#I love the ideas of each braided object having a meaning behind it for when they can't use words or if they're fighting | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

h0nology · 2 years ago

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The Metkayina Way

Neteyam x Metkayina!Reader

warnings: mentions of mating, war, fighting, death, swearing, violence, crying, angst, death threats. lmk if i missed anything.

happy ending here.

It was a little past eclipse, you and Neteyam still sat in the same place. Your back was against a tree and his head was in your lap as you ran your hands through his braids, you made a mental note to yourself that they needed to be touched up soon. The two of you had sat there, talking about any and everything, avoiding the scolding you’d get from your parents when you returned.

“Once we are mates,” Neteyam grabs your hand, “I will bring you to the forest, to meet Mo’at and everyone I grew up with.”

“I would love that, Nete.”

You were willing to go anywhere he goes, you always wanted to see other parts of your world. You could only imagine how beautiful the forest was.

“Where are we going to raise the kids?” Neteyam chuckled, looking up at you.

“Um…” You trailed off, locking your eyes on his. It was a good question, maybe too soon but still a good one, “I do not know, we will figure that out when the time comes.”

“No time soon though.” He laughs again, “Definitely not.” You join in.

Oh, but you couldn’t wait. You couldn’t wait to spend your life with him. Kiss him, hold him, whenever you wanted. Create a family with him, raise them wherever you guys decide on in the future. Neteyam couldn’t wait either, staring up into your ocean eyes, getting lost in them. He wanted nothing but to make you his, right now, right here but he respects your wishes.

The two of you sat there until dusk, finally coming to an agreement to head back to your families. Once you two parted ways you walked to your pod, opening the flap to see your family gathering for breakfast.

“I will not even ask where you have been.” Your mother says, “Eat child.”

You sat in between your siblings, picking at the variety of fruit and other things in front of you. The pod was silent, the only words being exchanged were a few between you and your siblings, but the tension in the room could be cut with a knife.

“You look tired.” Ao’nung looks over your face, he wasn’t trying to be funny, he genuinely noticed how your face isn’t lighten up how it usually is, “And you look like a skxwang.” You retort.

Ao’nung laughs, “I was not trying to be mean. Do you want me to cover training for today?”

“Why would I let you do such a thing?”

“That is the best idea.” Your mother buds in, “You need rest.”

Ao’nung does a victory laugh, popping some berries in his mouth before hopping up and grabbing his weapons.

“Thank you, mother.” He says, “Tsireya, I will need your help setting up.”

You look at Tsireya, who is already slightly smiling at you, “You do look tired, sister.”

After the two left you finished up your breakfast and laid in your hammock, it was weird to be laying down at this time of day, you're usually already out beginning yours. But your mother insisted you rested and that it was important, especially with the days to come. It had taken you awhile, tossing and turning back and forth but a few moments later you were able to fall into your slumber.

You emerge from the water, calling for the figure in front of you. You had been following behind them for some time down, for some reason you were infuriated, your chest felt tight and you wanted nothing but to put your hands on them. Loc’s. Much shorter than yours and golden. Their hair swung in front of you as you followed behind them on the beach, blood dripping from their hands onto the sand. You called for the figure but it only ignored you, moving further away with each step you took. You screamed, throwing objects that only bounced back, not a scratch made. You fell to your knees, defeated, putting your head in your palms. Once your breathing regulated and you removed your hands, you were back on the rock. The same rock where the lifeless body and muffled faces and voices were.

“No. No, please. No, no, no.” You began to stammer.

“Wake up, my child.”

You screamed, jumping up from your sleep only to be taken into your mother's arms.

“Shh, my child.” Your mother soothes you, “They are only getting worse, which means it is near. You have the gift of a blessing and curse, my sweet child.”

“I do not want the gift.” You cried, “I know, but she has already chosen.” She rubs your back.

Your mother sat there and soothed you like you were a baby all over again, rocking you back and forth as she whispered prayers to you. She sat there with you until you calmed down, wiping your face full of tears for you.

“Now come, my child. Your father is about to make an announcement.” She wipes your face one last time before helping you out your hammock.

You walk out your pod to see the members of your clan gathering at where he usually holds all his meetings, you and your mother approached the crowd, making your way to stand by your father. Soon your siblings joined you, standing beside you confused on as to what was going on.

“I have a wonderful announcement to make.” Your father yells at the crowd, you knew what he was about to say but you couldn’t tell that he was genuinely happy, “My eldest daughter. Next powerful tsahìk! Is to be mated with Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk’itan!”

Tsireya hugs your waist as Ao’nung looks at you, somewhat in disbelief but he saw it coming.

“That skxwang is family now.” You tease Ao’nung.

You looked in the crowd for him, his eyes were already on you when you found him, shooting you the biggest smile you’ve ever seen.

“Despite the good news, there are serious matters we must address.”

The smile dropped from your face, Tsireya’s grip loosened on you as she focused on what your father was saying.

“The sky people have killed one of our spirit sisters and her child!” Your father yells, “There is a war upon us, it is coming sooner than I thought. We will fight against the sky people!”

Your father went on, Jake soon joining him as the members of the clan chanted and yelled. Tsireya began to cry, head falling on her shoulder as you comforted her, sneaking in a few chants here and there.

“This is not the time to be scared, Tsireya. You have to be brave, strong.” You cuffed her face and she nods, tears still streaming down her face.

“You must go and prepare the healing pods.” Your mother approaches you and Tsireya, “Yes mother.” You comply, getting up quickly and running over towards the healing pod.

Once you entered the pod, you laid out a few mats and grabbed the medicine and ointment made out of herbs and set them up for easy use. A few minutes went by and as you were finishing setting up, you noticed commotion outside the tent. Yelling and bodies running back and forth, you jumped to your feet, rushing out the pod to see what was happening.

“Our kids are out there, we have to go. Now!” You heard Jake say before summoning a Ilu.

You heart began to pound out your chest as you ran to your pod, grabbing your spear and running to the water, calling for Eymei. You jumped on her and sped through the water, taking a different direction than everybody else was going. You quickly rode through the water, trying to locate your siblings. It didn’t take you long to find them, all of them except Kiri and Neteyam were tied to the boat.

“Come on, girl.” You spoke to Eymei, the two of you going deep underneath the water, getting as close to the boat as possible.

Up.

You and Eymei emerged from the surface, soaring up into the air. All eyes were on you as you yelled in midair, positioning your spear to kill. Your spear pierced right through the demon's chest as you landed, you pulled it out and threw it at the next one you saw. You spared nobody, killing each and every one who came in your sight. Once they were all gone, you put your spear back on your back in it’s holder and grab the knife from your thigh, running over to Tuk first, cutting her free. You proceeded down the line, cutting the material and pushing them to safety.

“Where is Kiri and Neteyam?” You yell at the group, “I have not seen them–” Lo’ak started.

The boys' sentence was cut short when the boat tilted in the opposite direction, causing all of you to slide. You grabbed ahold of Tuk, holding her tight in your arms. Your back crashed against something, taking most of the impact as the boat fell back into place. Just as you were about to get up and tell them to keep moving, they were being tied up again.

“Nice try.” A man says, snatching Tuk from you.

You jump to your feet, just to be restrained from behind. You struggled to free yourself as you notice the man getting rough with Ao’nung and Lo’ak.

“Do not fucking touch them!” You hissed, “You’re a feisty one, I see. This must be your brother, huh?” The man pulls his knife out.

You let out a horrifying scream, biting whoever restrained you.

“You bitch!” They had finally let go, you quickly stabbed them with the knife and made your way over towards the man, but he was on the ground within seconds, arrow in his head.

“Teyam!” Tuk yelled, looking at her brother who had just jumped up on the boat.

“Stealing my vocabulary,” He yells, looking over at you as he cut you guy’s siblings free, “I love it.”

“We have to leave, now!” You ignored Neteyam’s comment, gathering your siblings and Tuk.

“We have to save Spider, He’s in there.” Lo’ak yells, picking up the foreign weapon, “Lo’ak.” Neteyam sighs.

“We cannot leave him.”

Neteyam shakes his head and begins to walk with his brother.

“Neteyam!” You yelled from where you were about to exit, but he kept walking, “Neteyam! Do not!”

He whips around and runs towards you, the others were already in the water waiting for you to jump in.

“I will return, my love.” He assures you, “Please. Take our siblings to safely, I will meet you back on the island.”

“Neteyam, please.” You begged, and with that he pushes you off the boat, going to catch up with Lo’ak. He knew you’d try and stay and fight with him, and he didn’t want to risk anything.

You were furious with him as you plopped down into the water, but you snapped back to reality. You had a job to do, make sure your siblings and his were safe. You called for Eymei, as the rest called for more Ilu’s. You kept Tuk with you the whole time, leading the group.

As you continued to pass through, something blocked your way. Two of them. Some type of technology the sky people had created, you signal for the group to go over them, but they were quick, zooming at you. You made Tuk go with Ao’nung and Rotxo before taking your spear from its carrier, telling Eymei to move forward. You got as close as possible before throwing the spear through the shield that protected the demon, you pulled it out and looked for the other that had disappeared. You feel commotion behind you, quickly turning around to see the other quickly approaching you, shooting bullets in your direction.

Then blood. Not yours, not from the demon you were after. It came from below, your queue disconnected from Eymei’s as you began to sink lower into the water. The demon in front of you paused, studying your face and immediately became horrified from what he saw in front of him. You break the glass with your spear, aiming it right at his throat. Once the job was done, you look at the water below you, Eymei’s body slowly sinking down. You followed after her, trying any and everything to prevent the inevitable. She was already gone before you had even gotten to her, you let out a scream, bubbles forming all around you. Eymei has been with you since the beginning, she was the first you ever rode and now she was your last.

The hand on your back startled you for a moment, until Ao’nung appeared in front of you.

“Sister, we have to go.”

“Eymei.”

“I am sorry.” He looked down at Eymei then back to you, “But they have Tsireya, we have to leave.”

“What?!” You signed, looking in every direction for your little sister.

Rotxo handed you your spear and the four of you swam back to surface.

“You two, take Tuk! Get back to the island!” You yelled, “I cannot leave you out here!” Ao’nung argued.

“You will.”

Ao’nung wanted to argue with you on this one, he didn’t want to leave you out here alone, especially after what had just happened but the look you were giving him right now meant you weren’t having it with him.

“I see you, sister.” Ao’nung said, you were taken back for a short second, he hasn’t said it since you two were little, “I see you, Nung.” You shoot him a sad smile before turning the opposite way and diving under water.

You called for another Ilu, riding back towards the direction of where you came from. Eclipse was soon, and you began to panic, not only because you were about to lose your sight, but this is exactly how it went down in your occurring dream. You searched for any sign of anybody, it’s like you were stranded. You kept moving though, in hopes of finding your sister. Your journey was longer than you expected, and you feared you’d be too late by the time you finally reached her. Your mind was going in a million directions. Ao’nung, Rotxo and Tuk. Tsireya. Neteyam. You wish you all just stayed together during this whole thing, that you all went back after the incident on the boat. As much as it frustrated you, you have to push it down, and ignore it. For now. The only thing you needed to be worried about was finding Tsireya.

Eclipse had come, you were now under the water, swishing your way through. You felt useless at this point, slowing down because of the pain in your back. How were you supposed to protect when you cannot even find who you are supposed to be protecting? All you could do was ride, ride until you found something. And that’s what you did, though you weren’t expecting to find your brother, Rotxo and Tuk again, not after you told them to go back to the island. You jumped off the Ilu and swam down towards them, the three mesmerized by what was in front of them.

“I told you to go back.” You pull Ao’nung to look at you, “We found Kiri.” He signed back, pointing in front of you.

You were confused at first when you looked at the girl, trying to figure out exactly what she was doing. Then it hit you. Her gift. You knew she had one but couldn’t quite figure out what it was. All the girl had to do was move her hands and those same machines from earlier were tangled in the large sea anemones, you watched as the demons floated into the water, about to step in until they were being pulled into the anemone as well. It didn’t stop with them, more plopping down into the water out of nowhere, way too many for her to handle.

You swam in her direction, pulling your spear from your back once again, you found it easier to get closer to them but that didn’t work this time. The machine clamping onto your leg and pulling you down, it almost felt like they were trying to rip it off. You struggled to get a good aim at what was pulling you, beginning to pull you in the opposite direction. Ao’nung tried to swim after you, but the machine was moving too fast, Kiri finally noticed what was happening, sending the machine crashing into the nearest rock. Your body jerked due to the sudden impact, but the grip on your leg finally loosened. Ao’nung was able to reach you, putting your arm over his shoulder as he pulled you up.

“Your leg.” He signed, “We have to get you back.”

You look down at your bruised leg, it even hurt to move it but you weren’t going back.

“I will go back when I find Tsireya and I know that the others are okay.”

Ao’nung shook his head in frustration, he thought he was the stubborn one. He pulled up you up to the surface, pulling you to go with him.

“I will not let you kill your self!” He yelled, “Ao’nung, I will not tell you again. Go. I do not know what I would do with myself if something happened you. Either of you.” You look in between him and Rotxo.

He was about to speak up but a loud explosion cut him off, a big fire appearing above the water.

“Go now.” You pushed him, before diving back under to Kiri and Tuk.

You told them the direction to go, slowly but surely following behind the two. Your leg was slowing you down, so was your back but you continued to swim. As you three approached the boat, ready to see whatever was going on, it collapsed. Somehow it managed to flip, multiple bodies falling into the water, soon being stuck underneath the boat.

Oh, great mother.

It was always something setting you back from doing the one thing you needed to do. You swam down to the glowing part of the water, grabbing the Txampaysye and attaching it to Tuk’s back to provide oxygen for her, Kiri took it upon herself to attach one to her back as you did the same. Just in case you ran into anybody who needed it more than you. You motioned for the two to come to you, but Kiri was too caught up in the little glowing fish.

“I think I can do something with them. Go, I will find you.”

Tuk stayed with Kiri as you made your way towards the boat, looking for an entrance. You were able to pull some things apart, breaking your way in. You swam, and swam, holding onto things trying to keep you going. More of the boat began to collapse, you noticed the water began to rise even more as the boat sunk.

You noticed a slender torso struggling to stay above the surface, legs kicking for a minute until they stopped completely. You pull yourself using the broken pieces of whatever, you didn’t have long. You were losing your strength. You reached the body, soon recognizing it to be Neytiri, the familiar beaded clothing catching your eye.

“Take this.” You emerged to the water, startling her a bit in the process, you take the Txampaysye and attached it to her back, “It will help you breathe under water.”

You grab her hand and pull her underneath the water, guiding her in the direction you had come from. Or at least where you thought you came from, your mind was beginning to scramble, your body becoming weaker and weaker every time you moved. Neytiri looked at you with concern, grabbing your shoulder to stop you from moving.

“I am okay.”

Your signing didn’t go through to her, she furrowed her eyebrows at you and shook her head. You shook it off, assuring her that you were fine as you continued to swim in the water, trying to find any way out. Just as you were about to give up your search, the same little glowing fish from earlier started to appear, Kiri and Tuk appearing behind them. You smiled, letting Neytiri go in front of you to reunite with her daughters. Though you smiled, you wished it could’ve been you. Reuniting with your sister, who’ve you yet to find.

You guys follow Kiri out of the sinking ship, going out to the clear where you could go back to the surface.

“Thank you.” Was the first thing Neytiri said to you, hand cupping your cheek as she looked at you, almost like she wanted to cry, “You need to head back now, you are hurt.”

Your eyes swelled with tears; you knew you couldn’t go on any longer. Your body was giving up on you, you ached terribly.

“I have to find my sister.”

“She is fine, with Lo’ak.” She nods, “Please, go.”

You felt a wave of relief over your body, knowing your sister was safe. You nodded at Neytiri, obeying her orders and you called for an Ilu. They helped you on, making sure you were fine before you began to ride off.

Dawn was approaching, your mind was so scrambled, it’s like time wasn’t real at the moment. Everything had happened so fast, it was starting to mash all together, leaving you in a dazed state. You began to slow down on the Ilu, leaning forward on it, trying to allow your body to rest. Your head was against it’s, floating through the water, eyes fluttering as you looked at the waves hit the rocks ahead of you.

You almost drifted into a slumber, it’s truly what your body needed but your eyes opened when you saw commotion on the rock ahead of you. You squinted your eyes, slowly moving forward to see what was going on. Golden loc’s, much shorter than yours, pulling the dream walker out the water. The same man that had started this great war, the demon had saved him. You weren’t close enough to hear what they were saying to each other, their conversation being cut short as the demon jumped into the water and the dream walker flying off on a Ikran.

You sunk down into the water, following stealthily behind the boy, who was swimming quite fast. You lazily pulled your spear from your back, easing up on the boy as he approached a rock. You hopped off the Ilu, swimming up to the rock, pulling yourself up with your spear still in your hand, ready to aim at the boy. Your actions faltered at the sight in front of you, dropping your spear as you slowly approached.

“Nete, no.”

This wasn’t real. You wished you were hallucinating, digging your fingernails into the palm of your hand, trying to wake yourself up. But you weren’t dreaming, this was all real. You dropped to your knees, not caring about adding on to the injures of your leg. You grabbed his cold hand, holding it as close to your heart as possible as you began to sob.

“Ma yawne, please.” You begged, grabbing his lifeless body in your arms, beginning to rock back and forth, “Neteyam!”

This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. You were supposed to meet him back at the island, meet him back there and continue on with your lives together. He promised he would return to you, and he didn’t. So, this was it. This is what has been haunting your mind. You knew, and you still couldn’t prevent it from happening. Your sobs turned into incoherent screams, stammering the boys' name, looking into the boys golden eyes that weren’t glowing like they usually do. They were just there, soulless. You took it upon yourself to close them, squeezing your eyes shut as you continued to rock his body back and forth.

“I have failed you, ma Nete.” You whispered to him, “And I am so sorry.”

“Hey…” The foreign feeling on your shoulder made your blood turn cold, snapping your head around to see that the demon boy had his hand on your shoulder, “I’m s-”

You viscously hissed at the boy, your fangs on full display for him to see. He backed up with his hands up in defense, Jake stared at you confused as he welcomed the boy back in his arms.

“Sister.” Tsireya softly says from behind you, you felt terrible for not even acknowledging her, but you couldn’t seem to let go of Neteyam, you cradle the boy in one of your hands and use the free one to grab hers.

“It’s time to let go.” You hear Jake tell you and you pull your head up, shaking it in denial, “You’re bleeding.” He stated, thinking that would make you move quicker.

“Let me.” Was all you said.

You didn’t realize how bad it was, you didn’t see your bruised up body that was now bleeding terribly. You felt numb. Jake signaled for Neytiri to grab you, which she did, holding you in her arms as you cried because you didn’t want to let go. You placed a quick peck on his forehead before she pulled you up, trying to comfort and restrain you at the same time. She called for her Ikran, pulling you up with her as she began to fly back towards the Island, the last thing you see being your lover's body laying lifeless on the rock.

Your eyes fluttered opened, blinking a few times to adjust to the lighting. You lifted your head, looking around where you were at, the healing pod. You tried to lift yourself up but failed terribly.

“Do not try to get up by yourself.” You heard your mothers voice, “You must have someone to help you.”

Soon strong arms were helping you sit up, your father holding you close.

“You are brave, my daughter. You make me proud.” Your father says, rubbing your back that continue to ache, “And I ask extremely sorry that this has happened to you.”

“I am fine, father.” You were in complete denial, because in reality you were fine at all, “I want to see him.”

“Come then, you have woken up just in time.” Your mother grabs your arm, helping you up, “First, you must put this on.” She drapes a combination of net and seashells over your body, similar to hers.

She held you up as you limped out the pod, walking out onto the beach. Eclipse was almost here again; you had slept the entire day. You and your mother continue walking over towards their pod, you eventually removed your mothers' hand from you, but she was still close by, making sure you didn’t hurt yourself. You reached the front, peeking your head in at the family.

Neytiri noticed you first, quickly standing up to greet you, she stood in front of you, dipping her fingers into the white paint and smearing it across your face and down your neck.

“You are my family now; I am forever grateful for you.”

You couldn’t even bring yourself to speak, only sadly smiling at her. Your mother left you with the family, letting you participate in the ceremony. You walked out the pod with his siblings, you all call for Ilu’s as you got in the water. You rode with Kiri, her refusing to let you try and ride alone. Tuk rode with Lo’ak and the demon boy who made your blood boil every time you saw him, but you didn’t have the energy. Not right now.

You reached the cove of ancestors, memories flooding through your mind already. You tried to block them out, but that only made more come. Kiri helped you off the Ilu, being in the water helped you a little more, being able to keep yourself up. The members of the clan were already gathered behind you, torched tikis in their hands. Tears began to swell up in your eyes as you saw Neytiri and Jake making their way towards the cove, pulling Neteyam with them. You couldn’t even the bare the sight, your heart ached. You dropped your head to look at the water below you, Lo’ak noticed your state, something he’s never seen before from you. Vulnerability. You were always so strong, stern, mean, even scary at times. This was different. He grabbed your hand, squeezing it to let you know he was there for you. You began to squeeze his even tighter when his brother appeared in front of you, touching him one last time with your free hands before he slid off the leaf.

