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mothwingwritings · 9 months ago

Note

Can we have Ren/Fox (TPOF) and Mc with a child?Long after Fox decided to stay with MC, they both had a daughter (probably not something with consent and a bit of Stockholm syndrome).The daughter asks her mother how she got the scars and this makes MC have memories of post-traumatic stress.

I was so tickled by this ask that I started manically typing out a response for it nearly as soon as I saw it in my ask box (which at this point, was quite some time ago. Forgive me, I am a mess lul). I wrote the whole damn thing in a fit of passion, excited to release it into the world… But ultimately hated it and thought it was garbo, so I scrapped it and tried again. Wrote a second iteration and thought ‘hell yeah, this is it!!! Sick!’, but then I read it AND HATED THAT ONE TOO AAAHHH!!!

I rewrote this… so much…

But I never give up on my dreams, and you shouldn’t either! Persevere! Don’t give up on yourself! Here’s your daily motivation for the day! Keep writing even it makes you cry!!! :D

Anyway, so I wrote this third one, comprised of new stuff and the stuff I actually did like from the first two stabs, and it ended up being the one. Truly it is a Frankenstein of a fic lol. Regardless of all the reworking, I had a lot of fun writing this and enjoyed the prompt very much!!! I I hope you enjoy reading it just as much. :)

I’m sorry if the writing seems a tad too mature for the reader’s daughter in this, writing children isn’t my forte. ^^;

Due to the nature of this fic, IT IS 18+ ONLY!!! Thank you!

WARNINGS: Incessant mentions of abuse of all kinds for reader and mentions of physical abuse for her child!!! Reader is heavily scarred from said abuse and that’s a main theme in this fic so please avoid if that is upsetting to you. Also, though not the main focus, there are multiple mentions of child abuse in this fic, as well a part where reader goes off verbally on her child, so please be mindful of that as well! Other things of note: reader is a parent in this (which you can probably tell by the prev warning lol), reader getting hurt, blood, manipulation, Stockholm syndrome, being held against your will/isolation, mentions of noncon, sad family stuff :(

Diminishing rays of afternoon light splayed through the open window of your quaint living room, casting a comforting orange glow over everything they touched. The light gave the environment an ethereal and nostalgic feel, wrapping you in peaceful warmth as the sun sunk lower and lower. The loveseat you occupied was plush and inviting, and a mug of your favorite tea stood at the ready on the small coffee table beside you, steadily cooling with help from the last hurrah of winter blowing in gently from the outside. Besides the slight chill, the wind brought with it the heavy scent of freshly bloomed flowers, a delightful precursor to the oncoming spring.

Relishing the rare moment of serenity, you couldn’t help but wish that all your days could be this lovely.

You smiled down at your daughter who sat perched in your lap, happily flipping through the newest gift she had acquired from her Father- a thick picture book full of bright illustrations highlighting various exotic animals. As it lay sprawled across her tiny lap, her chubby finger pointed out each animal she took an interest in, her high pitched voice chirping away as she explained what she liked about the creatures. She got particularly excited when she spotted the page full of foxes, jabbing at the red one feverishly as she exclaimed “its daddy!”

Spotting the foxes began her down a path of assigning an animal to not just herself, but you as well. She didn’t find it fair that only her father had kin in the animal world, even though you pointed out that she technically did as well by sharing half the man’s blood. Your revelation did little to deter her, she wanted something new, something just for herself, and she wasn’t going to stop until she found her perfect soul animal. So she continued on, scanning each page in earnest until she found a creature that suited her.

She ended up picking a bunny for herself, supplying you with a comprehensive reason as to why she chose it. As she explained in great length, skimping no details, you couldn’t help but hold back laughter. She spoke as if she were a professor teaching a class, and you did your best to keep a straight face as she yammered on with her shoddy reasoning, deep down knowing she only picked a rabbit because of how cute they are.

After she was done waxing poetic about bunnies, she continued scouring the book, coming to a halt once she reached the wild cat section. She stopped with a gasp, beaming up at you as she pressed her finger firmly against one of the images on the page.

“Mommy this one is you!”

Your eyes traveled to the picture she was rapidly tapping, “An African Wildcat, huh?” You smirked down at the little girl in amusement, “Why did you pick that one for me?”

“Because it looks just like you!”

You chuckled at her enthusiasm, “It looks like me? How so?”

“It has marks just like you do!”

Her innocuous words sent a chill up your spine. Eying the stripes that crossed the cat’s legs, you felt a great unease begin to overtake your body. Her reasoning was not lost on you, the cats coat did quite resemble the jagged scars that covered nearly every inch of your body, and just like the feline in her book, your limbs were the most prominent location of said ‘markings’. You quickly shook your head, not wanting to dwell on it further. In hopes of moving on from the subject, the outpouring of words that flew from your mouth were jumbled and messy.

“O-oh, I see,” you stuttered, clearing your throat to steady your voice, “well you certainly picked a cute animal for me! Thank you baby, it was a good choice.”

She smiled at you innocently, a gesture that usually made your heart melt with affection. But as her tiny hands moved from the book to your arms, that smile did nothing but fill you with dread, the realization that you wouldn’t be getting out of this sticky situation hitting you like a brick to the face.

“Yeah mommy, the kitty’s marks are just like these ones,” her stubby fingers gently traced the old wounds, a look of reverence reflected on her cherubic features. “They make you look like that kitty mommy,” her little voice cooed, “I like them a lot!”

Your muscles constricted at her words, a slight tremor coursing through you as you involuntarily tightened your grip on her. She took note of this, looking up at your strained features with a puzzled expression on her face.

“Don’t be sad mommy,” she spoke assuredly, “I really do like them! I think they are pretty!”

Her words burned you, scorching the inside of your frozen shell of a body, leaving you feeling sickly and discombobulated. The room around you started to spin in a hazy blur, a wave of nausea making you nearly wretch. Your breathing grew erratic as you tried to calm yourself, inwardly repeating that your daughter was just a child, a little girl barely four years of age who had an incredibly limited view of the world. Her words were not meant to upset you. Her opinions were coming from a place of total naivety.

Yet still, the mental assurance did little to help with the extremely uncomfortable position you now founds yourself in. It wasn’t as if this was her first time noticing your scars. She had mentioned them before, her curious mind trying to piece together the reason that her arms appeared different from your own. Each time she brought your old wounds up you couldn’t help but feel flustered, responding with weak explanations and misdirection to try and quickly brush off her questioning.

The marks came from a silly mistake, or a childhood accident, or from a careless moment when mommy should have been paying more attention. It was always excuses on repeat. How many lies had you told her on this topic alone?

But even if they were lies, it beat telling her the truth. You didn’t want to have to explain where the scars on your body actually came from to anyone, let alone a child, and especially not to your own daughter. How could you possibly word it gently, or in a way that she would understand, when you barely understood why you had them yourself? How could you look her in the eye and tell her that these markings were a permanent sign that you had been very, very hurt and that it was her own fathers hands that inflicted the pain?

Reliving the horrific moments that left your body in such a state was overwhelming enough on its own, but to also have to lay bare her father’s sins, relay to her the unsavory proclivities of a man who she idolized and adored, was not something you were keen on doing.

She didn’t know her daddy like you knew him. She was ignorant to the constant state of concern you lived in, unaware of the worries that plagued your mind and kept you up each night. All the troubles of the hell she had been born into were completely lost on the small, carefree girl.

But honestly that was for the best. You had made an unspoken promise the moment she entered your life that you would protect her no matter what. From the day of her birth onward it became your mission to keep her as happy and healthy as possible.

Ren had broken you, but she did not have to suffer the same fate.

At this point in her life, your daughter knew nothing of her daddy’s profession or ‘hobbies’, and you wanted it to remain that way for as long as possible, if not for the rest of her life. You dreaded each time Ren came home from an auction, terrified he may let casually slip too many details about his ‘lively client’ or that he would carelessly step through the door with the stains of his liaisons still littering his clothes. Your daughter was at an age where she was brimming with questions, and she was relentless in getting answers to each question she asked. Everything had to be explained in complete detail for her to be satisfied, drop the subject, and move on. She was a smart little thing, possibly too smart for her own good. You highly doubted a silly joke or wave of the hand would assuage her whirring mind should Ren grow too impetuous in her presence.

And should her questioning become too pesky, you fretted over what Ren’s reaction to it may be. The more you tried to avoid thinking about it the more you seemed to fixate on the topic, pondering just how much goading it would take from your daughter before his temper would rear its ugly head. You, above anyone, had firsthand experience in just how volatile the man could be, the scars that littered your body a testament to his turbulent emotions and violent outbursts.

Looking back on it now, it’s a wonder you survived any of it at all.

Ren often told you he loved you, each confession spoken through honeyed words that spilled from his lips easily and often. And while you didn’t doubt those words (you knew better than to, at this point), you also knew his sweet nothings weren’t merely a term of endearment, they also served as your curse. He loved you, but he also loved your fealty to him, your adoration and worship of him and only him. Should you not reciprocate his feelings as quickly or ardently as he expected, the mere thought of whatever punishment he would concoct was enough to send you into a debilitating panic attack.

There were few things he loathed more than when you flinched from his affection or if you exhibited any sign of distress towards his presence, especially after he had spent so many years going above and beyond to provide for you, devote himself to you. You had learned early on to keel any feelings of aversion you had to his advances, several of your more prominent scars a brutal reminder of that misstep alone.

If your daughter uncovered the truth and saw her father for who he truly was, if she began to fear him the way you feared him, how would he respond? If not only his partner, but his own daughter started shying away from him, what length would he go to to correct this behavior?

Dwelling on it made your skin crawl.

But perhaps all of your worries were asinine. Despite his inclination for cruelty, Ren had never so much as raised a hand towards your daughter, even when she did act up. If anything, he was overprotective of her, barely letting her move faster than a brisk jog lest she fall and hurt herself. He hated seeing his little girl experience even a modicum of physical pain, mentioning to you previously that were he able, he’d keep her locked up in a padded room all day and night to prevent any foreseeable accidents or injuries. Surely it was just his idea of a joke, but the insinuation still made you cringe.

It was almost comical, just how greatly the manifestation of his affection for her differed from how he showed his love for you.

His domineering nature shielded her from experiencing any true pain. Every scrape, bruise, and cut she ever received was superficial, nothing that caused major bleeding or left a lasting impression. She had no way of knowing what had been done to you to cause the scars that marred your form, the torment and hell you experienced with each slash, smack, burn. Hell, she probably didn’t even really understand what a scar actually was. All she knew was that her mommy and daddy had strange marks on their skin that didn’t follow any kind of set pattern, weird jagged lines and indents that her soft skin was curiously free from. The mystery of it all was as puzzling to her young mind as it was enticing.

However, some mysteries were best left unsolved, and just as with each other time she brought up this hot topic, you found yourself unable to look into her clear, bright eyes and tell her any semblance of the truth. She may have been forced upon you, but she was your daughter. You loved her, and you refused to be the one to shatter her innocence. You would keep her ignorant for as long as possible, shielding her to the endless nightmare of your daily lives, even if it cost you your sanity.

“Mommy,” her voice jarred you, dragging you from your thoughts, “mommy did you hear me? I said I think they are pretty!”

“T-that’s… I…” You stuttered, struggling to find the right words to say, your voice coming out much smaller than you intended it to. The room felt like it had dropped thirty degrees, your body twitching in response to the sudden chill.

“Daddy told me he gave some of them to you, like this one,” her pudgy, cold finger pressed into the faded heart that resided on your chest, the first of many indelible sins he had etched onto your form. Only the top half of the carved symbol was viewable above the collar of your shirt, so she tugged at the loose hem until she could see it in its horrible entirety.

“Daddy said he gave you this one because he loves you so much,” her voice grew quiet, a thoughtful look in her eye as they drank in wounds you wished you could forget, “Daddy loves me too, right mommy? You think he’ll give me a cute heart someday too?”

You felt as if you had been hit by a train.

