#he still kept that old scarf from that very first week

[cheriladycl01]

Hiiii could you write about Carlos Sainz that he has a secret relationship with an Arab Muslim girl (she doesn't wear hijab) 24 years old, Y/N and Carlos' little sister her friend because they go to the same university from Madrid and Carlos always bothered her, he was always around Y/N whenever she was talking with a boy Carlos made them run away and that's how they became a couple but secretly it was due to Y/N's religion and Carlos likes to annoy her by teasing her face to face or sharing a message by pinching her side because she is ticklish and she also annoys him.

Thanks youu 💖

Romeo to my Juliet - Carlos x Reader

Plot: After studying at the University of Madrid, and making friends with Blanca Sainz you were constantly around her older brother Carlos who was … obviously obsessed with you!

A/N: Ive done research before writing this on Muslim culture and struggles, however I am not a person of colour, and do not want to cause any offence when writing this! Also the wording of this request did confuse me a little bit so I’m hoping I’ve got everything that you’ve wanted in here!

Carlos and you were two people you wouldn’t pin together. You were quiet and reserved whilst he was loud and expressive. You were shy, whilst he was confident. But it was those differences that actually made you the perfect pair.

Being in a secret relationship with the Carlos Sainz wasn’t easy, and neither is the story that came with it.

It started when you first applied to university. You got into the University of Madrid and your parents couldn’t be more happy as your father had work in Spain taken from the Middle East, so it wasn’t a difficult family move.

You were a very stylish girl despite being shy and with your outfits it wasn’t hard to catch the eyes on campus. And that was how you met Blanca Sainz.

It was a colder day in Madrid, around November and you were in one of your favourite winter time outfits that’s kept you warm and cozy, still not completely used to the cold winters Europe have compared to the Middle East.

You had this Burberry scarf on, a gift from you father and a gust of win caught you, immediately your hands grabbed for your skirt leaving your scarf to fly off from around your neck.

“Oh my gosh” you gasp as you tried to reach out for it but it just flew off into the distance. You started to run after it, until you saw it hit a girl and practically strangle her.

“I’m so so so sorry! The wind … and it just … and oh my gosh I’m so sorry, it hit you!” You gasp at the girl who looks over you before laughing.

“It’s … a scarf I’m fine” she giggled.

That day you guys got coffee on campus before getting to know each other and you’d been fast friends since.

It wasn’t until the end of your second year in university, your mum and dad had moved back home to the Middle East. And you didn’t know what to do about summer break.

Blanca actually invited you to her family trip to Mallorca and to stay with her in her family home.

You felt bad, so you suggest the first few weeks are spent in your family home in Dubai. And she definitely didn’t want to turn that down.

So of course you guys spent the summer, tanning, in your pool playing games with your mum and dad when they were free and going to get ice cream.

“Your house is insane, what the hell does your mum and dad do!” She asked looking around the 6 bedroom Villa your family owned.

“I don’t actually know, but he’s a business owner of some sort” you giggle, always too bored to listen to your father explain his career.

“There’s an aquarium in your kitchen island …” she points at it, mouth open wide.

“Yeah, excessive i know but my dad adores his fish”

“And your house it on the beach! AND there’s a pool? I don’t even know if I want to see the garage!” She exclaims.

“Mmmmmm yeah my dads also a car collector. He actually left some in Spain in the house there” you offer.

“Your like so humble though! I - WHAT?” She asks in shock and you just laugh her off.

You guys definitely enjoyed your time in Dubai and your parents loved her, she was invited back for the Christmas holidays too.

Then when you got to Spain you met the rest of her family.

“Mum dad, this is my friend Y/N” Blanca offers as you enter the home which was a beautiful Spanish Villa.

“Ah Y/N we’ve heard so much about you from Blanca when she calls” her mother smiles. Ana comes running down the stairs immediately pulling her sister into a hug.

“Ah you must be Y/N? Yes, you are gorgeous! Where are you from!” She grins pulling you into an unexpected hug.

“I’m from Dubai!” You smile and that night guy guys all get to know one another through board games.

It got to just after sunset when you realised that it was time to pray for Maghrib. You calmly excused yourself from the family. Blanca at this point knew when you had to pray and was always very respectful and actually intrigued at the way it all worked. She would be with you on campus in the pray room, or in a random corner of a cafe you guys were studying in and offer you her coat to kneel on if you didn’t have one.

She was the sweetest and most understanding friend you’d ever had.

However, this was the time you met her older brother Carlos. You were just finishing up, in Blancas bedroom when someone came into the room.

“Sorry Blanca, I didn’t mean to be long if I was!” You smile turning round only to see a confused man behind you.

“Erm sorry can I help you?” You ask and he still stands there with his big brown chocolate eyes just staring at you.

“A-sorry you must be, Y/N right? Blanca’s friend that she brought home?” He questions and you nod standing up, reaching out to shake his hand.

He looks down at it smirking before lifting it up and placing a gentle kiss on the edge making you gasp and go wide eyed.

“Well, welcome to the Sainz household. Are you excited about Mallorca?” He smiles and you nod, of course you were, you’d be waiting all summer for it.

And it was an unforgettable summer.

Carlos was ALWAYS around. He was like this little lost puppy and the only time you don’t think he was around was when you showered or slept. He bothered you the whole summer, interrupting you and Blanca when you were trying to tan, or would splash you in the pool when you were lounging on a lilo. He was a menace, but there was a certain type of endearment to it.

He was also insanely protective over you. Whenever you all would go out to bars or restaurants or clubs, you got a lot of male attention, which to Carlos wasn’t surprising.

You were the most beautiful person he thinks he’s ever seen, and he wants you all for himself.

“Hey Bonita, why don’t you come downtown with me, and I’ll show you a good time?” A random guy from the island had said to you in a club.

“I’m fine thank you, I’m here with friends” you smile pointing behind you to the table where Carlos Blanca and Ana are sat.

“I’m sure they won’t mind, come on. ¡Vive un poco!” He exclaims looking over you.

“She said she was fine, and I would mind” Carlos said in a gruff voice coming to stand behind you and hand on your shoulder.

The guy swiftly left, seeing who it was. You’d gotten used to the fact that Carlos would be noticed in public, you tried to stay out of it as much as possible. Whenever a fan came over you’d practically glue yourself to Blanca’s side.

But all the guys that came talking to you Carlos had them running away for one reason or another. Whether it was just him, being Carlos Sainz, or the look he gave them or what he whispered to them when you couldn’t here. They always left.

That was how Carlos and you ended up together. You were a modern day Romeo and Juliet. You knew your parents wouldn’t approve of the Spanish race car driver, just based on all the tabloid articles about him.

“We should leave” he said in a huff, he was always like this and a lot of the times that you left was because of Carlos’ changed mood.

“But we didn’t get here long ago!” You offer and he huffs again, getting more frustrated.

“Just, let’s just go home!” He says again, not touching you but giving you a look as if to say, I will drag you out of here.

“We need to get Blanca and Ana, we can’t leave them!” You say as you start to look around the club for the two girls, hoping they would protest to Carlos wanting to get you to leave.

“They’ll be fine, let’s just go. They are pretty preoccupied anyway” he nods towards them with their boyfriends and how they are dancing.

Next thing you know Carlos was dragging you home, poking at your side saying how you broke your good girl demeanour just to leave the club with him.

“I was in a club, I can’t be that good of a girl” you tease him back and he looks over at you with a sparkle in his eyes. Maybe it wasn’t even there and it was just from the street lights, but he looked so happy and content in this moment that you couldn’t help but stare.

After this summer, you and Carlos hide your relationship from everyone, you hated hiding it from Blanca the most as he would often come find you in Madrid after race weekends to keep you company.

And don’t even start about him at family venues. Despite Carlos wanting to keep the relationship as secret as you did because of the media, and your parents, he wasn’t very good at keeping his gestures subtle.

“Carlos, I haven’t seen you for a while. And whose this, a girlfriend?” One of his aunts comes over seeing you together chatting at a family reunion his mother had hosted after his race win.

He pinched your side teasingly as if to say that you guys must look good together. And as you look up at his face you can see that.

“No this is Y/N Blanca’s friend from university” he offers keeping up with the secret. And your look down smiling to yourself. It was fun in a way keeping up a little white lie that you were with Carlos.

“Shame, she’s a dime and you two would look great together” she winks before fluttering off elsewhere in the house.

“See someone else who thinks we look great together” Carlos says leaning down to meet your eye level making you blush.

“Carlos leave Y/N alone, you tease the poor girl enough you’ll give her a heart attack one day. Come on sweetie” his mother guides you away, you turn round to catch Carlos’ eye before poking your tongue out in a childish manner.

He shakes his head with a slight chuckles as he watches his mum pull you away to a different crowd of people and introduces you.

When you and Carlos would admit your relationship was unknown, but you knew you’d never been happier than you were with Carlos Sainz Jr.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

[merakiui]

thinking about a concept in which your parent and step-parent are going through a bit of a rough patch in their relationship, so in order to resolve this tension, keep you and skully (mostly) out of it, and hopefully return with a stronger bond, they decide to live in separate spaces for the time being while the idea of divorce is constantly whispered about. you remain in the city with your parent and your step-parent takes skully back to their hometown—that little, misty town in the mountains and trees. the one where all the eerie folklore and stories skully adores comes from. the one with such a small population that you often tell your friends at school it's "that weird cult town."

well, (un)luckily for you, your parents want you to have an amicable relationship with your stepbrother. so when the winter holiday comes around, they make plans to ship you off to that weird cult town so you can spend the next two weeks shacked up in the woods with your step-parent and stepbrother. and skully will get to return to your home come summer break! the whole arrangement feels much too complicated, and at this point you just wish your parents would stop trying so hard and divorce already. :/

but there's no getting out of it, so you pack your bags and are shipped off to the place you've not-so-affectionately dubbed Cult Town.

you've actually never been here before. when your parents first met, it was in the city and so you've only ever known the rush that is city life. but everything is considerably slower here in a comfortable sort of way. there's no hurrying after taxis or packing yourself into a crowded train. it doesn't smell like the city either. also, the internet connection is horrible. you spend your first few minutes in this town trying to get proper reception while you wait to be picked up. it's only two weeks, though. you're certain it will go by quickly.

skully is…still strange. you were never really close when you lived in the same house. he kept to himself just as you did, but right now he’s immensely welcoming. he carries your bags, offers to show you around town, and seems so pleased you've come to visit for the holidays. your step-parent notes he spent an absurd amount of time cleaning up the guest room just for you, but skully just flusters and babbles about how it's only right to treat a dear guest with hospitality. there's even a vase of pretty flowers waiting for you on the bedside table when you enter the tidy room.

you're not very thrilled to be here, but you content yourself with the fact that it's only two weeks. skully has a long list of things he'd like to do with you while you're here. you're not sure what you can possibly do in a town this small other than look at the same trees and meet the same townsfolk over and over, but anything's better than boredom.

you fall asleep in that old, creaky cabin that never seems to settle, and your dreams are filled with macabre imagery. claws scraping at the door in angry, jagged crisscrosses, as if something wishes to get in. frostbitten corpses frozen in permanent poses of agony. a faceless, shapeless monster lurking in shadows. and cold. so much cold. snow. ice. frozen lakes. you even wake cold, shivering even though the blankets are thick and warm. it's too quiet and too dark when you look out your window. no civilization in sight unlike in the city, where there are plenty of people and buildings and traces of humanity.

out here, the people hardly use their phones and it feels so old-fashioned and it's cold.

skully doesn't like it when you talk about divorce. he's still hopeful that your parents will mend their frayed bond and then you can all live under one roof again. :D you can only roll your eyes: "they're basically divorced already. maybe not legally, but definitely physically and emotionally." skully frowns at that, refusing to argue your point further. when you continue onwards down the dirt path, bundled in a woolen coat and wrapped up in a scarf (a gift from skully), you miss the way his expression sours. the way his orange eyes cloud over.

skully tells you they find bodies in the woods all the time. accidents. murders. suicides. "a forest is like an ocean," he says conversationally while the two of you stroll parallel to a dense treeline. "sometimes you happen upon things that just don't belong. things you don't expect to find in the vastness."

that night, you're tossing and turning again. your sleep schedule has been a wreck ever since you came here and you're almost certain this cabin is haunted because you keep feeling sensations that aren't there. like a whisper of breath on your neck or a hand on your cheek. and something's moving around in your room or beneath your bed or just outside the door at night. something from the forest, maybe? a monster? one of the many restless spirits left to wander aimlessly, never to know peace? you bring it up with skully the following morning: "do you ever feel...watched?"

he smiles around a mug of hot chocolate. "of course not. we drive malevolent spirits away every halloween. there's nothing that can bother you here. aah, if only you could have been here during halloween. it's simply wonderful! you must come next year."

somehow you aren't satisfied with this response, but skully's sliding a mug your way and suddenly any thoughts of local haunts disperse from your mind.

supposedly, chamomile tea aids in sleep. hoping to get at least one good night's rest while you're here, you purchase some from the market with skully when you go on a grocery run for your parent. "there's something so beautifully quaint about shopping together!" he notes, perusing a stall of various winter fruits. "it's very intimate. wouldn't you agree?"