You shook your head, popping your head out the water, refusing to watch. You let go of Lo’ak’s hand, swimming over to your siblings who stood behind you. Ao’nung immediately pulled you into his arms, he hated to see you, his big sister, the second most fearless woman he knew in a state like this, you were never vulnerable. Not in public in front of all of the clan members at least. You grab Tsireya’s hand before you putting your head down, quietly sobbing as your little brother held onto you.

The days had gone by, while everybody else’s have seemed to have gotten easier, yours have gotten worse. You haven’t returned to your pod in days, maybe even weeks. Your parents, siblings, everybody really worried for you. They knew you were somewhere close, not too worried about your safety. But you, yourself. This was not like you, you were not the type to isolate yourself from you people like this.

You spent day and night bouncing between the cove of ancestors and the spot you two had once shared. You asked the great mother every day, why? You refused to to believe that it was his time, that this was the plan she had made out for you two. Why did she bring you two together? Why had you waited for him. She drew you two together just to pull you apart. You sat in the same spot where you two had sat together only two days ago, thinking about the conversations you had shared. All the things you said you would do together, see together, experience together, would never happen. Just when you had found somebody, who understood you, cared for you, yearned for you as much as you yearned for them, he was gone. Just like that. And you couldn’t even wrap your head around it.

Maybe all the time alone is what was getting to you, instead of surrounding yourself by your family, you decided to isolate. You know that’s not what he would want you to do, he would want you to talk to somebody, in order for them to help you. One thing he was notorious for, urging you to talk so that you would get the help you needed. You stood from the spot, calling for the Ilu as you jumped into the water. You rode through the cove, usually you had avoided going the way you had last seen Neteyam, but you were finally able to, passing the glowing yellow anemones. There was barely anybody out when you reached the island, which was good for you because you didn’t want to answer any questions right now. You know it was wrong of you, but your feet went in the opposite direction of your family’s pod, instead you walked over to the people who are now a second family to you. They haven’t seen you since the ceremony, so you appearing at the front of their pod caught them off guard.

“Oh!” Neytiri gasped, making her way towards you, “Where have you been?! Your family is worried.” She brings you into a hug.

“Around.”

She brings you in the pod, looking over your body for any injuries and such. Kiri and Tuk came over to hug you, almost pulling you to the floor.

“You need to eat something.” Jake demanded, quickly fixing you something and pushing it towards you, “I am not hungry, I actually came here to ask if I could borrow Lo’ak for a moment.” You looked over at Lo’ak, who sat there confused.

Jake looks at the boy, and to Neytiri before looking back at you, “Don’t be out too late.”

You nodded, thanking the man before detaching yourself from the sisters and walking out the pod with Lo’ak, who was still confused on as to why you requested him. You didn’t speak, scared to tell him where you were leading him in fear that he would decline.

“When are you coming home?” He asked from behind you, “I am always home.” You replied, walking into the water.

“Tsireya misses you, and she worries.”

His words broke your heart even more, “I have been selfish, I know. I just needed time.”

He didn’t say anything after that, just following you on the Ilu he had summoned. When you two reached the Cove, Lo’ak knew exactly what you were here for.

“No, I d—”

“I cannot do this alone.” You turned and looked at him, “Please, Lo’ak.”

He lets out a deep sigh, nodding his head, “But I just want to see him, I can’t talk to him. Not yet.”

You nod your head at him, jumping off the Ilu and swimming down to the spirit tree. You were just here with him, now you are here to visit…You grabbed your queue, slowly bringing it up to the tree to intertwine with one another. You smile slightly, as your eyes fluttered shut.

You appeared on the path in the forest, of course. You followed it, slowly walking to the glowing pond. And there he was, sitting with his feet in the water.

“Nete?”

His head swung around, smile instantly spreading across his face, “It is about time you showed up.”

You smiled at the boy, sitting down next to him, his arm immediately wrapping around your body, pulling you into him. Oh, have you missed his touch. You just sat there, listening to him ramble, taking in the moment.

“Why are you so quiet?” He looked at you.

You shake your head, “I just—I do not have any words.” A tear fell from your eye.

“My love, why are you crying?” He pulls you out his embrace to see your face, “I have just missed you, that is all.” You try and stop yourself from crying.

“Do not act so deprived of me, you see me everyday.” He mocks you, wiping the tears from your face as you let out a laugh.

“You are right, idiot boy.”

And just like that, your eyes fluttered open, your queue disconnecting from the tree. You smiled, a big relief taking over you. Though this being your only form of communication with him, he was right, you do see him every day. He was always with you. You touched the single piece of your hair that had the two beads on it, blue and gold. Always together.

You and Lo’ak swam back to your island, not wanting him to get in trouble with his parents. You parted ways with him on the beach, walking to your pod, quietly opening the flap and sneaking in. You looked around at your family, who was fast asleep in their hammocks. You regretted leaving them for these past couple weeks, especially your siblings. You slipped into your hammock, going to pull it over you.

“I knew you would return soon.” Your mother’s voice spoke, startling you, “We have missed you, daughter.”

“I am sorry.”

“Do not apologize.” She shushes you, “You are to grieve however you may like, a process like this takes time.”

“Thank you.”

“Do not thank me, my child. It is my job.” She says, “Now get your rest, I am sure your siblings will be happy to see you.”

You pulled your hammock over you, holding yourself in your arms as you attempted to get some rest.

A body crashing into yours woke you up out your sleep, the two of you flipping onto the hard floor of the pod. You were about to go into defense mode until you realized who was on top of you, Tsireya.

“Where have you been?!” She semi scolded you, “You had me worried, sister.”

You two stood, you ignored her question, pulling her into a tight hug.

“She is back now, that is all that matters.” Ao’nung’s voice said from behind you, wrapping his arms around you and Tsireya.

Your parents had already left to do their morning duties, so you and your siblings took it upon yourselves that it was only right to eat your breakfast on the beach. You all didn’t sit at your usual spot on the rocks, but in the sand, closer to everyone. Tsireya laid out the fruit as you all sat gathered together, catching each other up on the past weeks. You started to zone out when you saw the familiar face that you hated to see, following behind Kiri and Tuk in the distance.

The anger you felt when you saw those golden loc’s was almost scary, your mind was telling you no, but your body yearned for violence. Revenge.

“Are you even listening to me?!” Ao’nung waved his hand in front of your face, “Sorry. What were you saying, ‘Nung?”

“I met a girl! Ìnaha!” He began to get frustrated you, only because you weren’t listening to him.

“That is good.” You nodded, still looking at the demon ahead of you. You snapped out of it, bringing your attention back to Ao’nung, “How did you get a girl to fall for a skxwang like you?”

Ao’nung followed to where your eyes were then looked back at you, “Why do you keep looking over there?”

You dropped your head, looking at your hand as you played with the sand, scooping it up and pouring it back.

“What is on your mind, sister?” Tsireya’s hand met your knee.

“I want him gone or I will kill him.” You blankly say, dropping the sand once again. Tsireya removed her hand from you, taken back at what you had said.

“What? Who?!” Ao’nung couldn’t believe you had just said that so casually.

“That demon who our clan has wrongfully accepted.” You seethed.

“He has done nothing wrong! You were the who taught that we must accept others who are different from us!” Tsireya argued.

“He saved the demon that caused all of this, I watched him do it!” You slightly yelled, quickly regaining your composure. You weren’t mad at them, just the situation, “He is the reason Neteyam is gone, Neteyam went to save him. Now he is gone! If he does not leave soon I am going to kill him, and nobody will change my mind.”

tags: @afro-hispwriter @mashiromochi @neteyamforlife @fanboyluvr @pandoramyst @y2unagiz @thel0v3hashira143 @amortencjja @zeeader

#neteyam fanfiction #avatar fanfiction #neteyam #neteyam x reader #avatar #ao’nung #lo’ak x tsireya #metkayina reader #metkayina #neteyam x metkayina!reader #neteyam angst #Spotify

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pillow-anime-talk · 4 years ago

Text

dating them.

synopsis: Some sweet, funny and also crazy moments in your relationship.

# tags: headcanons; current relationships; romance; mild comedy; fluff; PDA; sfw

includes: gender neutral reader ft. reki kyan, langa hasegawa, miya chinen, kaoru sakurayashiki & kojirou nanjou {sk8}

author’s note: so... i’m just in love with this anime...

— REKI

↘ He’s such a precious boy who cheers you up in the blink of an eye; I think he has an extra sense, so he knows when you feel worse than usual or when you are in even the slightest pain (for example, you bumped your elbow or you haven’t eaten breakfast before ‘cause you missed your alarm clock and therefore you have a stomachache).

↘ Reki is a supportive lover; whether you are passionate about singing, learning languages, reading manga, sewing mascots or painting, a seventeen-year-old will always be right next to you to praise what you do or the way you look. He will notice every, even stupid detail about you and mention it immediately when you’re going to hang out. He’s definitely your fan and doesn’t hide it. Additionally, if you introduce him to what you love, he will also get interested in it in a way and then he will come to you to show off what he has done like a sketch of the two of you or an opinion about the anime you recommended him three days ago.

↘ The boy is really devoted to you and loves physical contact; grabbing a hand, kissing on the cheek or forehead, cute texts in the morning it’s something totally normal for the two of you. I also think that Reki could melt if you run your fingers through his soft hair or make small braids for him, decorating his head with a few colored hairpins or hairbands.

↘ If you know how to skateboarding, he will be delighted and your dates will mostly be about riding together or learning new tricks. Plus, it’s another thing Reki loves about you and wow. He’s even bigger fanboy than before!

↘ However, if you have never ridden or even tried to do it, it doesn’t matter. A teen will be happy to be able to offer you some private lessons if you wish. Again, red-haired adores physical contact, so holding your hands/waist while you stand on his beloved skateboard will be a dream come true for him.

↘ He always has ticket for you, so you make a new banner for each race to support him. Hit me, but I’m 120% sure that after race (whether he won or lost it) he takes your pretty banners and hides them in this special box that has its place on his bedroom closet.

↘ Overall, Reki is a boy who fits to the definition of high school, first love.

— LANGA

↘ Your relationship is a bit more peaceful, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a bit of humor or abstraction.

↘ Langa loves your company so, so, so badly; Reki is quite hot-tempered and is literally everywhere, so when the two of you hang out together after school or at the weekend, blue-haired feels that he can breathe and relax every muscle in his body. You’re his comfort person, and your room is a safe place without fear and noise.

↘ He also enjoys physical contact, but much more prefers to show affection in private, for example in your home or in his own bedroom.

↘ His favorite type of PDA is cuddling; he prefers to be a big spoon and hug you from behind, but he has no problem hugging against your chest or warm stomach, especially when he feels down because of school or racing.

↘ I have a strange feeling that Langa is the type of romantic who would make an amazing Spotify playlist for the two of you so you could listen to the songs, cuddling each other in the bed.

↘ If you can skateboard that’s great! For sure you, Langa and Reki will be a good trio that will meet often in the skate park or in ‘S’. I’m also pretty sure he’ll cheer for you, but at the same time he’ll be very cute with it and definitely more calm than his bestie. For example, if you do a trick... you’ll get a quick kiss on the nose or Langa will buy you your favorite drink. He definitely likes to pamper you.

↘ If you don’t know how to skateboard but you really want to start skateboarding to share your lover’s passion... Well, he will definitely give you a short (long) monologue about how dangerous it is, and you need to be careful – because he knows best of all how a fall on butt or face hurts.

↘ He always keeps a tiny set of colored plasters in his jacket or pants pocket to take care of you in the case of an unexpected accident, as Reki used to care for him.

↘ He’s a good teacher, but he will definitely need to calm his emotions, because sometimes instead of showing you how to slide down the railing, he will suggest something more down-to-earth, like going to the cinema to watch the movie you mentioned three days ago.

— MIYA

↘ Ahh, my precious smol baby.

↘ You are Miya’s first partner, so he still thinks that he’s not good enough for you, although you always reassure him with a light peck on the nose that he’s the best thing that has happened to you and that you’re very glad that you can be with him in every good and bad moment.

↘ The teenager is terribly shy about any physical contact outside, so if you aren’t at home, don’t expect a ton of hugs or kisses from him. He much prefers when you two are alone – then he doesn’t feel overwhelmed by the gazes of other people, especially other skaters who like to make fun of him.

↘ I swear I’ll bite and beat them all...

↘ Miya is a delicate soul and he really likes to feel that someone look after him, so in a relationship he definitely prefers when you cares for him. For example; just touch his soft hair, ask about his well-being or when he will have a race and a huge smile will appear on his face.

↘ I think if he feels that you are the only one for him... Maybe he will lend you his favorite hoodie with cat ears and tail? He’ll be overjoyed to see that you feel good in it. You look extremely cute, but he’ll never admit it.

↘ It smells like him, like wet earth and a hint of sweet perfume, and although it’s a strange combination, it feels really beautiful, downright safe and homey.

↘ For the next holiday (your birthday, your anniversary, Valentine’s Day or Christmas), he will give you a sweatshirt that matches to his own. It will be in your favorite color and will also have an animal accessory, not necessarily catish, because if you prefer dogs, rabbits or cows... You know, there are many options.

↘ If you know how to skateboard, he will be really calm and will feel that finally someone will want to spend time with him, training and riding together; not like in childhood when everyone turned away from him. He will definitely be moved when you grab his smooth hand and offer a long ride in the park. He definitely loves praise, so give him praise every now and then when he does a nice trick. He will also compliment you more than once and even give you a kiss on the cheek (of course if nobody is watching!). He’s not good at words, but he tries!

↘ If you don’t know how to skateboard... He may be a bit skeptical, but naturally he’ll agree to a few lessons in front of your or his house. Of course you originally just wanted to be close to him and hold his hand more often than usual, but it turned out to be pretty fun! Now, training is your typical dates.

↘ Miya is a sweet boy and although he may not look like that, he’s really protective, often jealous and always puts you at first place.

— KAORU

↘ This beautiful man, this angel-looking ideal, this ahhhh... Being in a relationship with him is pure pleasure and daily healing for the soul.

↘ He’s a calm, understanding and loving partner. I think he’s a bit old fashioned but that only adds much more charm to his person.

↘ He often calls you his ‘dearest’, ‘darling’ or ‘sweetheart’, isn’t that cute?

↘ You two don’t go out on dates too often, but I think Kaoru loves to spend time at home, having tea or on the couch while one of you is reading a book and the other is listening to music or just sleeping. He definitely doesn’t look like that, but he loves PDA/cuddling and is the best at it!

↘ He also likes it when you suggest learning calligraphy together. He never forced you to do this, but when he first heard that you would like to meet one of his passions, he was really happy and immediately showed you how to write with ink on the special paper he had in his flat. Obviously, more than once you ask him to write a simple letter or word, because you just love his handwriting and how focused he seems. He’s really hot then, I swear to god!

↘ You love his long hair and are always eager to give him a new, nice hairstyle; normal braid or fishtail braid. Maybe a bun or a ponytail with a few hairpins? He loves everything you do on him. In addition, the gentle head massage you give him each time is the most soothing thing in the world for him.

↘ If you know how to skating... He’s really surprised, but that doesn’t mean he’s unhappy or angry. He wants to see what you can do right away and you will surely feel a sweet kiss on your forehead more than once when the trick will be good or even better than you both thought. He’s a supportive boy, but doesn’t show it as vehemently as Reki, for example; he prefers to smile at you or clap softly.

↘ If you don’t know how to skate yet, but you asked him to teach you how to even stand on it... I imagine Kaoru going pale and trying to distract you from this idea because, as an experienced skater, he’s afraid that you will hurt yourself like any beginner. But your big eyes and ruddy cheeks are his weaknesses, so he’ll trust both you and Carla and help you keep your balance on his beloved, black-violet board. Reward him later with quick kisses or give him his favorites, okay?

↘ To sum up, Kaoru is a good and honest lover. He definitely loves your company and won’t mind spending his free time seriously and frivolously with you.

— KOJIROU

↘ This guy is the definition of the sentence ‘Through the stomach to the heart’. Any objections? No. So let’s gooooo!

↘ Kojirou is a PERFECT second half. Both in character and appearance. If he fall in love with someone seriously, and it will be you, then know that he’ll care for you like about a member of the royal family; breakfasts in bed, an Italian supper, the perfect choice of wine for a chicken or steak are things that have become a sweet daily thing for you at some point.

↘ He loves to show you affection and absolutely has no problem doing it in public, even when he’s working or when you two are in a tight crowd on the train or in the ‘S’ before his race. He will kiss you hard on the lips, grab your skin on your butt or hug your waist. It’s just that everyone needs to know that you belong to him. He’s just as clingy as Reki, and sometimes even worse and bolder.

↘ Of course he has cute side; he likes to lie on the bed or the sofa with you on his chest. He loves being between your thighs and sleep there. He definitely has a weak point in that when you you run your finger on his tattoo or cook dinner with him, throwing ingredients at him and laughing out loud.

↘ Another romantic who uses thousands of pet names (like babey, cutie, doll, pumpkin, kitten). Plus, he loves to dance with you in the kitchen and steal a few kisses here and there. Also, if you aren’t looking, he likes to surprise you with a big, bear hug.

↘ I think he’s a bit impatient, so he doesn’t like to sit at home and prefers dates in crazy places (such as an amusement park, swimming pool, karaoke bar) – it’s his favorite way of spending your time together. As a gentleman, he always pays for you, unless you go faster and bring your ATM card to the card reader as first. But don’t be surprised when Kojirou will just buy you cotton candy or popcorn shortly afterwards.

↘ If you know how to skateboard, he’s as excited as a kid and will definitely offer you a date at the skate park. Naturally, he wants to show off to others what a super cool partner he has, but he also wants others to know that you’re here together to kick everyone’s asses with your abilities. You’re definitely a powerful couple and you have the matching necklaces!

↘ But if you don’t know how to skating then... well, well, well. Just be prepared that one day (without even asking for it) you’ll stand on his beloved board and he will grab your hips, smiling silly. He enjoy skin ship so this guy feels utopian when he can be near you. He definitely won’t spare you compliments, long pecks, and smack your butt when you do something great, so you have to get used to it... and it’s going to be a long training session, so good luck, my friend.

↘ He’s a funny guy, but he’ll never cross your limits, so don’t worry about that. However, he will always find a topic for conversation or a joke to relax the atmosphere or cheer you up. You will never be bored with him.

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shenanigans-and-imagines · 2 years ago

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Lucy/Eddie ask… do they do each others hair? Or talk about hair? Help each other wash it in a tender moment? Have opinions about each others? Gotta love that 80s hair, all the hair facts please :)

Admittedly I have a limited knowledge on curly hair and 80s hair maintenance but I shall try my best until I conduct further research

First things first, they love each other’s hair

Eddie sometimes jokes about going back to the buzz cut which always prompts Lucy to swear she’ll never forgive him if he does

Lucy meanwhile sometimes contemplated getting a hair cut, which Eddie always objects to, besides knowing in Hawkins she’ll end up with the triangle of doom if she isn’t careful

Both are rather protective of their hair, so it’s a great sign of trust to have the other mess with it

Eddie admittedly doesn’t really do much with Lucy’s hair besides curl his fingers along the ends or give a stray strands a playful tug

While Eddie grows his hair out, he’s never put that much effort into styling it and therefor has no idea how he’d style Lucy’s

Lucy meanwhile loves to mess with Eddie’s hair, especially when she’s bored

She’s always doing something with her hands, so if she doesn’t have a sewing project or something else to work on, she will plop down behind Eddie and start messing around

Granted this takes a long time for Eddie to agree to and always with the express caveat that anything she does can be undone before they have to meet other people

He has open the door with braids in his hair on accident a few times and the party never let him forget it

That all being said, once he gets more comfortable Lucy would teach him how to braid hair properly just so he can lend an extra hand with hers once in a blue moon

Eddie 100% steals Lucy’s hair care routine once he learns the secret

She’s spent years perfecting the art and now her curls are luscious and soft

He isn’t going to lose that just rolled out of bed rock and roll look, but at least his hair will be clean

Honestly Lucy was horrified when she first saw what exactly he was using as shampoo

Eddie cuts his own hair and so does Lucy

Personal headcanon that while perms are a thing, nobody in Hawkins actually knows how to cut naturally curly hair

One of Lucy’s favorite images is Eddie with his hair tied back in one of her scrunchies while he works on a campaign

Eddie likes it best when her hair is down; she’s always working on something, having it down means she’s finally going to relax

Lots of hair love to go around

#stranger things #stranger things oc #eddie munson #lucy henderson #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson x henderson!oc #eddie munson x henderson!reader

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c-e-d-dreamer · 3 years ago

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AHHHHH DEMON NESSIAN PT 2 PLEASE!!!!! It’s such a fun idea, I love it!!!!! And I need the angst of Cassian making a deal for Nesta 😭

Thank you so much! I'm so glad you liked it. But I have to be honest, I don't know what Cassian's deal is. Like in my head, I know he makes one, but try as I might, I cannot get my brain to think of something clever and/or creative. The obvious answer is of course a soul for a soul, but that feels counterproductive to them living happy and in love sooooo. I even tried to crowdsource with my two besties but they were equally stumped. I mean happy to crowdsource here on what people think Nesta's soul is worth... Anyways! All this to say, this isn't quite what you asked for, but I hope you will enjoy each member of Cassian's family finding out about Nesta. I did throw some angst in at the end for ya ;) TW: for mentions of death

Part One

Another sigh has Cassian’s attention being pulled away from his laptop. He glances over the screen to where Nesta is lounging on his sofa. She had finally given up on her dress, instead opting for an old pair of Cassian’s sweats and a t-shirt. He can’t help but notice how at home she seems to look in his space, legs tucked up under her, her hair down from it’s usual intricate style and pulled back in just a simple braid that falls down across her shoulder. Her eyes snap to his, and he knows he’s been caught staring, so he goes back to the email he was writing.