“S-top,” the words were forced from your throat, airy and breathless, as if someone was wringing your neck to make them come out, “p-please, just stop talking.”

“What did you say mama,” your daughters sing-song voice responded as her fingers continued to trace and prod your scars, “You are whispering, is it a secret?”

“I told you to SHUT UP!”

As if following your command, your booming voice instantly silenced the small girl. Unused to such a violent outburst from her mother, her happy-go-lucky nature quickly shifted to one of alert, her tiny body going rigid as she stared up at you with fearful eyes.

Seeing her in such a state and knowing that you were the cause of it would normally have killed you inside, making you fall to your knees to beg for the child’s forgiveness. But right now, the thin thread that had been holding you together had snapped, and your words rushed out in a torrent you couldn’t begin to quell.

“Shut up, shut up, shut UP!” You seethed, clasping your hands to your ears to try and block out your own intrusive voice, “Just STOP TALKING about it! What are you even saying? Why would you ever want to look like this?!”

Tears started to flood your eyes, blurring the image of the girl who had quickly jumped from your lap and was now cowering before you. Through your bleary vision, you could see tears were brimming her eyes as well.

“You… You have no idea,” your voice warbled, shaking in equal parts grief and frustration, “You have no clue what you are saying, so just STOP IT. KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT AND DON’T YOU DARE SPEAK OF IT AGAIN!”

You slunk from the chair down to the floor, burying your face in your cold, stiff hands. The soft blubbering of your daughter could be heard through your own sobbing.

“I-I’m sorry mommy. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Hearing her broken voice began to shatter the spell you had been under, instant regret jerking you roughly back to reality. Your head sunk lower, your body scrunching itself up as tightly as possible to hide from this cruel reality.

Your screams were born from deeply buried feelings of hatred, tucked far, far away as a means of self-preservation. For a moment, you felt as if you despised your daughter, her existence tethering you to this wretched excuse of a life, binding you irrevocably to Ren. But as you lifted your heavy head, glancing up to stare into her young face, a face so very similar to your own, a face contorted in panic and sadness over her mother’s abrupt descent into madness… you realized it wasn’t her that you hated.

It was yourself.

Your daughter didn’t deserve this. She deserved normalcy. She deserved a father that didn’t pose a threat to her. She deserved a mother that wasn’t ruined by his hands. She deserved a happy and untroubled life, not to be stuck being raised in a barbed cage, navigating her way through life with nothing but the shattered remains of a battered woman to guide her.

“I’m so sorry,” you choked under the weight of your overwhelming emotions, snot and tears running freely down your ruddy cheeks and chin, “I’m so, so sorry baby…”

“What the hell is going on?”

You hadn’t heard the front door open, nor had you heard Ren’s jubilant greeting as he entered your home. He had no doubt been upset by the lack of welcome-it was one thing to be ignored by a child, but his doting wife? That was not something he was not apt to look past.

But surely any feelings of annoyance or frustration fled from his mind the moment he entered the room, his eyes falling upon your crumpled, messy form collapsed on the floor. You cursed his arrival, upset that he entered the scene at such a compromising time, right as you were struggling to regain an ounce of composure and properly apologize to the little girl who had done nothing wrong.

“D-daddy,” your daughter’s voice warbled as she barreled towards him, colliding into his waiting embrace. You wiped at your face in a desperate attempt to hide your previous outpouring of emotions, doing your best to avoid eye contact with Ren as his sharp gaze quickly flicked from you, to his daughter.

This had already become enough of a scene without Ren’s interference, it was best to try and begin damage control now.

“Daddy I-I made mommy cry!” Tears continued to pour from your daughter’s eyes, her face twisting into a look of pure dismay. Her misguided admission of guilt made you recoil, knowing full well it would grant her no favors with the person she seeking comfort from. “I’m really sorry daddy! I didn’t mean to!”

After several endless seconds of silence, Ren spoke.

“… You made her cry?”

His voice was far sharper than it needed to be, further agitating the precarious state of affairs. In most cases he would have offered your daughter leniency, letting her get away with far more than she probably should. However that leniency was null and void if you ended up suffering in the process. Ren could not forgive anyone that caused you any duress (himself, of course, being the exemption) even if that person was his own flesh and blood.

“What do you mean you made her cry? What the hell did you do to her?”

“I-I don’t know,” she wailed, a fresh wave of tears spurred on by the accusatory tone of her father’s voice, “I just told mommy I thought her marks were pretty and then she started crying! I wasn’t lying daddy, I like them! I think they make mommy look really pretty!”

“Her marks…?” Ren’s look of vexation began to dissipate as the meaning of her words donned on him. He lifted his arm, rolling up his sleeve to reveal his own scars to the little girl. Pointing a clawed finger to them, he leaned down until he was looking her in the eye, “You mean like these?”

As she nodded her head vigorously in confirmation, Ren tutted, “That’s the reason for all the water works? An innocent compliment started all this fussing?” He scoffed, shaking his head, “Isn’t that a little bit… silly?

You tensed at the sound of his barking laugh, your frown deepening as an amused grin spread wider across his lips. You wished that you could say it was shocking for him to have such disregard after finding the two of you in such an agitated state, but it was painfully in character of him to shrug off your misery and suffering as inconsequential. How he could so nonchalantly normalize this hellish situation he kept you and your child ensnared in, you would never understand.

Your daughter was apparently sharing similar thoughts, as her face began to once more morph into a pre-sobbing scowl. She was no doubt wounded that her father was not offering her the comfort she was seeking, her emotional state already greatly weakened by her mother’s venomous tantrum.

To help quell another round of tears, Ren pulled the child closer, wrapping her up in his arms so that her tiny form was nearly enveloped by him. “Shhh, no more tears angel,” he cooed sweetly, patting her head gently to appease her, “There isn’t any reason to cry, especially because… Well, you’re right! Mommy’s whole body is pretty, isn’t it? Her marks just compliment the beauty that’s already there.”

Slowly but surely, her tears began to dissipate. Hunched over shoulders loosened, and sniffles and hiccups gave way to even breathing. Like clockwork, her father’s gentle handling soothed her, the same touch that destroyed you offering her salvation.

As if under a spell, the turmoil that had overcome your daughter quickly began to vanish, her sobbing fading into quiet sniffles. Once she was fully calmed, Ren continued speaking, “That’s all you meant to say to mommy, right angel? I’m sorry she took it the wrong way, she’s probably just tired or hungry, you know how mommy gets. She’ll get over it in no time flat!”

Heat spread through your body at his flippant dismissal of your feelings, an indignant blush lighting your cheeks as you gripped your hands tightly at your side. Your previous emotional episode left you all but drained, but your will to fight back against his callous commentary could never truly be contained.

“In fact, I bet she is already over it now,” Ren’s voice took on a jovial tone as he directed his focus solely on you, “Aren’t you, pumpkin?”

With the ball suddenly in your court, you flinched as both sets of expectant eyes fell on you. Your own eyes darted from Ren’s piercing glare, down to your daughter’s wide-eyed look of unbridled hope. You felt much like the rabbit that had been caught by the fox, stuck in a lose-lose situation. Seeing him hunched over her small body as she clutched to him as a life line, openly concerned that her mother may once more reject her while her father remained a bastion of strength and understanding, left you reeling. Either you would get heated again and stay the villain, but possibly hold on to an ounce of your dignity, or concede to Ren and have yet another piece of your soul wither away and die-the price to pay so that your daughter could remain in blissful ignorance for another day.

“Aren’t you, pumpkin?” He repeated himself slowly, enunciating each word. The kindness in his voice serving only as a mask for the threat buried beneath.

“Y-yes,” you responded quickly, shooting them both a smile you hoped was convincing, “I am very sorry, baby. Daddy is right. Mommy is just… tired.”

A serene smile lit her face, your words placating her. Seeing her happy once more helped relieve a bit of the ache in your own heart, making the lie worth it.

“Good, good,” Ren affirmed with a nod, carefully detaching himself from your daughter as he stood, “but you know little one, mommy deserves some love too, don’t you think? She may have been in the wrong, but it’s not nice to make her cry like that. Why don’t you go give her a hug, hm?”

With no further persuading necessary, she quickly padded over to you, hopping on your lap with so much enthusiasm that it nearly knocked the wind from you. Her arms tightly latched around your torso as she smushed her face into your chest, rubbing it back and forth like she was trying to burrow beneath your skin.

“I love you mommy,” her voice spoke clearly, any hint of previous sadness long gone. You sighed, relieved that this dramatic chapter was over as you pulled your daughter closer to you.

“I love you too.”

During this show of affection, Ren had made his way behind you, slinking so deftly you hadn’t even known he had moved until you heard him chuckle softly behind you.

“This is what I like to see,” he spoke with a sickeningly dreamy sigh, “nothing makes me happier than when my two girls are happy.”

He placed his hands gingerly atop your shoulders, trailing them down until they rested on your arms. His thumbs pressed gently against the marred skin, rubbing in a small circular motion in an attempt to subdue you. His claws grazed your flesh, uncomfortably scratching against you as they snagged against your skin.

He planted a firm and lingering kiss to the side of your head, pulling away just enough that his lips grazed the shell of your ear. “There really was nothing to cry about,” he whispered breathily, his words quiet enough that despite your daughters’ proximity, she would have no chance of hearing them. “It’s almost unfair how gorgeous you are, scars and all. But you must know that, right my sweet pet? I tell you all the time.”

Ren took in a deep breath, releasing it in a shaky sigh, “Seeing these scars reminds me of all we have been through, all that we share. They are a symbol of our bond.”

One of his claws pressed down sharply, a small bead of blood pooling around the piercing. Leisurely he began to drag his finger up your arm, a thin red line following in its wake. You shivered at the burning sensation, but deigned to give him any reaction further than that.

“Don’t forget pumpkin, these pretty marks are a reminder of my constant love for you.” He chuckled softly, peppering a few kisses to the back of your neck while his claws slowly sunk deeper, “And right now I am feeling terribly sentimental, so for old times’ sake, why don’t I add a few more to remind you just how precious to me you are~?”

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queen-of-the-avengers · 5 months ago

Text

Make The Most Out Of A Bad Situation

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.1k

Warnings: minor angst

Summary: Bucky comes to your rescue even though you didn’t ask for it. He punishes you even though you did nothing to deserve it. He kisses you even if it’s supposed to be wrong.

Squares Filled: plums (2020) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

I can’t believe I’m here right now. All I want to do is go home and snuggle in bed where I can watch movie after movie. But no. You can’t really blame Natasha. Her boyfriend is the one who is thrown this party with his best friend who just so happens to be your enemy. You and Bucky have never gotten along, even before Nat and Steve started dating. You don’t want to ask her to leave knowing she came with you. You don’t think she’d mind but she hasn’t seen him in a while and you don’t want to take that from her.

The party scene isn’t really what you’re into, so you decided to take a walk around the ten-acre property. You’ve been to this house plenty of times so you know it like the back of your hand, which is why you’re toward the back where there is this small pond that freezes over in the wintertime. You like to sneak onto the property and go ice skating when you can, and you haven’t been caught yet.

The music can be heard from where you are but it’s faint which gives you some time to think with a clear head. Bucky and Steve bought this property when they were in their early twenties and have taken care of it ever since. They have beautiful plum trees that you love to snack on, and you grab one that is hanging low for the taking. You take a big bite and moan at the delicious taste.

You toss the scraps onto the ground knowing small animals will come to feed off it. This place is notorious for deer passing through it. Not now. Not when there is a major party going on. Speaking of, you should really get back. You’re the one who drove here but maybe Natasha won’t mind staying here and letting Steve take her home. You start to head back when three guys come out from the tree line. You’d be scared if you didn’t know who all three of them were.

They’re Bucky’s annoying and arrogant friends.

“What are you guys doing here?” you ask and stop walking.

“See? I told you she’d be out here. All alone like a fucking loser.”

“Yeah, good one,” you roll your eyes.

