take his leave with a smirk and a breathy chuckle. You didn’t look up, not when you heard him climb the creaking basement stairs, not when the door fell closed and an array of different locks clicked into place, and certainly not when you felt that dark, cold air of loneliness return, frigid and cryptic and unwanted. You wanted him to stay. You wanted him to come back and hold you and spend hours with you, dolling you up or making you feel weaker than you really were or doing anything, as long as he kept you company while he was at it. He’d left you alone, and you wished he hadn’t. He’d left you to suffer, and you didn’t want any pain he didn’t care enough to inflict by hand. You wanted him to--

No, you didn’t want anything.

You needed to get out of here.

It wasn’t a matter of what you wanted anymore. If your current thoughts were any indication, you had to get out of here. You’d been in the same room too long, in your own head too long. You’d let your intentions and your desires and your selfish, selfish wants mix together, and the results were little more than a muddled paint of confusion and uncertainty and more misplaced trust than you were willing to admit. Part of you was tempted to linger on it, to dwell in the space between what you desperately wanted to believe and what you knew better than to chase after, and you took the sign to push whatever remained from your mind and force yourself to stand, your fists curling at your sides as you bit down on your tongue hard, blood soon coating the inside of your mouth a second later. It stuck to the back of your teeth, its metallic taste heavy and unpleasant. It was refreshing, though, and it gave you the motivation you needed to push yourself to take a step, then another, and finally, you found the will to root through the pile of spare clothes and blankets and supplies Zacharia kept in the back of your closet until you discovered your reward.

A simple, black toolbox. Minimalistic and cheap, and the exact thing you needed to get out of this hell.

There was a lock on the latch, a dial meant to keep nosy children and curious captives out, but rather than aiming for that, you aim for the thick plastic of the lid, something that wouldn’t stand a chance against your preferred method of destruction - the one leg of your bed unbolted to the ground, just loose enough to be forced upward and just heavy enough to break through anything less sturdy than solid metal. The toolbox just barely fit underneath it, and when the foot first fell with a loud, unignorable thud, you almost held your breath, refusing to let yourself relax until the basement door failed to swing open and Zacharia failed to emerge with whatever awful, creative weapon he could scrounge up in less than a minute. It took three blows before the lid gave out, cracking down the middle and giving you just enough room to pry the two halves of the container apart, your fingers soon aching and cramping with the effort.

You were successful, though. In less than a minute, the fruits of your effort laid in front of you in the form of rusted tools and loose screws and wires, things that may’ve seemed unimpressive to anyone else but looked like small, disguised miracles to you. In hindsight, you should’ve been in more of a hurry than you were. You should’ve gotten what you needed and ran, as fast as you could and as far as you could, but freedom was a tricky thing. As soon as you got a taste for it, however small, all you wanted was more, even when real freedom was only a handful of rusted nails and broken boards away. You weren’t thinking about time when you grabbed the small, silver box-cutter, testing the dull blade against a lock of your hair, nor were you thinking at all when you decided what your next show of self-sufficiency would be. No, you were too giddy for that. You were too excited.

It didn’t take long to cut away the most visible mark Zacharia had left on you - your hair. He’d let it grow out since he took you away, refusing to cut it, letting every inch become another thing to tug at and wrap around his fist when he wanted something you didn’t know how to give. It felt good to rid yourself of it - no, it was more than that, it felt right. You couldn’t tear off the feeling of his hands on your skin or wash the memories away, but you could draw the box cutter through your hair until you no longer felt its weight pulling through your scalp, until the ends of it barely brushed against your shoulders. You weren’t a professional, nor was your impulsive haircut anywhere near even, but the deed was done and that was all that mattered to you.

In comparison, getting rid of the boards covering the basement window was child’s play. You’d done it a thousand times before, and Zacharia never bothered to upgrade his security. He wanted you to learn your lesson, he wanted you to be too afraid to try to run, but by doing so, he underestimated your tenacity and overestimated your will to recall all the bloody, grisly things he tried to teach you time and time again. The curved back of a rust-coated hammer did the trick, and within minutes, the two bottom-most planks had fallen away, giving you just enough space to haul yourself from Zacharia’s worktable to the edge of the windowsill and out into the darkened world, your eyes closing as you took in your first breath of fresh air.

It was a warm night, the kind of breezy, humid atmosphere you used to consider an unnecessary, juxtapositional nuisance. But, for all your opinion was worth, tonight was perfect, welcoming you as much as you welcomed it. You paused while you were still in the farmhouse’s shadow, looking out over Zacharia’s farm, the terrain you so often heard about but so rarely got a chance to map out, so rarely got the chance to see. It was bigger than you thought it’d be, but smaller, at the same time. Acres of crops stretched out in front of you, lines of yellow and green marching into the horizon, and to your side, only separated by a generous expanse of open field, stood a barn, all faded paint and sturdy wood and lights that were too bright and too harsh to be anything but industrial. It’d be a good hiding place, even if the woods surrounding his property would be your haven tonight. There were plenty of places to tuck yourself into, though. Full of empty stalls and unlocked doors and…

And a boy.

A boy with blonde hair, tan skin, a feed bucket in his hand and a smile too wide and too eager to belong to anyone you didn’t know.

You blinked once, then twice, and then you broke into a sprint, not bothering to stay long enough to hear Zacharia take off after you.

~

You’d almost forgotten how it felt to be chased.

All of it was so familiar, and yet, you could feel the forest getting further away every time the soles of your feet beat against the leaf-littered floor, every time your lungs ached and protested and every time you stumbled over a branch or a root and cursed your own body for being so useless. You knew what was happening. You were panicking, and thus, you were trying to distance yourself from the fight, the hunt, the sound of Zacharia getting closer and closer and closer until his hands were in your hair and his foot was colliding with the back of your knee, sending you crashing to the ground. By the time he had you pinned, his body bent over yours as one fist kept your wrists trapped behind your back and the other pushed your cheek into the dirt, you could hardly hear Zacharia’s deep, labored breaths, feel the heat radiating from his chest. Even the pain was delayed, your mind going blank before a thousand different needles dug themselves into your skin, stabbing and burrowing and writhing, forcing out a scream you could barely bring yourself to hear.

Zacharia, meanwhile, didn’t seem to feel the tension. If he wanted to be anywhere else, he didn’t seem reluctant to draw out the experience, his teeth ghosting over the nape of your neck as he pushed a soft, airy kiss into your spine, the gesture as forgiving as it was fatal. His lips pressed against your shoulder blade, letting the edges of his smile bite into your bare skin and muffling his chuckle, not that you needed anything other than the quick, almost unnoticeable squeeze to your wrists to know he was either amused, relieved, or so, so angry.

You had a feeling you knew which one, too. Not that Zacharia wasn’t happy to clarify.

“You fucked up.” It was a simple phrase, distorted only by the levity in his voice and his natural, charming drawl, making the words seem meaningless, disarming. You almost didn’t register his meaning, not until he let out an airy chuckle, the noise just low enough to make you flinch into the unforgiving earth. “You fucked up and you made me wait for it. This ain’t shapin’ up too well for you, honey.”

You didn’t apologize. You didn’t have time. As soon as he finished, you were being jerked upward, forced to your feet only to be pushed to your knees a moment later, your back now pressed against the thick, rough bark of an oak tree, Zacharia’s fingers entangled in the roots of your shortened hair to keep you grounded. You knew better than to try to fight him off, but you still winced when he spoke. “Wrists up,” He ordered, his free hand pulling at the length of rope at his belt. Already, you could feel the ghosts of past burns around your arms, your chest, and you hesitated without thinking, memories of pain warring with the knowledge that, if you didn’t comply, Zacharia would find a way to force you into something worse. It was a momentary reluctance, but that didn’t stop him from taking the excuse to drive the heel of his boot into your thigh, drawing both a pained cry and an instinctual shove, the former earning a tight, faux-sympathetic smile and the latter, a coil of rope, thick and heavy and so suddenly tight around your wrists, pulling your arms against your chest as Zacharia worked, restaining you against the sturdy trunk. “Gotta make sure you keep your hands to yourself, don’t I?” He called, securing your restraints, leaving you squirming and shifting for a way out of his simplistic security. “We all know how much trouble you get yourself into, whenever I look away.”

“I don’t…” You started, but trailed off quickly, not sure whether to apologize, beg for mercy, or call him one of the many vile names swirling on the tip of your tongue. Any insult you might’ve conjured was quickly swallowed down, though, dissolved and forgotten as Zacharia came back into your line of sight, something long and silver in his right hand, and a similar shape now missing from the hip of his belt.

A thin square of leather, the pad wrapped around a handle made up of two intertwined steel rods. A fly-swatter

A fucking fly-swatter.

You could’ve laughed. You might’ve, but whatever sound made it through your lips was drowned out by a solid, quick snap, the noise catching you off-guard, silencing you before the pain kicked in. It was bright, sudden, firm, a spark to the side of your knee that spread over your skin, refusing to die until you let out a small, almost inaudible whimper. Zacharia only smiled, his sharp grin glinting in the moonlight as he reached down, fiddling with the first button of your make-shift dress. “It’s been so long since you acted up,” He muttered, tugging on the fabric just enough to pull it loose. You flinched in response, bringing up your bound hands to cover your exposed chest, but Zacharia flashed a smirk and shook his head, and you were left to avert your eyes and bite the inside of your cheek like a scolded child, letting him trace the shape of your collarbone. “Almost forgot why I don’t let my animals wear anything nice.”

You moved to protest, but with a clench of his jaw and a strong jerk, whatever defense your clothing offered fell away, buttons snapping or falling away and leaving you in little more than a blanket of red flannel and thin, lacy panties, neither providing much protection from the biting cold. An icy breeze ran over your skin, urging you to curl up and shiver yourself to a happier time, but Zacharia was nothing if not selfish when it came to your attention. His swatter crashed against your side, the bottom of your rib cage, and when that failed to satisfy him, your bicep, pure fire seeping into your flesh wherever the leather made contact. “Stop!” You cried out, mindlessly. “It hurts, Zach, it hurts. You have to--”

“Look at that, now she’s forgettin’ her manners.” He clicked his tongue, the noise accompanied by three strikes to your cheek, your head twisting to the side and your eyes clamping shut, this wound throbbing, aching, threatening to bruise in a matter of seconds. “You ain’t gonna tell me I’ve been takin’ care of an ungrateful bitch, are you? I don’t house brats, and I know I haven’t been treatin’ one of ‘em as well as I’ve been treatin’ you.” He paused, a ruthless growl crawling out of his throat as something hard and pointed rammed itself into your stomach. A kick, you realized, just in time for the second, this one forcing your eyes open as hot, metallic blood washed over your tongue. “Some fucking nerve. I should bridle you and send you to sleep with the damn horses, just for bein’ so goddamn rude.”