“If you’re bored,” Cassian starts. “You’re welcome to any of my books.”

“You mean your books that are almost entirely nonfiction?”

“You don’t like my books?”

“What kind of person actually reads and enjoys nonfiction?”

“I find the history interesting,” Cassian defends. Nesta merely rolls her eyes with a scowl in response, crossing her arms across her chest. “You’re not exactly threatening dressed like that, you know.”

Cassian knows he’s made a mistake when he watches Nesta’s eyebrow raise, the way her chin raises just slightly. Her face is a cool mask of unimpressed. Dangerous. Before Cassian can even formulate an apology in his brain, let alone speak it aloud, his laptop slams shut, almost taking his fingers with it.

“Now, that’s just rude,” Cassian quips, but the way the left side of Nesta’s mouth tilts up in a teasing smirk and the glint in her dark eyes almost has him forgetting to mean it. “Look, my last meeting is at 3:00, then we can go to the bookstore and you can get some better books.”

“Fine.”

Luckily, the bookstore is quiet and mostly empty, just a few customers milling about. Cassian lets Nesta lead the way, following behind her as she weaves between the stacks, her hand outstretched and fingers dragging gently against the spines of the different books. She stops in front of one of the shelves, her head tilting as she reads the different titles declared along the spines. The motion leaves a few wisps of her hair falling across her brow, and Cassian shoves his hands in his pocket before he does something stupid like try to brush them aside. She just looks so soft nestled amongst the books, pulling out different ones and reading the summaries on the backs before settling one in the crook of her arm.

“Wait. If I’m the only one who can see you, does that mean people will just see a floating book?” Cassian asks, stepping forward to pluck the book away. “How about I just hold on to the ones you want.”

“Works for me,” Nesta replies, holding out another book for Cassian to take. Soon, he has five books stacked in his arms.

“The full moon is in a week. Are you really going to read all these books in that time?”

“Cassian?” a voice cuts in before Nesta can reply.

Cassian turns toward the end of the aisle to find Mor standing there, a book nestled in her own arms and her face a mask of confusion. She steps closer, eying the books he’s holding.

“Oh uh hey, Mor,” Cassian greets her.

“You know this is the romance section, right?”

“I... thought I’d branch out. Try a new genre.”

Mor reaches forward, taking the top book off the stack. She stares at the cover before flipping it over to read the summary with a snort. When she holds the book up for Cassian, she has her eyebrows raised, an expression that clearly reads ‘seriously?’ Cassian can’t help but grimace, the cliche shirtless man on the cover staring back at him. Maybe she has a point.

“That’s what I thought,” Mor smirks, setting the book back down on the stack. “So, what’s her name?”

“Her name…?”

“Who you’re actually buying these books for?”

Cassian can feel himself floundering as he stares at Mor with wide eyes. He glances over his shoulder to where Nesta is still standing, but the demon just has an amused expression painted across her face. Not helpful. Cassian turns back to Mor who is still looking at him expectantly, but then her features soften.

“Look, you don’t have to tell me, but I fully expect to meet this girl soon.”

~ * * * ~

Cassian is just finishing pulling his hair up and away from his face when the knock on his door echoes throughout his apartment.

“It’s open,” he calls.

He hears the opening and then subsequent snick of his front door, and when Cassian walks out of the bathroom, he finds Azriel standing in his living room. His brother’s eyes are stuck to the floor, his eyebrows pinched and a frown tugging down his lips.

“Why do you have an air mattress out?” Azriel asks.

Cassian’s eyes snap to the offending object, the mussed sheets and pillow making it clear it’s been slept on. At the snort from the sofa, Cassian’s eyes find Nesta’s where she’s curled up with one of her new books. The expectant look on her face and the smirk tugging up the corner of her lips is all teasing, and Cassian narrows his eyes at her in response before turning his attention back to Azriel. Apparently, Azriel saw the entire exchange, or Cassian’s side of the exchange, and his expression has turned from confusion to concern.

“Cass, is everything alright? You know you can talk to me.”

Cassian rubs a hand against the back of his neck awkwardly before letting out a sigh. “Az… what would you say if I told you… I met a demon?”

“A demon? As in…”

“Demon. Like dark eyes, does biddings. Demon. Her name is Nesta.”

Cassian expects Azriel to ask more questions, maybe even call him out for the absurdity of it all, but instead his brother just steps closer, settling a hand on Cassian’s shoulder.

“Are you getting enough sleep?” Azriel broaches carefully.

“You know what,” Cassian cuts in. “Just forget I said anything. Let’s just go.”

Azriel looks like he wants to say more, but luckily, he doesn’t, and the two make their way to the gym, Nesta trailing behind them. Cassian tries to keep his eyes to himself as they start their workout, determined to avoid any more confused or concerned looks from Azriel. It’s easier said than done, though, and Cassian’s eyes keep drifting to where Nesta has perched herself on one of the lifting benches. It especially doesn’t help that her eyes are decidedly not on him.

Cassian grabs a set of weights and makes his way over to the bench beside her, trying to look inconspicuous as he starts doing chest presses.

“Do you mind?” Cassian mutters.

“It’s not my fault your friend is so attractive,” Nesta remarks dryly.

Cassian doesn’t deem the comment with a response, keeps his expression cool and unbothered. But if he takes off his shirt to finish his workout? It’s just hot in the gym. And if he pushes himself extra hard, doing the exercises that he knows really flex and pull on his muscles? Well, no one has to know.

~ * * * ~

Cassian isn’t sure if Azriel said something, Mor said something, or they both said something, but he tries to push it all out of his mind as he pulls into the driveway at Rhys and Feyre’s house for a declared ‘family dinner.’ He takes a deep breath and turns to where Nesta is sitting in the passenger’s seat of his truck.

“Alright. I don’t need my family thinking I’m crazy, so if we both just play it cool, we should be fine.”

“I’m not the one you need to worry about, and you know it,” Nesta reminds him, throwing open the door and hopping out.

Cassian barely reigns in a sigh as he opens his own door. Mostly because he knows she’s right. But he puts all his focus and willpower into it, and he doesn’t look at Nesta as he greets his friends and family and settles at the table. He loads his plate up and eats, and he doesn’t look at Nesta. He listens as everyone around him talks about their weeks and what’s new, and he doesn’t look at Nesta.

“Cass, are you alright?” Rhy’s voice interrupts Cassian’s thoughts, and his head snaps in Rhys’ direction.

“What? Why would you ask that?” Cassian tosses back, trying to keep his voice light and teasing.

“You’ve been quiet,” Rhys points out. “And we all know you’re never quiet.”

“He’s probably too busy thinking about his new lady,” Mor pipes up.

“New lady?” Rhys asks.

“Oh, yeah, apparently it’s a ‘demon named Nesta,’” Azriel adds, throwing up air quotes.

Cassian is about to tell his family off with a well placed retort, when the loud clatter of silverware hitting a plate echoes through the dining room. All four sets of eyes snap to Feyre who has suddenly gone very still. Her face is pale and her eyes seem to have glazed over, like she’s seen a ghost. The look has Cassian’e eyes darting around the room, but Nesta is nowhere to be found.

“That isn’t funny,” Feyre says, her voice barely above a whisper.

Rhys reaches over, comfortingly squeezing Feyre’s hand in his own. “Nesta was the name of Feyre’s sister.”

“You have another sister?” Mor asks quietly.

“Had,” Feyre explains softly, her hand tightening on Rhys’. “She died a few years back. She was dating this… guy. Tomas. We could never prove it, but I know he was at fault. I know he did it. The one bright spot was some freak accident that happened to him.”

The silence that follows is heavy. It presses against Cassian’s chest and threatens to shatter his ribs until he can’t take it. He stands, the legs of his chair scraping against the hardwood, as he excuses himself. He wanders through the hall until he sees a door slightly ajar, light bleeding into the hallways in a single soft white beam. Feyre’s art studio. He pushes the door open slowly, finding Nesta standing at the easel, staring at the painting perched there.

“She painted me,” Nesta says, her voice hushed and awed. “I know all sisters fight, but sometimes it felt like we were on another level. I didn’t think she’d ever paint me.”

“That deal you made,” Cassian starts, keeping his voice equally quiet. “It was for revenge, wasn’t it?”

Nesta turns then, her dark eyes settling on Cassian. With her spine straight and face set in a cold, hard line, it reminds Cassian of the demon she is. The one he first met standing in his apartment. Power rumbling off her in waves, tendrils of darkness and fire licking at Cassian’s skin until goosebumps break out in their wake. It leaves him breathless.

“Yes.”

#my fic #acotar #nessian #nesta x cassian #nesta archeron #cassian #answered

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flowercrown-bard · 3 years ago

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Promp idea: Jaskier finds a new born Griffin and Griffin thinks Jaskier is the mom. It starts to follow him. Like how hard it can be being a mother of a cute but deadly baby.

hello my dear <3 Ahh I am so so sorry it took me forever to get to this prompt! But better late than never, right? *laughs nervously*

word count: 1877

warnings: none

pairing: Geraskier, pre-relationship

AO3

---

Geralt spent more time than necessary brushing down Roach. If anyone had asked for the reason, he would have told a lie, or more likely just grunted noncommittally. Anything but tell the truth, which was that facing Roach allowed him to smile like an idiot without Jaskier seeing it. If the bard were to see that his ramblings made Geralt drop his mask of gruffness, Geralt would never hear the end of it.

“- really is heart-warming how much you care about Roach,” Jaskier said from where he said on the forest floor, something he would never have done when they had first met – or at least, he wouldn’t have done so without complaining about getting dirt on his breeches. “There’s nothing more charming than a man who takes care of animals, wouldn’t you agree?”

Geralt’s hand accidentally brushed against the braids Jaskier had plaited into Roach’s mane, while Geralt had been away on a hunt this morning. He faltered, but then he gripped the brush tighter, doing his best to pretend he hadn’t reacted to Jaskier’s words at all, when really, he couldn’t help but think that Jaskier was right.

Each winter, when Eskel brought Lil’ Bleater inside the keep to make sure she wouldn’t be cold, Geralt would feel a new wave of affection for his brother. When he saw a pompous lord drop all decorum and posture to bend down to pet a cat, Geralt would feel an unreasonable sort of respect for the otherwise stuffy and unlikable noble.

And when Jaskier snuck Roach treats when he thought Geralt wasn’t looking, he – well. He was glad that his travel companion was someone who got along with Roach. Her liking him was the main reason why Geralt had let Jaskier travel with them. He couldn’t break Roach’s heart by making her leave one of the few friends she made on the Path. Empathy for Roach - that was all he felt as he thought of her and Jaskier together. Definitely.

“Say, Geralt, how would you feel about getting another pet? Hypothetically speaking.”

Geralt huffed, his lips twitching up.

“I have already enough work feeding and cleaning up after you, songbird.”

“Excuse me?” Geralt didn’t need to see Jaskier’s face to know his mouth was opened with indignation. “Well – I have enough work washing and brushing your hair. Between the two of us, you’re the one who gets muck everywhere, wolf.” There was a brief pause. “But…that means you wouldn’t want another pet?”

Geralt’s shoulders sagged as he sighed and finally gave up on his pretence of brushing Roach. He turned, carelessly tossing the brush to the bags sitting on the ground next to Jaskier.

“Careful!” Jaskier squealed.

Geralt rolled his eyes. “Calm down. I didn’t hit you, did I?”

“Well, no, but –“ A strange noise coming from bags made Jaskier stiffen, his eyes widening, before his smile turned painfully artificial. “As I was saying, it is very rude of you to just throw-“

“Quiet,” Geralt hissed, his eyes not leaving the bags.

Jaskier shifted his weight on the ground and it was obvious he was avoiding looking at the bags. “Now really, I know you just love complaining about my voice, but –“

“Jaskier.”

Geralt’s tone made Jaskier’s mouth snap shut.

For a moment, there was utter silence. Then the strange noise returned and the bags began to move.

With slow and silent steps, Geralt crept closer, praying that Jaskier wouldn’t panic and make any sudden movements that would startle whatever was lurking in their bags and make it attack the helpless bard.

With one hand, Geralt unsheathed his silver sword. The other hand he held up in a signal for Jaskier to remain calm.

Jaskier, of course took that as a sign to do the exact opposite. The spiking of his pulse and the sudden scent of nervousness hitting Geralt’s nose were the only warning Geralt got, before Jaskier jumped up. But the bard didn’t run away from the danger into the thicket or to hide behind Geralt. No. He stood in front of the bags, holding up his own hands defensively.

“Geralt, listen. I –“

“Get away from the bags,” Geralt growled, a sudden spike of fear piercing his chest at having Jaskier so close to that unknown thing.

Jaskier only shook his head, a look of determination crossing his face.

“No. This is what I wanted to talk to you about. I…uh… might have acquired a pet? While you were off fighting…that ugly thing with the deadly teeth that I wasn’t allowed to get close to.”

Geralt halted, blinking.

“A pet?” he replied incredulously, lowering his sword.

Jaskier swallowed thickly, his eyes darting to the side, revealing that he was about to lie, even before he opened his mouth.

“Yeah. It’s a cat.”

“A cat.” Geralt repeated deadpan.

Whatever Jaskier saw on his face, he must take it as Geralt believing him, for his own expression flooded with relief. “Yes! A cat.”

“And you kept it hidden from me because…?”

“Because cats don’t like witchers! Or witchers don’t like cats. I’m still not sure about that. But anyway, I thought that maybe, if I got Daisy used to your smell first and talked to you–“

Daisy chose that moment to tumble out of the pile of bags, knocking her small head against Jaskier’s shins in the process.

Geralt and Jaskier both stared dumbly down at her. For once, Geralt was the one who found his voice first.

“A cat, huh?”

“Yes?” A furious blush rose in Jaskier’s cheeks. “In my defence, when I found her I did actually think she was a cat.”

Geralt rubbed a hand over his face, while the griffin-baby that could in no way be mistaken for a cat, began climbing Jaskier’s leg until Jaskier took mercy on her and lifted her up in his arms. He groaned with the effort. The griffin was nearly big enough to obscure the sight of Jaskier’s face. Jaskier’s nose scrunched up adorably – no, there was nothing adorable about an idiot who was snuggling a griffin-baby! – when the griffin’s fur tickled his nose.

“What the fuck made you think that was a cat? Was it the beak?” Geralt lifted a brow, shooting a pointed look at the wiggling beast. “Or maybe the wings?”

Jaskier gave him a decidedly unimpressed look. “It was dark in that cave you left me in! Not all of us have witcher-eyes. And she was alone and happy to keep me company while you were gone on your hunt.”

“Yes,” Geralt said slowly, so that Jaskier couldn’t possibly miss the ‘I-think-you’re-an-idiot’-tone of his voice. “I go on hunts. Where I kill monsters like her.”

Jaskier squawked in outrage, pressing the griffin protectively against his chest. The griffin made a noise not dissimilar to the one Jaskier had just made, but after the shock of being nearly squashed receded, the griffin snuggled contently against Jaskier, chewing happily on the fabric of his doublet.

“She is not a monster! Daisy is a baby and an adorable little darling that would never do anything wrong ever!”

The sound of fabric tearing and a triumphant griffin-shriek disproved Jaskier’s words instantly.

Geralt groaned. He did that far more often since he had started travelling with Jaskier. Life had been so much easier when it had been just him and Roach. No bard who had made it his life’s mission to get in as much easily avoidable trouble as possible.

Life had also been much more boring and lonely without Jaskier. Still.

“She won’t stay a baby forever. Give it two months and she will do more than just tear holes into your clothes.”

Jaskier’s face lit up. “So I can keep her for another two months?”

“I – that’s not – “

“Besides, did you just imply that Daisy tearing holes into my clothes isn’t a bad thing?”

Geralt didn’t dignify that with a response, which Jaskier apparently took as a victory on his side, for he came closer to Geralt, holding Daisy out to him.

“Look at her, Geralt. Look into these eyes and tell me, she isn’t the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen.”

Geralt didn’t need to look at her to know that that was objectively untrue. It couldn’t be true, not while Jaskier was standing right in front of him. Still, he indulged Jaskier and reluctantly stared into the little monster’s eyes, glaring at her in the most intimidating way he could. His own eyes reflected back to him from the dark griffin eyes.

An excited noise that almost sounded like purring left the griffin and with her beak, she snapped at Geralt’s hair that had fallen into his face when he had bent down to look at her.

“She likes you!” Jaskier cooed, while Geralt quickly straightened his back and put some distance between his hair and the beak and claws of the griffin. Still, she tried to snatch the strands, not unlike a cat would. Alright, so maybe Jaskier had had a point with that comparison.

That didn’t change the fact that the bard was holding a damn griffin in his arms.

“She’s already practicing hunting,” Geralt said.

Jaskier rolled his eyes. “She’s only playing. Tiny adorable griffins are allowed to play, aren’t they?”

“She won’t stay tiny! Don’t you listen to anything I told you about monsters?”

“Of course I do.” Jaskier lifted his chin in a challenge. “Which is why I know for a fact that we have to keep Daisy.” The narrowing of Jaskier’s eyes stood in stark contrast to the gentleness with which he stroked the griffin’s feathers and fur. “Griffins are reliant on their parents’ care until they learn how to fly. And!” Jaskier added, before Geralt could so much as open his mouth to protest, “You can’t leave me to take care of her on my own, because I also know that griffins mate for life and a griffin baby needs both parents to survive.”

A triumphant grin spread across Jaskier’s lips.

Geralt’s brows drew together. “I am not letting you rope me into becoming that griffin’s parent.”

Jaskier huffed. “Oh please, don’t be silly. Of course you’re not her second parent.”

Small mercies. Geralt was already about to release a sigh of relief, when Jaskier added, “That position’s already filled. Her other parent is Roach.”

And Roach, the traitor, took that as her cue to trod over to them and nose at the little creature in Jaskier’s arms that returned the mare’s greeting.

Geralt stared incredulously at the bard and Jaskier…Jaskier’s eyes softened as he watched that display. His fingers buried into the soft fur of the griffin and he pressed his cheek against the griffin’s head, nuzzling into her. He looked…happy.

Something twisted inside Geralt’s chest. He looked at Roach – a last hope of getting the moral support he needed to keep him from making a very very stupid decision.

But Roach payed him no attention. She huffed some warm breath into the griffin’s face, before nibbling on Jaskier’s already ruined doublet affectionately.

Just like that, Geralt’s fate was sealed. After all, Roach seemed to like Daisy and he couldn’t break her heart.

And…well, Jaskier had been right. There were few things more attractive than a man who liked animals.

#thank you for the prompt!#again sorry for the delay #prompt #my writing #geraskier #geralt #jaskier #roach #witcher #the witcher #fic #fanfic

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jjkpls · 4 years ago

Text

the wishlist (m) - 2

“Since when do we buy each other sextoys?”

> genre : light angst, fluff

> pairing : jeon jungkook x reader (f)

> words : 5k

> content/warnings : back at it again w/ the bff2l; one sided love, lot of pining; sextoys talk; explicit language; ambiguous infidelity; chaotic oc; clueless koo

previous - next

It all starts with the first box and the vague memory of a warm touch on your face.

When you wake up that morning, groggy from exhaustion and the sensation of having spent the night waking up, again and again, you sense something. You struggle to point out if you’ve dreamt or if it really happened, but there’s the lingering of a warm hand's trace, cupping your cheek, soothing the stress lines on your forehead, and softly brushing your hair back from your face. You can’t tell if it’s happened but it left a lovely sensation both on your skin and heart.

You get up and out of bed, slowly stroll to your living room with a lazy hand raising to your head, meaning to scratch at the snake nest you expect to be sitting on it. Instead, your fingers are met with a rather neat braid you definitely didn’t go to sleep with as you were too fucking done with this day to even try and deal with your tight bun -the very bun that elongated your time to fall asleep by at least a good half an hour. The same fingers that caressed your face took care of your hair and you know exactly to whom they belong.

Of course, giddiness ensues and the mildly serious feeling of mortification -you despise the idea of not knowing in what state he found you, in what state of ugly, of dishevelled, of smelly. There’s no room for embarrassment in this friendship, not this kind anyway, fortunately or not, he’s seen you at your worst (at a time when you didn’t care much if he did or not) so it counters, always a bit, the shame.

He hasn't left your side yet, has he? And he’s exposing himself to this face of yours, so why should you feel bad about it? He sneaks into your apartment at night just to brush your face and bring the covers up to your chin, tuck you nicely in as if he’s your mom or something, so why should you care. He doesn’t seem to mind. He never seems to mind. He’s the best of friends. The best of all the people you know and the best of your friends.

And of course, naturally fitting this role, you’d find the morning of Christmas, a mysterious box you’ve never seen before sitting on your coffee table.

The girls, your friends, have presents for you, you know they do, but yesterday you were working and couldn’t see them, therefore, the little celebration was reported and you didn’t expect, you wouldn’t expect them to come at night or early in the morning to bring you your gifts. It can wait (so they decided).

But Jungkook is sweet like no one else is.

And he came to wish you a merry Christmas even if you were too tired to wish him back and he left a present for you.

