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dreamwritesimagines · 1 year ago

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Garden of Secrets [33] - Stinging Nettle

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback and support my loves, it made my whole week, you’re amazing!❤ I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! ❤

Thanks so much to @theskytraveler for helping me with the chapter!

Summary: The hours before an important ball can be very tense.

Warnings: Regency era society and social rules, some gender specific language and terms, mentions of trauma and violence.

Word Count: 3400

Series Masterlist

Though attending parties hadn’t been a habit of yours up until you got married, you’d grown quite fond of them fast. Maybe it was the entertaining conversations, the company of your friends, drinks, or perhaps the overall free atmosphere that one could not have at a ball but now that you were here, you were now beginning to realize how much you had missed it.

“You seem to be in deep thought.”

Your head shot up and you turned around to see Lord Easton at the entrance of the balcony you were standing in. You smiled at him, then lifted the glass in your hand a bit, the chatter and the music coming from inside reaching the balcony as well.

“I may have drunk a bit too much,” you admitted. “Wanted to get some fresh air.”

“May I join you?”

“Of course,” you said and he closed the balcony door behind him, then approached you as you turned again to watch the beautiful view under the night sky. He placed his glass on the marble railing of the balcony and you stole a look at him.

“They’re having some sort of a sketching competition back in there.”

“Oh I saw it,” he said. “I think I will sit that one out.”

“You don’t want to practice?” you joked and he chuckled.

“I probably should, now that you mention it.”

“Mm hm,” you said. “I mean who else should practice if not the famed artist with thousands of admirers and many credits to his name?”

“No one is ever too good to practice,” he told you. “Especially an artist.”

You thought for a moment, then turned to him.

“Lord Easton—”

“Gordon,” he corrected you. “Your husband is a good friend of mine, and I consider you and I friends as well.”

You smiled slightly.

“Very well,” you said. “May I ask a favor of you, Gordon?”

“Of course.”

“My aunt is throwing a ball tomorrow,” you said. “And if you dropped by even for a short time, it would make her very happy. Not to mention the ton admires you so much and…you know how it goes.”

He smiled and bowed his head slightly.

“It would be my honor and privilege,” he said, making you beam.

“Really?”

“Absolutely.”

A giggle escaped from your lips.

“Oh thank you!” you said. “She will be so happy. I’ll um— I’ll send you the invitation tomorrow?”

“I’m looking forward to it,” he said. “And there’s no need to thank me, I assure you.”

You sipped your drink, then stole a look at him.

“Does it ever tire you?”

“Attending balls?”

“No, the…” you motioned with your hands. “The attention from the ton, all the time.”

He hummed, reaching out to grab his glass to swirl the drink in it.

“Occupational hazard,” he said with a smile, making you laugh. “I mean it has its moments. I don’t mind it most of the time, balls are a way of socializing for example so that’s expected, but sometimes when I’m by myself on the street, I simply want to observe the crowd in quiet.”

“I could never be an artist,” you said, shaking your head and he raised his brows.

“You don’t enjoy attention?”

“I hate it,” you admitted. “I experienced it when I first debuted, with the suitors and such and I’m just…It’s not for me.”

“You might have to get used to some attention though,” he said, making you frown.

“How so?”

“Have you seen your husband’s works?” he joked. “Once he gets into the Academy and people start seeing how talented he is…”

“Benedict is good with all that,” you said. “No issues there, people already pay lots of attention to him, he’s used to that.”

“You’re his ultimate inspiration,” he reminded you. “People will be curious about you as well.”

You paused for a second, then shrugged your shoulders.

“That’s different than being an artist,” you said, trying to ignore the way your cheeks were burning and turned your head to check out what was happening inside. They seemed to have finished with their competition judging by the familiar faces in the room, so you nodded in the direction of the room.

“I’ll go back inside,” you said. “Are you coming?”

“In a moment,” he said and you clinked your glass with his, then made your way back inside. Your gaze fell on Benedict and Margery who were having a conversation at the corner of the room and your stomach did an unpleasant flip, but you shook your head at yourself and made your way to them. Margery cleared her throat when she saw you out of the corner of her eye and gave Benedict a warning look but it was gone so fast that you couldn’t even decide whether you had actually seen it before Benedict turned his head.

“Hello darling,” he said, but his soft tone did nothing to soothe the insecurity shooting through you.

“Am I interrupting something?” you asked, making Benedict shake his head. “Because I can just—”

“Oh you’re not interrupting anything,” Margery said with a laugh. “I was just giving Benedict a hard time because he had the audacity to badmouth Byron’s poetry in front of me.”

Benedict made a face. “I cannot believe you actually like his poetry.”

Margery heaved a sigh and turned to you.

“I give up,” she announced, making the corners of your lips twitch. “I’m going to need more drinks, excuse me.”

She walked away from you both and you pursed your lips together, then looked up at Benedict.

“Are you sure I didn’t interrupt?”

“Not at all,” he assured you with a small grin and entwined his fingers with yours, making your heart skip a beat. “Are you having fun?”

“I am, and I kind of missed it actually,” you admitted. “Coming to parties and such.”

“Did you?”

You nodded. “One would think you’re a bad influence, you hedonist artist.”

He gave you that lopsided grin. “Me, a bad influence?” he asked. “You’re the one with the knife.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “Yes but you’re the one with the debauchery.”

“Fair point,” he said and you repressed a laugh.

“Who won the sketching competition by the way?”

“Felix,” he said. “Lucy gave him full points.”

“Of course she did,” you said, stealing a look at Lucy who was now talking to Margery. “So Byron hm?”

“Huh?” Benedict asked before frowned. “Oh yeah! Margery admires his lines a lot for some reason.”

“Right,” you said, that uncomfortable feeling twisting at your stomach again but before you could say anything else, Benedict pulled at your hand gently.

“Come on,” he said, “I’ll show you the winning sketch, Felix is very proud of it.”

You and Benedict had returned home around dawn and Benedict had an appointment with Gordon in the morning and Anthony in the afternoon, so by the time you woke up, he had already left home to meet Gordon. You had asked to take your breakfast in the drawing room as you tried to decide what the best time would be to drop by your uncle’s home before tonight’s ball to see if they needed any help.

Perhaps afternoon?

You sipped your tea while reading your book and as you bit into your toast, Paula entered the drawing room.

“Ma’am, Miss Harlowe is here.”