He was cruel. He was cruel and cold-hearted and evil, but more than that, he was persistent. Blow after blow rained down, your chest morphing into a patchwork of sensitive irritation and black-rimmed bruises, your nerves alerted and abused and your mind growing so overwhelmed, all you could think about was the pain, how it changed, how it got worse, how it never seemed to numb. Again, his heel dug into the inside of your thigh and again, you screamed, but it wasn’t just the pressure, this time. No, a thousand tiny needles seemed to burrow themselves into your skin and move, forcing themselves deeper whenever you shifted or bled or breathed, any action only driving the invaders further in. Nettle, you realized, green and thriving and happy to call your flesh its new home, but if Zacharia cared that your blood was staining his favorite boots, his concern was outweighed by his unadulterated, sadistic glee. His attacks became more focused, more aimed, determined to drive you deeper or bring you closer, to let the nettle tear you apart or persuade you to accept your kidnapper’s discipline with open arms. You didn’t know which you’d rather suffer through. You didn’t know where you were or how to leave. You didn’t care.

You just wanted it to stop. You needed it to stop.

You weren’t sure when you started crying, and yet, tears were streaming down your cheeks before you could wipe them away, mixing with the blood pooling underneath you as they fell from your chin. Your lungs burnt, your chest heaved, each inhale becoming labored and each exhale turning into something desperate, something raspy and exhausted and barely human, as animalistic as he seemed to think you were. That was what satisfied Zacharia. Not your capture, not your pain, but your depletion and the emptiness that came with it. You didn’t look up when he dropped to one knee, cooing as he kissed the top of your head, and you didn’t stop mumbling your small, pathetic pleas until his rope dropped into your lap, falling to the ground as strong arms wrapped around you, looping under your knees and pulling you against a warm, welcoming chest. For a moment, it didn’t matter who it belonged to.

For a moment, you didn’t care that you shouldn’t want to be held.

The walk back to the farmhouse was a blur. Zacharia didn’t speak, not beyond a gentle hush whenever your sobbing grew a little too loud, but it was easy to fall into his heartbeat, his soft touches, the idea that your suffering was over, for now, at least. For the first time, you let out a sigh of relief when the basement came into view, but rather than dropping you into bed and leaving you to wallow in your own self-pity, you were carried to the ensuite bathroom, instead, left on the counter as Zacharia disappeared, searching for supplies and, hopefully, medicine.

You let yourself take a breath in, then let one out. It was easy, the easiest thing you’d done all night. Your pain didn’t reside and you were just as trapped as you’d been the night before, but you could inhale and exhale and you could convince yourself that you’d be alright, that eventually, you’d be fine. Zacharia couldn’t do anything worse to you, not tonight. He couldn’t humiliate you any further, you were sure of that. There was nothing else he could--

“Hey, baby, care to explain this?”

Instantly, you snapped towards the bathroom doorway, only to reel back once you saw what he’d found. In your manic escape, you’d forgotten about that damned thing, that terrible gift, that doll, its hair cropped short and its clothing sewn into something more specific, something boyish and so sickeningly obvious. Heat rose to your cheeks in a matter of seconds, but your embarrassment did little to stop a lazy smile from pulling at Zacharia’s lips, his satisfaction only becoming more apparent as he approached, throwing the ragdoll carelessly into the nearest corner as he settled in front of you. He got to work quickly, popping the lid off of some unlabelled, homemade remedy, but the soothing, oily balm soon being rubbed into your wounds did little to save you from Zacharia’s voice, the feeling of his teeth ghosting over your neck as he made himself comfortable in the crook of your neck. As you failed to fight back.

“If you missed me that much,” He started, his fingertips skittering over the shallow wounds on your legs and lower back, neglecting the bruises on your upper-body. He took his time, but he worked efficiently, letting his ointment smear your drying blood. Letting you feel the pricks of sterile, healing pain before something icy took its place and stuck around, making sure your injuries would stay in the back of your mind. Making sure you wouldn’t forget the lesson he’d cut into you. “You could’ve spoken up. I can’t have my little girl gettin’ this lonely, can I?” He barely tried to muffle his laugh, only kissing your shoulder hastily to stifle the sound. Even that came off as condescending - a consolation prize in place of his respect. “It looks like you’ve been coddling the poor thing half to death, too. You slept with it, didn’ya? Held it whenever I wasn’t around? C’mon, don’t keep me in the dark…” His left hand trailed towards the inside of your thigh, his thumb tracing over your covered slit. “You tried to fuck it, right?”

The question was so blunt, so out of place, you couldn’t stop yourself from going rigid, but Zacharia was quick to take you by the shoulder, using a fraction of his strength to keep you in place as he slid your panties to the side, forcing two fingers inside of you without preparation, without ease, without love. The stretch was awful, the feeling of his gloves and his balm creating something slick and cold and unnatural, but Zacharia just hummed, kissing your temple as you let out a silent gasp, trying not to tremble as you fought not to collapse in on yourself. He gave you a moment to adjust, but only a moment, seeming to savor the way you whimpered as he began to pull out.

“Please, I’m not-” Your plea was cut short by another brutal intrusion, this one just as sudden, made worse when paired with the way his fingers curled inside of you, stretching you open with no plan or precision. No, you’d been through this before, you knew what he was doing, why he was doing it. He was trying to prove something, to force you into a drooling, blissful submission. To prove that he could make you unravel better and faster than you or anyone else ever could. “I’m not ready. Please, you can’t do this.”

“I don’t think I asked.” If he had any intention to make you feel something other than electric, invasive pleasure, you couldn’t tell. He didn’t favor your sensitive spots, he abused them, prodding and poking whatever made you stiffen and twitch and whine, his hips becoming the only thing keeping your thighs from snapping shut. “I’ve been treating you with nothin’ but kindness, but you’re awful mean to me, tryin’ to run away every chance you get then mouthing off without permission. You’re gonna take what I give you, and you’ll be grateful for it. I don’t wanna hear another word out of you, not unless you’re ready to thank me for bein’ so forgiving.”

You didn’t. You couldn’t. Your mouth refused to form the words, your brain refused to work, your entire body somehow freezing and burning at the same time. Zacharia went on, but you couldn’t seem to listen, your own racing pulse and the wet sounds of his fingers plunging into you soon filling your ears, making it impossible to take in anything else. It hurt. It was the best thing you’d ever felt. You wanted him to stop, and yet, you thought you might die if actually did. By the time he thought to actually consider your pleasure, the heel of his palm haphazardly grinding against your clit in rough, patternless motions, you were clinging to his shirt, mumbling out nonsense and begging him to stop, to keep going, to just get it over with. It didn’t matter though. Even if you had managed to speak, it still wouldn’t have.

Zacharia was too busy laughing to hear a word you said.

Your end came abruptly, too quickly but not nearly fast enough. His right hand fell, grabbing your waist and pinning you down as his left arched, poising as another digit slipped into you, giving you just enough friction and fulfillment to shove you over that desperate, messy cliffside. Your vision went white around the edges, your form tensing as your cunt clenched around him, the wave crashing as shakily as it’d formed. You didn’t try to resist your exhaustion, anymore. As soon as Zacharia pulled away, his now-unsanitary gloves easily discarded in the bathroom sink, you fell apart, crumbled, turned into nothing more than a pile of limbs and afterglow and shame.

“Poor baby,” He cooed, lifting you off the countertop as if he wasn’t the reason you couldn’t walk on your own. “We’ll have to get you cleaned up good ‘n proper tomorrow, a bath and…” He paused, twirling a lock of your hair around his finger, evaluating your rush-job. “And a real haircut. We’ll see if we can’t get you somethin’ a little more effective than that doll of yours, too.”

You didn’t have the energy to retort. It was all you could do to stay conscious, and even that was a push, your eyes closing as he carried you past your bedroom and only opening again when your back hit something warm and plush, softer than anything in the basement. Blearily, you glanced around the new environment, but the plain ceiling and rafters above you did little to clear your confusion. “This isn’t…”

“Thought you might enjoy the change of scenery,” Zacharia explained, the mattress shifting as he sat down, leaning against the wooden headboard as he encouraged you to relax. You didn’t bother trying to resist, letting him guide your head into his lap, not batting his hand away when his fingers began to card through your hair. “The attic, sweetheart. There ain’t no windows up here, and you don’t have to worry about all the clutter in your last room. I made sure you have exactly what you need, no more, no less. Almost thought you weren’t gonna give me a reason to show it off.”

Dully, you noted that ‘exactly what you need’ probably didn’t include very much. “And you’re staying?”

“For as long as I can.” From anyone else, the sentiment might’ve sounded sweet, considerate. When the words fell from Zacharia’s lips, it just sounded like a warning. “Why wouldn’t I?”

It was a fleeting concern. An immature one. Something you shouldn’t have cared about, but you clung to nonetheless. Like you were still coming to terms with the events of the past few hours. “What about your--”

Zacharia smiled sympathetically, pityingly, and you stopped talking.

Only then, with your cheek pressed against the rough fabric of his pants and his blunt nails scraping against your scalp, did you remember that Zacharia didn’t keep cows. He never had, and you doubted he ever would. He’d said as much himself, repeated it countless times prior to the past two months.

You stopped trying to keep yourself awake, after that.

#yandere #yandere love #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere prompt #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere scenario #yandere imagines #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere scenarioes #yandere imagine #commission #commision #comission #writing commission #yandere commission #yandere fantasy #yandere fanfiction #yanderecore #yancore

[sincerelyella]

Everything Has Changed - Long Live The Queen Chapter 2

Book: The Royal Romance (AU)

Song inspiration: Long Live The Queen by Frank Turner

Pairings: Liam x MC (Ella)

Characters belong to Pixelberry; MC Ella Brooks belongs to me

Summary: What if Liam was promised as a child to another kingdom’s princess?

A/N: Participating in @wackydrabbles and the prompt will be in bold.

Tagalog words to know: Lola - grandmother

Warnings: angst, my little Liam crying 

Words: 1583

As Ella bolted out of the room, Danilo shouted, "Young lady! Get back here!"

A little voice echoed down the hallway. "Come over here and make me!"

Eleanor covered her mouth and pretended to cough to conceal her laugh. Flora tucked her lips between her teeth to hide the smile that was threatening to show. Liam looked up at his parents and then Ella's. "She seemed upset," he shuffled his feet as he locked eyes with his mother. "I think … I'll go see if she's okay."

Eleanor smiled and nodded.

The young prince quickly walked out of the room and looked around for any indication of Ella. He caught a streak of pink outside the palace doors and ran down the large staircase to follow her. Once outside, he scanned left and right, then spotted her by the fountain and entrance to the garden maze. Liam slowly made his way over to her; when she saw him approaching, her eyes widened.

"Prince Liam! I'm sorry, I just got nervous-"

Liam shook his head. "Please don't apologize. I told my father the same thing before you arrived," he smiled at her. "You can just call me Liam; I don't really like titles in casual settings."

Ella met his gaze and smiled back at him. "Me too! My friends call me Ella or El … like my name isn't short enough," she rolled her eyes.

Liam smiled. "Okay then, Ella," he stuck his hand out towards her; Ella grabbed it, thinking he wanted to shake hands. Instead, he lifted her knuckles to his lips and brushed a soft kiss over them. "I'd like to be friends; it seems like we'll be spending a lot of time together."

Six-year-old Ella was used to people bowing, curtsying, and kissing her hand, but it felt different this time for some reason. A nervous laugh bubbled up from her chest, and her cheeks blushed a tinge of pink that matched her outfit. "Yes, I'd like that."

"Let me show you the garden maze, my mother designed it, and it's my favorite part of the palace."