There’s not a name attached to it but it’s obvious it comes from him. There’s just a post-it he stole from your desk, with a Merry Christmas written on it, the lines of the letters, round and neat, you’d recognize from any other lettering and a bunny with teeth as big as the eyes smiling at you, drawn next to it.

The box is so pretty, you feel an actual pressure thinking about opening it, as if there is a certain way, a proper way, to go about it.

And apparently, there is. You go wash your face and rinse your mouth, prepare yourself one of your good teas, tear the curtain wide open and slowly, almost ceremoniously, take a seat on the ground, right in front of it.

The box is neat. You don’t know what’s inside, probably a perfume or some kit for the bath you’d assume, but you already know that whatever is inside, even if it’s not of your liking -which is impossible, it comes from Jungkook-, will be balanced out by the appearance of this perfectly elegant, tasteful box that you’ll use again to stock anything, maybe your face masks, maybe nothing -it’ll just sit, looking good on a shelf.

It’s a pastel blue, with a black rose drawn on top of it, the icon to a brand you absolutely don’t recognize. With fingers trembling with excitement you drag the box to yourself, it’s mildly heavy, for some reasons, it gives you a little rush of anxiety. There’s just a tiny black ribbon holding the box firmly closed. A tiny pull on it and it slips open.

Slowly you lift the lid, a grin already plastered on your face, hurting your cheeks. You expect a blinding magical light to come out of it, with the sound of bells ringing near your ears and sense to suddenly knock into you as you’d understand what wondrous present is in front of you.

But none of it comes. There's just a thing hidden inside a black satin bag.

It’s not a perfume nor a bath kit and you’re confused.

A bit scared.

Honestly, maybe a little shameful part of you has guessed it. But the louder yet weaker rest of you can’t see it. It would be too... ludicrous. And wouldn’t make sense, would it? You’ve never actually seen any in real life so how would you know what the packaging would look like and how would you come to this conclusion now? And how, why, how would he, Jeon Jungkook, come about to offer you this?

Doesn’t make any sense.

But somehow, when you pick up the courage to open the little bag and drag the object out of it, you hardly even gasp in surprise when you discover a dildo. You just let it drop to the table, thumping loudly the fake wood.

Why did you guess it to be that and why did he get you this shit?

Scorching red seize your face and your whole being.

You are infuriated.

How dares he? You are mortified. How dares he?

What does this fucking mean?

A joke?

Is it a joke?

If it a joke then what’s the fucking point? It’s not fucking funny. It’s weird as hell and you can’t believe he came in the middle of the night, pretending to be Santa to leave you a fucking kidding present as if your miserable life needed that.

And if it’s not then what the actual fuck? Does he think you’re that desperate? Does he have really no notion of boundaries?

Conveniently your phone lays centimetres away from the offending thing, you don’t even need to get up to grab it and therefore, you start looking furiously for his name in your recent call list. After only two rings as if he was just expecting your call, his bright hello reaches your ear.

“What the actual fuck, Jeon?” He must hear the madness in your voice, both the anger and the hysteria. There’s a pause during which he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t make a sound and you even check your screen to make sure he hasn’t hung up on you.

“That’s- not- the reaction I expected.” He sounds sheepish. Mumbled words, lisped syllables, long pauses.

“What did you expect?” You yell a bit, you can just picture him, dragging the phone out of earshot and winding, the same way you do when your mom who doesn’t get the concept of telephone screams in it each time she calls you. The realization hits you, that in your quiet little apartment, in this (for once) quiet morning, you are screeching like a banshee. You quiet down instantly, some of the anger soothed down by embarrassment. “Are you insane?” You whisper in his ear and comically, he starts whispering too, with the same alterations to his usually bright and open tone.

“M’not. I just- you said that’s what you wanted so I got it for you.”

Now he’s making stuff up and blaming this insanity on you and that serves to raise a bit more the bar of anger -along with the loudness of your voice, “When have I ever said that I wanted a-“ You choke on your own saliva once your brain realizes that you’re supposed to say the word, out loud, to him. In an angry whisper, as if someone, your mother, for example, could be listening “fucking dildo!” You blush furiously at that and it’s ridiculous. Probably the reason why you didn’t own one in the first place and maybe shouldn’t yet. Because you’re a grown-ass woman of a quarter of a century, living alone and admittedly independent and responsible for your own existence, but you can’t even say the word “dildo” out loud to this asshole of a friend who apparently, and that’s new news, doesn’t have an issue talking about sex and everything related to it with you.

“Y-you said-“ There’s a pregnant pause. You can’t know for sure since you’re not seeing him if he’s faking it or not but he sounds confused as hell. Like he genuinely doesn’t understand what’s wrong. Moron. “You said you wanted sex but not a boyfriend so I thought- it’s pretty much- it’s exactly what it is. Why are you so mad?”

The question in itself serves to drag you a little further over the edge. So much so, it clogs your brain with anguish and leaves you unable to give him an answer.

When he’s starting to talk again, maybe ask again his question, you just hung up, slamming your phone down on the carpet.

You hear it vibrate to life twice before it shuts down completely. Good. At least he knows you well enough, still, to assume rightfully so that you won’t pick up his calls anymore. Not today.

You just have the time to pack the dildo back in its bag and inside its box, throw away your tea that tastes unbearably bitter and maniacally scrub your face in an attempt to get rid of the red patches that don’t want to fucking leave before the telling high beeps of your front door’s digital lock alert you. Your face is soaking in cold water, another attempt to cool it, your face and your troubled mind.

You mean to ignore him. Dipping your head further in the filled up sink, closing your eyes tight shut hoping somehow it’ll help you push aside the calls of your name better.

For a few seconds, it works. You can’t hear him anymore. You wonder if the furious pleas you were chanting in your head could have been loud enough to make the sound of the door slamming behind him as he would have left, completely quiet.

He’s such a try-hard. You hung up on him because he’s saying batshit crazy things and his first reflex is to barge in your house again. You really need to change your lock and not tell him. You can do that. You’re an adult and you have the right to your own fucking place. It’s not a fucking benevolent stay in, for fuck's sake.

The cold water really seems to work. You feel better, light-headed, coming down after the earlier hysteria. And knowing that he’s left and won’t pursue this mess any further, for now, surely helps a lot.

Except it doesn’t last for, as soon as your face leaves the water, your hands reaching clumsily for a towel that falls magically in them, one wipe at your eyes and your worst nightmare is standing right in front of you.

“Fucking- Jungkook!” Burying your face back in the towel, drying your face as much as possible, maybe even trying for a second to suffocate yourself, you wish vainly that when you’ll take it off he would have disappeared.

He is still here though. Watching with dark eyes and a straight severe line replacing the cute button he owns for a mouth, he looks awfully serious for a guy that’s never really serious. Your towel ends up centimetres away from his face, he catches it right before it touches him. You hoped it would blind and confuse him momentarily, long enough for you to escape but of course, this guy would never miss a shot, even a surprise one.

“Why are you like this?” He asks when you try and push him from the ribs, out of the door frame. You hate that you think about it. About his chest being so hard and warm and his fucking smell of sweat that you’d recognize amongst any others (pretty easily as any other makes you gag and this one, probably because you’re a primary animal guided by hormones, leaves you dizzy and wanting). He doesn’t budge until he decides to, mercilessly stepping aside to let you through. Because you’re an idiot, you don’t think and head for the living room and it’s only once you’re there, very aware of his steps following you, that the devilish object of your discord is right fucking there, obnoxiously sitting on the middle of your coffee table. You groan and squeeze your eyes tight.

What meditation technique, an extra effective one, could you use right now before you definitely lose it and throw yourself out the window?

Before you find one, you end up clinging to the opposite wall, forehead pressed to it, back to him, in a vain attempt to suppress yourself from the situation. You might look a little insane or at best, somehow on edge, but who cares at this point?

“Jungkook, if I don’t pick up your call, do you think I want to see your face?”

“But why though?” His tone is still harsher than usual. You notice it and you notice you don’t hate it either. What a little bitch you are. If you like his usual self, with the bright smile, soft words, boisterous laugh, dainty manners, you can’t deny that this rougher version of him, genuinely pissed off as you’ve never seen him, tickles your fancy. You’re fucked. “Seriously these days you- you’re such-“

“I’m what?” You bark, swirling on your feet, expression distorted by an offence he hasn’t even made yet. You completed the sentence he’s never finished with terrible words that you’ve never heard him use talking about anyone: bitch, hysterical, cunt.

“You’re trying to pick a fight with me all the fucking time, I don’t get it!”

Now you feel terrible. You’re still bothered by the raw edges of his tone, it’s literally sending electric shocks to your lower tummy. But his eyebrows have dropped and his fiery dark eyes have turned shiny and sad, your heart hurts in your bosom.

Ugh.

You’re such a bitch.

“I’m sorry. I know I’m insufferable. I’m on my period. Sorry.” You send a mental apology to womanhood. You're just an idiot lacking imagination.

Jungkook frowns, his eyebrows dancing in all kind of ways, before they settle for an, unfortunately for you, attractive finale, one straight down, one tilt up. He stares at you, dubious.

“For three weeks. You’ve been on your period for three weeks.”

The first thing you take notes of is the fact that he dated it way shorter than you would have. Honestly, you found yourself becoming a weirdo with inappropriate feelings that reindeer you into an asshole for at least a month and a half. Before that, it was extremely tamed, totally under control. You’d just notice his handsome face and cute smiles and nice smell, thinking “oh yeah that’s right. He’s kinda attractive. How funny I never really noticed.” And slowly it progressed to not being able to handle him touching you without having something close to a panic attack.

The second thing you note is that he doesn’t believe you. His stare is insistent, turns a bit dark as he lingers, studying your own eyes with judgment in his. He’s frowning even more, looks down at the floor and sighs so deep, heartbreakingly so. He looks hurt that you’re lying and don’t want to share what's really been up with you. If only you could be a better liar.

“It happens sometimes, all women are diff-“

He just sat down on your sofa, eyes fixed on the blue box. Before you can finish your sentence, he sends you a glare that awfully looks like a threat. You shut up. He doesn’t believe you anyway. He knows you and your periods (sort of) way too well. He knows you’re in pain the first day, you’re a bit tender on the following ones and he takes it upon himself to be gentler and not try to play WWE with you on those but you don’t turn into a mean dragon. This much he knows for sure.

There’s something he’s seeking for within the box. He’s grabbed it, holds it now in between his fingertips, piercing virtual holes into it. It’s probably the answer he didn’t find in your eyes.

It makes you flush furiously. Seeing his pretty hands with his long fingers touching it. Here’s the reason, he would have caught it on your cheeks if he wasn’t so busy looking for it elsewhere.

“I really thought that- you’d like it.” He sounds so saddened. You’re caught off guard. Again. So this present wasn’t meant to be a joke. It is a genuine one. It makes sense that he’s hurt then. You’re shitting all over his gift but how could you not? How could he believe that you could just accept that for a random gift? Slowly he makes the top of the box slide up, pout sucked in in concentration, dimple out. Your heart seems to stop at that. He’s not going to take it out, is he?

He can’t take it in his hands.

You’ll die if he takes it in his hands.

Fortunately, he just opens the box, looks at the satin bag, looks at it with a pained expression as if he feels bad for the thing, then closes it back.

“The woman at the shop said that it’s one of the best ones, for starters.” He sulks like a child. Bottom lip all plumped out, shiny eyes under curved eyebrows.

Jungkook looks up at you, ultimate sad puppy look on.

“She said the size and the texture were perfect if you’ve never used one before. It wouldn’t be too... what was that again?” He asks aloud as if you’d know. And you’re mortified. On behalf of him. The concept that he’s not embarrassed right now and that he went to an actual shop, browsed through the shelves and asked an actual saleswoman for help is absolutely insane. Unbelievable if it were not for the sincerity he’s dipped in. “And I picked blue because I know you like this colour. It matches your planner, doesn’t it?” He adds as if he’s not sure when obviously he knows.

It is surprisingly very close in shade. And so what? He expected you to love it so much, take fucking aesthetic pictures with it and your planner sitting on your fake marble desktop, next to Diego the succulent? What an idiot. And for how fucking long did he talk to that woman?

Silence hangs heavy between you. You watch as he scowls some more, mumbles under his breath while staring with despair at the box.

Slowly, resolute to be the better friend you have not successfully been these past weeks (months), you leave your protecting wall. Taking a seat on the carpet, on the opposite side of the table, you do your best to ignore the blue patch invading the bottom of your vision and try to give him the softest expression you can come up with at this moment.

“Why are you so butthurt?”

His curiously perfect round eyes raise in a swift motion, pouty lips agape in a silent little gasp.

“Sorry.” You apologize before he even gets to respond because, maybe, you could try harder to be good and nice to him.

“Because it’s a present.” He starts at a very slow pace. He pauses between words like he’s addressing a dim, dim brain. And he might be honestly. But he’s one to talk. How can he not see an issue? “That I’ve looked for and bought for you. That’s why I’m butthurt, what do you mean?”

“But- since when are we buying each other-“ You need to grow up. There’s no one else but him hearing you and since your last conversation about it, when he too was embarrassed, he’s able to say it just fine apparently. Still, you whisper the following, “sex toys?”

“Since you turned twenty-five and said you were interested in it.” His right-hand raises from the box to start flapping the air and you know it means bad news. He’s upset. When he needs his hands to further accompany his speech, it means he’s a bit too taken by the conversation. And in this case, you don’t feel like it’s a good idea for him to be. “When you were fourteen and into Legos, I bought you a set of Legos.”

Hardly makes sense.

“You’re just going to pretend it’s a random present?”

“It’s not random. I put thought into it.” His eyes are digging up intensively in your own. It might be desperation that leads you to remain still, allow him to look. Hopefully, he won’t dig deep enough to find stuff he shouldn’t. “Why do you hate it? I thought- I don’t know- you’re a- flourished single woman and-“

Flourished? Really? The words don’t come out of your mouth but he reads them on your face and an adorable smile cracks open the mask of gravity.

“Jungkook.” You owe him an effort. Maybe you should look into why it requires an act of inhuman courage for you to admit your shame. It might be because if he were anyone else, you’d be embarrassed by the present for five seconds because clearly, you’re still half of a fucking child but soon enough, you’d probably be enchanted by the thing. Who doesn’t need a good sex toy? You definitely do. You thought about getting one for a long while but never got to it for some reasons and here’s one offered to you (in a very pretty shade of baby blue).

The thing is you don’t think about anyone sexually except for him (and his friend Jimin, once in a while, just by curiosity because the guy is a very sexual being). If you don’t even consider them in this light, you don’t have to think about them using it, do you? But he’s all you think about, unfortunately. And you’re friends. And it feels like one step closer to your fantasy while simultaneously one step closer to betrayal. And he certainly is not offering you this wishing for you to keep close in mind the fact that this is his. His present. He knows about it. Maybe can think of you using it and liking it without any further implications. Because obviously, it’s not like that for him. “It's awkward. How can you not see that.”

“Is it? What is?”

“First of all, we don’t- we- don’t even talk about... it. And suddenly you’re buying me- this?”

“Yeah, I realized that too!” It’s too much enthusiasm. Eyes too big and hands not leaving the air. You can already guess his next sentence. It’s probably going to be a terrible suggestion. “I talk about sex all the time with the guys,” Your eyebrows jump to your hairline at that. You’re not even that surprised but the formulation could probably be fixed. “and you talk about it with your girls, right? But we’ve known each other the longest and we never talk about it. Isn’t it fucked up?”

“I wouldn’t say ‘fucked up’-”

“Well, I would. I am.”

“Don’t you- don’t you see that you’re a boy and coincidentally you can easily talk about it with the guys who happen to be boys and I am a girl, right? And I-“ Who would have thought? It took you fifteen years to finally be giving him the beginning of the talk about the birds and the bees. You would have given it to him sooner if you’d have known how far behind he’s been.

“But what if I need girl advice-“

“I’m sure Jimin knows a whole lot about girls, Jeon.”

“From a girl point of view. Real girl advice.”

“Jungkook-“

“If I ask what the G spot exactly feels like, what-“

“Jungkook!”

He’s amused, the fucker. He’s not as clueless as he sounds. But the crooked grin on his face is too telling. He might just be messing with you. Usually, when he’s just playing he wouldn’t insist so much, he wouldn’t take the conversation this far so surely, there are some genuine intentions. However, he's still having way too much fun.

With his frowned nose, and squinting shiny orbs and stupid bunny teeth.

“You’re just embarrassed, aren’t you?” You might have terribly loud red streaks painting your cheeks that you try naively to cover with your hands. He can see it all and silently, he nods his head, looking like he’s reached the final touch of his experiment. “How? What happened to the teenage girl who spent her nights writing dirty stories about Harry Styles?”

Horror.

How the fuck-

“How the fuck do you know about that?”

“You showed me!” He defends, hands high above in the air like a soccer player claiming innocence. “You did! You don’t remember?” No, you don’t. But you can tell he’s not lying. Apparently, young you was quite the fearless bitch.

What happened indeed?

Years happened. A growing sense of self-preservation along with them. Undesired feelings for an idiot with a bunny smile. An inappropriate sense of shame along with those.

“Anyway. So it’s a bribe for girl advice?” You ask, chin pointing to the box. Jungkook looks down on it, drums his fingertips lightly on the top before he looks up, beaming.

“Sort of.” Shrugging, he adds with a shifty eye that telltales a certain vulnerable sincerity. “I just wish for us to be able to share everything. Be comfortable like before.”

“Before what?” He stares for a long time, mouth shut. He then blinks the moment away and for the first time, you might believe ever, Jungkook looks like he might have a secret too.

“Just before. Back in the days, I mean.” He simply explains. His attention is back on the stupid box. He’s staring at the rose on top of it. Fingers playing with the corner of it.

“Back in your old days.”

“You’re older than me. So you really don’t want it?” Here he comes again with the sad puppy face. Why would it be breaking his dumb little heart to refuse a dildo from him? What kind of insane parallel universe is this? “Is it like a 'men are fine but little Jeon Jungkookie still has cooties so I can’t accept his present, it’s gross'?”

“Something like that.”

“Oh.” Defeated, he sighs. Another one of those soul-harming sighs. “Fine. I’ll get it refunded and you’ll buy yourself something else with the money then.”

Is he really going to make you do that?

As if the question is even to be raised. He can make you do anything.

“No, Guk, sorry. It’s fine. Sorry.” You start, hands clasping over the box you drag your side of the table. The only way you can do it is if you don’t actively think about what’s inside. “I’ll keep it. Sorry.”

“So you kind of want it?” He is grinning from one ear to the other. You can feel him giddy and excited, kind of jumpy on his seat and really, you don’t see any difference with the excitement he portrays each time he gets you any kind of presents and you tell him that you like it.

“I won’t use it.” It’s almost a threat. Eyes squinted in severe slits, index finger millimetres away from poking his eye. “It’s a gift so I won’t make you get a refund, that’s rude but- I won’t use it.” After a second of seemingly deep reflection, he breaks out in his loud, annoying boyish laughter. Eyes watery at the corners and hands clapping like a stupid seal. “I’m serious!”

“Sure.” He’s still cackling, the idiot. “But you should. The lady said it’s a best seller too.”

“Great. I don’t care.”

He has his eyebrows high, a twitch in his wide grin, and the amused black orbs. He doesn’t believe you one bit. “Course, you don’t.”

The idea that he sincerely expects you to use it might drive your delusional brain for a loop. He just wants to be the best gift-giver, the best Santa, and wants you to make good use of whatever he's got you. But how can he not consider that you could not use something like that, to pleasure yourself, when it’s directly related to him, your best friend? It’s weird as hell. It can’t be just weird to you.

Unfortunately, there’s no one you can come up with the question to have them agree with you. You already know what the girls will say. They’re even worse than you when it comes to Jeon Jungkook and your ambiguous (on your side solely) friendship. They’ll say the ship is sailed and start buying themselves bridesmaid matching dresses.

They don’t understand. It’s not like they’ve grown up with someone like him. Someone rather simple, authentic and kind, so much so, so much more than most people, that it turns him complicated because so different from other humans you can meet. There’s nothing to be read in between the lines with him. It’s always lovingly honest, blatant, generous.

He doesn’t mean anything else behind the gift besides a “have a good one!”.

And you didn’t mean anything else but the truth when you said you wouldn’t use it.

At the moment, anyway, you meant it.

A/N: hoping it makes sense and is not too raw, edited it at midnight TT; may i manifest a sugar daddy that would pay me to stay home and write fanfiction for you guys all day :). i really hope you like it, and hope also that you can handle the secondhand embarrassement because even i struggled. let me know what you think of the series so far, sending everyone reading this an infinite amount of virtual kisses and hugs, take care of yourself, love yourself and others a lot, BYEE.

tag list: @moon-asia @btstrasht @jkbangtan7 @taehugger @kaepjjangiya @daggerbeneathmygown @cuteipat @jinsalpaca

PLEASE ASK TO BE TAGGED IN THE COMMENT FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER! TY <3

#btswriterscollective #networkbangtan #ggukienet #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #my writing

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waiting4inspiration · 4 years ago

Text

A Different Way I: The Vow

Summary: Ivar comes to Earl Gunnar to form an alliance; the use of the Earl's strong fleet in exchange for Ivar making one of Gunnar's many daughters his wife. While there, none of the girls that practically throw themself at him catch his eye. No, he wants the woman that is ready for any fight. He wants the woman that vows that she will die on a battlefield.