“Oh?” you said, putting down your toast and dusted the crumbs off your hands before standing up. Lottie stepped into the drawing room and made her way to you to pull you into a hug.

“Good morning!”

“Hello there,” you said with a smile and pulled back to look at her. “You look happy.”

“I am happy!” she said. “I have news for you.”

“That’s wonderful!” you said “Paula, can you bring Lottie some biscuits and tea?”

“Of course ma’am,” she said and walked out of the room, and you and Lottie sat down on the sofa.

“What’s the good news?” you asked and she squealed, shifting her weight.

“I wanted to tell you before the ball tonight,” she said. “And Tony will tell Benny and Colin this afternoon but I couldn’t wait until then.”

“Couldn’t wait for what?”

“We’re getting married!” she exclaimed and your eyes widened, a gasp getting caught in your throat.

“What?!”

“Yes and we will tell the rest of the family tonight—”

“Wh-how?!” you asked as a happy laugh escaped from your lips and you hugged her. “Congratulations!”

“Thank you!”

“You must tell me everything from the beginning,” you said as you pulled back. “How did he ask? When did he ask?”

An abashed look crossed her face and she cleared her throat.

“Well, um…” she said, nibbling on her lip. “It’s sort of—you must first promise me you will never tell anyone.”

“Of course I will not,” you assured her as a maid walked in with a tray of biscuits and tea. You thanked her, and watched her walk away before turning to Lottie. “Tell me.”

“A week ago.”

“A week ago?!” you asked. “And you didn’t tell me? Wait, is this payback for—”

“No no, it isn’t!” she cut you off. “Of course not.”

“Then?”

She took a deep breath, then sipped her tea.

“Do you remember how Tony and I left Bess’s ball early?”

You tilted your head. “Yes.”

“Well we wanted to talk more you see, and I’m very familiar with sneaking into Bridgerton House because I used to do that a lot when I was little, and everyone was either asleep or at the ball,” she said, making you raise your brows. “And we…we did talk.”

A small smirk pulled at your lips.

“Oh?” you asked. “You sneaked into his house just to talk?”

She repressed a smile. “At first yes.”

“Then?”

“You and I had a conversation earlier that day,” she said, shyness apparent in her tone. “And you said that it felt divine, and I already knew Anthony and I are in love, and…”

Your jaw dropped and you let out a laugh.

“Oh wow.”

“And then he asked me to marry him.”

Alright, this was official; you were the only one who wasn’t consummating her marriage.

“But a week ago?” you asked, trying to focus. “You’ve been engaged for a week and neither of you told—”

“It was my idea,” she said. “I asked him to wait for a week.”

“Why?”

“Well…” she heaved a sigh. “I wanted to tell all of you yes, but Colin was still very heartbroken over what happened with Miss Marina and I didn’t want to hurt his feelings accidentally. You know, first Benny, then Daphne, now Tony finding love and not Colin, at least yet.”

You stared at her, warmth filling your chest. “You waited for a week so that Colin wouldn’t feel bad?”

She nodded.

“He’s like a brother to me,” she said. “We all grew up together.”

You reached out to squeeze her hand. “Oh Lottie…”

“But we will tell our families tonight!” she said. “And Tony will tell them beforehand, and I’m telling you now.”

“I’m glad you are,” you said with a laugh. “Well I’m so happy for you! I told you he would propose within the season.”

“I still cannot believe it,” she said. “I’m the happiest person in the world.”

You grinned at her.

“And I take it your night was divine?”

She gasped, a giggle escaping from her lips. “Y/N!”

“What?” you asked, feigning innocence. “I mean you’re marrying him so—”

“It was more than divine,” she said, biting on her lip in embarrassment. “It was perfect.”

Oh well, you were going to take her word for it.

Hers and Daphne’s and your aunt’s and Benedict’s, to be more specific. Considering everyone else had experienced it but you, you could only believe them instead of seeing it for yourself.

“I’m glad to hear it,” you said, a smile warming your face and she shifted on the sofa.

“The ton will not be very nice, I think,” she said. “They weren’t nice when they thought Benny and I were in courtship, or when I was in actual courtship with Tony, and now that we’re engaged, I can’t help but think—”

“Lottie,” you interrupted her. “What the ton thinks does not matter at all. Let them speak, they do little else anyway.”

She nodded slowly.

“I just…” she trailed off. “I just wish they knew how in love we are.”

You waved a hand in the air.

“They will,” you said. “Never mind them. Now, tell me what you’re planning for the wedding.”

By the time Benedict got back home from his meeting with Gordon, it was nearly noon and Lottie had already left. You had promised her you would be her maid of honor and help her with everything concerning the wedding, and you would be lying if you said you weren’t excited for it. Lottie had asked for your help with her wedding bouquet and the flowers for the wedding breakfast, and you were trying to come up with different combinations when you heard a knock on the door and lifted your head to see Benedict.

“Oh hello,” you said, closing your notebook before he could see the flower arrangement ideas you were writing down. He gave you a happy smile.

“Hey,” he said and stepped inside. “Working on something?”

“Maybe,” you said with a smirk. “Scared I will become your artistic rival?”

“Mm, I wouldn’t stand a chance against you,” he teased, making you giggle. He walked towards you to fling himself on the sofa next to you, then reached out to grab a biscuit from the plate on the small coffee table.

“How is Gordon?”

“He’s fine,” he said. “I think he’s working on a painting. The gala should be fun.”

“The gala?” you asked. “They hold galas for only one painting?”

“When it’s the painting of that big of an artist, yes.”

“Are you looking forward to your own galas?” you asked, making him grin.

“Let me get one painting into the Academy first, and we’ll build from there,” he replied and you shot him a look.

“I’ll remind this to you on your gala,” you mused and tilted your head. “I’m assuming I will be invited?”

“You’ll be the guest of honor,” he told you and you let out a laugh.

“I like the sound of that.”

“How about you?” he asked. “How was your day?”

“Rather interesting,” you said. “Are you meeting Anthony and Colin after this?”

He nodded, biting into his biscuit.

“Apparently Anthony has something he wants to say to us.”

“Wonder what that might be,” you muttered, trying to keep a straight face. Benedict shrugged his shoulders.

“Who knows?” he said. “And you? Any plans before the ball tonight?”

“I’ll visit auntie to see if she needs any help before people arrive,” you said. “I’ll get back around the evening, get dressed here and then we can go together.”

“Do you need any help before that?”