The two descended into the garden entrance while the two couples watched intently from the palace doors.

"Seems like all is in order, Danilo," Constantine grinned and patted him on the shoulder.

"Yes, it does, my friend; we shall see you again over the summer."

The next year, Queen Eleanor passed away, and instead of a fun summer together as kids, Ella and her family came to Cordonia for the queen's funeral. Liam was stoic even at nine years old, but Ella could tell he was trying to hold back tears the entire time she was there. She had made friends (sort of) with little Lord Maxwell and Liam's best friend, Drake. Maxwell seemed excited about everything, and Drake was the total opposite. Ella assumed Liam needed a balance in his life, one friend was happy all the time, and the other wasn't.

July 2000

Max, Drake, and Ella had tried to get Liam to cheer up after his mother's death. One night, the trio built a blanket fort in Maxwell's room and filled the inside with pillows, ice cream, and pizza. Liam was very polite; of course, he was always polite. He ate his pizza and ice cream dutifully but didn't laugh at any of Maxwell's antics and excused himself early so that he could go to bed.

The next night, Maxwell went back to Ramsford, and Drake was with his family, so it was just Ella and Liam at the palace. Leo always snuck out and did his own thing, especially after Eleanor's death. He was a teenager and wasn't the best supportive big brother to Liam. After a silent dinner with Liam, the two of them walked together to their respective rooms and separated after bidding each other goodnight.

Ella's mother and father were in the suite, relaxing after their dinner with Constantine.

Flora smiled as her daughter walked inside. "Hi, baby, how was dinner with Liam?"

Ella shrugged. "It was quiet. Mama, you know I can't be quiet for that long! He's acting like how I was when Lola died."

"He misses her," Danilo added. "Remember how you felt when Lola passed away, my princess?"

Ella's eyes watered, and her lip quivered. "Can we do something for him?"

"Like what, hun?"

Her little brows furrowed in thought. "What about what you got me when Lola went to heaven?"

Danilo nodded approvingly. "That little keychain with her picture?"

"Yes! Do you think he'll like it?"

Flora pulled her daughter onto her lap and kissed her cheek. "I think he will, baby. I'll get everything set for you, okay?"

"Thank you, mama," Ella hugged her mother and kissed her father, goodnight.

The next day, true to her word, Flora was able to get a keychain with the late queen's picture inside it, and not just any image, but a photo of her holding Liam as a baby. Ella smiled at her gift and thanked her mother, profusely.

"Remember, he is still going to be sad, so don't expect him to be excited and jump for joy," Flora whispered as she hugged her daughter.

"I know, mama, I just want him to know that I know how he feels."

"Okay," Flora kissed Ella on the forehead and pushed her towards the front door. "Go ahead and find him then, baby."

Ella skipped out in the hallway and past the palace doors. She pushed open the heavy glass and made her way to the garden maze. He has to be in there; he said it's his favorite place. Ella peered into the entrance of the garden and hesitantly stepped inside. What if he's not here? I'll forget how to get out! She chewed her bottom lip nervously but decided it was worth it. Ella was eager to give him her gift; she just wanted him to feel better. Ella's ponytail swung back and forth as she made her way through the maze. She followed the beautiful roses that were sporadically planted in between the bushes. Finally making it to the center, she saw blonde hair and smiled. There he was, sitting at the memorial bench that was placed there for his mother. It sounded like he was talking, and Ella, not wanting to disturb him, crept silently closer to listen.

"I miss you a lot, mother; I don't have anyone else to talk to about things," Liam sniffled. "I mean, there are Drake and Maxwell sometimes, but they're with their families. Father seems to be busy more often now, and Leo is … gone most of the time. I just-"

Ella accidentally stepped on a twig, and the snapping sound of it caused Liam to stop and turn. "Oh!" Ella turned a bright red. "Liam! I'm … I mean, hi!"

"Hello," Liam smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "How did you know I was here?"

"You told me this was your favorite place," Ella stepped forward. "Is it okay if I sit with you for a little bit?"

Liam nodded.

"Thank you." Ella moved towards the bench and climbed onto it.

"What's that?" Liam's eyes were focused on a small blue box in Ella's hand.

"Oh, this is for you," she handed it to him and smiled. "I'm sorry to interrupt you in the middle of-"

"It's okay," he answered quickly. "You didn't have to buy me anything." His fingers circled the box before he untied the bow. Inside, nestled a golden keychain with a picture of him and his mother. Liam's jaw went slack, and his eyes filled with tears.

"I wanted you to know that when my Lola passed away last year, I was just like you," Ella explained. "I usually don't ever stop talking, but when she died, I didn't want to talk. My Lola was my whole world. When my parents had to go on trips without me, she was my person. I talked to her about everything, and she listened like I was important."

Liam stayed silent; he was confident that only sobs would escape if he opened his mouth to speak.

"I just … felt like you should know I know how you feel, and I'm so sorry about your mom, Liam," Ella whispered. "I didn't mean to bother you; I know you were talking to her. I'll see you at dinner, okay?"

All he could muster was a nod, and he watched Ella hop off the bench and wander into the garden maze. Liam turned back around and stared down at the keychain, heavy in his little palm, and it was like a switch was turned on. The tears came like a flood, and he could do nothing to stop them. All the pain and heartache he held back for two months came barreling out of him at full speed.

Ella's ears perked up when she heard sniffling and heaving breaths. She realized quickly that it was Liam, so she turned back around and made a beeline for him. Liam listened to her approach, but he couldn't acknowledge her presence; the waves of emotion hit his small body like a freight train. He felt like a tornado had wrapped him up, and he was swirling around without purpose. Thankfully, Ella didn't speak or ask him any questions. She hopped back up onto the bench next to her friend, reached for his hand, and squeezed it reassuringly. Her hand felt like the anchor he needed.

#Everything Has Changed #trr au #trr fandom #trr fanfic #trr fanfiction #the royal romance au #the royal romance fandom #the royal romance fanfic #the royal romance fanfiction #the royal romance #trr #Liam x MC #Liam x Ella #Liam Rys #tw: angst

[taetaemilktea]

Chicken Noodle Soup with Tea on the Side

Part 2 to “Bring the Soup”

Summary: Following their life-changing yet draining Love Yourself world tour, Bangtan returns home with three very sick members. Hoseok and Yoongi have caught Taehyung’s miserable cold, but are lucky that the other members offer the best caretaking with lots of soup, tissues, and cuddles.