Warnings: strong language, mentions of arranged marriage (kind of), blood vows, blood, small angst, fluff, mentions of death during childbirth, please please please let me know what you think of this because I'm struggling with the next part and feedback always helps me out

Word Count: 2,426

A Different Way Masterlist II Vikings Masterlist

Earl Gunnar is known for having many daughters. It means that Ivar is prepared to see so many women in his hall when he arrives. Hvitserk is not as prepared. Ivar also knows that he has to choose one of these daughters to be his wife if he wants this alliance between Earl Gunnar, the two of them have spoken about this in private already.

Gunnar’s fleet has grown larger than Ivar and his army would make a great addition to The Heathen Army. If Ivar wants to carry on raiding England and defeating their growing army, compromises have to be made. He will have to take a wife. And he’s sure that out of Gunnar’s group of daughters, he will find a wife suitable for him.

All his daughters were told about his arrival, to dress in their best dresses, and make themselves look like wives in hopes for his proposal. But there’s something in the way they all whisper and giggle to each other that Ivar doesn’t find appealing. Sure, maybe there are a few beautiful faces that he can learn to love, but none of them catch his attention right away.

“King Ivar. It is an honor to have you in my hall,” Gunnar speaks, standing from his seat and stepping forward. Ivar pulls his gaze away from the group of girls and looks towards him. Hvitserk is preoccupied with the girls, smirking and making them blush and not focusing on the Earl. “These are my daughters. All 12 of them are eager to meet you,” he mentions, gesturing to his giggling group of daughters.

Ivar glances back at them and quickly counts them out of curiosity. He finds a fault. Counting again, he smirks and looks back to the Earl. “I count 11,” he states, the smile on Gunnar’s face falls and his eyes snap over to his daughters.

They all glance around to see who is missing, but their father already knows who. “Where is your oldest sister, girls?” he questions, his second oldest that is only a few years younger smirks at him and folds her hands in front of her.

“Where do you think she is, father?” the girl questions, raising her eyebrow as the rest of the girls behind her snicker, making Ivar even less interested in them and more interested in this missing daughter.

Gunnar grumbles something to himself before the doors of the hall open to allow someone in.

Ivar and Hvitserk turn around to see who it is, Gunnar only closing his eyes because he knows exactly who it is; his oldest daughter. You. And Ivar is taken away by your appearance.

You are not dressed in a fine-fitting dress, nor do you have braids keeping your hair out of your face. You look like you have just stepped off a battlefield, sweat-covered forehead and sword tightly held in your hand.

And when you see the assembly in front of you, your eyes grow wide.

You look right past Ivar and at your father who still has his back facing you. Your sisters all smirk at you, some of them whispering and making each other laugh. And when your father turns around, you know you’re in big trouble because the look of cold, pure anger on his face makes you bite your lower lip.

“You were training?” Gunnar questions, Ivar glancing between you and your father. You give a small nod and shift on your feet, breathing out a sigh because you know what’s about to happen next. And you’re prepared to fight back. Ivar can see it in the way you stand. “And have you forgotten that we are in the presence of a visitor?”

Your eyes flicker over to Ivar, and he takes in a deep breath at the sight of your eyes staring into his. You swallow hard at the sight of his brightly colored eyes, realizing that they live up to the stories you’ve heard of them.

You bow your head to him. “Forgive me, my King. But I wasn’t interested in being displayed like an object for sale,” you spit, your anger not directed at him, but to your father.

Ivar is taken aback by your tone, by the fire in your eyes as you turn your gaze back to your father, and by the way your upper lip sneers at him as you speak. And your voice. It’s powerful and fierce.

Gunnar takes a deep breath to compose himself in front of Ivar and Hvitserk. He holds out his hand. “Give me your sword,” he orders, the daughter’s behind him all oohing like they know what’s about to happen.

You glance down at the sword in your hands and grip it tightly, shaking your head as you look back to your father. “Mother gave me this sword-”

“Give me your sword! Now!” You flinch at his words and take a step forward.

Walking past Ivar, not even looking at him, he can hear your heavy breathing and notices how you desperately cling to your sword. Holding it out when you reach your father, he harshly takes it from you and holds it at his side. “You will get it back when you have learned some courtly manners,” he states, your mouth dropping as your hands roll into fists by your sides.

And you hear your sisters laughing at your misfortune. Turning on your heels, you storm away and mutter incoherent frustration under your breath. “I haven’t dismissed you, (Y/n)!”

“And I didn’t ask if I could leave!” you shout back, turning around to face your father again.

You’re fuming. Something about your rage intriguing Ivar even more and he takes a step forward at the vengeful flicker in your eyes. You don’t care that he is there. You don’t care if some of the people outside now crowd the door of the Hall to see what is going on. There is nothing that will stop your furry for your father.

Gunnar sneers at you and holds out his other hand. “And that will cost you your ax,” he barks, your hand shooting for the ax at your side that Ivar didn’t even see you carrying. “It is time you learn to act like a lady. Now, your ax,” he demands, Ivar’s head snapping to him.

Ivar’s about to dismiss this scene and tell Gunnar that none of this is necessary. But a harsh thud sounds from your side of the room and Ivar’s head snaps over to you. He finds your hand wrapped around your ax’s handle and the blade embedded in the wood of the pillar beside you.

Without another word, you turn back around and storm out of the room; there is nothing left for your father to take.

Gunnar turns his gaze to Ivar and sighs. “Perhaps we can discuss this later, King Ivar. I have to…talk to my daughter,” he says, not waiting for Ivar to reply before walking after you.

Hvitserk turns to Ivar and sees him staring in the direction you left. “She’s the one you want, huh?” he asks, a smirk growing on Ivar’s face as he recalls that fierce fire he saw in your eyes. “She’s going to be a handful, Ivar.”

“At least she won’t bore me to death then,” Ivar mentions, glancing over his shoulder to the group of gossiping girls.

Hvitserk chuckles at him. “You’ll have to win her affection first and I don’t think she will be as easy as her sisters,” he whispers, Ivar’s eyes return to where you walked out of as Hvitserk glances at your sisters.

He’s right. You don’t look like you’re as interested to be his wife as your sisters are. But that’s what will make it all the more fun for him. And if he manages to win you over, He will be a very happy man.

People know that when they see you storming down the hallways to stand aside unless they want to experience your wrath. Even though it’s clear you’re not carrying any weapons, they don’t want to know if you can strangle someone, which is very likely.

Once you get to your room, you slam the door shut behind you with a loud, frustrated groan and weave your fingers through your hair to tug on your roots. You pace the floor, trying to calm yourself down. But all you feel is rage. Picking up your knife when you walk past it, you grip the handle tightly as if your father’s going to take it from you as well. The chances are good if his idea to teach you courtly manner is by removing every weapon you own.

Hearing your door open, you jump around and glare at your father when he walks in. “What? What could you possibly want now?” As you snap at him, you slam your knife into the table beside you making it stick into the wood.

He gives you a stern look as he walks forward, silently telling you not to take that tone with him even though he knows that you won’t listen to him. “When are you going to realize that I only want the best for you?” he asks, reaching for your knife embedded in the table but your hand snatches it before he can even touch it. “You have to start taking responsibility. You can’t spend the rest of your life training or waiting for the battle to break out.”

“And I suppose you want me to settle down, marry some man and have his children?” you viciously ask, pointing your knife at him as you take a step away from him. “Is your preferred way for me to die the same way mother did?”

“Don’t-”

“Because I promise I will never allow that to happen. As a matter of fact-” You hold out your hand and slice through your palm, hissing through your teeth as blood starts to pool in your hand. “I vow that I will die on a battlefield and not because of some man’s child. I make this vow before the Gods. And before a King,” you say, adding the last part when you see Ivar walking into sight.

Gunnar turns his head over his shoulder to see who you’re looking at. Seeing Ivar, he takes a deep breath, his jaw tensing as he slowly turns back to face you. “This won’t change my mind,” he sneers to you, reaching for your knife and pulling it out of your hand.

You flinch, pull your cut hand close to your chest, and narrow your eyes at your father as he turns to walk away. When he passes Ivar, your eyes go to him for a moment before looking down at your hand and turning away from him. You expect him to walk after your father, but you can still see him out the corner of your eye. Still, that doesn’t stop you from looking for a piece of clothing you can rip up and use as a bandage around your hand.

“May I help you?” you snap, looking back at Ivar when you notice that he hasn’t moved yet.

He smirks, takes a small step forward, and runs his tongue over his lips and his eyes fall to your bloodied hand gripping the material tightly. “I thought I would come see if you’re okay. It seemed like quite a nasty fight you had-”

“What do you know?” you cut him off, sitting down on the edge of your bed and fumbling to wrap your hand up. “He’s been that way with me ever since my mother died which has been a long time because she died…” You stop, biting your tongue when you realize that you’re rambling off to someone you don’t know, someone you don’t want to know, all because you’re angry at your father. “Well, that’s none of your business.”

Ivar smiles at you as he steps forward. He definitely won’t get bored with you. Seeing you struggling with the makeshift bandage, he walks towards you and then sits down beside you, resting his crutch next to him. Then, he reaches over to take your hand. You pull it away from him and glare at him.

Tilting his head at you, he tries to take your hand again and this time you let him. “You must trust the Gods if you tried to make a blood promise,” he whispers, ripping the piece of material into a smaller, longer piece before gently taking your bloodied hand again.

“I didn’t make it because of the Gods,” you sternly say, your mean tone making Ivar chuckle and his eyes flicker up at you for a second before he looks back at your hand. “I did it in memory of my mother.”

He hums, slowly wiping away the blood before taking the piece he had ripped off and methodically wrapping it around your palm. “She was a shieldmaiden?” he asks, looking up at you again as he gently turns your hand around.

You stare at his hand, noting the feeling of his rough skin against yours. “She was the best in the city. Or that is what I thought when I was a child. She told me that she saw herself in me when I was born so she taught me how to fight. Even when she was pregnant with my sisters.” You laugh at the memory but then hiss when Ivar starts to tie the bandage. “It was the one thing I had with her that my sisters didn’t have.”

“And it feels like you’re honoring her memory by carrying on fighting?” His question makes you raise your head to him and he looks up at you in return. You open your mouth to speak, but you don’t. He already knows the answer to that questions and you know it.

When he’s done with your hand, you gently pull it away from him and shake your head. “If you’re planning on trying to woo me, King Ivar, I would advise against it. You’ll just be wasting your time.” With that, you stand up and walk away from him and out of your room.

Ivar watches you leave, a smile slowly creeping onto his face. He knows it’s going to be a challenge to win your affection but that’s part of the fun, isn’t it? In the end, if he manages to do this, it will be one hell of a story. It will be something the two of you can look back on and laugh at.

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kingofkingdom-archive · 4 years ago

Text

Your Wish Is My Command

Pairing: Maxwell Lord (WW84) X Fem!Reader

A/N: Thank you all so much for the love on my last story! I’m grateful for all the feedback and can’t wait to get back to anyone who’s replied or reblogged it or whateva. This one’s pretty different - Recovery was mainly plot with a bit of porn, this is... well, the opposite of that. ;) As always, heed the tags/warnings, and again there is no use of Y/N here.

Rating: Explicit (18+ only!)

Summary: You have a gift - a powerful, unique, dangerous gift, and King Maxwell wants to take full advantage.

You’ll let him.

Warnings: mostly smut, Maxwell being an absolute jackass (no redemption arc here folks), you encouraging and very much liking the jackassery, brief mention of abuse/trauma, greedy authoritarian behavior, kinda spoilers for ww84

Tags: semi-public sex, exhibitionism, royalty kink (?), unprotected sex, implied and/or inferred consent (i.e. not explicit but there), Maxwell’s POV (until very end), fingering, p-in-v sex, come marking

Word Count: 3.4k

"The messenger you requested, reporting back from the northern provinces, sire."

King Maxwell of the house Lord, sitting in the throne gifted to him by birthright, dismisses the servant with a wave of his hand. He's become quite irritated with the futility of his efforts concerning this matter, and therefore has little patience for further delay. The future of his lands, his wealth, his power, rests on the shoulders of these menial workers and the news they provide. It bears no repeating that should they continue to come up empty-handed, someone is going to lose their head.

He needs the girl, and then it will be sealed. He will crush all opposition and assert his dominance over the entire region, coast to coast.

The messenger, a boy no more than 15, scurries into the room. His hair is tousled under his cap, which he hastily removes in the presence of the king. He bows, deeply and with a flourish, before standing upright.

Max watches with disinterest, legs spread over the velvet seat and head resting on his fist. His rings dig into his temple.

"We believe we've found her, sire."

That grabs his attention. He sits forward, both hands gripping the arms of his throne.

"You believe you have? Have you or have you not?"

The boy swallows, growing pale. "We-we have, your majesty. It's just, uh, we-we can't p-p-prove it's her until she demonstrates the gift."

The king groans, rolling his eyes and rubbing a hand over his face. These people are impossible.

"Where is she, then? Have you at least brought her along?"

The boy nods frantically. "Yes, your majesty. She's been quartered in the guest wing, with two guards to watch her."

Immediately, Maxwell stands. Everyone in the room looks up at him, and he adjusts his sleeves. The boy is nearly trembling.

"Well, then take me to her," he orders, and the boy hesitates.

"Now!"

The messenger boy practically trips over his own feet in haste to correct his error. He sets a quick pace to the guest wing in order to account for the king's long strides, head bowed and arms stiff as he does so.

The room is located to the east of that which houses his throne, on the third floor, overlooking the orchards. Maxwell follows the boy, wooden-soled shoes echoing on the gleaming marble floors of his palace. Mirrors line each hallway, along with fine art ranging from rare vases to family portraits.

Maxwell sees the door as soon as they turn a corner, identifiable by the armored men who stand at either side of it. The boy stops and gestures to the door with a shaking hand.

"Just in here, y-"

"I can see that," the king barks, ignoring the boy completely. "You are dismissed."

He hears footsteps retreat quickly down the hall as he checks his appearance in a mirror. Not a hair out of place, not a wrinkled seam in sight. The king sighs, smiling as he admires himself. He takes a moment before turning to the door, the door that hides behind it wealth and prosperity like nothing he's ever known.

The guards simply bow as he approaches them. Maxwell knocks twice on the door and pushes it open.

Inside there is a single room, with a bed and chest of drawers and a vanity. There is a balcony, with glass French doors, through which he can see the shape of a woman standing and looking out over the scenery.

She leans one hip against the stone railing, and as Maxwell walks forward he can see that she holds a goblet of wine in one hand. Her dress flows in the light summer breeze, and her hair is decorated in intricate braids, ribbon laced throughout.

The girl does not see him, yet. He stands in the doorway, hands clasped behind his back, watching her.

"Is it true?" he asks, after he's looked his fill.

The young woman starts, a gasp escaping her lips. She turns to look towards the voice she has heard and startles again, seeing the king himself staring quite intently at her.

"Your majesty," she breathes, a smile ghosting across her lips. She bows deeply and then looks up at him, eyes bright and playful.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, my dear. I've heard many... extraordinary things about you."

Maxwell is immediately taken with her. Not only is she quite beautiful, despite her pauper's clothing, but she is one of few who have not reacted to him with fear or malice. Most begin shaking when they see his face; she, however, seems quite happy to see him.

"Oh, sire, the pleasure is entirely mine," she responds, voice soft, like music to Max's ears. "What things could you have heard about someone as lowly as I?" Her words are humble, but he senses a hint of teasing in them - as though she knows exactly what he's heard, but just wants him to say it.

"You are rumored to possess a very unique skill, one that I am most interested in learning about." He plays along, because her elusiveness frustrates him much less when she's right in front of him.

The king is a very visual man.

He steps forward, fully onto the balcony now. She backs up until her back hits the railing, smile never leaving her face, even as the king crowds into her.

"I possess many skills which I would be happy to demonstrate to you," she says, and Max does not miss the meaning she intends to convey in those words. His eyes darken, his blood running hot at the thought of the many things she could give him. The things he could take from her willingly, without the hassle of a fight.

"It is said that you grant wishes," he murmurs, looking down at her. Max finds he quite likes this view, her looking up to her king. "One must only touch you and state their wish, and it will be so."

The girl chuckles, and daringly takes a sip of her wine. Maxwell grins, before reaching a hand up and grabbing the wine from her grasp. He tosses the liquid out over the ground below and carelessly throws the goblet over the edge to follow its contents.

The girl does not bat an eye.

"What you have heard," she mutters, eyes slipping down to his lips and back up again, "is true."

The king runs his hand up her side, settling at her ribs just beside her breast, savoring the way she shivers at his touch. His fingers splay out over the bare skin of her back, warm and soft and hinting at more.

He dips his head down so that his nose brushes against hers, mouths nearly touching.

"Is there a limit," he breathes, because he knows he must ask this, "to your generosity, my dear?"

The girl smiles, placing a hand on his bicep. Her small fingers feel divine against him, even there.

"No," she whispers back.

Maxwell hums, stroking his thumb idly along her warm, soft skin. He needs to confirm that she's telling the truth, as tempting as it is to believe her outright. The way she's looking at him... she'd let him do anything to her. The thought is as enticing as it is dangerous.

"I wish to find a raven's feather in my shirt pocket," he says, and then feels a slight breeze on the back of his neck.

The king reaches into his pocket, and his fingers brush against exactly the object he wished for. He pulls it out to show the girl. She smiles and runs a hand up to his shoulder, resting her wrist there. His loose linen shirt, which flutters lightly in the wind against his tanned skin, is perfect for a summer's day like this - and when he feels the warmth of her hand through it he thanks his past self for selecting it this morning.

"What a remarkable gift you have," he comments, and tucks the feather behind her ear.

An endearing blush rises to her cheeks, and though she ignores it, the king takes notice. "Thank you, your majesty."

At that moment, an idea forms in his mind. It's devious, downright lecherous and more the act of some tavern drunkard than a king, but she is sure to react well, if he's gauged her correctly.

"You said there's no limit on the wishes you can grant a single person?"

"Yes, sire. I did."

A smirk forms on the king's face. "Then I wish, my dear, for you to be naked."

The wind around them picks up again and the girl gasps. In the blink of an eye, her plain, beige dress has disappeared, leaving nothing behind. She is a vision, bare and beautiful in the midday light like this.

Maxwell is immediately hard. Not only is there a gorgeous, naked woman before him, but his absolute, unlimited power has just been confirmed and lies at his fingertips. He is unstoppable now, now that he has her.

The girl's hands fly up to grasp at his shoulders as his own trace over her curves. Her hips, her waist, her thighs - one of which he brings up to hook around his own hip - all of it is open and shimmering before him.

"They said - in my village, they said you are a monster," she says, though her words trail off into a moan as one of the king's hands finds her breast. He tugs at her nipple, squeezing and pulling at the supple flesh, drawing sweet sounds from her pink mouth.

"Is that so?"

She nods. "I would look at your portraits and - and think... I'd think, no... no man so handsome could be so evil."

The king laughs, dipping his head to lick at her neck. She tosses her head back, giving him full access to the elegant column of her throat.

"And even... even if you are what they said... I don't - I don't care."

Maxwell groans just as she says it, biting a bruise into the junction between her shoulder and neck. He trails bites and kisses down her collarbones, leaving his marks across her unblemished skin.

"I am," he murmurs into her ear, smoothing a hand over her stomach so that his middle finger comes to glide over the thick hair that covers her mound. He dips it into her folds, rubbing softly at the wet, slippery flesh there until she moans, high-pitched and needy. He grins, licking his tongue into the shell of her ear.

"I am a monster, my dear," he whispers. "Every vile thing they said about me is true. And... I wish to fill my personal vaults with triple the gold. I wish to increase my fleets tenfold, with loyal soldiers to match. I wish to never see you leave these palace grounds so long as I live."

The wind picks up considerably around them. The king presses a finger against her opening, hot and dripping for him, and slides it in. Her moans are heavenly, loud and unashamed as he violates her in the open, where anyone could look up and see them. Her cunt opens for his finger, the gold and precious jewels of his rings swallowed by her sweet embrace. Her hands grip at his neck while her leg draws him closer. He adds a second, and it enters just as easily.

The king begins to fuck her with his fingers, watching as the muscles in her stomach tense and her eyes go glassy with the feeling.

"I wish to never be challenged by anyone for the throne," he grunts out. The girl moans at his words, and he realizes that she likes it. Not just the way he's touching her, but that he's making his wishes as he does it. He grins at her, predatory, and cups her ass with the hand not currently knuckle-deep in her pussy. His fingers dig in, sharp and strong and unyielding, surely leaving bruises in their wake.

"You like granting my wishes, darling? You enjoy giving me power, worshipping your king?"

She nods, mouth half-open. "Yes, your majesty." Her voice is breathy, the sound of it nearly knocking him out with the way it draws blood from his brain to his cock.

Speaking of which.

Maxwell thrusts a third finger into her cunt, the stretch made easy by the slick leaking out of her profusely. She wails, hands scrabbling at his neck and shoulders and back and the collar of his shirt.

"Take me out," he orders, and she pauses to look at him, confused. "Take me out of my trousers, my dear. Feel how hard I am for you."

She gasps and her hands fly down to the button at the crotch of his pants. Quickly she fumbles it open, and his hard member pushes up into her palms. The girl gives the king's dick a squeeze, and he grits his teeth, moaning.

