#also yes the seafoam dress is also part of that

[rush-valley]

born of seafoam and the most primordial of the olympians, lady aphrodite!

[transhuman-priestess]

Lesson

A short story, by Ivy Michaels.

The following story contains a graphic depiction of surgery, with all the drugs and violence involved. It also includes graphic descriptions of pain. That is, in fact, the idea behind writing it.

And yes, this is smut.

“You know, dear, you’ve been such a good pupil these last few weeks.” Her voice comes to me through the curtain. I hear the click-clack of her heels on the linoleum floor, making an off-beat rhythm with the beeps and hums of monitors and pumps. She draws closer, and continues, “I think we’ve worked enough on theory, it’s time to move on to your practical lessons.”

The curtain is drawn back and I open my bleary eyes to see her. She’s dressed in the uniform she always wears. Rubberized olive drab canvas, sleeves pulled over the gloves, all seams taped over. Her face is mostly obscured by a surgical mask. Her hair is tied up under a paper hair net, though I can see a few strands of raven hair. All this despite the hood she wears with the clear face plate. I think she likes hiding her face from me, she’s never let me see it. Not all of it, not all at once.

“My darling,” she says, as kind and bubbly as ever, “you did so well on your nephrology unit last week, that I thought I’d give you a little treat!”

Images flash in my head. A slideshow of dissections. Parts of organs labeled. Ureter, renal artery, nephrons.

“Ah!” she says, approvingly, “I see you remember well!”

This is how it always is. She always knows what I’m thinking. I don’t know how that works. I have vague memories of sitting in a chair with my head in a device to immobilize it, but I can’t remember if that was a dream or an actual procedure. Memories are like that here. I know I haven’t been here long, but it feels like forever.

“I know you don’t understand, honey,” her voice falls to a gentle coo, “but don’t worry, I promise you will, eventually.”

I don’t mind it here, really. She’s very sweet to me. She teaches me things about myself I never knew. The other day, I think, she showed me where the vagus nerve is. I had forgotten what the bones in my palm are called, so she showed me how easily I could be disabled simply by applying a small electric shock to that nerve. The name of the bones was “metacarpals”.

That might seem harsh but she means well. Not in the sense that I’m rationalizing, either. I may not be able to remember why I’m here, but I sense that I am here by choice. I know it in my core It is, in fact, the only thing I know for certain.

“So, dear, are you ready?” she asks, “I’ve prepped room #5. The one with the seafoam green tile. I know it’s your favorite."

I hardly have to think about an affirmation. The bed thunks beneath me as she releases the brakes and begins rolling me into the hallway. One of the few things I recall from my time outside is this sensation, when I was very small, of being rolled through a hospital corridor on a cot. I can’t remember why I was there.

We turn a corner and my eyes come to rest on a pair of two-way doors, steel painted beige, with thin sheets of stainless to protect the doors from the impact of a gurney. Small windows of reinforced glass. The doors swing open and the cart jolts with the transfer of momentum.

Inside there are three other figures, all dressed identically to her, save for tinted, opaque faceplates. They are standing off to the side. Sometimes, they observe closely, sometimes they aren’t present at all, but always they listen to her commands, and never do they touch me without her explicit instructions. It makes me feel safe, knowing that she is the one in charge.

“Alright, dear, hold still while we move you to the table.” She grabs me by the shoulders, gently cradling me. One of the other figures grasps my legs, and together they move me onto the operating table. A second figure connects an IV line to the port in my arm. There’s a large mirror on the ceiling, so that I can observe.

“For this one, dear, you have a choice. Would you like the pain, or no?”

I want the pain. I always want the pain.

“Very well then. Paralytic only.” She nods to one of the figures, who hangs the appropriate bag on a hook above the table.

“Flex your fingers, dear.” She commands. I comply. After a few seconds I experience the sensation, curious as always, of being unable to move. An electric thrill of anticipation flies through me. It is almost time.

She unbuttons my gown, starting from the top, exposing first my breasts, then my stomach, and finally my groin. “Oh!” she says, “someone’s excited.” Of course I am. She’s never taken off my whole gown. This is something special.

“Oh,” she says, “I almost forgot, we’ll need to intubate.” One of the trio of assistants wheels over a cart with a ventilator. She takes a tube from it and tilts my head back, ever so sweetly. I feel the tube go down my throat, down past the epiglottis, my body trying to fight but finding itself disarmed by the paralytic. For ever so brief a moment I cannot breathe, and then I feel the beautiful sensation of air returning into my lungs.

“You did so well. I’m so proud of you!” she praises me as she applies tape hold the breathing tube in place.

“You know, this hood is very warm.” She says, and reaches up to unzip the hood from her suit. This is new. She hands the hood to one of the assistants, before bending down next to my ear and whispering, “I’m so proud of you.” And then she kisses me on the forehead, through her mask.

Standing back upright she says, “Okay, I’m going to make an incision…here.” she traces a line gently with her finger, from my sternum down, around my navel, ending at my pubic bone. “Are you ready?”

I am so ready that, if not for the paralytic, I think I might sob. She looks at me through the overhead mirror. I can see her smile through the surgical mask. “Very well then.”

She presses the scalpel to my flesh. Just a light pressure at first. Then, a stinging, and finally the burning, electric sensation of nerve endings being torn from their neighbors. It is the most incredible, all-consuming feeling. I can feel my brain trying desperately to force my limbs to push her away, to run from the room. I don’t want to, but I cannot, by myself, suppress the survival instinct. I feel tears well up in my eyes and flow down my cheeks.

“Very, very good.” she tells me, reaching up and stroking my hair. “You’re doing so well. Now, let’s see if you can tell me the names of everything in here.”

And gently, ever so tenderly, she slips her hand into my abdomen. I can’t remember what sex feels like, but I’m sure it doesn’t even come close to this. Knowing she’s so close to me is intoxicating. I feel her hand touch my small intestine.

“Very good!” she says, as she works her way up, to my stomach.

“That’s right” before moving on to my liver.

“That’s three for three! Very good!” the warmth in her voice fills my heart with joy. She’s so gentle. The pain is incredible, but it feels so good, because I know she’s the one causing it. I know she loves me, and I love her.

“Moving further down,” she continues, pulling her hand out, much to my disappointment. “Oh dear, don’t worry, I’ll be right back in in one moment”

And once again she plunges into my abdomen. The white-hot fire of the incision has faded slightly to merely red-hot smoldering. I feel her touch my sigmoid colon. “Excellent.”

Her hand moves to my left kidney. “Very good!”

I feel her grasp my bladder. “Perfect.”

She sighs, “It’s a shame I can’t reach your prostate from here, love.” A laugh.

“But that will be for later.” She stands and looks at one of the assistants. “Okay, sew her back up. Be gentle.” She must sense my disappointment, though, because she turns back to me. “Oh don’t worry, my dear, there’s one more thing left.”

It takes a while for the assistant to finish closing the incision in my abdomen. Time moves strangely in here, so I couldn’t say how long. By this point my body has numbed the incision area all on its own, leaving only the faint pulling and tugging of the sutures to be sent to my brain.

She walks back over and stands at the foot of the table. “You did so well there. I’m so proud of you. As a reward for how well you’ve done so far in your lessons, I’m going to perform one last procedure today.”

And with her most gentle touch yet, she pulls my legs to either side. “I know how much these bother you.” For a moment I panic, but she’s quick to reassure me. “Oh, not your legs, hon.” And it clicks.

“I’m going to cut right here.” she traces a line down the center of my scrotum. “And you’ll be rid of these forever.”

I feel the cold steel of the scalpel press in. The faint sting followed by the roaring thunder of pain. That high, heady feeling of endorphins rushes in again. I feel her, very faintly, reaching in and grabbing my right testicle.

"So, I know you hate these things. I hated mine, too.” She squeezes, hard, sending yet another rush of pain up and into my abdomen. “So I figured, why not simply take them away?” I feel the odd sensation of cold steel on my vas deferens. “Are you ready?”

I am.

I feel, for the briefest moment, a zing of pain and then the loss of signal that indicates a part of my body was severed. I feel her tying off the end.

“That’s one down. Time for the other.” Another hard squeeze on my left. “You’re taking this all so well! I’ll be sure to reward you when you’ve healed.” That same zing, that same loss of signal. I feel tears welling up. Not tears of pain, but joy, and love. I feel the repeated sting and tug and sting and tug as she sutures me back up.

“Okay love,” she says, at my side now, stroking my hair. “we’re going to push the painkillers now, and bring you out of the paralysis.” And with that, I feel the rush and the heady fuzz of opioids entering my system, the relief washing over me like a cool shower on a hot summer day.

“I want you to flex your fingers. Just keep flexing them.”

At first I can’t. I try and I try. But slowly, I start to feel them twitching, and after not too long I feel myself able to make a weak fist.

“Very good. You’re such a good girl.” Before I can say or even think anything, she reaches up, and removes first her cap, and then her hair tie. A shoulder-length crop of raven curls falls out. And then, to my amazement, she reaches up to her ear and removes the mask.

I see her face for the first time. I’m able to take in her sculpted jaw, her chin. She has a beauty spot on her right cheek. Her green eyes fill with warmth and, for the first time, I see her smile. “Let’s get that tube out.” She removes the tape on the tube. “Okay, I need you to take a deep breath. On three, I want you to exhale as hard as you can. One, two, three!” I blow and the tube slides out. I cough quite a bit.

Rather uncharacteristically, she tosses the tube aside. “You did so good today babe.” She comes in close, leaning over me, and our lips meet. Her kiss is so soft, so tender. I’m so lucky to have her. After what might be hours, or maybe no time at all, she pulls away.

Shakily, with a voice that hasn’t seen use in a long time, I say, “Thank you, Teacher.”

[bellatrixobsessed1]

I Am Blackened Bones (Last Part)

Her re-coronation ceremony comes with a festival. The first one that she had attended in ages. The servants had made good on their promise, she had been buried under so much silk and fabric that it was almost suffocating. Her head was heavy with golden combes and elaborate, dangly hair sticks. And then beneath a crown. But she had looked beautiful. Felt beautiful. But it wasn’t exactly practical attire for a festival and so she has dressed herself down. Something simpler, more comfortable and breathable but with a nice touch of elegance.

She isn’t sure that she wants to stand out, but she seems to do so all the same. Looks and murmurs aren’t lost on her, although she can never quite make any of them out. She thinks that that might before the best, despite Katara’s reassurance that they are just curious to see how she is doing and what she is like.

Azula tucks her hands into her sleeves and pauses to look around. Zuko and Mai have yet to arrive with TyLee and that adds a whole level of anxiousness to her already edgy mood.

“It’s weird being back at home, isn’t it?” Katara asks softly. She already knows the answer.

Weird, she supposes, is one way to describe it. “I don’t feel like I belong here anymore.” She has been gone for long enough to have forgotten the do’s and dont’s. Long enough to make a fool of herself, trying to fit back into the standards that she had once upheld.

She laughs too loud. Her posture never seems to be as poised as it had been. She she talks too much when she gets into a conversation Her clothes seem far too elegant for her even when she is dressed down. She says the wrong things and at the wrong times.

And Katara seems to find it terribly endearing. She finds it rgayer humiliating.

“Of course you belong here, you're their princess. And they seemed pretty happy to have you back during your re-coronation ceremony.”

“Right…” Azula mumbles.

“They’re probably just curious to see your firebending performance tonight.”

Azula isn't sure if she is ready to give them something else to talk about. Isn't sure if she is ready to show off her white fire, everyone had made such a big deal of her blue fire. But she does enjoy feeling the heat of her flames on her face, had always enjoyed the thrill of a display well planned. Which, evidently, is the other problem; she usually plans her choreography at least a few months in advance. She says as much to Katara.

Katara who gives her one of those soft smiles and laughs. “I thought that you said that you wanted to be more spontaneous and whimsical like the spirit. Well here's your chance! These shows are all about creativity anyways.”

Azula bites her lower lip. “Yes. I suppose.” But it still makes her stomach flutter. It is quite a risk to make her first festival fire dance an impromptu act.

.oOo.

Azula worries too much. Overtones things that need not be over thought. Her firebening is nothing short of mesmerizing. Mesmerizing and masterful.

Everything is an art from her breathing to her hand gestures to her firebening itself. She has adorned her hands with elegant armor. The sort that makes her hands look like long silver claws. It was certainly a unique choice to dress in silvers, blues, and whites instead of a Fire Nation red and gold. But it suits her well. And it suits her fire well.

Each and every gesture is deliberate and elegant. The twist of her wrist, the quick flick and pulling back of her arms, the roll of her hips. It takes katara a moment to realize that she is mimicking the swish and sway of the north sky curtains. That her arm gestures wave like those lights and her fire fur also and unfurls just as the colors had weaved in and out of one another.

Sparks look like crystals of snow. And smoke rolls across the stage like seafoam crowning a wave. And Aaula stands at the center of it all, hair fluttering, forks of lightning crackling around her. She is in her own snowy, stormy sea.

She looks upon the crowd, fierce and focused. Her fire reflects in her eyes, putting a confident twinkle in them that almost fools Katara. If she hadn't heard it from Azula’s own lips, she wouldn't think her nervous in the slightest.

Her fire snuffs out and her hair settles over her shoulders. She ends with a graceful bow and closes her eyes as the crowd claps for her.

“Well she certainly hasn't lost her touch.” Mai comments.

“It comes naturally to her.” Zuko replies.

But Katara has a feeling that she will still complain about how rusty her skills have gotten because of disuse. Katara can't tell the difference. If anything, she seems better connected to her fire than ever.

.oOo.

She is more nervous to see TyLee again than she had been to perform. Perhaps more nervous than she had been to speak with Mai. But it is one last thing. One last thing that makes her feel jittery.

TyLee looks perfectly content just talking with Katara, Zuko, and Mai. It gives her the impression that she is intruding on something when she walks up and greets them.

“That was an amazing show.” Katara says.

“Thank you.”

“Sparkler?” Zuko offers.

“Those are for children.” Azula replies.

“I’m pretty sure that the label says not to give those to kids.” Sokka points out.

Azula shrugs. “Father let me use them all the time when I was a child.”

“He also let you go to war when you were a child.” Sokka quirks a brow.

She snatches a box of poppers and tosses one at his big toe. He gives a satisfying “yowch!” She takes another and tosses it at the pavement, watching it give flash it’s split-second spark. “Zuzu and I used to throw these at each other all the time. And when father told us to stop we would throw them at him.”

TyLee giggles. “Oh yeah! That was so funny!”

Azula nods.

“You two were little menaces.” Aang says as Toph cackles, “no wonder Ozai was so angry all the time.”

“He didn’t need our help.” Zuko grumbles. “We threw those poppers at each other and we turned out fine.”

“Did we?” Azula quirks a brow. “You have anger issues and a need to people please and I have…whatever it is that causes a person to see things that aren’t there now and then.”

“You’re also a people pleaser.” Mai shrugs.

“Speaking of which…” She turns to TyLee. “It’s good to see you again, TyLee. Katara and I were going to go get some tea and kebabs. Do you want me to bring anything back for you?”

“I’d like to go with you guys. I can never decide which kind of kebab to get.”

“But the fireworks display is about to start.”

“As it does every hour.” Mai reminds her. “The main event isn’t until midnight so…”

“But we’ve never missed an hourly show.” Azula replies. “Except, of course, for the past few years when we didn’t attend the festival.”

“Well then I guess the three of you better hurry back.” Mai shrugs. “We’ll go set up the picnic blanket and what not.”

“Top of the hill, under the maple tree?” Zuko asks.

“Top of the hill, under the maple tree.”

And so they split off. She, Katara, and TyLee follow the scent of sizzling meat and chili pepper and the others follow the blinking of the fireflies towards the hill.

“How have you been, Azula. I heard that things have been really…strange for you.”

“Yes, a little bit.” She finds herself toying with the excess fabric of her kimono’s sleeve. “I…I got to see a few new places. The Spirit Oasis was nice—I was unconscious or freezing while I was there though so I didn’t get to take in the scenery all that well. But the Water Tribes have these lights that dance in the sky. Have you ever seen them? I think that you would like them!” Maybe she should give TyLee a turn to speak. But TyLee seems perfectly content to listen to her talk about the lights. “I based my performance off of that. Maybe we can all go one day. Me, you, and Mai. Like old times.” She would quite like that.

“That sounds nice, Azula. But I would like to…get used to talking to you again.”

It is TyLee’s kind way of saying that she needs to build trust again. And Azula can’t blame her. She feels somewhat the same. They have to get used to each other again. She has to get used to the Fire Nation again. She also has to get used to herself. She likes to think that she will keep good company on that journey.

“What about you, TyLee? What have you been up to these days?”

“Oh! All sorts of things! I was with the Kyoshi Warriors for a while, as you know, but then I saw this traveling circus and I just couldn’t resist. I kind of missed that, you know?”

Azula nods. “That suits you much better than being a Kyoshi Warrior…or someone who just follows me around. You’re a skilled combatant, but you aren’t a soldier.”

“None of us were.” Katara adds and Azula nods her agreement.

“I’m so much happier with that traveling circus. We go everywhere and see everything and they are such a fun bunch!” TyLee declares.

Truly it sounds like the perfect path for her. Azula hopes that she can find her own now that she has the time and mental fortitude to do so. “Have you ever played any Caldera City festival games, Katara?”

“I did once about a year after the war. Turns out that you need to be a firebender to win most of them.”

“Hmm. Yes. That’s right. Our games are fire based. However, I imagine that, now that we have more waterbenders and earthbenders who attend, we probably have more diverse gaming options.”

“Is that your way of asking if I can win you one of those?” She points at a fluffy pile of plush toys.

“It might be, yes.” She pauses. “It, of course, is also an opportunity to prove that I am better than you at a game of flaming hoops.”

“That’s a firebending game.”

“The hoops don’t necessarily have to be on fire.” TyLee smiles.

“But then it is not a game of flaming hoops. It is just regular hoops.” Azula frowns. She clears her throat, “not that I particularly care what kind of hoops they are, so long as I get a prize.”

“She cares a lot.” TyLee whispers. “It’s going to bother her all night if you play flaming hoops with hoops that aren’t flaming.”

Katara smirks. “Well I guess I know what I’m doing tonight.”

Does Azula win their game of hoops? Only three out of five times. It would seem that Katara is quite better at it than she had anticipated. Has she acquired one large komodo-rhino plushie, three smaller ones, and a sky bison plushie? Most certainly. She gives the sky bison to TyLee who snuggles the thing all the way back to their spot on the hill.

Did they forget the tea? Yes. Did they also forget the kebabs? Also yes. Are the others quite disappointed? Quite. Is that humorous? Indeed.

Sokka loses their game of drawing straws so he has to walk down the hill and fetch their tea and kebabs. At least he does not have to wait in line. At least there are going to be at least three more shows before the main event.

Azula leans herself against Katara. Lets the waterbender wrap her arms around her the way that she had back when she was just some confused and curious fire spirit. It is comfortable. A nice welcome home. A promising welcome.

There is noise all around; booms, crackles and pops. Sizzles, drum beats, and laughter. Chatter, chimes, whistles, and smokey hisses.

Azula had missed home so terribly and it doesn’t truly hit until now. She is thankful for that. Thankful, also, for the realization that her yearning for home means that she still belongs here. That her flame is still strong. She isn’t entirely certain of where she will go from here, but wherever she goes, she will travel whole and hopeful. Authentic and cherished.

She looks at Katara. The fireworks twinkle in those pretty blue eyes, bathe her soft skin in flashes of pink, green, and gold. It is not unlike the sky curtains. Azula turns her own gaze back to the fireworks.

She stares up at them with Katara’s hand in one of her hands and several komodo-rhino plushies in the other.

She used to know all about komodo-rhinos. She still knows all about komodo-rhinos.

20 to 55 inches. 4 tons. Black or white komodo rhino. 59 inches. 7 tons. White or black komodo rhino. 39 inches. 7 tons. Greater one horned komodo rhino. 60 inches. 10,000 pounds. Caldera ash komodo rhino.

[electricbluebutterflies]

Bertha x George ~ Trying new stuff

Vaguely NSFW and also on ao3.

Bertha is in her own personal hell.

The move was supposed to fix things. It hasn’t. Not for her. Not like-

It had been necessary for her husband’s career, she reminds herself, and she is a good supportive wife, and in time New York will become a good challenge for her, but for now…

She should be making a good impression in this room full of people who do not know her. Instead her eyes dart for any reason to slip away.

She has already figured out the social tiers here, and she’ll still have to claw her way into this one before she can start climbing, these insipid women who aren’t smart enough to try to conceal where they started. She already knows where to go vague and how to deflect, to pretend she didn’t exist at all before the move, like Aphrodite rising out of seafoam, like-

There are some things about the evening that keep it from being a total loss, Bertha thinks. Like how good she looks in this dress, a darker red than she’d usually choose but it does look magnificent on her, and how she knows her husband is having a better time than she is – oblivion does have its perks – but he still can’t look away from her for too long, and-

She watches him move towards her, as if sensing her frustration. Always so aware of her, this love of hers, and-

An idea forms in the back of her mind, one of those near-terrible ideas she’d usually reject as indecent, but she’s in just enough of a mood not to care.

“Want to explore with me?”

He’d follow her anywhere, she knows that. They are equally strong, yes, but she is not above using his adoration of her to get what she wants, and-

At the very least, a little adventure will let her redirect her frustrations. The décor choices of the nouveau riche certainly are something, and when she has a bigger house to decorate – when, she thinks, when she has everything she wants – she is going to do differently, she has so many plans, she has-

It does take a few doors she probably shouldn’t open to find a sufficiently out-of-the-way room, and as soon as the door is shut behind them she twirls around and pins her husband to it with a nearly indecent kiss.

“Here?”

She rolls her eyes, aware what a sight she is even in dim light. “Yes.”

They are still young, she reminds herself. They are still young, and visibly in love enough that she’s already had to explain to too many people that they have been married for some time, and if she wants to take kisses, if she wants-

She doesn’t just want that, she decides. That may have been the plan when slipping away for a while seemed like the best idea she’d ever had, but it’s not enough now, not with desire warming her body and she is too impatient to wait a few hours until they are home and-

“You want what you want.”

“You’re not stopping me.”

She likes the way he looks at her, like he’s not sure what she’s about to do at any given moment but that uncertainty is part of the charm of her, all-in for whatever she does next and-

She breaks away for a moment and scans the room, trying to figure out the best way to get what she wants. Her layers are going to be a problem and anything that would have her on her back would also have her rolling around like a badly handled tortoise, and-

“If I were to bend over that table, do you think…”

“Would you be comfortable?”

“It would balance out.”

Normally there would be more maneuvering of clothes, but the questionable circumstances will not allow that. A closed door only buys so much time, even as unlikely as it is that anyone else might have the same idea, and it will be enough to get her skirts up and-

Her husband does so, with a little guidance, and the only downside of a position she normally doesn’t suggest is she doesn’t get to see his reactions. There is only the movement of his hands guiding hers to hold the problematic fabric out of the way and then exploring her sensitive parts, exposing her pearl and checking how wet her slit is and-

“You want this.” Not quite a question, but-

“Completely, darling.”

The specific situation dictates how they move together. A different pace than might otherwise be comfortable, and a different sensation with it, and something about the specific angle hits right, and she would say she is never letting him have her while she’s still in her corset again, but-

“Harder,” she breathes. “I need-“

He is only rough with her when she asks, she reminds herself, and even now he has a hand under her mound for her comfort. She is careful to keep quiet, but it takes effort; if they were to do something like this at home, where she could howl properly, she would, and-

The realization that she has found several new things she likes is what pushes her over the edge, and she bites her lip hard enough to bleed. She feels him fall apart after her, and he lingers against her longer than she would expect, perhaps overwhelmed by it all, perhaps-

“So this is something we do now,” he murmurs as their bodies separate.

“I think it will be. I could be a much more tolerable person on these awful evenings if I have something to look forward to.”

“Last I recall, it was your idea to-“

“Necessary evil. Doesn’t mean I enjoy it.”

She will, she hopes, be more patient in whatever petty conversations lie between her and actually leaving. At the very least, she does have something more pleasant to think about, and-

She twirls around and takes another kiss, playful as ever. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“Getting to have you? Never.”

[thewildsorcerer]

Chili - Do you like spicy foods?

Wine - What is your opinion on alcohol? (and does it exist in your world?)

Pumpkin - What is your favorite part of Autumn? (If that exists in your world)

Butterscotch - Is there candy in the world you live in? If so, do you have a favorite one?

Daffodil - Do you like trying new things? What is something new you’d like to try?

Juniper - What is the nature like in your setting?

Pine- If camping exists in your wold, have you gone camping? did you like it? do you go often?

Seafoam - Are there bodies of water in your setting? Describe them if you can

Blue - Are you a creative person? How do you like to be creative?

Denim - What is your fashion style? cc

Ultramarine - What is your favorite aquatic creature? (if they exist)

Aegean - Would you consider yourself a wise person? who do you look to for wisdom?

Lavender - what is a smell you really like?

Eggplant - What’s the weirdest thing you’ve eaten?

Amethyst- What is your aesthetic?

White - Do you consider yourself a good person? What’s the best thing you’ve ever done for somebody?

Ivory - Do you play any musical instruments? If so, which ones and how well?

Chiffon - Do you prefer a larger and cleaner environment, or a smaller and cozier one?

Alabaster - What is the most recognizable thing about you? What are people most likely to notice about you when they first meet you?

Hazel - What kind of folklore/myths/stories are told in your family/community?