"sure, i guess," you reply with a shrug, not quite understanding the point he's trying to make. maybe that's exactly the point: you're never going to understand him and his unusual ideals. "but isn't that why people spend quality time with one another?"

skully beams and plucks a frostbitten flower from a nearby bouquet, tucking the beautiful blossom behind your ear. "we have similar thoughts, you and I."

do we really?

you make yourself a cup of chamomile, bundle up in the warmest sweater you packed, and drink in front of a crackling fire. skully's sat at the kitchen table, scribbling away in a book and humming to himself. you asked him about it before and he told you it was "a catalogue of daily musings. nothing of great importance." you wonder what he writes about in there... probably stuff about how wonderful jack skellington is, a figure revered in this little cult town. you've never heard of him, but he seems interesting from what skully's told you.

miraculously, you drift off in the armchair, and you sleep through the night, enveloped in sweet, sugary warmth. your dreams are pleasant, too. it's the best night's sleep you've ever had.

skully asks if you like it here. his definition of 'like' is very different from yours, but you decide to humor him anyway. "it's a fine town," you say even though just the other day you were trying (and failing) to text your friends about how unsettling this place is. how life here is just so different from the city. you can't explain it, but if you stay here any longer you think they might accuse you of being a witch next with your city slang and fancy technology box (phone). "the atmosphere and the town are both very cute. it's like a little dollhouse when it's all dressed up and festive like this."

"what a flattering description! as expected, you view the world through the eyes of a poet, seeing loveliness in every little thing," he praises, holding his hands over his chest and swooning.

you feel just a little lovelier now that your sleep schedule is fixed, so you're inclined to agree.

usually, the chamomile knocks you out for the entire night. this time, though, you've awoken to a ghost. you crack your eyes open and slowly but surely shake the heavy sleepiness off. something's on top of you, holding you down in bed, their fingers cold and bony like the ones in your nightmares. you shift slightly, and the ghost freezes, still and silent as death. in the shadows, a pair of eyes search for your face.

a mouth at your ear. something stiff prods at your thigh. "shh," the ghost murmurs. "go back to sleep."

somehow you do. you feel warm again, cradled in the fluffiest of dreams. there's an encroaching coldness, though, a frigid draft threatening to creep in. you sleep through it. you'll talk to skully about it tomorrow.

maybe some ghosts aren't banished during halloween.

maybe some ghosts are made of flesh and blood.

[screamingcrows]

I am sadly not immune to all the talk of Veritas Ratio in a modern university setting... (Manu - I hope I can call you that - your posts are so sweet) pair that with the autumn mood and you get this;

tags: pure fluff, they're about to be dating your honor, modern university au

minors do not interact!

Veritas had been puzzled at first, while it wasn't exactly odd for you to be fidgeting with something during lectures, it was usually limited to a specific set of items: your water bottle, some form of pen (he had a spare of your preferred tucked away in his bag for the inevitable bad days where you'd had to leave your dorm in a hurry), or the keychain on your bag.

Whatever this new item to catch your attention was, your hand had practically been glued to the inside of your pocket for two weeks.

Conveniently hidden out of sight, forcing his hand.

He catches you at your usual autumn spot, at least it was last year, a fairly secluded bench sheltered from the elements by four old chestnut trees.

You jerk in surprise when he sits down next to you, and warmth blooms in his chest when you close the book in your hand and lightly smack the top of his head. Still, there's no real power behind it. Only one hand is holding the book after all.

"Your pocket," his gaze is momentarily drawn to a lone magpie rummaging through the first yellow leaves to bed the ground.

"My pocket?"

A sigh leaves his lips as you parrot his words, turning to look upon your face. Veritas thinks his heart might burst at the soft confusion etched into your features, so reminiscent of a delicately carved masterpiece and still containing so much that could never be conveyed through cold stone.

"Yes. You've been fiddling with something in your pocket for a few weeks. At first I assumed it was a loose thread, but it persisted through days regardless of your outfit," cool air caressed his cheeks as he breathed, carefully tuning his voice to your widening eyes, "naturally, I've grown curious as to the nature of that item."

Silence sweeps through the air, enough that Veritas can faintly hear the buzz of people closer to campus. What would normally be comfortable, has him shifting a bit. Too keenly aware of your downcast eyes, his hands find solace in adjusting his scarf.

It feels invasive when you pull your hand out, and he finds that perhaps this knowledge wasn't worth the price. But the words never make it from the tip of his tongue, not before you've opened your hand to reveal a single chestnut.

He blinks, the smooth brown reflecting what warm sunlight pierces the overhanging canopy.

You're already talking again, "-and I've just always grabbed one since that, it's just a silly tradition but I enjoy it and it's harmless and-"

"Would you tell me how, in detail?"

The way your shoulders slumped a little confirmed his theory, you'd been about to rile yourself up with nervous ramblings. Veritas turned towards you, leaning against the bench while you sought out words.

"The first thing you do is to gather the very first chestnut you lay eyes on," what else was there to do but oblige in the face of your expectant pause, "and then you whisper a wish to it."

Again, he obliges, wringing his nose at the faint scent of detritus that already clings to anything picked from the ground.

"Now you just, well you carry it with you, just like you carry a wish. And if the wish comes true, then you take it to a stream and throw it in after thanking it."

"And if it doesn't?"

Veritas notes with satisfaction how smooth the chestnut feels under his skin, and how pleased you look upon catching him shift it between fingers.

"Then you return it to the ground, bury it somewhere, and let it bloom when spring comes."

A charming sentiment, even if you kept waving your hands dismissively. There'd been no deeper meaning behind it, just a parent taking measures to keep little hands occupied.

It was sweet, the memories painting your eyes with colors he couldn't imagine never getting to see again. Time worked differently with you, it always did, and too soon did the evening air chill.

Several hours had passed, time that Veritas should have spent studying, had allocated in his schedule for completing at least two assignments. Yet he couldn't quite find it in himself to mourn.

"Here," he removed his scarf to bundle it around your neck, deft hands adjusting it to let you breathe, "you were shaking, maybe it's time to head inside?"

Something foreign drifted through your eyes and held him captive, leaning forward like this would make it so easy to-

Your lips were just as forgiving as your words, molding perfectly against his even in the brief moment before his mind caught up and he pulled back.

An apology was at the tip of his tongue, cheeks already heating up and mind thrown into a frenzy unrivaled by the most advanced calculations.

All thoughts of your friendship souring turned to dust when he saw you stand, throwing your chestnut as far towards the little lake nearby as you could.

Oh.

With a thundering heart, Veritas pocketed his own chestnut, unable to resist the urge to give it a little pat.

"Wait- you still have yours? Veritas what did you wish for?"

A laugh bubbled from his chest at your expression morphing from bliss to pure petulance, the sound sending flutters through his body, how rarely he could let go.

And always in your presence.

"Veritas! It's not funny, it would've been so romantic!"

He merely hummed, enjoying the fleeting heat of your skin as he brushed a lock of hair behind your ear, "perhaps I wished for something less fleeting."

[openconceptpanicroom]

The Keeper

-Chapter One: A Gift Unwanted-

Prince Aemond x Dragonkeeper!Reader

Summary: Reader is given to The Greens along with an egg before the Dance as a gift to Prince Maelor. Her job is ensure the egg hatches as a "goodwill," present from Princess Rhaenyra. However, the Greens doubt these good intentions and no one is more suspicious than Prince Aemond. Pride, lust, envy and paranoia make the One-Eyed Prince almost beastly.

TW: MDNI, Aemond is very repressed, choking, threats of violence, obsessive love interest, power imbalance. AN: Aemond's POV in next chapter.

The Dragonpit of King’s Landing was a grand system of tunnels and caverns carved into stone. At the heart of the Dragonpit sat the nursery, a circular room with filled with hot coals to warm eggs marked for their future riders. Over each clutch hung wide open vents to funnel out the smoke, though it did little to lessen the heat of this place. It was here that you spent most of your days, drenched in sweat as you changed out coals beneath the egg you had been sworn to protect. A pale green egg promised to the babe Prince Maelor, a kind gift from his estranged aunt. You first felt pride at being the one to hatch and raise this dragon for a Prince to one day ride. Now, you were… cautious. A dragonkeeper acolyte once under the charge of Princess Rhaenyra, you now rested your head so close to those she had fled from. It had not been unknown to you that the Queen and Princess did quarrel. Although, perhaps naively, you had assumed you would be safe from the crossfire of their rivalry.

It was quite irritating to be so wrong. 

Prince Maelor was no more than a week old when Princess Rhaenyra drafted together a ship filled with goods for her youngest nephew. Glittering gemstones, rare silks from Lys, handcrafted toys of fine wood from Pentos, books of varying degrees of academic difficulties, and a dragon egg with a keeper. To the untrained eye, it was selfless. Colder hearts felt differently. The usually fertile she-dragon Dreamfyre had failed to lay a clutch in two years, meanwhile Syrax had just laid one that month. To gift an egg with a dragonkeeper showed Princess Rhaenyra’s arrogance. Her belief that the God’s favored her so much that it was all but guaranteed Syrax’s egg would bring forth a new dragon. Whether or not this was Princess Rhaenyra’s intentions mattered little. You were seen as at best an insult and at worst a spy. 

All that kept you from further interrogation was the knowledge that you would never be in the Red Keep. You were, after all, a dragonkeeper. They were not to enter the palace without reason, and certainly not without guards to take them about the keep. So long as you did as you said you would and kept away from the castle, you were left alone. 

For the most part. 

As you laid red-hot coals over Prince Maelor's egg, you felt that an eye upon your back. It spread chills over your skin despite the blazing heat. You let out a slow breath and laid your shovel to the side, pulling your thick leather gloves from your hands. For weeks now, you resided here with forty other dragonkeepers. None had had issue with your being here. There was no Queen to bother and no Lord Hand to stare at you incredulously. All you did, all day, was care after the egg and assist the other keepers in their chores. Yet He still came to stare at you. To mock you. To disturb you. 

“Iksis se Dārilaros's drōmon issare jūndan tolī, acolyte?”*

You sucked burning air through your teeth, lowering your scarf as you turned to face him. Prince Aemond stood in the entryway of the nursery, the heat already showing in beads of sweat on his face. Thin strands of silvery-white hair stuck to his face, one hanging just over his eyepatch. He was dressed to ride, all in black with one glove on and the other still in his fist. Black were his clothes, like that of a raven. A one-eyed raven. He used to be so quiet, Prince Aemond. For a brief time, you had known him. A freckled and shy boy with eyes of pale violet. Small and awkward, so hopeful that his egg on Dragonstone would hatch. That boy was dead. Replaced by this man that bore his name but not his heart, all memory of you gone. 

Bowing your head, you forced your voice to stay neutral, “Kessa, Ñuha Dārilaros.”*

His jaw clenched almost imperceptibly, either irritated by your response or that you were yet again unbothered by him. Prince Aemond was one so used to insult, that anything without a readily available explanation was assumed to be some manner of slight aimed at him. Your presence was one of these assumed slights, was what an elder had said to you. 

“Māzigon kesīr, zaldrīzes buzdari.”

His voice was ice in your blood, and his words pulled you to him. The blood of Old Valyria was your master. Even when it mocked you. Your feet were slow but not clumsy as you stopped to stand before him. Eyes to the ground even then, as show of respect. Acolyte’s are not to make eye contact with those of the royal family. You swallowed thickly as the tips of Prince Aemond’s boots came into your view. 

“It gives me great vexation every time I look upon you. A mere acolyte, charged with caring for my nephew’s egg. Yet another example of my half-sister’s contempt. The Whore of Dragonstone cannot spare an elder, so she sends you,” Prince Aemond’s tone almost made you roll your eyes. Another accusation of negligence. Gods be merciful if you ever made a true mistake or misstep in his presence. “Prince Maelor will not suffer due to your incompetence.”

Your back ached from changing out the coals over and over. New callouses made their home over old callouses on your palms and fingers. Every inch of you was caked in sweat and soot. From the moment you rose to the moment you laid to sleep, you thought of the egg. His concerns were absurd, truly. Resisting the ever-growing urge to say so, you merely asked, “What more does Your Grace want for me to do to prove I am competent? I am your servant.”

A beat of pure silence passed. 

What was expected was more of his insults, accusations of negligence on your part. You did not prepare yourself for his ungloved hand which then grabbed your jaw. With his bare hand he yanked up your face so that you had no choice but to look at him. He pulled you close, staring down at you with the closest thing to a smile you had seen since meeting him again. Your pulse raced beneath his touch. He smelled of dragon, of bergamot, and coriander. Hair of starlight and one piercing eye of violet. Confronted so close and so suddenly by his fury and his beauty, blessed by the blood of Old Valyria. It felt indecent to be so close to one such as he. To know his palm was now marked by the filth of your labor. 