"I wish to claim all of the lands in the south as my own. I wish to have loyal subjects in every village and town, that no one may ever defy me again. I wish to have any traitors killed without question."

The girl's moans have increased again as she rubs and caresses his cock. Her hands disappear for a moment as she leans back, licking a long stripe from her wrist to fingertips, and returns to her task.

Maxwell groans, dropping his head forward to press his nose against her skin, breathing in. She smells faintly of lavender, a crop that grows abundantly in the north, sweet and fresh. His tongue darts out to lick away a drop of sweat that rolls down her collarbone. Her hands squeeze and pull at his cock, thumbing at the head and slit and dipping down to fondle his balls on every other stroke.

It feels positively exquisite, but he wants to put his dick to use elsewhere. Somewhere tighter, warmer, wetter.

The king removes his fingers, drawing a whine from the girl. The noise of it is obscene in itself, squelching and sticky as her cunt tries to cling to his fingers and the jewels that adorn them. He chuckles, lifts his head to meet her gaze, and brings his fingers up to his mouth and licks away her essence. She watches, rapt, as he makes sure to get every inch of the three digits that were inside her. The sight of it makes her keen, high pitched noises spilling out of her lips and eyes watering with desperation and need for him.

The king laughs, the taste of her on his tongue. Someday, he swears, he'll taste this sweet nectar straight from the source.

Now is not the time.

He brings his spit-soaked hand down to his red, throbbing cock, giving it a few strokes. His other hand slips up to grasp her waist. The girl lifts her leg further, resting her heel against his ass, helping him to guide his length into her.

"What else do you wish for, my king?" she asks, just as the head of his cock notches at her opening. With a grunt, Max pushes in.

Her words, combined with the feeling of her pussy stretched around his dick, causes his vision to blur and images to flash in his mind of what's now possible with her gift at his disposal. He pushes in further, drawing another moan from deep within her throat.

"I wish... I wish..."

"Your wildest fantasies, my king..." she urges, grip tightening on his neck and shoulder. "Anything is possible. What do you -- oh!"

As her words soak into his skin, he pushes in further and further, until his balls are nestled squarely at her ass. She's pushing him to take, rather than to give, unlike so many who surround him. It breathes fire into his veins, this woman who's encouraging him to do all the selfish, power-hungry things he'd do anyway, all while he fucks into her like this.

The king draws out and pushes back in in one smooth motion, stealing the breath from her lungs. He presses his lips against hers as he speaks, as he sets a rough pace, fucking her into the stone railing.

"I wish to never fall ill or suffer injury in battle. I wish to have the unwavering allegiance of every foreign leader, and that they will defer to me in all international affairs. I wish for my reign to be the longest this nation has ever seen. I wish to live longer than any other man, and I wish to have you here at my disposal for the entirety of my long life. I wish to never succumb to old age."

By now, the wind is tossing her hair and whistling around them, but Maxwell does not care. He's thrusting into her roughly, recklessly now, and all he can hear are her sweet, delicious moans. Her pussy clenches his cock just so, and he sees nearly sees stars at the feeling. Her tits bounce as he fucks into her, her nudity on full display but only to be taken advantage of by him.

Maxwell adjusts his grip on her waist and thigh, maneuvering her around so that now he's taking her from behind. She leans forward on the railing, looking out over the palace grounds.

"Isn't it beautiful, darling?" he breathes, gripping her ass cheeks now, pumping in and out with increased fervor. "Looking out onto your lands, as far as the eye can see..."

She merely responds with moans, punched out of her with each thrust, and Maxwell feels her cunt throb in a way that tells him her orgasm is imminent. He reaches a hand around and searches for her clit, knowing he finds it when she shouts out. He rubs a finger against the sensitive, pulsing nub until she comes apart, writing and screaming on his cock.

Max feels his own climax approaching, and just before he tips over the edge, he withdraws his cock. Taking himself in hand, he strokes a few times and cums directly onto her ass and lower back, marking her up with his potent, royal seed.

Chest heaving, the king runs his hands through his own semen as it cools on the girl's backside. He rubs it into her skin like a masseuse might a fragrant oil.

Maxwell steps back, admiring his conquest. The girl is still leaning against the railing, head bowed and naked as the day she was born.

"I wish for you to be my queen."

The words are a surprise even to him, though he's not shocked at his own impulsivity; that is a trait of his that has followed him from childhood onward.

The girl turns to look at him.

"You have to be touching me for it to work, sire." She doesn't sound angry with him, which is a relief, though he'd never show it.

"I know, my dearest. I wish it, but I won't compel you."

At that she turns to face him fully. She's got that fucked-out look on her face, to be sure, but now there's something else in her eyes.

"Are you asking me to marry you, King Maxwell?" Her smile is sly, something befitting a woman of much higher status than herself. It makes his cock twitch in a valiant effort to get hard again.

"I suppose so."

"In that case, my answer is yes," she says, and pulls him in by his shirt collar for a searing kiss.

The next morning, you wake up sore in an unfamiliar bed.

You look around for a moment, taking in the luxurious decor and faint smell of roses, until you remember where you are. Who you are, now.

Your head rests not on a pillow - something much warmer than that. It rises and falls softly, and then you realize there's a weight around your waist that feels distinctly like an arm. Lifting your head just slightly, you see the king himself asleep above you, face soft and youthful in rest.

As you lay your head down on his chest to fall back asleep, you can't help but think of the people back in your village. The horrors you endured at their hands once they learned of your gift. The nightmares you still have because of what they did.

You think of how much they suffer under the rule of the king - of your husband - and you fall asleep with a smile on your face.

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canyouhearthelight · 3 years ago

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The Miys, Ch. 151

This chapter has been one that I have been dying to write for a while. I was worried that @baelpenrose would resist the idea, but he very much thought it was hilarious. As always, his input and riffing on this chapter has very much made it better and better.

However, it also made the chapter longer, lol. But there is just no way to trim it down without losing something that makes it all work, so this week is nearly double my normal length... break everyone’s heart, right? ;)

“I don’t like these numbers,” Parvati grumbled - as much as she was capable of grumbling - as she scrolled through the final counts of approval ratings on her and Hannah’s inaugural Food Festival.

The statistics had been dropped into our inboxes that morning, in the static of about a thousand other notifications now that Derek had finished the stress-test. Also included were the results of the last three invasion-prep drills, which I was in the process of scanning over.

“How bad are they?” I asked, half listening for a number. The drills were trending better, which was a good sign that the moves were effective.

Dismissing her display with a gesture of disgust, she sighed. “Seventy-four percent approval rating.”

I arched a brow and glanced over. “Did you adjust for those who did not attend?”

The glare she sent me wasn’t seen so much as felt. “Of course I did. First thing I ran…”

“Are you filtering by the day the comments came in?”

“I -” Bingo. She huffed. “No! These are intended to be ratings for the entirety of the event!”

I started scrolling through my own statistics. “Chart them out by the date the ratings came in, filtering out everyone who didn’t actually attend.”

A pause. “Oh… Oh! It’s showing ninety-three-point-four now!”

“Et voila,” I murmured. Louder, I clarified, “People like to weigh in early, and those who object in general tend to speak first.”

“I see that… how’s it going over there?” she asked, smoothing her braid over her shoulder as she turned to look at me directly.

“We are improving with every drill, marked upticks since the relocations. Arthur should be here in about - “ I glanced at a clock, “Seven minutes to go over next steps.”

Alistair breezed over to swap my empty bulb of cold coffee for a fresh one of water. “The appointment is in fifteen minutes.”

Parvati beat me to the punch. “He is also compulsively early, meaning…. Six minutes now.”

He rolled his eyes hard enough that I wanted to giggle. “He doesn’t even have the decency to be fashionably late. Appalling.”

Surely enough, Arthur paged at the entrance - out of some sort of manners I accidentally instilled in him - exactly five minutes prior to our scheduled appointment. As he breezed into my office, he managed a half-assed glare at Alistair for abruptly turning away and focusing on my schedule rather than his usual tendency to get a beverage for any newcomers. “Okay, updated data on drills isn’t what I want it to be.”

I laughed. “You’re joking, right? Your team and Michael’s haven’t gotten past deck four by more than three percent in the last seven exercises.”

“Any percent above zero is unacceptable,” he grumbled. I chalked it up to the indignity of being forced to get his own tea from the console.

Almost as though to spite Arthur, Alistair made a point to set a refreshed water bulb in front of everyone except the professor. “There are guards on the other levels for a reason,” he suggested drily.

“And I would rather those guards be idle, thank you,” Arthur threw back in a near-venomous tone.

“Us guards would rather be prepared for any eventuality, which you may do well to plan for in your petty drills.”

I didn’t even try to intervene. Clearly there was some blatantly disagreement between my admin and my friend, and I was exhausted from trying to make them cooperate.

“If I’m doing my job, you should be so grateful as to be idle,” Arthur drawled.

Alistair scoffed. “As if being left to rest and get fatter than a Christmas goose is a blessing…”

“You’ll live longer!”

“And get lax in my duties, which I will not stand for!”

“Get fat! Get lazy! LIVE! I don’t care! I’m not going to be lax in my duties to allow you the opportunity of getting practice at fighting.” Standing, Arthur buried both hands in his hair, but it looked less like he was running his fingers through it than pulling on it. “Are we really discussing this when we are training to fight in living body condoms?”

“I need to defend the Archives!”

“And Michael and I need to defend everyone! Us doing our job means you don’t need to do yours.”

My neck snapped back at the vehemence in his tone. This wasn’t their normal sparring… they may have never truly gotten along, but even in the beginning it was never so vicious.

To my further alarm, Alistair took a long stride forward and stared down his nose at Arthur. “We both know that she - “ his hand flung out to point at me “is either the luckiest or unluckiest person in existence. You can’t really believe that, in an actual assault on this ship, that she won’t be in danger. Which will place Tyche, the Archives, Derek Okafor, and Samuel Richardson in equal danger. You aren’t an idiot, you know this.” The hand pointing toward me turned, and time seemed to slow down as he stabbed Arthur in the sternum with it, punctuating each of his next words. “Stop lying to yourself.”

“Poke me again, and the finger comes off.”

“I would dearly love to see you try.”

Hannah and Parvati had jumped to their feet when Alistair approached Arthur, but were now slowly moving around to my position, safely behind my desk. Hannah hissed at me through clenched teeth, “You had to tell them to fight it out.”

“I thought they would use a gym, not the damned office,” I hissed back.

Before she could respond, Alistair spoke again. “You aren’t the only one on the Ark who wants to protect everyone. You need to trust us to do our bloody jobs.”

“The last time I trusted anyone else to protect people, I lost fourteen students,” came the ground out response. “I’m not backing down on this.”

“You will, or I will sedate you and strap you to a medical berth for the next four months.” Alistair stepped back and crossed his arms with finality.

A trickle of nerves ran down my spine as I watched Arthur clench his fists and release them. “You think the solution to everything is to tie it up, I swear.”

“Stop changing the topic. I am deadly serious, Farro.”

Arthur turned away from him, waving him off. “Try something else, you would never just sedate me for months on end.” Before we could stop anything, Alistair leapt forward and put Arthur in a headlock, only to be immediately flipped over the other man’s shoulder and onto the table. “Tch. Sloppy. I know you can do better.”

“I thought you wanted me to get fat and lazy,” Alistair grunted as he sucker-punched Arthur in the stomach and rolled for the other side. Once on his feet, he eyed Arthur carefully as he circled the table. “You stubborn ass, you know I am right. You are putting everyone in the lower levels at risk by not running preparedness drills with them, because you don’t want to factor in the fact that one of the offensive teams could fail.”

“We don’t have the luxury of failing, so no. If we do our jobs correctly, everyone who matters will be safe at the other end of the Ark.”

They didn’t seem to be at each other’s throats anymore, but the arguing wasn’t getting anywhere. “Guys - “ I tried.

Both men turned and practically screamed at me with their glares to stop talking. Oookay. I held up my hands in surrender and decided to let them sort it out their way.

Damned if the console wasn’t on the other side of them, though. I couldn’t even get popcorn and a drink.

Alistair blew a harsh breath through his nose. “If you won’t include the lower decks in your drills, I will start sparring with Jokul.”

“He would kill you,” Arthur barked in the most miserable laugh I’ve ever heard.

“God forbid,” Alistair mocked. “If I were gone, who would make your tea in the morning.”

“The same person who picks up the socks that magically appear all over my quarters every day, obviously. Worthington, I’m serious, he could really hurt you. He has really hurt me. And Charly.”

That last part was dismissed with a wave. “Madam Charles the First put the fear of herself into him.”

“And you haven’t. He could kill you by accident, and he’d never forgive himself.”

“Maybe that wouldn’t be the case if you would let me train more!”

Arthur groaned and ran a hand down his face. “You are an adult, we’ve talked about this. Train all you want, with whoever you want - Charly, Sophia, Tyche… hell, train with Evan or Michael, I don’t care. Just, not Jokul.”

When did they talk about this? I wondered. It had to be during a sparring session or something, because it definitely wasn’t in my office during one of our meetings. A glance at Hannah showed she was watching everything unfold like it was the most riveting show she had ever seen, and Parvati’s squint of consideration wasn’t much better.

“As you said, I’m an adult. Perhaps I should take your advice, and train with Charly - “

“See - “

“- and Jokul. She will make sure I don’t get hurt.”

Arthur flung his hands up in frustration. “You are so stubborn, I swear!” Growling, he paced in a circle. “Fine! Train with Charly and Jokul. IN the bivouac suit, though! And I don’t want to hear a word when you end up confined in a med bay yourself.”

Alistair’s smug grin showed just how much he seemed to care. “At least I would be spared of picking up the trail of dishes that seem to follow you around.”

“For the love of - they are my quarters! Mine! And I don’t want to hear about it when your bloody socks are constantly getting lost behind my sofa!”

Oh. Oh no. Nonononononono.

“My socks can go wherever they fucking want to, when I am constantly cleaning your disgusting whiskers out of the sink!”

“You know what would fix you having to clean whiskers out of the sink? I could just stop shaving altogether. How about...that…” Arthur trailed off and very slowly turned toward the three of us behind my desk with a look of dawning horror.

And I tried. I really, really tried not to laugh. I could feel my face reddening, my chest aching with the effort of holding it in.

Hannah’s snort was my undoing. As soon as that tiny noise escaped her, all three of us erupted into hysterical, stomach-cramping, tearful laughter. I felt stabbing in my arm as Parvati dug her nails in, trying desperately not to fall. Unfortunately for her, Hannah grabbed me at the same time and all three of us toppled to the floor. The sight of Arthur rolling his eyes and crossing his arms only made me escalate from laughing to shrieking in hysterics and relief.

I couldn’t speak for the other two ladies, but I thought the two men were going to end up killing each other… At no point did I think they took the other option when I told them to either fight it out or….

I gasped for breath, trying to get myself under control. Wobbling to my feet with the help of my trusty desk and a couple yanks to free my shirt from Parvati’s desperate clutching, I pointed between them. “This… how long? Can’t believe… didn’t figure it out.”

“Not everyone is as… public… as you, Conor, and Maverick are,” Arthur snarked at me. “You know, private lives should be private and all that?”

“Must be for you,” I confided in Alistair’s direction, where he had turned his back to our fit. “He’s never not told me when he was dating someone. Or thinking of dating someone. Or potentially interested in seeing if he was interested in dating someone… Best friend privileges and all that.” While I waited for Alistair to respond, my mind whirled through all the things I had brushed off before but were very obvious in retrospect.

Glancing at Arthur for a hint yielded nothing but a flat stare that all but declared in flashing lights You Aren’t Stupid.

I tilted my head at that, and kept thinking. There had been genuine animosity on Alistair’s side in the beginning, and not a small amount of needling on Arthur’s. So I knew it wasn’t something that had always been going on. My mind came to a screeching halt, however, when I remembered something - the day Alistair, Tyche, and I decided that, when I vacated my position on the Council, they would vacate roles as well to leave behind a ‘clean slate’. “Four years, holy shit,” I gasped. “Four years!?”

Finally, Alistair moved. His back was still to us, but his arms went limp by his sides, and his head dropped down toward the floor. “It would be unseemly to have the new Councilor of Education in a relationship with the attache to the Councilor for Resources and Engagement. Or formerly in a relationship, should things not end well.”

“And since he won’t be taking his position until we are on Von,” I put together, “You are okay to serve out the rest of my term, just not Hannah’s or Parvati’s.”

“Correct.”

“Huh. That makes sense,” I admitted before hopping up to sit on my desk, the chair being a lost cause on the other side of two women who were still sniffling and giggling on the floor. “I learned a lot today.”

“Uh huh,” Arthur confirmed drily. “And it had better stay in this office.”

“What?” I managed a pretty convincing confused face before pretending to realize what he meant. “Oh! The relationship thing. Yeah, cool, whatever. That’s not what I was talking about, but you’re good.”

“Dare I even ask what you meant?” Alistair ventured, finally turning around so that he could give me a warning look.

“Uh, isn’t it obvious?” I asked, shaking my head and spreading my hands, palms up. When they both just stared at me, I finally broke and grinned. “Dude. You two are freaking slobs.”

The squeaking noises coming from the vicinity of my feet told me that no further work would be getting done for the rest of the day.

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#the miys #found family #humans are weird #science fiction #aliens #apocalypse #humans are space orcs #humans are space fae #earth is space australia #post apocalypse #post post apocalypse #original science fiction #original sci fi #original writing

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restingdomface · 5 years ago

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Lan Wangji makes extremely deadpan videos of his daily life with Wei Wuxian and their kids and nephews (and nieces if JC and JYL had more). This would include:

*shows a video of LWJ staring out the window for a solid thirty seconds, face entirely unchanged and somewhat disappointed, turns camera around to show Wei Wuxian and the kiddos putting mentos in soda bottles and trying to chuck them at each other, camera pans back to his face, still entirely devoid of emotion*

That one time Jin Ling got stuck up a tree and Wei Wuxian tried to get him down and also got stuck up there and now the other kids are looking for a ladder while LWJ just watches them from the patio, drinking tea. The kids finally give up and shamefully come to LWJ and ask him for help, he gets his husband and nephew down without a word.

The one where he buried 5yo A-Yuan in a pile of bunnies and got scolded by Lan Xichen for it because they might bite him if they get annoyed with him.

There is an entire compilation of rabbits that won’t leave him alone. Climb into his lap. Follow him with every step. Get excited when he comes outside. Hear a guqin and start looking for him. Just. He’s the rabbit whisperer. One of the black ones is just about always with him.

Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian interacting in any capacity is going to involve a lot of hitting each other and pushing each other over. Only-child kids think they hate each other, but people with siblings are all ‘no no, siblings are just Like That’. People think Yanli is all innocent till they realize she def only tells them to stop when she thinks they might actually get on each other’s nerves. She’s in the ‘boys will rough house and probably only have one collective braincell’ category.

People won’t stop asking him if he speaks so he vaguely makes mentions of having extremely low verbility. They ask if he does sign and he’s not really sure how (lol cause words hard) to explain to them that sign doesn’t really help when the issue is more of him not having much to say tbh. This is apparently the wrong thing to say because then people start being all ‘yeah I get you, I’m pretty dumb too, at least you’re pretty’ and he’s just sorta sitting there with this smacked fish look on his face while WWX can’t stop laughing next to him at the very idea of someone calling his husband slow. Wow. LWJ just sorta finally gets out that he has like two degrees and teaches giqun lessons and it’s amazing. The kids find out about it and can’t stop laughing for hours.

“Hey, why did you name your son ‘sorrow and longing’?” *commense 10 minute video of that time Wei Wuxian got arrested for something to do with a satanic ritual and that’s when LWJ ended up with custody of his adopted son for the next three years and he was in a really angsty mood tbh so it just kinda happened* not a single commenter expected that, even less so when he mentions that they weren’t even together at that point

Films what the viewers think is a prank at first, where he pours a dangerous amount of chili powder into a mug of hot chocolate (with a completely straight face) and then brings it to WWX who takes a drink and makes a dreamy little sigh and goes ‘you always know how to make it just like I want it’ and no one is sure how to react to this video. It’s like watching someone peel and eat a lemon.

You know that video of the girl with the deadpan voice saying she went downstairs to take a shower and there was something brown in the bottom of the tub but it turned out to be potatoes and she’s all ‘not a problem I was expecting, but a problem I can handle’? Okay so that’s how he talks in every video. WWX hands him a baby and he talks to them exactly like that. People ask if he’s good with kids and WWX is all ‘yeah, he’s not just a rabbit whisperer, he’s a baby whisperer too, he’s super great with kids’ *shows LWJ talking to a baby in That Voice while the baby looks at him in utter adoration*

“What’s it like growing up gay? Do you ever get shit for it?” LWJ.exe has stopped working, he has only met one straight couple the same age as him and they’re his sister in law. His brother has three boyfriends, one of which is his brother-in-law. He doesn’t know what a het-er-o-sexual is and he doesn’t want to. Pretty sure his uncle is acearo and hasn’t seen his parents in like 20 years.

LWJ: ‘I apologize for being so emotional in my last video.’ *viewers scrambled to find what video he meant because they ain’t ever seen that man emotional before but end up finding a video where Sizhui told him he loved him and called him papa and gave him a hug while WWX filmed, you can barely see LWJ’s left eye twitching and he pets Sizhui’s head for a moment* viewers are very confused on how this constitutes emotionalism.