Iron - Have you ever used a weapon? Do you own one? If so what is it?

color questions

” wow that’s— thats a lot of questions.. you really want to know that much about me? sure, then i guess i can answer your questions

i mean, i don't hate spicy food, and i can handle my spice pretty well. like if you give me it, ill eat it but im probably not gonna order it at taverns and places like that.. do you guys even have taverns here? or.. is it restaurants.. ah..

now alcohol i can get behind, i always get something if theres a bar nearby-- flirt with a bartender, charm them if i have to, and get some free drinks. i like anything you put in front of me but sometimes i stray for something fruity. its nice to have something sweet in my drink

i don't know if i have a favorite part of autumn, but i guess i do like it when i can just explore the pretty forest when we're docked somewhere.

yes there is candy, but i don't have a favorite one. i never really had much candy growing up and don't usually buy it. but i heard there's a guy here who gets to leave for a moment, maybe he could get me some candy??

i mean, i literally (unwillingly) left royal life and became a pirate-- so i would say that i'm open to trying new things. something new i'd like to try? uh.. you know maybe going on a car ride with someone, them driving of course.. it seems fun.

oh the nature is gorgeous in my world, especially in the fae realm-- but i don't really go there. but there are just some places that i could just stay for hours.

camping does exist, but i don't usually do it. we usually sleep on the ship or in an inn.. so i really don't know if i would like it or not

there.. there are definitely bodies of water where i'm from. i've.. spent time down there before. its gorgeous, and much similar to what i've seen is here too. but it feels much more.. magical.

i like to think i'm a creative person. i sketch from time to time, and i love to write things down but other than that.. but writing is something i really liked to do

my fashion style. hmm.. i guess i would have to say i usually dress like a pirate, since i am one? my old style was a red tank top and dark blue pants with two belts. i also wore a long brown coat and my brown finger less gloves. but now i've been wearing dark green swim trunks and this mesh see-through top.

i love all of the aquatic animals, i don't think i could choose. except dolphins, because fuck dolphins.

uh.. i mean i'm fairly wise? nothing too special but growing up i spent a lot of time with books, so between me and my brother i would say i'm book smart and wise. but he's smart as well. though.. though i can be pretty fucking stupid sometimes.

the smell of dashie's cooking definitely. shes the cook on our ship and holy crap guys i wish you could taste her cooking. she tells you stories if you hang out while shes cooking.. and honestly we don't know if they're true or not. but i believe they are

oh god.. i've eaten a lot of foods, and most of them from dashie as i said before. but id have to say it was at this one tavern and it was called owl bear steak-- which had mushroom sauce and a steamed beak. it was.. interesting to say the least

my aesthetic? well, besides all the pirate stuff i guess you could say my aesthetic is brooding magical guy. oh you should've seen me the first month my brother went missing. it was that but intesified

..i dont know. i dont really like this question. ive murdered others and ive stolen before, but does that really make me bad? with the life ive lived and how my world operates does that truly make me a bad person? but i give my brother the life he wants, even if it wasn't my first choice. but i wouldnt tell him that, and i think that makes it a good thing because then he won't feel guilty.

i do not know or play any instruments

smaller and cozier. i share the captains quarters with my brother, and its decent sized but its cozy and i like it.

hmm.. well if we were talking about my usual form then i would have to say probably my hair or my eyes. but with this form.. oh. i would probably also have to say my hair-- people seem to really like it.

is it bad to say that i dont actually know any myths or folklore about my hometown? i was book smart yes but.. i actually didn't pay much attention in class.. i didnt really care. so im sorry to say i cant answer this one

i do have a weapon. i could never learn the sword as much as Varian tried to help. i usually rely on my magic when i fight but i also do have a crossbow. i wish i had one here but it seems that id have to be a .. militant to hold a weapon. and you guys dont even have crossbows, which is a bummer

i hope i answered your questions to your satisfaction i.. its weird talking so much about my life to strangers "

[kingsdodecahedron]

knights from seven deadly sins: four knights of the apocalypse rated on how much I like their design

I don’t remeber how many images I can put in one post so maybe part 1/whatever

8/10- big fan of his colors and giant forehead. not sure about the weirdly shaped coattails coming from his torso plating but like kind of cute

9/10- big fan (he’s also funny from what I’ve seen so bonus points)

10/10- for whatever reason I’m enamored with his design, especially the head. cant tell if the armor is practical but like whatever. Go girl

0/10- this is the ugliest fucking thing I have ever seen. Unpleasant, nonsensical, and contains the cardinal sin of giving women stupid armor

6/10- yes this is the only picture I found. I didn’t see if there were more but I like the helmet

7/10- helmet goes crazy but the “x”s and weird boot things don’t make sense

10/10- ultra cutie. one million bonus points for the dress but -10 bonus points for the weird chestplate

9/10- hell yeahhhh. don’t like the weird folds at the end of his torso plating tho

9/10- best freak ever but again with the stupid metal coattails. Stop that. Also what the hell are those shoes

9/10- love it despite the ugly face on the top of the head. needs less segments like almost every other design

10/10- make those big ears a weird hood/cloth thing instead and I would be happy. I appreciate the weirdness

???\10- what the hell is going on here

2/10- barely a knight. Also I don’t like that fabric

8/10- ignoring the weird color scheme I like her

8/10- enamored by the buginess of it

200/10?- for some reason I am drawn to him. Is he perfect?

3/10- get those celery sticks away from me

7/10- like the mouth helmet but he cannot see. the chest face doesn’t look very good

8/10- I like the puzzle bits

8/10- the clown face on the chestplate sucks AND WHAT I DIDNT REALIZE HE HAD CLOWS ON HIS KNEEES . CURRENT MOMENT RELIZATION

7/10- unsure what to think. Why is the helmet just one long bulb

9/10- yeah this rocks. again with the metal coattails

-4/10- get away from me

8.5/10- loved it until I saw the stuff around the helmet. I like the arrow head looking things but what in the world is that bulb on top. Not to mention the things behind their head

9/10- I am captivated by the seafoam green

[thefanbasewhore]

His

Prompt no. 31 from @sweeterthanthis's "Quote me on it" 6k writing challenge! - Suck me, beautiful. - Also sorry for all the repost! - tags problem

Summary || Bucky doesn't like when his things gets touched.

Paring || Biker! Bucky Barnes x female reader

Word count || 4,015

Warning || (18+, content) , degradation, slight dub-con (but not really, reader is willing), p in v, oral receiving , jealous!Bucky, - you have been warned.

Side note || shout out to my bestie @fuckandfluff for beta reading this for me <3

It is hard to miss his eyes, the way they darken just enough to show interest. Dark and shallow like the depths of the deepest canyon – shallow with no sign of life. Sparking in this little game of predator and prey but no one dares to make a move.

Tugging his lip between teeth the moment he catches your glance, smirking as flirty eyes run up and down your body but then back to his friend. His gaze is hot - pure lava that burns the skin, but it feels so, so good.

To have the attention of James Barnes, a man your mother would never approve of and other men cower to. He is beautiful, seafoam blue eyes that accompany strong features, and soft, pink lips to top it off.

You smile shyly, cheeks darkening under the gaze as top off the few coffees on at the bar. Bucky watches at the corner of his peripheral, casually conversing but cannot help but notice the way the man comes behind you, pressing a hand to the small of your back as he joins into the conversation.

Bucky leans forward, listening intensely as the hand slips lower and lower until it cups the curve of your ass. Bucky stands so fast with blurred vision, with one goal in mind; protect his girl’s honor but he watches the way your lips twitch into a polite smile as you throw your head back to laugh, quickly excusing yourself but not before catching the intense, darkening gaze of Bucky.

Two rather large hands grasp your arm, pulling you into the side pantry, located right before the kitchen doors with force.

"Wh-." You don't even get the chance to speak before being pressed against the wall - a heavy weight, chest crushing against your back. Soft, heavy breaths as a hand anchors your hip, pressing you harshly into the metal preparation table. A hand flat against your shoulder and lowers you down until your stomach touches the table, bending you to his will.

"You wanted this, didn't you, pretty girl?" He coos as the curve of his nose runs through your hair, taking a lungful of scent, floral mixed with strawberry shampoo and a hint of grease. You let out an exaggerated squeal as he pushes his hips deeper against your ass to feel the heavy thickness of his aching cock. "Oh, you did."

Calloused but gentle hands grasp your shoulders, running up and down the length of back as he presses a few meaningful kisses to your spine. "Want me to fuck you right here? Mmmm, you dirty girl."

"James, we can’t do this -."

"I'll do whatever I want." He hisses against your skin, "When I want to and there's nothing you can do about it."

Warm, smooth lips press into your shoulder following with a thick line of spit from his hot tongue and nipping teeth.

Nimble fingers dig into the skin of your shoulder, turning you around to face him with a deep scowl. A gentle hand cups your face - angling your eyes to meet his face, fingers soaking the skin of your hairline. He does not move, not breath fanning your face as he just stares.

So beautiful like this, flushed and hair messily forming knots from his hands and a few loose pieces stick to your wet skin. A cool hand against your neck releases a gasp from your lips but he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, nibbling on your bottom lip and molding his body into your own.

It is feverish, the way your hands raise to spread into his hair, feeling his breath hitch. A rough hand pulls at the blouse of your dress, exposing the heavy breast. Bucky presses his lips into your own watching as your eyelashes flutter close and inhale deeply.

"Sweet girl, tell me -." He rubs his harness roughly against you, nipping at the skin of your neck. "Did you like his hands on you?"

A whine gets stuck in your throat as harsh teeth nip at your lip with a growl and in response lean forward to connect the invisible line, but he stops you with the press of his fingers, but you continue to reach forward to split his lips open and slide your tongue in. Eyes tightening with envy, lips long and thinning as a result but it does not stop him from returning it, sliding his tongue against your own with ferocity.

Bucky huffs - hands falling to cup your ass, massaging the fat between his hand with a squeeze. "You're making it hard to stay mad at you."

Buck’s eyes flutter, eyelashes soothing the skin of your breast with a huff. He says for a second, evaluating the situation: his hardness throbbing, pressed between your creamy thighs.

“Buck..” The whine of his name wanting and feral shoots straight to his aching cock.

Fingers cup your chin and grip to watch lip’s part with want, while two metal fingers touch your tongue, sliding along the ridges of it until they reach the back of your throat, gagging around them but Bucky doesn't pull away instead holds them there, a cocky smirk pressing against your cheek with harsh kisses. "You don't get a say, keep your mouth shut, do you understand?"

"Yes, I'm sorr -."

"What are you sorry for? Tell me, sweet girl."

You try to speak but Bucky does not give you the chance, "Say sorry for being a little whore."

"Buck!" Two thick, cold fingers run along the underside of your breast, slow and antagonizing as they trail across the skin of your stomach to the hem of your panties teasingly.

The other hand - still wrapped around your hair pulls tightly, "I told you to say sorry."

"I'm sorry!" You whine and peer up into his eyes with a quivering bottom lip, only to be met with the intense dark gaze.

"For what?"

"Being a little whore." You whine pathetically, "I'm sorry!"

Two large fingers spread over your clothed pussy with a loud whine, pushing your hips into the working digits. "Please, please."

To your surprise Bucky moves closer, sinking to his knees with a few seconds of silence to commit the sight to his memory. Hips lift from the cool table as Bucky clicks his tongue under his breath, lips move agonizingly slow, hands cupping both of her breasts through the fabric of your bra feeling nipples react instantly, hard through the thin material of the shirt.

“I-I..” Tears of frustration, wet eyes, wanting to cry and beg but it would be no use. Not with those cold, daring eyes.

Bucky can't help but stare, the light-colored fabric left little to the imagination, dark hairs shape against it, the wet patching showing just how badly you want him.

With your eyes closed, it is practically sensory overload. Skin on fire, small bee stings follow the warmness of his touch. Ears twitch with heat, breath against the skin of your thighs as lips touch the inner skin. Buck makes sure to take his time, spreading the wetness around the bare mound with his thumb, throat dry and his mouth parting with want.

Eyelashes flutter with a moan, skin flushing pink with chest heaving with deep breaths, grinding your own desperate hips against his hand.

His hand leaves you completely with a loud protest, but it is cut short with a hand against your hip to flip you around onto your stomach, face pressing against the cool metal as the same hand digs into your right hip, dragging them high into the air.

His length is heavy, straining against the back of your thigh. Pressing a kiss to your lower back up to the bare skin of shoulder blades. The swirling and clanking of vibranium plates as a barbarous hand kisses the flesh of your ass, harsh and brutal with every clench of his jaw.

A gentle palm smooths the burning, reddening skin. His other thumb spreading across your clit, whining with the contact. His finger’s hook inside with no warning, filling you to the brink

The two fingers scissor against your walls, coat with her arousal that helps him trust them back into you again until they hit that spongy part that makes you squeal. The instant the sound leaves your lips, your hand cups your mouth to conceal the noise but he only slaps it away with threatening eyes, "I want to hear every single sound, understand?"

You squeeze around him, hips naturally fighting his own trust of his fingers. "You look so fucking good, moaning my name so everyone can hear you."

He groans at the tightness and it instantly sends shivers down his skin, electric shocks down his spine to his dripping cock, pre-cum smearing against the confides of his boxers, a wet patch seeping through the dark, jean material.

Fingers never lead up, filling and entering as soon as they left, over and over again until you feel a sudden snap, a wave of heat that curls inside your stomach, mouth ajar as Bucky quickens the pace, pressing soft kisses to your underthighs, watching his fingers move in and out. Lips sucking softly on the skin, huffing in frustration at his own arousal throbs to replace his fingers, watching as you drip into his fingers down his hand and your thighs.

“Buck!” it’s a warning to make him suck harder; fingers so good it makes you mewl.

“Cum pretty girl, give it to me.”

All it takes is seven words and his finger to milk you through your orgasm. Legs begin to tremble, his heart thumping inside his chest as your walls squeeze his fingers with a cry. "That's it, good girl."

Your chest falls and raises quickly against the table, but Bucky’s fingers do not leave the heat between your thighs. Blind fingers reach behind to palm his hardness, it's so gentle and it’s an experimental touch that makes him groan and heart flutter but he chooses to ignore it and grunt loudly.

He uses this time to look at you, completely soaked, begging for more as your thighs squeeze together.

"Greedy Girl, stop that."

Hands spread across the back of bare thighs, trailing to squeeze a large handful of your cheek. "You look so good like this."

His arms flexes and expands against your thighs again as fingers curl into the softness of them, anchoring himself as lips closing around your clit, suckling softly.

“Buck - wait!” it is a whine of surprise as his tongue flickers against the sensitive bundle and sinks into the gaping hole. His finger’s moving faster, pace increasing with every squeal, scream or sound that’s made.

His tongue does not let up from your clit as his fingers pushed deeper inside, purposely messaging the spot found in the deepest of your pussy, his cock throbbing at the thought of feeling it.

Hips lifting off the table trying to escape his brutal lips, but he does not allow it as his free hand fell to hips, roughly pushing you back down against the cool surface. “Stay.” The vibrations make you cry, begging for more.

Fingers curling in you to collect any juice they possibly could spreading against you as much as he could manage through the way your hips jolt, a soft mumble makes you moan.

The familiar feeling of heat building up and bubbling in your lower abdomen spreading warmth throughout your whole body as he continued to finger fuck you as fast he could. The heavenly sound of wetness dripping to his hand, covering his face and onto the table. “Give it to daddy, princess, I want more."

“I’m -.“ His name is like a prayer on your lips and his only reply is slamming his finger back into as hard as he could, lips puckering against your clit one more time. Eyes rolling back into your head as the delicious swirl of heat ignites deep inside your stomach and he sucks up everything he could manage.

The instant your body slumps, Bucky's fingers grab at your hips and presses a kiss against your lower back as you hear the jingle of his belt, pulling it from the loops before carelessly throwing it across the room.

His sweetness is short-lived as a hand cups your jaw, his chest pressing against your back with a whisper. "On your knees."

The shuffle from the table to the floor is easy, positioning yourself right in front of his crotch, he is hard, head poking through the top of his boxers easily visible from his unbuttoned pants.

"Suck me, beautiful..." Bucky peers down at you, using his digit to run along the line of you jaw - thumb pinching at the pit of your chin. "Open those pretty lips for me."

Despite the burning of your knees in contrast of the hard, tile floor you oblige, mouth parting as the skin of his appendage dips to your tongue, pressing hard on it. His other hand reaches down to pull his pants, along with the black briefs down his legs just enough to release him.

He groans as his eyes never leave your face - over the soft curve of your nose watching as your lips wrap tightly around it and suck.

"You are so sexy.." beautiful, round, doe eyes peer up at him as he wraps his free hand around his cock, tutting his hips into the tightness of his clasped hand.

He tucks his bottom lip between his teeth, pressing the Bulbous head onto your lips. Lips parting to your mouth and stick your tongue out. "Such a good girl. You like sucking cock huh?"

"Yes." Lips closing around the head, sucking slightly but only for a fist to pull at your hair.

"Did I tell you to suck yet?" He snarls, eyes darkening, "Are you that much of a little slut? Or pretending it's his."

The last word he hisses, curling his fingers for he gains the upper hand and feels the knots of your hair fill the gaps between fingers. "I asked you a question, sweets."

"No." The pull that burns your scalp makes you moan in pain, the reply muffled by the heaviness of his cock still lying between open lips. "Not for him, for you."

"Really? Is that why you were letting him touch you, mm?"

"I didn't know - I thought you didn't want to -."

"Didn't want you? While else would I waste my time, mm?" He kisses his teeth with words laced with venom, "Are you that much of a dumb whore to realize?"

He doesn't give you the chance to answer, “Let me tell you what's going to happen, I'm going to fuck you and you're gon’a walk right up to him with my cum running down your thighs and tell him to fuck off, you're not interested, understand beautiful?"

"Yes." With a wanton cry as a wave of heat runs through your body, a soft hand reaching down to cup the softness of your breast. In response clench your tights to create some kind of friction between your throbbing cunt.

"What a dirty girl..." He loves to see the sight, the mess he makes of your big, innocent eyes on the floor of this dirty diner, ready to be fucked like a whore. "Suck it, gorgeous."

The angry bulbous head kisses your lips as a gentle thumb roams over your hairline, "Don't be shy now."

Lips part as Bucky's smell takes over your senses - the smell of soap and chapped, warmed leather as he hits the back of your throat, nose brushing against the dark ringlets of hair. He moans softly biting down on his lower lip as a he pinches the skin of your jaw to lift you head up, "Eyes on me."

Bucky gives a small thrust, just enough to make your eyes water and to fit the rest of his hard-on into your mouth. His fingers clutch the corner of the metal table as a small groan falls from his lips watching as you bring a hand up to cup his balls, not daring to take your eyes away.

"Trying to make up for being a bad girl, huh?" he taunts with a small gasp, but you ignore his teasing and bob your head up and down with precise, slow movements.

He's growing frustrated, face flushing a deep pink color, chewing on his bottom lip but it only gets interrupted by the loud moan every time you bob your head. His fingers burn the base of your skull, throat closing around his cock as you're forced to breath out your nose, but that's even hard as wet tears stain your face and gather above your cupid's bow.

"Enough.." The words are spoken through gritted teeth as if it hurt to mutter, but you don't even get time to think about it before a hand wraps around your arm, lifting you up and muttering, "On the table, hands and knees."

Bucky groans at the sight of you, skirt pulled up to your waist, pussy high with hips in the air for him. A rough hand kneads over the flesh of your ass check, the other one comes up to spank you so hard you cry as tingles of pain mix with pleasure to send goose bumps up your back. Lips coming down to pressing a small kiss against the harsh mark as it welts with pulsing pain, "You look so pretty marked by me, gorgeous girl."

A large hand guides down your back feeling the grooves of your spine against his own fingertips until his hand reached the back of your neck and with one hard grab forces your cheek against the table. Both hands start to knead at your cheeks, brushing over your soaked entrance, a lingering heat trails where his fingers touch, across the back of your thighs, your ass. Whining softly as he speaks, "Something tells me you don't want me here, you would rather it be him."

The click of his tongue tells you he’s disappointed, panic tearing through your throat as his finger moved further from where you need him most, tears of frustration prickling eyes as his hand pushes your head deeper into the table. “No! No – please touch me. I want it, need you so bad.“ With one last crack of your voice words spewing at any effort of some type of relief. "Do whatever you want to me, I'm yours, I'm yours."

The way he tenses and throbs between your ass cheeks is delicious. Not only does he affect you but judging by the way his chest does not dare move, drawing a huff of air at the words. Suddenly there is something soft against your back, a few gentle kisses that make your heart flutter.

Before you know it, Bucky pushes you up the table to make enough room to get onto it himself, kneeling between your thighs. His left leg against your inner knee, spreading you just enough so he can fit. Arching your back against him earns a loud warning - a rumble from his chest. "You take what I give you, understand?"

"Yes, I'm sorry."

He doesn’t give any warning, the act draws your breath away at the sudden feeling of a burning but pleasurable stretching causing a small gasp to fall from your swollen lips. With one callous thrust he splits you open, nudging that spot that makes jump forward but his hand cupping over your deltoid keep you grounded.

Bucky’s finger come behind to tease the bundle of nerves, making your whine as he sinks every inch of his cock until he is nestled so deep it’s hard to breath, it burns so deliciously. Mouth falling agape, cannot even manage to form words so he speaks instead, "So good, baby."

Buck’s hands rest against the swells of your ass, eyes tilting towards the filthy sight of him snuggly pressing into you, testing the waters with one deep, slow thrust. The sound you make is straight up sinful, makes him groan on his own accord as you clench around him.

Hips snap faster watching his cock disappear and reappear into your silky opening over and over again a wave of pleasure tingling his spine every time he hits the spot that makes you dumb. He wants to comment on it but the feelings of you squeezing him with every inch it's impossible to form words, especially the sight of his cock covered in your arousal. His thighs shake until they are numb, his stomach swirling with the familiar feeling building deep inside, body on fire. With every push of his hips, strokes are strong and harsh but hit that spot every. single. time.

The sounds falling from your lips don't help, mixed between pleasure and pain. He loves every second of it, rolling his lips as your pussy drips, smearing his thighs, droplets leaking down your own. His eyes never leave your ass - bouncing against this hips with squeals of his name.

"Shit, gorgeous." It is so sexy, so effortless the way you take him. Back arching pushing him deeper inside of you to hit that spot that makes you cry as a hand rest against the small of back giving him a better angle to fuck you senseless. “Bucky, holy fuck, so goood --."

Small crescents from his nails digging into the flesh of your hip as sweat beads across his forehead and chest, a wave of heat rushing over his body as he grows closer and closer. His thrust growing disorganized and haphazard forming a new pattern that makes your toes girl and he can barely get the words out as his head clouds, "Tell me you want it."

"I want it so bad, Bucky, please, please. Fill me up." It is so sudden, your orgasm hits you blindly with white, searing pleasure that makes small black orbs form in your vision. Bucky chokes at how hard you clench around him but continues to drive his cock deep inside you, milking you for all you have.

With the last of his trust he explodes, his cum lines your walls, filling you to the brink and stuffing you full. There's so much of it, it drips onto the table leaking between the both of you, but he doesn't dare move only peers down at you with those pretty blue eyes.

Sagging into the table and completely spent as a soft hand rubs your hair, fingers lovingly running across your hairline. He presses a kiss to your forehead, one against your cheek before cupping where his lips touched, angling your face to his own to press a soft kiss against your lips. With one last kiss to your nose, he helps put your arms back through the sleeves of your stress, sighing softly against your skin, "You okay?"

"Mmm." You agree, eyes shutting gently but only lean forward to press a kiss to his lips. "I'm yours, Buck."

"Yes, you are, honey." He promises and slides out of you with a hiss but that does not stop his eyes from dipping between your legs, smirking as you instinctually spread them, revealing the beautiful sight of him leaking from you. Two large fingers roam over the hood of your pussy, rubbing the folds before they split you open again. The sound that follows is filthy and he hums in response.

Those same fingers now prod against your lips, parting them open until the salty, blank taste invades your mouth.

"I want you stuffed in every hole, I want you smelling like me before you tell that asshole." You watch wide eyed and blank as he pulls up his pants and tucks himself back in. Pressing one more kiss to your lips before picking the panties off the ground shoving them into his pocket.

"Baby, I need those -."

"You didn't think I was serious huh?" Bucky chuckles darkly, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. "Oh, you're gonna tell him and everyone in this diner is going to know you're mine."

tags: @kpopgirlbtssvt, @slytherdorxmd, @sugarpunch-princess, @old-enough-to-know-better73, @maxsaturdayhatesnarwhals, @Fajitasandfics, @devilswaldorf, @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123, @grubler, @SodDy030, @agent-catfish-kenobi,@scarletglowss, @abitchforbarnes, @xxlovingfandomsxx, @jewishdelis, @klorpski, @kaitieskidmore1, @peterpstuff, @akaaaaashiiii, @angelsandsorcery, @moony-is-bae, @yliumy, @watermelonsponge, @stolenxkissess, @peakascum, @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme, @crvecem, @likealadygodiva, @harrysthiccthighss, @burnerbitchh, @sergeantjamesbbarnes, @amelia-song-pond, , @Jallen0126

[scarletaire]

homeland (Chapter 6)

A/N: Here we are at the end! And Cardan isn't quite done surprising Jude just yet.

Fandom: The Folk of the Air

Genre/s: Contains Fluff, Slight Hurt/Comfort, Slight Angst, Smut

Rating: E

Tags: Post-QON, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Protective!Cardan, Bewildered!Jude, Jude and Cardan discuss the Undersea, but they get a little Distracted

Description: 

Cardan’s eyes flash open.

“Why?” he repeats, and Jude feels the power shift between them. “Don’t you remember, wife?” he croons. “It was the Undersea who stole you away from me.”

And Jude has only enough time to think, danger, before he lunges at her.

or:

Cardan and Jude work on removing their armor. Taking off this particularly stubborn piece happens in varying states of undress.

Links: Masterlist | AO3

“This is a stupid idea.”

“Have you known me to have any other kind?”

He has her there. Jude tugs at the blindfold around her eyes. “Where are we even going?”

“To the beginning and the end of all this.”

“What does that –” Her voice cuts off as the boat rocks precariously beneath her. “I really don’t like the sound of that.”

“You like very little, Jude, and that is a problem of yours.”

I was stupid enough to like you, she almost says. Instead she asks, “Why did we have to take a boat? More importantly, why are you the one rowing? You’re the king.” The boat rocks again, and Jude finds herself thinking longingly for a ragwort steed. Steady, secure, reliable — or, well, as reliable as Vivi’s magic allowed them to be.

“Crossing the water myself proves a fine reminder of my position to those who yearn otherwise.”

“A power play? That’s what you woke me up so early for? Cardan, there are a thousand more things that need my attention back at the brugh.”

It was still light out when she’d felt lips behind her ear, nuzzling her awake. They had probably been asleep for a mere few hours at most. She’d woken up slowly and sweetly, like dragging a spoon through thick syrup, with Cardan curled around her — arms, legs, and tail — and his mouth soft on her neck. It was such a stark contrast to how she’d woken up the previous night that Jude melted right back into his embrace, her body heavy and worn out in the best way possible.

But then he was pulling away, coaxing her to get dressed, murmuring into her skin that he had something to show her.

Promising that she would like it.

The fae cannot lie, but that last part has yet to come true.

“I’m taking this blindfold off.”