You try to get past them but they won’t let you go that easily.

“Whoa, where are you going? Stay. Hang out with us,” one of them chuckles.

“No thanks.”

“What an ungrateful bitch, guys. Care to show her what we do to ungrateful bitches?”

On of them grabs your arm tightly and begins to drag you to the pond.

“I hope you love to swim.” That’s when panic sets in. You try tog et away and that makes the man holler in victory. “I think she wants to go for a swim!”

“No, don’t, please!”

You never learned how to swim. You didn’t have a pool growing up, and your parents were too busy to take you to swim lessons. You never liked the water so you never had a desire to learn to swim. Man, you’re regretting that decision right about now.

“Hey.” Everyone turns to see Bucky coming out from behind the trees. “Knock it off. The bitch can’t swim so if you plan on drowning her, do it elsewhere.”

“Whatever. Come on guys. She’s not worth it,” one of them say.

All three of them walk away, leaving you and Bucky by the pond.

“I could have handled that, you know. I didn't need saving, asshole.”

Bucky takes two long strides over to you before pushing you into the warm waters below.

“How about now, doll?” he smirks.

Flight or fight kicks in, and you kick your legs to try and keep your head above water. However, its not working and you’re sinking faster than you’re floating. Seconds later, hands are grabbing your arms and pulling you out of the water. As soon as your feet are planted on solid ground, you must up every ounce of strength and shove Bucky away from you.

“You’re a dick! I’m out of here.”

“With what car?”

His words make you stop in your tracks, and you flip your hair over your shoulder.

“My car.”

“I’ll drive you home. Come on.”

Bucky walks past you but you don’t move an inch.

“If you think I’m going anywhere with you, you’re sorely mistaken.”

Bucky smirks and reaches into his pocket only to pull out your car keys. What the hell? You feel your pockets and your keys are missing. He must have taken them when he pulled you from the pond.

“It’s not what I think, Doll, it’s what I know. You’re stuck with me until I say otherwise.”

“Give me my keys.” You storm over to him and try to grab it from him but he moves his hands to a height you can’t reach. “What are you, five?” You try again but receive the same reaction. “Fine. Keep them. Shove them up your ass for all I care. I’ll walk home.”

“Take one more step and I’ll gladly throw your ass back in the water.”

You turn to face Bucky and with a smirk, you take one more step back. Bucky moves faster than you can process, and he throws you over his shoulder. You know exactly what is going to happen so this time, you prepare yourself. Bucky tosses you back into the water but instead of going in alone, you make sure to bring Bucky with you. You cling to his clothes and drag him under with you.

He is a whopping six foot man while you’re much shorter than that, so he can stand comfortably on the bottom of the pond and still have his head above water. You wrap your legs around his waist and cling to him like a dryer square on pants. Bucky’s hands go under your ass to keep you there, and you two stare into each other eyes.

“That’s what you get for tossing me--”

Bucky cuts you off and plants his lips over yours in a searing kiss. Never have you ever thought you’d be kissing Bucky Barnes but now that you are, you have no idea why you weren't doing this before. All the pent-up tension and hate turns into passion and lust. His hands claw at your clothes, you fist your hands in his hair, and his lips leave a hot imprint on your skin.

“No, we can’t do this,” you pull away, breathless.

The look in his eyes tells you that he doesn’t care. You lean in again and kiss him, this time with feeling. This might be a one-time thing and if so, you’re going to make the best out of a bad situation.

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

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callme-holly · 18 days ago

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Hiiii, could you do the Outsiders x reader who's obsessed with cats? Like, she's always petting random stray cats she sees and is begging to take them home. And I love your writing! 😊😊

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐱 𝐜𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐚/𝐧: I'm getting back into the flow now, y'all. Please keep sending in requests!

Darry Curtis:

Darry doesn’t mind cats; he’s never really had a strong opinion on them; they’re just sort of existing, you know? It isn’t until he meets you that he starts paying more attention to them. He’ll stop and watch you fondly as he pets random cats in the street, and he won't complain when you bring them over to say hello to them. He isn’t against having a cat, but he isn’t sure he can handle having one in the house with their current financial situation, so he’s pretty firm when it comes to you bringing strays back home. “No way. We can’t afford it right now.” Maybe one day, when money isn’t so tight, he might relent and get you a cat, but don’t hold him to it.

Sodapop Curtis:

Soda fully supports your love for cats and will stop with you on the street to greet every single stray. He’s the type to pick up little kittens and hand them to you, just to see you smile. He’s always up for trying to convince Darry to let you keep one and will occasionally sneak one in to surprise you, hiding it away from Darry and feeding it scraps from dinner. If you were to get a cat, he’d probably choose a stupid name for it and insist on carrying it around like a baby.

Ponyboy Curtis:

Pony understands your fondness for cats; they’re quiet, independent, and make pretty good company. He often stops with you, watching as you pet the strays, and might occasionally get down to fuss over one himself, scratching their chin and ears. Sometimes, he’ll sit in the lot with you, sketching the cats and gifting the drawings to you. If you beg him to take one home, he’ll be pretty reluctant, not wanting to face Darry with the question. So instead, he compromises, telling you that you can go out and feed them, and that they can stay in the backyard in the shed.

Johnny Cade:

Much like you, Johnny is naturally drawn to the strays, mostly from how much he hangs around the lot. He’s probably befriended his fair share of cats from all the nights he’s spent there and has no trouble going to visit them with you. He’ll gladly feed them and fuss over them, letting them rub around him and paw at his jeans. He loves how gentle you are with animals and admires how much you love them. He starts bringing treats in his back pocket for them, just in case you find a new cat to befriend. If there’s a cat you’re particularly drawn to, he’ll help you make a little shelter for it and will go with you to feed it every day.

Dallas Winston: Dally isn’t particularly fond of cats and would much rather ignore them than fuss over them. He’ll constantly tease you for fawning over the strays, but secretly he probably thinks it’s a little sweet. He’ll act too cool to care, but the more he hangs around with you (and the cats), the more he finds himself absentmindedly tossing them scraps of food. He might even surprise you by bringing you a tiny, scruffy kitten he’d rescued from a rough situation, tossing it into your lap like it’s no big deal. He refuses to take care of it though; the feeding and other shit is all down to you, and no way in hell is it allowed to sit in his lap.

Steve Randle:

Steve thinks your obsession with cats is amusing and never fails to make little jabs and jokes about it, calling you the “cat whisperer.” But, deep down, he loves the strays just as much as you and will do as much as he can to keep them safe. If you beg him to take one home, he’ll relent after a while, creating a little bed/crate for it that stays in the garage of the DX. The cat soon becomes one of those pets that hangs around constantly, sitting on top of the cars he’s working on and lounging on the backseat of his car whenever he leaves the door open.

Two-Bit Mathews:

Two totally understands your love for the cats. If the two of you are out together, he’s showing you all the cats and befriending them right alongside you. He’ll crouch down and call out to the strays, petting them and scratching under their chin. He’s probably the first to suggest sneaking a cat home, wrapping it up in his jacket, and carrying it along like a little baby. If a cat likes him more than you, he will rub it in and make your life hell over it.

#the outsiders x reader #darry curtis imagine #darry curtis headcanons #darry curtis x reader #darrel curtis x reader #dallas winston x reader #dally winston x reader #dallas winston imagine #steve randle x reader #johnny cade x reader #sodapop curtis x reader #soda curtis x reader #sodapop x reader #ponyboy x reader #ponyboy curtis x reader #pony curtis x reader #two bit matthews x reader #two bit x reader #two bit mathews x reader

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bougainvillea-and-saltwater · 4 days ago

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GIGI!! Give us some domestic Miraak HCs. Weird Things That Weird Man Does Around The House.

Doggie for attention

OUGH HELLO, HELLO, MY FRIEND, AND PLEASE FORGIVE ME FOR THE DELAY! I WAS SO HAPPY TO SEE YOUR ASK, BUT GAH, THE HORRORS—

Okay, alright. BEHOLD. Domesticated Miraak Made By Gigi™.

Miraak is fascinated by “mundane” items which he hoards compulsively. For example, spoons, buttons, scraps of fabric, and as a dragon through and through, anything shiny. He once built a tiny shrine out of empty glass jars, claiming they “radiate a strange essence”—it was just his dramatic way of describing their transparency.

His time in Apocrypha has left its mark. Miraak mutters to walls and furniture as if they’re sentient. “You’ve done well holding up the roof today,” he says to a wooden beam while he pats it with his hand thoughtfully. He might argue with the bookshelves, too, insisting they’re judging his choice of reading material.

Miraak has a compulsive need to organize everything into scrolls or piles of paper, even when it’s not practical. Grocery lists? Written on parchment with the most elegant quill he, of course, will craft, and sealed with wax. A love letter to Jia? Encrypted in Dragon Tongue and then stored in triplicate.

His morning routine involves chanting hymns like an Orthodox Priest, meditating, and “consulting the winds” (aka opening a window and divining how the weather’s going to be, blessed by Kyne as he is). If someone interrupts him, he declares the day ruined and probably sulks for hours.

If there are any creatures in the household, Miraak is convinced they hold ancient wisdom, and he’ll do whatever he can to take care of them. Milking Miss Hilda, Jia’s cow? Check. Shoeing Queen Alfsigr’s hooves, Jia’s horse? Check. Collecting the eggs from her chickens? Check. Feeding her swallows up on the roof and tending to their nests and their hatchlings? Check. Whistling in the wind and drawing Various Animals in Heljarchen Hall like he’s some sort of Gandalf Calling on Shadowfax? Check. I can just go on forever. He’s a huge, huge nature lover.

He’ll never admit it, but Miraak finds cleaning meditative. There’s something satisfying about imposing order on chaos. However, his “cleaning” often involves rearranging things into strangely symmetrical patterns—lucky for him, Jia does this as well all the time, so I only pity Lydia and Gregor who have to endure their obsession somehow...🥲

My Miraak isn’t the best at cooking at first—BUT! He learns from the very best, Jia, and he’s eager and quick to learn. Eventually, he treats cooking like a battle. He wields kitchen tools like sacred artifacts and narrates his every move in a grandiose tone. “Worry not, soul of my soul,” he tells Jia. “The Dragonborn of your kitchen shall tame this unruly potato.” He’s surprisingly good at it, though his meals tend to involve unnecessarily elaborate plating.

bonus headcanon because this ask made me unhinged: Miraak, when he manages to sleep, sleeps Weirdly. Blame it on the Dragonborn-ism and the otherworldly essence of his dreams in general, but either way, the man simply sleeps upright sometimes, while other nights, he’ll attempt to “connect with the Gods” by lying flat on the ground outside Heljarchen Hall, arms crossed over his chest, staring at a skyful of stars. It freaks Jia out when she finds him like this, but then again... She might join him herself... Don't mind her if she does...🤔

#okay i stop here because the more i think about this ask the more Domesticated Miraak comes to my mind aND I'LL NEVER EVER STOP—#LATHE YOU JUST ACTIVATED THE ROT™ AND NOW I ROTATE HIM IN MARCH SPEED IN MY HEAD #might return to this post with More. a promise and a threat 🫵#asks #miraak

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flowerbetweenfangs · 9 months ago

Text

Marked by the Moon: Part 02

This is part two of a previous story, which you can read here!

Originally posted on A03

(CW for Dubcon in part one. Part 02 does discuss infertility and there is an animal harm in a dream. If anything else needs to be tagged, let me know)

Carmen stared at the face of the older man and her breathing became labored. The thoughts of the night before clawed their way out, making her stomach drop. He rose up, rubbing his eyes. She could see small red lines across his back. Looking down at her fingers, she saw the small bits of dried blood under her nails.

Her throat closed up, and she started to scoot away.

No.

What happened couldn’t have possibly been real. But the way her body felt, the scents in the air, and the fact that she had already woken up meant that it had to be true.

Esau sniffed. In the silence of the cave, the noise was amplified. His nose and brow wrinkled, his jaw setting.