Sickies: Yoongi, Hoseok, Taehyung

Caretakers: Seokjin, Namjoon, Jimin, Jungkook

Word Count: 2262

Author’s Note: Hi!! Huge thanks to @snifflyjoonie and @chickennoodlej-hope for encouraging me to write a part 2! I hope you all like it!

~~~~~

Namjoon moans quietly with his eyes closed, turning up the volume on his “Relaxing Deep Sleep Sounds” playlist to full blast. It is a futile attempt to lull himself to sleep, as it isn’t very soothing or sleep-inducing to have anything played at full volume through one’s AirPods. He gives it five minutes before he groans and rolls over, pulling the blanket up and over his head, failing to block out any extraneous sounds. Five more minutes, and he gives up on sleeping all together, throwing the blanket off and over his lap as he huffs in annoyance.

How is anyone supposed to sleep when the soft and calming whirring of the airplane’s jets are constantly being interrupted by a volley of coughs and sniffles? For the last two hours since take-off from Paris back to Korea, Namjoon has been listening to Hoseok, Yoongi, and Taehyung trading off, like clockwork, each coughing and giving a series of nose blows one after the other. Every. Goddamn. Minute. And it is driving Namjoon slightly insane as he aims to get some much needed sleep after the end of their exciting but grueling world tour.

He relaxes slightly, however, upon looking over at Yoongi’s tired eyes as the rapper stares lazily at his phone in the dim cabin lights. Yoongi has on a large beanie and is bundled up in a warm blanket in his seat on the private jet. He continues to give soft yet rough coughs, muffling them into the blanket that he had grabbed to warm his chills. Yoongi is generally a quiet person, never one for dramatics or theatrics when it came to anything, really. But if Namjoon wasn’t mistaken, he hasn’t heard Yoongi mutter a word since the group arrived to the airport that morning. He imagines that his fellow songwriter must be suffering from one hell of a sore throat. Namjoon misses Yoongi’s gummy smile.

Next to Yoongi, Hoseok sits watching a movie. Namjoon can tell he isn’t quite paying attention though. Seokjin had placed his beloved RJ plush on Hoseok’s lap when he had started the film, hoping it might cheer him up. But now, RJ is pushed to the side of the seat in favor of a tissue box. Hoseok, as much as he loved watching movies on flights, is constantly forced to focus on blowing his nose instead. Used tissues litter the floor. Namjoon knows his poor 94-liner must be feeling exhausted and groggy, as Hoseok is the God of Cleanliness in the group. On any normal day, Hoseok would’ve shrieked to find used tissues anywhere but in the trash can where germs belonged.

Across the aisle, Taehyung has his head laid on Jimin’s shoulder. Too congested to breathe through his nose, he is forced to breathe warm, heavy breaths out of his mouth, drying out his lips. Jimin pulls a stick of chapstick out of his pocket and carefully applies it for him. Jimin knows Taehyung is thankful by the way he nestles his feverish forehead against Jimin’s neck. All he wants is for Taehyung to sleep, or at least manage a short nap. Every time he doses off, he sputters awake as the congestion in his nose makes it harder and harder to breathe.

The group is in bad shape. Namjoon wasn’t surprised when Yoongi and Hoseok admitted to catching Taehyung’s cold. He had walked in on the three of them sleeping in a hotel bed together and, while that definitely hadn’t been the most ideal given the members’ already weakening immune systems from the constant travel, knew that Hobi and Yoongi had done it to keep Tae company. Namjoon remembers Taehyung’s tear-stricken face at the end of their show in Paris and is honestly glad that Hobi and Yoongi had been willing to stay with him.

Thankfully, the group is on their way home. Soon, the three sick members can lay down in their own beds, take their medicine, and sleep to their hearts’ content. Until then, Namjoon wants his own sleep. He is exhausted. It isn’t easy being a leader on a world tour.

He rummages in his bag for some cough drops.

“Yoongi-ah...” he murmurs.

Yoongi looks up from his phone and is grateful to see Namjoon handing him the bag. He nods his thanks, pulling one out and handing the bag to Hoseok. He tosses it to Jimin, who grabs one and opens it, sliding it into Taehyung’s mouth. The bag finally makes its way back to Joon.

He smiles, glad to be helping his members and to hopefully be getting some sleep soon. Namjoon is so grateful when the coughing dies down in minutes as the three sick boys let the warm menthol ease their sore throats.

Namjoon curls back into his seat under the blanket and closes his eyes. His muscles relax and he sighs contently.

Sadly, the menthol makes its way into Taehyung’s congested and hypersensitive nose.

“Hh’TSCHHh!! Hh’!... HhETSSHH’huH!! hHAASHHh!!”

Gosh, this is going to be long flight.

-

The flight is long indeed, and rather somber as the world tour excitement wears off and is replaced with a light post-concert, post-travel sadness. It happens every time—it is nothing new.

But this time more than ever, Yoongi just wants to lay in his own bed, in his own room, and sleep. He craves the ability to drift off and rid himself of the buzzing headache and constantly running nose. He trudges alongside the group and their staff, doing his best to show smiling, shiny eyes behind his mask as they walk through Incheon airport to their awaiting cars.

He is oblivious to Seokjin trailing closely behind him, watching his every step as if Yoongi might crumble any moment. Jimin does the same to Taehyung, while Jungkook walks with his arm over Hoseok’s shoulders to keep him steady.

At reaching their cars, they mindlessly split into two groups, the maknae line in one, the hyung line in the other.

In moments after the car has pulled out onto the streets, Hoseok’s head has lulled to the side, falling onto Namjoon’s shoulder. The leader smiles to himself as his friend’s breath transforms into light, congested snoring.

“He’s out,” he murmurs, and Seokjin turns around from the front seat to look.

“I’m jealous,” Yoongi mumbles from the seat next to them, his warm forehead pressed against the cold glass window of the SUV.

“Don’t worry, Yoongi-ah. We’re almost home,” Seokjin gives a look of empathy. His naturally goofy and upbeat demeanor is diminished by the hurt he feels for his sick friends.

“hHESHHhuh!” Yoongi responds with a heavy sneeze and a groan of pain.

-

In the other car, Taehyung has hit rock bottom of the miserable cold. He is laid across Jungkook’s lap, head resting on the maknae’s large thigh. His throbbing headache is from thick congestion, which has sat with him throughout the entirety of the flight despite how many times he aimed to blow his nose. His fever rages, not at all helped by the transition from the warm plane to the chilly airport to the heated car. It makes him feel cloudy, and he hasn’t spoken a word to anyone in hours.

As a sad and clingy sickie, his only comforts are Jimin and Jungkook’s hands running through his hair and rubbing circles on his back. He wants cuddles. He wants Yeontan. He wants to hear Yoongi’s Daegu dialect telling him he’ll feel better soon.

-

It’s a day and a half later. The sounds of soft, shuffling feet pull Yoongi from his sleep on the couch. He gives a soft sigh and nestles further into the couch cushions, sniffling lightly as his nose had started to run while he napped. He can’t tell what time it is, but knows he has hardly passed the threshold of a satisfactory nap. The pounding headache and sore throat that he developed a few days ago are still bothering him, exhaustion from the Europe tour and his cold compounding into hours spent in bed.

Pulling the blankets more tightly over his shoulder, Yoongi keeps his eyes closed as the feet shuffle behind the couch and towards the kitchen. They stop suddenly, followed by a sharp intake of breath, and a quick fit of stifled sneezes.

“Hh!—hH’tsCH! h’ngTXxt! haH-tSCh!!”

The last one tumbles out.

“hHAT‘Shiiew!!”

“... bless you.” Yoongi mumbles into the blanket. Hoseok jumps a foot in the air.

“Aish, Yoongi-ah!” He peers over the back of the couch and down onto Yoongi. He still has his eyes closed.

“What?” Another soft mumble.

“I didn’t know you were there! What are you doing on the couch?”

“... Taking a nap?”

Hobi rolls his eyes, but walks over and sits on the couch. He grabs a tissue from the table and blows his now dripping nose.

“Yeah, but shouldn’t you be in bed?”

Yoongi pops an eye over to look up at Hobi.

“I’ve been in bed. For two straight days...” he quips, followed by a few rough coughs. Normally, he’d marvel at the ability to spend hours in bed napping, but the sore throat, body aches, and harsh sneezes were beginning to make him grumpy.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed? Why are you creeping around anyway?”

“I was trying to keep quiet. Taehyung is sleeping and I didn’t want to wake him,” Hoseok scrubs at his tired eyes.

“He’s sick, Hoba. He could sleep through anything. Namjoonie dropped a glass yesterday, and he didn’t even flinch from his spot on the couch.”

Hoseok giggled at their leader’s clumsy but endearing habits.

“I just wanted to make some lunch. I’m hungry.”

“Hungry?” Seokjin walks into the room carrying a small box of cold medicine. “Hyung will cook you something.”

“Soup?” A raspy voice appears behind Seokjin. Taehyung shuffles in with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and his hair a floppy mess. His voice has started to come back, but his rough, frequent sneezes continue to rip through his throat, minimizing any progress.

“Aren’t you tired of soup, Taehyung-ah? You’ve been eating soup for four days in a row.” Seokjin chuckles.

“I’m not tired of your soup, hyung. It’s the best.”

The eldest’s ears blush red, not uncommon when he receives complements.

“Chicken noodle soup?” Seokjin asks as Taehyung sits next to Hobi and hugs him, wrapping them both with the blanket he had around his shoulders.

“With a soda on the side?” Hobi giggles at the idea of his own song, forcing himself into a coughing fit.

“No, tea,” Seokjin replies, making his caretaker mode clear.

“Ha, says the man who thought drinking alcohol would cleanse his throat when he had a cold,” Yoongi raises an eyebrow in a teasing manner, hinting at the livestream in which Jin and Jimin had exposed the alcohol they had stashed in their hotel room.

“Yah, I knew what I was doing. And it helped—my sore throat went away!” Seokjin defended.

“Good, I’m going to drink some liquor then,” Yoongi states. Jin face palms.

“Seokjin-hyung is right, you should all be drinking tea,” Namjoon walks in after hearing his friends’ light bickering. “Tea will make you feel better. I’ll make it for you while Jin-hyung makes soup,” he nodded towards Seokjin, and the two moved to the kitchen to prepare the items for their sick members.

Before Yoongi has any time to drift off back to sleep, Joon and Seokjin walk over with bowls of soup and teacups filled with warm, lemon-honey tea on trays. Seokjin places each individual bowl and teacup on the small coffee table in the center of the room while Namjoon is tasked with dealing out cold medicine. In moments, Yoongi, Hoseok, and Taehyung are all quietly sipping broth, the steam rising and making their noses run.

Jimin and Jungkook return just in time from the gym and from stopping by the store. They carry bags flowing with tissues, cough drops, and vapor rub. Yoongi, Hoseok, and Taehyung thank their fellow members for their endless support, feeling drowsy as they finish their meals and let the cold medicine work it’s magic.

Namjoon plops down on the floor and opens a book while the others gather together on the couches. He begins reading, engrossed in the plot. He finishes a chapter and looks up to find everyone asleep together.

Yoongi lays in his usual curled up position on his side. Jin had sat on the floor with his back against the couch and had fallen asleep with his head leaning back next to Yoongi’s. The two eldest members share the pillow, Yoongi’s cheek smushed into it while Jin’s head laid on the corner.

Hoseok and Jungkook lay cuddled together on the opposite couch. It was no secret that Jungkook loved the smell of his Hobi-hyung. Hoseok had washed his hair earlier that morning in hopes of de-muddling his brain and de-congesting his nose. Jungkook sniffed in the fragrant scent of his shampoo and conditioner and had fallen asleep with Hobi in his arms.

Namjoon is not surprised to see Taehyung and Jimin bundled together in a heap of blankets. Taehyung has his arms wrapped around his soulmate and nose buried in Jimin’s neck. Tired from his gym session with the maknae, Jimin had fallen asleep in moments, happy to give Taehyung all the cuddles he needed.

Namjoon chuckles at the sight of his team, his forever family, happily dozing together and getting proper rest. Two more chapters, he tells himself, before he will wake Seokjin to make dinner for the healthy members and to serve Hoseok, Yoongi, and Taehyung—surprise—soup.

#bts snz #bts sickfic #sick!taehyung #sick!yoongi #sick!hoseok #caretaker!namjoon #caretaker!seokjin #caretaker!jimin #caretaker!jungkook

[narrans]

A Tall and Small Collection | Soren | Mission Prep

They ate lunch in relative silence while they reflected on their training. Soren could think of a million things his brothers still needed to learn. So far, they focused on physical training. They had learned how to climb a rope, albeit not very quickly, and had learned the essentials about tool maintenance.

Soren showed them the different tools such as the braided thread on his belt and the fishhook his own father had given him. He showed them how to braid the rope so it wouldn’t hurt their hands and how to climb using their legs instead of their arms. Soren, on their rest days, had also let them sew their own borrowing bag.

It had only been a month since their training began, but Soren felt confident they had what it took to go out with him on a very simple run.