His hand slipped from your chin to your throat, fingers closing slowly. The coldness of his stare marked by something darker. Lips moving, he murmured something you couldn’t quite catch. It was growing hard to focus. To maintain composure. The sweltering heat, his glare, his fingering stealing your breath with every second. 

At last, you let out a whimper of a moan. Prince Aemond’s voice answering it with an audible groan. It was quick, but you heard it. Just as he released that hungry growl did he release you. You hacked and coughed on air that was too tainted to give you any sort of relief. By the time you could take a breath without wheezing, he was several feet away from you. He gave one last warning before leaving you in the nursery that day, “My nephew’s egg will hatch, or you will feel the consequences of your failure. Do you understand?”

All you can do is bow and say, "I understand, Your Grace."

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

High Valyrian Translations (*)

"Is the prince's egg being looked after, acolyte"

"Yes, my prince"

"Come here, dragon slave"

[sevs-corner]

PART 2 to:

Same PSA(s) hehe✌️

• Before you guys arrived at the place, all of you undressed to civilian clothes and (try to) be lowkey

• Going out of the changing room at the airport, you couldn't help but smile at how the boys still had their signature fits on

• Price, of course, kept his signature beanie on him

• Ghost had a plain black mask on with sunglasses on making him extra edgy, plus the fingerless skeleton gloves which just tells you of his emo phase

• Gaz had his favorite hat on his head and a scarf around his neck (which you soon learn is actually Price's)

• Soap had his signature jacket that he wears around everywhere outside of missions (which you also come to learn is actually Ghost's)

• "Lookin' chic guys!" you complimented with a playful grin, hand on your hip while the other cups your chin and you took in their look up and down

• "why thank you lassie!" Once Soap sees you, he ruffles your hair and gives you a grin of his own. "Lookin' quite a beaut ya'self!"

• "Aw~ stop butterin' me up Soapie!" you quickly put Soap in a noogie position to which he took as a challenge and was about to the same until he catches the look on Price's face

• "we have to get goin'," Price decided, walking towards the direction of two cars

• "did y'all fix the stuff in the cars already?" you asked astonished at how fast they worked to place all the boxes of your things in the cars Laswell provided for you five

• Ghost nods, "wasn't much anyways," as he falls into step with you going to the other car to drive

• "sorry I took too long to help," you pouted and grabbed at Ghost's pinky who just looked down at you with his eyes crinkling

• "its all good pup," Soap chimed in, "you would've held us back anyways." Winking at your huffed out expression, Ghost couldn't help the chuckle at how easy it was for them to tease you

• "am I that big of distraction, huh?" you turn to Ghost for reaffirmation. "I'm not, right?"

• Ghost in turn just shrugs, "you talk too much."

• Leaving you agape in the dust, Soap cackled all the way to the car, quickly hopping in shotgun (knowing how you would always call it and would get you even more pissed)

• "Riley! MacTavish!" you cursed them, "you will rue to the day you called me yapper!!"

• "Corporal!" you feel the hairs on your neck stand on end, "get to the car already- asap!" Price shouted from the car that was already exiting the hangar.

• You huffed, mumbling a 'yes dad' then quickly jogging to the car, only to see a smirking Johnny from your seat.

• So you threw him a glare with a finger before swinging the door open and hopping in with a growl

• "Can't believe you even took shotgun."

• "Well, you took too long yapping pup."

• "… just pass me the aux cord."

• "aye aye~."

• "Don’t play that dogshit asian songs." Ghost silently remarks from the wheel to which you- once again- groaned out

• "number 1- its called 'k-pop'!" you lifted another finger, "and number 2- that's not my vibe right now so I'm playing some songs from the 80s."

• The two at the front had to suppress another round of chuckles to avoid annoying further but your reactions were too cute for them not to capitalize on

• "why the 80s?" Soap asks, already bopping his head to the beat of the first song you played

• "seems that’s the era where you old folks were born at," you sputtered at your snide remark, not able to continue your sentence from how funny you thought it was, and seeing it unfold- made all three of you laugh once more

• Blissfully unaware of whats to come in the coming weeks of living under one roof

• "Alright chaps meeting start NOW!" Price commanded and all of you quickly got into seats at the very bare living room

• Once you saw the mansion of a house at the villa from the address Laswell provided you all, you would think it would at least be furnished or furbished (tomato tomato)

• But no, it was like Soap's garden at your original base- barren.

• Hence the purpose of the current meeting

• "When Laswell said we'd be rebuilding our lives somewhere else- I didn't know she'd meant it literally."

• Hearing your spiteful words, everyone sighs in agreement.

• "She's doing too much."

• "But maybe its purposeful?" Gaz offers in consolation but all he got in return of a response was a glower from you

• "purposeful for my demise- that's what!" Soap agrees in tandem while Price return to the topic at hand

• "Alright, why don't we split responsibilities?"

• You instantly perk up once again, "I call interior designing the place!"

• Everyone looks at you incredulously, until resulting to a laugh once they realized your intention from the way you pulled out your lovely companion and perched 'em on your shoulder.

• "Ghostie has to come with me Price, please?" you begged, Price responding with an equally playful smirk to which Ghost paled at

• "You can handle the hardware stuff in the meantime, yea?"

• Ghost relents and nods while you came skipping in front of him with an excited smile on your face

• "You'll love the food there Ghostie- promise!" you offer Blahaj as a peace offering and he couldn't deny your bubbly self

• "Alright," he grunts whilst smiling, "as long as you pay, kit."

• "Obviously!" you proudly huffed as Ghost ruffles your hair affectionately, while grabbing Blahaj with his other hand

• "Alright, grocery shopping… that's me and-"

• "Me?" Soap ask to his captain but was immediately shut down by Gaz who already had a shopping list in hand, making the former's jaw drop

• "Gaz." Price says so appreciatively in a hum that you swear that you saw some hearts flying out of the cap'n's ears

• "Don't worry cap'n, I got this." Gaz walks up to him and places a hand on his shoulder, pulling him into a whisper making you raise a brow with a pursed lip

• Seeing them do that made you do the same with Simon, who you had to climb to get even close to ear

• "..he has to be so down bad for him right?"

• Alas, whispering is not in your vocabulary.

• Making Soap cackle so hard while the others (including Ghost who had to support you by placing an under your ass to carry you as his side)

• "What do you mean by that..?" Gaz asks exasperatedly.

• You looked at him aghast, "means you're so deeply in love with cap that my theory was you're gonna fuck him later."

• Simon sputters, cracking your bravado façade as a detective but makes the other two groan

• "Sweetie…you're not letting us live this down, huh?"

• "Nope. Bye~!"

• "Hey! Wait what am I gonna do???"

• "Watch the house!"

• "WHAT AM I TO YOU FECKS? A GUARD DOG?"

• "yes."

• A unison surrounding agreement makes Soap fall to his knees, weeping while the two of you left.

• Price ultimately deciding to go with Gaz anyways for… reasons.

[letmeapologise]

Vacation with erling in norway and going to watch his old club molde play and him getting all nostalgic?

❝ 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰 𝐦𝐞 ❞

.ೃ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ! 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐟 𝐠𝐨 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐛 𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞 ✰ ´ˎ˗

⋆ ｡ ˚ ⋆ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ⌇ 𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫. 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐚 ੈ✩‧₊˚

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⌇ 𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚

ೄྀ࿐ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ⌇ 𝟐.𝟎𝐤 !

↳ 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ೃ⁀➷ 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 ! 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞. 𝐢 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐲𝐬 "𝐡𝐞𝐲𝐲. 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐲𝐞𝐭 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐧𝐭? 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 <𝟑😭 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞" 𝐧 𝐢'𝐦 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐢 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐚𝐛𝐭 𝐢𝐭. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐨𝐤𝐚𝐲 𝐰 𝐮? 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐫'𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐨𝐧 𝐧 𝐢'𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬. 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧 𝐢 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐮 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞 ! 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐬 !

“ARE YOU READY?” you asked your boyfriend, lounging around in the pool with a cocktail in hand. He raised his sunglasses onto his forehead, giving you a sly grin. “Give me ten more minutes,” you rolled your eyes at him, his ability to wait until the last minute to do things and then actually do it infuriated you, whenever you did so you were late due to preparing yourself for hours in advance.

“You still need to dry off, Erl,” he glared at you as if thinking over the truth behind your words, then practically leaped off the inflatable bed he was on.

You turned your back to him on instinct, the water only splashing a few droplets onto your jeans, you were wearing his old Molde shirt – fitting, really – that you had conveniently found the week prior in an old laundry hamper, it wasn’t in much use now that he had transferred to three other clubs, but you still kept it around – for sentimental value – you insisted, he just turned his nose up about it.

Yet here he was, leaping at the opportunity to see his old club play, well – not exactly – he was still in the process of trying to lift himself out of the pool and flopping himself on the side. It wasn’t a very long drive to Erling’s first stadium, the Aker Stadion, and was beautifully situated by the sea that made for some very scenic pictures that you forced him to take of you and him both.

Then you made your way into the stadium, relatively empty, and surprisingly – not surprisingly if you had originally thought about it – were introduced to by the club’s president and other senior high ranking officials for Molde; likely wanting to see their golden boy who flew off from the nest. 

Erling shook their hands politely then returned his hand to the small of your back and guiding you to the seats in which you would be sitting. Eventually the stadium began to get more crowded, people flowing through the entrance to the far right of your seats, some waving over and jeering at Haaland; one being motivated enough to walk through a good few dozen people just to reach your reserved seats.

Erling laughed, waving him off as he came to him but nonetheless he persisted and your boyfriend signed the front of his shirt and a Manchester City scarf conveniently brought to the game.

You raised your eyebrows at it, scrunching your nose in confusion, but Erling simply nudged you. “He’s been supporting the club for ages, no doubt he would have recognised me,” you scoffed, laughing. The stadium now getting a bit rowdier, waves of blue and black as people flocked in to find their seats, then the chants started. “Haaland, Haaland!” and his ears practically prickled up at it, looking around while grinning.

Most fans had picked up on the fact he was here, but those who actually saw him were now pointing jokingly at him as they chanted, scarves of different colours being pinned to the air as they did so.

The atmosphere wasn’t electrifying, you found resemblances to the Premier League in which you found the best so far, Haaland still insisted the Bundesliga was the best. But you couldn’t miss the way his eyes gleamed upon watching the players walk out for the pre-match warmup and you were sure he was about to sprint onto the pitch and grab a shirt for himself to play for his childhood team.

His eyes, if you looked closely in a split second — as if it was a rare phenomenon, a shooting star streaking through the sky once in a million years — sparkled with anticipation, and for a split second you saw him playing for this club, before you. It was as if you were competing in your head for his love, you or his first passion for the game, without this club he wouldn’t be the person you love today.

Even if he never admitted it, you knew he loved this club with his dying breath, he looked like he was warming up in his head along with the other players. You doubted he recognised any of the current players, too far from his time, maybe you were wrong. Maybe he kept himself updated on them, checking fixtures. He definitely did. You knew by the way his eyes were fixated on the pitch, eyes targeting in on the ball.

You smiled at his side profile, giggling softly to yourself and then resting your head on his shoulder. He looked down, kissing you quickly on the forehead and patting over your hair softly, then glanced back over at the game. You knew his love for this club outweighed you, you were okay with it, it wasn’t a jealous thing. It was just like seeing a glimpse into his past, like looking at baby pictures of each other knowing you had no idea about the other at the time.

Yet here you are, you feel like you’ve known him your whole life and are destined to be with him. Maybe that’s what he felt like with Molde. Did he want to leave? Or did he have to in order to succeed?

If anything he looked at them like they were the best on earth, and now you simply had to agree with him, anything he looked at this way was worth your time and attention, anything he loved you loved. Half-time swung round quickly and he turned to look at you with a completely neutral expression, his starry eyes still remaining though.

“Good game so far?” you chirped, he nodded. “I thought so.” It was going well for Molde, being one nil up against Rosenborg, Erling sipped peacefully on his drink, no longer glued to the pitch laid out in front of him. Then an idea popped into your head. You excused yourself from your boyfriend momentarily, him clinging onto your leg and insisting he come with you when you claimed you were going to the toilet — a lie, obviously — and you shook your head at him.

“Am I not an independent woman?” he rolled his eyes at you. “That’s the problem,” he mumbled, letting go of you and resting his arms by his side, facing forward away from you as if in a toddler tantrum. You grinned to yourself, heading towards the area where you were stopped by the club’s president, finding him quickly — only hoping your boyfriend had fallen for your lie and wasn’t scouring the area for you, seeing as his box was near your seats — and giving him a small wave.

He beckoned you over with a polite smile, recognising you immediately. “Hello?” he asked, as if to say — what do you want? 

You smiled at him courteously, returning the favour, before coughing and preparing your question. “Would it be alright if Erling met some of the players after the match?” you inquired anxiously in Norwegian, relying on his kindness to surprise Erling.

He looked at you momentarily, eventually cracking a smile and chuckling to himself, an individual next to him who you assumed was his friend joining in with him. You gave him a lighthearted smile in return, and he simply nodded. “I’ll sort it out to have someone come to your seats,” he nodded, his eyes wrinkling up as he spoke. “Thank you very much,” you grinned, bowing your head slightly down as a polite goodbye gesture and walking back towards your seats.