“What the?” He turned around, the bewilderment clear on his face. She saw the silver ring on his shoulder, indicating a bite mark.

Getting to her feet, Carmen looked around the den. The only thing she had on her was the necklace, which felt like a lead weight trying to drag her back to the ground. She could see scraps of fabric across the floor. Her clothes. The only thing she could even recognize as a piece of an outfit was her shirt, but the edges were torn and frayed.

She ran, her body protesting every movement.

“Carmen!” He yelled after her, but she put the voice out of her head.

The world around her became a blur and Carmen’s vision swam. As she ran, every noise sounded like it was coming through the end of a tube, echoing and buzzing directly into her ears. The scents of the reserve were strong, as if each bit of flora was being shoved directly into her nostrils. Gagging, Carmen fell to her knees and tried to catch her breath.

Cradling her head, Carmen fell into the fetal position. How could last night have happened? Werewolves were real? Several had spoken to her. One had…

The thought made her heave. Her body was shaking and sweating, her injured arm burning like it had been dipped in liquid fire.

When she managed to get her wind back, she brought down her hands and saw the statue above her. Worn down and in need of some restoration, but she recognized the crescent moon mask and wolf across the woman’s lap.

“Please.” She said, grabbing it by the base and pressing her forehead to it, “I need some answers. Give them to me.” Shivering, she felt the stone become slick in her fingers. Small vines and thorns pricked at her skin and she finally let go.

The woman’s voice had vanished from the wind.

A scent on the wind made her turn, pressing her cheek against the base.

The hair was ginger and shaggy, covering his face with a beard, with the lupine eyes she’d looked into enough times to recognize them on sight. But he was a man now, maybe in his late twenties, like Carmen. He’d dressed in a simple baggy shirt with a faded sports logo and basketball shorts.

And he made a rage boil over in her stomach and heart. Clenching her jaw and fists, she tasted blood and saw red.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” He asked, looking at the statue.

Carmen was on him in an instant, slamming her fists into him and screaming with a primal fury she didn’t even realize was possible. He snarled, snapping at her with teeth just long enough to not be human.

“Hey!”

Carmen was yanked off him. Her hands clawed at the air, her feet kicking at the empty space being created.

Esau’s scent overpowered her nose, his arms wrapped securely around her torso and pulling her away. She fought against him, slamming the heels of her palms into his wrists and twisting her body, howling with rage. The strange sounds scraped her throat raw.

A dark haired and bearded man was grabbing onto the ginger, hauling him back. Both were now sporting scratches and bruises. His scent hit Carmen, she felt herself trying to place it. Snapping her jaw, she continued to thrash and try to get free of Esau’s grip.

Esau was breathing heavily, his whole body sweaty against Carmen’s. For an old man, he certainly had a strength she wasn’t expecting. His fingers dug into her, and she could feel his nails, curved and sharp.

“Enough!” He said, his voice dropping to a pitch that made Carmen’s ears hurt. It almost made her want to drop flat against the ground. The sound seemed to rattle her very being, threatening to break her open.

“You’re hurting yourself.” And it was gone, his tone more gentle.

Carmen looked down and saw her sutures had burst open. The pain that she’d pushed back registered, and she felt her whole body shaking again.

“Give her your shirt.” Esau slowly let Carmen go. She fell to her knees on the ground. Blood dribbled from her arm, the drops staining the grass below.

The bearded man walked over, offering up the balled up shirt to her. Taking it, she hugged the article of clothing to her chest. Almost as if on cue, she could hear them turning away so she could dress in privacy.

Despite being taller than most women, Carmen still found the shirt hanging almost to her knees.

The scent of the dark haired man overpowered her, and she finally placed him. The beard had aged him, but the smell was familiar because he had been at the clinic only a couple days prior, pulling the wolf away just an instant too late. Max. His name had been Max. He’d signed the paperwork.

Taking a few deep breaths, she got to her feet. How far did all of this go? Before she could think, her head began to pound.

“Listen here,” The ginger got back in her face, his eyes flashing with fury. “Don’t think just because you’re a-”

“Quit!” Esau barked, his voice dropping low again. Carmen could hear the click of his teeth as they snapped together. “This is your fault, Peter.”

“He’s right.” Max finally spoke up. “You were the dumbass who was running through bear territory. And you fucking tried to bite her!” Carmen wondered if he’d been so harsh with Anna.

Peter’s eyes flickered, losing the hunter’s glint and his pupils dilating. Carmen was sure that if he still had his tail, it would be lowered into submission. His whole body shifted and he pressed himself closer to the ground.

“How was I supposed to know there would be traps there? It’s not hunting season.” Peter scowled. “Although having a bunch of rednecks attempt drunk triage on me in the bed of the pick up truck was an adventure.”

Carmen was about to lecture him on how rules and laws didn’t deter people from still doing illegal things, but she held her tongue. How had she been so worried for him less than a day ago?

Her arm stung and she yanked back, before realizing it was Esau trying to check her for injuries. His fingers were tinted red with her blood.

Holding his hand to her, Esau let out a deep breath, his whole body going slack. When he looked up, he just looked exhausted.

“Can I look at your arm, please? I want to make sure it’s not going to get infected.”

Reluctantly, she held it out to him.

Having the man touch her again made her squirm, knowing he’d been a monster only a few hours before. But aside from the hirsute body and slightly elongated nails, he looked no different than the doctor from the clinic.

Taking Carmen’s arm, Esau tilted it back and forth, before rubbing his face. His jaw clenched and unclenched as he glared at Peter.

“There’s a first aid kit in the visitor center. I can patch you up.” He sighed. “I know you’ve probably got a thousand questions, and I can hopefully answer some of them. Just… Come with us, please?”

Mouth dry, Carmen nodded. What could she even do at this point?

“Are you two the only ones who decided to stay human?” Esau asked as they went down the hill.

“Reluctantly.” Peter snarled as he walked ahead. “Diana would have probably let me die if I stayed in my wolf form.” He tilted his head side to side and cracked his neck. “I thought you wanted to actually kill me when you struck me last night. Some leader.”

Esau shot him a look, and the younger man visibly shrunk back into Max.

“Someone’s got to work at the reserve.” The dark haired agent said, “Did you get shaving cream this time?” He scratched his face. “I look too much like a mountain man with this scruff.”

“How many of you are there?” Carmen asked, walking into the visitor center. The scent hit her. The barest amount of nature to set off a human nose and make them feel closer to the forest around them, but compared to outside, it was… Bare.

“Half a dozen werewolves.” Esau said as he went to the front office. “And a dozen actual wolves. We can pick which form we want to stay in at the full moon, but I try to urge people to stay in one or the other because people going missing can be… Noticeable. And the wolves get stressed if they lose and gain pack members too rapidly.”

He looked through the cabinets as Peter went to the cafeteria, a stove firing up. The scent of meat made Carmen’s mouth water. She looked down at her hand when she felt liquid and saw a silvery puddle of drool forming around her palm. Wiping her mouth, she shook her head. What on earth was going on with her.

Max let the sink run in the bathroom, starting to shave. He was humming a tune she could place, but the lyrics wouldn’t come.

“You said last night you try to keep the social circle small.” She wanted to ask him about their… Other activities, but couldn’t bring herself to do it. Esau couldn’t meet her eyes. Was he feeling the same way she was?

“Yes.” Esau finally found the first aid kit, setting it on the desk next to him and holding out his hand for Carmen. Sighing, she let him take her arm and start to work. “Because otherwise things like this happen.” He sniffed, the confusion coming back to his face.

“There’s normally a more formal vetting process, to make sure we’re not changing someone who has a young child at home or has a lifestyle that won’t allow them to make the change.” He sighed, before glowering in the direction of the kitchen.

“Or changing someone literally days before the full moon and then having them run around as a crazy monster of fangs and claws with no preparation. The fact that you didn’t start chasing down random people and animals is a miracle.” He swallowed, taking care to dab at her arm and clean off any dirt and dried blood.

“The first few months are rough, but if you have a pack then it becomes easier and you’re able to keep your mind.” Turning toward the kitchen, he gave a nod. “That’s why we took in Peter. Although he’s still learning to be a team player.”

Swallowing, Carmen stared at the desk in silence outside of a wince or a hiss as Esau applied the disinfectant to her arm. What would have happened if Anna had been the one scratched instead of her?

“When you visited me at the Urgent Care, I saw the wound, but I couldn’t smell the wolf inside you.” He continued to explain, before he finished bandaging up her arm.

The phrasing gave her pause.

“Wait, smell the wolf inside me?” Carmen asked, flexing her fingers. “The one you were trying to make come out?”

Esau clicked his tongue. “When you’re bitten, the wolf inside you starts to wake up, becoming stronger the closer you are to the full moon.” He frowned.

“It’s like… having two minds able to control you, but only one of you gets to be in the driver’s seat at a time.” He held up two fingers, waving both up and down. “I assumed that since you were only scratched, that meant that Peter wasn’t able to infect you.”

“I was just thinking we had to add something to break up the sausage party.” Peter said as he came out of the kitchen, a plate piled high with food. “Welcome to the pack, girlie. You’re the first bitch we’ve ha-”

Carmen glowered at him and he withered under her look, mouth opening and closing without sound. Muttering to himself, he set the plate on the desk and walked back into the kitchen, legs slightly bent, an invisible tail curling between them.

“ Normally,” Esau emphasized. “But so far, it’s been the farthest thing from normal in this whole process.” He rubbed his face, shot a dirty look at Peter, then shook his head with a sigh. “I understand you’re probably feeling all sorts of… Everything. But you’re in this now, and there’s nothing we can do about it. I’m sorry. And I can’t say it enough.”

Carmen stared at the food, then felt her stomach heave. Fatigue, disgust, and sickness all warred, before the nausea finally won out.

Max yelped as she shoved past him into the bathroom, kneeling down at the toilet and vomiting her guts out. Her whole body shook with fatigue and she pressed her forehead against the bowl. Max carefully put down the razor.

“... You want me to hold your hair back?” Water ran and Max toweled off his face, suddenly very interested in the wall.

Carmen shook her head. With a noise of understanding, Max stepped out of the bathroom. Then, a moment later, he tossed in a pair of boxers through the door and retreated again.

After what felt like forever, Carmen drug herself out of the bathroom, boxers now on. The three men had eaten most of the food from the plate.

“So what do we do now?” Her stomach flipped, but she knew there was nothing left. Picking up a slice of toast, she forced herself to eat it. Esau handed her a water bottle, which she sipped.

“Back to normal life.” Esau shrugged. “Make sure everyone is healthy, then meet up again next month.” He looked over at Peter. “Although I’m going to have a new roommate for the next cycle.”

“Not my fault,” Peter said without looking up from his food. “Someone decided to throw me off a cliff and make me shift to my human form.”

Carmen and Esau both shot him a dirty look, and he got up and headed back to the kitchen with the dirty dishes.

“I’m going home.” Max announced. “My roommate is worried sick about me. I keep getting texts.” He looked at Carmen and sighed.

“You can uh… Keep those.” He gestured to the clothing and exited the Reserve, putting the phone to his ear.

Carmen looked at Esau, who set a keyring on the table. Carmen realized it was hers. Taking it, she went to shove them in her pockets, then remembered there wasn’t any on the boxers.

“I’m sorry about everything.” Esau said insistently. “I know it’s a lot to take in. But I also need to remind you that you can’t go telling everyone about what happened last night.” Looking down at the table, he sighed.

“Not only would no one believe you, but those that would are the type of people we need to keep out of the pack.” He swallowed, eyes flicking back and forth between her and the wound.

“Look, about what went down.” Swallowing hard, he pinched the bridge of his nose and then looked up at the ceiling.

“I don’t have a good excuse for myself. I don’t take women into the pack for that reason. Because the full moon triggers a heat cycle in you and it can be painful if…” He suddenly looked very flustered. “Well, that doesn’t happen. As you found out.”

He scratched nervously at the desktop, scraping up shavings of wood.