You bit back a smirk. “I can handle auntie,” you said. “Besides, I think today will be hectic enough for you.”

“Why?”

“Just a feeling,” you said and he narrowed his eyes, his whole attention on you.

“Wait, what do you know?”

“Nothing at all,” you said, feigning innocence. “It’s merely a hunch. Speaking of, shouldn’t you be on your way anyway? “

A chuckle climbed up his throat. “Are you trying to get rid of me, dear wife?”

Your jaw dropped.

“No!” you exclaimed. “I’m just saying, Anthony isn’t exactly known for his endless patience.”

He popped the rest of the biscuit into his mouth. “He should learn, I heard people say it’s a virtue.”

“Oh is that so?” you said with a huff of laughter spilling from your lips. “You know a lot about patience then?”

“Is this the part you call me the ton’s horizontal refreshment again?”

“If you’re going to claim to be a patient person, yes,” you pointed out, making him clutch at his chest as if he was heartbroken.

“Ouch,” he said. “I am a patient person.”

“You are the perfect picture of hedonism, that’s what you are.”

“Well hedonism is a bit of a—”

“Drinking, partying,” you said, counting with your fingers. “Being very intimate with a lot of ladies…”

The tips of his ears went pink and he cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You know what, you’re probably right,” he said after a pause. “I shouldn’t keep Anthony waiting.”

“You’re going to avoid this conversation just like that?”

“Judging by how our earlier conversations on this went, I’m taking my leave before you ask me—”

“Before I ask you how exactly it was like during those parties?”

“That yes,” he pointed out and pushed himself off of the sofa as you repressed a laugh. He leaned in to kiss the top of your head, making your heart skip a beat.

“See you in the evening,” he murmured and walked out of the room. You were painfully aware of the smile on your face, and you dragged the tip of your tongue over your bottom lip before you heaved a sigh and slipped a little on the sofa, leaning your head back.

You knew that Teddy had stayed at Josie and Andrew’s house last night because your uncle’s house was absolute chaos because of the upcoming ball, people working day and night. Not only that, the last you heard Andrew was letting him ride his pony inside the house so you were quite certain Teddy had no issues with the preparations of the ball.

You wouldn’t have been surprised if he began insisting on staying there half of the week to be honest.

With the way your aunt had been working to make this ball perfect, you could only hope that everything would go well tonight. Almost everyone you knew was going to be there, so you were sure that it was going to be fun.

Now all you had to do was to convince your aunt of that.

The carriage stopped in front of the house and you made your way past the gate, but instead of going into the house you figured you could check on your garden first. So you passed by the house to reach the backyard, then tilted your head when you saw your aunt there, talking to the gardener.

“Auntie?” you called out and she turned around, a look of surprise flashing over her face.

“Y/N my dear!” she said. “What are you doing here?”

“I just wanted to see if you needed any help before tonight,” you answered. “And to see the garden while I’m at it.”

“Oh that’s sweet of you,” she said and came to hug you, then pulled back to look at you better. “No need for that, almost all the preparations are finished.”

“In that case, can I see the ballroom?” you asked with a laugh. “I’m curious, you’ve been working on it for so long.”

She hesitated for a moment, then waved a hand in the air. “What would be the surprise then?”

You huhed.

“That’s fair,” you said. “Anyways, I have a surprise guest for the ball, you will lose your mind when you see him and so will the ton—”

“Y/N, perhaps you should go home and get some rest,” your aunt cut you off almost in a distracted manner. “It’ll be a long night tonight, you know?”

You tilted your head in confusion.

“Are you sure you’re alright auntie?”

“…Of course,” she said after a pause. “Just—you know, preparing a ball is rather stressful.”

“I can imagine,” you said. “One of the many reasons why I will never throw a ball I think.”

She smiled at you, but it faded when her eyes found something over your shoulder. You pulled your brows into a frown and turned around to follow her line of sight, but as soon as you did, you froze. You could feel your whole body stiffening, your heart leaping to your throat as you stared at the familiar face who had the audacity to smile at you, that throbbing pain in your wrist coming back in full force.

“I hear congratulations are in order?”

You weren’t sure how you found your voice, but somehow you managed to speak through frozen lips.

“Hello father.”

Chapter 34

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #regency fic

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honeybeezgobzzzzz · 11 months ago

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☠️ Something Dread, Something Red: Chapter Six

Something Dread, Something Red: Stuck in a proposal to a Marine Commodore, you escape minutes before your wedding in one last ditch effort to avoid getting married to a tyrant. Barely making it to the port of your town, you stumble across a ship just starting to leave and beg for passage off the island. You fail to notice that the people you beg for help, are pirates.

Warnings: None.

To Note: “Red Haired” Shanks x FemReader

Word Count: ~3.2k

Previous | Masterlist | Next

The Red Force is closing in on the port of Ingles, a town known for its construction services and lumber milling. The island itself is forested and sports mountains that Benn has described as a wilderness. It’s no wonder that the logging and construction business booms in Ingles, and you look forward to seeing the looming mountains. Kuri Island has hills—the Bonn manor is perched on one—but it holds no mountains nor thick forests. Even your best efforts to act ladylike can’t hold back the excitement running through your veins.

Now you are just standing on the deck, hands clutching the railing as you lean out and feel the wind and salt on your face. The white sleeves of the tunic you wear flutter and flap, dancing to the turbulent wind propelling the large ship across cerulean water. The town means you can pawn off your necklace and earrings for Berry, and then get clothes that fit you better.

You are more than thankful to be wearing Shanks’ spare clothing rather than your wedding dress, but the fabric dwarfs your body and is ill-fitting. The sleeves tend to drag when you help Lucky in the kitchen, and you have to use one of Hongo’s bandages as a belt to keep the trousers around your waist. Add the cut sandals practically taped to your feet… To put it simply, you look ridiculous!

But even in the ridiculous clothes that your mother would faint over if she ever saw you wearing such, you can’t help but bask in the feeling of freedom. You’ve never had the luxury of being in charge of your own clothing, you’ve never even worn trousers before, and there isn’t even a corset in sight! You sigh in happiness once more and beam, wondering what type of clothes you’d want to get for your new life.

Dresses wouldn’t be particularly useful to you, not when you find trousers so freeing and easy to move in, but you wouldn’t mind having one simple nice dress to have on hand. It wouldn’t hurt to treat yourself to a nice dinner at one of the restaurants Lucky has been telling you about. Even you know that certain dress codes are expected in certain places. So one dress will do. But you’ll mostly invest some money in tunics, trousers, two pairs of shoes, and a nice hat to block out the sun.