“Jude –”

She can hear the petulance in his voice and that just makes her rip the stupid thing off even faster.

It turns out that “crossing the water himself” doesn’t much include actual rowing on his part. Instead, iridescent, aquamarine scales flash across the surface of the water underneath them, their movement rippling and propelling the boat forward.

Merfolk.

Pulling their vessel on his whim.

A power play, indeed.

Jude raises an eyebrow at him, impressed despite it all. He continues to pout at her and the blindfold in her hand.

Then, something catches in her mind.

“Salt and seafoam…”

“Hm?”

“Your nightmare.” She’s staring at him now, understanding how it fits together but not quite believing it. “You said that when you dove into the sea and couldn’t find me anywhere, it was because there was nothing left of me but ‘salt and seafoam.’”

“Yes.” The word is like water on burning coals.

“You –” The sentence is inconceivable even when she tries to form it in her mouth. “Have you… have you been reading fairytales? Human fairytales?”

He scoffs. “Nothing Faerie about them.”

A yes, then.

“So –” She’s known about him reading Alice in Wonderland and even wondered at the way he had kept the mortal book in his rooms. It boggles her mind like this next thought does. “So…” How does she say this? She has no clever ruse with which to coat her words, and so she gives up and goes for direct. “The Little Mermaid. That’s what caused your nightmare?”

He cuts her a look, like she’s being stupid. “No, Jude, your kidnapping and prolonged torture at the hands of my brother and the Undersea while I waited powerless and unable to help you was the cause of my nightmare. And many more of its kind before it.”

She doesn’t much like how he speaks to her like he’s explaining something to a child, but she holds her sharp tongue and wields her silence against him.

“But fine.” He doesn’t meet her eyes. “Yes. The mortal tale about the moronic mermaid and her wayward prince may have… exacerbated any woes I may have already been carrying. Don’t know why I bothered,” he grumbles under his breath. “I hate stories.”

“No,” she says, thinking of the way he fancies himself a villain even though he hasn’t truly been one in a long time, “you don’t.”

He looks pointedly over her shoulder. “We’re here.”

And Jude turns her head to see where it is that he has brought her this morning.

She has to shield her eyes a little from the amount of sunlight that refracts off the massive stretch of sparkling sand in front of her.

No, not sand. Ash.

She knows where they are.

Insear.

The beginning and the end of all this, he said.

When they disembark, Cardan holds out his hand to guide her from the boat.

She doesn’t need his help.

She takes his hand anyway.

There is still something of last night humming underneath their skin, and so if they lean into each other’s warmth and stumble across the shimmering shores of the Isle of Ash, a little lovedrunk while they walk — well. There is nary a soul to see.

It’s somehow even more beautiful in the daylight. And with Cardan here, the island seems to unfurl even further, coming alive just a little bit more the moment he steps onto the soil. The air turns sweeter the farther inland they go, the blues and ivories and blacks of the native flowers populating everywhere they turn. When Jude looks back at their footfalls upon the ash, she sees little sprigs of myrtle springing up from the indents they leave behind.

“There’s something I want to check on,” she says when they reach the thicker parts of the forest. “I’ll come find you again.”

“As you like.” Cardan’s gaze is caught on something up ahead. “Dally not, wife.”

When Jude returns to the clearing where they had encountered the fallen falcons the previous night, she finds no trace of them save a single, tawny feather in their wake.

A token.

She pockets it with a smile.

That same smile fades far too fast when she comes back to find Cardan reaching out a hand towards a shrub of suspiciously familiar, dark-petaled flowers.

She’s between him and the shrub in seconds, pushing him away a little too violently.

In that moment, she was more seneschal than queen. And in the next, when her fingers tighten around his lapels out of their own accord, she is more wife than seneschal.

“Did you touch it?” Panic raises her voice. “Did you get any of it on you?”

“No. I didn’t recognize the flora –”

“Idiot, that’s probably the flower that poisoned me.” She’s checking his hands, his clothes, for traces of shimmering, black pollen.

“Is it?” He plucks one and raises it to his face before she can stop him.

“Cardan –”

“Peace, Jude. It cannot harm its maker.”

And Jude pauses, because it’s true. This flower, this island and everything on it, is Cardan’s creation. He is the root, and as he has proven last night, he is also the remedy.

A beat passes between them, and then: “Did it really have to take a noxious, mood-altering flower for you to tell me about my brother?”

Jude scowls at the insinuation. “I was going to.” She weighs the next sentence in her head. “It’s just… easier to talk to someone when you don’t give a crap what they think.”

The human word is out of her mouth before she can reel it back in, but Cardan nods.

“Yes, I think I can understand that.”

She watches him twirl the flower in his hand. With his dark hair and eyes and clothes, it is without the shadow of a doubt that he created it, that it sprung forth from him and his magic. It belongs with him; it is him. She can imagine it pinned to his collar, petals of black glitter, an extension of his essence.

“We should inform the Bomb. Tell her that an antidote won’t be necessary.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Cardan grins at her like they are old friends trading a secret joke. “I can think of a few ways that an antidote could be useful.”

And Jude feels a thrill up her spine, because there is something conspiratorial in his voice, like he’s letting her in on his plan, like they are in it together, and maybe she enjoys that more than she thought she ever would. Having a partner.

“Scheming, are you?”

“I learned from the best.”

He is always more than what she thinks he is.

“That flower is connected to you. This whole island is, actually.”

“To us,” he corrects immediately, and she marks the strange note in his voice. “The island is connected to us.”

“Me, by extension,” she concedes. “But you raised this island with your own magic.”

He sighs then, as if a great burden has befallen him. “I suppose it now falls to me to name this flower, doesn’t it?”

“Well, you don’t have to name it now. We can always come back later –”

“Bitterblack,” he pronounces solemnly and somberly, and with a swiftness and surety that couldn’t possibly be borne of extemporization.“This bloom, flourishing upon the Isle of Ash, the land raised from my own bitterness, shall henceforth be known as bitterblack.”

“Um.” Jude blinks at his pomp. “Okay. Raised from your bitterness?”

“The birth of Insear marked the moment I deemed the crimes of the Undersea – against you, and against the crown — unforgivable. It was a bitter heart that sowed the seeds of this land. Perhaps it is only fitting that it was a full one that healed its poisons.”

Cardan casts her a sidelong look. He has a way of almost smiling, like the edge of moonlight peeking through the spidersilk canopy of their bed. A gossamer thing, but the light shines through.

A shame that this island will have to go belong to someone else, when she will forever remember Cardan here with her, looking at her like that.

“You brought me here to show me something.”

“Yes.” And oddly enough, his smile freezes a little. Jude narrows her eyes at it.

He leads her towards another clearing among the birches, tucking the bitterblack behind one pointed ear. There is more space here, and the air is crisp and clean, threaded through with the scent of salt and sunshine. The birches stand tall, but the sun reaches high enough to set the ash dusting the tops of the trees afire with crystal brilliance.

“What is this?”

His tail flicks once behind him. “The solution to the Insear claim.”

“What? Wait. You mean you knew how to resolve it all along? Randalin was right. You have been putting it off.”

“Not putting it off, waiting for the right time.”

“It’s been going on for weeks.”

Cardan shoots her a look. “I was supposed to ask you during the revel.”

The events of the revel — and the way it had ended, with Randalin bleeding in her chokehold — play out in her head. “Oh.”

He waves his hand. “No matter. It wouldn’t be the first time you caused a scene in front of the entire kingdom anyway.”

Jude crosses her arms. “Alright, let’s hear it, then. Tell me now so that we can put this whole thing behind us.”

He hesitates.

“Come on. Explain your solution.”

“This isn’t how I planned for this to go.”

“Planned for this to – Cardan. Just spit it out already.”

“Alright, fine,” he hisses. “I want to build a home with you. Here, on Insear.”

For a long moment, Jude wonders if she heard him right.

“Are you drunk?” Even though he couldn’t possibly be.

“I wish.”

“But the claim –”

“Is ours. Rightfully.” He raises his brow at her. “This island is connected to us, raised by my own magic. Isn’t that what you said?”

She stares at him.

“You know how this works, right?” Exasperation is clear in his voice. “I ask you to make a home with me on a new magical island, and you set yourself upon me, your acquiescence falling delightfully from your lips –”

“I do nothing delightfully, Cardan.”

“Oh, I could make a good argument otherwise.”

The entirety of last night, every sordidly delightful detail, flashes behind her eyes.

She clings to any rational thought she can find. “We already have a castle.” She thinks of the brugh, the entire sprawling mass of it. “A really big one.”

“Yes. And the Palace of Elfhame is the first place the High King and Queen should be. But often, it is also the last. A royal castle is just as much a royal warground.” He gives her a meaningful look. “As you and the rest of my family are well aware.”

Jude swallows. “What are you saying?”

“Our brugh will be the first place we make a home of, as monarchs. But it doesn’t have to be the only one.”

He turns her to face the clearing. His arms come around her from behind, his chin resting on her shoulder as they gaze out into a landscape stolen straight from the pages of a book.

“We could build something. Right here, in this glade. Where we don’t have to worry about anything. Where nothing else can touch us. We’ll close it off. We’ll come whenever we want. No spies, no interruptions, no watching our backs.”

And Jude recognizes the way he is holding her, because it’s the same way he held her in their secret room behind the throne, confessing the truths of his nightmares. “This is about protection.”

She feels him shrug. “A part of it, yes. Mostly I just want us to never be interrupted again. But there is power in protection. Wouldn’t you like that, Jude?”

Her head is swimming, because he’s put ideas into her brain, of waking up to the smell of birchwood and of walking along a glittering, moonlit shore — and they’re wonderful, damn him. If she’s being honest, those ideas came to her the moment she first stepped foot on Insear, like something in her had taken root in its sparkling soil, but she hadn’t let herself linger over them, knowing that the land would soon be treatied away.

But now, it’s like Cardan’s words have opened the floodgates, and her entire being, connected to Insear through his magic – their magic – thrums with the song of I could live here, I could thrive here, I belong here, and she aches with the rightness of it all.

“It’s not the worst idea you’ve ever had,” she admits, and doing so feels like she’s left her flank vulnerable during an open duel. She twists around in his arms quickly, before she can dwell on it. “But let’s get one thing clear.” Her fingers fist into his collar. “This nonsense about my being your weakness, that’s your problem. Not mine. I refuse to be held back by your fears.”

He nods with more gravity than is probably required. “And I could never ask it of you.”

“Then what do you ask of me now?” And because so much has changed between the two of them, because of everything that has led up to this moment, she adds, “What do you ask of me now and forever?”

He cups her face in his hands even as her fingers tighten on his shirt. “That you stay by my side. Through it all.” His mouth crooks self-deprecatingly. “And that you do not begrudge it too much that I miss you when you’re gone. That I worry. That I fear. Not because you are human, but because I hold you in my heart.”

She hates how swiftly her breath leaves her.

“Okay,” she says, more to steady herself than anything else, because this is a lot, and she’s never been good with dealing with a lot of feelings all at once. “Okay. I –”

“The rest of the kingdom belongs to the crown.” He presses closer, as if he can see her weakening. He takes a breath. “This… this could be ours. Just for us.”

“This island is too big for just the two of us.”

“No, Jude.” The look on his face is a little pained. “Us.”

A breath. A slice of time separating this moment into a before and after.

He isn’t talking about just the two of them. He’s talking about –

“Oh,” she breathes. “Us.”

“Only –” He’s scrambling a little now, she can see it. “Only if you want them.”

Them. Plural.

Jude sways a little. She’s not prepared for this. He should’ve warned her or something, because she doesn’t know how many surprises she can take in such a short amount of time.

Cardan is looking at her funny and she realizes she’s been quiet for too long. Something moves at the corner of her vision, and she realizes it’s his tail, flicking back and forth with the nervousness that he doesn’t show on his face.

“I want –” she begins, and he stills immediately, as if he could live or die on the next words that leave her mouth. “Okay. I don’t actually know what I want. I haven’t really had time to think about it. I want to talk about this. I do. And we’ll have to talk about it one day. But today, I don’t know if — if I know how, today.”

“Very well.” He says the words like he’s learning the shape of them on his tongue for the first time.

“It’s not a ‘no,’” she says quickly, before he gets the wrong idea. “It’s a ‘someday.’ Someday, you can ask me about children again. And in the meantime, I’ll think about when I can say yes. Deal?”

He touches her cheek, gentle, too gentle. “Deal.”

And all too late, she remembers the rule that she’s lived by all her life, the rule she’s broken time and time again when it came to this bewildering, beautiful boy that has made a place for himself between the stained-glass shards of her heart — never make a bargain with a faerie — because really, really, he shouldn’t be smiling like that, not like she’s given him the world when she’s barely even agreed to anything.

“Did you really plan a revel just to ask me about all this?”

“Yes. And you ruined it by taking a slice out of the Minister of Keys.”

Jude can’t help it. She throws her head back and laughs. “You’re a disaster.”

He glares, but there is no heat to it. “Only because you render me into one.”

Then something clicks into place. Something Tatterfell said while lacing her up in the dress he designed for her. For the king’s sake.

“Tatterfell knows.”

“She was most knowledgeable in your living preferences. How you like your room. Your furnishings. Your floors. I decided that I might know them, too.” He glances at the open space before them, at the sheer potential of it all. “Just in case.”

“We’ve been married for months. You could have asked me.”

“Would you have taken me seriously?”

She changes the subject, because he has her there. “How long have you been planning this?”

“A while.” Another shrug, less carefree this time. “Almost as long as the nightmares have come to me.”

Something hard glints in his eyes, and Jude recognizes the sharp lines of revenge if only because she has worn it too many times on her own face.

“All of this was as much a scheme,” he admits, “as it was a proposal to you. For to take a land borne of bitterness and remake it into a land of bliss, it would be –”

“The ultimate power play,” Jude finishes for him.

He grins down at her. It is heady, the realization that only she knows the true, full depths of her husband’s wickedness.

“I don’t have a lot of experience with blissful homes.” She feels the sudden urge to make sure he knows this. That he understands. It’s as much of a promise as she knows how to make. “I wouldn’t know the first thing about keeping one.”

“Nor I. We’ll have to learn together. Knowing you, there’ll be plenty of knives involved. But I think it starts,” he says, gathering her closer, “just like this.”

And when Cardan kisses her, Jude is sure that this is what conquerors must feel like. Because for years, she has fought for her place in Faerie, fought and bled and killed to belong somewhere.

And here it is.

Here it is, and she could dream entire worlds in his arms.

But she doesn’t have to. She has a whole world spread out before her already.

It’s a land of magic, raw and untested, ready to be discovered. A land of possibility, of infinite potential, waiting to be shaped by their hands. A land where sunlight grows and wayward falcons find peace. A land where the future blooms in full color, one amongst the thousands of flowers.

And it is theirs.

Their homeland.

______

Chapter Visuals:

Myrtle. (Love and partnership, marriage.)

End Links:

Everything: an edit.

His Door. (Cardan POV drabble, post-homeland.)

_______   

End Note:

This fic represents a lot of firsts for me: my first completed multi-chaptered story, my first time (heh again) trying my hand at smut, but most importantly, my first time encountering some of the nicest, most thoughtful people as readers.

If you’ve read and followed this little fic of mine up until the end, let me thank you from the bottom of my heart. It’s been an absolute honor to have readers like you. ❤️ I've learned so much from writing this little fic that could, and I hope to continue to grow as a writer. Thank you for coming along with me on this journey and bringing so much value to the fic writing experience – kudos, comments, and your wonderful insights and all. 

As always, you can find me and my open ask box on tumblr. 

Much love to you, always!

________

Tagging: @ireallyshouldsleeprn @nahthanks​

* Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future fics (Jurdan or other fandoms!) and it would be my absolute honor to do so!

[shortytori]

Tori Tales

Robert Moss: First Day of School

“What is this?” Robert angrily demanded as he slammed a class schedule on the kitchen counter in front of Delta. 

Without looking at him or the schedule he took a sip of her morning coffee and responded, “Those are the classes you’ll be taking starting next week. We know that you haven’t been going to school for some time, and I have decided that it would be best for the team if you also worked out your mind as well as your body.”

“Bu-but,” the young teen took a deep breath, “but I didn’t join the Alliance to go to school--I joined because I want to get to the same level as those on Team B and Team A!”

Delta looked down at him from the side, “As long as you remain dumb and ignorant you will never be on their level. You will go to Townsville High Monday to Friday, and you will not skip any of your classes. I have requested Adam and Zuri to keep an eye on you and make sure you are on the school grounds during school hours. If you do go to your classes there will be consequences, understood?”

Robert wanted to object but as he looked her in the eye he just frowned and nodded. He knew she was strong and a great leader, and he respected her commands even when he didn’t agree with them. “Yes ma’am.” He picked his schedule back up and walked back to his room. As he walked he passed Zuri and Adam and slipped them a pouted glare.

“What’s his problem?” Zuri made a face back at him.

Back in his room, Robert slammed the door and threw himself on his bed. This would be the first time he’d ever go to school. The last three years he had Cherry and Boss teach him what he needed to know to survive living on the streets, and before that he learned some things in the science lab. Was school like how shows and movies made it look? Drama about romance, teen girl fights in the hall, clique arguments? ‘What if I get made fun of and they all don’t like me?’ He sat up and frowned at himself in the mirror, then smirked after seeing his reflection. “Nah, I’m too handsome for anyone to make fun of!” He shook his head as he fed his ego.

Robert was humming to himself as he brushed his hair, getting ready for the big day ahead of him. He had woken up two hours early and had already gone for his morning swim, his strength workout, taken a shower to smell fresh and clean and eaten breakfast. Since today he decided to switch up his look and dressed in a white button up shirt tucked into light seafoam green pants and finished the outfit with laced up white vans. One last brush and finished! He smiled proudly to himself and winked, “Looking good like always!~”

With a knock on his door, Zuri called out, “Are you done looking at yourself yet? We have to make our way to the school now. I wanted to hang out with Gigi before classes start!” Robert took one deep breath as he stared at his reflection, getting rid of any nerves that were trying to make their way up. 

Opening his door he smirked at Zuri, “How can I not look at myself when I look this good?” He did a few poses to show off his pampered self while Zuri rolled her eyes and walked away. “Hey! I wasn’t done showing off how good I look!” Closing his door he ran after her and they, along with Adam, made their way to their private driver--which was curtesy of the Alliance. Within twenty minutes they were in front of Townsville High. 

Getting out of the car Robert looked up at the school and was only shocked for a second. It was pretty big for a school--didn’t these things usually only have one building? There were multiple! But those were the only things that impressed the young teen. As the three of them walked up to Gigi who had been waiting for them, Robert looked around while Zuri elbowed Adam playfully causing him to blush. It was similar to a mall that there were teens everywhere, which was good for him because he enjoyed hanging out with people his age. 

Gigi waved excitedly at Adam, who shyly waved back blushing and quickly made his way into the school alone. She looked at Zuri and Robert questioningly which they just shrugged and walked into the building together. “It’s really cool that you’re going to be going to school with us Robert!” She threw an arm over his shoulder and brought him in for a side hug. “Lucky for you, you have a cool and awesome older friend who can tell you the ins and out, the whose and what’s, and the best places to hang out!” 

“Already covered all of that in the car ride here,” Zuri smirked as she too wrapped her arm around Robert’s neck. Gigi pouted and Robert laughed at her reaction.

“Don’t worry, Gigi,” Robert smiled at the blonde, “since I’m new I’m going to need some help. So please be my ‘cool and awesome older friend’ who makes sure I don’t make a fool of myself.” She nodded with a grin and threw an arm up in a cheer. 

They showed Robert where his locker was, got his books from the school library, and showed him where his first class was. “This is your first period; 9th Grade English with Mr. Go,” Zuri gestured to the entrance of the classroom, “a warning before you see him. He looks big and intimidating, but he’s a big softie who is really into helping his students.” Gigi nodded along in agreement. “The rest of your classes are pretty close by, so just pay attention to the numbers by the classroom doors and hopefully you won’t get lost too much on your first day. We’ll see you at lunch, don’t make any trouble!” Gigi and Zuri waved as they walked to their first period class.

As he opened the door and walked in, all eyes were on the new kid in the classroom. Mr. Go stood up and Robert immediately realized why Zuri said he looked big and intimidating--the guy was huge! He walked up to him and reached out his hand, “Hello, you must be Robert! It’s great to have you in our class. Once the bell rings I’ll have you introduce yourself to the rest of the students and we’ll start our first day! If you ever need any help, please don’t be shy with asking me anything.” He pointed to a seat in the second to last row, “no one is currently assigned to that seat, so that’s where you’ll be sitting. Get your materials out and get comfortable because there’s about seven minutes before class starts.” He smiled, then walked back to his desk and took a seat.

Robert, unsure of what he needed, looked around the classroom and saw that some students had their notebooks, their copy of Lord of the Flies, and a pen or pencil so he copied them. He had noticed since he walked in that a few students were talking and looking at them, and he smirked at the thought of them talking about how good he looked. A few classmates came up and introduced themselves and made some small talk, but none of them were very memorable. 

The “bell” sounded more like a loud buzzer and it made him jump. “Alright class, in your seats! You know when the bell goes off it’s time to start the day’s learning. I know you all have noticed a new face in our class, and I’m going to give him the floor so he can introduce himself.” Mr. Go gestured to Robert who nodded and stood up.

Loving the attention, Robert smiled as he spoke, “My name is Robert. I like swimming; I actually have swam a few times in local competitions where I used to live. I also making myself look good all the time, because I do not like looking like a mess in front of other people. I also love taking walks on the beach,” at his last statement he laughed to himself and winked at the student to his right, causing them to blush with a confused look on his face. 

Mr. Go laughed as well as Robert sat down. “You seem like a character Robert, so I know you’re going to fit in well with the class. Now we’re going to start class by reading the next chapter in Lord of the Flies. Last class we finished chapter two, so can everyone please open to the start of chapter three.” As everyone opened their books and found the page, Hue’s eyes scanned the room, and his eyes met Robert’s. “Robert, since you’re new how about you take the honor and read the first page of chapter three?”

Nodding, Robert looks down at the page and began to read. The way he read was slow and choppy, and he made multiple pauses to slowly sound out words. It took him about seven minutes to read the entire page, and as Mr. Go thanked him with an awkward smile and moved on to picking the next student, Robert could feel the rest of his classmates talking about him and giving him weird looks. His ego was deflated and he felt weird, his shoulders felt tense and his stomach felt like it was flipping around inside of him. The rest of class didn’t get better, they had a group conversation about the book and he didn’t know how to take part in and they had to write and he wasn’t able to finish and was lucky to have at least wrote a page. First period ended, and Robert put his writing face down on Mr. Go’s desk and quickly waved goodbye before he had the chance to look at his work.

Second period went even worse than first, and by the time the lunch bell rang he was ready to go home. ‘I don’t get any of this. Why does any of this matter? Haven’t seen Adam or Zuri since before classes started, so how would they know if I skip my other two classes?’ He then remembered that the teachers took attendance and Zuri has most likely been hacking into the school’s system to make sure he had been in his classes. He groaned and not looking where he was going, accidentally bumped shoulders with another student. He looked at them and saw it was a girl with blonde hair and looked like someone poured 90s fashion all over her and dyed it all pink.

“I’m sorry,” the girl apologized.

“No, it was my fault. I’m sorry,” Robert mumbled and walked away before she could reply. 

Having followed a crowd of kids to the cafeteria, he looked around and couldn’t find Gigi, Zuri, or Adam anywhere in the mob of teens. As he took out his phone from his pocket to text one of them, someone shoved him as they walked passed him causing him to drop his phone. “The hell!” He bent down to pick it up and tried to glare at the jerk that bumped him, but was shocked when he saw who it was. “Vain?!”

The said teen turned around and looked down at him, looked surprised for a second, then smirked. “Well, well, well, I didn’t know you went to Townsville High.”

Wiping the dirt off his pants, Robert shook his head as he stood up. “I didn’t before today. This is my first day here.”

“Hopefully not being a complete loser,” Vain circled around Robert, “because last time I saw you was last year at the local swimming meet behind me and losing.” He then leaned in to Robert and whispered in his ear, “do you think others would find it weird that you’ve been living in Townsville all this time but haven’t been attending school? Hopefully word doesn’t get out.”

Robert’s eyes flashed red for a second and he snapped at Vain, yelling out, “Why don’t you just mind your own business!?” The students that were around the two all turned and looked at them.

A hand was placed on Robert’s shoulder, pulling him back and he heard Zuri’s voice, “There you are Robert! Already making friends I see. Hey there, hope he wasn’t being too friendly with ya,” Zuri gave Vain a friendly yet deadly glare and he scoffed.

Before he could reply another familiar face walked up in the form of Mr. Go, “I heard some yelling over here. Not fighting now, are we?” He gave all three teens a look, and with a frown Vain shook his head.

“Why of course not, sir,” he then looked Robert and Zuri and then looked back at the adult. “If you don’t mind I’m going to go eat lunch.” Without getting a response he walked off.

Mr. Go shook his head as he looked at the two teens still in front of him. “Thank you, Zuri, for helping Robert here out. It’s good to see that he’s already made some friends while he’s been here--I know being new to a big school like this can be hard to adjust to.” Zuri and Robert shared an eyebrow raised look, if only he really knew. “Though if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to talk to Robert for a minute.”

Not having an excuse to argue Zuri nodded her head. “After you’re done talking to Mr. Go, you can come sit over there with us,” she gestured to a far off table where he finally spotted Gigi and left to go sit with her.

With a smile Robert looked up at his teacher, “What’s up Mr. Go?”

The man had a bead of sweat roll down the side of his face as he rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “I saw this morning you were having a hard time in class, and I’ve talked to your second period teacher and found out you had a difficult time in their class as well. I know it’s your first day, but I could tell that you’re quite behind academically. So I...” he hesitated, feeling bad and mumbled, “I hate doing this.” He took a deep breath and looked Robert in the eyes, “I sent an email to your guardian. You’re not in trouble, but I don’t want you to fall even more behind.”

From there all Robert could think about was what would happen when he got home. How was Delta going to react?

--

Finally home, and instead of running to his room to hide, Robert walked into the kitchen and found Delta sitting and waiting at the dining table. Nervous, he sat down as well and waited for her to speak first. 

“First day of school and already getting emails from your teacher? I know this is all new to you, but I never expected I would get news so quick.” She looked at him and noticed his head was down, his eyes looked sad, and his hands were clenched into fists. She picked up the mug that sat in front of her and took a sip of her tea. “I know you feel disappointed in yourself. You’re a crucial member of this team, and you feel you’ve let us all down by being so behind in school.” She placed a hand on his head and smiled, “But you haven’t.” 