“While most others can control themselves, I never wanted to try and take that chance.” He rubbed the side of his head, “I understand if you can’t forgive me, nor do I expect you to. I can offer you apologies and a safe place to change each month.” He leaned against the desk.

“I promise I will do what I can to make this right.”

The events of last night finally cascaded, hitting her all at once. Carmen looked at the desk, seeing the tears landing on the wooden surface.

Covering her face, Carmen clenched a fist and felt the rage and sorrow swirling inside. How could one event cause such a ripple effect? What would she even tell everyone when she came back to the clinic?

“Is it safe for me to go home?” Her sides heaved. “I don’t… I don’t have anyone there but myself. But I don’t want to suddenly wolf out and destroy my apartment.” She made a growling noise and wiggled her fingers like claws.

Esau nodded, wincing at her impression. “The change only happens at the full moon.”

Carmen then licked her lips, the thoughts rattling around in her mind. “You mentioned that the full moon triggers a heat in female wolves…” Her breathing was shaky and she felt the toast about to come back up again.

“Does that mean that they can get pregnant?” Each word was a chore to push back her lips. Dreading the answer, Carmen stared at him. The desk seemed to groan against the grip she had on it.

Esau’s eyes went wide, and he quickly shook his head. “No. The only way we can increase our numbers is through the bite.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I’m… Sorry if you had plans to do that.”

Carmen felt relief wash over her.

“Oh, thank god.” She pressed her forehead to the desk and felt more tears squeeze out. Esau offered her a paper towel, which she used to blow her nose and dry her eyes. “You uh… Also you don't have any wolf … stuff, do you?” The amount of viruses and diseases she had to vaccinate for flashed across her mind. How would she even treat them?

Esau shook his head. “I can run a few tests for you at the clinic, having another person process them if you don’t trust me.” His face was pale as he spoke. “I’m still so sorry for what happened. Had I known, I would have done so many things differently.”

“What’s going to happen to Peter?” Carmen looked at the man as he paced back and forth. The limp was a lot more pronounced. Maybe he hadn’t been completely healed from his injuries after all. Or he was faking again.

“I’ll come up with some sort of punishment for him.” Esau looked back at him. “What would you want done?”

Carmen couldn’t come up with an answer. There were so many thoughts rattling around in her mind, but none stuck. She had been willing to kill him earlier, trying to claw out his throat. But seeing how pathetic he was… She almost felt sorry for him.

Almost.

“Let’s put a pin in that.” She drank down another water bottle, then got up. She needed to leave. This was starting to make her feel sick all over again. She was also probably behind on her medicine. And she needed to check back in with Anna and the clinic.

“One more thing.” Esau grabbed a scrap of paper and scribbled down on it. “If you have any other questions, or just need to talk, here’s my phone number.”

Carmen clutched the paper tightly. What could she even say?

“I guess… See you next full moon?” She couldn’t even bring herself to force a smile. Everything was happening too fast.

“Hopefully. You know how to get here. But I’ll be in contact with you just in case.” He watched her leave, and Carmen wondered how someone who looked so… Tired and frail could have been the same beast that was about to tear her apart only a few hours before.

“Jesus, Carmen,” Anna remarked when she came back into the clinic three days later. “You look like Hell. But I’m glad to have you back. Full moon makes everyone act a fool.”

“Turns out when a wolf scratches you that it can be a horrible experience.” Carmen remarked as she started to look through the files of the clients they had coming in for the day. As she flipped through the papers, she picked up on the scent of Anna. It brought to mind the coffee they’d drank, and the fear and worry she’d been feeling.

“I’m fine,” Carmen said, turning and trying to smile. But her teeth suddenly felt too big for her mouth and the scowl returned. Her skin still hurt from the scalding hot showers she’d subjected herself to. She’d probably seared off the top three layers of tissue in an attempt to feel clean.

“I just…” Anna sniffed. “I just worried that I had done something wrong. I’d missed his dose or something, or I hadn’t secured him properly. God, if he didn’t have the muzzle… Then when you vanished for a week, I worried you’d-”

Carmen got up and hugged her. Anna sniffed again and rested her head on Carmen’s shoulder. Her scent of sorrow, worry, regret, wafted up and about made Carmen reel back from it all.

“I’ve seen what they can do,” Anna sobbed. “I know nature is beautiful and everything, but when I worked on the reserve…” Sniffling, she pulled back and wiped her eyes. “God, I’m sobbing and I wasn’t even hurt.”

Shrugging, Carmen turned to face the door when the bell chimed, a howling maine coon being carried in by a distraught looking man.

“Hello, Kelser, is Bruiser giving you trouble again?”

In the back room, Carmen worked through the patients almost mechanically. Sure, she smiled and waved, but she could feel… Something stirring in the back of her mind that she was pressing down.

The thought of harming the animals wasn’t flitting across her mind, but she just saw them in a way that was hard to put her finger on. Bruiser yowled, and she found herself giving a sour look to the cat. He stopped the act almost immediately as soon as Kelser was out the door.

“Dramatic.” She mumbled to herself, before checking him over. The feline purred and rubbed up against her. Cradling his squishy face, Carmen sighed.

Then, his ears went flat. Pulling back, he hissed and swiped at her arm, nearly ripping the wound open. Snarling, he backed himself into a corner and continued trying to phase through the wall, spitting and hissing.

Carmen found herself snarling back, and she bore her teeth.

“ Quit it .” Something in her throat rumbled in a way that made it sore. But Bruiser was suddenly laying on the ground, pupils dilated as he stared at her. Then, he gave her a slow blink.

Shaking her head, Carmen felt a twinge of worry about what had just happened. Bruiser didn’t seem hurt, but he was suddenly a lot more submissive. He made irritated chirps, but allowed her to work.

Once the day was over, Carmen stretched her arms above her head and looked over at Anna, who was shuffling their last customer out the door.

The clinic closed, Carmen dashed out the door and checked her phone.

“ Hw ws ur 1st dy bck ?” Esau's message lit up her screen. Carmen messaged him back, then saw she had two more messages.

“Here’s my number in case you need it, Max .”

“ E wants you to have my number. So here it is. Peter.”

Carmen sent a response to both and slipped the phone in her pocket. Anna was calling someone, making plans for the weekend. She gave Carmen a friendly wave, before pulling the phone down and covering the speaker.

“Hey. Me and the gang are going to get together tonight. You want in?”

Carmen opened her mouth to agree, but the thought of so many people around her, scents assaulting her nose, loud cries and wails making her ears ache… She didn’t feel like it would be wise. A craving to be around others was stoked in her, but it felt hollow.

“Sure.” Carmen cracked a smile, feeling the muscles in her neck strain.

Anna nodded, then went back to the conversation.

At the bar, she met up with Anna’s college friends, a man and a woman.

They all said their greetings, making small talk that Carmen tried to participate in, but she couldn’t really come up with much other than “ Yeah, I’m Anna’s friend ” and “ Yeah. I was sick as a dog for the past week. ”

“Oh! You’re the one who bought the necklace!” Mae smiled broadly. “I’m glad you liked it! When Anna told me her coworker wanted it, I just had to make it extra special! The wolf-”

“Don’t talk her ear off.” The man, Nick, lectured.

But Carmen didn’t need to do much talking. Once she was around others, Anna took control and began to catch them up on current events.

“So get this, this huge ass wolf comes in,” Anna said, recounting the story, a wine cooler in her hand as they were served an entree of greasy food.

Carmen stared down at the sandwich she’d ordered, picking and prodding at it with her silverware. Overstuffed, with oily meat that would fall out if she lifted it up. The scent coming off the cocktails and bottles was making her sick.

“Jesus,” Nick winced when they got to the part about Carmen’s injury. “Good thing it wasn’t a bite, eh?”

He looked at Carmen’s arm, which she slipped off the table and settled into her lap.

“So what about the wolf?” Mae asked. “I mean… I know they sometimes put down dogs for biting people…”

“He’s been relocated.” Carmen answered quickly, drawing the attention of the table. “...I was talking to one of the agents while I was recovering.”

Anna stared at Carmen with confusion, and she realized that it had never come up. But then again, she’d been keeping him out of her thoughts.

A sudden wave of fury came over her at the reminder of Peter. He’d scratched her, and for what? So he could get laid? Set her up to be at the mercy of the pack? What would have happened if Esau hadn’t intervened?

The knife in her hand cracked the plate as she continued to saw at the sandwich with it. She looked at the mess she’d made as the bits of food sprayed across the table.

Everyone looked at the broken plate, before staring at Carmen with what she hoped was concern. But the fear and confusion started to penetrate her nose. The scent it put off made her stomach churn. Even Anna was staring at her with wide eyes.

“ It’s fine .” She felt her voice trying to slip into the calming pitch that she’d used on the animals, but she fell into a coughing fit instead. Taking her water, Carmen took a drink and sighed, knowing the night was ruined.

The tension around them began to rise. Carmen apologized, excusing herself to the restroom and staring at herself in the mirror. Her face was clammy, sweat soaked hair clinging to her skin. Taking a deep breath, she fished money out of her purse and headed back to pay her portion of the bill.

“Do you mind if I walk you out to your car?” Nick asked. “You don’t look so good.”

Carmen looked to Anna and Mae, who both nodded.

They walked outside, and Carmen leaned against the vehicle. Her legs felt like they were about to give out. A familiar shiver of a fever began to creep up her body.

“You alright?” Nick asked.

“I’m okay.” She insisted. “I’ve just been having a rough patch.” Turning to the side, Carmen gave an exaggerated fake cough, hoping it would deter him.

With a nod of understanding, Nick gave her a pat on the shoulder.

And it was like he’d stabbed her. Her legs buckled and if she hadn’t been leaning against her car, she probably would have hit the pavement. When Nick pulled his hand away, she saw the flash of silver on his finger. If he noticed her reaction, he didn’t say anything. Opening her car door, Carmen ducked inside.

Clutching her shoulder, Carmen took a few deep breaths. Giving herself a squeeze, she jolted awake. Ears ringing, she started the drive back home.

When she got back to her apartment, Carmen tore off her shirt. The skin on her shoulder was now raised and angry, marbled with red and silver. Grabbing a bag of frozen peas, she set it on the wound.

Sitting on the couch, she fluffed up the pillows and tried to lay on them and focus on the television to take her mind off the pain. But nothing could hold her attention.

Holding the biggest body pillow, Carmen curled her entire body around it. Looping her legs and arms around the softness, she sighed and sniffed. She wormed her way into the pile, pushing them off the bed and making a sort of nest on the floor.

Laying between two and peeking at the television, she finally was able to watch it. But something still felt… Off.

She found herself tearing through her laundry, then her trash. After a few moments of searching, she found the baggy shirt and boxers that Max had given her. Taking the shirt, she draped it over the pillow and rested her cheek against it.

Taking the trash, she found the bandages Esau had used to patch up her arm and the piece of paper he’d given her. Not wanting to touch them directly, she slipped them under the pillowcase.

Despite it having lost most of their scents, it still brought Carmen some degree of comfort. She hung the rose quartz necklace above her head, then felt herself slipping into sleep.

She was sitting in the field, but her vision was distorted, almost as if she was looking through a telescope. Something warm rested against her. Looking down, Carmen saw a wolf laying across her lap, shivering and bloodied.

“Shhh…” Leaning down, she dropped her voice and watched the wolf lift its head, sniffing at the air. Fingers running through its fur, Carmen continued to soothe it as it whimpered and whined, nosing against her palm. A strange heat was coming off it. As it whimpered, she saw the silver arrowhead in its haunch.

“Please…” It whined. “It hurts. Like my blood is turning to fire. Turn me back...”

Despite her efforts, she wasn’t able to pull out the arrow. The silver sliced through her own fingers, leaving the whole thing a mess of fleshy ribbons and blood. The wolf whimpered and whined, looking up at her with piteous eyes, before it slowly turned to stone.