“Why’d you go that way?” Erling asked, scrunching his nose up. “The toilets are that way,” he pointed in the opposite direction and you scoffed, shrugging at him as you took your seat next to him as he tucked his legs in to allow you to pass through.

“I don’t know where I’m going,” you admitted. “You left here basically as we started dating so I’ve only been here once or twice,” it was a half-truth, if anything a very well put together lie on your behalf, and yet he wasn’t fooled.

“You’re not a good liar,” he said, facing his head straight on as the players started coming out again for the second half. You glared at him, smirking as he presumably saw you through the corner of his eye, despite barely paying any attention to you due to the game.

“It’s a surprise, so shut up.” You pushed him lightly and he laughed, grinning at you before becoming addicted to the pitch in front of him once more. The second half went by smoothly, and upon the ref blowing the whistle fans roared, the result being three nil to your boyfriend’s first club, Molde.

He had a smile up to his ears and practically hopped up with excitement, allowing you past him and taking your hand in his, turning to the exit, you pulled him towards you. “My surprise,” you nudged, sitting back down. He frowned at you, furrowing his brows and half-collapsing onto the plastic chair in impatience.

“It’ll be worth it,” you nodded, watching as people flocked past you, Erling half-buried his face in your shoulder to hide from people in case they asked for autographs and so on and so forth, but he couldn’t hide his height or stature. 

If anyone just saw his shadow, not his face, they would know it’s him. Who else puts their hair up in a blonde ponytail like that?

Two or three people tapped him on the shoulder, two of which being teenagers or young adults and the other a middle aged man, you were surprised the fan from earlier didn’t come along to say goodbye. Of course, upon Erling looking up and signing various objects, more people realised he was there and gathered around him; he was about done with the thirtieth person or around that mark, making it impossible to leave your seats, and you were beginning to think maybe your surprise was a bad idea.

What if the president forgot? What did he mean by someone ‘coming to your seats’? Did he mean the next match? 

You grumbled profanities under your breath, watching as your boyfriend turned away from you to sign things and take photos with fans. He was finally finishing up, returning to sit back down and asking you when your ‘surprise’ was meant to happen, when someone else tapped on his shoulder. You had just shrugged in response, but when you looked up to see who it was you grinned. Erling was still looking down, waving a hand to the person behind him in assumption that it was another fan wanting to meet him.

“Not now, sorry,” he politely chuckled, still not looking up.

He obviously didn’t hear the sound of them walking away, so he looked up and turned around, mouth open to make another excuse. “Sorry, I’ve just–” his jaw slacked open in place, his old teammate Aursnes. He stood up and grabbed him, pulling him in for quite possibly the tightest hug you’ve ever seen in your life. He broke off of the hug, twisting his head back at you.

“Is this the surprise?” you scoffed, nodding at him with a grin plastered on your face at his reaction. He hummed in satisfaction, eyes darting back to his friend.

“How’ve you been?” he asked in Norwegian, catching up with Aursnes. He nodded back, slapping his back. “Good, you?” he inquired, staring at him thoughtfully. “Seen you’ve been doing well at Manchester City,” your ears perked up at the English word, grinning slyly to yourself. “Yeah,” he hummed, thinking out-loud. “It’s been good, the Premier League is very different to here.”

Aursnes laughed, stuffing his hands in his short pockets. “Guess it helps to be six four,” he chuckled, Erling just nodded until he started leading him off down towards the pitch.

He looked back at you, tilting his head with a smile as you watched him traverse down the tunnel of his childhood club, and you made a mental note to book another trip back here very soon – if Man. C. would allow it, if they saw what you saw they’d think he was one step away from transferring back.

୨୧ @𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐬𝐞. 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞, 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭, 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 ୨୧

[vladr2566]

It's finally here well part one of the fic!! This is my first fiction so please go easy on me lol and ik this first part is short pleas bare with me my computer had bugged out and I lost all the parts so I'm starting back at square one

⚠️⚠️⚠️CW WARNING: SMUT GORE STRONG LANGUAGE AGE GAP Mention OF ABUSE AND ASSULT DEATH MENTION OF SA AND CANNIBALISM CULTS AND HEAVY TOPICS OF RELIGIOUS ABUSE! AND UNPROTECTED SEX (mostly in later parts) YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED Reader is 23 and slayer is at least 500 years old(basied on what i googled and the events of eternal)⚠️⚠️⚠️

Fem!reader x doom slayer

Hell's little rabbit part 1

Hell's little Rabbit

Part 1

You don't know how or when it happened but the cult of God had gotten their hands on you, they found you interesting, your rabbit ears, your rabbit tail, your rabbit feet. They never saw a human rabbit hybrid, well a hybrid in general. They kept you locked up in a dark damp cell in the abandoned jail they called home on this demon infested earth. They worshiped God who had abandoned them long ago, before the demons attacked.

Their leader, Peter, would take care of you. He would visit daily and give you food and water and in return you had to give yourself to him or he would beat you till you complied. He would preach on how yiu were special and was ment to dave them. You hated him, wanted him dead even but last time you tried to kill Peter he had broken your arm. His wives didn't like you because you were his favorite, they called you freak and whore, other times they would sneak in and beat you.

Today was a special day, the day of sacrifice, and you were the chosen one. You were kept alive for 13 years just for this, to be sacrifice to the demons so the cult could be blessed by the God they believed in. It was rainy today the first rain in years. Peter ties your arms on a cross and kissed you on last time, you grimace and spat in his face which earned yiu a harsh slap across the face.

He turns to his people and spoke, "Childern of God! Today we gather here today to feed the beast that plague us, and our way of living! Let us bow our heads in prayer and let us pray to our lord and savor Jesus Christian , and the one almighty God!"

They lowered their head as Peter leads them in prayer, "OH heavenly father who art tho in heaven! Please let this sacrifice keep the demon at bay for another 13 years, thank you for letting us find this girl when we did! She was 10 years old and lost, she was just a child when we took her in and now she is a woman! Still pure because she served me, her husband, very well! May her sacrifice keep us safe and my her soul join you in heaven! I know she is different from the others but may her rabbit genetics satisfy the demons! Amen!"

"Amen!" The others said in unison. The days passed as Peter and the other higher ups for the cult watch and waited for the demons. You were weak and exhausted, barely hanging on. The heat and the weather doing its toll on your body.

It's now been a week and nothing, it was scary quite. Then there was screams, you couldn't care you was ready to die. After an hour or so the screaming stops, you heard heavy footsteps approach but was too weak to lift your head. You felt a strong hand lift your head and you see a man or thing in green armor. He cut your hands free and you fell into his arms, that's all you remembered before passing out.

You woke up in a bed, how long has it been? Hours? Days? Weeks? You weren't sure but you sure knew you were hungry, you looked around the room you were now in. It confused and scared you, you had no clue where you was but something caught your eye. You get up and hobbled over to the small table in the corner and grabbed the sandwich that was left, your hunger overpowered your thoughts and you scarfed down the small meal.

You then looked at yourself in the mirror and saw you were bandaged up and somewhat clean. Your ears perked up as you heard footsteps and walked in a robot? You grabbed the plate from the table and get ready to throw it.

"Who are you and where am i?!" You demanded

"Hello, I am Vega the on board AI. The slayer brought you in after he had found you on earth. How are you feeling miss, need anything?" He asked

You shake your head no and slightly relaxed.

"No thank you..."

"If you need anything let me know miss, this room has a bathroom so if you want you can shower." And with that Vega left. You made your way to the bathroom and saw some clean clothes, fresh bandages, and some soaps as well as shampoo and conditioner.

You smiled and took the first shower you had in years, you washed off the dirt and old blood and then spent a lot of time on washing your matted hair. One your done you get out and then cut your hair short so it's easier to manage.

You could hear the same heavy footsteps out In the hall so you got dressed and left the room. You peaked out and saw the large man in green armor your savoir. You quietly followed him but he disappeared into his room. You wanted to thank him but how?

[ask-missparker]

I Remember It All Too Well..