Robert looked up at her in surprise. He’d expected her to be mad, to get yelled at, or even a punishment of some kind. It’s what he was used to. But Delta wasn’t like that. She is understanding, she’s smart, she’s a good leader and knows how to help her comrades--that made Robert’s respect for her grow even more. Giving him a couple pats on the head she folded her hands in front of her. 

“Luckily for you there are ways to help you out with your schooling. You’re going to go to tutoring after school Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.” He looked at her in horror as she continued to speak, “it will be good for you to get the extra help so you can get to where you need to be.” Robert rubbed his face in annoyance; he understood why but it was just going to take time out of other things he could be doing. “I also heard that you almost got into a fight today during lunch--”

“Who told you--” Robert tried to interrupt her while he spoke but immediately stopped talking when she gave him a cold look. 

She sighed. “Because of your ‘almost’ fight and the large amount of information the Alliance apparently failed to collect on you, you will be seeing a professional psychologist by the name of Jocelyn Drakken every other Tuesday.” Robert made a face at the therapist’s last name, wasn’t that-- “yes, she is Charles’ younger sister.” Delta got up from the table and pushed in her chair. Before leaving she told Robert, “I know you will be able to handle the additions to your schedule and will work hard to improve mentally and emotionally. You are an amazing member to this team and we wouldn’t be as strong without you. Just know that all of this extra work doesn’t give you an excuse to skip your strength and combat training.”

Robert groaned as she gave him another pat on the head and left the kitchen with a soft smile. She was happy that he had a teacher like Hue that cared about their students’ education. 

‘That actually could have gone a lot worse,’ he thought to himself and smiled while he stared out the window to the beautiful view of the beach. 

Hue Go belongs to @kururu418 and is a part of the callyieverse

Mention of Blair Mystery Vanquez belongs to @aj-thegreatest​

Delta, Vain, and Jocelyn belongs to @princesscallyie​ 

Adam belongs to @purfectprincessgirl​

Zuri belongs to @des-the-girl​

[indestinatus]

Something Blue (part 4/15)

Please read it in AO3, this fic has soundtracks.

Summary: Now that Ziva is safe and can return to her family… Tony doesn’t waste any time. She’ll need to have something blue to go along with a white wedding gown.

“Have we died and reached paradise or am I dreaming?” asked Nick looking up to the clear blue sky.

The team stood assembled at the bridge that connected the sea to the island, every single one of them laughing after dancing non-stop to the songs from the boat. Their tongues tasted of bubbly champagne and citric fruit, the wind playing with their hair and the hats that scaped occasionally from their heads. The early afternoon sun was reflected on the slow waves of the pier, seagulls a constant subject of the light blue sky, following the passengers from the boat to the coconut trees. White painted every surface, from the large circular domes to the infinite steep stairs of restaurants and balconies, mixed between wide, ancient stone walls separating the many houses.

Bright yellow flowers colored the wooden stakes of the bridge, intertwined with olive branches and other herbs. At the end of it, a small wooden sign was placed on the sand, an arrow pointing northeast to one side of the beach, next to a message in elegant handwriting.

Welcome to our beginning. Please, have lots of fun. - love, T and Z.

Little bare feet came running towards the group, raising sand on its way as the summer air filled with giggles.

She clung to Gibbs’ leg and looked up, a few strands of hair coming loose from her braid which was swinging in the wind. She wore a little white dress with a floral pattern. A big gap-toothed smile framed her face as he raised her to his arms, receiving a sweet kiss on the cheek on return.

“Hey, Tali,” he said softly as the other members of the team greeted her as well, making her shy for a moment when she hid her face on the crook of his neck, “where’s your father?”

“On your six, boss,” a familiar voice greeted them.

Gibbs had never seen Tony look so happy. He was tanned, small freckles painting his cheekbones and a wide grin displayed on his lips. Like his daughter, he was also barefoot, a Hawaiian shirt complimenting his look along with black sunglasses which he put on his front pocket.

“Finally you’ve arrived, I was starting to doubt if my specialist on weddings would come to support my own,” he added with a smile, squeezing Gibbs’ shoulder, “I promise it’ll only be one though, I don’t have your kind of vigor, boss.”

He received a head slap in return.

“Nothing changed, uh?”

“It never will, DiNozzo.”

Gibbs put Tali down for a moment to give a proper hug on his former agent, patting his back firmly.

“You’ve done well, son,” he whispered in his ear.

“Don’t you dare me make emotional right now, I have a feeling my eyes will sweat a lot during the weekend,” Tony replied with a smile.

They let go and Tony surveyed the team, clasping his hands together.

“Now to presentations,” he continued, “my fondest, warmest, kindest welcomes, everyone, it is a pleasure to have you here. I see old faces and new faces,” he glanced at Torres and Kasie and smiled, “and me and Tali here are glad that you came all the way from DC to witness this miracle. And where is the Rapunzel of the story? Well, funny you should ask, she’s currently going mad about the color of the table cloths and if we should put lights on or off in a wedding set at sundown. Who knew crazy Israeli ninja was so fond of this kind of stuff?”

“We all knew, Tony,” said Palmer.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s why I’m marrying her,” he replied with a warm smirk, “so… she told me she’d meet you up the hill, where you’ll be staying, with lots of food and drinks as an apology. Go easy on her, she still has a wedding to attend tomorrow and I’m quite scared she’ll go entirely Daenerys before it happens. Then I’ll have to marry McGroom and fulfill his lifetime secret dream.”

“Oh, give me a break, will you,” McGee huffed a laugh, his lips turning upwards instantly.

“You’ll never have a break from me, McDad. Never. I will hunt you when we both become ghosts, chasing you around the cemetery as I scream McBoooo,” he lifted Tali in the air, tickling her sides before putting her back down on the ground.

“How long have you been holding this joke?”

“Well, it’s been a while since I’ve seen you, Probie, now that you’re a dad of these little monsters, you’ve been quite busy, uh?” he winked to Delilah, “two of them running around the house-”

“Just you wait,” McGee replied with a grin.

“How indiscreet, McGoo, what are you-”

Abby coughed loudly, gesturing to the wooden sign with wide eyes.

“Oh, let’s get out of the sun immediately,” said Tony gratefully, “Ziva made a whole schedule we have to follow and, to be fair, it’s quite good. She should think about working with that instead of being a trained assassin.”

“Ladies, with me!” exclaimed Abby, a hand raised in the air, “I’ll be your greek tour guide for the weekend! Yaaay! We’ll go up the hill by van so we can appreciate our surroundings,” she winked to Delilah, who nodded thankfully from her wheelchair, “I’ll be the best guide there is, you’re lucky you didn’t end up with Tony.”

“Hey!” Tony complained with a smile, “no one knows how to have fun better than I do. Okay, guys and little monsters, with me! Apparently, Tali has everything already under control.”

“Mermaids!” was all Tali said, running towards Victoria next to Jimmy.

The group dispersed, going to different directions. Tony approached Ellie, who was standing next to the one of the faces he didn’t know. The guy wore a white tank top and a Panama hat, his arms sculped and a knowing smile on his lips.

“You must be the wuss,” said Tony holding his hand out.

“News fly,” Nick faltered for a moment and glanced at Ellie, cheeks a bit red.

“Wuss…?” she asked confused.

“Ziva told me you let her win a fight,” Tony intercepted with a knowing look at Bishop, “I’m impressed, rumors are she killed Houdini.”

“Houdini? As in the magician?” asked Ellie.

“She doesn’t recall all the names, she said,” answered Tony with a smile, twinkling eyes directed to Torres, “if you excuse us gentlemen, agent Bishop,” he kissed her hand, “we got to get to some donkeys.”

“DONKEYS?” asked Nick startled, a laugh escaping his lips.

“A big greek wedding, my friend, donkeys are a must.”

Tony wrapped an arm around the man’s shoulders, directing him towards the right path.

“Just so you know,” he muttered in a tone only Nick could hear, “I made my own personal mission to make you tell her how you feel by the end of this weekend.”

Nick glanced to Tony, who was casting him a mischievous smile.

“Then where’s the alcohol, bro?”

“I like you already.”

°°°

“One… two… three!” Tali placed her little legs on top of Tony’s shoulders, his hands firmly gripping her ankles from below, “push the button,” he said as he held his index finger high for Tali.

She pushed it slightly with her finger, just as her father yelled “HERE WE GO!” and started to swing his body from side to side. A moment later, a loud splash could be heard across the waves, the white seafoam coloring the crystal blue water. Tony emerged with Tali wrapped around his torso, happy giggles echoing all around on a sunny afternoon.

“Uncle Tim, Uncle Tim!” exclaimed Victoria, wearing bright pink arm floats and a little floral cap, as she pointed at something underwater, “there, I can see it!”

“Where?” he looked at the place she was showing, Morgan in his arms with wet pigtails, “oh, I see it. You’ve found a big one, good job!”

He let his daughter float at the slow waves as he dived down to grab something at the bottom of the ocean.

“Ooooh,” said Victoria out loud, hands on her cheeks, “can I touch it?”

“Yes, just do it slowly, it’s a little gooey,” said McGee as he held the shining orange starfish at the girls’ direction.

Vitoria’s little finger touched it softly, but she backed away as soon as she got to know its texture.

“No, no, I don’t wanna touch it,” said Morgan as she gripped her father’s arm hard.

“It’s okay, Morgan, let’s just put it back where it belongs then, uh?”

He dived again to put the starfish at the sand bottom and surfaced a moment later, Victoria already swimming to another location to search for a new sea creature.

“First you turn your hands into a vessel, like this,” Jimmy laid one hand atop of each other, “close it tight, like you’re gonna catch water, and then blow steady between your knuckles, like this.”

A loud high pitch whistle reverberated across the rocks they were sitting when Jimmy blew inside his hand, similar to the sound of a clear flute.

“Whoah, do it again!” exclaimed Johnny, trying to mimic his hands.

“Just like the Cherokee Indians,” Jimmy repeated the whistle, now changing the notes and creating a soft melodic pattern.

The coconut trees swayed with the wind, the rays of sunshine kissing their skin and marking their cheeks with soft freckles as it descended on the horizon. Minutes stretched into hours, and time turned fake in the children’s hands. It seemed infinite. The afternoon could go on forever.

It was paradise.

A loud whistle blew from the sand, revealing Senior calling the group with an energetic wave. He walked towards Gibbs, who was sitting in the shade carving up something out of a piece of wood.

“Can’t they stay like this forever?” asked Senior, a sad note in his voice.

“No,” Gibbs replied, looking to the horizon, eyes hard and sad, “no, they cannot.”

The children came running towards the plates of strawberries and pineapple, screaming with delight and raising clouds of sand in their wake. They threw themselves on the colorful pillows scattered on the sand floor, wet bodies splashing drops of seawater all around them. Their fathers came close behind, Tony shaking his body like a wet dog making everybody laugh.

“Palmer, can I talk to you for a sec?” he asked softly, after drying Tali’s wet hair with a towel.

“Yeah, of course,” Jimmy passed the coconut to McGee and got up, going with Tony towards the sea again.

Once their feet touched the waves, Tony turned to him, arms crossed and face furrowed in concern.

“Did you have the chance to bring it? I know I shouldn’t ask you that, it’s just, I think she would-”

Jimmy opened up a smile.

“What are you talking about? Of course I did, they don’t call me a man of honor for nothing,” he replied, squeezing Tony’s shoulders slightly, “don’t worry, my friend, everything’s gonna be fine. Great, even, you’ll see.”

“I’m not worried.”

Tony raised his clear eyes to Palmer, but the harsh laugh that escaped his lips revealed otherwise. The men laughed together, patting each other in the back and walking towards the children.

“Have you ever been closer to paradise than this place?” asked Torres, sitting on the slackline he had just proudly crossed, with sunkissed skin and eyes facing where the sky met the sea.

“Did you know the definition of ‘paradise’ ultimately comes from an Iranian word that the Greeks modified into paradeisos, meaning ‘enclosed park’,” answered Ducky, a bottle of cold water in his hand, “in Hellenistic Greek, “paradeisos” was also used in the Septuagint - an early Greek translation of Jewish scriptures - in reference to the Garden of Eden. So we are staying where the word came from.“

"I’m gonna take that as a no,” Nick replied laughing.

“I’ve arrived a little bit later than I’ve expected and I didn’t have the chance to see young Eleanor,” Ducky sent an amused look to Torres, “is she well?”

“You too, Ducky? Can’t no one give me a break?”

“Oh, I’m only asking, Nicholas, you seemed rather close,” but Ducky’s eyes were not so clueless.

“I’m sorry, yeah, yeah, she’s great,” Nick replied shrugging.

Ducky let out a charming laugh, looking up to the clear sky, “I think this is the worst-case scenario for someone to give you a break, Nick. We are at the wedding of another office couple, after all.”

“Another…?”

Nick pointed his index finger to Ducky and then put it on his lips, asking for silence, “please don’t go spreading out this idea to the others, Doctor Mallard.”

He stood up and with a surfboard under his arm, Nick raced towards the ocean. The wind was perfect for surfing at the calm waves.

Ducky reclined himself on his sun lounger, taking a sip of his cold water, “oh, I think they already know, kid,” he laughed to the sky.

°°°

“To your left. No, your other left. Yeah, up a little bit. A little bit more-”

A loud crash sounded when the glass jar shattered at the tiles, flowers and candles scattering everywhere. Ziva cursed in a foreign language, already bending down to the clean the mess on the floor.

“I’m sorry, Ziv,” said a younger cousin of her, who came along with her family from Tel Aviv to eat and dance for free, as well as try to help her with the numerous decorations. She was hanging the lights up in the olive trees, but there were so many of them to coordinate with the flowers and pieces of cloth, even Ziva was a bit confused with where to put them.

“It’s okay, Sorsha, I’ll handle it later,” she replied with a smile to the young girl standing up at the ladder, a guilty expression on her face.

“We still have to set the tables and wrap the gifts and talk to the band,” proceeded Ziva exasperated, sighing tiredly with the back of her hand rubbing her forehead.

“And test the lights,” added Sorsha, who now ticked things out of a small paper list, “and see if the cake turned out okay.”

“That Odette is taking care of, you can cross it out.”

“And welcome the guests.”

Ziva stopped where she stood and turned around as soon as she recognized that voice.

“Breena,” Ziva opened a wide grin to her old friend, who came running to hug her tightly, “I’m so glad you’re all here!”

Ziva greeted every one of them with a kiss on the cheek, bending down to talk to Delilah.

“You must be the one who finally stole Tim’s lion heart,” she said with a knowing glance.

“I know, I’m still shocked from time to time,” Delilah replied with a smile.

Ziva gave her a thankful nod, and no words were needed.

“Okay. Food. You must be starving,” she came back to her worried self, tying her hair into a knot, “I just need to check a few things.”

“Hey, are you okay?” asked Jack, her professional voice taking over, “Ziva, I think you need to relax for a bit. You’re the bride, remember? How can we help?”

“Take her out of here,” declared Odette, who was guiding two people with a large flower vase nearby, hands on her hips and a meaningful smile at Ellie, “or I will myself prohibit her getting any closer.”

“I’m- I’m sorry. I think I bit more than I can screw,” said Ziva, trying to recompose herself.

“What…?” asked Kasie, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“We called it Zivaisms,” answered Abby, grabbing Ziva’s arm and leading her towards the accommodations, not caring about any response, “when Tony is not around to correct her, we just ignore the weird and move on.”

“I tend to do a lot of ignoring the weird and moving on down at that lab,” remarked Kasie.

Abby looked at her with a wide grin, then started to jump up and down, not being able to contain her excitement. She let go of Ziva to run towards Kasie and hug her tightly, while the bride just burst out laughing with the scene, finally letting herself relax.

“We have so much to talk about,” said Abby, arm wrapped around Kasie’s shoulders, “what kind of music you play there now?”

“Uh-”

“It doesn’t matter, I’m so excited there’s finally someone who understands. YAAAY!”

They walked together until they arrived at the lodgings, stationed just above the sea, the white stone balconies disappearing among the many similar others along the coast. The air smelled of sea salt, dried herbs, and the feeling of freedom of a new vacation about to start. Ziva entered the bridal room, making everyone cheer when she showed the sign of “Future Mrs.” placed at her door. A smooth wooden table filled with plates of fruit, various types of seeds and pastries greeted them, along with bottles of cold champagne and rosé wine. Across the hall, a white bed was stationed in front of a large floor to ceiling open window, the big beige curtains flying with the ocean wind.

The view was magnificent.

It was close to the sea so it was possible to discern the silhouettes of the villagers, but far enough to have some privacy. The sound of the waves could be heard all over the room as they hit the cliffs, the constant splashing a calming tune. A small dressing table was placed near the windows, seashells covering the whole surface around the mirror.

Only three objects were set on top of it.

A photograph of Rivka and Eli David, arms wrapped around each other when they were incredibly young, the Jordan mountaintops behind them. Its frame was made of pearls.

A photograph of Ziva holding her sister Tali’s hand, her brother Ari at her other side, all laughing, their bicycles laid on the ground. Its frame was made of buttons.

And a photograph of a man pointing to the camera, his eyes looking towards a little girl whose face was dirty with the chocolate ice cream she held in her hands. Tali was smiling, her baby teeth appearing through her mouth in a wide grin, dark brown eyes twinkling. Tony was also beaming, as if it was the first time he made her truly laugh.

That one she didn’t frame on purpose, the paper almost damaged with time and constant folding to pocket size. It was the most precious to her.

“Whoah, that’s a hell of a view,” said Kasie, eyebrows raised and mouth opened in an oval shape.

“Perfect, wouldn’t you say?” Abby replied, sending Ziva a naughty grin and wiggling her brows.

“Abby,” Ziva huffed a nervous laugh, her cheeks reddening in a rare moment, “this isn’t where we are going to stay for the honeymoon.”

“Why not?! It’s the perfect place, with a great view of the stars, and the sea-”

“Abby,” Ziva stopped her, “he did not want to tell me about it.”

Every woman looked at Ziva, all casting disbelieving glances at each other.

“Really?” asked Jack, “is he that good?”

Ziva smiled shyly, looking down to her feet.

“Yeah,” she answered, “yeah, he is.”

Giggles filled her room, and for the first time in her life, Ziva David was grateful to have such a great female company.

“I’m so glad that you’re here, ladies. I was getting suffocated with all the planning and the last minute decorations. At least Tony is taking care of Tali, or else she would’ve wanted to opine on everything,” she smiled with the thought.

“So, Ziva, tell us the news! How did Tony propose?” asked Ellie, sitting down at a nearby chair after Abby popped open a bottle of champagne, “we didn’t hear anything about you until the invitations arrived.”

“That… that’s a very long and funny story, but we have something more important to discuss first.”

Ziva grabbed a grape and threw it in her mouth, chewing slowly while studying Ellie, who seemed a bit nervous with the sudden turn in the conversation.

“Eleanor, will I need to give you the bouquet directly or are you already aware that Nicholas is fond of you?”

Ellie froze. Her cheeks blushed until the redness reached her ears, and she huffed a laugh while putting a loose strand of her hair behind her ear.

“What? No. Nick? Puff, no way. He’s… he’s just… he’s my partner. We’re coworkers, nothing will happen.”

Everyone glanced at her with a bemused look.

“You do realize what we’re doing here this weekend, don’t you, Ellie?” asked Sloane carefully, placing her hand on top of Bishop’s.

“A wedding?” Abby giggled, “Of… coworkers…?” she added.

Ellie opened up a shy smile when the women started to shake her shoulders and cheer, her cheeks turning even redder than she thought it was possible.

“Don’t worry, uh?” Ziva cast her an honest look, “just have fun and I promise you, time will tell.”

°°°

“HEY TATER TOTS,” called Nick from the water, four kids giggling behind him on the low waves, “HEY, BISHOP!”

Ellie startled where she was lying down on a sun lounger, back facing the sun and wearing a high waisted bikini set. The warmth made her head dizzy with sleep, and she was so tired from the long journey, she didn’t even notice when the back massage Ziva arranged for her ended and when she started to only sunbathe.

“WHAT DO YOU WANT, BRUSSELS SPROUTS?”

“I have a dare for you.”

She startled once again when she realized he was standing just next to her, drops of water wetting her shoulder when he bent down to whisper in her ear.

“What… what dare?” she turned around carefully, hands shading the sun from her eyes as her skin started to tingle with the sight of Nick’s silhouette against the sun.

“I dare you to do a better handstand than those kids.”

“What?” That was unexpected.

“The one with the higher score is Tali. For now. Johnny said that it was because she was older, so I told him you’re older than any of them and doesn’t know how to do a proper handstand.”

Ellie snorted a derisive laugh, taking Nick’s hand to help her stand up, “do you think Eleanor Bishop doesn’t know how to do the most simple summer thing such as a handstand?”

“You’re talking in third person, creep,” he repeated her words from hours before, racing with her towards the kids. Sounds of constant laughter and waves crashing echoed all around.

Abby had taken every one to show a little cave she found with clear hot springs inside, near the cliffs on the other side of the beach. Gibbs and Jack had gone to the opposite direction, walking in the sand until they weren’t visible anymore around the bend.

Meanwhile, Ziva had arranged back massages for her and Ellie to enjoy the little spare time she had before the big event.

She now was lying down at a recliner chair, knots on her back coming undone by the amazing hands of the venue massagist. Her maroon bikini top was untied and she rested at the shade, palm trees swaying with the wind next to her. Her mouth tasted of cold sparkling wine, the sensation of bubbles exploding on her tongue still lingering. All she could hear was the wind, the birds and the sea nearby.

“Hmmm,” she moaned as the massagist touched a particularly painful spot. Her vertebrae cracked carefully under his fingers and the muscles started to slowly relax.

It was heaven.

“Hmmm, just like that, yeah.”

“Miss?” asked the young massagist in a polite tone.

“Hmmm…?” was all she could muster.

Ziva heard the loud sound of children laughing far away, followed by one “I win!” muffled by the powerful wind. She didn’t have a clue what that might be, but she smiled softly with the thought.

The massagist’s hands left her back from a moment, the wind caressing her skin and making her shiver.

“Uhh,” he said, a nervous note distinguishable in his voice, “are you the one getting married, miss?”

His hands returned, massaging her shoulders and the back of her neck as she moaned out loud with the sensation. She was alone and didn’t care about anything or anyone, to be honest. Tony was showing the surroundings to the guests with Abby and Tali was playing in the sand with the other kids. This was her moment, and hers alone.

“Yes, yes I am.”

“And… and who is the groom?” the young man asked politely, voice now steadier once she stopped with the moaning.

“He…” Ziva did it again just to feel him stiffen, biting her lower lip as a loud sound escaped her throat, “his name is Tony. Tall guy. Talks a lot.”

This is still too easy.

It was few the moments in her life Ziva David had truly felt like a woman, only when her job demanded and when her guilty desire asked her to. Now, she had a little girl who asked her about princess’ stories and glittery clothes, a good man at her side whose eyes always landed on her filled with need and a wedding party about to happen.

With a white gown and something blue included.

It all seemed like a dream, after years running away and hiding from Sahar, she was now in this beautiful place with all her family to cherish her wedding.

The girl who ran all her life had finally found herself.

“Is he… is he here?” asked the massagist, hands trailing down her lower back with care.

“Yes, he is. Well, not now, but you know, I do hope he is at the wedding, at least.”

“Of course.”

He changed the position of his hands to press down at her calves and Ziva purred in delight. She felt him bending down to massage the back of her knee, so she moaned once again just to play with him, her sassiness on overdrive.

“Is he, you know, strong? Knows how to fight?”

Ziva’s mind filled with images of Tony with shoulder holsters and sweaty skin, and she had to bite her lip again to prevent her from muttering anything too inappropriate. Gosh, the waiting for this honeymoon would make her explode with greed until there.

“Yeah, I’m afraid he’s pretty good at it.”

The massagist hands trailed the back of her thigh, making a skip from her hips to her lower back again.

“Is he… good looking?”

“Oh,” she smiled with the sight of him in formal attire tomorrow, “oh yeah-”

Her voice abandoned her as she felt the young man bending down atop of her and doing a fast lick at the shell of her ear.

“HEY, WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?”

She quickly grasped her bikini top to turn around and stand up, wanting to punch him right away, but his body pressed her down at the chair, laying on top of her back.

He was too heavy, and for a second she couldn’t move from the position she was lying down.

She had to think fast.

She had to found a quick way out of here.

“I could ask you the same thing, Dah-veed.”

Tony’s raspy voice caressed the back of her ear just as he came closer to place a lingering kiss on the crook of her neck.

“You have no self-respect moaning like that, do you?” he grabbed her hair to position her neck how he liked, placing wet kisses from her shoulder to her earlobe, “you have no respect for the groom also, uh? You do know he’s obeying your wishes to wait until the honeymoon, don’t you?”

He kissed her neck, again and again, and again, making her dizzy and hot and sweaty. Her skin began to prickle wherever he touched and she could feel a tingling sensation starting to grow strong at the base of her belly.

“You do know,” another kiss, “that you’re driving him crazy,” another kiss, “with your bikini like that?”

She started to shiver and couldn’t take it anymore as one of his hands trailed down to grab her firmly at the waist.

“Tony, I-” a loud moan escaped her lips as he pressed his whole body hard on her back.

“He can’t. Wait. For tomorrow. Sweetcheeks,” he said slowly, the syllables leaving his lips just as he placed kiss after kiss on her neck, again and again, making her want to scream, her heart threatening to explode.

Tony planted a wet smooch on her ear, making a loud 'pop’ as he moved away, letting her turn around. An amused smirk danced on his lips as his green eyes gave an appreciate gaze down her body, waiting for her as she tied her bikini. The young massagist was nowhere to be found.

“It was you all along?”

He opened up a boyish smile, eyes growing dark as his gaze lingered on her lips a moment too long.

“Did you really think a massage that good could be done by a shaky little guy in training?”

Ziva chuckled, licking her lips as she watched Tony’s eyes carefully trace her tongue with hard focus.

“How much did you give him to ask that stuff?”

“Your habilities are faltering, Israeli, once upon a time you could sense me in your sleep just by my marvelous natural musk,” his eyes darted from her lips to her chocolate eyes, the color almost invisible as it became two completely black orbs.

The air between them was filled with electricity, the tension almost unbearable with Ziva licking her lips and Tony tracing her tongue with his eyes.

“Just kiss me already, will you?”