Something called out. When Carmen looked up, she saw a woman running toward them, her stomach swollen with pregnancy. Her eyes fell on the wolf and she fell to the ground, sobbing.

“You were supposed to keep this from happening,” She said as sobs wracked her body. “They were supposed to be smarter than this.” Hands beat at the earth, and a look of pure hatred pierced into Carmen.

“I will never forgive you.”

In the distance, she could see a silhouette of a deer. More hunters walked alongside it, notching more silver headed arrows as their necks craned. Distant howls echoed in the forest, followed by yelps and snarls.

Carmen sat up, tangled in blankets and pillows. Her sweat soaked through the fabric. Pulling herself free, she flinched when touching the now warm bag of squishy peas.

Taking in shaking breaths, she got to her feet. The necklace had become entangled around her wrist again. Going to the sink, Carmen splashed cold water on her face to wake herself up, then shoved the peas back into the freezer. Her shoulder was still sore, but it was just uncomfortably warm rather than white hot.

Sitting in her pillow pile, she pulled out her phone and sent a message to Esau.

“ Hey. Sorry it’s late. But are dreams normal ?” She paused, before sending up a follow up message. “ Like, dreams about the Statue Lady? Diana? ”

Opening the window, she sat on the windowsill and stared up at the moon. The cool night air felt better on her skin. They’d talked about the gods in school, but it wasn’t something Carmen took to heart.

Her phone buzzed. Slipping back inside, she closed the window when she saw a video call incoming. Reluctantly, she answered it.

Esau grumbled as he rubbed his bloodshot eyes. His face was pale in the blue light of the camera.

“Sorry, fat fingers.” His voice was still groggy with sleep. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Carmen recounted the dream. “But it was weird because… I had a dream the night I turned.”

“You’ll only turn on the full moon if that’s your worry.” He rubbed his face and shook his head as if that would loosen sleep’s hold on him.

“Diana… Sometimes you’ll have dreams about her. She is the goddess of the moon, so a lot of wolves think she’s a dream walker of sorts. One of the theories is that we’re descended from her hounds that she hunted with.” Taking in a deep breath, he rose from the bed and she realized he was shirtless. Carmen made sure that she had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

“Aside from the dreams, you feeling alright?”

“A little sick.” She admitted. “And… Kinda lonely.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, Carmen berated herself. Why did she say that? It wasn’t like she could command someone to come over. Looking over her shoulder, Carmen winced at the little den she’d made of the pillows again. No way would she show him that.

“That’s normal.” He assured her. “Your body is going through a change. And… We’re pack animals.” He paused, as if mulling over his options.

“You want me to send Max down to check on you?” His mouth opened to say something, but he clicked it closed, before glowering as something shuffled off camera.

“Don’t worry about it.” Carmen didn’t want to drag Max out of bed. He would probably come to resent her for making things so difficult right off the bat. She already felt guilty about waking up Esau. And she was sure that if Peter was sent over, he wouldn’t leave the apartment alive. Thankfully, Esau never brought up that option. Nor did he invite himself over.

They stared at one another in silence, before Carmen inhaled sharply and gave a wave.

“Well, have a good night. Sorry for waking you up!”

Hanging up the call, Carmen tossed her phone away. It clattered noisily on the floor, skidding into the pillow cavern.

Another restless night had Carmen feeling like a slug in the morning. More sweat and heat rolled off her.

Groaning, she looked at the homescreen of her phone and tried to will it to an earlier time so she could go back to sleep without guilt. Being a werewolf didn’t come with reversal powers, it seemed. Just a lot of sickness and irritation.

After dragging herself to the shower, Carmen felt a wave of fatigue and soreness come over her. The tile slammed against her head. Groaning, she curled into a ball on the shower floor and just let the water pour over her.

Grabbing a blanket, she burritoed herself inside and called the clinic, apologizing profusely.

“Just… Get some rest, okay?” Anna swallowed. “Nick said you didn’t look so good when he walked you to your car."

Carmen groaned and shivered, her body feeling like it was on the point of a convulsion.

Anna swallowed hard as a dog bayed in the background. “Carmen, please let me know if you feel any worse, okay?”

“Anna, you’re the real MVP, you know that?”

“...Carmen, go back to sleep. You can barely string together a sentence, don’t leave your apartment.” Anna snorted. “And feel better, okay?”

Sighing, Carmen hung up and looked at the ceiling.

“ How much longer is this supposed to last? ” She messaged Esau. “ Because I do not want to deal with this and keep missing work .” Pausing, she let her thumb hover over the screen, before she added. “ And hit Peter, for me, okay ?”

“ Wts ur adrss ?”

Carmen sighed. How old was this man? Sending her address, she laid her head back down.

Sleep continued to be elusive, so Carmen laid in her little pile of pillows, watching the tiles and shadows on the ceiling.

A couple hours later, there was a knock at the door. Rising from the pile on the floor, Carmen shuffled to the door and opened it.

Esau was standing at the door, a plastic bag in hand. His scent rolled over her and she suddenly was ravenous. The fatigue and the nausea fell off like heavy manacles, leaving Carmen feeling lighter than before.

They stared at one another, awkward silence following. Shifting from foot to foot, Esau looked around at the halls, before clearing his throat.

“Don’t you have work?” She stepped back and let him in. He walked in, looking around with raised brows. Carmen was suddenly aware of the state of disarray of the apartment. Her clothes and blankets were strewn about, the pillow pile in the middle of the living room, positioned so she could peer out and rest her head on the coffee table to eat.

“I’m on break.” He set a plastic container on the counter. “I couldn’t sleep last night after your call, so I did some cooking. I figured you’d want to eat something. I managed to rescue some ingredients from Peter before he ate me out of house and home.”

Carmen scowled, before she found herself rushing over when he popped the lid on the container. Her stomach growled..

“I thought you were feeling sick.” He put his palm to her forehead. “At least it feels like your fever broke.”

The touch was warm, his hands soft. Fingertips brushed against brow and temple. Carmen found herself leaning into the touch, the familiar scent of Pack washing over her. Quickly, he pulled his hand away.

“Sorry.” Sliding the container to her, he inhaled, putting a hand on his hip. His eyes swept around the apartment, taking in everything. The silence was suffocating.

“Thanks for coming by.” Carmen forced a smile, but she felt a flicker of happiness that made it somewhat more real. She grabbed his arm to escort him out.

It was like a jolt went through her. Her vision became tinted with silver and blue again, and her grip on his wrist tightened enough for him to grunt with discomfort. She stared up at him, her lips parting slightly. The familiar sensation of arousal stirred between her legs. Nowhere near as intense at the first time, but she recognized it.

Esau looked down at Carmen, hands not leaving hers.

“You’ve got wolf eyes…” He said softly, brows coming together. “But it’s not the full moon…” Sniffing the air, he stared at her, the confusion and fear rolling off him. But it was quickly overpowered by curiosity.

Carmen let him go, rubbing her eyes. “Sorry.” She blinked, shaking her head and looking at him again. “Are they gone?”

But her vision still remained the same silvery blue. The aching need was filling her again. The attraction she felt toward Esau was something she wasn’t sure about. Or was she just feeling that lonely?

Esau’s eyes never left her. There was something familiar about how he looked at her. The way the beast tried to push her away while he fought his own arousal. However, she felt them slowly coming closer together.

“Carmen,” He said softly, “It’s not the full moon. You shouldn’t be looking at me like that.”

“What if I’m not being affected by the moon?” Tongue flitting across her lip, she stared at him. "What if I just… really like you?" She’d never been too terribly into older men, but if someone was attractive, they were attractive.

His eyes wouldn’t meet hers. “It’s not right. I’m so much older than you. And I made too many mistakes already.” Placing his hands on her shoulders, he let out his breath.

“I’ve contacted an all female pack about three hours away from here. You should be able to get along there just fine without having to worry about-”

“Are you kidding me!?” Carmen jerked away. “I’m not moving. I’ve got a life here. A job. People who rely on me! If you should be sending anyone away, it should be Peter, he’s the one who did this to me!”

Esau flinched at her words. “I know. And I’m sorry. But if I send him away, then he's going to get himself killed.”

He clenched his fist, his whole body shaking with an effort to contain himself. “I lost control once. I’ll never do it again. And the best thing for that is to send you away.”

Carmen grit her teeth.

They stared at one another, not breaking eye contact.

“ No. ” Carmen’s throat felt raw at the word. Esau’s face went pale and he fell to one knee, his whole body shaking. Hands clenched and opened, scratching at the hardwood floor. Veins bulged, joints twisted, and he let out a pained whimper.

Could she really hold so much power? Her eyes widened as Esau slowly got to his feet, his body slick with sweat. Breathing heavily, he stared at Carmen. There was a flicker of the wolf in his eyes, but his body strained and it was snuffed out. She opened her mouth, almost ready to call for him to change.

Horror filled her and she backed away.

"You keep talking about staying in control, keeping it, never losing it." Carmen flexed her fingers.

"But you didn't hurt me when you…" Cheeks burning, she shook her head, remembering how she was crying out with a need that frightened the both of them. And it was starting to rise again.

And she didn't want to stop it.

"What do you want to do?" She asked, nearly begging.

Esau turned away from her, staring at the den of pillows. "What I want isn't important. I need to keep the pack safe. I've sent away people before. That's why I took in a lone wolf like Peter, because he needed a pack to ground him. And that's why I need to send you away, before I-"

Carmen reached out and touched his chest. She could feel his heart racing, hear the blood singing in his veins. Shifting, he turned to her touch. Fingers curled around the back of her hand, slowly lifting it away and cupping Esau's face.

"We shouldn't be doing this." But he only leaned more into her hand as he spoke.

"Do you not want to?"

"I do. By Diana, I do. But you're…" His words trailed off and he sighed. "I owe it to the pack. And to you."

"You're not the pack leader right now." She reminded him. "You're just a man checking in on one of his patients."

Standing on her toes, Carmen brushed her lips against his. The small bit of friction lit a flame. Fingers twisted in Esau's hair and brought him down.

Arms looped around her waist and he pushed himself against Carmen. She could smell the shaving gel that he'd used that morning, the cologne he barely applied to cover up the faint scent of animal on him, and the desire.

Head swimming, Carmen pressed her nose to the curve of his neck and inhaled his scent. Lips rain across scorching hot skin, making Esau's knees buckle. A raspy moan rattled in his throat, years of desire and repression finally unraveling.

Squeezing her shoulders, Esau brought her mouth back up to his. Stubble from the day scratched against her chin, but she didn't care. Their lips parted for an instant, only to come crashing back together. She shoved him, hard. With a grunt, he landed on the couch.

Taking his shirt between her teeth, Carmen realized she wanted to tear it off him. Sanity came back an instant later, and the garment was pulled over his head instead. She inhaled his scent deeply, the arousal making her shiver.

Her eyes went to the silvery bite on his shoulder. Fingers traced the wound, and it seemed to pucker and raise under her touch. Esau flinched, sucking in a breath, his fist making a white knuckled grip on the couch.

Slipping off her pants and underwear, Carmen straddled him. Hands cupped the small of her back and rear. Nails pressed into skin, making it prickle at the touch.

"This is going to be different." He warned her.

“That doesn’t make it bad.” She kissed him again, grinding her hips against his.

Fabric rustled, and she felt him pressing against her. Even the brief touches seemed to send a jolt through both of them. His nails dug more into her skin, making the contact last just an instant longer.

The tip pressed inside her, already damp and slick with precum.

“Are you sure?” He asked, even though his cock was pulsing, twitching against her wet slit.

In response, she slid down onto him. Esau gasped, pushing Carmen’s shoulders and burying himself to the hilt. Panting, he began to thrust up into her as she met him in the opposite direction.

They continued their movement, becoming entangled in one another, skin slick, breath catching, soft noises escaping as they explored one another with hands and mouths.

“You alright?” She asked, trying to not moan too loudly and keep her rhythm going. Her breasts began to bounce as she took more control, putting her hand on the back of the couch to allow her better balance.