Soren didn’t want to take them to the older human woman’s apartment. The cat was on the prowl and this mission should be set up for success. The apartment with the arguing humans wouldn’t do either. Their schedules had become more sporadic and Soren heard other humans in the apartment just two night ago. He didn’t know who they were and didn’t know if they left. The apartment they were training in was empty, leaving only one option.

Before, two apartments were available. Now, only one stood vacant. A new human, a young man probably around Soren’s age, had just moved into the apartment near the older woman. His apartment was a disaster at best, which meant there were plenty of boxes to hide around and a plethora of knick-knacks to borrow. It seemed like he was out most of the time and was asleep during the day.

Soren wanted to double check, but he was certain that tonight around dusk when the human left for work. Soren was finally prepared mentally on how he would address his proposal. “I know you’re tired after today, but,” Soren paused to catch their expressions before continuing. Their eyes gleamed with curiosity and weariness. “What do you think about going on your first borrowing trip tonight?” Dorian’s face brightened instantly, his wide, toothy grin spreading from ear to ear. Rey seemed nervous but determined.

“You mean it?” They asked in unison, their tones differing slightly.

“If you feel up to it,” replied Soren. “It won’t be anything too crazy. We’ll take a look and see if there are any odds and ends we need like needles, pins, and nails. If we have time, maybe we can see the kitchen.”

“No way! Our first borrowing trip!” Dorian was beside himself, leaping to his feet and nearly tipping over Rey’s water cap. The sight brought a thoughtful chuckle out of Soren.

“Easy now. I’m going to check out the area first to make sure tonight is a good night. In the meantime, finish your food and lay down to rest. We won’t be able to do anything until later, which means you need some sleep,” reminded Soren. “I’m going to go ahead and check it out. Get some sleep.”

Soren stood and gathered his things. He checked his belongings: hook, thread, tape, pin, mouse cover, bandage cloth. He was just on his way out when Brady came out from around the corner. He was carrying an empty borrowing bag, which wasn’t much of a surprise. Brady tore off a piece of bread and sat nearby. Soren didn’t bother asking where Brady had gone off to; he never answered anyway.

Soren jogged down the passages, listening carefully to the walls. It was afternoon in the human world, meaning the apartments they lived in between were still occupied. The older human was watching her shows. The angry couple was unpredictable, but the woman was usually in the apartment every third day. Thankfully, everything was quiet; almost eerily so.

The dust between the halls clung to the electrical cords and rested against the wooden baseboards. Soren’s eyes adjusted to the minimal light available as he wound his way to the newly occupied apartment. He passed up one passage, then the next. There was a sharp turn where he had to squeeze through two narrow boards to reach the next apartment. The latch he set in place on the ground wall socket was just ahead.

He breathed in deeply and sensed nothing. No sounds of the television. No rumbling footsteps. No pets. No human. Soren pulled the latch free and cracked it slightly, slipping out and crouching. This outlet, unlike others, came out next to the refrigerator. He closed his exit just enough so the human wouldn’t notice at first glance before crouching and inspecting under the fridge.

It was a disaster. There were dust clumps and a few slick spots which were haphazardly wiped clean. Soren kept his side close to the human utility while crouching. The edge of the counter was just in sight. His heart pounded in his chest, but he managed to steady his breathing to keep his head clear. Soren got down on all fours, mouse hood pulled up, and looked out into the kitchen.

The tile under the fridge was just as untidy as the floor in the main rooms. Evidently, this human was not very clean which could work in one of two ways. One being the human didn’t notice anything missing or askew. The complete opposite was possible. Sometimes humans organized their mess in different ways and were very aware when something minor changed. If Soren was correct, they would be safe for the time being.

He spun around the corner to the lip under the floor cabinets and ran in the shadows until he could look into the main room. It was then that his heart stopped. He felt his breath hitch and limbs grow extremely heavy and yet nonexistent at the same time.

There was the human. From where he was crouched, Soren could see the human was sprawled out to their full height on what the humans called a couch. It seemed like the human was asleep, but Soren didn’t want to leave anything to chance. He felt his limbs shaking, both in a sudden shock and in anticipation. Every nerve waited for his command.

He would check later and see if the human was still there. If they didn’t wake up and leave, there was no way he would take his brothers borrowing tonight. Soren turned on his heel and began to make his way back when he heard the shrill beeping of an alarm. Instinctually, he turned to see the human stir, lazily reaching a gargantuan arm toward a phone which rested on the ground a few feet away. Soren couldn’t waist any time. Heart pounding in his chest, he kept to the shadows and sprinted back for the electrical cover behind the fridge. The sound of heavy-set footsteps began to shake the ground, but not before Soren skidded around the corner to safety.

Soren closed the cover behind him and breathed a sigh of relief. The human was awake now but would be getting ready to leave shortly. The timing was going to work well. He made his way back to the camp to find his brothers fast asleep in their beds, their borrowing bags clutched in their hands. Soren couldn’t help but think about how small his brothers looked in that moment; how young and unspoiled they were about the troubles of borrowing. Rey reached up and rubbed his face, yawning in his sleep, before curling into a tighter ball on top of his blankets.

Soren sighed. [We could postpone until tomorrow. Dorian would be disappointed, but they worked really hard today.] He stepped over to his bed, pulled off his top blanket, and draped it over the sleeping forms of his brothers. Stifling his own yawn, he took off his borrowing bag and the mouse pelt from his shoulders before sitting on his bed. [Perhaps resting my eyes for a moment wouldn’t be the worst thing.] Soren thought to himself as he stretched onto his bed and sank into a peaceful sleep.

Continue

Previous

Beginning

#borrower #g/t #gianttiny #giant tiny #tinyhuman #giant world #captured #prepare #brothers #training #be prepared #humans are scary #capture #injured #medical #live for you #living on the edge #original #homebrew

[nakunakunomi]

I think it's the first time I drop something in your ask box ?🤔 Anyway, congrats on the 300 followers! 🥳🎉🎉 So, I had a very hard time choosing a prompt👀 But here we are! Can i ask prompt 23 for Rosinante (Yeah I know, I'm a girl full of surprise 👀)with a fem! reader? You can put it in a Modern!Au setting if it's easier for you ❤ Luv u sweetheart 🥺

Hi babe! I went with in series, to give the softest clown a little in series love, he hardly gets enough love as it is! Due to the nature of the prompt, the story is a little angsty, but no worries, I can spoil a little that the ending is going to be good! I hope you like it and that it satisfies your wonderful Lusinante heart a bit! Much love!

Don’t ever leave again - Donquixote Rosinante (Corazon) x Reader 

Cliche with bae prompt #23: “Tell me why you did it” “because I love you”  Character: Rosinante - Word Count: 1.8k hurt/comfort - angsty with happy ending  ? 

You were in love. Madly in love. Deeply in love. It wasn’t the easiest of relationships. It was all secret. But it didn’t matter to you, because you had never been this happy. 

You couldn’t even remember how you got close to Donquixote Rosinante. You certainly went out of your way to avoid his flamboyant brother. But something in his silence drew you closer. And before you knew, you had discovered his secret, and not long after that, you had uncovered his heart as well. 

The relationship was strange, sneaking around all the time, Devil fruit activated bubbles of silence in order to whisper words of affection. He preferred visiting you in your house, so he could ensure no one would follow him. He never stayed the night, never really stayed long. He never really explained what exactly was going on. Why all the sneaking around had to happen. But you knew the family could be dangerous and refrained from asking too many questions. He had told you himself: the less you know, the less danger you will be in. 

Often times you felt like it would be better to break it off, to let him go. But the mere thought of never being able to see him anymore, him never hugging you to his chest anymore, no more running your fingers through his soft blonde locks, no more kissing as if you were both desperate for the love you never got to experience outside the bond the two of you shared, just crushed your very soul. You’d never be able to leave him. 

So when he came to your house in the middle of the night, urging you to pack your bags, you complied almost immediately. You were going to run away together. Away from his crazy brother and away from all the madness, all the secrecy. You could finally take the next step in your relationship, maybe even settle down together. It was a hectic night, but you fell asleep on the little boat he was using fairly quickly, completely ready for a new start. 

It took you a couple of days to arrive on the island. Rosinante had already picked out and prepared a little house. He had been planning this escape for months it seemed. He had explained very little on the way, being even more quiet than he usually was. He was probably just still very much on the lookout for danger. Even you knew that his brother’s influence was reaching pretty far, his network only growing every single day. 

The best moment came when the both of you finally went to sleep in the house. The comfort of an actual bed, the very first time you could actually sleep in the arms of your boyfriend, listening to the sound of his heartbeat and his soft breaths as you cuddled close, made you fall asleep almost instantly. You had never been happier in your life. 

So you were incredibly surprised to wake up without that presence. Had he gotten up earlier to do something? You listened if you could hear him stumbling around the house but to no avail. He could’ve easily used his devil fruit to sneak around quietly though, so you didn’t think too much of it as you got dressed and made your way downstairs. 

He was nowhere to be seen. Only a letter on the dinner table. You immediately recognized his clear, but messy handwriting. 

Dear y/n. 

I hope you can forgive me for doing this to you, but if you cannot, I will understand. I will never know, because you will never see me again. My brother was growing suspicious and I cannot let my cover be found out just yet. 

I moved you for your own safety. This is a nice island, nice people. I left you some money and food. Start a new life here. Do not seek me out. I beg of you. Our relationship was never meant to be. Besides, you could not love me if you knew all about me. Forget me, start anew. That’s going to make you truly happy. 

Burn this letter after reading, erase all traces and memories of me. It’s for the better. 

- Rosi 

You read the letter over and over and over and over, crying harder every time more of its meaning got through to you. He left you. All alone, away from everything you knew and was never coming back. He never even said he loved you. Your heart was broken, crushed, the pieces shattered, and right now. It felt like it could never be fixed again. 

You managed to adapt to life on the island relatively well. Rosinante had not lied: it was a very nice and welcoming place. In no time you had a job in a small grocery store, helping the elderly couple that owned it with picking up the heavier supplies and selling stuff all around. It was a nice life, and you were generally well accepted in the community. The initial pain of your one true love leaving you behind had subsided, but his absence created a hole that you didn’t think was ever going to be filled again. 

There was not a day you didn’t think about him or the letter he had written. You had burned it, like he had instructed you, but not before memorizing it. Every night in bed, you were thinking about it. It was almost a year after he had left you, and you still did not find peace with this sudden departing. And when you finally managed to fall asleep, he was almost always there in your dreams. Most of the time they were actual dreams, of green grass fields, and cuddles and soft kisses stolen as the two of you lay on the floor (he tripped, you lay down next to him so he wouldn’t be alone). 

Sometimes they were nightmares though, and tonight was such a night. Burning buildings, dark clouds of smoke making your eyes tear up and your breaths heavy,  your lover just out of reach as he left you behind. You, sitting on the ground, unable to move, unable to go after him, tears eventually falling from your eyes. This time around, rain was starting to fall, mixing with your tears as they slowly hit your face, creating even more smoke as the rain unsuccessfully tried to diminish the fires. 

You woke up with an actual wet face. It was raining outside, with pretty heavy winds, and you had forgotten to close your window before bed. You stood up to close the window when the very familiar scent of cigarette smoke hit your nose. You blinked a couple of times, your house was too far away from the village to smell anyone’s smoke, and it was literally the middle of the night. You looked through the open window and noticed a very familiar black feathery coat a step away from your front door.

You sprinted downstairs, not even sure what was happening. Maybe you were hallucinating, maybe even dreaming, but when you opened the door, your heart skipped a beat. There he was again, one finger to his lips, motioning for you to stay quiet. He had a sleeping child in his arms. You let him in, too confused to even speak if you wanted to.