Then there is the glaring fact that you need to ensure your safety. You are no fool. The Blues are dangerous and filled with both good and bad people. Pirates. You are going to acquire a blade and learn how to use it (yet another task of learning you have to accomplish). Dropping your elbow to the railing, you rest your chin in hand.

“So much to do, I haven’t a clue where to start,” you speak to yourself, eyes watching the whitecaps forming as waves curl and crash.

“Well, for starters, we’re getting you into clothes that actually fit,” Shanks' voice softly floats into your ears over the sound of waves and Yasopp’s off-key singing. Twisting your head, you look at the red-haired captain with a pragmatic smile.

“Oh believe me, the first thing I plan on doing is choosing my own clothing. I’ve never been allowed to pick what I wear,” you reply as he takes a spot next to you. Your eyes look at the cloak he has draped over his arm stump. A cloak, you should get one too; everyone seems to have some sort of overcoat or the like. Shanks’ eyebrow pops up at your word choice but says nothing. He isn’t surprised that you’ve never been allowed to pick your own clothes. You’ve been nothing but a porcelain doll for your mother to play with. Shanks rubs his jaw in contemplation.

“The stores in Ingles focus on practical clothing, the type of clothes that are good and sturdy for traveling. It’ll be nothing like what you’re used to,” Shanks slowly explains, wondering if you’ll be bothered by less-than-luxurious fabrics. He doesn’t think you will be, but he’s yet to see you interact outside of the controlled environment of his ship. A thoughtful look crosses your face before you reply.

“Oh, I look forward to that,” you sigh in pure happiness. “These trousers might not fit, but they are a dream.” You glance down at the threadbare and simplistic trousers. “I’ve never had the luxury of feeling the wind against my feet and ankles.” Shanks wants to tell you that normally pants don’t reveal ankles and your ill-fitting trousers are far from luxury… but the glow of happiness upon your face is something he never dreamed of diminishing, so he keeps his silence on the topic.

“Just wait until you learn all about shorts,” he chooses to say, a grin creeping onto his face at the idea of how you’ll react to your entire legs being unhindered by layers of fabric. Shanks is sure you might even flop into a faint of excitement the moment you realize you could choose to wear something so revealing! He eyes your face a little more closely, drinking in the faint laugh lines and natural curves. The pirate is honestly stunned that you can still smile and appear so full of life after living in such circumstances as you had fled from. Turning his gaze back to the calm sea waters, Shanks looks forward to seeing what other delights are in store for you.

You are greatly embarrassed to say that your first few steps off the Red Force nearly have you face-planting with a far-from-elegant squawk. Benn catches your falling body early, large hands clutching your waist so you comically dangle in his grasp with your arms cartwheeling. You are sure that your face would be beet red if it were anatomically possible when he steadies you and all eyes are on you. Clearing your throat, you sway a little and take a deep gulp of air, trying to steady yourself again.

“Is it always like that?” you question as if you hadn’t nearly just made a scene of yourself. Your eyes are going everywhere in an effort not to look at their faces, for you feel like you might cry in embarrassment. Before any hot tears welling up in your eyes can fall, Bonk Punch speaks.

“Shoulda’ seen Monster the first day he was on the ship, took to sea like a champ, but when we got back on dry land for supplies…?” The man rubs his bald head in squeamish contemplation.

“Monkey vomit, for days,” Hongo rumbles, moving past you. “Tell me if you feel sick before you vomit on me, okay?”

“I’m not going to vomit on anyone!” you huff out indignantly, still dangling in Benn’s hold while the rest of the crew lumbers off the ship with containers to be filled. “That would be rude and unsightly of me!” Monster lets out a screech and swings himself onto a barrel to glare at you accusatorily. You regard the primate with a frank look. “I am a lady, you are a monkey. You have no expectations to meet, Monster. I do.”

Your words seem to make sense in the monkey’s brain because he leaps back onto Bonk Punch’s shoulder as Benn carefully sets you back on your feet. You still feel like you are swaying, but it isn’t nearly as bad as it had been.

“No one expects anything from you, Aria,” Shanks’ voice comes from behind you as he jogs down the gangplank, adjusting his hat. “So if you vomit on Hongo, no one’s going to judge, or care.” The doctor in question begins grumbling while your face burns.

“I will absolutely not be vomiting on anyone, and that is final!” you clearly state, stamping your makeshift sandal on the dock. “Gods, you are all such… such men!” You erupt, flinging your fingers upwards. Shanks only grins at you and holds out his hand to you.

“I’m glad you noticed. Now, why don’t you stick close? We’re going to be splitting up. The men will get supplies while I get you clothes,” Shanks tells you, watching as your face morphs to give him a look. He takes your hand and pulls you along. “And no making passive-aggressive faces at me, Aria. I already said I was paying and that is final.”

As Shanks pulls you along and away from the rest of the men, Benn leans over to Hongo.

“How much you wanna bet she’s gonna argue with him when it comes time to pay?” Hongo snorts and shakes his head.

“I’ll double whatever you’re placing… there is no way that little lady isn’t going to dig her heels in till the last second. Stubborn as a mule, that one…” Yasopp drops his arms over the two men’s shoulders.

“How ‘bout we make bets on how much he’s gonna spend ‘cause we all know she ain’t going to be allowed to part with a single Berry.” Hongo and Benn nod in agreement, fully realizing that no matter what you say or do, Shanks will be paying at the end of the day. “Alright! Who’s betting what?” Berry numbers are called as the crew makes their way towards the market.

You’ve been led back to the alteration room by Annie, the seamstress of Ingles, and stripped down to your lace bridal underwear and bra set. The woman hasn’t said a word about the clearly too formal undergarments but has informed her assistant that you will also be requiring undergarments with your purchase this day. Annie is no-nonsense in whipping your undergarments off to be measured, and within a matter of only a few minutes, you are wearing a set much more comfortable and appropriate for your new daily life.

Shirts are the easiest to pick out for you. You’ve indicated that you want practical clothing, something that will survive the seas but look nice enough milling around a market. Annie packages up nearly ten shirts of varying designs and colors, all to match the simple trousers you’ve picked out. Two pairs you’ve picked: cream and black. Those colors go with everything. You have picked a pair of grey trousers that are too short for your legs, stopping mid-calf, to wear out of the shop. Annie has tried to convince you to try on a pair that fits the length of your legs, but you have stated that you want to feel the wind on your ankles, so Annie has acquiesced. Now you are picking out a shirt to wear out of the shop and having trouble deciding on a color.