She opened up her mouth to welcome him, his wet tongue crashing into hers with obvious need, smooth and tasting of cold tequila. He moved closer to her, wrapping his arm around her waist, the other lifting to her hair as he intensified the kiss.

Ziva couldn’t think straight, she felt like she had drunk at least a whole bottle of wine, mind blank with all the senses taking over her. The warmth in her belly was spreading across her body, through her veins, and, judging by the way he was groaning into her mouth, she guessed he felt the same.

They were sweating as the lust and desire for each other scrambled on the surface and the body heat between them could cause a fire. It seemed that neither of them wanted to stop the kiss.

But it was necessary to inhale, so Tony drank in her lips for one last long moment and then released them with a soft moan. He opened his eyes and licked his lips, tasting her on them as he looked at him and saw the effect of the kiss. She banged her head once lightly against the chair, feeling completely dumbfounded and, with closed eyes, took a deep breath.

“Why did we wait so long again?” Ziva asked, voice quavering and raspy.

“I ask that myself every day,” Tony answered with a wide smile, “so do you think, HEY-”

A pair of steady hands gripped him at his shoulders and lifted him from the chair, just as another held his ankles and he started to be carried away from her.

“Not now, pal,” said Nick, holding his ankles and moving towards the other side of the beach, “you got somewhere else to be.”

"No, no, no, guys, put me down."

“A bachelor party, I think,” added Jimmy from behind, hands under Tony’s arms.

"PUT ME DOWN," exclaimed Tony, tossing in his friends' arms.

“For the one and only Anthony DiNozzo,” said McGee, winking at Ziva as she chuckled, “YOU CAN HAVE HER TOMORROW,” Tim put his hands in a shell shape, his voice echoing across the beach.

“SHE’S MINE EVERY DAY,” Tony yelled back, trying to turn his head towards Ziva but the guys didn’t let him.

“Is he drunk?” she asked, crossing her arms and eyes twinkling.

“No, he’s not,” replied McGee, a knowing smirk on his lips as he nodded towards Tony, “I think he’s just in love.”

[capricornus-rex]

The Haunt of Redemption (8)

Sequel to: A Path I Can’t Follow

Chapter 8: Same Link, Different Mettle | Cal Kestis x Reader

Summary: It has been months since your last encounter with Cal, at that time he was a fledgling Inquisitor. In an ironic twist of fate, you cross paths and blades with him once again, and he’s keen on turning you into an Inquisitor as well—unless you bring him back to the light first.

Tags: Dark Side! Cal Kestis, Inquisitor! Cal Kestis, Redemption Arc! Cal Kestis

Also posted in AO3

Chapters: 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6 | Previous: Chapter 7 | Next: Chapter 9 | Masterlist

8 of ?

Alyon greeted you with black cliffs topped with green patches of grass that rose to the skies, seafoam that’s whiter than bone striped the deep blue seas, and golden patches of sand mingled with the lush green jungles resting at the foot of the mountains.

The Mantis found a nice spot to land on—by the mesa that overlooks the seaside town not bigger than the one in Hoga.

“This place is mesmerizing, [y/n],” Merrin commented.

“It’s not every day we get to beautiful places in the galaxy without the Empire chasing us,” Cere added.

“Yeah, well, hopefully this time—they won’t,” you abruptly stood up from the seat. “I’m gonna take a look around,”

You darted towards the room and got dressed, donning Cal’s Bracca scrapper poncho for the first time. With the Holocron gone, it felt like a load has been lifted from your shoulders—literally and figuratively—as you wore the straps of your bag. BD-1 hopped onto your shoulder as you leave the room.

“I don’t have to tell you again, [y/n],”

“Yes, Cere, I know. Don’t die. Or was it be careful?”

“Both, actually.”

“Gotcha,” she smiled.

It’s a perpetual question in Cere’s mind how you’re able to smile in the midst of all this predicament. Perhaps, it was an indication of your strength. After all that torment you’ve endured in Cal’s absence, you weren’t just back to normal—you’ve changed but for the better.

Compared to your pit stop earlier, trekking through the terrain was a breeze. The sight of the ocean lifted your spirits, the blades of grass tickled your calves, and the sun mildly shone above your head. Along the way, you frolicked in the wild plains—spinning and sprinting around with a child-like innocence—the flaps of your poncho felt like wings as the untamed winds blew to your direction.

There was no sign of the Empire in that seaside town, diverse peoples inhabit the settlement. Yet, the population seemed sparse for a sizable settlement. Your arrival was met with curious stares and vendors’ hollers. There’s no team of armed men marching to your general direction for the welcome wagon—nevertheless, you remained vigilant.

“Stay close, BD,” you muttered.

You approached a fruit stall and browsed; an animal penned inside a stable right next to the stall bleated to get your attention. Ever the curious friend, BD-1 perched onto the fence post and scanned the animal that was chewing on a stalk of hay.

“I knew you’d take a scan of it!” you teased.

BD-1 chirped, you translated it to him saying the animal’s name.

“That, my dear, is a Dimal,”

The fruit stall owner pointed at the tall, woolly animal, its jowls flopped and its rounded upright ears twitched with every chew of the hay stalk. You treated it to a Meiloorun fruit. You brought it close to the Dimal’s mouth, sniffing it first before gobbling it up in its mouth.

“You’re welcome,” you chuckled.

Even with its mouth full, it replied with a muffled grunt and continued gnawing on the large fruit in its seemingly narrow mouth.

“Haven’t seen you in these parts,” the same shop owner blurted, his native dialect was thick.

“I’m a traveler, I just got here,”

After shopping, you headed back to the ship, the old man was kind enough to slip in a few extra berries for the road. You expressed your thanks and went around the town some more—and there was a lively sound coming from up ahead.

Music.

“Do you hear that, BD?”

“Booo!”

“Come on, let’s go take a look,”

You followed the music, colorful notes emitted from the various instruments. A group of dancers performed in perfect synchronization in the middle of the square, their footwork followed the speed of the fifes, the bystanders that circled them clapped to the beat of the drum, and for the finale they cheered once the abrupt strum of all strings of the lute signals the climax of the song.

The dance concluded by a round of applause from the crowd, which you’ve included yourself, you try not to stand out so you immediately vanished from the scene—though it was such a nice sight. You can’t remember the last time you’ve seen a street performance or festival.

—–

Three days of refuge in Alyon.

For once, things are seeming fine. But you know perfectly well this wouldn’t last, you’re still gripped with the anticipation of the Inquisitor’s arrival now that you’ve engaged with them—Cal, in particular.

You decided to tell your encounter with Cal through the Force with Cere, and you made sure you speak to her about it in great confidence.

“Cere, something strange happened on the day we left Tatooine and headed to Alyon,”

“And what’s that?”

You don’t even know where to begin explaining it.

“Well, it’s… how do I put it? I sort of saw Cal, here in the ship,”

“You mean, in meditation?”

You shake your head, “I wasn’t even meditating! I was doing something on the workbench and then I heard a voice call me, there was like a feeling that I can’t explain. At first, when I turned around there was nothing, so I thought I was just hearing things; but the second time around, I… I find Cal standing inside my bedroom!”

Cere’s head angled to the side, something about her expression alarmed you the same way you alarmed her with your story.

“Could it be…?” she muttered under your breath, though it was still within your earshot.

“Cere, what is it?”

Cere gradually stood up from the couch, “Hold on, I think I have something!”

She retreated to her own quarters where she rummaged through her rucksack. Shortly after, she reappears with a tome with a maroon leather cover, the metal accents along the corners and spines have tarnished, and the edges of the yellowed papers have chipped away due to age. She flipped through the pages looking for one specific section.

“Cordova learned about this phenomenon with the Force many years ago, while I was still his Padawan. Whatever he could find that pertains to it—he wrote it down, drew figures and diagrams, and added his own insights of his research!”

“What’s it called?”

“It’s a Force-Link. Look here,” she scooted closer beside you, pointing at the written paragraph on the page, her finger following the words as she read it out loud. “It’s said a phenomenon when the Force connects two Force-sensitive individuals, regardless of the distance in between, who have forged a dyad.”

In her excitement, Cere beat you to it—though, it felt like she sensed you’d ask about the last word in the paragraph—and flipped over the pages in search of the entry about Force dyads.

“Here,” she pointed at the first paragraph written underneath the header word, and read out loud word-for-word. “A connection that is forged with the Force between two Force-sensitive individuals.”

Cere skipped the longer metaphors and the personal diary entries that Cordova has written. More pages unraveled its mysteries and the woman impulsively read out loud—mostly for her own indulgence.

“Those who are out of the dyad could not see, feel, or hear the other side of the occurrence,”

This explains why the crew couldn’t hear Cal’s voice as you spoke to him during the first Force-Link encounter. Unfortunately, the explanation about manipulating it to either wielder’s whim—such as when will the connection start and when it’ll be severed—appear to be vague.

“Do Force dyads and Force-Links really seldom happen?”

“Yes, it’s quite rare. When I was a Padawan, I never met another Jedi who shared a dyad with another. But now, coming from you, I truly think Cordova was onto something back then. The bond you’ve shared with Cal factored the Force in allowing you to communicate.”

“I wonder if it’s another sign that he can be turned back to the light,” you thought out loud.

Apart from skimming Cordova’s manifests, strolling along the shoreline in barefoot, skimming rocks, seashells, and coral fragments that beached along the sand became a new pastime for you.

You enjoyed this new breed of solitude, but you’re still haunted by that mirage encounter of Cal back inside the Mantis. You find yourself secretly hoping that it would happen again.

On the other side of the galaxy, Cal has been poring page after page for any result about your Force-induced encounter. There were few resources found in his chambers in the command ship, there weren’t any valuable information found in the holotable’s databank either. The whole ordeal irritated him.

“How is it possible not a single manuscript was written about this!?” Cal roared, his mask did little in muffling out the sound, he punched the rim of the holotable in fury.

The last thing he thought of was retracing his steps, but the problem is: where does he even begin?

After all, it only happened abruptly and he had no control over it, because it felt like it came to him naturally. Cal theorized that it might be your own doing, but in reality, it wasn’t. He immediately dismissed that theory and went back to pinning down the Force as the primary culprit—frankly, it was the only logical culprit.

“Deep breaths,” he chanted to himself, doing exactly what he tells himself as he paced back and forth inside his room.

In the most uncanny of timings, that very same sensation returned to him—as if someone tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention—he abruptly turned around, he was surprised to see you standing inside the chambers with him.

“You’re quite elusive,” he initiated.

Your reaction to his appearance was understandable, your shoulders flinched while gaping at him. This is also the first time you saw him wearing a mask which muffled his voice, yet still coherent. Although the first time was docile, you can’t always count on him to be the same in the next.

You didn’t reply. You secretly fiddled the small seashell you’ve hid inside your fist while you conversed.

“I still don’t understand how and why this is happening to us. Can they see me?” he added.

“I don’t know…”

There was a stale air looming between you and the Eleventh Brother; the crashing waves of the sea and the machine hum spoke on each other’s behalf. You pursed your lips and your fist clenched tighter, the thin edge of the seashell dug into the flesh of your palm.

“You seem confident. Confident that I’ll never find you after you fled Cameegon like a coward.”

“I’m no coward! I’m not the one who gave in so easily!” you snarled.

“I take it that you’re not coming in quietly,” when he got the silent treatment from you, he continued. “Alright, then you’ll have to watch another innocent town be reduced into rubble like Cameegon. You wouldn’t want, would you? That’ll be a lot of blood in your hands.”

The Inquisitor noticed you flinch and he took pride in provoking you. He takes one step forward and you ignite your saber, having him at swordpoint.

“Ooh, feisty aren’t we?”

“You’ll never find me,” you hissed softly, although it was still within Cal’s earshot. “You’ll never turn me into what you’ve become!”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that. We always find our way to each other, don’t we?”

He spoke the exact same words from his secret projection, a line that you knew too well and caught you off guard; a great thunderclap coming from the horizon startled you—the saber fumbled in your hand and the seashell fell from the other—and he disappeared from where he stood when you looked again.

The same went for the Eleventh Brother. The vibrant apricot seashell clattered on the polished black floor of his chambers. He took the delicate object into his hand and examined it. You unintentionally have given him a clue.

The boy Inquisitor rushed to the command ship’s bridge as fast as he can. His entrance alerted the attending officers; he approached the admiral and held up the shell to his face.

“I want this scanned. Trace its origin planet.”

The officer didn’t have the luxury to ask why and simply obeyed. The admiral took the shell from the young man’s hands and handed it over to one of the computer operators. In less than two minutes, the operator returned the shell along with a small datapad containing the findings.

“Sir, analysis traces it back to Alyon, a tropical planet in the Enca Sector, Ganiv System—it’s in the Outer Rim,” the admiral reported.

“Transmit the coordinates to my ship. Two TIE Fighters and an escort shuttle will come with me.”

“Right away, sir!”

The Eleventh Brother leaves the bridge on the way to the hangar.

“I have you now, [y/n].”

A storm was brewing that evening in Alyon. The thunderclouds have loomed closer to the shore in a dramatic speed. The winds have already picked up, the rain flew in like tiny knives pricking your skin, and the downpour caused the tide to rise earlier than usual. You hurried to getting on higher ground before the water has fully covered the shore.

You pushed through the raging winds, sheltering BD under the flap of your poncho. You blamed yourself for strolling farther from the ship, nightfall has reached you as a consequence, additionally, the town wasn’t any nearer either so it’s not an option.

“No…!” you gasped when the sky had gotten much darker, it doesn’t help with the storm joining in the problem.

The surroundings were all gray and visibility has dropped to zero. You barely see anything in this smokescreen of hail and fog. BD-1’s lights paled in the darkness. You stamped through the damp fields, the harsh winds swayed you farther with every step, but you fought it.

“Almost there, BD-1, hold on!”

Neither you nor BD-1 are safe, not until you’ve set foot into the Mantis. The growing sound of the TIE Fighters’ engine growls signaled their approach and a TIE Interceptor landed at a close distance from you. The hatch opened and out comes Cal, the Eleventh Brother. He stood upright in the midst of the storm, the bright red beam of his lightsaber lit up in the deep grayness.

You’re not going down without a fight.

Cal darted the air towards you, lightsaber at the ready, he found your block weak—it seems the storm has taken its toll on your body. However, he gave credit where it’s due—he admired your fighting spirit. You remained more on the defensive for the greater portion of the fight. The lightning afforded you short bursts of light to see your opponent better—rather, his next attack position.

“There! I see them!” Cere cried, peering through her binoculars and spotting two streaks of light dancing in the fog.

A TIE Fighter sends twin projectiles flying towards the Mantis, barely missing the dorsal fin of the ship but close enough to give it a rumble. Greez started the engine in a panic, Cere ordered him to stay low so they can still pick you up; although, that plan didn’t go so well.

The bitter cold of the wind disoriented you, the angry waves muted the hisses of lightsabers colliding with each other, your head was swirling, the veins on your temple throbbed, and your body had a battle of its own from within. Your lungs struggled as it sucked in cold air, fog wafted through your teeth as you dueled Cal.

The Eleventh Brother watched you charge towards him, ready for a dashed strike, and he prepared himself to time it just right.

Close enough!

You feel your entire body freezing up again, as if an icy gust blew throughout your entire being. The last thing you remember is a hearing a thunderclap mingle with the crash of the ocean, a flash of lightning glowed brightly in your puffy, heavy eyes and then suddenly darkness.

The Eleventh Brother caught you in his arms, carrying you bridal-style, and marched to the escort shuttle that he ordered to be included in his convoy.

“NO!!” Cere cried, a crack of lightning flashed as she witnessed him carry your unconscious body.

Your eyelids blinked the dancing lights away until your eyesight has adjusted to the brightness of the room. You gasped upon waking up, you weren’t sure how long you’ve been, but it felt like a long time. Your arms and legs had limited movement, later discovering that you’re strapped into an interrogation machine. Your heartbeat sped up tenfold, you surveyed across the room starting from the ceiling and then the middle part until you found a Stormtrooper standing beside silhouette across the room.

“Good, you’re awake,” the silhouette spoke, arms crossed in front of his chest.

“Do you have any other orders, Eleventh Brother?”

“No, I’ll handle this myself. Leave us and wait for my orders,”

“Yes, Eleventh Brother.”

The Stormtrooper departs, leaving you and the Inquisitor in full privacy.

The red glowing accents of his mask lit up in the shadows, he blended perfect well in the darkness. You don’t know what to say back first, frankly, you don’t know what’s happening and how it came to this.

“Is that what they call you now: Eleventh Brother?”

Your snarky question got no reply from him. He removed his mask and placed it on the nearby podium. With that accessory gone, he massaged his jaw and craned his neck until you heard some bones popping.

“Yeah well, you can still call me Cal,” His roguish grin played along his face.

“Where are Cere and the others?”

“No idea,”

“You lie!”

“I never lie—especially to you,” he calmly said.

The young Inquisitor stepped into the light, revealing himself to you once more. There were a few inches dividing you from him. The white light shone over his hair, revealing the faint redness of his hair past the darker tints. You find that there was no terminal like the one in Nur; it was only him and you strapped into the contraption. Surely, this confused you, at the same time it relieved you that you’re spared of the electrifying torment—for now. No wonder the Stormtrooper was suggesting a better chamber.

“Where am I?”

“In an escort shuttle, en route to Koboth,”

“What is it that you really want, Cal?”

He clicked his tongue, rolled his eyes to the side, and then grinned as he spoke.

“Oh, I think you and I both know that already.”

For every word he said, he took one step closer, “I want the Holocron.”

You smirked, even chuckled, in retaliation. You teased him, inching your face closer just so he’ll hear better.

“I don’t have it.”

The small yet sadistic smile that painted his face melted away. Part of him doesn’t want to believe you, and the other does. With your natural talent for theatrics, it’s hard to decipher you—even for him.

Your smug face and arrogant sniggering was beginning to bother him. So much so that he was starting to think you’re not playing around.

“You’re wasting your time and energy, you know,”

“Maybe I’m not making myself clear,” he sighed. He starts to remove his glove.

Preemptively, you know what he’s about to do to you. Your heart pounded in the wildest pace; suddenly, his Force-ability that once fascinated you, now terrifies you. Cal ignored your desperate scrambling in the contraption, but it somewhat satisfied him.

“That’s my poncho,” he cooed and an evil smirked curled at the corner of his lip.

He reached for you, avoiding his touch is futile. His bare hand is now at a fingertip’s reach from the fabric, sinking away into the contraption wasn’t much help for you either. His grip clutched a portion in the middle—your shirt underneath it was caught in his hold as well—and sharp pangs of light jabbed his vision, a hollow rippling warm drummed in his ears.

“Good night, Cal…”

Your memories have ingrained into every thread, a vision plays out in his mind: he sees you snuggling up to the poncho in bed, keeping it close to your face as you slept, the nightly sobbing rung in his ears, and the warmth that the poncho gave you during cold, sleepless nights wrapped over his shoulders.

“This isn’t who you are!”

“All this time… and we never even got a look.”

That sudden shift of emotions startled him, but he kept his grip—physically and mentally. The Inquisitor wanted to extract as much as he can to exploit you. To him, it was a game; for you, it was a mental war. He witnessed your recent memories—he now knows that you opened the Holocron and took a glance of the contents, he heard the festival music from the town in Alyon, and then he saw the waves tugging away from the shoreline.

“You saw what’s inside the Holocron!” he exclaimed. He pushed further into you using his Psychometry. “What did you do with it?”

“GET OUT OF MY HEAD!!!”

The boy Inquisitor was surprised to find that you’re able to fight him off—at least, his grip on your mind. When his influence is now absent in your body, your head hung low as you gasp for breath and fight off the throbbing pain in your head. His mischievous grin stretched from ear-to-ear.

“Interesting…”

He nestled your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting you upwards so you face him, your head bobbed slightly as you’re weakened by the infliction of his Psychometry. He inched closer to your face, the tips of your noses touched.

“My darling, you never cease to amaze me.” He teased you, the bottom of his lip softly brushed across yours while keeping an open grin, his stubble scratched your chin. Your indifferent expression met his roguish smirk as he pulled back inches away from you. A sadistic snicker hummed from his throat and he gently releases his hold on your face before leaving you in your cell.

[jincherie]

opia | 02

♥  — pairing: taehyung x reader  ♥  — genre: cupid au, soulmate au, cupid taehyung, (future angst & fluff). kind of slice of life ♥  — words: 8.2k+ ♥  — rating: sfw ♥  — warnings: none! ♥  — notes: yoooo whats up!!! bet u didnt think this bad boy was getting an update before the end of the year!!

Taehyung has been matchmaking since the dawn of time, bringing souls together with their other half and inspiring love. But as time went on the joy he gained from his job and creating happiness for the humans began to fade, a wanting and desire welling up in him with each century that passed for something more, something unattainable, something he knew he wouldn’t ever have. Taehyung knew why he didn’t have a soulmate, and why he couldn’t ever experience love as the humans did. But then, he couldn’t seem to fathom… why didn’t you?

masterlist || prev. | next  — posted; 14.09.2019

It was only the second time you'd seen this building, but the awe-inspiring sensation from the first time still lingered within you. Bright Helios Entertainment was one of the bigger names in the business with their finger in a number of pies, from music, to movies, to models, and probably more. If someone in this city didn't know who they were, it would probably be safe to assume that they'd just moved here or they'd lived under a rock for a majority of their life. Rosé would probably be inclined to assume the latter, but you'd like to give them the benefit of the doubt. Nonetheless, Bright Helios Entertainment took up the second biggest building in the heart of the city, and it was where you went for an interview on the Friday just passed, and where you were about to start the job you successfully acquired from said interview.

It was a bit of a rapid hiring process, as you were quick to find out when they sent you an email informing you of your success the very next day after the interview. Apparently, they were in desperate need of the position being filled. You couldn't understand why, though, considering your position was really quite basic and they probably had a hundred others in the same one.

Oh well. You weren't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Finally, you managed to quit marvelling at the shiny aspects of the building and forced yourself to enter before you spent a little too long dilly-dallying and made yourself late for your first shift at this job. The interior, just as it had been the last time you were in here, was still as sleek and gorgeously designed as you remembered it. Smooth, velvety reds and seafoam blues were used in combination throughout the building, an unexpectedly pleasant looking design choice. You'd asked the receptionist about it when you were here last, and she'd happily informed you it was actually the CEO who designed the whole building. Well, you had him to thank for the aesthetically pleasing journey to the floor where you would be working from now on, you supposed.

Straight in through the front door, down the hallway to the left with the tall potted plants, and into the pristine, shiny elevator at the end— this was how you got to your floor. It was floor 49, the last floor below the CEO and higher-positioned official's level. Not bad for your first gig, you admitted. You were excited to see if the view was as nice as you were imagining.

The elevator ride was filled with soft jazz spilling from the speakers above your head, surprisingly the tasteful kind. You usually turned your head at the mere mention of jazz, having been scarred by certain experiences with your aunt as a child, but this... you had to admit, it wasn't bad at all. Props to the corporate DJ responsible.

Up the floors you went, and with each one the nervous response that hadn't quite hit you yet finally began to sink in. This was it, a brand new job with amazing pay and hours and you were about to embark on the very first shift, where your first impressions were definitely going to matter. Suddenly paranoid, you checked your watch before letting out a huff of relief. Nope, still good for time. You lost a few minutes back there but you're still fifteen minutes early so no need to stress.

The elevator climbed the floors faster than you would have liked, though, and soon you were breaching the 40th floor and trying not to panic again. Okay calm, calm. You needed to be calm and collected so you could focus on being on top of your game and making the best impression possible on your new boss...

....whoever that may be. They didn't really tell you.

The elevator dinged, signifying the arrival of your floor far before you were ready, and you had to quickly clear your throat and swallow down your nerves. Attempting to school your expression, you took a breath as the doors opened and then made your way out. Here went nothing!

The lady who had emailed you told you that the person you would be an assistant to had their own office-slash room at the end of the hall to the left. Each corner of the room was marked by a different pair of potted plants, and the ones that marked their little alcove had two vibrant tropical plants and some angelica flowers in pots mounted to the wall above them. You had to look up angelica flowers to know what exactly they were, but since you did that you now spotted them with ease. Steeling yourself, you turned and began to make your way there. Your shift started not long after theirs did, so they should already be there to greet you when you arrive. At least, that's what the email told you.

However, contrary to what the email told you, when you arrived at the end of the hall and saw a cleared desk by the window with nothing but a monitor (presumably your station), and a reasonably sized office sitting behind glass windows and a large glass door, you found that it was empty. You paused, allowing your eyes to sweep the place once more. No, definitely empty. They weren't here? Some of the tension your body held immediately departed at the discovery, a huff of relief passing your lips. Okay, that was fine. Maybe they popped out for a bit? You could use this opportunity to settle in a bit, get your things set up. A smile touched your lips at that. Perfect. Stepping forward, you got started straight away, placing your bag down on the desk and beginning to pull your items out.

It didn't take you long at all to finish setting up, since you didn't exactly know what you'd need and so didn't bring all that much. When you finished placing your little potted succulent by the computer monitor, you were at last forced to face that fact that you now had nothing to do. Turning slightly, you affirmed that your new boss wasn't here yet and you hadn't been left any tasks (the email had said that you would receive a list from the person you were assisting, one that had been given to him to pass along). Well, you really had nothing to do— you could go on your phone or surf the web on your computer, but you really didn't want to risk such a thing on your very first day. No, you were going to be the best, model employee. Even if you currently had nothing to actually...do.

Left to your own devices, it was natural that your mind began to wander. Lately, though, a wandering mind hadn't been a good thing, since more often than not your thoughts brought you to that man.

That night, after what happened at the club, you'd been so worked up that you hadn't been able to sleep for hours. The whiplash you'd gotten, seeing him so soon after convincing yourself that he was nothing more than a figment of your imagination, had really shaken you. Rosé had been a bit too drunk to really investigate your odd behaviour, and considering she'd crashed as soon as you got back to her apartment, you knew she wasn't going to remember it in the morning to ask.

You'd gone to bed slightly panicked, but when you woke in the morning, you felt surprisingly much better. Perhaps that advice your mother always gave you about sleeping on your problems had some merit to it after all. You were still unsettled, yes, but also... you felt oddly detached. It probably helped that you hadn't seen the man since then (likely due to the fact you hadn't really left your house in a while except for the interview and runs to the corner store, but you digress) but it felt as though you were able to distance yourself a little bit from the whole ordeal. Yeah, you were still slightly paranoid that you may or may not be being followed by a (really handsome) strange man who you (thought) you'd seen do questionable (impossible) things, but you were able to take a deep breath and not let the resulting panic consume you. You'd say you'd come a long way, since those first few weeks after The Incident.