You were not sure how to feel exactly. Your first instinct was joy. So happy that he came back, so happy to see him again, alive and well. But the more you thought about it, the more sad and angry you got about him leaving you behind in the first place. All the grief you went through, and only now you were healing again. You weren’t sure how much your heart could take still, and neither of you had spoken up yet. He put the child on your couch, placing his coat over it as a blanket and creating a silent bubble so the two of you could speak all you want without waking the little boy. 

“Y/n… I…,” he started off, hesitant to continue, not sure if he could ever say something to make it up to you, “I know I probably should’ve said something. But… it was for the best.” He took a breath, wanting to continue, but it was then that your brain finally caught up on the situation and your bubble burst. “Should’ve said something? You lied to me, took me here, promised me love, a life together and then just abandoned me! Far away from my family, my friends, everyone and everything I knew, in the middle of nowhere, all by myself! I didn’t get to say goodbye and we barely spent time together.” Your voice broke halfway through the rant, and you were trying so hard not to cry as you spoke. 

He walked over to you, touching your shoulder in an attempt to comfort you, but you didn’t seem to respond to his touch like you used to. You sank to your knees crying, and continued speaking, although is was barely a whisper.

“Why..?  Why did this happen? Just tell me… why did you do this?” His heart was breaking at the sight of you like that. “Because I love you y/n, always have and always will.” He took a deep breath, sitting down in front of you. Close enough to be reassuring in some kind of way, but not so close that it could possibly make you uncomfortable. 

“My brother would have you killed. Your family too. I had to protect you. I thought, that if I just left without really saying anything, you could forget me and start a happy life. I did mean it when I said you’d be better of without me.”

“I was miserable Rosi. You made me think you never loved me… That hurt so much.” “And I am so so so sorry for that… I’d get it if you’d never want to forgive me.” You shook your head, leaping up a little so you could hug him, and he promptly fell over, having the general balance of an elephant on a unicycle, taking you to the floor with him, thankfully he served as a nice pillow. 

You sobbed as he rubbed your back, comforting circles as you repeated the same words over and over: “Never leave again. Promise me. I love you.”

He gets up a little, still holding you close to his chest, kissing the top of your head.

“I promise. I love you too.” You tilted up your head, and Rosi only had to dip down his for your lips to lock. The kiss was so much more intense than any kiss you had shared in the past. There was so much longing, loving, regret, and pure desperation. No fights for dominance, just your mouths fitting together perfectly as if it hadn’t been over a year. You were out of breath when he broke the kiss, resting his forehead against yours. “There is a lot I still need to do. But I won’t leave without telling. I won’t lie about my feelings. And I promise I will always come back.”

#rosinante x reader #donquixote rosinante #corazon #corazon x reader #One piece #one piece writing #one piece headcanon #one piece imagine #imagine #one piece x reader #headcanon #reader insert #one piece HC #request #HC request #cliche with bae #lusinante #300 followers event #lucynnamonroll

[3laxx]

When the Dream ends - Chapter 3

Luz and Amity have a sleepover and Boscha has a breakdown

TRIGGER WARNING - BLOOD - INJURY - PANIC ATTACK

For everyone who is easily triggered by panic or panic attacks, I recommend not reading any further than the Lumity part of this chapter. You won't need the entire Boscha part, just know she's incredibly distraught and has a lot of confusing emotions about fault and making up for it. She has a full-blown panic attack (actually I wrote myself into one thanks to this) and I recommend continuing on your own responsibility. There will be more on Boscha's state and her feelings on the situation in a calmer and safer scene later on. You won't miss anything if you skip this part. A lot of it was already mentioned in the actual scene of the accident and Amity's nightmare. Boscha's feelings will resurface later on and you will know how she feels in future chapters if you don't feel comfortable reading panic attacks with physical reactions.

I'M SERIOUS. ONLY READ IF YOU FEEL ABSOLUTELY SURE, THERE'S NO SHAME IN NOT READING IT.

Ao3 / FF.net

---

It still took Luz a few days to walk by herself again and she hated every second.

Well, not the seconds when Eda and King were visiting. And she loved every second Amity spent with her. And she also enjoyed all the seconds while Willow and Gus were visiting.

Skara, Cat, and Amelia had also paid her a visit and Luz had enjoyed having them all over. They were gentle and careful around her and even helped her get up once to get some snacks from down the hall, even if Amity had protested them carrying Luz.

In the end, it had been a lot of fun though, and they had giggled all the while two of them carried her to the vending machine and two carried her back by interlocking their hands and having Luz sit on them while wrapping her arms around their necks.

Amity had helped to carry her back and Luz had grinned at her constantly, knowing the girl had needed to warm up to her old friends showing up and not being bullies.

Viney, Jerbo, and Barcus had also shown up for a short visit, and Luz and Amity had coincidentally invited over Edric and Emira at the same time, giggling to themselves when Emira had started flirting with the unamused Viney until she had shot back a flirty line only to leave Emira a hot mess.

So, she guessed she didn’t hate every single second of it.

But the walking, the slow progress, and the lonely nights had been horrible.

When she had finally gotten the permission to leave, she had celebrated, even if Eda had put her under strict supervision over the weekend before letting her back to Hexside. She didn’t mind, though.

Strict supervision usually meant games, snacks, and movies, and having friends over once Eda had to get some stuff, run her business of human phenomena or do undisclosed business at undisclosed places.

So, Luz was super happy to be back in the Owl House over the weekend, naturally. With Eda’s permission, she had quickly invited Amity, Willow, and Gus over, but Willow and Gus had other things on their schedule – something about a forgotten homework and some tunnel Gus was babbling about, even if Luz had thought his tunnel underneath Hexside had already been finished.

Having Amity over was really cool, too. Especially since Eda had already announced she’d be out this evening, so she was looking forward to watching a movie and spending the evening with Amity.

 ---

“So, what do you wanna watch?”, Luz began, already grinning at Amity. The girl just shrugged at that, a small smile on her lips. “Your descriptions were a little-… Enthusiastic. Why don’t we just watch something you wanna watch?”

Luz grimaced at that and then pouted at Amity, causing her to chuckle.

“But I like all of these movies! Giving me the choice would break me!”

Amity immediately pointed at a random cover then, her eyes blown wide. She absolutely didn’t want Luz to break over something like this. The girl laughed.

“Okay, that one. That’s the super cute romance!”

Amity suppressed a sigh. Well, this was going to be easy, right?

She only had to make it through 2 hours of two characters getting together, kissing, building up chemistry, without projecting it onto her and Luz.

Already flushing, Amity pressed herself into the backrest and pulled up the blanket while Luz prepared the movie on her magic box, before returning to the couch as well with quite some effort and sitting close to Amity, close enough so she could steal the other half of Amity blanket.

Yelping, she tried hiding her face, then she looked up.

“… Is that too warm for you?”, the teenager asked her, obviously referring to Amity’s red face, but she quickly shook her head while the movie began, trying a smile.

“N-No! I like that.”

Luz smiled and grabbed the snack box, putting it between their thighs on top of the blanket, then the first scene started playing. A short-haired girl introduced herself, and the human world she was living in, before saying she was different than all the others. She was a lesbian.

Immediately, Amity suppressed rolling her eyes.

Suited her right that she had to pick the gay movie.

Luz already giggled at the introduction, then she turned to Amity, way closer than she had expected, making her blush. She was just glad the lights were dimmed now.

“That’s so cliché. I like this movie, but it stays as shallow with the LGBTQ community throughout.”

Amity tried controlling her blazing face.

“Wh-What do you mean?”

Luz shrugged at that, leaning back again and Amity felt herself relaxing, thankfully, “You know, all the drama about it. In movies like these, it’s a huge deal to be gay, and it’s either the scared, closeted character or the over-the-top gay who acts extra. There’s so much more to LGBTQ than that. I was actually quite glad that homosexuality isn’t as big a deal on the Boiling Isles as it is in the human realm. I don’t think it’s even recognized as different here, is it?”

Amity furrowed her eyebrows at that.

“It’s a problem to like the same gender in the human realm?”

For a few minutes, Luz watched the movie when the introduction was over and the story began, then she sighed and shrugged.

“That’s a topic for another time, I suppose.”, she finally said and Amity softly took her hand. Something in Luz’s words sounded heavy, clouded by something that must’ve happened. Pressing pause, Luz looked over to Amity and she slanted her lips.

“Are you sure?”, she finally asked and the human hummed, then she nodded.

“Yes. Don’t worry, I never had problems with that, because my mother is really open-minded and nobody else knew I was bi. But for many others, it’s a huge problem. It’s even a crime to be gay in some places. You’ll see what’s about it in that movie. Let’s just watch?”

Despite the worrying information about the human realm, Amity couldn’t help but replay that one thing Luz had said all over again in her head, even when the movie started picking up and the story got interesting.

She had hoped that Luz was interested in the same gender as well, even if she hadn’t really minded because, in her home, the different sexualities didn’t really matter. But hearing Luz confirming that she wasn’t straight was a relief, almost.

The longer the movie carried on, with the main character starting to chat with another gay girl online, getting problems keeping their sexuality a secret, and finally, everyone turning away from her when it came out. Amity followed the movie wide-eyed, learning how problematic it apparently was in the human realm, while Luz’s head got heavier and heavier.

She still couldn’t concentrate long on something, partly because of her ADHD but also because of the accident. Her mind needed rest.

When it finally got too much, her head dropped on Amity’s shoulder and she finally relaxed. With her head secured, she adjusted the rest of her body now, wrapping one arm across her lap, then she smiled softly and dozed off.

She couldn’t even notice Amity freezing up and blushing furiously again. And she didn’t see Amity’s eyes widening, or her heart skipping a beat. Sleep had taken her fully, leaving Amity to finish the movie by herself. Even if she found the story compelling, though, she couldn’t exactly concentrate anymore once Luz had fallen asleep on her.

Deciding to finish the movie on her own, Amity just settled against her and smiled softly. This was very nice. And before she knew it, she had fallen asleep as well.

 ---

Finally, it was the weekend and Boscha could be home again.

Away from the curious eyes, away from people asking her how she was, what happened and how Luz was doing. She had mostly relied on her friends to keep her out of the crossfire, something Amelia, Skara, and Cat had more than gladly done, but it had only helped so much. Every single gaze, every single question, reduced her to what had happened about ten days ago. And every single time it brought her back to these moments, minutes, she had spent kneeling in the human’s blood and trying to keep her alive.

Her parents, mostly her father, had been understanding enough to schedule her some emergency therapy sessions, and allowed her to stay out of school for a few days. While the therapy sessions had definitely helped, and she had been able to convince her parents she’d need them for a bit longer, she still felt as though this incident followed her every step.

When she looked out the window to see the forest, when she lied down to sleep, when she got up and when she ate. Throughout her whole day, the memories followed her, bothered her, taunted her.

She had injured Luz this way. She had thrown that ball, and her teammates had tried stopping her. She was at fault, she could’ve had this never happen. She should’ve stopped.

Tiredly, Boscha crawled under her sheets and buried her face in the pillow. This was unbearable.

Injuring another witch like that had never made her feel so guilty. Probably mostly because witches were more durable than humans. They could get back up, their injuries healed faster.

Seeing the human knocked out like this, seeing her bleeding out and dying, had been a rapid change from what Boscha knew.

She knew she had acted right after she had realized what she had done. She knew that she had reacted faster than all of them and that she had done the right thing, giving everyone tasks, avoiding them to slip into shock right there and freeze up. She had done the right thing.

That still didn’t excuse that she had done the wrong thing before. That didn’t make anything better, except that Luz was still alive, and well, as Amity had told her. It didn’t make her suffering better. It didn’t make it easier that she would have to adjust and live with what she had done.