Viewers ask to see his brother ‘you know, the one who apparently has three boyfriends’ and LWJ posts a video of LXC passed out on a couch with like three fully grown men all in various states of sliding off onto the floor while the teens play a game of ‘who can stack the most random objects on uncle’s bodies without them waking’ because apparently LWJ and WWX were gone for a weekend and the uncles were supposed to watch the kids (like, all ten of them probably, there’s probably a lot of kids) and it’s Sizhui filming the whole thing cause he’s the ‘good one’ and never does bad things. But he’s also like Auntie Yanli and is totally gonna egg them on from the sidelines.

WWX hands LWJ literally any food and LWJ will eat it all with a completely straight face but as soon as WWX is turned around LWJ is chugging a glass of milk with a look of death on his face. The kiddos straight up can’t stomach his cooking.

😭 someone asks why their hair is all so long and LWJ puts up a video of chatty adorable Sizhui braiding WWX’s hair while he tells him about his day at school. It’s. Too. Cute.

The never ending debate on if LWJ’s deadpan personality/speech is acting or not. No matter how much everyone assures them he’s really just Like That people just aren’t convinced.

Someone points out several times that in their house they have a room with a satanic symbol on the door. That’s just WWX’s home office it’s all good. This is treated as ‘lol WWX is so dramatic’ for like four whole weeks before LWJ posts a video of Sizhui standing outside the office looking nervous. ‘What’s wrong?’ He says. ‘Dad called me into his office.’ Sizhui replies. ‘WWX must be a very strict father,’ the viewers think. That’s not it. That’s not it at all tbh. That video got flagged on like four different platforms and kept getting removed for graphic images and half their viewers don’t. Want. To know. What happened. In that office. (WWX doesn’t even see what the big deal was, that goat was dead when he bought it shut up.)

The others do videos sometimes too lol. Videos include

Jin Ling’s compilation of ‘Mom, what’s for dinner’ and the answer is Always Lotus root and pork rib soup. Someone asks ‘lol she must make that often’ and JL is all ‘lol often, fairly sure she got same-food syndrome, it’s always soup’.

Lan Sizhui at like 17 years old: The one true secret I’ve never told my dads? My most shameful lie? Rabbits aren’t my favorite. My favorite is butterflies. *proceeds to cuddle a bun* I’m sorry Mister Bun, but you just aren’t nearly as pretty as butterflies.

Shaky video of someone sitting on the couch, pointed at NMJ: Brother, while you’re away on vacation with your boyfriends, I don’t plan on leaving this spot for even a minute. NMJ: Oh yeah? What’ll you do when you have to use the bathroom? NHS: Listen, I found a guy on Craig’s List who’s exact fetish is lazy young men who refuse to move and also diapers exist and he’ll be my slave for the week if I let him change me. NMJ: ...I’m taking you with me on vacation. NHS: Yay! NMJ: I’m also taking your phone away. NHS: -wait, no- NMJ: Too late.

Jin Ling: JiuJiu, I spilt soda on your Valentino white belt. Jiang Cheng: *incomprehensible sputtering* -soda on my Valentino white belt-!

Sizhui: *brings Jingyi a bowl of food* Here. Jingyi: Thank you! *takes a bite, face falls in terror, gives Sizhui a betrayed look* Sizhui: Dad’s worried I’m getting sick, he said this would clear my chest cold up. He didn’t consider what horrible things it would do to my bowels instead. Please eat it, he gets sad when I don’t finish what he makes. Jingyi: *glaring* Just dump it down the garbage disposal! Sizhui: *def has a fever if he didn’t think of that* Oh. Good idea.

LWJ: *swaying in place* WWX: This bitch drunk as hell. LWJ: I’m. Gonna comit. A crime. WWX: *crying a little* I love drunk hubby times. A full shot of vodka and he’s not gonna remember any of this. Hey kids, I’m taking Papa on a walk! Sizhui’s in charge!

Zizhen: *sitting quietly on the couch while LSZ, LJY and JL all argue behind him somewhere, covering his mouth with a slightly horrified look* Jingyi: I mean, that’s not fair at all! Who HASNT made out with their cousin at one point or another? Ling: ... Sizhui: You said you’d never bring that up again please shut up. Ling: ...!!!!!! Zizhen: Amazing.

That one time the kiddos hypnotized Jin Ling into thinking he was a kitten. The adults all thought it was really weird that he was finally going through the whole ‘pretending to be an animal’ phase at like ten, but then the kiddos fessed up to learning how to hypnotize and they aren’t sure how to fix it. WWX instigated a rule that no brainwashing is allowed outside his office from now on.

People ask how WWX and LWJ met and it’s told from the POV of Lan Qiren who progressively getting drunker as he tells the story of the terrible high school romance that he had to watch between bad boy WWX and his precious baby angel nephew that made him consider quitting and how no one believed them when they insisted they didn’t get together till after WWX got out of jail for the cow incident.

#the grandmaster of demonic cultivation #the untamed #mdzs #incorrect untamed quotes #incorrect mdzs #wei wuxian #lan wangji #wangxian #jiang cheng #lan sizhui #juniors #lan jingyi #lan juniors #jin ling #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #nie brothers #ouyang zizhen #lan qiren

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babygirlkiki1016 · 4 years ago

Text

Masterlist

Chapter 9: Love Vs Rage

Chapter 10: A lovely Bond

My hand clasped over my mouth at the words I had spoken, I didn't mean for it to come out. It was as if on instinct, but Thorin didn't seem to mind, he didn't take his eyes off me. And for the first time since the beginning of this trip, I saw love and adoration in those ocean blue orbs. His cheeks turned light pink at my comment, slowly he stood his chest almost against mine.

"You love me?" He muttered, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear. "How can you love me amralime?" It was him, the same rough voice from earlier, he is the one who called me that.

"I don't know, but when I'm around you, your who my heart belongs to. It's why I left because I thought my feelings were getting in the way. I thought love was getting in the way but it was rage, I can't blame you no matter how much I want to. And I admire your bravery and courage, but throughout this quest, each piece of my heart had attached itself to you. Maybe it was your leadership or your kind words, or maybe it was something entirely different but I'm positive about one thing Myis Ravos (My raven), I love you. And...I forgive you." Tears rolled down his cheeks as he held in a sob the best he could but failed. His strong arms wrapped around me and he nuzzled his face into my neck.

"I love you too...Promise you won't leave again, promise me that we'll stay together no matter how hard this journey gets. Cause losing you just for a few hours broke me, I didn't want to move. I didn't want to do anything without you by my side." My hands slid up his back, but before I could enjoy the warm hug from him I felt his wound.

"I will if you promise to let me treat your injuries." He chucked but groaned as it hurt his chest, I helped him sit back down. The rag in my hand ran over his skin again, wiping away the blood and dirt from the surface. "Promise me you won't be so reckless, I don't know what I would do if I lost you." He grabbed my hand and kissed my knuckles lightly.

"Same goes for you." I couldn't help but smile, I didn't feel angry anymore. I felt loved and happy, I haven't felt like this in a long time. I kept cleaning the blood off, and when I was finished I took a step back to see if I missed anything.

"Alright, get into the bath I'll bring some lathers." As he begins to undress I rummaged through the basket of pink and purple bars, none was a manly type of smell but I highly doubt he would mind. "I have lavender, and cherry but beware both will make you smell like a woman." He laughed and turned around in the pool, the ends of his hair were now wet. I had this weird feeling to get in there with him, my legs rubbed together in excitement. Quickly I dismissed the thought and handed him the soaps but before I turned away he clutched my arm.

"Join me, for I am not able to flex my body like I'm used to. I believe I acquire assistance, I might just miss a spot." His fingers reach to the hem of my shirt, slowly undoing the ribbon tying it together.

"You've been bathing yourself for many years Thorin, I think you can handle this on your own." I didn't stop him from sliding my shirt down my shoulders, nor when he started to undo my bindings.

"I won't look if that's what you worried about, I trust my men but they sometimes can't help but let their eyes wander. I don't want them to see you bare." His touch leaves me, and he looks away so I'd be more open to the idea of joining him. He did have a point, I care for these dwarves but sometimes urges can take over. I shed the rest of my clothes, letting them join his that remained on the stone. He tensed up for a second as he felt the water move, he knew I was in now. "Lavender?" He held out the bar of soap, which I gladly took from him. His breathing became more rapid, he was nervous for I was too close.

"Nervous my king?" I said sarcastically as I ran the soap over his back, he leaned into my touch like it was heavenly.

"A little, I've never been in the presence of such a beautiful woman." He glanced back at me for a moment before turning forward again, he really wanted to look. "The things I said before, I didn't mean them, I meant something entirely different. At first, I was just being rude, but over time I fell for you. When I called you weak and a burden, I wanted you to go home for I do not wish to see you hurt. And when I called you a whore, it was because I was jealous of the stares the rest were giving you." Elrond was right, this entire time he loved me, but what about what he said at the bridge? Is this all just a plan to make me help him?

"And what about the bridge, when you were talking to Dwalin?"

"I knew you heard, at the moment I was trying to push you away. I too was afraid of what my feelings would bring, but when I noticed the rest started to be protective of you I realized they had accepted you as one of their own. I truly do love you, Uslukhuê kurdu, (Dragon of my heart). And I do not wish to push away my feelings any longer. If I may ask, will you let me court you?" I smiled at his offer, now that I think about it he was the one who courted me. The one who gave me more food in my bowl than the others.

"I believe you've already had, but I accept your offer Thorin." He sighed in relief, but something else remained on his mind.

"May I turn around? There is something I wish to do." I hummed in response and slowly he faced me, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to my lips which I returned. "You are mine amralime, and no one can take you from me."

~♪♠♪~

After we cleaned up, I made sure that Thorin had a new pair of clothes that was stowed away in one of the chests after I bandaged his torso. The rest took their pick of the pile, and what surprised me was that they enjoyed the design upon the cloth.

"Y/n," Thorin called with a brush and a small silver bead in hand. He sat down next to me on a stool with his legs spread apart. Without another word, I sat between them, and he began to brush my hair softly. "This is the reason we dwarves keep our hair long, so our lover can braid it. It's a symbol showing that we're taken, and I'm glad I get to share it with you. What about you? What are your counting rituals?"

"We don't have much, it's normal human ways of courting. Gifting each other with flowers and chocolates, the only different thing is the wedding. When two of my kin want to marry, they need to get permission from either the King or Queen. We may have a huge kingdom but we treat it like a small town. If they receive permission then a wedding is planned, the entire kingdom will be there to see it. You'll have your party where you mingle with guests before you do the private ceremony of the night." He brushed my hair back towards him while running his fingers through it, I leaned back slightly enjoying the sensation.

"What is the private ceremony?"

"The private ceremony seems like nonsense, but it's very important. If the two wish to go through with it, they will have a bowl of paint infused with the blood of a royal. You need the blood of a royal to make it work, but each one will paint its markings on the other. It's a private ceremony because both of the two are going to be bare when this happens, after the painting is in place they will make a promise and the paint is now infused with their skin." Setting down the brush he grabbed a lock of my hair and started to braid it, he seemed focused like it was a masterpiece.

"What happens if they break that promise?"

"It depends on the situation, if one chooses to break their promise on purpose, the one who broke the promise is not allowed to marry again. For the marking burns into their skin, that way each digonisk knows that they are not to be intimate with anyone ever again. The other who remained faithful are allowed to remarry, for the symbols will disappear. However if one breaks it by accident, say a life or death situation and it is proven to be true there is a spell that the royal can cast to remove them." I looked up at him for a second, a smirk on my face as he looks down at me in slight horror.

"Still wish for me to be yours?" That look of fear was wiped off instantly, he kissed my forehead and tilted my head back up so he could finish his braid.

"That is one way to keep someone loyal, maybe my kin should have something like that. Although yes, I wish to still be with you, until death does us part." He holds out the braid he finished. "Hold it for me." I carefully grabbed the end with my fingers as he goes to braid another lock on the other side.

"What kind of braid is this?"

"Well you have to defeat Smaug, so this braid will help you keep your hair out of your face."

"Is it true that once your hair is braided you can never take it out again?"

"Only your other can take it out and fix it, if you do it yourself it shows you do not care about the courtship. Which once I'm done, you will braid my hair as the process states."

"And I can braid it in any way I want?" A mischievous smile came across my features, which he chuckled for he knew what I was doing.

"Anyway, you want." He grabs the braid that rested between my fingers and intertwined the two together.

"Interesting, perhaps I'll braid it in front of your face to give you a longer beard."

"If I die because of my inability to see I blame you." He clipped my hair with the bead and kissed my temple while wrapping his arms around me. "Who knew you were such a prankster, I think my nephews are a bad influence for you."

"Oh please you haven't seen anything yet, back in the kingdom of Larthas I was constantly scolded by my parents for always leaving presents for the maids. One time, I put a bucket of mud on the top of her door, and let's just say she wasn't happy. It took her hours to get the mud out of her hair." He laughed as we switched places, his hand stroked my leg gently. I summoned an ethereal bead making it into a solid object, on it there lied a dragon symbol.

"So what braid are you thinking of?" I wanted it to be special, something that showed it could only be made by me.

"Choose a color."

"Red (Or whatever color you prefer)." I conjured a red ribbon and began to braid his hair. (I'll leave that up to you guys, but I would do something like this.)

Everyone's jaws dropped at my handiwork, especially Thorin, the moment he got up and looked in the mirror his heart stopped.

"How on earth did you manage to do that?" His eyes lit up with excitement but I could feel the jealousy radiating off of him. He traced the design, he almost couldn't stop staring at it. "Never mind that, come back over here I'll show what I can really do with that h/c hair of yours."

@fili-is-my-lover @kirenia15 @lunariasilver @depressedchilipepper @tschrist1 @ayamenimthiriel

#bilbo x reader #fili and kili #fili x oc #gandalf #kili imagine #the company #the hobbit kili #the hobbit x reader #thorin x reader #bofur the dwarf #the hobbit x y/n #thorin x y/n #thorin oakenshield fic #thorin fluff

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spicycreativity · 3 years ago

Text

Intertwined - Chapter 6

Chapter: 6/8

Additional Notes: Fic published in full on my AO3, WizardGlick. This is my favorite chapter 😁

Chapter Content Warnings: Blood, respiratory distress

The record player was still in the kitchen, surrounded by puzzle pieces. Patton switched it on and watched the vinyl spin in a daze. He missed Roman's boastful chatter, missed Logan's even keel. Maybe he should just give up. They clearly didn't want him around, and at a certain point, maybe it was selfish to keep badgering them.

God, he was a mess. Virgil had been too tactful to say anything during last night's Ghost Adventures marathon, but he had kicked his feet up in Patton's lap, and that was telling. It wasn't the reassuring full-body contact he longed for, but Virgil had never been big on touch. He couldn't be what Patton needed, and that was fair. It wasn't Virgil's job to take care of Patton. It was no one's job.

Janus' voice sounded unbidden in his head, reminding him in a distinctly annoyed tone, ' It's your job.'

So Patton picked himself up off the kitchen island and opened the fridge. He liked the work of cooking and cleaning. The domesticity was reassuring and sweet and safe. He cooked and cleaned because he loved. He loved Logan, he loved Roman, he loved Virgil. He wanted to see them safe and fed and contented, free to fulfill their functions because Patton fulfilled his.

As he cracked eggs into a bowl, he wondered if he loved Janus. He probably did. How could he help it?

Janus' smile was a rare thing, and that much sweeter for it. And he was so clever, so self-assured, so determined to help. This whole time, that was what was driving him. He wanted to help Thomas the only way he could, and now he was helping Patton. Because… Because he was just good. Even if he, like Virgil before him, kept that light hidden behind walls of sarcasm and bitterness. Janus was good. And Patton loved him.

He had forgotten to turn on the stove. Patton smiled at himself, because what else could he do, and turned on the stove. As he stood there, anxiously eyeing his half-finished omelette, his fingers found their way to the friendship bracelets around his right wrist. He had two there, Logan's and Roman's. They were both made of soft embroidery floss. Roman's had a little charm, a small silver 'R' that sometimes caught the light and made Patton smile when he noticed it.

He and Janus should have friendship bracelets. It could go on his left wrist next to Virgil's. Virgil wouldn't be happy about it, but… But Patton wanted it. He wanted Janus to feel accepted and loved. And there was no way to do that and spare Virgil's feelings. There was just no winning and Patton wanted, wanted, wanted more than he'd ever wanted anything.. Would it really be so bad to indulge this?

After breakfast, Patton relocated to the living room and asked the mindscape's halls for Janus. Janus did not appear, but the fog of the subconscious at the edges of the walls solidified into a hallway. Patton got to his feet and started to walk. He had never really ventured into the space that Roman referred to as 'the Dark Side,' but there was really nothing foreboding about it. The halls were still well-lit, the carpet still plush beneath his feet.

Eventually, the hall opened up to a cozy little alcove. Janus was huddled up against the wall, staring into the depths of a pure black coffee mug. He flinched when he noticed Patton, then smiled.

It was a slow, unfurling thing: first sheepish, then courteous, and finally, genuine. It lit a fire in Patton's chest, made him feel like he was glowing.

"Patton." Janus tipped his hat, peering out coquettishly from under its brim.

"Sorry," said Patton, "am I interrupting?"

"Oh, yes," said Janus, getting to his feet, "I need to have my coffee in utter silence of the caffeine doesn't take."

He sounded a little hoarse. Patton felt himself cross his arms and draw back to examine Janus, but couldn't stop it from happening. His scales looked the same as ever, more yellow than green under the light, but both eyes were glassy in a way that indicated lack of sleep. He looked tired, Patton decided, but not sick.

"Did I button my shirt wrong?" Janus asked, not actually looking down to check. He kept his eyes on Patton.

"Is there something on your mind?" Patton asked.

Janus countered this question with another question, which Patton supposed was fair: "Did you come down here just for that?"

"Well, actually…" Patton tugged at the tight, precise braid of Logan's friendship bracelet. Why was this so hard? "I thought we could-- If you wanted to--" His nerves were taking over and he was helpless to stop them, couldn't control the way his voice trembled. He started over. "So, no pressure, obviously, but I just thought it might be nice if we, you know, made friendship bracelets together." Patton held up his forearms so Janus could see. "If you want."

Tears were forming in Janus' human eye; his chest hitched with uneven breaths. Patton was already raising his arms to offer a hug when Janus turned away and started to cough. Oh.

The fit, though it sounded terrible, ended quickly. Janus straightened, drawing a yellow handkerchief back into his sleeve like a magician. "What," he said, pretending to look at his fingernails, "are the odds of you believing that was nothing?"

"It didn't sound like nothing," Patton said.

Janus sighed and leaned back against the wall, pressing his fingertips to his forehead. "Look, I didn't want to say anything, but I think that our dear benevolent prince might be a little angrier than he let on."

"You think Roman's doing this to you?" That didn't sound like him. He could be stubborn, sure, maybe even bull-headed, but it really wasn't like him to make someone sick. At least, not on purpose.

"It's not Remus," Janus said, crossing his arms. "There's nothing else wrong with me."

"It's just a cough?"

"Just a cough."

Patton tapped his fingers against his leg, thinking. "Roman's not really talking to me at the moment--"

"Typical," Janus muttered.

Not wanting to fight, Patton let this go. "But I'll see if I can… Well, I'll see what I can do."

Janus nodded, then seemed to remember something. His jaw worked for a second, his eyes darting everywhere except Patton's face. "Thank you."

Patton nodded, still inexplicably afraid. Now was his chance to leave, since Janus hadn't acknowledged his offer. If he sank out fast enough-- But what exactly was he running from? He wasn't Logic, but he couldn't deny that it made no sense to run from something he couldn't even identify. "So, um. Did you want to…?"

"Where?" Janus asked.

The trapdoor to the speakeasy opened beneath their feet. Patton's door appeared down the hall. He and Janus looked at each other in silence.

"The lighting might be a little better in my room," Patton said finally. He wasn't sure which of them had caused his door to appear. The subconscious was tricky like that sometimes.

"By all means," Janus said.

It was a little nerve-wracking to have Janus in his room. Patton wasn't quite sure why. Maybe the idea that Janus might not like it, and by extension, not like him. After all, Patton's room was as much an extension of himself and his function as his body was.

Janus stepped quietly over the threshold, holding himself still except for his eyes, which darted from object to object.

"Let me know if you start feeling all sentimental," Patton said, a thrill of nerves tingling his spine. "I don't have a lot of practice controlling my room." Janus probably didn't want to cry today, or ever. Not that he seemed like the type to get caught up in nostalgia. Like Logan, he was ruthless, cutting away what didn't serve him with the precision of a surgeon. Or so it seemed.

Janus nodded. Patton frowned. He'd been awfully quiet since Patron had extended the invitation. He almost seemed scared, which didn't make sense. They were safe in here. Too safe, if Patton let them be, sequestered in this hall of nostalgia's anesthetic haze.

"Are those California poppies?" Janus asked, striding forward to a dresser (the design of which had come from a memory of sleepovers at Thomas' grandmother's house).

"Where?" Patton asked, turning on his heel to look. It was difficult to move without tripping over the odd bin or crate of memorabilia. He found himself faced with a choice to either bend backwards to see around Janus or to stand right next to him. Far too close for propriety, they would be wedged right up against each other like the yearbooks on the far bookshelf.