“What about this one?” Annie’s assistant offers, holding up a green shirt that reminds you a lot of the tunic that Shanks often wears. You blink at it, squint in observation, and nod.

“I like that color and style. It’s not too tight but also made from sturdy material,” you speak in approval. “I plan on spending a lot of time traveling. Is it easy to clean?” The assistant nods as Annie walks over, carrying fabric draped over her arm.

“That material is resistant to stains and tearing, but don’t go looking for knife fights,” Annie agrees, also approving of the choice. “It’ll be a good one for spending time at sea. The dye used is resistant to sun bleaching, so the green will last longer.”

“I hadn’t thought about sun bleaching,” you softly comment, scolding yourself for not thinking of such a thing. Your clothes won’t be hanging in a closet meticulously cared for by an army of maids. Placing your hands on your bare hips, you nod firmly. “I would like to wear that shirt out, please set it aside with the trousers.”

“Now, dear, you mentioned wanting to have a nice dress to wear?” Annie speaks, tabbing through some fabrics on a shelf. “Something to impress your man out there?” Your eyes dart to the front of the shop where Shanks is presumably reading the town’s paper. Heat fills your cheeks.

“Not mine, not mine,” you utter out frantically, holding your arms against your chest as if they would keep your heart from beating out of your body. Shanks is a very handsome man. Kind and generous too. But he isn’t yours, and it certainly isn’t a good idea to entertain such a thought… never mind that you don’t really know him in the weeks you’ve spent on the Red Force, and for all you know, he is a terrible person having a nice streak!

It would be nice to have a man like him, though…

You clear your throat, quelling the heat within your cheeks.

“Shanks is not mine. He is just being incredibly kind in helping me out of a tough situation I found myself in. Nothing more,” you say that last part more to yourself than to Annie, and the seamstress raises her eyebrow.

“Oh?” she spouts, eyeing you closer. You may think that you hide your emotions well, but the seamstress is no spring chicken. “Well, dear, not just any man spends this much on a single woman unless he’s got a claim.” That makes you sputter.

“But I said I would pay!” you erupt, embarrassment quickly shifting to anger. “I specifically told him that I would be the one to purchase my clothing, and he had already done enough for me!” Annie snorts this time and rolls her eyes. Oh, to be your age again…

“Tell that to the stack of Berry he handed to me when you were changing…” she says dryly, enjoying the way you huff and puff in belligerence. “Face it, dear, he’s paying whether or not you want him to.” You are left stewing in place as the woman begins to build the dress you want from scratch.

Annie has pinned the dress to your body and made adjustments until you are happy with the result, then spent an extra hour fussing over each and every detail of the lavender fabric that matches your hair so well. You don’t understand why she wants to spend so much time on a dress meant to be something that would never see a ball or gala… but she has muttered something about liking details and the beauty of simplicity. So you let her fuss.

Now you are dressing yourself in the grey trousers, green shirt, shoes that actually fit your feet properly, and looking at the selection of hats available. You’ve braided your hair back so it will be out of the way and less of a hassle while sailing the sea. Most of the hats will fit your need just fine, but it is going to be your hat. You don’t want just any old hat. Unconsciously you find yourself leaning towards the straw hats, liking the way they are simple yet will do their job perfectly.

Plucking a straw hat with a wider brim than others, your finger traces the black ribbon wrapped around it until you stroke the neat bow at the back. It is perfect! It is simple, will do the job, and has just enough femininity to it to match your wardrobe. Turning the hat, you place it on your head and adjust it before walking over to the floor-length mirror you’ve spent the morning standing in front of.

Oh my.

You hardly recognize your reflection. Gone is the refined lady of the Bonn family, replaced by a lavender-haired woman who holds herself with regality but looks like she belongs on a ship at sea.

“It’s perfect,” you sigh happily, running your hands along the coarse material of your trousers. There is nothing delicate about your trousers, your tunic, or your boots. They are built for travel, for daily trekking, for use. Fiddling with the strings hanging from your new hat, you turn on your heel and look to Annie and her assistant. “I’ve never picked my own clothes before. Does this look okay?”

“You look like an average traveler,” Annie tells you, walking forwards and nitpicking nonexistent creases in your clothing. “Which I believe is the look you are going for? Of course, nothing you wear will take away from your natural beauty, dear. Can’t hide that.”

“I just don’t want to be found by my family. It was trouble enough leaving them,” you sigh, picking at the end of your short braid. “Maybe I should dye my hair.”

“That’d be a right shame if you did, miss,” the assistant speaks up. “You don’t want to erase yourself trying to find your freedom. You might lose yourself entirely if you do.” She has a point; you can admit that. So you’ll leave your hair alone and hope that your luck will continue.

“Alright then,” you say, turning to address them. “How much do I owe you?”

“A smile, girl, and if you offer me Berry one more time, I’m going to sic your gentleman on you.” Annie tells you with a strict look. Your shoulders slump, and you let out a soft groan, realizing that Shanks has indeed won this battle. Very well. So you give Annie and the assistant one of your best smiles and thank them before venturing to the front of the shop. You can see Shanks standing outside, across the road from the shop, leaning against the railing of the overlook to the port of Ingles. No doubt he has felt cooped up in the shop.

Knowing that Annie will have your dress and clothes delivered to the Red Force when everything is ready and packed up, you depart the shop and quietly walk up to the red-haired man.

“Finally done, eh?” Shanks asks, admiring the view of the ocean and the breeze he can feel on his face. It is a rather nice day, he has to admit, too bad you have spent most of it inside. Perhaps tomorrow he’ll have more of a chance to show you around.

“I am not happy you wouldn’t let me pay,” you announce, stopping beside him and enjoying the view. Shanks chuckles and rolls his eyes. He has practically spent the entire day arguing with you over who got to pay for your clothes. Shanks has ultimately put his foot down and talked with Annie about not letting you pay.

“Consider it a gift, Aria. You’re starting a new life.” Shanks chuckles before giving you a brief glance. Looking back at the horizon, his head snaps back to you in surprise. He knows that you will be leaving the shop wearing new clothes, but he hasn’t realized just how fitting and beautiful you’d look in just pants and a shirt. While he stares at you, drinking in the sight and realizing just how well you’d fit in with the crew now, you blink at him and wonder if you look odd to him. He sure is staring for a long time.