SpiderMan Far From Home

Setting: Phase 3– Post Endgame

Continuing this post

~

Pairing: Quinten Beck x Amelia M. Parker

~~~

Take a break she says, it’ll be fun she says..

Nothing on the schedule said anything about being dragged into SHIELD work, taking care of a bunch of teenagers and seeing in person you haven’t talked to in years…

It was late at night.

Most of the students and teachers were at the hotel probably asleep, and here stood Amelia taking a walk, scouting the sights for the trip. As well as snapping pictures for Fury.

She wasn’t even technically working for Fury anymore and yet, she was still be given orders by her old boss. Hill wasn’t even far behind.

And what made it worse than Fury’s orders, was the man that was supposedly working with them on this new project.

Beck.

She swear that moment she heard his name and saw his face, she froze. His hair was longer than she thought, his built was carved out within a green silk suit, and the polished attuned ways of talking to them.

Every word he uttered could’ve easily been a lie.

But then again, she wasn’t seen him in years. Hell, they didn’t really know too much about one another, as their relationship only lasted a few short months.

She wish she could just—

“Didn’t expect to see you here at this timely hour?”

She whipped her head around to notice him floating down from the steps and catching up to her feet quickly enough. He took that moment to study her features, her hair was darker, her facial expression were more angular than her softer appearance years before, and her eyes still spoke the same tone of the day they first held hands.

Beck couldn’t resist the sudden thought of the moment he stupidly broke her heart. He broke up with the girl over a text message and kept her scarf from the very first week, as it seemed like innocence, but smelled like her.

Everything felt like a blur now.

Each bad moment seemed like a thousand words different from the good.

Blurry lines and blurry images came into play as he watched her eyes scan his very own.

“Is this the part where you tell me that you were wrong and I was right? That you shouldn’t have stood there clueless when I walked in.” Amelia responded ever so softly and shrugged.

He sighed as a small scoff came under his lips, “I had no clue you were coming here. I didn’t even want you to get in involved with any of this.”

“A little too late…”

“Yeah, right, I didn’t want anyone in there to suspect that we had something going on beforehand. So I had to act stupid, sorry.”

“Alright. I guess that’s fair…you look, good.”

“I feel good…you um, you look like you haven’t aged a day. Still the same pretty face I met all those years ago.”

She scoffed as a light smile brushed against her face, “Flattery will get you nowhere, Beck.”

“Eh, had to try to make up for earlier.” He replied, smiling, as he declared that he’ll follow beside on this walk.

“…you don’t have to walk with me. I can handle myself.”

“I know. But I want to. I want to…apologize for everything.”

“Hmm how so?”

“I wasn’t sure what I had until I lost you twice..I wished that I was good enough to realize it.”

“Tell me more, tell me something I don’t know…”

“I was upset, confused and frustrated…I wasn’t appreciative of you, how you treated me so well…”

“We both had issues..I’m sorry if I offended you any further than I did, especially when we fought..”

“And I forgive you for it.”

The two smiled and nodded.

“You remember how much you would waste my time?” He said softly chuckled.

She looked at him lightly chuckling, “We wasted it right. I would take you out for coffee and you would cuddle with me at the cafe.”

“Then I would take us to my place for computer sessions, securing models for my new ideas…and I would’ve ordered us some burgers…I miss those days..I wished I told you that before..”

“Then time went on, we got busy, we would fight..I thought…I just wished you cared a little more, where you could stayed longer...I got tired waiting for us to move forward or do something else..”

“But you liked it…coming over to my place when nobody was home, find me coding or working on a new invention..we would just stay a while on the floor working…”

“Yeah..”

“You know, I did want us to eventually move forward, do something bigger…I wanted to buy us a bigger space..i had a gift for you too..”

That struck a chord with Amelia.

“A gift?” She asked, looking over her shoulder at his tall frame.

He half smiled, “I had a bracelet...I was planning on giving to you some time that summer..but I broke it off..”

“Why did you?”

“Hm?”

“Why did you break off with me? Over text? I tried calling but you never answered.”

“I just wasn’t in the right place at the time…work was hard, we were both very busy…I just wasn’t thinking straight.”

“And you weren’t even honest enough to tell me more about you..”

“The being from another earth thing..yeah, I was gonna tell you soon. But it never came up.”

“Which I don’t believe is fully true and neither is the power thing. But I will go along with whatever it is that you’re saying.”

The two just looked at each other, staring into one another’s eyes as if searching for answers…

—

———

Ahh that’s all folks! Let me know what you think 💭

TAGS: @blueboirick @rickb-chaos @missstrawbs2001 @purpleprincessonfyre @ask-starrk @meiramel @gcthvile @cherrysft @wizzzardofoz @luna-d-marsh

[separatedleoau]

I know that Draxum is an asshole here, BUT please tell me a couple of cute moments between him and Leo?

The thing about Draxum in this AU is that he IS an asshole, he is very strict and when it comes to raising One he had spent 13 years dancing over the line of abusive parent

He will deny being One's parent (One would deny being his child too), so he might not be his dad legally or emotionally but he is his dad like... spiritually, I guess.

You don't get to raise a child, being his caretaker and his boss without accidentally filling the spot of "father figure"

I want to do a little doodle sheet of just Draxum raising One, but I haven't got the time so here are some of the scenarios I want to draw plus other things I have thought about but are not gonna be able to fit in the story in an organic way:

One learned to call Draxum "boss" bc he heard Huggin and Munnin calling him boss

At first he could just say "bo"

One has been a very talkative child since the beginning, and a very curious one, he would keep pointing at things and making noises until Draxum told him what that thing was.

He had a very long "why" phase that drove Draxum mad

Since he could walk he turned into a menace, it was easy to confine him into one place when he couldn't, but then he would just walk around and start climbing whatever he saw. Draxum lost him many times around the lab

Sometimes Draxum would be working or just chilling and he would hear a thud on the distance and sigh deeply, knowing One was climbing something and fell

One always had at least one bandaid on him because of this

He was going to tell him his human DNA came from Lou Jitsu but decided to first show him an old recording of Lou fighting on the Nexus arena so One could know what Draxum expected from him

One quickly became obssesed with Lou and Draxum decided against telling him the whole truth, thinking he would just become more annoyingly obsessed with the human if he did

Some days latter Draxum found One was still watching the video on loop, turns out the kid was memorizing the moves, he shows Draxum and fails to nail a very simple kick, Draxum doesn't give him any pointers of how to fix his form, just curious to see how far he can go without help

A week latter One surprises Draxum with the fact that he alreay learnt how to do it on his own. He is very impressed with the boy and agrees to his pleas of leting him learn martial arts

Draxum signs him in to a dojo on the hidden city. He doesn't last too long and gets kicked out for "being too agressive"

Draxum doesn't show it but thinks that's hilarious

After being kicked out of other two dojos he decides to train him himself while he grows a little older and he can sign him into a dojo for grown ups.

As a kid One insisted in being though how to manipulate vines like Draxum, he doesn't think the kid can learn to do it but teaches him just so One stops insisting.

It takes him a long while but he learns to do it. Draxum seems genuinly happy while teaching him.

He also enjoys his weekly sparing matches with One.

Draxum gave him his scarf as a gift

One's old uniform was almost completely black, just with some golden details to match him, One kept insisting he should be wearing blue since it is his favorite color. when he outgrown it and Draxum send to make a new one he gave in and let him had his blue accents.

[arale2126]

They remember it all too well

And I know it's long gone and that magic's not here no more And I might be okay but I'm not fine at all

[...]

You told me 'bout your past thinking your future was me

[...]

"Any time now He's gonna say it's love," you never called it what it was

[...]

And I know it's long gone and there was nothing else I could do And I forget about you long enough to forget why I needed to

[...]

And there we are again when nobody had to know You kept me like a secret, but I kept you like an oath Sacred prayer and we'd swear To remember it all too well, yeah

[...]

And maybe we got lost in translation Maybe I asked for too much But maybe this thing was a masterpiece 'til you tore it all up Running scared, I was there I remember it all too well

[...]

They say all's well that ends well, but I'm in a new hell Every time you double-cross my mind

[...]

Time won't fly, it's like I'm paralyzed by it I'd like to be my old self again But I'm still trying to find it

[...]

But you keep my old scarf from that very first week 'Cause it reminds you of innocence And it smells like me You can't get rid of it 'Cause you remember it all too well, yeah

[...]

'Cause there we are again when I loved you so Back before you lost the one real thing you've ever known It was rare, I was there, I remember it all too well

[...]

And did the twin flame bruise paint you blue? Just between us, did the love affair maim you too?

[...]

Just between us, did the love affair maim you all too well? Just between us, do you remember it all too well? Just between us, I remember it (Just between us) all too well Wind in my hair, I was there, I was there (I was there) Down the stairs, I was there, I was there Sacred prayer, I was there, I was there It was rare, you remember it all too well Wind in my hair, I was there, I was there (Oh) Down the stairs, I was there, I was there (I was there) Sacred prayer, I was there, I was there It was rare, you remember it (All too well) Wind in my hair, I was there, I was there Down the stairs, I was there, I was there Sacred prayer, I was there, I was there It was rare, you remember it Wind in my hair, I was there, I was there Down the stairs, I was there, I was there Sacred prayer, I was there, I was there It was rare, you remember it

[kunikidas-lost-glasses]

Sigchuuzai headcanon - Sigma having scars on his neck

TWs: Major Spoilers for Sigma’s backstory, mentions of slavery, description of injuries

Takes place in my BSD Fix-It AU (post-DoA arc). Sigma is a member of the ADA here and lives together with Chuuya and Dazai in an apartment. 

The main reason why Sigma wears turtleneck sweaters is so he can hide the scars which go all around his throat. 

The scars are from the time where he was kept as a slave at the organization which captured him in the desert and who used him for his ability. Back then was always wearing a heavy and tight shackle/metal collar around his neck which left his skin bruised and scarred. 

When Fyodor told Nikolai to get rid of it after Fyodor took Sigma into the Decay of Angels, the skin underneath the metal had been irritated, red and bloody and there where the edges of the collar had been, the skin was bruised and had little cuts due to the metal being uneven and with sharp edges. 

While the irritations and the bruises would disappear slowly after weeks, the cuts and bloody areas became scars. 

They are very faint and one would probably only see them if they focused explicitly on his neck but for them, they will always point out. Whenever they wear something which isn’t covering their throat, they will feel as if the scars would be the first thing everyone would see when looking at them. Like they would be some colorful sign used for advertisement which blinks with obnoxiously bright lights. 

Even after he exchanged his old outfit for a new one after he joined the ADA, he kept wearing a turtleneck sweater.

Of course, Dazai noticed that no matter which outfit Sigma would wear, his throat would be covered with something. A turtleneck sweater, a scarf, even in summer Sigma would find ways to cover his neck in a stylish way. 

He would never ask about it though, not wanting to make his partner uncomfortable or make them feel pressured to tell him. If Sigma wanted to tell him, he would be there but Sigma should come to him out of his own will, when he felt ready and comfortable. 

Chuuya did the same. He too wouldn’t confront Sigma about it but in secret, he and Dazai were a bit worried about them. 

Of course Dazai thought about possible answers to Sigma always covering his throat but he never did some research about the others' past. He knew a bit about it from what Fyodor told him when they both had been at Meursault but he didn’t know in depth details or what happened in this year before Fyodor found Sigma.

Even after work, when Sigma was alone with Chuuya and Dazai at their shared apartment, he would still always cover his throat. To bed, he would usually wear a kerchief, praying that neither Dazai nor Chuuya would ask him about it. 

During their first night together at the apartment, Chuuya did in fact ask Sigma if he was feeling well and Dazai asked him if he felt sick or had a sore throat but after Sigma told them that this wasn’t the case, the other two simply exchanged a glance and never asked about it again. 

It stayed like this for months until one evening, Dazai accidentally saw Sigma without his neck covered. 

He forgot to knock before entering their bedroom despite the door being closed due to being way too caught up in thought.

He was startled out of his thoughts when the pillow which Sigma threw hit his face

He quickly apologized and left the room as quickly as he came but he actually didn’t even look at Sigma’s neck. Out of reflex he looked away as quick as he could and didn’t even think about stealing a glance out of curiosity. 

However when Sigma came to him into the living room and sat down next to him on the couch where Dazai had been waiting until he could go into their bedroom to change a few minutes later, Sigma seemed incredibly nervous and when he asked Dazai if he saw “them”, he wouldn’t stop unconsciously  picking at his fingers. 

Dazai was completely caught off guard and gently took his partner's hands into his, asking what he meant. 

He was already ready for Sigma standing up, hitting him with “nothing” and quickly walking away, telling him to forget it but instead of doing so, Sigma would take a shaky breath, pointing at his neck which was uncovered. 

That Sigma had scars on his neck was one of the possibilities which Dazai considered but seeing that this really was the case, made Dazai’s heart sink a bit. 

He just replied that he didn’t see them but he also thanked him for showing them to him, since he remembered that this was what Chuuya said when Dazai showed him his scars for the first time. 

Sigma just nodded.

There was a long, heavy and awkward silence between them afterwards. Dazai didn’t dare to ask them the story behind the scars and Sigma didn’t dare to say anything, anxious thoughts filling up his mind. 

However, Dazai wouldn’t let go of the other’s cold and shaky hands, gently caressing the back of them with his thumbs and squeezing them reassuringly. 

Sigma was the one to break the silence, telling Dazai about the organization, the slavery, his time in the desert, the metal collar, what they made him do and everything else.

His voice was shaky and sometimes his voice would crack while his eyes were filled with tears.

Dazai listened to him quietly, holding his hands.

He didn’t show it, but hearing about what happened and what they did to him, made him feel more anger than he felt for months.

After Sigma finished telling him, Dazai quietly thanked him for telling him all of this.

Afterwards there was a short silence before Dazai pulled Sigma into a tight hug, which Sigma quickly returned.

They clinged to Dazai as if their life would depend on him as they couldn’t hold the tears back anymore

Dazai held them, burying his face in the crook of Sigma’s neck, telling them that they didn’t deserve all of this but also telling them that they stilled looked beautiful with the scars visible and he reassured him that he loved him (and Chuuya) more than anything in the whole world.