Esau continued to gasp and whimper, each movement seeming to awaken something new to him. When she took him to the hilt, he'd toss his head back and let out a growl that rumbled through Carmen.

“It’s just…” He took in a couple breaths, holding her to him. “Been a while.” Cupping her cheek, he stared at her. "It's a lot different when… you're human."

"Just let me take care of it." She laced her fingers with his and continued to roll her hips. There was something about the two of them that just fit , and she couldn't put her finger on it.

Picking up her pace, Carmen buried her face in Esau's neck. Moans escaped them both, before becoming muffled by lips. Carmen felt herself approaching climax, the orgasm building before she could even think to slow down and enjoy it.

This was what she had craved. What she'd needed.

Esau's nails dug into Carmen's hips, and he held her down. At first, she struggled, but he hilted himself, grinding against her to push in more than she thought possible.

A cry went past her lips as he twitched and she clenched, their climaxes within an instant of one another. With labored breaths, he weakly thrust upward as fluid covered the both of them, before finally slowing when he was spent.

Pressing her forehead to his, Carmen inhaled their mingling scents. They kissed, Esau slipping hands inside her shirt and not allowing any space between them.

When he finally pulled back, there was a look of awe on his face. It was the glow and glint in his eyes as man and primal need were both satisfied.

Resting against him, Carmen closed her eyes. His hands remained around her waist, and her arms around his neck, cheeks, torsos, and groins pressed together.

"What do we do now?" He asked, sounding genuinely lost.

"I guess leave it up to the mercy of Diana."

The next part is out, you can read it here.

#monster boyfriend #monster lover #monster fucker #monsterfucker #monster fuckery #werewolf #werewolf boyfriend #werewolf lover #werewolf smut #terato #terat0philliac #teratophillia

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frozenjokes · 7 months ago

Text

Lost In Translation

“Right. You all have thirty minutes, or until I get tired of you; a far more likely outcome to happen in very little time, so think twice before you two go on yelling and talking over each other,” Etho threw an aggressive point at Scar and Grian from their place on the sand, tail flicking irritably. They had some sort of human game in front of them, thinly sliced human scraps with shapes and symbols Mumbo didn’t understand, but given Etho’s less than joyous mood, Mumbo held off on the questions. He got the feeling he may have been pushing it already by asking Etho to come back to the shore to speak with all of them, but the other mermaid had only looked tired, not completely unwilling. Mumbo understood. Very little peace with those two. He nodded along as Etho translated what they’d said to Mumbo, but startled at their next words, ‘You first, Mumbo. Say whatever you want to say.’

Oh goodness. He hadn’t prepared for this. Well- obviously he’d thought about what he wanted to say, but he hadn’t expected to be first! Etho made a small huffing noise in response to Mumbo’s anxious clicking, which was entirely indistinguishable between amusement or annoyance, but they didn’t say anything, fins patient. Not patient, however, were the two humans on the shore, boring holes with their barely contained excitement right into Mumbo’s soul. Goodness. Oh god. To escape their eyes, Mumbo dove into his bag of trinkets.

‘Gifts. I want to give them their gifts. Music boxes. The music boxes. Tell them they’re fragile, please, very fragile. I don’t know if they work above water, and I don’t quite see why they wouldn’t, but I’ve never tested it- I don’t want them to break. Tell them they’re fragile.’ Mumbo dug out the boxes, gingerly placing them where the water met the shore and backing away.

“He brought you two both a gift from where he’s from, a very important cultural thing, so for the love of god, don’t break them. They’re music boxes, they play mermaid songs. They work underwater, so don’t try to play them outside of it. He wants to stress that they’re fragile, but I think Mumbo thinks humans are a bit clumsier than..” Etho trailed off, staring the two humans down, “Nevermind. Treat these like glass. The boxes are sturdy, though.”

“Okay, I’m making a conscious effort not to be offended by that.”

“Gifts?” Scar, barely contained, squealed over the tail end of whatever Grian had said, launching himself toward the water in a way that made Mumbo’s stomach lurch. He was going to break it. No doubt.

“You’re making him nervous, Scar,” Etho mumbled, and Scar stopped short over the boxes, looking almost startled from Etho to Mumbo to Etho to Mumbo to Etho again.

“What? He’s not doing anything. Did he say something?”

“No. Do you say something everytime you’re uncomfortable?”

“No. Usually I make a face about it though,” Scar gestured vaguely to Mumbo, who was really wishing Etho would do the translation thing he came here to do right now.

“You own a zoo, Scar. You are the animal guy,” Etho sounded exasperated, which was really making Mumbo anxious now. Come on, Scar! Don’t ruin this. But Scar didn’t look any less confused; if anything, he looked frustrated, brows furrowed and frowning.

“Alright, great, yeah, I do animals. I don’t know if you noticed, but that’s a whole ass person!” Scar made a grander gesture, and Etho flicked his tail, but Scar wasn’t done, “I know Mumbo doesn’t really emote like people do, but he’s obviously sentient! I don’t understand how dehumanizing him is helping anyone! I mean, besides making some people feel less badly about plotting to murder and sell the bits of our friend here-“

“Okay.” Grian bristled, but Scar didn’t stop.

“I won’t draw a line between the two of us like we’re any different. I don’t respect Mumbo any differently than I respect the both of you, and that isn’t to say I think down on Animals In General either, because I don’t, obviously, but it isn’t the same. It kind of bothers me that you think of Mumbo so differently- especially you-“

“Scar.” Etho said flatly, eyes lidded, “Shut up.” Scar blanched, but didn’t speak, so Etho went on, “That,” he pointed to Mumbo, “Is not a human. That is a mermaid. I have no idea what’s running through that head of yours, but Mumbo is not a human person. You can not read him like a human person. He does emote, quite expressively at that. With his fins. Just like a dog or cat does with their ears, or some other equivalent.“ ‘-you complete fucking buffoon, what the fuck are you going on about.’

“Oh.” Scar stared at Mumbo for a moment, who was doing a poor job at pretending he wasn’t very irritated right now. “Oh. I see it.”

“Have you not been looking at his fins?” Grian asked, the question more genuine than anything, but Scar clearly interpreted the tone otherwise, hunching his shoulders with a defensive huff.

“Of course I have! When they’re moving a lot I do! But they don’t usually move that much.” Was Scar angry? Mumbo was having a difficult time telling. He didn’t really sound angry- more.. squeaky. What did it mean when a human was squeaky? Grian opened his mouth to say something, but clearly thought better of it. Etho did not have the same reservations.

“You haven’t been looking at his face, have you?” Etho paused, fins flaring in sudden thought, “You haven’t been looking at my face have you?”

“Of course I’ve been looking at your face!” Scar threw up his arms, “I look at all of you!”

“That- Scar. Mermaids don’t make expressions like humans do. We literally do not have the muscles in our faces- mermaids don’t emote like that! Do you know how weird it was to go from nothing to my face just Moving all of the time?” Etho’s exasperation seemed to shift, looking more like he had been wronged by The World than just Scar.

“Are you really worried about where I’m looking or do you just want to complain,” Scar huffed with just a hint of a smile, and honestly, Mumbo had completely given up trying to puzzle out how anyone here was feeling.

“To complain!”

Scar snorted, “Well then, human Etho doesn’t make many faces anyway, so I don’t bother looking much at all.”

“Good! I don’t want anyone looking at my face while I’m possessed. Scratch that, I don’t want anyone looking at me ever.”

“We can all tell.”

“Good!”

“What.” Mumbo cut in firmly, unable to take any more of this, before remembering there was someone here who he could complain to in far more detail, ‘You two are just as bad as Scars and Red. Do I get to know what you’re bickering about, or do I have to stay in the dark forever?’

Etho blinked, staring for a moment before looking back to Scar, “He’s mouthy.” Mumbo bristled with a short hiss.

“What? What did he say?” Grian perked up, then, after a quick glance at Mumbo, puffed up defensively, “Well I bet he feels left out! No wonder!”

‘They’re defending you,’ Etho clicked with a short gesture, and Mumbo was too struck between vindication and annoyance to react, ‘Scars wasn’t using their brain. They’re weird about you.’

‘Weird? What does that mean?’

Etho rolled their fins, a wordless non-answer, and Mumbo had to consciously lay his own fins flat to avoid screaming his frustration to the world. Humans! The WORST.

‘I don’t like how you talk to each other,’ Mumbo huffed, fins twitching, ‘You didn’t used to be so mean. Now whenever any of you are together all you do is argue without any regard for anyone else. What changed? Are you all in season or something?’

Etho gaped at Mumbo for a moment, a human expression, before breaking out into that odd human half-laugh, wheezing a howl with flared gills. The longer this went on, the more Mumbo was convinced that Etho might actually just be dying, and given the strained looks on Grian and Scar’s faces, it seemed they were thinking similarly, but Etho did straighten up eventually, making a gesture of wiping something from their face that Mumbo didn’t understand the meaning of.

“Mumbo thinks you two have been so bad to each other because you’re horny, and he’s right.” Etho wheezed (laughed?) once more, holding their chest, but whatever they’d said (a translation, maybe?) definitely had an impact, both Grian and Scar jumping in alarm, their faces ranging from strained to outright distressed.

“What- how- Mumbo!” Scar wailed, but in his loss for words, Grian took over.

“We haven’t- Where’s he gotten this impression from! We hardly even visit together at all! What, did we argue one time and he’s just- What exactly did he say!?”

Well, Mumbo hadn’t really been serious, but he was starting to think he was onto something now. Huh. The more you know. Maybe he should make a mental note to avoid humans in the late summer- how long was this going to last? Etho said something in human that Mumbo missed, Grian only cutting through his thought with the sheer volume of his protest.

“That is not true!”

“Is it not, though?” Scar looked thoughtful, but the facade cracked when he snickered at Grian’s affronted expression; wow, the way humans changed color was so odd! Could they turn colors other than red? Mumbo was pretty sure he’d have seen it by now if they could, but still.

‘It’s complicated,’ Etho settled at that conclusion, infuriatingly vague, ‘Humans don’t quite have a season like you’re thinking, but they’ve both been worked up for a while now. Human relationships tend to reach a point of complexity that is rarer for us. Every relationship dispute I’ve known in the deep is dealt with..’ Etho paused, frequent clicks filling the silence as they thought, ‘Well, if we’re unhappy enough to fight with teeth.. No. Whatever they’re doing isn’t normal for humans either. Freaks.’

Mumbo cocked his head, just slightly, curiosity like claws longing to pull the whole story from Etho’s throat, ‘They’re fighting over someone?’

Etho snorted, ‘I guess you could say that.’ Wow. Etho was quite possibly the worst person in the world they could have had to translate between them. What did that MEAN. Etho sure wasn’t going to elaborate, their attention already back on Grian and Scar, who were still bickering, though quite a bit redder in the face than before.

“Alright, who’s next,” Etho cut in, eternally unamused, “Less uncomfortable flirting, more Mumbo.”

“That was not flirting!” Grian hissed, but Scar was unfazed, eyes bright at Mumbo’s name.

“Me first, me first! Please tell Mumbo ‘I love you!’ from Scar. Or just teach Grian how to say it, and maybe one day I’ll be able to say it too.”

“You-“ Etho snorted, “Seriously? That’s all you want to say?”

“That’s what’s come to mind right now. I mean, most of the time we run into issues it’s kinda on the spot, y’know? I didn’t really bring any human stuff for him to look at today- augh! What a complete missed opportunity! Then I’d have more to talk about! I mean, I could talk about my week like I do normally, but I don’t really feel very strongly about it. I do that anyway, regardless if Mumbo can understand me or not. He likes listening!”

“He likes listening, huh?” Etho huffed, but the way their fins were waving, Mumbo was pretty sure they were amused. Grian snorted as well, but raised his hands in defense when Scar turned to admonish the two of them, though Etho didn’t look much like they cared at all, eyes narrowed and tail twitching in a sharp focus that lasted so long, Scar looked up, confused by the silence.