Once again, her eyes burned and she growled. She had been crying a lot these days, something she hadn’t done before. She’d also had a lot of nightmares. Nightmares of the human dying, of everyone blaming Boscha.

She had shot up in bed in a cold sweat and cried, cried all night long until she had fallen asleep for the next nightmare again.

But she couldn’t face Luz yet. She couldn’t face her.

In her memories she was always so grey, surrounded by red, and draining of life. She was so weak and helpless and completely at Boscha’s mercy. Boscha liked bossing people around but, never like this. At her mercy, not responding. Still.

She gulped again.

The human’s soft, raspy breaths when she had leaned down to check for it.

Closing her eyes, Boscha groaned again and shook her head. She had never anticipated this, she had never wanted this. And now she was feeling so sick, so twisted. She had done the wrong thing, then the right, and she felt so guilty for both.

By the first throw, she should’ve already known the human wasn’t playing. She should’ve known the human was in real danger at the very moment she had seen the fear flashing in her eyes. But she hadn’t reacted to that, even liked the fear. Because she never would’ve thought something would actually happen. Nothing had happened to Luz before. Nothing would happen to them, they were just teens, right?

And then it had happened. The sickening crack still shook Boscha to her core. The ball leaving her hand and the crack that had followed when she had crushed Luz’s skull against the stone. The flashbacks were coming again and Boscha curled up under her blanket, baring her teeth.

When the human had been thrown back, her eyes rolling upwards and her torso collapsing in itself as the spine was turned to cracked pebbles. She winced.

Then the blood. She hadn’t registered how the wound looked like at first, but the more her shock faded, the more her brain gave her all the details she had burned into her memories by accident. When she had run over and remembered faintly not to damage Luz’s spine more. When, for a super scary second, her hands had hovered helplessly and she had done nothing.

She still dreaded that moment. It couldn’t have been longer than the blink of an eye but her memory stretched it to hours, unmoving, terrifying hours of dread while she stared down at the broken human, hearing her rasping breaths and letting the shock take over her.

And then that moment ended. When she snapped into action.

Her fingers reaching down finally, feeling as though she had just cracked a cover of ice over her skin when she moved, breaking free of her frozen state. The soft pulse, so weak and fragile, underneath her fingertips, her skin getting slick with the warm blood spilling from the human.

She remembered faintly how her grandmother, as strict as she had been, had been baking with her once. Her grandmother hadn’t taken any shit. Especially not from the spoiled five-year-old brat who hadn’t wanted to knead the dough or do the dishes by hand. She remembered her stepping behind the child and folding up her sleeves, before grabbing her hands and forcing them down into the sticky goo. Telling her, “When you work in the kitchen, you don’t use your fingertips and keep your hands clean. You can wash them after. Now knead it properly, child.”

She had done the same with Luz. Not fearing the blood getting on her, not fearing her hands getting dirty. She had just jumped to action, done the right thing, not minded any blood no matter how thick and slimy and warm it had felt on her hands. As if it was holding onto the skin by which it had been trapped before, begging for a way back in.

Luz had been facing down on the ground, and she would never forget the kind of awkward angle her spine had been in. Even in this lying position, she had seen the dangerous injury she had given the human.

Her eyes had flitted from her back to her fingers on her neck, then up to the back of her head. Where the laceration of the hit was. Boscha felt herself getting sick while her body started shivering uncontrollably.

The wound had been horrifying. She hadn’t paid attention to the details when she had been in the situation, but her mind would never forget. How the hair had been flattened down and dampened by red blood, how it had darkened her hair and flowed down her neck, down her back underneath her uniform, and down the sides of her face. The exposed flesh, something hard and red and-… Dark sitting underneath the pulled-back skin. The cracked skull.

Boscha convulsed, then she pressed a hand to her mouth while a pathetic whimper escaped her throat. She had done this. She had thrown the ball that had the speed to split open skin, crack bones. She heaved, then she finally got up to stumble to her bathroom that was attached to her room, and threw up in the toilet.

She would never forget how it moved. How she watched the wound oozing, how she had watched the skin moving with every slight movement of the human.

And the worst had been that, while Luz had been knocked out completely, her eyes had been half-open. She had seen the pain on the human’s face, the whites of her eyes, and the flitting iris sometimes coming into view when her eyes rolled.

Her knees had been damp, she could still feel it while kneeling in front of the toilet. She mistook the cold tiles beneath her knees as wetness, she was sure. But when she looked down, there was red.

Immediately, her eyes watered, and her torso convulsed again, forcing her to heave on an empty stomach. The blood-soaked pajamas climbed up her legs, and she remembered how her clothes stuck to her after that. No matter how much she had scrubbed when she had gotten home, she would never get rid of the iron smell, or the slight, faint coloring of a darker shade, of the dried, edges of the blood on her pink skin.

Desperately gripping the toilet seat, she leaned the side of her face against the edge and sobbed.

She still remembered how warm her forehead had felt when she had checked for Luz’s breathing. She still knew how it had felt, leaning over the human, pressing her forehead into the pool of blood, and feeling her hair getting dampened by the liquid.

She still remembered the raspy breaths, the heaving, and the blood sticking to her hair and face and getting everywhere. She could still feel the cold air hitting her blood-soaked skin when she had leaned back to bark more instructions, and checked Luz’s pulse again. The droplets out of her hair, running down her head, around her ears, down her temples and nose, getting in her eyes and mouth and tasting like iron.

She faintly remembered not wiping it away.

And Amity’s screaming. Her insults, the despair. Titan, the love from that girl. Boscha was glad she had instructed Amelia to trap her in a cage. But that hadn’t made her screams easier to bear, her screams that had morphed into the voice inside Boscha’s head that had been pestering her ever since that accident had started sinking in.

Finally, when they had turned Luz around and Boscha had done her best not to look at the wound, the skull moving when they moved her, her breaths coming to a stop. The sudden silence after the raspy, uneven breaths.

She had leaned down and listened and had heard it, heard Luz’s last breath in another reality, had she not started CPR. She was just glad she was on the grudgby team and everyone suspected harsh injuries in that sport.

It was completely uncommon in the demon realm to perform CPR because either the body of a witch or demon was fast enough to recover or there simply wasn’t enough left to perform CPR on. Boscha was one of the few people in the school, including some teachers, the healing track students, and the grudgby players to even know that practice.

It had been deafening.

Even tuning out Amity’s screams and sobs, and her own intrusive thoughts.

The sudden break had shocked Boscha more than she had anticipated. She only knew breathing. She had known it when her father had held her as a child, she had known it with her sister, and her friends sleeping over and breathing in their sheets while Boscha had lied awake. She had known breathing from Amity, from her panic attacks when they had gotten older, the hyperventilation, and the quickening breaths she had let out. She knew it from Amity when they curled up together, seeking each other’s comfort in their mothers’ competition. She had known breathing in her first kiss, and in the silence of a classroom during an exam. There was always breathing around her.

Hell, some houses in the Boiling Isles were breathing.

And yet, Luz had stopped.

It had been unnerving, understanding that the human had just stopped breathing. Her brain wouldn’t work it out until way later, in the situation she had known it was bad and had known what to do.

But now that she was pushing away from the toilet and leaning against the wall next to it, crying and sobbing hysterically into her arms?

She understood what it had meant, beyond bad.

It had meant Luz had just been moments from her death. She doesn’t think anyone but Skara, who had heard it, too, knew what that had meant. Willow had only sat on Luz’s feet and heard and understood what Boscha had said, but she hadn’t watched the sudden drainage of life from Luz’s face, she hadn’t noticed the forced lifting and sinking of her chest stopping under her hand and she hadn’t heard her last breath.

She hadn’t felt the pulse under Boscha’s fingertips weakening, hiccupping, stopping. Then restarting, before stilling again.

But Boscha had, Boscha had felt and heard and noticed it all, and she had realized what that had meant. Someone had jokingly told her once, that the soul of a being left its vessel with the last breath. Boscha had seen Luz’s last breath, she had seen the life fleeting from her body so fast that she had been scared that she wouldn’t be fast enough.

Letting out a feral scream, Boscha buried her head on her knees and clamped her arms over her head. The world vanished in static when the panic attack took full hold of her now. Her fingertips were uncomfortably pulsing and itching under her skin, mockingly, reliving the feeling of Luz’s pulse getting too weak for her to feel anymore, reminding her of the sudden lack of life.

She knew Luz hadn’t died at that moment, she knew it took a moment still, but it had certainly felt like it.

Her socks kicked against the floor in a desperate attempt to make herself smaller, press her back harder against the tiled wall, and the itching in her fingertips spread to her knuckles, to her palms and wrist, and down her lower arms. Suddenly, she had to get the sleeves off. Ripping her arms off her head, she tried rolling her sleeves up in unpracticed, frantic movements, starting to scratch her skin to get rid of the uncomfortable itching, but it wouldn’t stop. The blood was soaking her skin, the red was crawling up and the itching got worse until she finally ripped her shirt off and started rubbing over her arms, up and down and not noticing that she scrubbed it sore, turning it red, much lighter than the human’s blood.

How the wound on the back of Luz’s head hadn’t stopped bleeding, and how wet it had sounded, Luz’s head rolling around despite Skara’s grip on her to keep her crushed spine straight enough for Boscha to perform CPR. How stupid Boscha had been not to cover the wound. Had she even been supposed to? She didn’t even know now.

Another scream ripped through her throat and she squinted her eyes, biting her teeth together so hard it hurt, while her arms were still working over her biceps, shoulders, and whatever she could reach of her back. She saw the human convulsing, her belly rising and falling with each violent push she had given her chest, compressing the air that was left. As if she was breathing but not quite.

How stale and like iron her lips had tasted when she had blown air into her mouth, hoping so badly that she hadn’t suffered a wound in there somewhere so Boscha wouldn’t force blood into her lungs.

Amity’s screams had become one with the voice in her head, screaming at her to do better than what she had done.

And then, nothing anymore.

When Luz had been gone, and the storm in Boscha’s head had calmed down, the static had died out in the silence. Amity’s weak sobs, Willow’s soft reassurances, and Skara’s and Amelia’s shocked breaths, hitching every now and then when they collapsed in emotional and mental exhaustion.

Boscha whimpered and sobbed more, still rubbing over her arms frantically and still trying to push herself further into the wall.

Suddenly, she heard footsteps, fast footsteps approaching, and the door to her bathroom flew open. Before she knew what was happening, her mother’s arms were around her and her father kneeled in front of her. His expensive business pants got soaked in blood, so much blood that was covering all the floor, Luz’s blood. Boscha whimpered again, when her mother pulled her in, when her father flushed the toilet and sat down beside her as well, his arms wrapping around her cooling back, keeping her away from the wall just a little at least.

She managed to control her crying and whimpering the best she could, softly sobbing now, and felt her mother’s unruly hair on her neck and her nose in her hair.

Her parents held her close, not even caring that she didn’t have a shirt on, and as soon as she had calmed down a little at least, her father started soaking toilet paper in cold water to soothe her burning skin. She felt her mother chastising him, but he was so helpless, and Boscha didn’t want him to stop. Plus, it did help.

Sighing, she finally relaxed into her mother’s embrace and felt her father softly drying her arms again, then she was coaxed up by him, and led back into her room. She barely felt her mother lifting her arms and covering her with the shirt again. It was on backward, but it wasn’t important.

Her father scooped her up in his arms and started carrying her outside, causing a slight, irritating call from his wife, but he just spoke back in a calm voice before carrying her out. Her head was rested against his chest and she heard his heart beating.

Vaguely opening her eyes, she saw that he was aiming for her parents’ bedroom. Looking behind, she saw her mother closing the door to her room and carrying her blanket, before following them.