He also thanked him once again for the trust to tell him about it. 

He let Sigma cry as much as they needed to, not letting go of them.

Sigma felt as if a whole mountain got lifted off his heart. He had never talked about this with anyone and showed his scars to nobody and even if he knew that there had been no reason to feel that way, he had been scared of the reaction of Dazai and Chuuya. Now that at least one of them knew about it and after being able to finally talk about it with someone dear to him, it genuinely  felt as if tons of weight were lifted off his heart. 

He apologized to Dazai between his sobs, telling him that he had wanted to tell him and Chuuya about it much earlier but that he had been scared to do so. 

Dazai quickly shushed him, replying that everything was alright and that that wasn’t something he should feel sorry about and that he didn’t need to apologize for which Sigma thanked him and hugged Dazai even tighter if that was even possible. 

They sat there for quite some time like that, holding each other and Dazai letting Sigma cry it all out until Chuuya suddenly came into the living room. 

The redhead had been at work until evening and when he came home, he immediately noticed that something was wrong

When he found Sigma and Dazai in the living room like that, he felt his heart squeeze in his chest, quickly going to them, asking what happened, his voice thick with worry. 

Sigma flinched upon hearing Chuuya’s voice, not having noticed that he came home and entered the living room already but relaxed quickly again. 

Dazai just looked up to his partner with a small smile, greeting him and telling him that everything is alright again. 

Sigma then looked up too, pointing at his throat and telling Chuuya that they’ve been talking about those. 

Upon seeing the scars, Chuuya showed more openly his small shock and worry before sitting down next to his partners.

Sigma then proceeded to tell him everything he told Dazai too and while it was still hard for him to do so, it was much easier this time. He also apologized to him too but Chuuya told him the same as Dazai did. 

He then thanked Sigma too for their trust and for telling him before pulling them in a hug. 

Chuuya too had teary eyes after hearing what happened. 

He not only told Sigma how much he loved him but he also mumbled that he will find the people who did this to him and that he will make them suffer just as much as they made him suffer. 

Sigma looked at him a bit shocked but before he could say anything, Dazai pulled Chuuya back into a hug, telling him that he didn’t have to do that and Sigma quickly joined their hug, thanking Chuuya and telling him that he genuinely appreciated it but that he really didn’t needed to do it. 

For the rest of the evening they sat curled up together on the couch, not watching TV but just enjoying being in each other’s presence and Chuuya told Sigma quietly how beautiful he looked, making Sigma blush before telling Chuuya that he looked even more beautiful.

Dazai then proceeded to whine, telling them that he felt left out, making them both laugh before kissing Dazai which made him blush in a dark shade of red as well as stop working for a second.

Ever since that day, Sigma would only cover his neck during work and when they would go out but not at their apartment anymore.

Only during bad days where he felt more insecure again or when he couldn’t stand seeing the scars since they would always remind him about what happened he would cover them up with something. 

Dazai and Chuuya both told him that while his scars remind him of this awful time, they are also a reminder and a proof that he managed to escape and that he survived it, that it’s over now and that he’s safe now and it makes him feel a bit better.

Chuuya showed him his pencil scar the very same day where he told them about his scars, telling him the history behind it. 

Sigma might have cried a bit again, making Chuuya feel bad which made Sigma feel bad so they ended up hugging each other.

When Sigma feels bad about his scars again, Dazai or Chuuya (depending on who’s with him) sometimes kiss the scars lightly

They also sometimes do it during more intimate times.

To this day, it always makes Sigma feel better, safe and loved.

During the first time when Chuuya unexpectedly kissed Sigma’s scars, Sigma teared up a bit but not out of sadness or any other negative emotion. Simply because he felt so loved.

The only other person who know about the scars and their history is Ranpo because Ranpo is Ranpo and after a year in the ADA, Atsushi and Yosano know about it too since Yosano saw them while she treated Sigma after a mission and Atsushi knows it since Sigma trusted him enough to tell him about it. 

Only like 2 years later, he finally stopped covering his throat all the time, feeling more and more secure in his body and in the ADA. 

Chuuya and Dazai still want to make the members of the organization suffer. 

[a-simp-named-slickback]

Star-Crossed | Basim x OC | Part 1

This is the first chapter of my AC Mirage fan fiction featuring my OC Nashira, an astronomer’s daughter who Basim befriends in his youth.

Basim dashed through the streets of Abbasiyah, holding a purse of coins tight against his chest. He knew swiping money from that merchant in the bazaar was a risky move, but it was a risk he was willing to take at the time.

To the merchant, this amount of money was nothing compared to the rest of his fortune, but to Basim it could buy him food for the next couple of days, maybe even a week if he was frugal enough with it.

He panted as he ducked and dodged through the crowds. He glanced behind him, seeing the guards still hot on his trail. He had hoped to lose them by now but they persisted. At this rate he would soon tire and slow down, making it easy for them to capture him. If that happened, not only would he lose the money but his hand as well.

Basim kept his eyes peeled for any place he could hide: a dark alleyway, a crate, an abandoned home, anything. He knew Baghdad like the back of his hand. One learns a lot about a city when you’re always running away from someone. Soon the courtyard of the House of Wisdom came into view with its luscious gardens and crowds of scholars providing ample places to hide. As he sharply turned a corner his eyes landed on an open window with thin curtains billowing in the breeze. Without thinking, he bolted for the opening, jumping inside.

He landed with a huff, looking behind him to see if they followed. A barrage of footsteps ran past, growing fainter with each step until Basim could barely hear them anymore.

He let out a breath “One step ahead, as usual.” Basim thought to himself as he slipped the purse into his satchel. Now that that was over, Dervis would be expecting him for work soon. He’d need to head back to Anbar before it got dark, and Basim was a long way from home. He turned on his heel to dash away for good.

Just as his heartbeat returned to normal, he felt himself collide into something with an impact strong enough to send him straight to the floor. A thud rang out in the area, and Basim quickly scurried to the nearby wall where the window was. He looked up to see what, or rather who he bumped into, feeling his heartbeat skyrocket when he spotted a girl staring wide eyed back at him.

A girl, who with one scream, could summon the guards.

With a gasp, she quickly stood up, backing away from Basim. Her golden brown eyes bore into his. She looked quite young, if he had to guess she was somewhere near his age. Judging by the brilliant blue salwar kameez and the fine silk scarf around her neck, they lived very different lives. A number of scrolls and books were scattered around her, no doubt having fallen because of their collision.

He looked around to figure where he was. In his haste to get away from the guards, he hadn’t realized he’d made his way to the library. There were rows and rows of bookshelves and desks surrounding him. It didn’t seem like anyone else was in this room except for the two of them. That was good; even if she did scream he’d have time to dash before she could point him out.

Suddenly a guard came to the window, “You, girl! Have you seen a boy running through here?” He asked her.

Basim shrank from where the guard was, hoping he wouldn’t look down and see him cowering below. Still, he instinctually positioned himself so he’d be ready to run at a moment's notice if he needed to.

The girl glanced down at Basim, “I…um…” She watched as he silently pleaded with her to not tell the guard his whereabouts, but Basim saw the uncertainty in her eyes.

This part of the library held old tomes from scholars in the past, including texts from around the known world requested by the Caliph himself. Therefore, this room in the library wasn’t open to everyone. They had to have special permission from the head Scholar, which this boy clearly didn’t have.

Still, he was just a boy. A frightened looking one at that.

“Please,” He mouthed to her, as if to beg her to keep quiet about his whereabouts.

She looked up at the guard and cleared her throat, “I saw him go that way.” She pointed in the opposite direction and the guard darted that way in an instant.

The girl craned her head out the window, making sure he was long gone. She crouched down to meet Basim’s eyes, “It’s safe to come out now.” She said just above a whisper, as if she were scared the guard could somehow hear her.

Immediately, he let out a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding in. That's when eyes landed on the scattered books and scrolls along the floor, no doubt a result of his colliding with this girl. Feeling guilty, he crawled forward to gather them for her.

He cleared his throat, “Thank you…for not giving me away.” He said, looking up at her.

The girl gathered some books herself, “There is no need to thank me. I’m happy to help.”

The two of them carefully gathered the books as a silence hung over them. Every now and then

Basim would steal a glance at the girl next to him. The evening sunlight cast its golden glow on her, illuminating her soft features. Scattered across her face were a series of moles, the most prominent one just above her left eyebrow. Her dark curls billowed out of her scarf, framing her full cheeks.

She glanced his way as well and Basim quickly averted his gaze, realizing he had been staring at this girl for some time. He only hoped she could not see the redness spread across his cheeks. He shook off the feeling, choosing to instead turn his attention to the writings he held in his hands. He read the titles of some of the books as they both stood up.

He gasped when he saw a familiar name, “These are all writings by al-Khwarizmi?” he asked her.

The girl nodded, “I was just grabbing these for my father. al-Khwarizmi was his mentor. Do you know of him?” She asked.

“Know of him? I knew him,” He grinned, “When I was little I used to sneak into this very library and he would teach me mathematics and astronomy.” Basim smiled as fond memories of his time with that old man filled his mind again.

The girl's eyes widened, “Really? That's amazing!” She marveled, “What was he like?”

“Brilliant,” Basim answered, “Not very patient when I made mistakes, but he was kind nonetheless.” He looked down and realized he was still holding on to her books.

He cleared his throat, “Here.” He handed the girl her things, feeling a tingle shoot through him when his fingers touched hers.

He felt it again when she grabbed his arm, leading him out of the library and down the hall.

“You must meet my father!” She insisted, “He would love to meet another student of al-Kwarizmi.”

Basim stumbled behind her, not knowing what he got himself into, but nevertheless deciding to go along for the ride.

____________________________________________________________________________

Moment’s later, Basim found himself gazing at the ceiling of the room he entered. The girl brought him to what looked like an observatory, judging by the dome shaped ceiling with beautifully intricate designs of celestial bodies adorning it.

All around the room were star maps and other drawings. There were telescopes, compases, and many other tools along the walls, as well as large stacks of books messily gathered in the corners. There were two desks: one was full fo papers and scrolls with various compases and writing tools scattered around it, and the other was neatly organized with an large older man sitting there.

The girl gently sat the books and scrolls on a nearby table, scurrying her way over to the bearded man near the center of the room, “Baba, Baba!” she tugged on his sleeve to get his attention, though he seemed very deep into his work.

“One moment azizati, just need to figure out this calculation…” The older man stroked his graying beard, then fiddled with a nearby counter, “This doesn’t seem right…” He muttered to himself.

Basim watched as the girl drummed her fingers on the table, patiently waiting as her father wracked his brain over the mathematical formula. She sighed, looking over his shoulder at his work. She pointed to the paper, “You forgot to carry the two here, Baba.”

The man blinked, then threw his head back in a hearty chuckle that seemed to nearly shake the walls around them, “So it seems I have! Clever girl,” He patted her on the head, “Now, what was it you wanted to tell me?”

The girl motioned in Basim’s direction, “I want you to meet someone! This is-” She paused, “Oh, how rude of me. I haven’t even asked you your name.” She said, seeming embarrassed.

Basim waved her off, “It is alright. I am Basim.” He said, slightly bowing his head towards the two.

“It is nice to meet you, Basim. I am Nashira, and this is my father Khalid ibn Mohammed, the head astronomer here at the House of Wisdom.” she said proudly.

Basim felt something brush against him, causing him to look down to see a fluffy white cat rubbing itself against his legs. The cat had big green eyes and a pendant around its neck with a moon design on it. He crouched down to pet the creature, delighting in its soft purring. He quite liked cats, as there were many stray ones roaming around the streets. However this cat was definitely a purebred unlike the ones he found in Anbar.

Nashira giggled, “And that is our cat, Halah!” She turned to her father, “Baba, Basim was a student of al-Kwarizmi. And we just happened to…run into each other in the library. Isn’t that something?”

Basim was thankful she embellished that bit of the story.

Khalid’s eyes widened with surprise, a trait Basim could already tell his daughter inherited from him, “Mashallah!” He quickly rose from his seat and made his way to the young man, wrapping his arms around him and lifting him off the ground, “Any friend of my old mentor is a friend of mine.”

Basim squirmed a bit in the hold, but smiled nonetheless “Nice to meet you too, ustadi.” He strained to say.

Khalid gently set Basim down, dusting his shoulders as he let out another hearty chuckle, “I wish we could talk more, but I have a lecture to give. Please, make yourself at home here, my daughter can show you any studies you’d like to see about astronomy while you are here.”

Basim nodded, waving to the man as he left for his lecture. Nashira made her way beside him, now holding Halah herself.

She chuckled, “My Baba has never met a stranger,” She let Halah jump down from her arms, motioning for Basim to take a seat at the nearby table as she rummaged through a cabinet.

“I can tell,” He coughed out, rubbing his chest as he still felt the hug Khalid gave him. “How is it you have not met al-Kwarizmi? Seeing as your father is an astronomer and all.” He asked.

Nashira exited the cabinet, holding a plate of dates and a vase of water that she set on the table, “I was too young to come to the House of Wisdom back then. Baba hired a Nanny to take care of me while he studied under him, and once I was old enough I came here to study here under my father.”

Basim nodded as he made sense of what she was saying. Seeing as she was raised by a nanny in her childhood, he figured it was safe to assume her mother died when she was a baby. It made sense then why she got to study in the House of Wisdom if she was under her father’s care.

Basim nodded, “I see, that must have been after al-Kwarizmi passed. I was wondering why I had never seen you here before,” He graciously took the cup of water she poured for him, “I’m sure I would have remembered a girl like you.”

Nashira gave him a cheeky smile, raising an eyebrow as she did so.

Basim flushed, realizing how he sounded.

“What I mean is, there are not many young girls like yourself in the House of Wisdom.” He quickly added, hoping his last comment didn’t come off as him being fresh.

He felt himself relax when he heard her laugh, “Calm down, Basim. I am only teasing.” She sat down on the other side of the table, reaching for a date to snack on, “But you are right about that, not many scholars devote their time to teaching girls. So I count myself lucky that my father is one. It's just me and my Baba, studying the stars.”