“Do I look weird in these clothes? Annie said I looked fine, but I feel odd wearing them since I’ve never picked my own clothes before.” Shanks reaches up and flicks his finger along the edge of your straw hat, reminded of a certain boy he’d left behind years ago. You have the same passion in your eyes. A frightfully attractive passion he is slowly coming to terms with. Better move on before you catch on to the fact that he is unabashedly checking you out.

“You look like you fit in with a crowd, Aria. The clothes are perfect,” he says before straightening up. “I got word that the men finished with the resupply and found a tavern. We’ll meet up with them there.”

Date Published: 1/11/24

Last Edit: 7/29/24

Previous | Masterlist | Next

#red haired shanks #shanks x you #shanks x reader #one piece shanks #shanks

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nigh-temptation · 10 months ago

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An in depth look at the capital of Gulfeńn, Valkor! (Buckle up, this is a long one)

Before I start I should probably clear something up: For inspiration for coming up with Elven culture, I looked at Slavic, Balkan, Hindu, and Middle Eastern influences. The easiest way to think about it is this (if anything that comes up in this post is offensive to any of these cultures, please let me know and I will try my best to fix it. I am only human, and I am an American at that, so I can only go by my research 😅):

Clothing, Music, Language, and Patterning = Balkan

Language, Music, and Clothing = Slavic

Food, Architecture, and Religion = Hindu

Architecture, Desert Culture, Food, Clothing, and Music = Middle Eastern

Don’t worry, I will give examples and visual aid to help convey what I mean!

____________________________________________

Valkor: The Capital

Gulfeńn is split into four different provinces, or states. These provinces have their own biomes, traditions, and leaders. Valkor is one of four, and is simply referred to “Western Gulfeńn” sometimes.

(Spellings will be changed throughout tho will be changed to fit what I have in mind for the elves)

Population- 4.1 million

Valkor is a unique city, in the nature of its height. Valkor is located in a part of the Ośtavlet desert that dips into a valley, where it can reaches 104 degrees on average in the summer. The elves would have baked to death. So they settled on a huge, naturally forming rock spire. These desert spikes provide great shade in the unforgiving heat, and were the prime spot for elves to carve out their cities. The Yvvińna Palace was carved directly into the rock, while the actual city was built around the outside.

After hundreds of years, the rock on the spire started to crumble and erode. Scientists have been researching a way to regrow the rocks. So far, more and more houses have to be partially or entirely held up by sturdy metal beams. It’s not too bad yet…

Around the base of Valkor is a wall, and behind the wall is the rest of the city.

These neighborhoods are safe from heatstroke because of the shade that both the Wall and the Palace provide. Air conditioning is also free for those who live on the base (and for those who want it. Usually it’s only the human citizens who actually turn it on. Elves are adequately adapted to deal with the heat)

For those who live “On the Sky” as they say, it can get well near freezing during the night and during the winter months. The ecosystem up near the sky is more humid. More trees and plants can be found growing up there. Sometimes it even snows. Children who live on the base usually go near the top to play on the rare occasion it does. The journey from the base to the very top takes approximately 4 hours of twisty, windy roads.

Safety rails have been installed after many instances of people falling off the sharp cliff sides.

The Valkorian Throne is the highest throne of Gulfeńn, since the city was founded by The Oj Dolo (in the books, known as The Great Erlking). The Oj Dolo was seen as a sort of god in his own right, the equivalent to the Christian prophet Jesus, or the Islamic prophet Muhammad. Like both, he was a real life figure but ascended to legend.

(Quick note on Oj Dolo: imagine my surprise when I found out that “Dolo” is not only an actual Polish name, but also Oj Dolo is a song! I swear I had no knowledge of this until a month after I chose the name. I chose Oj as the prefix because I knew it meant “Oh”)

Thus, any Czar that followed in his footsteps, and took the throne, was seen as a mortal god (kind of like Egyptian pharaohs). Most elves will refer to the Czar with the prefix “Oj” (said like “oi”), as it is seen as respectful to do so for “god mortals”. This includes the royal family, and the Dzikaję (child of the Czar).

As for the elven goddesses, I will talk more in depth about them later (I don’t wanna overwhelm anyone with info lol), but for now just know that they have two: Seińn of the Sun, and Favšta of the Moon.

BONUS: in my version of the story, The Elf King, or Oj Czar Ykoda, was of the royal bloodline and was in an arranged marriage with the daughter of the Duchess of Stęńgard, Epopyja.

Also, just to get it out of the way real fast, here Lugźer (Luger), and Tręlis (Trellis) are cousins not brothers. And I have big plans for both of them >:)c

Here are some reference images of what I think Valkorians might dress like (all taken from Pinterest):

Don’t worry about their ears! They poke out of their head coverings with ease, and still have plenty of room to move

Last note, I was thinking that for the Oj Czar, he could wear a kokoshnik along with his mask:

(Credit to Alena Abramova for these amazingly intricate dolls!)

So his silhouette is still long and flowy, but distinct and intimidating

Next up will probably be a look at our main characters, and then I’ll probably do a breakdown of the timeline <3

#amulet series #prince trellis #kazu kibuishi #Cam’sAmuletRewrite #when I tell you guys that I have been sitting on thsi for a while I mean A WHILE #like… freshman year of highschool #I’m about to graduate 😭#anyways thsi little project has given me the excuse to research cultures that I didn’t know that much about #and Slavic folk music which I listen to all the time now #even though I haven’t a single Slavic born in my body #Irish American born and raised on the Missouri countryside

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mbrowne-writ-344 · 6 months ago

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Introduction & What's to come

Hellos and salutations!

My Name is Miah-Simone(You can call me Miah) and welcome to my Anime to Manga blog

To make things easy to understand, I shall first set the stage and have you answer a question:

Imagine your starting a show/anime for the first time. You haven't read so much as a description and have maybe seen only 1 trailer pertaining to said show. As you watch that first episode...

your jaw drops

your eyes widen

your moving closer and closer to your screen to take in the experience more! you NEED more!

and as your mind is racing with all that crazy excitement...its over. Episode 1 is over, and what's worse is there is no episode 2 until NEXT WEEK

Blasphemy! The Outrage! my disappointment is immeasurable and my day is ruined.