Patton's heart started to race. Why? Why should he be nervous? He bent backwards, muscles aching in protest at the awkward pose, and peered around Janus' body. "I can't tell."

Janus turned, squinting at Patton's predicament, before looking down at the bins on the floor. He seemed to grasp the issue and extended a hand for Patton to take. "Come here."

Come here. Innocuous words, but the same ones he'd used to bring Patton into his arms that terrible night. Patton's heart fluttered.

He stepped over a stack of textbooks and entered Janus' space. Janus' capelet was soft and velvety against his bare arm; his sleeve a little rougher.

"Are they?" Janus asked.

The poppies were already wilting a little and Patton couldn't help but feel sad about that, even though they were imaginary. "Yes."

"How did you get them?"

"California," Patton said, the memory coming to him on a warm breeze that smelled of the outdoors. "Thomas sees them every time he gets to go."

Janus stifled a cough into the back of his hand, nodding all the while. "He wore them in his hair once."

Patton smiled, mind awash in golden light. Thomas and his friends were making a brief pit stop as they journeyed down I-5 and someone, it didn't even matter who, had spotted the blooms growing by the roadside. And they had all worn flowers in their hair for the rest of the day, bright faces made brighter by the addition of something so beautiful. "Do you like California poppies, Janus?"

"It's funny," Janus said, in a tone so devoid of sarcasm and teasing that Patton nearly did a double-take, "It never occurred to me to like them. But seeing them like this…"

He trailed off, coloring slightly, and Patton's breath caught in his throat. He understood perfectly, too perfectly, and it made him tremble.

It had never occurred to him to love Janus, until one day it did. But this-- Oh, no. Oh, no. Not like this. This couldn't be allowed. Janus glanced over at him and Patton felt his smile snap into place despite the newfound ache of wanting beneath his ribs.

"And here I thought you were going to keep me safe from your room," Janus teased.

"Oops!" Patton ran a hand through his hair. "Give me a second here; I can make a space." He thought for a moment before sitting them both down at a wooden picnic table. He imagined embroidery floss in every color, bins stacked with beads, scissors, and two rolls of masking tape just to be safe.

"Summer camp," Janus said, smiling that crooked smile.

Despite his best efforts, Patton blushed. He tried not to hate himself for it because Janus wouldn't want that. But he also knew he was being far too selfish now, wanting Janus all for himself. There was a line and he had crossed it. "Do you remember what to do?"

Janus was already pawing through the embroidery thread. Loose strands clung to his gloves and Patton watched, intrigued, as Janus' mouth curled into that not-smile he sometimes wore when he was making fun. He withdrew his hands, trailing rainbow strings despite his efforts to shake them off, and glanced at Patton, startling a little when their eyes met.

Patton wasn't sure what to say. 'It's okay' felt hollow, less than a lie. Utterly meaningless. Janus' gloves meant something to him, something that went deeper than just aesthetics. Patton understood, in that moment, what it was all for: the gloves, the high collar, the hat, the sarcasm, the biting remarks, the exaggeration. All guarding Janus' heart. He must have been very afraid. Suddenly his irritation at Patton's inability to prioritize himself made perfect sense.

"I can help you," Patton said, not wanting Janus to feel pressured into taking off his gloves. "You can keep them on, just tell me what colors--"

"Don't be stupid," Janus snapped. "It's just clothing."

"Oh," said Patton. Heat flooded his face, impending tears burning in his eyes. Understanding didn't make it hurt less.

Janus didn't say anything, couldn't, because he was muffling those awful, barking coughs into his sleeve. They sounded so much worse than yesterday. Patton stared at a skein of auburn embroidery floss. He would have to find some way to get through to Roman.

"That was inappropriate," Janus said when he resurfaced. He was a little out of breath; his breath caused loose strings to flutter.

"I understand," Patton said.

"You do?"

Here, Patton hesitated. It seemed a little rude to read Janus, as Roman would say. He had obviously lashed out because he was scared of something.

Janus winced, pressed his lips together, shifted where he sat. "I'm sorry." He wouldn't look at Patton. "I shouldn't have said that."

"We can do this another time," Patton said, "if you're not ready. I just wanted…" It seemed stupid to say it out loud now, stupid and manipulative. "I wanted you to feel accepted."

Janus tugged his gloves off without fanfare, folded them neatly, and set them down on the table. His left hand was scaled, which Patton supposed he should have anticipated. "Don't look," Janus said. Patton frowned, trying to parse this, and Janus elaborated, "I want it to be a surprise."

"Oh!" Patton said, relief flooding his chest like morning sunlight through an eastward-facing window. "Okay." He stared at the embroidery thread, thinking. He had never been all that good at color theory, but… Maybe he could do a dark green for Janus's scales, and gold because they shimmered. To represent himself, he would of course use blue thread. And for the two of them, gray. But what shade of green…? Patton picked up a skein of army green floss, then kelly green, then moss green. "Janus?"

"Hm?"

"I need to look at you."

"Oh, Patton, I'm flattered, but need?"

"Can you just give me your hand for a second?" Patton asked, blushing.

"Which one?" Janus asked archly.

"The left one."

"...What for?"

Patton, still not looking at Janus, held up the three skeins of embroidery floss. "I need to color match."

Janus let out a huff of air through his nose. "I'm much prettier than that."

Then an idea struck. "Ooh, I know what to do! I still need your hand, though."

"Alright, alright." Janus leaned over, extending his hand to Patton. He flinched a little when Patton held it in his own, but did not pull away.

"Hmm," said Patton, examining the scales and the way they reflected back the light. It took a bit of thinking, but he managed to imagine a skein of thread in the same glossy green-gold color.

Then Janus stiffened and started to cough again, his hand curling around Patton's fingers until his nails dug painfully into Patton's skin. The fit was low and ragged and rough, left Janus teary eyed and gasping.

"You're sure this is Roman?" Patton asked, dimly aware that he was still holding Janus' hand.

"Forget it," Janus said, his voice like tattered silk. "You said you'd talk to him."

"I'll go right now if you want me to."

Janus shook his head. "Are you done with my hand? If not, I have a few to spare."

"Oh!" said Patton. "Yes. Sorry." He let go of Janus's hand, knuckles aching where Janus' nails had dug in. Janus' cough must have hurt far more than he was letting on.

Right. Compartmentalize. Friendship bracelets.

Patton picked his colors, eyeballed the thread length, cut them down, and taped the ends to the table. He decided on a simple striped pattern, flat, so it could slide easily under Janus's sleeve or the cuffs of his gloves.

"So you and Remus?" Patton said after he had fallen into a rhythm and didn't need to focus quite so hard.

"We're friends, yes."

"But you said--" Patton cut himself off, embarrassed. He certainly didn't want to be reminded of that awful night, and Janus probably didn't either.

"I know."

Patton was pulling too hard. He set his threads down and added another piece of tape. "I don't get it."

Janus sighed. "I'd rather not talk behind his back, but I will say this: He was on his worst behavior when he introduced himself."

Patton considered this but couldn't think of anything to say other than 'thank God.' That seemed rude, so he just kept his mouth shut. The silence that ensued felt equally as rude, and words slipped out of Patton's mouth before he could stop himself, "Do you love him?"

Janus didn't answer. Patton was tempted to look at him, to try to read his expression, but didn't want to risk ruining the surprise. Finally, Janus sighed and Patton heard the gentle rustle of his clothing as he shifted in his seat. "Defensive sarcastic quip."

Patton dropped his threads again so he could muffle a laugh behind his hands. "Sorry, was that too personal?"

"No, no, I love talking about myself. Maybe next you can ask me about my deepest fears."

"I didn't mean to be pushy," Patton said. It was hard not to be; he was so full of love love love he just wanted to give it away like Tupperwares full of snickerdoodles, like wildflower bouquets. He wanted Janus, wanted his whole fam-ILY to know and feel it as deeply as he felt it.

And Janus especially, Patton wanted to tell him with his lips, with his hands, with his tongue. His whole body radiating love.

But just because he wanted didn't mean he could have. He ached with a selfish desire to be held again, safe in Janus' arms. But even Patton was smart enough to understand that that moment was over and done with. They had shared it, and now it was another snapshot for the shoebox Patton kept in his closet. His own memories, separate from Thomas. A testament to his personhood.

They worked in silence after that, until Patton's wandering thoughts came to rest, inevitably, on the trouble at hand. "Hey, Janus?"

"Yes?"

"What do you think we should do now? Thomas can't keep going like this for much longer, I don't think. He hasn't done anything. And I-- I'm not saying-- I'm not trying to say it's, you know, immoral to rest, but this doesn't seem healthy." And also, it did chafe Patton a little, to see Thomas being so lazy, but he could keep that to himself.

"The sooner Logan and Roman get over themselves, the better," Janus said.

"I haven't checked on them yet today." Patton heaved a sigh and tried to focus on his pattern. He had the matte gray hooked around his finger at the moment, his own deliberate reminder to compromise.

"They haven't checked on you at all."

"So, what, then?" Patton asked, struggling not to look up. "I should get mad and ignore them right back?"

"That's what I would do," Janus said. "And you did ask. But…" A long-ish pause. "As we both know, I'm always right."

Oh. Patton closed his eyes, trying not to fold over and bury his forehead in the rough wood of the picnic table. He'd never wanted to see the worst in Janus, but he'd been bracing for it all the same. And every time he held his breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop, it never happened.

That didn't mean they were never going to fight. Patton knew he was naive, but he wasn't that naive. But he had been bracing for something so much worse than this.

It was for Thomas. He had to remind himself. Janus had even said so, down in the parlor. It was all for Thomas. And Patton was sure, when it came time to make the next big decision, they would be at odds again.

But maybe… Maybe it didn't have to be so hostile. Couldn't they disagree without being enemies?

"You are always right, Janus," Janus said in Patton's voice. "And you're so handsome, and smart, too."

It was equal parts creepy and amusing, but Patton appreciated what Janus was trying to do, so he smiled. "I mean, you are smart. And h--" The word caught in his throat. They did all look very similar, though the subtle nature of the subconscious altered their appearances somewhat. It sharpened up Janus' features some, took away several inches of height, made his eyes dark and flashing. "And handsome," Patton finished weakly.

"You already said that," Janus said, voice dripping with faux-innocence.

"You're sweet, is what you are," Patton teased back.

"Finished," said Janus.

Patton blinked, thrown off, before he realized what Janus meant. "I'm almost done. Give me juuuust a second." He finished the bracelet with a practiced hand. "Can I look now?"

"Give me your hand. Then you can look."

Patton extended his left hand and finally looked over at Janus for the first time since they had started. The bright colors of the bracelet caught his eye immediately; it was an intricate weave of only two colors: bright yellow and true blue. Janus fingers were deft and gentle around Patton's wrist. He made no remarks about the purple and black bracelet already tied on.

"Oh, Janus, it's perfect!" Patton said. Hot tears welled up in his eyes. He let them fall, unashamed. It was nice to cry happy tears for once. "Your turn."

Janus pushed up his sleeve, tilting his head at Patton's bracelet. "What does it mean?"

"The green is for your scales," Patton explained, positioning the bracelet around Janus' right wrist. "The blue is for me. And the gray is.." He paused, suddenly embarrassed. "Well, it's a reminder."

One of the ends brushed against Janus' forearm and he twitched, nearly pulling out of Patton's grasp. "That tickled," he explained.

"You're ticklish?"

"No," Janus said, far too quickly for it to be the truth.

Patton smiled at him, though he knew they were a long way off from friendly touches. It struck him then just how badly he wanted that future. He wanted cuddle sessions with Janus on the couch, just the two of them. He wanted stolen kisses in the kitchen and tickle fights in bed. He wanted Janus, body and soul, consequences be damned. "Noted," Patton said. "Janus: totally not ticklish, even a little bit."

"Gospel truth," Janus said.

Patton finished tying on the bracelet and sat back. "Well…" He didn't want to leave his room, which was a sure sign it was time to go. "I'd better go check on my kiddos."

To his surprise, Janus didn't scowl or nag. He tugged his gloves back on, carefully sliding the bracelet inside the cuff. "What do you say to them?"

"Just that I'm here," Patton said. "And I love them.

"You know, Patton--" Janus got up and held the door open, breaking the spell of Patton's room somewhat-- "sometimes I think you're too good for the likes of us."

And then he was gone, sinking out before Patton could ask him what he meant by that.

Patton went first to Logan's room. Logan had maintained his silence after the meeting, not even answering to tell Patton to go away. The only hint Patton had that he was still in there was that Thomas hadn't gone completely off the rails.

"Hey, Logan." Patton knocked gently. "I'll go away soon, because I know you don't want me to bother you. I just wanted to say… Well, I'm not sure what you need right now, but I know this isn't it. So whenever you're ready to come out, I'll be here." It was so hard not to spill his guts to that plain white door. Almost like a confessional, only that Logan stubbornly refused to tell him what he had to do to earn forgiveness. "I'll go now. Come get me if you need anything, okay? I love you and I miss you." He waited a few seconds for any signs of movement within, but there was nothing.

Down the hall to Roman's room then.

The sight of Virgil seated on the floor with his back pressed up against Roman's cherrywood door made Patton pause, breaths stuttering in his chest.

He kept his distance, but Virgil had startled at the sound of his steps on the carpet.

Patton flashed him a thumbs up and cocked his head.

Virgil nodded.

Patton sank out. What else could he do? If Roman would rather talk to Virgil than to him, well… Patton couldn't blame him.

He sat down heavily at the kitchen island, staring down at the half-finished puzzle. Tears blurred his eyes and he took off his glasses as they started to fall. He was so, so sick of crying. He did it all the time. Every strong emotion moved him to tears.

He wanted to crawl back to Janus' room, relive that tender night. Just once, he wanted someone else to pick him up off the ground. He was thoroughly sick of being his own hero.

He had mostly gotten himself under control by the time Virgil popped up by the fridge. It was only his breathing that still troubled him, heavy and painful in his chest.

"Hey, Virge."

"Since when do you call me that?" Virgil asked, opening the fridge.

It was reflex more than anything that forced Patton to his feet. "I can make you something."

"You don't have to," Virgil mumbled, cheeks going scarlet under his foundation.

"I want to," Patton said. That much was still true, at least. "What are you in the mood for?"

"Uh, I was just gonna make a sandwich," Virgil said.

"BLT?"

"Sure."

Patton nodded, clenching his left hand into a fist by his side. Virgil was incredibly observant; he was bound to notice Janus' friendship bracelet. Patton wasn't sure whether to let him or to bring it up.

Virgil saved him from having to decide. "Where have you been all morning?" Patton wordlessly held up his arm, feeling for all the world like a guilty child. Sure enough, Virgil's eyes narrowed. But to Patton's surprise, no lecture followed. "Janus made that?"

"Mm-hm." Patton nodded. "I made him one, too."

"Is he wearing it?" Virgil asked, looking dumbfounded.

"Yeah," Patton said, a little emboldened now that he knew Virgil wasn't angry. "Tied it on myself."

"He let you do that? Janus?" Virgil ran both hands through his hair, looking at Patton like he'd just expressed a desire to go cliff diving while blindfolded.

"I mean, I didn't have to tie him down."

Virgil sighed through his nose and wandered to the kitchen island with a lost expression. "That's weird."

Patton opened up the fridge. "Are you okay?" he said to the condiments rack, not wanting to make Virgil uncomfortable with too much eye contact.

"Watch him," Virgil said. "Watch him like a hawk… A hawk with binoculars."

"Aww!" said Patton, picturing it. "Oh! How's Roman?"

"Conflicted," Virgil said. "I told him you've been hanging out with Janus."

Patton bit his tongue and pulled a head of lettuce out of the crisper drawer. It wasn't wrong to spend time with Janus. He loved Janus. Love was never wrong. "How'd he take it?"

"Nnnot that bad?" Virgil said. "I think it helps that Thomas hasn't gone full, y'know, Squip."

"You know I wouldn't let that happen," Patton said. He moved over to the counter and paused to take a few deep breaths. His chest hurt a little. Probably just from crying too much. But that reminded him of Janus and that worrisome, mysterious cough. "By the way, does Roman seem… in control?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you know, he accidentally made it super cold for a little bit."

"Oh," said Virgil, "yeah. He apologized for that. He's okay now."

Patton nodded, trying not to let his worry show on his face. But it crept into the corners of his mind and kept him silent as he made two BLTs. If Janus was sure it wasn't Remus and Virgil was sure it wasn't Roman… Who else could it be? Or what else?

No answers sprang into Patton's mind. He bit his lip and stabbed one fancy toothpick each through sandwiches. He slid one plate over to Virgil, mindful not to upset any stray puzzle pieces, then rounded the kitchen island to sit next to Virgil.

"You…" he started, and paused to catch his breath. "You're not mad, are you?"

"I mean, I don't love that you're hanging out with Janus. I wish you wouldn't. I wish he'd leave us all alone and go back to slinking around in the shadows like the snake he is." Virgil turned his head to look at the new friendship bracelet on Patton's arm. "But you're your own Side. It would be wrong for me to try to control you. I just really hope he doesn't hurt you, Patton."

"So you're not mad?"

"No, pop star, I'm not mad. Just worried about you."

"Thanks, kiddo."

It seemed that these days, the mindscape was just made up of one crisis after another. After spending a pleasant day with Virgil, albeit with his breaths dragging in and out of his body like the air was too thick to breathe, the next morning found Patton doubled over in a fit of coughing so intense it knocked his glasses off. He ducked right back into his room, kicking his glasses in before him, and spat out a mouthful of heart-shaped flowers onto the floor.

Hm. Uh-oh. He wasn't an expert on biology, but he was fairly sure that wasn't supposed to happen.

The blooms were pretty, though, bright magenta hearts with little white tails. Bleeding hearts, they were called.

Patton frowned. Hadn't Janus said… Yes. 'I want you to protect that bleeding heart of yours.' How ironic. Maybe. Patton could never seem to use 'irony,' right, something Logan was always quick to point out.

He coughed again, but no flowers came up this time. That was good, probably. Coughing was bad, coughing up blood was worse. Surely coughing up flowers had to be somewhere in the middle.

He stood up straight again and banished the flowers into nothingness. Was it coincidence that Janus had a cough? Was it contagious? He hadn't said anything about flowers, though.

Patton sank out, grabbing his glasses on the way. If he was coughing, then he was probably sick. He knew how to handle that.

Since Virgil rarely spent time in the living room, Patton could hole up there with tea and toast and Adventure Time on the TV. Just until he was better, and then it would be right back to trying to fix things. He wondered if Janus would be proud or whether he would just push for Patton to rest more. Maybe both.

Virgil made an appearance a few hours later, about the time that Patton felt his patience running thin. The cough wasn't getting better, but he had no full-body fatigue to make the cartoon marathon bearable. Sitting still for too long made him antsy.

"Roman invited me in," Virgil called from the kitchen, dashing any hopes Patton had for conversation. "I just wanted to let y-- What are you doing?"

"I think I'm getting sick," Patton explained, wincing as the words seemed to claw their way out of his torn-up throat.

"Are you okay?"

Patton nodded. Aside from the cough, he really did feel fine. Maybe this would pass quickly. "Tell Roman I said hi."

"Will do." Virgil gave one last, lingering look before he sank out.

This left Patton alone with the ache in his chest and the vast loneliness threatening to swallow him whole. He tried not to think too much about Janus, lest he inadvertently summon him again, but it was so hard now. He didn't ever want to be apart from Janus. It was such a pure and simple yearning that Patton couldn't even feel guilty for it (though he did feel an echo of guilt that he didn't feel guilty). But it was a desire born of love, and how could that be bad?

The only bad thing about it was that Janus didn't love him back. Of course he didn't. How could he? All he ever did was run around babysitting Patton through crying spells, desperately trying to get him to pull himself together. There was nothing remotely attractive about that. In fact, with Janus, it seemed that all Patton did was take, take, take. He was guilty of the exact behavior that had him so wrung-out and desperate in the first place. How embarrassing.

Patton coughed into the crook of his arm, catching flowers and leaves in his mouth and banishing them without looking. He'd been sick before, they all had, but never like this. He almost wished for fatigue or a headache, something to make resting a little more bearable. Right now, he just felt lazy.

A bottle of NyQuil appeared on the couch next to him, nestled up against an embroidered throw pillow. Patton looked at it. He could already hear Logan lecturing him about the dangers of misusing medication, but… Patton was sick. And he was imaginary. And Thomas probably knew better than to chug NyQuil at the first sign of illness.

It would be fine. Patton poured out a dose and drank it down with his nose plugged in the hopes of masking the alcohol-tinged artificial sweetness. He still shuddered at the syrupy sensation on his tongue. Then he sank out, changed into his pajamas, and buried himself under his covers to slip into a coma.

#sanders sides fanficion #sanders sides #moceit #spicywrites #spicywrites intertwined

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mihidecet · 4 years ago

Text

Sbi D&D AU: Tommy (3)

AKA: Tibi’s MCYT WritingTober, day 12.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Which left Tommy with the perfect chance.

The plan was simple.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They're not alone in the room.

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

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

Wilbur had made sure to fix the covers around him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Uh?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A beat passes.

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

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

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

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

"Help me push the beds together?"

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

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

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

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

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

"You're no fun, Technoblade."

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

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

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

Stifling a yawn, Tommy whispers:

"Congrats on your marriage, big guy."

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

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

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