Halah let out a meow, jumping on the table.

Nashira petted the cat, “And you too, Halah.” She gave the cat a date as well.

Basim smiled, “That sounds like quite the life.” He said, taking a sip of water and realizing how thirsty he had been. He then reached across the table to scratch Halah under the chin, smiling when she purred. Perhaps in a different life he’d be doing much the same with his father, learning the ways of an architect.

Some time passed as they enjoyed their snack together before Nashira spoke again. “Now if you don’t mind me asking, why were those guards chasing after you?” She placed her chin in her hand, waiting patiently for him to answer her.

Basim gulped. He should’ve known better than to think he’d get off completely Scott free.

“Well…you see I was…” He tried to think of any possible explanation that wouldn’t make him look bad but came up with nothing. He slumped, feeling it best to be honest, “I was caught stealing in the market.”

Nashira’s eyes widened, “Stealing? Why would you do that?”

Basim slumped even more, feeling shame set in.

Nashira’s eyes looked over Basim, taking in his appearance. His clothes were old and tethered, some of his garments looked worn beyond repair. Her eyebrows furrowed, feeling ashamed of herself for asking such a question.

“Nevermind, you do not need to answer that.” She told him.

Basim felt a bit of relief. Still, he could tell she pitied him, which didn’t make him feel much better.

He noticed the setting sun from the open window. Dervis would be expecting him soon and he’d need to leave if he wanted to get back to Anbar.

He stood up, “It is getting late, I really must get going,” He stood up from his chair, “Thank you again for helping me today, Nashira.”

She frowned, “You’re leaving already?” She asked, sounding saddened by the news.

He nodded, “I have to go home. Someone is expecting me.”

She took another glance at his clothes, “Where is home for you?” She asked carefully.

Basim bit his lip, “...Anbar.” He hesitated to say.

Anbar, the slums of Baghdad. Nashira had not learned much about her new friend, but with that in mind, certain things were starting to make sense. No one in their right mind would risk stealing unless they had too. Not when the punishment for stealing was losing a hand.

She gathered the remaining dates into a small pouch, “Please, take these with you.”

Basim shook his head, holding his hands in front of him in protest, “No, please, I do not want your pity.” He pleaded. The last thing he wanted was for this girl to feel sorry for him.

She tilted her head, “Pity? Baba always buys me too many dates. I never have anyone to share them with, so if you don’t take them they will just go to waste. You would be doing me a favor by taking them off my hands,” She smiled at him softly and shook the bag a little, hoping he would take them.

Basim felt the tension in his shoulders lessen. His eyes softened. Basim gave her a small smile as he took the bag of dates and placed them in his satchel. He felt his stomach grumble thinking about the sweet, juicy contents of the pouch. Nehal and the other children who worked for Dervis would love them as well.

He made his way toward the window, “Thank you Nashira. It was nice to meet you.” He said, meaning every word.

She watched as he jumped down onto a nearby ledge, then down to the courtyard below, “Come back and see me!” She called out to him.

He looked up at her, seeing her smiling face above, “I will!”

“You promise?” She asked.

“I promise!” He said back, waving as he did so. He was just about to turn around when he heard her call his name once more.

“And Basim! Next time, just use the front entrance.” She smirked.

He laughed, “I will try to remember that!”

[lightofraye]

Taylor Swift - All Too Well (10 Minute Version)

I walked through the door with you, the air was cold But somethin' 'bout it felt like home somehow And I left my scarf there at your sister's house And you've still got it in your drawer, even now Oh, your sweet disposition and my wide-eyed gaze We're singin' in the car, getting lost upstate Autumn leaves fallin' down like pieces into place And I can picture it after all these days And I know it's long gone and That magic's not here no more And I might be okay, but I'm not fine at all Oh, oh, oh 'Causе there we arе again on that little town street You almost ran the red 'cause you were lookin' over at me Wind in my hair, I was there I remember it all too well Photo album on the counter, your cheeks were turnin' red You used to be a little kid with glasses in a twin-sized bed And your mother's tellin' stories 'bout you on the tee-ball team You taught me 'bout your past, thinkin' your future was me And you were tossing me the car keys, "Fuck the patriarchy" Keychain on the ground, we were always skippin' town And I was thinkin' on the drive down, "Any time now He's gonna say it's love," you never called it what it was 'Til we were dead and gone and buried Check the pulse and come back swearin' it's the same After three months in the grave And then you wondered where it went to as I reached for you But all I felt was shame and you held my lifeless frame

And I know it's long gone and There was nothing else I could do And I forget about you long enough To forget why I needed to 'Cause there we are again in the middle of the night We're dancin' 'round the kitchen in the refrigerator light Down the stairs, I was there I remember it all too well And there we are again when nobody had to know You kept me like a secret, but I kept you like an oath Sacred prayer and we'd swear To remember it all too well, yeah Well, maybe we got lost in translation, maybe I asked for too much But maybe this thing was a masterpiece 'til you tore it all up Runnin' scared, I was there I remember it all too well And you call me up again just to break me like a promise So casually cruel in the name of bein' honest I'm a crumpled-up piece of paper lyin' here 'Cause I remember it all, all, all They say all's well that ends well, but I'm in a new hell Every time you double-cross my mind You said if we had been closer in age, maybe it would've been fine And that made me want to die The idea you had of me, who was she? A never-needy, ever-lovely jewel whose shine reflects on you Not weepin' in a party bathroom Some actress askin' me what happened, you That's what happened, you You who charmed my dad with self-effacing jokes Sippin' coffee like you're on a late-night show But then he watched me watch the front door all night, willin' you to come And he said, "It's supposed to be fun turning twenty-one" Time won't fly, it's like I'm paralyzed by it I'd like to be my old self again, but I'm still tryin' to find it After plaid shirt days and nights when you made me your own Now you mail back my things and I walk home alone But you keep my old scarf from that very first week 'Cause it reminds you of innocence and it smells like me You can't get rid of it 'Cause you remember it all too well, yeah 'Cause there we are again when I loved you so Back before you lost the one real thing you've ever known It was rare, I was there I remember it all too well Wind in my hair, you were there You remember it all Down the stairs, you were there You remember it all It was rare, I was there I remember it all too well And I was never good at tellin' jokes, but the punch line goes "I'll get older, but your lovers stay my age" From when your Brooklyn broke my skin and bones I'm a soldier who's returning half her weight And did the twin flame bruise paint you blue? Just between us, did the love affair maim you too? 'Cause in this city's barren cold I still remember the first fall of snow And how it glistened as it fell I remember it all too well Just between us, did the love affair maim you all too well? Just between us, do you remember it all too well? Just between us, I remember it (Just between us) all too well Wind in my hair, I was there, I was there (I was there) Down the stairs, I was there, I was there Sacred prayer, I was there, I was there It was rare, you remember it all too well Wind in my hair, I was there, I was there (Oh) Down the stairs, I was there, I was there (I was there) Sacred prayer, I was there, I was there It was rare, you remember it (All too well) Wind in my hair, I was there, I was there Down the stairs, I was there, I was there Sacred prayer, I was there, I was there It was rare, you remember it Wind in my hair, I was there, I was there Down the stairs, I was there, I was there Sacred prayer, I was there, I was there It was rare, you remember it

[science-lings]

Revali desperately wants some kind of reaction from link. Everything he tries fails miserably. After a particular comment about links family, he finally got one! In the form of a punch to the beak

okay I'm combining this one with a very similar prompt: wild gets mad and punches someone in the face hard enough to break their jaw

Link was the very pinnacle of self-control. Even against pricks like Revali. He was an expert in bottling up his petty anger until he was in front of a monster and using it to slice the poor creature into purple dust. He rarely even flinched when confronted with jealous warriors who believed they deserved the sword on his back more than he did.

As if he hadn't spent his whole life with a blade in his hand and an easily verified history of undefeated victory under his belt ever since he was a child. It was that idea that kept him from getting upset when warriors with massive egos tried to taunt him into a fight. He knew his ability and it wasn't his fault that they were threatened by him.

But he wasn't as untouchable as people seemed to think. He wasn't a statue or an idol to be looked upon and prayed to for their salvation, he wasn't a figure from the legends, although, maybe he was. He didn't really feel like one. Behind his well-crafted mask of stone, he was still a person, a teenager.

No matter how perfect he tried to be, he was still just a mortal boy. And he was really dreading the week-long excursion to Rito village to attempt the divine beast's first flight. A whole week spent within earshot of Revali and his constant infuriating squawking.

Unfortunately, the Rito champion had made it his mission to get a reaction out of him, and after hours and hours of endless mocking and fluffing up his feathers, he succeeded.

The princess was off inspecting Vah Medoe for some last-minute checks and had left her personal knight and the divine beasts pilot behind, as neither of them were well-versed in ancient mechanics. Link stayed on his guard while Revali came up with more and more things he could say to bother his fellow champion.

"At this point, I can't even tell if you're simply too stupid to speak or if you have some kind of mental affliction damaging that puny head of yours. I suppose that's what too many moblin clubs to the cranium will get you..." Revali rambled while Link focused on taking even measured breaths.

"Is that why they got rid of you so fast? All those stories about your impossible feats as a toddler were all made up so your parents had a reason to get you out of their sight? I mean, are we supposed to believe that a scrawny four-year-old hylian could even pick up a sword? It's just... too asinine to even consider!" The rito laughed, within the hidden confines of his mouth, the hero clenched his teeth together.

"Well, if that's the case, I don't blame them! Perhaps they were fools for not simply leaving a runt like you to succumb to the elements! I've seen you, you won't even speak to them! I wonder if they regret not leaving you to the beasts as a babe..."

It was then that Link snapped. Before he could break his teeth or let his nails cut into the skin of his palms. After years and years of relentlessly focused control, that was the thing that tossed all his training out the window.

With a swift yank to the bird's champion blue scarf and a satisfying crunch, Link's fist made contact with the side of Revali's beak, sending the rito to the ground causing a heavy thud and a distressed squawk.

"If you wanted me to grace you with my voice so badly you could've just asked, now shut the fuck up for once in your self-obsessed life you overgrown cucco," The hero growled as the rito champion cradled his jaw in his feathery hand and looked up at him with a certain kind of indignant horror.

For the next six days and surely beyond, the mouthy bird had his beak bound by bandages, unable to open it for even the simplest mention of gloating.

The silence was just as sweet as he hoped it would be, and though it was impossible for a single punch to keep Revali's ego at bay, from then on, his insults tended to remain far away from the line he had crossed that day.

Send me prompts?

[gripefroot]

Crooked Ways [2/22]

Vegeta had acclimatized himself to the regular comings-and-goings of Capsule Corp within hours of arriving there, all those months ago. Vacuums no longer made him jump, although he still eyed that asinine cat with suspicion from time to time. 

He didn’t think about it, but Capsule Corp had acclimatized to hosting an alien, too. Once one of the foot soldiers from Panchy’s army of housekeepers had screamed when he’d appeared without making a noise of warning, as was natural for humans. Then she’d greeted him with a smile and a “Good morning,” for a few weeks, now she only returned his mutual indifference. 

The kitchen, he’d learned first. After learning that the hired cooks had nights and weekends off, for whatever human custom. He had no such luxury of time off - he still needed to eat. The Briefs family made do with takeout and snacks, but that always fell short after hours of pushing his body to the absolute limits. So Vegeta had become accustomed to scarfing down cold cereal by the gallon (eaten out of Panchy’s punch bowls that she kept for parties), eggs by the dozen, and toast by the loaf. It never tasted as good, but Vegeta had stopped being picky with food before he’d been old enough to wear armor. Saiyans couldn’t afford to be picky with food. 

He was in the process of stirring eggs in a saucepan - his second dozen of the morning - when Bulma returned from her shower. Vegeta could have had sixty showers by the time she had one, but he held back that comment after eyeing her briefly over his shoulder. 

Not that he needed to. He knew she was there. But sensing Bulma Briefs and seeing Bulma Briefs were two entirely different things and caused two very different sensations in his body, he’d learned. 

Why didn’t she finish zipping that blasted jumpsuit? Why did she insist on displaying her cleavage for the world to see? 

“I guess it is time for lunch,” she remarked. A twinge of cold air from the refrigerator when she opened it to peer inside caught Vegeta on the arm. 

“You can have mine,” he said. “It’ll get you into the lab sooner to make the bots.” 

“Truly, your kindness is astonishing.” She flipped a sheet of teal hair over her shoulder, a smile stretched on her face. “Will you light me some candles, too? Pour the wine?” 

“Shut up and sit down.” 

To his surprise, she did. And when Vegeta had plated the steam pile of curdled eggs, he strode across the kitchen in two steps to drop the plate in front of her, sitting at the kitchen island. 

“Not bad,” Bulma said, prodding the haphazard pile with a fork. “They look fluffy.”

“I’m more concerned about the bots than your opinion of my cooking.” 

Behind the silvery steam her smile only widened. Immediately his spine stiffened, sure (from experience) that she was about to say something. He’d lived in her house long enough. Bulma twirled the fork in her fingers as if she hadn’t a care in the world. “You’re not getting the bots unless you listen to my every trivial opinion.” 

Irritation clenched him somewhere in the middle. Vegeta let out a puff of breath, suppressing the urge to pinch his nose. Instead he met those infuriatingly bright eyes with a glare, his own way of proving to her that he wouldn’t back down. 

“If I listen to your every trivial opinion, you’ll never have the time to make the bots,” he said. Her smile faded, but only slightly. With a shrug, Bulma scooped up a bite of eggs onto her fork before popping them into her mouth. For a second they both waited there, at a cusp he didn’t fully understand. Then her eyes widened slightly, her body heaving as she covered her mouth with a hand. 

“What?” Vegeta asked, impatience making the question short. 

She didn’t respond right away. Instead she fanned her face as she chewed, eyes gone shiny and wet with tears. Finally she swallowed, gasping in a breath before choking out, “You can add salt, you know. It’s in the cupboard.

“Salt?” 

“Salt,” Bulma repeated, staring at him. “You know, the mineral brains need to…oh, never mind.” She placed the fork by the plate with delicacy. “I’m sure you get enough salt from all the chips you eat.” Her gaze landed behind him, where Vegeta had propped a half-eaten bag against the towering egg cartons he’d been working his way through, shells and egg white dripping down the sides. One of her brows arched, as if daring him to take offense. “Then again,” she added with even more delicacy. “Who knows what your brain needs.” 