Has this ever happened to you?(Feel free to say and explain, would love to hear)

I ask this question to say: This happens to me ALL.THE.TIME.

but my answer to this tragic problem is quite simply...simple.

I hop on my phone, tablet and or laptop, look up the name of said anime, and read its manga until I'm blue in the face. I read until i pass out, until i see the beams of the early rising sun, until the device I'm reading from falls from the grips of my tired hands. I read until I.AM.SATISFIED(Or until i am caught up or have completed the manga)

and with the help of this blog, I'm going to put you guys on to some good ones. Both the anime and their manga

The ones where patience was banished

The ones where i couldn't put my device down

I laughed, cried, yelled and scared my previous roommate

By the end of this, You will want to not only watch but read until you are also blue in the face.

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mania-sama · 10 months ago

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with every line, a comedy

Exeunt - The Oh Hellos

➼ 04 - batter down my door when you find me defenseless ❧ Information (Summary, Tags, Chapters) ❧ Previous Chapter ❧ Next Chapter ❧ Word Count: 8,462 ❧ Cross-posted from Archive of Our Own

Thankfully, Kaveh didn’t stay up too late. No matter how tight the schedule or how close the deadline, he couldn’t work on any physical layouts until after the proposal design was approved. Alhaitham’s assumption was that the micro-layout construction would start the next night, which was going to be lovely for Kaveh’s recent lack of proper sleep.

It took a while for Alhaitham to fall asleep. His mind was whirling with ancient books, architectural designs, unknown nightmares, and a Dendro Archon. Usually, he could manage them enough to leave them for the morning, but that night proved to be a challenge. He partially blamed it on the matter of his hearing aids; it was always harder to keep his thoughts quiet with them on.

He opened his eyes to a lightning flash across a dark, vast sea.

Rain pelted against his hair and skin, soaking his shirt and pants all the way through. He shivered beneath the swirling winds as his feet struggled for stability on the wet deck boards. Grabbing for the wooden railing, the ship swayed with the storm. Lightning struck the sky, lighting up the world for half a second once more.

Waves rolled restlessly in the frothing ocean. They leapt like the maw of an angry beast, crashing against the ship and sweeping away the crew stationed near the front. Alhaitham watched as the men and women flopped against the wooden floor. Heaving water out of their lungs, they pulled themselves back up as best they could to man the masts and save their fellow crew members from falling under.

Alhaitham kept his balance as best he could as he let go of the railing and ran across the deck. The hatch was easy to pull open since it was already thrashing in the wind. There was a hand on his shoulder, but he smacked the crewmate away before they could pull him away. He escaped down the stairs the minute water flooded the surface, and he felt the reverberations of someone falling from the mast and onto the deck.

He closed it behind him, preventing as much of the storm from flooding the inside as he could. However, when he turned around, he could see the sides leaking and spraying the inside lightly with ocean water.

He still had another layer to get under. That was where the prisoners were.

Moving past the crewmates lying in their cots either due to injuries, illness, or simply having a death wish, he escaped down to the third layer of the ship. His boots splashed against the pooling water. It came up past his ankles and gushed from the walls like a wild beast in comparison to the tame trickle of the upper layer.

He didn’t waste any time, mainly because he didn’t have any. If the storm’s temper continued for any longer, the ship would collapse. With the crew's inability to stay on their feet, nobody could properly manage the helm. The ship was running on its own course and could capsize or wreck into a rock at any moment. It was why he wasn’t helping on the deck— he didn’t believe the ship could be saved.

Alhaitham pushed past the wide-eyed prisoners. Their feeble attempts at blocking his path in their desperation to be set free were easily ignored. There was only one person he would stop for, the only reason he came down to prisoner quarters.

He stopped only when he found a blonde-haired man, wrists tightly bound to the beam above his head like the rest of the prisoners. Instead of looking desperate or scared, Kaveh stared at Alhaitham with an entirely inscrutable expression.

Water dripped down his face from where it sprayed onto him from the ceiling and walls. His mouth gag was drenched with hints of red against his lips. Alhaitham pulled down the gag, allowing Kaveh to take deep breaths through his mouth. He shifted against the chains binding his hands, but there was no visible attempt to fingerspell anything.

Alhaitham took the initiative. “We are boarding the first lifesaver off of this boat. I won’t leave you here.”

All that he got in reply was the guarded gaze of deep ruby eyes, blinking away running salt water. Alhaitham’s hands shook as he pulled at the tight knot. It wasn’t coming undone easily, and his wet fingers kept slipping from the horse-hair rope. Its dampened state was binding it tighter into itself, requiring more energy to take it apart, and why wasn’t it budging?

The boat shifted in the ocean, rocking them side to side. Alhaitham struggled against the tide, nearly collapsing with the sway of the ship. He looked back at Kaveh desperately, but the man was slack in his half-hanging position. Those ruby eyes portrayed nothing as they stared and stared and stared.

Alhaitham retracted his hands momentarily — just to sign a message — and water began filling the bottom of the layer at an alarming rate. A new hole had torn open at the far end of the ship, emptying the ocean’s contents into the interior.

“Kaveh,” he signed. One hand finger-spelled the letter K while it moved in a circular motion with his other hand, which had its fingers extended and bent toward the other hand. After one full rotation, they pulled apart. “I can’t get the knot undone.”

On any normal day, he would’ve used the sword around his waist or the knife in his boot to cut the rope. But for some reason, he didn’t have either of them. He looked around, but he couldn’t see anything sharp floating in the water or hanging from the walls. There was absolutely nothing he could use to help him save Kaveh.

So he turned back, tried budging the damn rope with everything he had. It scraped Kaveh’s already chafed wrists, but the man was unfaltering in his empty gaze. He didn’t show any indication that he was in pain. Even his mouth, lined with swollen, torn lips from the gag, remained as straight as a line.

Finally, when the water reached his knees, his legs lost feeling, and lightning lit up the room in blinding light, he signed to Kaveh, “We are going to drown.”

Kaveh didn’t answer. Alhaitham turned around at the feeling of a tap on his shoulder, finding a little girl sitting on a green swing hanging from the ceiling. The ship rocked violently, sending the still water splashing against the interior walls and prisoners, but the girl and her swing remained steady. Lesser Lord Kusanali smiled sadly at him and released her fingers from the swing chords made out of plant stems.