“Is something wrong?”

“Uh..” Etho’s fins lowered, looking embarrassed, “No, I just.. I’m not entirely sure how to do that. It’s- the language is complicated, and a lot of it isn’t even said out loud- and big feelings- love is a big feeling. You usually communicate something like that with song, and never on the behalf of someone else- I mean, maybe, but the context would have to be there.. Everything I’m thinking of saying with words just sounds.. Well, he might get the wrong message. This is an unusual thing for a mermaid to just say to another.”

“You guys don’t tell each other you love them?”

“We do, just not the way humans do. Most of it is wordless, and most of that is acts of service. Time in each other’s company. If a mer isn’t fond of another, they kind of just swim away.”

Scar chewed on his lip, distress in his furrowed brow, “But I want him to know.”

“I’m sure he knows, Scar,” Grian tried, but despite the soft tone, this didn’t seem to make Scar feel any better.

“Can you try? Even if it’s a little odd sounding or not quite right, I don’t care, he’ll still get the idea.”

Etho didn’t look convinced, fins wavering, “Maybe now is a good time to say I’m a bit rusty.. It- it’s been a while since I’ve been home, even before I became human, and listen, I’m not looking for sympathy or anything, but I lived in a pretty remote place with pretty stony inhabitants, and they were not the most warm or loving supports-“

“Etho,” Scar crouched to Etho’s level, “Any time, any place, I will always be free if you want to talk about how your parents never taught you how to say ‘I love you’-“

“Oh god, no. Absolutely not. Also, Scar, again, that is not how the mermaid language-“

“-But it doesn’t matter to me how you say it or if it’s awkward or whatever. I don’t care if the translation is completely incomprehensible. It would just mean a lot to me to be able to tell him, that’s all. That’s all I want to say, I won’t bother you with anything else.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” Etho returned dryly, but Scar looked so desperately hopeful, so intensely genuine, and despite avoiding eye contact, Etho still cracked, “Okay. Just give me a second.”

…

‘Scars,’ Etho started, and for an uncomfortably long time, that was it, though they kept shifting their tail in a gesture Mumbo didn’t really recognize.. Was Etho trying to say something, or were they just nervous? Without the mobility in the water, it would be a lot harder to speak properly, but Etho made no move to abandon their human game. Etho made a couple sounds like he was testing the language, but perked up a moment later, looking hopeful. ‘How do you say it, ‘love?’ On behalf of someone else?’

Mumbo straightened with a soft click; ah! They weren’t sure of the translation! That made sense, especially when Etho had been away for so long with no one to talk to- they were still fluent of course, just a few things slipped through the cracks- wait a minute.

‘Love?’

‘To love. A friend’s affirmation. Humans like to affirm each other often.’

Mumbo’s fins waved, light amusement, ‘They say we are friends, then. That is sweet.�� But Etho wasn’t satisfied, tail fin thumping against the grass.

‘Stronger feeling. Deeper.’ Surprise set Mumbo’s fins on end, but Etho was distressed by the reaction, waving their hands in what had to be a frantic human gesture, ‘Not that deep!’

‘You’re confusing me.’

‘Scars is your friend. They feel strongly, they wanted you to know. A human gesture. Friendship sets a distance. Scars feels closer- there is no distance, he wants you to know. It is not- not- mating. Between? No. Forget I spoke.’ Etho put their head in their hands. “I’ve ruined it.”

“What? What did you say?” Scar didn’t look any bit alarmed, though Grian behind him was glancing from Etho to Mumbo and back again, wary. Mumbo had little idea what to make of that.. Everyone except Scar seemed to be nervous, but Scar was always the confident type. Was this something nerve wracking?

“I don’t know! I don’t know. Who knows what he took from that!”

“You could ask?” Grian suggested, but Etho shook his head fiercely.

“I’m never speaking again.”

Hm. They seemed to be distressed. It was overall difficult to tell, but the general vibe made this seem like some sort of confession? Poor Etho, Mumbo wished he could have been more helpful with the translation. Even Scar looked a little down now, though, humans tended to absorb each other’s emotions quite strongly. Scar wanted.. not courtship, apparently, but not friendship either? What did that mean? Something about puzzling out Etho’s words had the logical part of Mumbo’s brain firing rapidly, but the moment that slipped, he felt his heart rate rise and his fins in turn. Did- Just the idea had him so flustered- humans! What was Mumbo going to do with them!

The three of them began to talk again on the shore, but Mumbo didn’t even try to listen, lost in the fantasy world where someone like that would even be possible. Had he misunderstood? But Scar must not have seen any issues if he intended to make a grand confession out of it, even if translation problems got in the way. Did humans have more stages between friendship and partnership than mermaids? Is that what Etho had meant by ‘between?’ Perhaps Scar meant to gauge interest, see how Mumbo reacted.. Is that why Grian was so nervous? He wanted this to go well? Oh, poor Scar! Mumbo hadn’t given any reaction at all! No wonder he was disappointed!

Actually, before Mumbo got ahead of himself here, how did he feel about this? Intrigued, surely, but for the right reasons? Scar could be abrasive, certainly, but Mumbo always got the impression his heart was in the right place, and he was always so patient, wasn’t he? He loved to swim, loved to try keeping up with Mumbo when he had no chance, loved to play- oh goodness, Scar had been bringing Mumbo gifts for as long as he could remember! Was that- had Scar always been interested in him? How could Mumbo have been so daft!

In his defense, this felt a little like an objectively odd thing to happen. Scar was always so full of energy, but Mumbo had never considered part of the reason to be infatuation! Mumbo was aware he did well for himself aesthetically, most if not all having to do with his size, but Scar had little base of comparison.. though, maybe humans didn’t care for the same attributes? They had eyes, for one; distinct features mermaids could sense without sight probably didn’t matter as much to humans. Maybe Scar liked Mumbo’s fins? They were colorful, weren’t they? Oh, Mumbo loved color.. Humans had quite good ones, though not as good as a lot of fish. But the way they wore color, oh, Mumbo would kill for some human clothes..

Perhaps he’d gotten off topic. How did he feel about Scar? Scar.. Mumbo liked Scar. He appreciated that Scar met him where he was most comfortable, spending hours trying to teach words of a foreign language to.. varying levels of success. It was damn hard, frustrating at the best of times, but that didn’t seem to bother or discourage the human.

Scar was also mildly terrifying in every way, and Mumbo was never sure if the human would survive the next week. In fairness, he didn’t know how humans survived at all, but at least Grian seemed to value his life!

Goodness, how odd it was to be considering a human of all things.. But they were sentient, weren’t they? Mumbo couldn’t really find a problem with this. Experimentally, this seemed like an incredible opportunity! Scar wasn’t looking for any firm commitments, and that was fine; Mumbo wasn’t about to trade scales over Scar anyway, especially given their distance. Oh, this was sweet, wasn’t it? Scar was very sweet..

Ah! Mumbo had so many gifts to make up for! He nearly forgot Etho altogether, just about to turn tail when the other mer spoke.

‘Red wants to apologize for the net, and for how he tried to kill you afterwards. They-‘

‘RED-‘ Mumbo’s head spun, that little tidbit setting his fins completely on end and quivering, ‘RED TRIED TO WHAT!?’

Etho stared, glanced at Grian, then back again. “Oh. That’s awkward.”

“I- What did he say-?” Grian squeaked, distress clear, though he could not be nearly as horrified as Mumbo.

“He didn’t know,” Etho said simply, and Scar drew a sharp breath.

“Oooh, yeah, that is bad. That is. Hm.”

“HE DIDN'T KNOW!? He didn’t- what did he think I-” Grian shrieked, and that really frightened Mumbo, jumping back just a bit further away. “Oh god. Oh god.” Grian stopped, turning to Mumbo stiffly, eyes alight with- an emotion, surely- ‘I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry-‘

Etho cackled, the noise more human sounding than any of their other ‘laughs,’ while Scar only sat in the sand, hands over his eyes.

‘I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry-‘ (and so it went for quite a while longer)

#mumbomaid au #hermitcraft #hermitfic #gtws #goodtimeswithscar #mumbo jumbo #grian #hermitshipping #redscape #scarian #etho #ethoslab

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lunamaraproject · 1 year ago

Text

LUNAMARA: Fragments [3]

🦢

“What’re you doing?”

Felix doesn’t startle - Elsie is hardly the most stealthy in her approach. He pulls himself bodily out of the large filing box he was halfway falling into, having to unstick a stray notepaper from his long hair, and turns to smile at the young girl.

He would never call her that out loud, now that she’s reached that particular age where a youngster insists they’re grown enough and hates to be treated like a child. To do so would be inviting her wrath, which in turn would mean Rufus’ wrath, and Felix can’t afford that.

“Sorting through some old historical documents,” Felix replies, holding up a few sheafs of paper. “Though, it hurts my soul a little that items from my youth are now called ‘historical documents’.”

“Well you fought in the war, you must have known you’d be making history,” Elsie says, sitting on the edge of the box in her wide, poofy skirt, quite unlike the typical style of courtly formal wear. Her moonlight silver hair is worn in two buns on either side of her head, which always makes Felix think of those adorable ‘bear’ animals from the surface. He knows that if she let her hair down and dressed appropriately, she’d be the spitting image of her mother the Queen. Perhaps that’s why she never does so.

“Actually, at the time, I was more worried about where the next meal was coming from. We were on the surface, and there’s no manna there, so it was quite nerve wracking,” Felix chuckles, turning the old scraps over in his hands. “And I wasn’t the only one. We don’t have many official documents left from that time, since all of them were digital, and the systems are down or gone now. Mostly just these letters sent to home by soldiers, or other odds and ends.”

“Hmm,” she kicks her feet back and forth, craning her neck to look at what’s in his hand. He shows her, though her face immediately twists in a frown when she realises it’s in Common. He should really teach her how to read it, but they have other priorities than learning nearly-dead languages. “If there was no manna, what did you eat?”

“Surface substances. They grown on the plants, and sometimes it’s the plants themselves. I was somewhat loathe to eat any of the moving, breathing creatures, but the humans weren’t, and nor were most of my comrades by the end of it,” he tucks the sheets into a pocket in his tunic, and glances around the cavernous shelves of the palace archives. “It tasted amazing.”

“Tasted?”

Felix smiles at her, chuckling. “Surely when you were very, very small, someone brought you something from the surface to eat…? Someone devastatingly beautiful…?”

Elsie looks thoughtful, then snaps her fingers in realisation. “Oh, yeah! Cassius brought me that thing! An ah-pull!” “I did! I brought it!” Felix whines miserably, hanging his head by her knees like a forlorn pet. “I can’t believe you forgot my thoughtful gift! My beautiful apple!”

“Oh please, I was like, 25!” Elsie huffs. “How am I going to remember one gift from a century ago!”

Felix clutches his chest. “So cruel! I got that apple from one of the last attempts to reclaim the surface! I almost got chipped! Look!” And he hitches up the edge of his tunic to reveal…

“...I can’t see anything,” Elsie declares, squinting at his thigh.

“There! This hairline fracture!” he pokes pointedly at the thinnest, most nigh-invisible line just above his knee, showing the faintest glimmer of orange fire-opal bright crystal underneath. “Never been the same since!”

When he raises his gaze, he’s met with the patented ‘Totally Over It’ Elsie look. “How can you be so old and such a whiny baby at the same time.”

“Ack! You’re too cold, Princess Elsennae!”

“Ugh, stop! Stars, can you be any more embarrassing?” she shoves his shoulder, though with no real force, and stands up, dusting off her skirts. Certainly, this room isn’t the cleanest. “I’m going back upstairs, come find me if you discover anything actually cool or useful.”

And with that summary end to the conversation, the last of the royal family of Lunamara marches her way out of the archives, leaving Felix in the dark, surrounded only by the history he himself is a part of. He smiles, and tries to remember what an apple tastes like.

Maybe one of the files in here will describe it.

🌗