“Robots with missile capabilities,” Vegeta said at once. 

Her mouth twitched. Unfortunately he’d spent enough time with this woman in the last months that he knew the difference between her Haha-I-Win laughs and her That’s-actually-hilarious laughs. This was the latter. He knew it because something warm pricked up his spine, causing a shiver to form through his body - which he promptly disguised by turning his back on her with a scoff, opening the next carton of eggs. 

“You’re funny when you’re not bossing me around,” Bulma said. He heard her rummaging through cupboards, the crunching of something crisp devoured between her teeth. 

“You’re useless when I’m not,” Vegeta retorted, but it lacked his usual ruthlessness. A pool of egg white bubbled in the hot pan, the sunshine-yellow yolk a perfect sphere until he cracked another right on top of it. “I know what salt is,” he added in a growl, mostly to himself. 

“I’ll be in the pod,” she told him, voice growing fainter. He didn’t dare look back until he was sure she’d turned the corner out of the kitchen, eyes narrowing at the shadow of the hallway that had swallowed her up. 

What was it about her, anyway? That thing that drove him a little crazy. That made him sure when she was nearby, even without putting thought into sensing energy? Which, in the Briefs family abode, he’d quit trying. None of them put out anything interesting. 

That thing that had burned images in his mind: her tucking hair behind her ear, the way her teeth flashed when she grinned, the different tones of her laughs. The thing that made him wonder, just once or twice, what exactly was going on behind the pretty face of a woman who could spin a deadly robot together in under an hour. The only thing that could distract him from his single-minded training. 

Like just now. Carefully, not a hint of his inner turmoil visible from the surface, Vegeta stirred the eggs together until they started to harden a clump together. He should be planning his next training regime with the new robots, not thinking about the infuriating Bulma Briefs that made his spine tingle and his palms sweat. 

Wiping said palms on his thighs, Vegeta opened a cabinet with a scowl. 

Salt. Salt. 

Salt.

~

Unlike Dr. Briefs, Bulma programmed her bots to calibrate after setting up in their homing stations. That meant she had to force them behind the steel panels at the top of the training pod, precarious tip-toes on a rickety ladder. Also unlike her father, Bulma was either determined or unconscious of how she looked when waist deep behind the panels, her rear end sticking out and hips wriggling while Vegeta heard the occasional swear word and grunt reverberating behind the walls. 

Six hundred and eighty-five, six hundred and eighty-six, six hundred and eighty-seven…

With half his mind on his sit-ups and half his mind on that rickety looking ladder (he gave it an occasional glance, definitely not on the way up or down to staring at Bulma’s backside) Vegeta grit his teeth and clenched his core, wondering when he’d gotten so sloppy. 

Seven hundred and seven, seven hundred and eight, seven hundred and nine…

“Aha!” 

His gaze jerked back to her. Her toes finally landed on the rung of the ladder again, the top half of her body reappearing to duck beneath the propped steel panel. Even from several feet away Vegeta could see the dust smeared over her jumpsuit. Bulma grasped the edge of the panel, using all her weight to shove it down and into place with a satisfying click. 

“One more,” she announced, climbing back down the ladder. Vegeta didn’t respond, puffing breaths with each sit-up. Now that she could see him again, he didn’t dare tear his eyes away from a distant point across from him. 

Seven hundred and thirty-nine, seven hundred and forty…

The legs of the ladder scraped across the floor with a screech. Bulma was humming, so the insufferable shrill noise must not bother her human ears. Vegeta’s face was tightly wrapped in a cringe, hissing between his teeth. 

Her humming grew closer. He almost jumped out of his skin before realizing she wasn’t coming for him, but for the last of the spherical bots she’d left at the edge of the room. She had to bend over to lift it from the ground, that infernal humming unceasing, before tucking it under her elbow to saunter back to the ladder and the last homing station. 

The humming stopped. 

“You know,” Bulma called, mounting the ladder one rung at a time, using her only free hand to steady herself. “This would be a lot faster if I had an assistant who could fly.” 

“Call your boyfriend,” Vegeta bit back. 

Seven hundred and - dang it - I forgot - 

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” was her stiff response. The panel screeched when she opened it. Of course Vegeta already knew that - Yamcha was a name much maligned in the Briefs house, and currently forbidden from being spoken aloud. 

“Maybe you should get one.” 

“Maybe you should get your butt off the ground and help like I asked!” 

Her sudden outburst rattled Vegeta enough that his sit-ups took a tenth of a second delay. Her angry glare from across the room burned across his skin, and he glared right back. 

“You didn’t ask!” he snapped. 

“What do you think I meant, ‘I wish I had an assistant who could fly’?”

“Probably that you wish you had an assistant who could fly!” Vegeta’s sit-ups were getting uneven, his pace picking up without realizing. “If you want something, just say it outright, woman!” 

“Help me, you idiot!”

The words were enough that he froze mid-sit-up, breath caught in his throat until he saw she was standing on the top rung, not hurtling to her death on the floor. The bot was snug between her thighs, the panel held over her. Must be broken, if she couldn’t prop it up. Vegeta cursed, rolling onto his feet before kicking off the floor to fly across the room where Bulma waited. One hand was on her hip, a particularly impatient snarl pinching her blue brows together. 

“Thank you.” The words were laced with sneering sarcasm. Vegeta ignored that, covering her hand on the steel panel with his own so she could slip hers out. 

It was one thing to be watching (or to pretend not to be watching) the woman go about her work from across the room. It was another when she bent over to push the bot inside the wall and she bumped into him. Vegeta inhaled sharply, drifting back as far as he safely could without losing his hold on the panel and crushing Bulma beneath him. 

They weren’t touching anymore. However, those few inches he’d won also gave him a better view of her…shapely…

He cursed again, uncaring if she thought he was angry at her. Which, naturally she did, her voice tinny as it echoed back at him, “I’m going as fast as I can!”

“Go faster!”

“Maybe if you’d helped from the start I’d be done by now and you could get back to your precious training!” 

“Maybe if you hadn’t taken so long to get the bots made!” 

“Some things take time!” 

“Like getting a single robot in its homing station?” 

The rattling inside the wall went silent. Vegeta stared at her dusty jumpsuit ahead of him, trying to focus on the bright hair hidden in the shadows rather than her…nearer parts. Then she whipped around, crawling out of the space enough to snarl, “My dad used a different battery system in his last batch, so I had to adjust the settings in each of the - ”

“I don’t care,” Vegeta said shortly. “Are you done?”

Bulma’s eyes narrowed. “Are your little arms tired?” 

His teeth clenched so hard he heard the bones in his skull crack. “I am not little - ”

“Ooh, that struck a nerve!” To his surprise she laughed, more along the lines of Ha-I-Win. 

Vegeta considered dropping the panel on her - just a little bit - but she was ducking beneath it with her hands on the side of the ladder before he could decide if he could weather the consequences of that. As soon as she was clear, he dropped the panel with a slam and shot back to the floor, unwilling to linger too close to her any longer. 

“Now I’m done,” Bulma called down to him. “And my legs are tired from going up and down the ladder all morning. So if you don’t mind - catch me!” 

She flung herself off the ladder before he could do more than gape. Was she really - truly - that stupid? Evidently so - her freefall gave only a second of warning. Her aim was impeccable: she was going to land on his head if he didn’t do anything. He lifted his arms just in time and got a mouthful of floral-smelling, teal hair in his mouth for his altruistic effort. 

“Aww,” she said, her breath all warm on his cheek as he realized she’d looped an arm around his neck. “You do care.”

Heat rushed to his face with the vengeance of an exploding star. It didn’t help that she was cozying up all soft against him, it didn't help that he was fresh from the sight of her backside. So he did what any normal Saiyan caught in such an embarrassing bind of caring would do. 

Vegeta dropped her. 

Bulma’s yelp of surprise was cut in half by the thud of said backside (he really needed to think about something else) hitting the floor of the training pod. He got an elbow in his foot, which made him snark and jerk away - but not before noticing a familiar crack. 

A breath of surprise, and then she shrieked. 

He flinched at the noise, drawing a deep breath to start shouting back for her to shut up and give his ears a rest before noticing the scent of blood tickling his nostrils. Blood? But from what, how could - 

Bulma had curled over herself, bum parked firmly on the ground as she cradled her left hand against her chest. The shrieking stopped when he heard her take a shuddering breath - blessed quiet - and then her face whipped up to give him such a furious scowl that he actually backed up a step. Tears flooded from her eyes, face pale except the twin red blotches of her cheeks. He’d never say it aloud, but the ripe coloring made her prettier. More alive. More…

“You idiot! You broke my wrist!” 

“I did nothing of the sort,” Vegeta said at once, though a low curl of dread went around his stomach. “No one could possibly break a bone from a three foot drop.” 

She uncurled herself enough to show him her hand. The joint of her wrist was oddly bent. He saw blood, trickling over the cerulean veins that spiderwebbed beneath her delicate skin. 

Then he saw the red leave her cheeks so suddenly that not even a heartbeat passed before she started to tilt, eyes rolling in their sockets. 

And so Vegeta, Prince of all Saiyans (dwindling as the number may be) caught a human in his arms for the second time in his life.

[flailingdreamist-blog]

[Verse 1] I walked through the door with you, the air was cold But something 'bout it felt like home somehow And I left my scarf there at your sister's house And you've still got it in your drawer, even now

[Verse 2] Oh, your sweet disposition and my wide-eyed gaze We're singing in the car, getting lost upstate Autumn leaves falling down like pieces into place And I can picture it after all these days

[Pre-Chorus] And I know it's long gone and That magic's not here no more And I might be okay, but I'm not fine at all Oh, oh, oh

[Chorus] 'Cause there we are again on that little town street You almost ran the red 'cause you were lookin' over at me Wind in my hair, I was there I remember it all too well

[Verse 3] Photo album on the counter, your cheeks were turning red You used to be a little kid with glasses in a twin-sized bed And your mother's telling stories 'bout you on the tee-ball team You told me 'bout your past, thinking your future was me And you were tossing me the car keys, "Fuck the patriarchy" Key chain on the ground, we were always skipping town And I was thinking on the drive down, any time now He's gonna say it's love, you never called it what it was 'Til we were dead and gone and buried Check the pulse and come back swearing it's the same After three months in the grave And then you wondered where it went to as I reached for you But all I felt was shame and you held my lifeless frame

[Pre-Chorus] And I know it's long gone and There was nothing else I could do And I forget about you long enough To forget why I needed to

[Chorus] 'Cause there we are again in the middle of the night We're dancing 'round the kitchen in the refrigerator light Down the stairs, I was there I remember it all too well And there we are again when nobody had to know You kept me like a secret, but I kept you like an oath Sacred prayer and we'd swear To remember it all too well, yeah

[Bridge] Well, maybe we got lost in translation Maybe I asked for too much But maybe this thing was a masterpiece 'Til you tore it all up Running scared, I was there I remember it all too well And you call me up again just to break me like a promise So casually cruel in the name of being honest I'm a crumpled up piece of paper lying here 'Cause I remember it all, all, all

[Verse 4] They say all's well that ends well, but I'm in a new Hell Every time you double-cross my mind You said if we had been closer in age maybe it would have been fine And that made me want to die The idea you had of me, who was she? A never-needy, ever-lovely jewel whose shine reflects on you Not weeping in a party bathroom Some actress asking me what happened, you That's what happened, you You who charmed my dad with self-effacing jokes Sipping coffee like you're on a late-night show But then he watched me watch the front door all night, willing you to come And he said, "It's supposed to be fun turning twenty-one"

[Verse 5] Time won't fly, it's like I'm paralyzed by it I'd like to be my old self again, but I'm still trying to find it After plaid shirt days and nights when you made me your own Now you mail back my things and I walk home alone But you keep my old scarf from that very first week 'Cause it reminds you of innocence and it smells like me You can't get rid of it 'Cause you remember it all too well, yeah

[Chorus] 'Cause there we are again when I loved you so Back before you lost the one real thing you've ever known It was rare, I was there I remember it all too well Wind in my hair, you were there You remember it all Down the stairs, you were there You remember it all It was rare, I was there I remember it all too well

[Verse 4] They say all's well that ends well, but I'm in a new Hell Every time you double-cross my mind You said if we had been closer in age maybe it would have been fine And that made me want to die The idea you had of me, who was she? A never-needy, ever-lovely jewel whose shine reflects on you Not weeping in a party bathroom Some actress asking me what happened, you That's what happened, you You who charmed my dad with self-effacing jokes Sipping coffee like you're on a late-night show But then he watched me watch the front door all night, willing you to come And he said, "It's supposed to be fun turning twenty-one"

[Verse 5] Time won't fly, it's like I'm paralyzed by it I'd like to be my old self again, but I'm still trying to find it After plaid shirt days and nights when you made me your own Now you mail back my things and I walk home alone But you keep my old scarf from that very first week 'Cause it reminds you of innocence and it smells like me You can't get rid of it 'Cause you remember it all too well, yeah

[Chorus] 'Cause there we are again when I loved you so Back before you lost the one real thing you've ever known It was rare, I was there I remember it all too well Wind in my hair, you were there You remember it all Down the stairs, you were there You remember it all It was rare, I was there I remember it all too well

[Verse 6] And I was never good at telling jokes, but the punch line goes "I'll get older, but your lovers stay my age" From when your Brooklyn broke my skin and bones I'm a soldier who's returning half her weight And did the twin flame bruise paint you blue? Just between us, did the love affair maim you, too? 'Cause in this city's barren cold I still remember the first fall of snow And how it glistened as it fell I remember it all too well

[Outro] Just between us, did the love affair maim you all too well? Just between us, do you remember it all too well? Just between us, I remember it (Just between us), all too well Wind in my hair, I was there, I was there Down the stairs, I was there, I was there Sacred prayer, I was there, I was there It was rare, you remember it all too well Wind in my hair, I was there, I was there Down the stairs, I was there, I was there Sacred prayer, I was there, I was there It was rare, you remember it Wind in my hair, I was there, I was there Down the stairs, I was there, I was there Sacred prayer, I was there, I was there It was rare, you remember it Wind in my hair, I was there, I was there Down the stairs, I was there, I was there Sacred prayer, I was there, I was there It was rare, you remember it all too well

[Spoken Outro] I love you guys so much