This was a privilege she would not pass up. Being able to sleep in her parents’ bed at least for tonight. Her parents believed in independence much like Amity’s, but she knew they had her back if something happened.

And if it left their daughter traumatized, they would move mountains for her. In the caring department, her parents weren’t that bad, even if there was mostly discipline in it, but the loving didn’t come too short in exceptional situations. She supposed this was one.

Her father lowered her down in the middle of the bed and kissed her forehead, before crawling in in his side and getting under his blanket, while wrapping his arm around her waist and keeping her close. Boscha managed an exhausted smile, then she felt a gust of wind, and her blanket sunk down on her before she felt her mother getting into bed as well and adding her arm around Boscha’s waist as well. She knew her mother wasn’t the most affectionate type, but she appreciated the effort she had put in today.

It was much needed.

With her father’s breath deepening, and her mother’s humming, she slowly felt herself getting drowsy and falling asleep. She had a feeling she’d have a nightmare tonight again.

But maybe, just maybe, she’d be exhausted enough not to dream at all.

And maybe the presence of her parents would also help her through this.

---

I will go now and uh. Calm down.

#toh #the owl house #amity blight #luz noceda #fanfic #lumity #boscha #panic attack #trigger warning #panic #angst #my work

[sweetchup]

Hi!! If your ask box is open, could I get a fluffy kurapika x reader? Just something very gentle and soft and maybe some cuddles bc kurapika deserves lots of loving!! Thank you so much!!

Wild Berry Pie

Type: Kurapika x Reader

Au?: None

Word Count: 2,300+

Warnings: None

“Hold on what?!?” You shout; surprise. Hold up, Why should you be surprised? This was Kurapika you were talking about. But seriously? You were going to scold your boyfriend so hard for only sleeping a total of 15 hours this whole week, getting himself injured (thankfully he could heal himself but still), working himself to death and, on top of that, this was all after recovering from a really bad sickness.

Melody hushes you as the other patrons of the cafe turn and glare at you. You let out a small squeak of an apology at them before returning to sipping on your drink, all the while mumbling, “Kurapika… what the heck were you thinking...”

“I’m sorry (y/n)-Chan. I didn’t mean to get you worked up, I just wanted to let you know.”

You look at Melody in front of you, the woman was looking down at her drink in shame. She knew it wasn’t her fault that Kurapika wasn’t taking care of himself but she felt bad for not telling one of her closest friends and Kurapika’s girlfriend, (y/n), sooner. You shake your head, giving a small smile. “Please It’s not your fault he’s acting this way. I’ve been gone for a while and I shouldn’t have left in the first place, I mean I kind of expected this. He’s practically been out of it since York New. Plus, on top of that, he has the amount of stress Nostrade is putting on him due to Neon losing her Nen.”

Melody gives a smile at the girl in front of her. No wonder Kurapika was in love with her. (Y/n) was not only pretty on the outside but also on the inside. Her voice was so soft and heartwarming, it could calm the harshest of storms and also act like a nice warm campfire on a cold bitter night. The smile (y/n) produced, even the smallest of ones, was practically contagious and definitely lit up a room. And her heart, oh her heart, produced such a loving melody. It sung with all her compassion for her comrades, friends and even the well-being of some strangers.

She practically was the light of hope in Kurapika’s life. The small thing that he knew could give him some purpose after all his revenge plans were done. Sure, it would be hard for him, very hard in fact, to figure something out when everything’s all done. But he knew that (y/n) would be there right next to him, never ever thinking of leaving him behind.

“Oh, (y/n)-Chan are you okay?” Melody says concerned as you suddenly stand up. You look at the women in the eyes, yours gleaming with determination.

“I know exactly what to do! Kurapika has an early shift tonight and a late one tomorrow so I’ll make him something special tonight. To get him to relax.”

Melody giggles. Oh how kind you were. “That would be perfect (y/n)-Chan.”

Ecstatic, (y/n) pays for their drinks, giving melody a small ‘thank you' and waves as she rushes out the door. Melody waves back before returning to her drink. Looking at the tea cup, she starts thinking back, back to York New, back to the Nostrade Mansion, Back to the hunter exam, back to that one tragic night and finally thinking of now, on how thankful she was of (y/n) and —

Melody is suddenly startled out of her thoughts as (y/n) slides to the table, almost slipping past her. The girl is clearly tired since she is sweaty and out of breath. Melody blinks a couple of times, unsure of what happened to (y/n).

“M-melody? Do you happen—happen to have the keys to the dorms-s”

Melody blinks some more before breaking out in laughter. Oh how silly (y/n) could be.

—————————

“And…. Done!”

You let out a sigh and stretch your back. It was hard work getting all this done but it was definitely worth it. Putting your hand on your hips you take in the living room in front of you. The Tv was on with a classic comedy movie, ready to be started. Part of the floor and coach was covered head to toe in different blankets, stuffed animals and pillows to lounge on. Then there was the coffee table, which held many sweets, snacks and drinks and finally the main course of it all….

“(Y-y/n)?” A voice says behind you. Spinning around you see Kurapika taking his shoes off with his bag dropped on the floor. He looked amazed as he looked at the set up in front of him.

“Surprise!” You shout, running up to your boyfriend and giving him a hug. Pulling away you boop his nose, “I thought you needed it especially after I heard you weren’t taking care of yourself. Hmph! How many times do I have to tell you to get a good amount of sleep?!”

Kurapika lets out a small smile at you. “Sorry I’ve been very bus—“

“No buts Mister kurapika” you say, poking his chest. “You're so stubborn sometimes. That’s why I have to come and make you chillax~.”

He lets out a small chuckle as you pull him towards the pile of pillows. Though he soon takes your hand off his arm before you can make him sit. “I’m sorry you had to go through so much trouble but I actually have to get some work done.”

“W-What? Did you not hear what I just said?!” You say. Kurapika looks away from you. This idiot. You bring your hands up to his face, forcing him to look at you. “Kurapika you need to rest. You—“

“(Y/n) I’m sorry I need to get this done.” He says in a firm voice, pulling your hands off his face as he walks away. He was longer playing around and you knew if you continued you could anger him. Clenching your teeth you raised your voice a little bit.

“Kurapika if this is about the spiders it can wait!”

He snaps his head around.

“Excuse me?” He says with a dangerous low voice.

“I said if this is about the spiders it can w—“

“What do you know? Huh?!” Kurapika says furious. He stalks towards you and backs you up against the wall. You choke up as you lock eyes with his scarlet ones, “You still have everything! Your family! Your childhood! Your best friend! I got mine all taken away. What do—“

“I DON’T!” You shout. Stopping him dead in his tracks as he sees a tear go down your face. He was so exhausted and out of it that he had taken his anger out on you. This wasn’t right and he knew he needed to calm down. Wiping the tears off your face you continue, “I don’t understand. I don’t think I ever will but I don’t want you to end up destroying yourself!”

“That’s not your job (y/n). It’s non—“

“It is because I love you. It’s my job as your girlfriend, your lover, to look after your well being Kurapika! I would be a horrible one if I didn’t ever try.”

Both of you are silent for a second after your final outburst. A thick awkward silence. You and Kurapika like to deal with your problems through discussions so this was quite rare for you two to have an argument. Even if this one was small, you didn’t know how to react or feel. When you gulped or took a breath too long you felt like you were adding to the tension by making too much noise. You go to apologize but Kurapika cuts you off by giving you a small kiss on the forehead. “I know you do. I just... you know it’s my goal to avenge them, you know?”

Wrapping his arms around you, Kurapika pulls you into a hug. The soft scent of cologne on him fills your senses, making you relax.

After a couple of minutes you two pull away and both give each other a small smile.

“We both lost our cool huh?” Kurapika says, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yeah.” You say quietly, “Can you take a small break though? Just for tonight? I’m just concerned you’ll get hurt or sick again.”

Kurapika sighs and thinks for a second. He decides it was ok to take a break for just one night, he nods his head in affirmation. Smiling, you mischievously tackle him onto the coach. Kurapika groans as you land and peck his cheek.

“Ugh you are heavy. Get off” He says; jokingly.

Your mouth falls open in surprise. “Excuse me?!”

Determined to get back at him for the insult you cuddle him closer and attack his face with kisses. Kurapika, his face bright red, tries to move away from your barrage of affection. You let out a giggle as you pull away, you had completely forgotten you had put on a little lipstick so he had many stained kiss marks all over him. Even one smudge on the corner of his lips.

He raises an eyebrow as you use a phone and take a picture of him. Laughing you turn it around, showing him. Letting out a groan he covers his face, embarrassed.

“(Y/n)!” Kurapika whines, “Delete that!”

“No~~” You whine back, leaning yourself onto his chest.

For the next hour, you two enjoyed each other's presence. Laughing with mouths full of popcorn at the cheeky comedy. Creating small talk, well attempting, while chewing on some toffee. Sharing sweet small kisses and loving stares in between the movie scenes. It was a wonderful and perfect night.

Lightly, you groom your fingers through Kurapika’s soft golden locks as he lays asleep on your stomach. You felt relieved that the Kurta male is sleeping and will hopefully no longer be exhausted when he wakes up. Speaking of Kurta, you look at the covered dish in the center of the table. You didn’t reveal the main course of tonight to him. You sigh. Oh well, you can’t do much about it now.

“What’s wrong, habib albi?” Kurapika mumbles into your shirt.

“O-oh I thought you were asleep.” You say, blushing. You were a sucker for Kurapika talking in his native tongue, even though you only understood some of the simple things. It especially made you melt when it came to him calling you pet names or giving you small compliments. He once told you your pet name ‘habib albi’ roughly translated to ‘love of my heart’.

He hums and sits up. “Don’t change the subject.”

You sigh, standing up. Walking over to the coffee table. “Ok but don’t freak out, ok?”

Grabbing a hold of the cover, you lift it up. Revealing a pie underneath.

“(Y-y/n) is that-t?”

“I know you don’t like me looking through your stuff from your village but I remember you mentioning that your mother used to make you your favorite Wild Berry Pie whenever you were stressed. So I thought It counted as an exception.”

You suddenly feel Kurapika pull you into his lap. Looking up you see Kurapika with a small smile along with a couple of stray tears rolling down his face.

“K-kurapika I’m sorry! I didn’t mean for you to be upset.” You reach up and carefully wipe the tears off his face. He soon stops you.

“I’m not. Don’t worry habib albi, I’m not.” He squeezes you closer to him, “I’m actually happy. How did you do it though?”

“Oh! Umm I took one of the old dictionaries you had and looked through the Kurta recipe books until I found the Wild Berry Pie. It’s not exact since we don’t have the same ingredients as the Lukso Province but I got it as close as I could.”

“Ah I see. That sounds very hard to do.” Kurapika says chuckling.

“Yeah it was” You say, leaning over and sighing as you remember the grueling three hours it took to figure out and make. You suddenly sit up, “A-ah do you want me to grab you a slice?”

Kurapika nods his head and you excitedly get up and cut a slice. You had taken so much time in it you wanted it to be perfect. As you lifted it and put it on a plate you sighed, relieved. It had come out perfect. Due to the cover, the pie was still warm and fresh, the right time to eat it at. The crust was a perfect golden color and thankfully not soggy. The wild assortment of berries you added had started to ooze out onto the plate, leaving a nice purple-reddish trail and a pleasant aroma.

You felt proud of your accomplishment and sat back in kurapika’s lap. Now was the ultimate test. Handing him a fork, you watch in grueling anticipation as he takes a bite. Blankly he slowly chews and swallows, causing you to gulp. You messed it up didn’t you? He finally turns and looks at you. Finally, he gives you a wide smile, the first big smile in a while.

“My 'um would be proud.”

You let out a loud ‘yay’ in happiness and kurapika holds you close. You were beyond the moon in happiness that he had said his mom would be proud of your pie. Your pie!

“(Y/n)” You look towards Kurapika’s call to see a fork in front of your face, holding a piece of the pie, “Say ahh~”

You open your mouth and he feeds you the piece. Chewing, you moan at the taste. It was absolutely delicious. Each berry was exploding with a unique flavor. Which ends up creating a sweet blend with the right bit of tartness.

Looking up at Kurapika, you watch as he takes another bite. All the while still smiling. Tonight and every other date were amazing but nothing and you mean nothing was as perfect as seeing this. Kurapika with a wide smile on his face.

You would definitely have to make this pie again.

#hxh #hunter x hunter #scenarios #hxh scenarios #kurapika #kurapika kurta #fluff #hxh fluff #hunter x hunter fluff #hxh kurapika #kurapika x reader