Actually, for the most part it sat in the back of your mind, only presenting itself in situations such as this one where you had literally nothing else to entertain your poor monkey brain.

Thankfully, you were saved from further ruminating on the odd events that had occurred to you as of late by the sound of light footsteps beginning to echo down your hall, and you looked up expecting a new face belonging to your 'boss' but were instead, to your complete and utter surprise, greeted by the sight of the woman that interviewed you, striding around the corner in her dress slacks and long-sleeved blouse. As her eyes fell upon you they lit up, a bright smile pulling her lips.

"Good morning, Miss y/n!" Sunmi greeted, flashing perfect teeth as she beamed at you. "How are you today?"

Even during your interview, Sunmi had managed to put you at ease, and now was no different. The smile you returned was automatic. "I'm fantastic," you said, inclining your head as she drew closer. "How are you?"

"Oh I'm good, I'm good—" Sunmi waved her hand through the air, smile growing lazy before her eyes swept to the office behind you and she halted, dark brows drawing together. "Oh, he's not in yet? Trust him to pull one of his disappearing acts when he's meant to be meeting his new assistant."

You were slightly confused until you recalled that your job was you being an assistant to someone, someone who had yet to show their face. You let out a nervous laugh, not wanting to get them in trouble when you hadn't even met them yourself yet. "Oh, uh... no. I haven't seen him yet."

Sunmi hummed, staring blankly into the office as her thoughts consumed her for a moment before she snapped out of them and turned back to you with a winning smile. "Well, doesn't matter! You'll meet him later anyway, doesn't matter what time he drags himself in I suppose. You're his assistant so he can't avoid you forever!"

You weren't sure how to respond to that, but settled for a soft laugh since it was a little funny.

"Now, you're probably wondering what brings me here," Sunmi began, taking strides to round the desk and arrive at your side. "I see you've managed to log into the system and everything— great! You're already ahead of half the employees we've ever hired."

That got another soft snort from you, and Sunmi seemed pleased that her comments were being received well.

"Anyway, I'm here to show you the ropes— in actuality, you don't have that many role-specific tasks that are all-too important but, well..." She straightened, brushing her long ponytail of silky black hair behind her shoulder. "His manager actually called in for some sudden time off, a family emergency or something along those lines. So, although you've only just started today, a lot of his tasks... will be going to you. But don't stress!"

She whipped her hands up as though to placate you, still smiling. "We'll help you with everything you need, and I'm here now to run you through it all. So don't worry, okay? It'll all be fine!"

Admittedly, you were feeling kind of overwhelmed and more than a little panicked, but you slapped a shaky smile on for her sake and nodded along. "Okay."

Sunmi breathed a sigh of relief. "Okay. Fantastic. Well, first thing's first! Let's show you how to view the schedules..."

x     +     x     +     x

By the time your lunch break rolled around, you couldn't be more thankful for it. The work you were doing mightn't have been all that hard, but you'd been loaded up with a lot of information at once and so... you were getting a bit overwhelmed. Sunmi seemed to sense it, and had wrapped up her teachings for the day, saying she'd taught you all the vital thing's you'd need to know for now and that she'd teach you more tomorrow. She also happened to be a saint, you realised, as she promised to print out some instructions for you to refer to for all the things you'd learnt today.

You'd only really known her for a collective few hours, but if she were to ask you to marry her you'd probably say yes.

It was around eleven-thirty that she'd dismissed you to go on lunch, telling you that you had the freedom to choose when in the day to take it so long as it was between ten and two. She left you with a small list of tasks to complete afterwards, saying that so long as they were all completed you could leave by three. You didn’t think that was too bad of a deal, especially since the tasks, from what you’d seen, didn’t seem to be too difficult, which meant you’d get to take your time and familiarise yourself with them, make sure they were done properly.

Each floor had a lunch room of its own, but considering that the floor you were on didn’t have that many occupants in the first place, it was about as empty as you expected it to be. Humming to yourself, you made yourself at home and took advantage of the expensive coffee machine as Sunmi had advised you to, using her parting words to tell you in a rush all the goodies the lunch rooms had to offer. You’d said it before, but right now you were so thankful for that woman you were contemplating getting down on one knee.

Your lunch passed pretty quickly, but not alarmingly so. By the time it was over you were refreshed and ready to get started on the tasks that you’d been left. Nodding to yourself, you cleaned up your mess and tidied the lunch room before beginning on your way back to your little work alcove. Idly, you wondered as you walked, if you were actually going to meet the person you were meant to be assisting today. Intermittently throughout your little teaching session, Sunmi had muttered about his apparent tendency to suddenly disappear at odd times of the day and often in the middle of a task or job. He always came back, but apparently never explained where he went and just went on as if nothing was out of order. If Sunmi’s grumbling was anything to go by, that was the part that irritated her the most.

She had assured you, though, that you were going to like him and enjoy working for him. You could only hope she wasn’t trying to blow smoke up your ass and he wasn’t actually a massive asshole or an old pervert. You really did know almost nothing about this man, so you were a little apprehensive but tried to keep an optimistic outlook.

After returning to your desk, you took a moment to have some water before beginning on the first of your tasks. You needed to read over some of the business proposals and requests and pick out some of the seedier ones to be flagged, the likes of which would then be reviewed and dealt with from there. An odd task for your role, but you did it anyway.

One by one, you worked through the items on the list that you’d been given, none of them particularly hard but some of them a little more arduous than others. At numerous times, did you find yourself thankful for technology. Some of these things would have been a bitch to do without a computer and a handy search filter function.

It was about ten to three, and the end of the current task you were on was just on the horizon. You’d slipped into a sort of intense focus for the moment, your back turned to the hall as you sorted through forms to photocopy. If you’d just been a little bit more tuned in with your environment, then perhaps the sudden sound of an oddly familiar baritone wouldn’t have made you jump out of your skin as much as it did.

“Oh, you’re the new assistant? You’re here already? Ah, I should have read my emails this morning…”

It took a moment for the fright to leave your muscles before realisation kicked in and they were tensing with it again. You spun around, eyes wide and mouth falling open. Him. It was him. No way…

The man whose face had been haunting you for weeks froze on the spot, mid-stride and hand outstretched for the handle of the glass door leading to the office behind you. The office… that was meant to belong to the man you would be assisting and working for.

Oh no. This couldn’t be happening.

“You,” he breathed, hand falling to his side as he adjusted his stance to face you better, dark cocoa eyes sweeping along your form as though trying to discern if it was really you or some sort of illusion. A humoured, curious smile began to curl the corners of his lips. “Well, the Fates have brought us together again, it seems.”

Something welled in your lungs, and for a moment you thought it might be fear but suddenly it seemed to tug and pull and you realised, with a certain sense of cognitive dissonance, that it was longing. It was that realisation, that scared you.

A part of you, the bolder, sassier part, instantly brought forth the urge to accuse him, 'Are you following me?'. He seemed genuinely surprised to see you here though, and you were a little too stuck in the shock of the situation to be throwing witty remarks out.

"You... are you the one who that office belongs to?" Apparently you could manage to get something out though, a question that carried an undertone of the slight fear you had— fear that his answer would confirm your suspicions and your fate. Was it too early to quit if he said yes?

The male tilted his head, flaxen strands whispering across his forehead at the movement like silk. You couldn't decipher the meaning of whatever was swirling in his eyes, and you weren't sure you wanted to. One thing you were sure of, though, was that your heart absolutely did not stutter or skip a beat when his smile grew and you were hit with what had to be the full radiant brunt of it.

"And if I said yes, would you run?" he asked, voice running like velvet over your ears. You hated that it almost made you shiver from the sound alone. You weren't a schoolgirl, and this dude was probably a massive creep! Get a hold of yourself!

He had you, though. You felt oddly called out, flustered, heat rising to your cheeks and burning the tips of your ears. His eyes flitted over, catching the way your skin flushed, and you almost expected him to coo from the way his expression shifted ever so slightly.

"Maybe," you finally answered, voice level and almost challenging. You supposed you were compensating subconsciously for how unsettled he was currently making you, in a number of ways. "Are you going to follow me if I run?"

You weren't sure what he had been expecting, but apparently it hadn't been that response. He blinked, still for a split-second as it registered before he tilted his head back and let loose a pleasant laugh. Regrettably, it made your heated cheeks flush further. This was ridiculous.

"I guess we'll see," he said, infuriatingly neither denying or confirming that he had been following you. You needed some closure, some assurance that you weren't losing your mind bit by bit. You felt as though you were about to burst, the sudden situation very quickly growing overwhelming for you.

The male seemed to sense it, posture shifting into a more relaxed stance and leaning slightly back, working to make you feel a little less threatened. Oddly, it seemed to work. The elevated rate of your heartbeat, something you hadn't even felt rise, began to settle at the subtle shift of pressure in the air.

"Well, I wouldn't want to keep you from your work," he said, tone amused. He angled his body towards the office— which you now recalled with a sense of regret was actually pretty much open with those glass walls facing you and posing as the only tangible thing between you— and began to stride that way. His hands soon grasped the sleek metal handle, but before he entered, he threw one last sly smile over his shoulder and murmured, "I look forward to working with you, y/n."

The sound of your name rolling off his tongue really did make you shiver this time, the nerves at the back of your neck tingling and sending tiny shots of electricity down your spine. You didn't understand the reaction, and didn't really have time to try to before he was slipping into the office and leaving you to your own tangled thoughts, still flustered and somewhat bamboozled over the whole situation

Surprisingly, the dominant emotion that resulted from seeing him in real life once more wasn't fear. Actually, at this point you could say you were mostly confused, oddly. For some reason, the sight of him no longer activated your flight or fight response so strongly, but rather, it reached to an obscure part of you. Each time he stepped into your world he left more and more of an echo, a lingering presence in your thoughts that you couldn't help but keep coming back to. You weren't happy about it, but there wasn't really anything you could do about it either.

You were expecting to spend the last hour or so of your day on edge, with a constant feeling of being watched, but to your complete and utter surprise when you finally gave into the gnawing urge to turn and peek over your shoulder, you found the blinds on the other side of the office windows (which you hadn't even noticed where there in the first place, to be honest) were drawn. It seemed he was kind enough to afford you this decency— you didn't know how to feel about it, and so tried not to think to hard about it.

Contrary to whatever else you might have expected, you spent the rest of your time simply doing your remaining task without so much as a peep from the office. With the blinds drawn in an unspoken promise to leave you undisturbed, it seemed he was intent to follow through. By the time you managed to finish everything up and began packing your things away, the most you'd heard from him was an odd scuffling sound, and then a dull but potent thud and a subsequent exclamation of pain so low you almost strained to hear it. It... had been an audio story.

After checking it was past three and you were free to go, you were quick to take advantage of that and essentially hightailed it out of there, mind racing in the background as you did so.

Weird. This was so weird. But what was weirder still, was that each time you happened to encounter him, you felt a completely different way about it. You'd think that encountering the same guy you (allegedly) saw shoot people with a bow and arrow at your new workplace as the person you were going to be working directly for, would be a little more alarming. And yes, you were alarmed, and wary and cautious, but you didn't feel the same level of— of almost primal, instinctive fear, as you did that first night you encountered him.

Perhaps it was because, for whatever reason, he now beginning to feel less like a threat and more like an enigma; an anomaly, a puzzle piece that you wanted to take and see where it fit.

You supposed that for anyone normal, the logical thing to do when they found out that the person they suspected of 'following' them happened to be at their new workplace, would be to quit that job and leave that workplace. You didn't want to, though. Most of it was due to your inherently stubborn nature, and the fact you actually liked this job and its perks a lot so far, and you didn't want to bow your head to him even when it came to something like that. The rest of it...

You weren't ready to admit that just yet. What you were ready for, on the other hand, was to finally dump the whole of your experience on one of your best friends.

You dialled the most recent of the two in your call history.

“… Yes? Is there a reason you interrupted my nap?”

“Rosé,” you huffed, slightly out of breath from the way you’d hurried from your new workplace. “I have a lot to tell you— you’re never going to believe this, but—okay, well, first I have to tell you what happened a few weeks ago—”

You ended up telling her everything, every detail you possessed, and the call... didn’t end for a while.

x + x + x

The next day of your new job at the entertainment building office came quicker than you were prepared for. You'd spent a good portion of the previous evening after your shift on the phone to Rosé, filling her in on all the things she'd missed— or rather, all the things you'd neglected to tell her dating back a few weeks. The situation had shifted somehow, just minutely, but it was enough that you'd felt you could now finally tell her all the wack shit that had been happening. It had been easier, too, now that you weren't scared as much as you were slightly humoured by the incredulousness of the situation. Rosé had probably actually been more stressed out than you, and threatened numerous times to beat your ass for not telling her sooner. You were probably not going to drop by her place for a few days, and hoped you wouldn’t run into her in the building before she cooled down. r

Of course, there was still a generous amount of nerves at play as you got ready the next day and made your way into the building that was very quickly becoming familiar to you. The pleasing aesthetic of the floors as you passed them was almost enough to soothe you completely, but the closer you drew to your floor the less you were able to escape the recollection of who exactly it was you'd been assigned to assist. The feeling fluttering in your abdomen was different to the sensation you might have been inclined to expect. You didn't feel sick or nauseous from the nerves, and while you were cautious you weren't too on edge. It felt less like a natural reaction to be wary of the situation, and more like a conscious one. Why that was, you had absolutely no idea, but you were hoping as the day went on that the reason would go ahead and reveal itself to you.

Smoothing the top of your slacks one last time, you took a deep breath and rounded the corner, biting the bullet and entering the short little hall that led to your office alcove. The first thing you noticed was that the desk was, thankfully, exactly how you'd left it, save for a thin pile of papers stapled together and placed neatly next to the keyboard, and a short piece of paper with several bullet points hand-scribbled onto it. You supposed that was your list of to-do's for the day, courtesy of Sunmi. You were glad that she'd prepared things in advance, because otherwise you might have been a bit lost and overwhelmed for what to do.

Making your way over to your desk, you tried to prolong the inevitable for as long as possible before you finally caved and could resist no longer. Your eyes strayed as they'd strained to ever since you entered the hall, flitting to the glass windows that hid the man's office behind them. Oddly, you didn't even know his name— something you'd realised while spilling your long-winded tale to Rosé yesterday. The nameless man who drew your gaze effortlessly and seemed to appear wherever you were consistently for the past few weeks, give or take a few days, was— to your surprise, considering how yesterday went— actually in his office when your gaze swept to take it in. The current open nature of the blinds permitted you the sight of him leaning against the large window in the room, gaze unfocused as he stared out and spoke into the phone held to his ear. The pose accentuated the long line of his legs in black slacks, belt cinching at narrow hips and tucking in the bottom of his loose-sleeved button up, the white and baby blue granite swirling pattern unexpected but not unflattering to his tanned complexion and ashen hair.

He looked a little too good, and you tore your gaze away before you had the chance to lose yourself in observing every little detail about him. Somewhat dutifully, you took your seat at your desk and began unpacking your things, hoping to go unnoticed and unsure how successful you were at doing so.

Thankfully, the first part of the morning went easily. You completed the first few tasks that Sunmi left for you without a problem, since they were related to all the things you'd learnt yesterday, the knowledge still fresh and readily accessible in your brain. Some of the other tasks were taking you a little longer though, and it was as you were in the middle of attempting to navigate the scheduling software that your first disturbance of the morning made itself known.

It began as the soft sound of footsteps pattering down the other end of the hall, something that actually took you a moment to decipher amongst the soft hum of your computer and the noises filtering in through the crack of the opened window to your side. As soon as it registered though, you realised that it seemed to be growing louder with each second.

You could only sit in confusion as the source came rushing down the hall, revealing itself to be a male of average height with dark raven hair and honey skin, a loose, flowing white shirt and ripped black jeans the only thing you were able to catch sight of before he bolted past you and straight into the office behind you. You were mildly alarmed, and part of you wondered if he was even meant to be here since you'd never met him before, but you decided to let it be and promised yourself that you'd step in if there was bloodshed.

The (second) mystery male made a loud announcement right as he ripped the office door open and strode inside, voice incredibly resonant and melodic for how loudly it rung throughout the rooms.

"TAEHYUNG, I found her! It took a while, but—"

As he entered the room and the glass door sealed closed behind him, his voice all but completely disappeared. Which, considering your current position, you shouldn't have been disappointed about, but you kind of were. Anything that would shed more light on the man in that office was welcome in your eyes, even if obtaining that information meant... eavesdropping. Which, you were well aware, wasn't a good look on someone that had been hired barely twenty-four hours previous.

It almost physically hurt to keep your neck in place and not turn your head to look into the room, but somehow you just barely managed to keep yourself on task and somewhat focused on your actual work. You'd see how long this lasted.

x x x

Meanwhile, on the other side of the glass, Taehyung was trying to lose the smile climbing onto his lips as Jimin skidded to a stop in front of him, slightly out of breath— which really said something about the state of his stamina, since he technically wasn't human.

"I found her," he repeated, voice breathy as he sucked in air. His raven locks were windswept and ruffled and if Taehyung hadn't seen him rushing down the hall himself (by chance, since he absolutely had not been looking at you through the glass window of the office) then he might have been wondering exactly how he brought himself here that rendered him to such a state. "That girl you wanted me to find but gave me, like, absolutely no information on. I found her. She's—"

Jimin paused at Taehyung's uncharacteristic show of silence, following the line of his gaze when it flicked to the side subconsciously. A sputter escaped him, incredulity displayed across his features, "— ...sitting right there. She's sitting right there!? Taehyung, I'm going to be honest with you, if you sent me on a wild goose chase for some girl that already works for you—"

Amused as he was, Taehyung didn't feel like dying today— the shirt he picked out was too nice to get blood stains on. He hurried to appease his brother, hands flying up in a gesture of surrender. "She didn't! When I summoned you, she didn't work here. I had no idea that she would end up here... I was very surprised when I walked in yesterday. I told you, I keep seeing her in places, but this is something else."

Jimin halted where he had been mid-stride to come deliver a firm hit to Taehyung's arm, hand hanging mid-air. As Taehyung's words began to sink in, his arm lowered back down to his side and his face adopted a curious, pensive expression. His lips jutted out in a slight pout, something the taller male doubted he realised he did when he was deep in thought.

"Hmm, do you think maybe it's for a reason, then? Does the Above have a task for you? Have the Fates assigned you a test?" Jimin asked, leaning his hip on the side of Taehyung's desk. "Wait, but you said you can't see her Soul String, right?"

Taehyung nodded, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath before looking at you with his Sight once more. He'd been doing it all morning, admittedly. It had never happened before, that he had encountered a human without a Soul String, and now that he supposedly had, he couldn’t help continuously looking back and double checking, somewhat convinced it was just a trick of the light, or something along those lines.

Because when it came down to it, such a thing shouldn’t be possible at all.

When the human soul came into creation, it was split in half. The cloth of creation never birthed a single human soul, they came and pairs and that was simply the way it was, the way it had always been and always would be. As such, on the material plane every human soul presented with an intangible Soul String that tied them to their other half, the piece that would complete them. So why, then, could he not see a Soul String tangled around you?

As he’d come to expect after checking back all morning, when his eyes landed on you once more it was no different. All sorts of strings wrapped around you, tied and tangled around your soul, deep in your being. Yet none of them were a Soul String, the most vital tie of all. It completely threw him for a loop, and simultaneously alarmed him and intrigued him. He didn’t know what to do about the situation— didn’t know what was even wrong enough to have caused this in the first place, really—but the prospect of something new, and different to the usual same, mundane task he had, was…

Well, it was exciting.

“There’s nothing,” Taehyung murmured, unaware of the way his brother admired the soft pink glaze that fell over his eyes as he used his gift. “I mean, she has strings, but… no Soul String. It’s the same as I told you last time. It’s simply not there.”

Jimin hummed, turning to look at you as well despite the fact he didn’t have the same gifts as his brother.

“Well,” he commented, dark eyes swinging back to Taehyung. “She’s here now. I’ve been rendered useless. Now that you no longer need me, I’ll be off tending to my actual job.”

Taehyung blinked, his gift slipping back into dormancy, and turned to shoot his brother a silly grin. “Oh? You’re leaving? And here I thought you’d want to stay and play a round of mariokart with me….”

Jimin paused, mid-turn, and his head whipped back to face Taehyung, lips already forming a half-hearted warning. “Don’t—don’t you dare, Tae. I need to go—you know I need to go. I won’t… I won’t be lured… by some stupid human game…”

Taehyung opened the drawer at his desk above the one that contained his summoning bowl, fingers playing over the surface of the console in question as though he was luring the attention of a cat. Jimin’s eyes, as expected, followed the movement and shot wide. He seemed torn, and Taehyung was about to exploit it.

“Oh, you can’t?” Taehyung poked and prodded, voice turning pouty and playful. “Or you won’t, because you’re a chicken?”

That was it, that was the jab that always—ALWAYS— got Jimin to break. Insulted beyond reason, the male squawked and began stomping over, fist raised and ready to beat him.

“I’ll kill you for that comment! How could you? Bastard! You know I’m sensitive about that—”

Taehyung was promptly tackled, a loud laugh spilling from his lips as he stumbled backwards under the weight of his brother. He was lucky he hadn’t let the extra parts of his true form out, or else they’d be in a lot of pain right now.

x    x    x

Hearing a scuffle, you really couldn’t help it when your gaze finally flew to the window of the office. It took you a moment to really take in the scene before you, and by the time you did you were stifling an inappropriate laugh.

Were they wrestling? Fighting? You didn’t know, but your ‘boss’—you really needed to find out his name—was laughing so you supposed it was all right.

Seeing them messing around and having fun eased a bit of the nerves that had settled in your stomach when you hadn’t done anything earlier. You felt a little bit of guilt in advance, should the man who went in there have been doing so to hurt the other, but now… you were appeased. Oddly.

Shaking your head, you turned back and tried refocusing on your tasks. You were making decent headway and didn’t want to lose the streak, so you ducked your head down and got back to work. As you did so, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was what your job was really going to be? Considering you’d been hired as an assistant for someone. It was an entertainment company, and Rosé had said it was for a model…

You froze, mind ticking over painfully slow. Wait. Did that mean that man was…?

Resisting the urge to slam your head to the desk, you shook it once more and channelled your remaining focus. You just had to focus! You could wonder about your boss later, now was the time for work.

You kept your head down for most of the day, eyes to the screen, but you couldn’t help that your ears were stuck to the glass walls. You couldn’t hear a thing, but sometimes when your monitor went dark you caught glimpses of the two in the office, and each time it was like a candid insight into their dynamic. The way they seemed to hold themselves in each other’s presence was similar to that of siblings, and you thought it was ironic if that was the case that you’d already indirectly met your boss’ sibling before even knowing his name.

The dark-haired male didn’t stay all that long, only an hour or so before he was re-emerging from the office, actually acknowledging you this time. The look on his face was odd, indecipherable, and held in place for a bare moment before it shifted into a bright smile that had you forgetting the previous expression was even there.

“Sorry to disturb you,” he apologised, bowing slightly. “We’ll probably see each other again, but until then, take care of Taehyungie!”

And then he was striding down the hall, a small bounce to his step that made the silky raven locks atop his head move with each stride. You blinked, and he was gone, and you were left one more to the list of tasks you had to do. Barely, you restrained yourself from turning and looking into the office. Why were you so innately nosey?! This was getting out of hand. It was probably just because your brain yearned for something more exciting than a computer screen, you attempted to convince yourself.

The interaction with the dark-haired man had been short and confusing, but you did latch on to one specific piece of information—the name that had been tacked on at the end. Taehyungie. You were assuming that it was a nickname, but then what was his full name?

As though through download of divine enlightenment, when your eyes next flicked to the screen, they fell upon a name up in the corner of the appearance request sheet you were processing. Oh. Instantly, you felt a little stupid—this little blurb was on almost every piece of paper you saw, and yet you never processed it.

‘Kim Taehyung.’ It read in the top left corner. On another sheet in particular, it offered some extra information. ‘Model, Actor, Vocalist. 24 years.’

Well, the professions explained a lot.

Feeling appropriately stupid, you hurried and processed the paperwork by entering the requests into a digital form and submitting them for approval. By this point, it was actually almost three, and you were determined to get out as soon as possible so that you could finally cleanse your brain of the thoughts that didn’t seem to leave while you were in this building. Nodding to yourself, you doubled down and got straight into it.

Process requests. Respond to email inquiries. Go over schedule and print. Give schedule to T.

The list Sunmi had left you truthfully wasn’t all that long to begin with, and even now you were nearing the end. Just three tasks left, and you worked your way through them one by one. Miraculously, you seemed to finish right on time at three thanks to your increased efforts and drive to get out. Slamming the print button on the schedule you’d just gone over, you then began packing up your things, mind already miles away. You hadn’t greeted your boss, Taehyung, in the first place, so it felt awkward to make a point of saying goodbye. Musing over that, you crammed all your things into your bag, taking the printed paper into your hand and checking your desk before nodding and making your way out of the room. Alright. You were done. Time for your flight response to calm down.

Out into the main floor, into the elevator, down to ground floor. You were excited about the prospect of finishing so early-slash-on-time, and to be honest thinking about what you were going to eat while you called Rosé. She demanded after you told her everything yesterday that you update her today, wanting to know whether you really worked for a creep or if it was all coincidence. To be honest, after witnessing him today and considering the fact he hadn’t even gone out of his way to interact with you—plus what you’d seen of how he was with that other man… you were kind of on the way to deciding that he was harmless. Wild concept all things considered, you knew, but hey maybe he deserved the benefit of the doubt.

Mind consumed by thoughts of other things, you got about ten paces onto the footpath outside the building before you registered the paper in your hand and remembered that you were meant to actually give the printed schedule to Taehyung, and not just hold onto it to take home as you were.

Groaning, you turned somewhat reluctantly on your heel and began making your way back in. Guess your day wasn’t over quite yet.

x     x  

The second you were gone, Taehyung felt like he might scream in relief. His back was in an absolute state; he hadn’t gotten to letting out his form in the past few days and it were absolutely itching to emerge, the muscles across his shoulder blades and down his spine aching and scratching beneath the skin. The second he was sure you left the building, he fell back into his chair and let out a huff, closing his eyes to take in a moment of piece before he did what he had to.

Keeping all of himself in this human form was incredibly hard and taxing, and if he didn’t let his less human traits out every so often then eventually they’d burst out at an inconvenient time, unwitting and unstoppable. Technically, humans shouldn’t be able to see those parts of him anyway, but in the history of his existence there had been a few, and it wasn’t always the easiest experience to deal with. So, he’d learnt to be very careful—and with you, especially, he had a feeling he should be extra careful and on-top of things. He just hadn’t realised it had been so long since he let them out, you know?

Taking in another breath, he let it sink into his lungs before he was lurching smoothly from the chair, beginning to pace around the room and create distance between himself and any breakable objects… if there were any left after all the time he’d been in here. His shirt was quick to go, his love for it saving it from a few irreparable rips and tears. Rolling his shoulders and stretching his arms, he prepared his physical form for the way it’s limitations were about to bend and break. It didn’t strictly hurt, this process, but it wasn’t the most comfortable ordeal either. Taehyung strode over and made sure the blinds were closed before he turned back and made another two or so laps going from one side of the room to the other. Okay, he was warmed up.

Almost subconsciously, he wound up by his desk and pressed his hands to the surface, pointing his back to the ceiling. He felt the change looming beneath his skin, writhing and throbbing and ready to be set free. Taking in a deep breath, Taehyung released the hold he had on it, and felt it instantly snap free. Sudden intense pressure in his shoulders, a pinch like a nerve being pressed, and then a weight that was somehow simultaneously light and heavy at one. He heard the flutter, felt the slight breeze generated.

The relief was instantaneous, a serene smile tugging his lips. It was like getting home and then immediately changing into his softest, most comfortable human sleeping clothes, spending an afternoon lying on the soft, plush mattress of his bed as though it was a cloud. One of the large, looming appendages stemming from his back twitched and jerked of its own accord, flinging out and accidentally knocking his water bottle from the desk. Damn it. And he’d been incident free for so long, too—

“Uh, sorry to bother you, Mister, but I have to gi—oh—”

The sound of another voice didn’t register until too late, Taehyung’s eyes going wide as he spun around, more things flying from his desk as they were knocked off in the panic of his movement. There in the doorway stood you, who he thought had safely gone home, with a paper in your hand halfway outstretched to him and your eyes wide and completely fixed on the area just a little behind his head and to his side.

“W—” you stuttered, face paling slightly. He felt himself grow the slightest bit concerned. “Wings…?”

The appendages in question ruffled and fluttered, as though in response, and Taehyung was simply rooted to the spot, at a loss for words.

Wings, you said wings—you could see them?! Oh god, Taehyung felt a new feeling settling in his abdomen, a slight feeling of regret and dread rolled into one. He wasn’t familiar with it, and didn’t like it at all.

This was going to be hard to explain away.

a/n: please let me know what u think and if u enjoyed it, feel free to support me by buying me a ko-fi or rbing to let me know u like it!! have a good day n thanks for reading bubs!! <3

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[angst-fairygodmother]

The Sweet Kiss of Seafoam (A Geralt x Jaskier Little Mermaid AU) Chapter 2

A/N: Here is the second and final part of my entry to @the-winter-witcher 2k follower writing challenge. Really dipping into the meat of things, and all that entails in the spirit of good old Hans Christian. Part one can be found here. Prompt: “I’ve run out of words my song, just let me die, me die” Word Count: 3188 Now cross-posted to AO3: here

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A year later, Jaskier was being pelted with bread.

He had acquired a lute after leaving Lettenhove and taught himself to play, making money travelling about and performing. But the audience did not always receive his songs well, and there had been more than one occasion where he was booed off the stage or out of the room.

As he dodged the projectile rolls, gathering them up to eat later since he had no coin for food, and made comments back at the audience that he at least thought were just as biting, his eyes lit on a single silent stranger in a corner of the room. The man was tall, broad-shouldered, with hair the color of a wave-cap in the moonlight. He seemed to be staring down at the worn table in contemplation, and Jaskier felt drawn to him. Moving, as if hypnotized, he crossed the tavern to speak with the stranger.

The stranger’s deep growl threw Jaskier, not nearly what he had been expecting, a sound like rolling of boulders or the spitting of the deep underwater fissures and spouts that had been one of the great dangers of his childhood home. He found himself cringing internally at his absolutely cheesy lines, but the stranger seemed unfazed.

And then Jaskier realized with a heart-dropping moment of fear that this gorgeous stranger was one of the fabled witchers, monster hunters of the highest caliber. But, he thought, he was in too deep to back down. So instead, he pressed harder, sure that his eagerness would throw the other man off the scent of Jaskier being anything other than a fascinated, danger-seeking, human man.

This decision turned out to be the beginning of something more, something truly special.

The pair developed an unusual but nonetheless unbreakable bond over the following years. Geralt was taciturn on the best of days, preferring to communicate in hums, grunts, and glares. Jaskier did not let this faze him, chattering and charming his way across the continent at his side. His open warmth proved on more than one occasion to be just as lifesaving as Geralt’s swords, when villagers tried to drive off (or worse, kill) the witcher instead of paying him, when they lacked the coin to pay for necessary food or medicine, when on his darkest days Geralt found himself wondering if his miserable life was worth carrying on with. Geralt would never admit it, but the bard’s presence was well worth the extra hassle he created, getting constantly embroiled in dangers both monstrous and amorous.

~

It happened gradually, rather than all at once. One day, Jaskier noticed how the light struck Geralt’s hair and made it shine like diamonds. That night, when he played the small tavern, his voice cracked on a high note that was usually so easy to hit. Another time, noticed Geralt slipping the pouch of coins he had been paid by the alderman to the weary widow of one of the monster’s victims, and later managed to sound completely flat on the beginning of “Fishmonger’s Daughter.” (Luckily, the audience was too drunk to notice, but still his nerves fluttered.) It got worse as time went along too, even when the pair had gone their separate ways for a time. Jaskier’s mind would wander to what Geralt might be up to and his throat would be sore or his voice scratchy and he would have to end a performance early.

The night he had to cancel a performance completely, Geralt had saved his life from a pack of ghouls. The witcher’s hands had gently explored for injuries, a tenderness in his eyes not often seen. Jaskier had basked in the attention selfishly, letting it warm him more than a sunny rock at noon, rather than assure the other man he was fine and have it end. That night, he had opened his mouth to sing, just his warm-up scales before he went on stage, and no sound came out. Wide-eyed he’d tried again and again with different notes, and eventually he managed to sing…something. But by then he was near panicked, much too frazzled to perform. He made his excuses, citing the trauma of nearly dying, and gone to bed early, crying himself to sleep, the salt of his tears a painful reminder of his ocean home.

The following morning, he resolved to share his feelings, deciding it would be better to just get it all over at once, rather than suffer and wait. Besides, he reasoned with a small spark of hope, there was a chance that all this agony was for naught and if he knew, Geralt would return his affections. Dressing in only high-waisted pants and nearly see-through undershirt, bare feet padding gently against the wooden floors of the inn, he wandered down the hall to the witcher’s room and knocked. As soon as his knuckles made contact, his mind began to race with anxieties. What if Geralt was still asleep and got angry for being woken? Or if his affections weren’t returned after all? This was a mistake, he told himself, and he should just go.

As soon as his mind was made up to leave, the door swung open. Geralt stood there, hair disheveled from sleep and, Jaskier realized as he reigned in his racing heart and took in the full sight, clad only in a bedsheet wrapped hastily around his waist.

Jaskier blushed a deep red and stuttered, “Ah…ah…G…G…Geralt! Good morning!”

“Is something wrong?” Geralt’s growl was deeper than usual, sleep roughening his voice.

“Not wrong, per say…I just…was thinking this morning and...”

Geralt raised an eyebrow. And then Jaskier heard it, a soft, feminine sigh from the other side of the door.

“Who is it Geralt?” the voice asked, a sultry murmur, tempting him back into the room, back to bed.

“No one, Yennefer. It’s just Jaskier,” he said, turning to look behind him.

Jaskier’s eyes widened, and his fought the pain welling up like a wound within him.

“Did you need something important bard? Or can it wait?”

Jaskier said nothing, unsure if he even could at this point, and fled back down the hall to his room.

He threw himself onto the bed and sobbed, body shaking which only worsened as silence fell, sudden and complete. He choked, gasping for air as terror replaced the pain, and then, just as quickly, he started to grow cold and the emptiness settled in. He knew this would happen, even as he’d lied to himself in the Sea Witch’s lair that he could avoid it, the deal he’d made his own death-warrant. He just hadn’t expected it to hurt so much.

~

A few days later, Geralt and Jaskier, now joined by Yennefer – who perched like a queen upon Roach’s back as Geralt walked beside and Jaskier fell in step behind – set out, following the rumors of a great monster terrorizing the fishing villages by the shore. The practice of fishing frightened Jaskier, having heard stories about merfolk caught in nets and killed or captured as slaves and curiosities, and his heart still ached, more so at the fact that his constant companion seemed not to notice the change over him, and he trembled with exhaustion, bone-deep.

He considered that this would be the perfect opportunity to slip away, to let his feet, limbs he now hated fiercely, touch the waves and retreat back to his childhood home. But he could not. For all that his heart had been shattered by Geralt’s obvious devotion to Yennefer – which shown in the witcher’s eyes and made them, to Jaskier’s dismay, all the warmer and more beautiful – it still also belonged to the human world and he did not want to abandon it now, feeling more like he belonged there than he ever had in the Kingdom of the Merfolk.

That night, in an inn not far from the sea, Jaskier was restless, awoken in the middle of the night by what sounded like someone whispering his name. Curious and confused, he followed the sound out to the shore, where there was a little wooden rowboat. He climbed aboard and set about rowing, until he reached quite a depth and there, waiting, were two of his brothers and a number of his friends.

“What are you all doing here?” he wanted to ask, crying it with his eyes and hoping they understood. “How ever did you find me?”

“Jaskier! Darling Jaskier!” they cried back, reaching out to throw arms around him. He flinched, fearing that the droplets glistening off of them would be enough to return him to his natural form. “We heard what happened. We’ve come to help you fix it!”

He frowned, brows knitting together in confusion.

“So it’s true then. The Witch has claimed your voice,” his eldest brother, Eckhart, said, voice dark with hate.

Jaskier nodded sadly, gesturing to try and explain that it was his own stupid fault.

“We won’t let her keep it.”

Jaskier shook his head to tell them there was nothing they could do.

“We will go to her, make her a new offer,” his friend Ashe exclaimed.

“Yes, something good enough that she won’t refuse it, in exchange for your voice,” Lars added.

“Come into the water, come with us,” his third-eldest brother, Stefan, offered, holding out a hand. “Come home Jaskier. You have had your adventure, but you are hurting now. Let us take care of you.”

He nodded, reaching out to take the offered hand, swallowing the lump in his throat as he was pulled, almost playfully out of the boat. He submerged in the cold waters, their weight familiar, but as he surfaced again, brushing the sopping locks of hair out of his face, nothing happened. His legs remained separate and his voice remained silenced and he sobbed mutely, pressed into his brothers’ arms as they tried to protect him from the harsh reality.

Suddenly the air rumbled with a malicious cackle and the Sea Witch rose up before them, larger than she had been before but just as lovely and terrible.

“Little Fish,” she mocked. “I must admit, you have doomed yourself far more than I could if I had tried. You have spent so long on land that you are as much a human as you ever were a merman, if not more so.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Ashe snapped, throwing an arm out protectively as she put herself between Jaskier and the Sea Witch.      

“It means that without powerful magic, he will never again return to his ocean home. He cannot regrow his fins or breathe the water and to try will kill him.” She laughed. “Your heart is so broken though that even on land I don’t think you’ll last long.”

His friends and brothers bristled at the implied threat in the Sea Witch’s tone.

“I won’t be the one to kill him,” she sneered. “I gain nothing from doing so. But grief is such a powerful thing, and there is some magic, very old magic, that does what it wishes. Good night Little Fish, and good luck.”

Just as soon as she appeared, the Sea Witch disappeared and the crowd of merfolk (and one former merfolk) stared at one another, even those who could too stunned to speak. Soon, Jaskier began to shiver in the cold of the water, body no longer adapted to bear it, and they all escorted him back to shore, towing the little rowboat with him aboard at their center.

“We will fix this,” his brothers promised, clasping his hands in theirs. “Come to us in three days.” Reluctantly, they dove beneath the waves once more and Jaskier watched them go, heart aching, before he made his way back toward the dry warmth of the inn.

~

The appointed night, the trio was camping further down the coast, and somewhere around midnight, he slipped past Yennefer, who was on guard duty, and down the tall grass hills to the sea. He walked carefully out along a natural jetty, boots slipping and sliding, struggling to find a footing against the algae and seaweed that coated the wet stone. Eventually, he kicked off the offending shoes, bare toes gripping only a little better.

Waiting for him at the end was a little wooden rowboat which he took further into the water and met his brothers and friends who were waiting for him.

“Jaskier!” they cried out when they saw him. “We were worried that we wouldn’t be able to find you.”

“We have an answer for you,” Eckhart added, his eldest brother not wasting any time.

“Two of them technically,” Ashe corrected, leading the two to glare at each other until Jaskier tapped the side of the boat to get their attention back. The pair jumped, looking oddly guilty and Jaskier raised a knowing eyebrow, ignoring the pang he felt at knowing there was much he had missed in the kingdom of the Merfolk while he had been pining after his best friend.

“Right,” Lars said, pointedly ignoring the two. “We were thinking, your voice is special. But if all of us offer the Witch something, maybe she’ll give it back. I’ll give up my hands, or my ability to sculpt whichever she decides to take, and Stefan will give her his swordsmanship, and Ashe will give her—“ Jaskier shook his head, broadly gesturing his refusal. He was furious that they would even consider giving up so much.

“But Jaskier…”

He chopped his hands in the air in front of him, the sharp x a final refusal, eyes narrowed in a glare. He would rather be mute forever than let them all hurt themselves so for him.

“Fine,” Stefan, the other of his brothers to come visit, added with a sigh. “If you will not let us help you, at least take this.”

He held out a dagger to Jaskier. The small knife had a dark handle, glossy black volcanic rock carved into a pattern of scalloped scales. Its narrow blade was straight and sharp, twinkling in the moonlight. Hands shaking and face creased in confusion, Jaskier reached out and took the offered weapon.

“The Witch said that powerful magic could undo your transformation. This dagger is enchanted,” Eckhart explained. “If you slay your beloved with it, and the person he chose over you, and let their hearts’ blood drip onto your legs, they will reform a tail and free you from this torture.”

Jaskier reeled, aghast. Couldn’t they understand that he loved Geralt and didn’t want to hurt him for anything?

“I know he means the world to you,” his brother quickly continued. “But if it is a choice between you and him, choose to save yourself. Please. Don’t make us lose you forever. Not for someone too blind to see how wonderful you are.”

Reluctantly, Jaskier nodded, tucking the dagger into his doublet securely.

~

The following day, Geralt found the creature he had been hunting and, with Yennefer’s help, dispatched it quickly. Extremely grateful, the mayor had given them all rooms in his house, and the whole village put together a celebratory feast and bonfire on the beach. Several villagers broke out fiddles and flutes and Jaskier yearned to join him. But when he tried, his fingers slipped along the strings and he fumbled what should have been an easy performance.

Humiliated and terrified, he prayed that Geralt had not noticed, only to be punched in the gut by the realization that the witcher was so lost in the violet eyes of his lover that he paid absolutely no attention to the music or beach around him. Eyes stinging with unshed tears, he had fled to his room and fallen into a fitful sleep, not waking again until the whole house was still and quiet.

In the dark of night, barefoot, he crept into the room that Geralt and Yennefer shared, shocked to find the door unlocked. The sorceress who’d won his friend’s heart had also made him soft, in so short a time, taming the paranoia and tension that had seemed such a staple of the witcher’s personality. How could he ever have dreamed to compete with that?

Drawing close, he found himself staring down at the sleeping pair in the full moon’s light. They looked peaceful, Yennefer lying on her back, dark hair splayed around her in a halo, one hand twined with Geralt’s and resting on her stomach. Geralt’s face was gentler than he’d ever seen, he looked young like this, in a way Jaskier had never considered it possible for him to be, as he pressed against her side. Their breathing was soft and steady, almost synced with each other.

Jaskier pulled the narrow dagger out of his jacket, watching the light dance on the silver blade. He held it in his hand for a long time. Slowly, he twirled it lightly into the right grip to plunge downward, pausing. Then he kept turning so that it lay in his palm as if poised to plunge into himself instead. He sighed, soft as a breeze, and stepped back. He wouldn’t do this, couldn’t. Geralt had destroyed him, but it hadn’t been meant, and he loved the man too much to punish him for finding happiness.

He set the dagger down on the bedside and, impulsively, leaned in to brush a soft kiss against Geralt’s lips, a small, chaste thing full of all his love and longing. He moved away, and then back again to also press his mouth lightly to Yennefer’s forehead, an apology and forgiveness for what each had done, or would do, to the other without ever knowing it.

Then, he returned to his room, finding the little leather songbook he was constantly scribbling in. Turning to the last page, he wrote a note to the witcher, telling him everything, and placed it on the pillow of the bed he would not sleep in.

Finally, he stole from the manor house. As soon as he passed into the yard, he began to run, marveling briefly at how light he felt now on feet that had once been so awkward and clumsy, flying down to the rocky shore. There, resting in the sand as if it was waiting for him, was a little wooden rowboat. His eyes crinkled with laughter even as tears spilled from them.

He sat down and started to row until he reached a spot in the sea that was clear and deep.

Trembling, Jaskier turned to look back at the house by the shore, now a distant speck of light. Somewhere in that little point, the man he loved, the man he had given his heart to without ever meaning to, slept, wrapped around a woman far more beautiful than even a mer-prince could ever be.

He stood in his little wooden rowboat and waved to them, blowing a kiss to their happiness.

And as the sun peaked over the horizon behind him, Jaskier dove into the water, body dissolving into foam on the wave-caps which glittered in the first rays of morning, the color of his love’s hair.

[kelyon]

Golden Cuffs Chapter 21: The Song

Rumbelle Dark Castle BDSM AU

“To our friend Howard, who gave a mermaid her voice and a beast his soul, we will be forever grateful.”

Or: The one where Belle and Ariel get to know each other and Rumple gets to watch. 

Read more on AO3

“She’s coming,” Rumpelstiltskin nodded out to the ocean. “Did you see the tail?”

As a girl, Belle had read the entry on merfolk in The Encyclopaedia of Magickal Creatures so often that she had it memorized. She knew what signs to look for to identify a mermaid. Sitting on a rocky ledge that jutted out to the open water, Belle squinted to search for a tail the bright green of a spring leaf.

There was a splash in the water and she saw fins--two feet wide and fanned out like the wings of a bird in flight. In her hand, the princess’ voice shrieked and buzzed, the yellow glow brightening more every moment.

Belle had seen wonders in her time with Rumpelstiltskin, but this now was the most magical event she had ever been a part of. “Is that really her? The mermaid princess?”

“That’s our fish,” Rumple said. “Now, I need you to get into the water, but keep close to the rock here.”

Nodding, Belle took a deep breath and jumped feet-first into the ocean. She meant to swim back to the ledge, but as soon as the voice hit the water, a yellow wave of song burst into Belle’s head and took away every other thought. Underwater, she gasped and all her air came out as bubbles in the blue-green sea.

The bubbles rose up but Belle sank down. She was too weak to fight against the song, too weak to swim up to the surface with one hand. Drowning was almost peaceful, she found. It was a quiet end. Under the sea, there was no noise, nothing expect the beauty of the voice.

But just as she felt herself succumbing to the depths, Belle realized that she was also being pulled up. Even as her vision dimmed, it was also lightening. She was getting closer to the surface, to the light of the sun. The cuffs pulled her up to safety and locked her to the rock wall, both hands stretched over her head.

Coughing up seawater, Belle gasped for breath and looked around. She was out of the water, her chest bobbing on the surface. The dress Rumple had made for her floated on the water, the bubbles spreading out like seafoam. She looked up at her arms, still clothed in gauzy white. The cuffs held her up and made her clutch the voice in her hand. Her fingers brushed against the undersides of Rumpelstiltskin’s boots.

“Now stay there,” he ordered sternly. “Don’t let yourself drown, Belle. I should have told you that before I let you go off.”

Belle took a moment to get her breath back before she spoke. “I would have stayed by the rocks if I could have. But the voice--”

“Yes, it has that effect on people, especially when it’s in the water, and when the mermaid herself is so close. A siren’s song has the power to make sailors dash their ships on rocks to get to it. Don’t let the voice get below the water again, Belle. Not before the right moment, not before you get your payment.”

“Payment?” Belle swallowed to get the salty taste out of her mouth. “Why is the mermaid going to pay me and not you?”

Rumpelstiltskin snorted. “Didn’t you listen to the story? The princess is only interested in women.”

“But--” Belle began. But she was interrupted by a red head emerging from the water. Belle gasped. It was her. The mermaid. Right in front of her!

The mermaid’s hair wasn’t red the way the blacksmith back home had a beard the same orange of his forge fires. No, the mermaid’s hair was bright red like a poppy flower or a ripe strawberry--entirely natural, but nothing like a human.

Her eyes were the same way--wider and rounder than any human eyes Belle had ever seen. And they were blue. Belle couldn’t stop herself from thinking they were the color of  the ocean, even though they were clearly brighter and bluer than the dark waters all around them. They should have been happy eyes, Belle could feel it, they should have been filled with laughter and love. But instead the mermaid looked wary, fearful and hungry.

She had round cheeks that should have been cheery. Belle knew the princess should have been smiling and laughing and singing. But instead her pink lips were pressed into a grim, tight line.

“It’s alright,” Belle said to her. The creature fixed her eyes on Belle’s lips as they moved. “You’re going to be better when this is over, I promise. What’s your name?”

It had only just occurred to her to wonder if merfolk had names. The Encyclopaedia hadn’t mentioned it.

“Ariel,” Rumpelstiltskin answered above their heads. “Her name is Ariel.”

The sea princess looked up at Rumpelstiltskin and her expression flashed from wary to fierce. She snarled and lunged out of the water. Her body pressed against Belle as she gripped the rocks. The skin of her torso was rubbery and cold, and Belle saw the transition around her waist where pink skin became bright green scales.

Above Belle’s head, Ariel had found a handhold in the rock. With one hand, she was holding herself up out of the water, and with the other she was trying to pry Belle’s fingers away from the voice.

“I can’t let it go,” Belle called up to her. She felt a twinge of grief that she couldn’t simply give the princess what was rightfully hers, but apparently this was deal they had made. And no one broke a deal with the Dark One. “He says you have to pay me first.”

The mermaid huffed and glared at Rumpelstiltskin. Belle could imagine him smirking back at Ariel.

With a wordless grunt, Ariel pushed herself away from the rocks and slid back into the water with a tiny splash. She came up from the water in front of Belle, her shoulders rising above the surface. They were face to face.

There were no scales on Ariel’s face, nor on her arms or chest. Her breasts were bare and floated on the water like Belle’s. Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but the parts of a breast that were brown on Belle were shades of purple on Ariel.

When the princess looked at Belle, she lost the rage that had filled her. Her eyes became sad again, her jawline softened. Her lips parted.

“Have you ever kissed a girl before?” Belle asked. She knew Ariel hadn’t gotten the chance with her princess, but had there been any others? Any mermaids?

The shrug Ariel gave was no answer, but the kiss she gave Belle was expert, gentle and soft. She tasted like seawater, but her mouth was invitingly warm.

It was strange to be kissed by a mouth that was the size of her own, to know that either one of them could take control of the kiss. Boldy, Belle opened her mouth wider and slipped her tongue into Ariel. When they broke apart, the mermaid smiled and peppered small kisses around Belle’s face.

That poor human princess, Belle thought. She would never know how lovely it was to be kissed by a mermaid. What had happened to the other woman in the story? Had she been married off? Would she ever be kissed by a woman who loved her?

Ariel went down to Belle’s throat. She kissed her neck and shoulders and Belle moaned softly. The mermaid put her mouth underwater to kiss Belle’s breasts. She was able to keep her eyes above the surface and watch Belle’s face. Ariel licked her nipples, the way Rumpelstiltskin did, and Belle’s body jerked with desire. Ariel wrapped her arms around Belle’s waist and began to suck her in earnest. Belle cried and jerked, her legs kicking in the water. Was it possible to orgasm from only this, without anything touching her pleasure spot at all?

Before she could find out, the mermaid was climbing her again. She held onto the rock and positioned her body so that her breasts were directly in front of Belle’s face. She wanted the favor returned.

Belle wished she had her hands free so that she could touch the mermaid, feel her skin, hold her breasts in her palms the way Rumple did to her. As it was, she followed Ariel’s example. She stuck out her tongue and licked the mermaid’s skin.

It was as cold and salty as the sea itself. Smooth, though, almost slippery, with firm muscles underneath. How much muscle must it take to swim everywhere? Ariel had so much strength in her, but she had suffered so much. Belle wanted to give her something. She would make her feel good.

Purple nipples had not been a trick of the light and the water. They were puckered out from the cold. Or was it from desire? It seemed impossible that a creature of such power and beauty could feel desire for Belle--or at least, because of Belle. Ariel was a goddess, the child of a sea-king, and all Belle could do was worship her.

She sucked and licked, moving from one breast to another as each was offered to her. As this went on, Belle felt Ariel moving to her rhythm. The mermaid pushed Belle’s body onto the rock wall and ground her tail against Belle’s torso. Belle moved with the mermaid as much as she could. She kept the pebbly nipples in her mouth no matter what.

Faster and faster, Ariel thrust against Belle, and with every thrust the waves splashed higher and harder against the rocks. Once Belle let go of the nipple to take a breath but took in a mouthful of seawater. She coughed and choked, but the mermaid was too caught up in her pleasure to notice, so Belle went right back to her work. The waves broke against them, again and again, unnaturally furious and frequent. Suddenly the mermaid jerked and spasmed and a great wall of water swallowed the whole world.

When the water receded, Ariel was gone. Belle was still bound to the rock, still had the voice in her hand. She coughed up more salty water and weakly called to Rumpelstiltskin.

“I’m here, brave Belle. You were so good.”

“Where’s Ariel?”

“She’s coming back.”

And so she was. The mermaid floated toward them lazily on her back, with her tail stretched out on the surface. Her eyes were closed and she wore a peaceful smile on her face. Belle knew that contentment. She quaked inside to think that she had caused it in Ariel.

“Hey!” she called out, wiggling to get her attention. “Can you come here? Are you alright?”

The mermaid flipped over and kicked her tail to swim toward them. Her smile broadened as she approached Belle, but turned shy just before she reached out of the water to kiss her again.

Belle tried to drop the voice, but apparently this wasn’t the ‘right moment.’ Her hands stayed clasped, no matter how she willed them to open.

“I don’t know what else we have to do,” she told Ariel.

The mermaid grinned and gave Belle another kiss before diving under the water. It seemed she knew what she had to do, even if Belle didn’t.

“Having fun?” Rumpelstiltskin asked from above her head.

Belle gave a weak chuckle as she caught her breath. “I think so. Are you enjoying watching us?”

“Oh yes. It is an inspiring sight.”

“Really? What are you think--oh!”

Something bumped against her below the water. Something hot and probing between her legs. She looked down and saw Ariel, her iridescent tail stretching out behind her pink torso. Her red hair floated lazily up from Belle’s waist.  In the cool water, Belle felt the movement of  the mermaid’s warm mouth on her secret places.

Oh.

Opening her legs was easy in the water. The mermaid pushed Belle open and pressed her face against her folds. Numbed by the cold, Belle felt teeth against her, but there was no pain. Ariel’s tongue was rough and invasive and perfect. Belle moaned to feel her against her soft skin.

The mermaid teased her and explored her until Belle was worn out just from that. She wasn’t prepared for the tides to turn again. Against the rock, her body moved with the waves, ebbing and flowing in that sweet, familiar rhythm. Up and down she bobbed. In and out Ariel crashed against her pleasure spot. Slowly at first, but then faster. And then faster still.

Belle wasn’t sure when it started, but she was jerking madly. Her legs were wrapped around the mermaid’s head and Ariel didn’t need to breathe so her mouth never stopped. The waves crashed and Belle screamed and her hands opened and the voice dropped into the water.

When she opened her eyes, Ariel was gone again. For all her bright coloration, the mermaid could disappear whenever she wanted to.

Belle leaned her head back against the rocks, flexing her fingers. The cuffs still held her up, but they had allowed her to drop the voice. Her orgasm must have been the ‘right moment.’ It had certainly felt right for her. What had Rumpelstiltskin thought of what he had just seen? She would have to find out what he could be inspired to--

The song filled Belle suddenly. It started in between her legs and worked its way up to her head, down to her toes, out to her fingers. She didn’t even realize it was a song at first. It started as a glow. And not even a visible glow, but a glow of feeling. It was an emotion first--a warm but hungry joy, simultaneously contented and ravenous. Then it was a light--a pure, shining yellow blaze that would blind the unworthy. Then it was a song--the song that Belle had sung earlier, the song of the mermaid’s voice.

The joy the song filled her with was so complete and so powerful that all Belle could do was weep. Her tears streamed down her cheeks, dripping into the salty water of the sea. The song receded little by little until Belle could only hear it with her ears and not feel it with her soul. The mermaid arose from the water, singing.

“Your voice!” Belle whispered. It was bearable to hear the song, now that it was under Ariel’s control. When Belle had held the voice, when she had sung with it, the disembodied song had felt like the soul of music itself was trapped inside a ball. But now they were united, song and singer, and something in the world had been made right.

“Thank you!” Ariel spoke, her eyes sparkling. “Thank you so much! What is your name?”

“I’m Belle,” Belle smiled through her tears. “I’m so happy we could help you!”

Ariel’s smile fell as she looked up to Rumple. “Oh yes,” she said. “I almost forgot this was a two-human operation.”

“More or less human.” He giggled. “And the voice is working properly, Your Highness? Are you satisfied with your experience?”

The mermaid looked back to Belle and her face softened. “More than satisfied.” She glared at him. “Are we done, Dark One?”

“If you’ve finished handling my property.”

“Oh, I could spend a long time handling her!” Ariel gave Belle a kiss on the cheek and whispered in her ear. “Do you want to come with me? Whatever hold he has on you, we can protect you from him. You can live with me under the sea and tell me everything about the human world.”

Belle shook her head. “I can’t break my deal. But thank you.”

Ariel looked her in the eye. “Are you sure?”

Belle nodded. “I’m happy with him. I hope you find someone you can be happy with.”

“They say there’s plenty of birds in the air, but I don’t--” Ariel stopped and turned her head to listen at a sudden noise.

Belle heard it too. It sounded like barking.

The mermaid looked puzzled for a moment, but then her eyes brightened. “I think that’s a dog!” she said. “I’ve never seen a dog before! I-I wanna go find it! Good-bye, Belle!” The mermaid gave her a quick kiss on the lips. “Dark One, I hope our currents never cross again!”

“That’s what they all say!” Rumpelstiltskin waved her off.

With a final splash of her iridescent green tail, Ariel dove into the water and was gone. In the distance, Belle could still hear the barking, and the exasperated shouting of a woman chasing after her dog.

“Did you see where Ariel went?” Belle called up to Rumple.

“She went exactly where you think she went. I should just give her legs now and save everybody a lot of time.”

“Can you pull me up there? I’d like to see this.”

Rumpelstiltskin lay flat on his belly to reach for her. He leaned over the edge of the rocks to grab her hands and pulled her up to him. Belle knew, somehow, that he wasn’t using magic but simply his own supernatural strength. He pulled her up and Belle scrambled to the flat ledge, rolling him on his back in the process.

“Not just yet, my slut. Wait until we get home.”

Belle laughed and slid herself off his body, her limbs a disorganized heap on the rocks. “Where’s Ariel now?”

Rumple helped her stand and held her body upright when she found herself swaying. The ocean hadn’t left her yet.

“Look,” he told her, “down on the beach. See that little cottage? Our princess just made it to the rocks nearby. The dog is barrelling towards her at speed. And an unmarriageable spinster is resolutely following him.”

Belle leaned into his embrace, taking comfort in the warmth and solidness of his body. A woman trudged along the dune grass. She wasn’t old, but she wasn’t young either. She had  plaited dark hair and wore a sensible gray dress. The woman walked with the rigid bearing of a sea captain, of someone who had control of herself no matter what storms she might have to weather. It was a posture Belle rarely saw in women.

“What do you know about that spinster, Rumple?”

“She’s actually an heiress of moderate means. Over the years she had many suitors, but she turned them all away because no man could ever impress her.”

Belle smiled and closed her eyes, rocking on her feet as he held her. “Ariel is not a man.”

“Not in any way.”

“Do you know what will happen to them?”

He pressed her close and inhaled the smell of her hair. “That’s a question that comes at a price, my girl. Would you like to go home and earn it?”

A shiver ran through Belle. “Or we could stay here. You could get into the water, and pleasure me like she did.”

“I’d rather fuck you like myself,” he said darkly, his arm wrapping tightly around her waist. “And I’m not going to fuck you without making you scream, and if the ladies heard that commotion they might think there’s something dreadful nearby and it might frighten them. We don’t want to cast a pall over their first meeting.”

Belle nodded. “How very thoughtful you are, Rumple.” She dug her nails into her palms, thinking of everything he could do to make her scream. “I’m glad Ariel has her voice now. She has a second chance.”

“That’s more than most get.”

Belle looked down at Ariel. Sitting on a rock near the shore, she was quite overwhelmed at the ball of white and gray fur that had jumped into the water to greet her. The heiress was shouting at the dog and apologizing to the stranger she hadn’t seen yet.

“We should give them privacy,” Belle said finally. “But will you promise to bring me back here someday? And take me out more places? This was a wonderful day, Rumple.”

He gave her a soft smile and kissed her forehead. “I like knowing what makes you happy, Belle. It’s very pleasant, to give you what you want.”

She rested her head on his chest and he transported them back home.     

[ecofinisher]

Day 24: Gentle (NathanielxVolpina)

Day 24: Gentle

Ship: Nathaniel Kurtzberg and Miss Vixen (Volpina)

@mlrarepairmonth

A gray stone-made creature was climbing up the Eiffel Tower with one hand, while he had his other hand stretched out with a redheaded teenage boy with a black kippah covering the back part of his hair.

“Ivan please let me go or I’m late for my bar mitzvah. This is very important to me and my grandparents.” The boy pleaded causing the monster to growl.

“I’m Stoneheart!” Shouted the monster scaring Nathaniel. “Your biggest nightmare”

“I don’t know why you’re angry. I thought we both were friends”

“You know why I’m angry, don’t lie to me!”

“I really don’t know it, Ivan! Trust me I’m not lying!”

“Liar!” Yelled Stoneheart shrieking Nathaniel.

“Is it because I found Kagami sung better than Rose?” Asked Nathaniel. “I thought we all had agreed Kagami would do the calmer verses?”

“No!”

“Why are you then angry at me?” Asked Nathaniel, then saw a yo-yo grabbing the fist, where Nathaniel was stuck and both looked at the side to see a heroine in a red tight suit with black dots over her belly zone and her arms, her taille was colored the same dark tint as the circles.

“Lady Red help me!” Yelled Nathaniel, then Stoneheart tried to shake the heroine off by shaking his tied up fist. “Stop it, I’m getting sick”

“Hold on Nathaniel…..We get you out of this”

“Who is we?” Asked Stoneheart looking at the heroine with the short haircut. “Oh your pussycat,” Stoneheart said looking down at the Eiffel Tower seeing Chat Noir jump up with his stab up at his head.

“Good Afternoon The Rock” Greeted Chat Noir with a chuckle, then knocked with the baton on the monster’s head.

“Chat help me!” Cried Nathaniel seeing the hero swing his baton with his hand.

“Hey, my friend, why do you want to hurt him?” Asked the blonde hero. “Aren’t you two like best friends or something?”

“I think it’s my fault, but I don’t know what I did to cause him to get akumatized,” Nathaniel said, then he widened his eyes as he had a quick flashback of him sitting on the stairs reading on his tablet, then Ivan talked to him and got shooed away by a moody redhead.

“I hope your sudden absence is you remembering what happened,” Chat said jumping closer to the hand, that held Nathaniel.

“I remember now,” Nathaniel said followed by Chat Noir lose his balance and fall down with the stick.

“Chat!” Shouted Lady Red and the Cat themed hero extended his stab, which then got stuck between Stoneheart’s foot and the iron of the Eiffel Tower.

“Get off, get off!” Demanded Stoneheart moving his feet, then Chat disappeared into the bars of the Eiffel Tower and watched up the beast looking up at Lady Red.

“Stoneheart listen to me. Drop your friend Nathaniel down, whatever he did to you. He didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, is it right Nathaniel?”

“Yes!” Yelled the scared boy. “I was strained the past two months, because of my bar mitzwa. I’m sorry I yelled at you before at the school”

“Is this difficult for you?” Asked Stoneheart the Jewish boy, that could barely shrug inside the hand of the villain.

“With the band and the school it’s a little too much,” Nathaniel said quietly, due to the strength of the akuma’s hand.

“Stoneheart careful, Nathaniel is barely breathing” The Japanese descendant heroine mentioned shrieking the akuma, which opened the hand to let the boy fall down, then shrieked as Nathaniel slipped out of his hand.

“No!” Shouted Stoneheart holding his hand out trying to catch the boy, but he couldn’t reach his arm far down.

“Heeeeeeelp!” Cried Nathaniel as he was falling to his dead, but before he passed by the big arc of the Eiffel Tower its legs an orange dressed heroine flew under the tower catching the boy and moving up in the air, making the terrified Nathaniel open his eyes and look up at the superheroine, that was carrying him on her arms.

“Miss Vixen!” Nathaniel said turning red as he recognized the woman in the fox-themed super suit.

“Are you alright?” Asked Miss Vixen flying up at the first level of the Eiffel Tower landing on the platform with the boy in her arms. Miss Vixen held the boy nearly in bridal style, while he was clammed with his arms behind her back shivering a bit due to having stood nearer to death than he ever did in his life before. “Everything is fine now Nathaniel” Miss Vixen assured smiling softly at the short boy, that got redder on his face, than his hair pigments.

“T….t….thank you M...Miss Vixen” The boy thanked earning a smile from the heroine, who as well tarnished a little red on her cheeks.

“You’re welcome, pretty boy” Miss Vixen responded with a giggle at the sight of the boy, then they rolled their eyes away from each other in embarrassment and Chat Noir passed by with his staff, then jumped with the help of it at the side of the iron bars of the tower, then changed looks with the brunette heroine.

“Hey foxy, are you coming too?” Asked the black leather dressed blonde earning a nod from the girl.

“I’m coming, don’t worry” Answered the heroine, then looked at Nathaniel down, who got neutral at the heroine having to leave for her job.

“Are you going to the others?” Asked Nathaniel earning a nod from the heroine.

“I have to”

“Okay,” Nathaniel said and Miss Vixen dropped him down on his feet carefully.

“You’re going to be okay?” Asked Miss Vixen passing her thumb through Nathaniel’s bang to see clearer his seafoam green eyes.

“I’m probably just going to be late for my bar mitzvah” Replied Nathaniel. “I also need to get my grandfather’s tallit for me to use it later. He said he would love me to use it”

“Aww you’re a sweetie” Miss Vixen complimented making Nathaniel feel sheepish.

“Yeah….” Nathaniel replied scratching the back of his neck.

“Miraculous Ladybug!” Shouted Lady Red up on the Eiffel Tower, then the healing light passed around the Eiffel Tower and the city to restore everything Stoneheart had damaged including some dents on the iron from the monument.

Lady Red carried herself and Ivan with the yo-yo landing on the same level as Miss Vixen and Nathaniel were, then walked with the tall boy at the redhead.

“You two need to talk with each other” Lady Red said to the two boys, that got embarrassed at the presence of the two heroines.

“I….uhm….I’m sorry, that I yelled at you before when I was practicing my Hebraic for the bar mitzvah. I should not have talked in that tone with you”

“And I’m sorry I overreacted” Apologized Ivan too. “I should have understood, that you have to practice it when you’re going to read it in front of everyone”

Both guys gave each other their hands accepting each other apologies, then Lady Red and Miss Vixen gave each other a high five.

“Girl Power!” Both girls shouted, then Chat Noir appeared walking at them holding his right fist to Miss Vixen earning a fist bump, then he gave another one to Lady Red.

“I would like to stay a bit longer, but I got fencing lessons….you know….so that I can fight better with my staff,” Chat said scratching the back of his head.

“I gotta go too,” Lady Red said looking at the two boys. “I hope your bar mitzvah goes well Nathaniel”

“Thank you” The redheaded boy said observing Lady Red walking away together with Chat Noir, then before Lady Red left with her yo-yo she sent her partner an air kiss and disappeared leaving the blonde gazed at her moving over the buildings, after she was gone he was next leaving the place leaving Miss Vixen back with the two boys.

“You have to go now Nathaniel or you’re late for your bar mitzvah” Ivan mentioned earning a nod from the turquoise eyed boy.

“Yes and first of all I need to get to my grandfather’s house to get the tallit,” Nathaniel said making Miss Vixen smile and extend her hand out to the Jew.

“I still got time, if you want I can bring you to your grandpa and to the synagogue” Suggested the vixen heroine surprising Nathaniel.

“Really?” Asked the boy gazing at the forest green eyes of the heroine. The heroine rolled her eyes down getting flustered by the look she got from the guy. “If you really don’t mind to”

Miss Vixen nodded after Nathaniel had agreed to her company, then she grabbed him, lying him down in her arms, smiling at the boy, which mirrored her back then she took a sprint on the tower’s platform and jumped up in the air flying with the boy in her arms towards the French Metropolis to met Grandfather Kurtzberg.

[afutureinthesky]

The Heart Never Forgets, pt 2

Part 1

The co-ordinates led her to a small cave at the base of a huge rock formation butted up against a cliff. It was obvious that she was meant to go inside. She had nothing with her; she had no idea if she would end up disembodied on the other side or not, and it wasn’t worth wasting any supplies if she would just lose them. Steeling herself, she stepped forward into the darkness. She was barely past the entrance when the floor fell out from beneath her and she fell into the void.

She woke up, aching and stiff, on the ground. Sparse grass and leaves shushed gently as she sat up with a groan. She heard the faint call of birds, as well as even fainter whispering. Opening her eyes, she blinked and looked around.

There was a bit of mist hovering over the ground, and gently glowing lights lingered in the trees. Tears burned her eyes as she took in the familiar sight of Nekton.

She got to her feet, wiping her eyes a bit. She felt a thrumming in her veins that she didn’t recognize, but it was comforting all the same.

“Hello, spirits,” she called softly, glancing around. The whispering around her intensified.

hellohelloGuardianwelcomeheyhihello

“I need to get out of the Shrine,” she continued. “Can you please point me out?”

yesyesyesthiswaythiswaycomegogogo

“Thank you,” June said, smiling gratefully. The whispers seemed to ripple away from her, and she followed them. They led her around pockets of monsters and past dead ends, and soon she could see the end of the path leading out of the forest. They whispered to her again as she went for the way out.

goodluckGuardiangoodluckbesafe

“Thank you, everyone,” she said again. Then she turned and left the forest, emerging into the road leading into Balancoire.

The mist-filled city was just as she remembered it. The cobblestones underfoot felt new, only because she’d never felt them herself, but the atmosphere of the city was the same. It seemed to be around midday, and the streets were bustling with people. It took her a moment to figure out where she wanted to go. She had to find Kalas. She had no idea where to start. She needed to find someone to ask. Melodia might know something. She needed to talk to Melodia. Turning, she headed for the Duke’s Manor.

“Who goes there?” one of the guards asked as she approached.

“I need to speak to Lady Melodia,” she said. “Please.”

“Do you have an appointment with the Lady?” the guard asked. June paused.

“I didn’t think anyone needed an appointment to enter the Manor,” she said carefully.

“Not to enter the Manor, but to see the Duchess,” the guard replied. “The Manor is closed to the public today, anyway.” He looked her over. “I take it you don’t have an appointment.”

“I don’t,” June admitted. “But I need to talk to her.”

The guards looked at one another, and one shrugged.

“I’ll see if the Lady is accepting visitors,” the second one said. He turned and went inside.

“Thank you,” June said with a sigh. She stood there for a few moments, waiting for the other guard to come back. When he did, he gestured for her to follow him inside. She did so, and he led her into the Manor. The inside looked about the same as she remembered. The portrait hanging above the main staircase was not of Duke Calbren; instead, it was of Melodia. June’s eyes widened as she remembered the guard referring to her as the Duchess.

“Things have changed,” she murmured to herself. The guard led her to the main throne room and opened the door for her. As soon as she stepped inside, the door was shut behind her.

“I was told you needed to speak with me,” a familiar, girlish voice said. “It sounded urgent.”

June’s gaze snapped to the woman sitting on the modest throne. The stained-glass dress was gone, replaced with an elegant, deep maroon gown. Her teal hair was longer and pulled back into a simple chignon, and her red eyes were bright and clear. June couldn’t help but react to the sight of Melodia standing there, and one hand went to her mouth as she took a shuddering breath, eyes prickling with tears.

“Yes,” she managed to say around the sudden tightness in her throat. She swallowed and tried to regain control of herself. “Yes, I do.” She took a steadying breath. “My name is June.” She saw Melodia’s eyes widen a bit as the woman made the connection with the name.

“Spirit…?” Melodia asked softly, taking a step forward and raising a hand. June smiled and nodded a bit.

“It’s good to see you again, Melodia,” she said.

“How can this be?” Melodia asked. She took another step forward, and then more, until she was in front of June. She reached out with a trembling hand to touch June’s shoulder.

“It’s a long story,” June said. She was stopped from saying anything else when Melodia threw her arms around her and pulled her into a hug. June returned the hug, wrapping her arms around the duchess. “I’ve missed you,” she murmured.

“I don’t deserve it,” Melodia murmured in response. “Not after everything I did.”

“I still missed you,” June replied. “I’ve missed everyone.”

They embraced for a moment longer, and then Melodia let go.

“Why are you here?” she asked. June took a breath.

“I’m looking for Kalas,” she said. She hesitated. “I had a dream that he’s in trouble, and I need to find him.”

“Kalas?” Melodia asked. She looked thoughtful for a moment. “I haven’t heard from him recently, but word doesn’t come out of Wazn often.” Melodia hesitated. “But something did happen.”

“what happened?” June asked. “Tell me.”

“It’s the Islands,” Melodia said. “They…” She hesitated again. “The Ocean is still down there. And so is the continent with the Children of the Earth. But the Islands are…” She trailed off, but June made the connection.

“We’re back in the Sky?” she asked, hopeful against her will. The Ocean was all well and good, but the Sky was what she had fallen in love with.

“No one knows how,” Melodia said. It was all the confirmation June needed. “It just happened. The Nations are working together to figure it out.”

“The End Magnus?” June suggested. Melodia shook her head.

“We thought the same,” she said. “It was the obvious conclusion. But nobody can find them.”

“Well, they turned into the supports for the Islands when they fell from the Sky, right?” June said, thinking back. “Each one holding up its Island.”

“That’s right,” Melodia confirmed, nodding.

“Are they still down there?” June asked. “In the Ocean.”

Melodia opened her mouth, and then stopped.

“I don’t think anyone thought to check,” she said. “I think we all just assumed that the End Magnus came with the Islands. It was the logical conclusion, after all.”

“I agree,” June said, nodding. “The End Magnus were what kept the Islands in the Sky before. But maybe they’re still down there? Maybe they just… transferred their power, somehow?”

“Perhaps,” Melodia said distantly, clearly thinking about that. “We’ll have to tell Corellia about that at once, get the School of Magic on it. And Wazn, the witches should know this as well.” She started to pace a little, the skirt of her gown flowing gracefully around her. “I can send an envoy to Anuenue, but I’ll have to go to Wazn myself, I have nobody willing to brave the cold.”

“I’ll go with you,” June said immediately. Melodia glanced at her curiously, and then softened.

“Of course,” she said. She smiled a little. “I’m sure Kalas and Xelha will be overjoyed to have you back.” She looked June over. “Are those clothes… all you have?”

June looked a bit embarrassed.

“I wasn’t sure I’d have a body when I got here,” she admitted. “I thought I might come back as a spirit again. I didn’t think I’d need to actually, you know, pack things.”

Melodia looked a bit baffled, and then laughed.

“You really are a match for Kalas, aren’t you?” she said, still smiling. She looked June over again, more critically this time. “You look about my size. I’m sure some of my old things can be altered to fit you while I prepare for the trip.”

“Thank you, Melodia,” June said, relieved. “You’re being so generous.”

“It’s the least I can do for you,” Melodia said, waving a hand. “After everything you did to save us all, it really is the least I can do to repay you.” Melodia gestured for June to follow, and June did so. Melodia led her out of the throne room and down the hall, towards a door at the end. Opening it, Melodia revealed her bedroom. June vaguely remembered the room, and it obviously didn’t belong to a seventeen-year-old girl anymore. The room seemed to have matured as Melodia did, and June found that the change was good.

“Please, sit down,” Melodia said, gesturing towards the chair sitting in front of the vanity. June did so and watched as Melodia went and rummaged through her wardrobe. When she didn’t seem to find anything suitable in the wardrobe, she went to a chest tucked in the corner and opened it.

“Ah,” she murmured, pulling out a few things. She brought the bundle of clothes over to June. “Try these on. If they need alteration, I’ll have my seamstress work on them before we leave.”

“Thank you,” June said, taking the clothes. They turned out to be a pair of seafoam green fleece-lined leggings and a plum-colored, calf-length dress with a full skirt and fitted bodice. The sleeves were long and slim, and the whole dress was made of warm, soft wool. There were also a pair of thickly-knitted, lighter purple socks. A teal coat completed the set, long enough to go halfway down the skirt with a capelet covering the shoulders. The coat had a hood that was lined with white fur, and there seemed to be a matching fur muff with it. A pair of finely-made gloves were tucked into a pocket.

She glanced at Melodia hesitantly, and Melodia seemed to understand her hesitation, because she gestured to an ornate folding screen going across one corner of the room.

“You can change behind there, if it makes you more comfortable,” she said. “While you try those on, I’m sure I have a pair of boots you can borrow.”

June nodded and went behind the screen. It didn’t take her long to figure out how to put the clothes on, and she was surprised to find that they fit her fairly well. The dress was a bit tight through the bodice and sleeves, since she wasn’t as slight as Melodia, but the coat was fitted better and the leggings fit just fine. She came out from behind the screen, and Melodia turned to look her over.

“It looks a bit tight,” she said, turning June this way and that to check the fit. “Nothing my seamstress can’t adjust for you, I’m sure. Wool is forgiving, I’m told.”

“It is,” June replied absently, looking at herself in the mirror. The clothes were unfamiliar in cut, for the most part, but they were flattering and very warm. She had no doubt she’d be alright in the Ice Lands.

“I don’t have spare boots,” Melodia said. “But I’m sure we can find you a pair in town. They won’t be custom, I’m afraid, but needs must.”

“I’m alright with pre-made boots,” June assured her. “Back-- back in my world, custom-fit clothes are rare. Everything is mass-produced and fit to the lowest common denominator.”

“To the…” Melodia looked a bit lost.

“Made to fit the most people possible,” June clarified.

“How strange,” Melodia murmured. She shook her head a bit. “Go ahead and change back into your own things. I’ll send the dress to be altered, and you should go into town and find some boots.” She paused for a moment, thinking. “Do you have any magnus? Or skills to defend yourself?”

“No…” June said uncertainly. “I… don’t know how to use magnus. I’ve only ever shared abilities with Kalas and Xelha.”

“Abilities?” Melodia prompted.

“When I was a spirit,” June replied. “Elemental spells I shared with them.”

“I see,” Melodia replied. She thought for a moment. “I’ll send for some blank magnus, then. Having those spells with us can only help, I’m sure.” June nodded, though she was still uncertain.

A few days later, she found herself on Melodia’s sapphire-colored skyship, dressed in another borrowed outfit that was lighter than the heavy winter gear but still flattering and less conspicuous than her own clothes. She wore her new boots, and there was a trunk in the cargo hold that contained other outfits donated to her by Melodia.

She absently flipped through her six magnus. Each depicted one of her elemental Guardian spells. She continued to fidget with them.

“We’ll arrive in Wazn tomorrow,” Melodia said from her seat. She had a book in her lap and a cup of tea next to her. The tea hardly rippled as the skyship coasted through the Sky. “Are you alright?”

“Nervous, I guess,” June admitted. “It’s been ten years. None of us are who we were.”

“That is true,” Melodia conceded. “But I think you’ll find that they are the same in all the ways that matter.”

“I hope so,” June murmured.