“Kaveh is breaking his body,” she signed. The way she signed his name was different from how Alhaitham did. She formed both her fingers into K’s, touching them together in front of her chest. Then, she moved them apart, paused when she reached her shoulders, and ended by pulling them both straight down with flat hands facing inward. “Please hurry, my Scribe.”

Alhaitham hesitated after reading her sign, glancing back at Kaveh. Just like before, his unreadable face haunted the Scribe. His wrists were bleeding from where Alhaitham rubbed his chafing with the rope, and the hem of his shirt drifted on top of the waist-deep water.

It was all wrong. He wore dark prisoner drab— his clothes ragged, brown, and dusted with dried blood. His hair was turned dirty blond from being damp, and it was cut slightly shorter than usual. And his eyes, his ruby eyes that betrayed every emotion he felt, were empty.

The Scribe returned to his Archon’s glow. Kusanaili frowned and signed while mouthing the words, “The real Kaveh needs you, Alhaitham. Wake up.”

Alhaitham heard a crash and an anguished scream, and he opened his eyes to his pitch-black bedroom. Rather than ceasing, the sobbing got louder with each second that passed. It pierced through Alhaitham’s hearing aids and disoriented brain fog. As he threw off the bedsheets and hurriedly stumbled to his bedroom door, Alhaitham had only one thought:

Kaveh is killing himself.

The direction of the crying was coming from the architect’s room, just a couple of steps away, but he felt like he couldn’t get there fast enough. He knew, realistically, that it was highly improbable Kaveh was committing suicide. Kaveh had an incredible appreciation for life, even his own, in a way that Alhaitham struggled to comprehend. The idea of Kaveh dying by his own hand wasn’t necessarily unfathomable, but not something he should be assuming first and foremost.

However —

Kaveh is breaking his body. That was an undeniable truth. Whether by suicide, self-harm, or another sleep-walking accident, Kaveh was hurt.

He could hear it in his Archon’s voice, even though she hadn’t said anything, as he called through the locked bedroom door, “What’s going on, Kaveh?” He slammed his fist on the door rapidly. “Open the door! Open the door or I’m cutting it down!”

With the only answer being incoherent words through broken sobs, Alhaitham didn’t waste any more time. He summoned his sword in a burst of light and sliced the handle clean off. The piece of metal clattered uselessly on the ground, and he dismissed his weapon when the door swung open under his weight. It slammed into the wall with a resonating bang.

Kaveh was not in his bed.

Instead, he was sobbing in the corner closest to the door, luckily on the opposite side it opens on. He stared up at Alhaitham, face red and stretched with horror as his sobs turned more into half-screams. One leg was pulled to his chest, the other splayed across the floor where the ankle was attached to a rope, which was then tied to an end bedpost.

It was taut and clearly put a strain on Kaveh’s leg. When the Scribe took a second longer to examine the scene, he saw the angle at which his foot was twisted and the bone that was nearly protruding out of his skin. Red, angry chafing marks ran all over his ankle, indicating the struggle.

With the way that Kaveh was still trying to pull his leg back, Alhaitham was certain that the architect wasn’t quite aware of where he was or who had just barged into his bedroom. His unintelligent mumbling was becoming a little more coherent. Alhaitham heard the first discernible words as, “Get away from me!”

Alhaitham dropped to the ground to get on the same level as Kaveh, unsure what to do with his hands. His mouth was dry and his head was starting to hurt from the scene in front of him. “It’s Alhaitham. I’m not trying to hurt you. Look at me, Kaveh.”

Kaveh was looking. Staring, actually, but the spark of recognition in his shining ruby eyes never came. He yanked his leg again and let out a scream. “Stop! Let me— let me go home! I didn’t— I didn’t—”

“Look at me! You’re in Sumeru, you’re at home. You’re nowhere else,” he tried, but all Kaveh did in response was clutch his leg and heave. Alhaitham checked, just to be sure, that his roommate’s Vision wasn’t gone. It was sitting on the nightstand by his side, emanating in the dark room and burning with power. Why, then, had Kaveh not grabbed it and used his weapon to cut the rope? Why couldn’t he untie the restraint from the bedpost?

He shook his head and summoned his sword, flinching at the way Kaveh’s wailed leave me alone caused his hearing aids to ring sharply with feedback. The rope severed easily under his blade, the horse-hair strands snapping apart and releasing the tension off of Kaveh’s ankle and bedpost alike.

Oddly, Kaveh didn’t pull his leg back. He just let it lay there as he uncontrollably cried. “I can’t do it again. I can’t do it. I can’t do it,” he repeated over and over again, like it would somehow shake him from the reality he was trapped in.

Alhaitham’s sword dissapated in a flash of light. He didn’t know what to do. “Kaveh, please. Look at me. Look at everything else,” he said, his hands hovering in the air because he didn’t know if he should try to comfort Kaveh with touch or if that would just scare him even further. “I need to help you but you are making this extremely difficult.”

“I can’t… I…” Kaveh leaned his head back against the wall before letting out a sudden, sharp groan of pain. “Where am I? Why— Why am I here?”

“You’re at our home,” Alhaitham replied, fighting to keep his voice even as his attention split between the broken ankle and the tears still flowing down Kaveh’s scarred face. The architect twisted at his pain. “Nobody is here to hurt you. It’s just you and I.”

“The rope,” he murmured, his voice quivering. He didn’t seem any less scared than he had before, only now he was living in the present. “Why did you tie me down? What do you want from me?” He pressed his hands to the ground in an attempt to get up, but Alhaitham lightly put his hands on his shoulders to keep him down. If Kaveh tried to stand now, he’d likely step on his ankle and pass out from the pain.

Then they would have to go through this whole ordeal again.

“You can’t— I can’t—” He heaved, shuddering backwards at the direct instance when Alhaitham made contact with his nightshirt. The Scribe retracted his hands as though they’d been burned. “Let me out of here!”

“I need you to calm down. We can leave as soon as you realize you’re not in any danger,” Alhaitham said. “I’ve never hurt you. You tied yourself to the restraint last night; I had no part in it.”

Kaveh’s ombre-red eyes went back and forth between the rope still looped around his ankle and Alhaitham, his chest moving up and down in tandem with his panic. “I wouldn’t… I can’t… Don’t take anything else!”

Despite being a Haravatat graduate, Alhaitham couldn’t find the words that would help his roommate. A part of him still felt submerged in the ship rolling in the stormy sea, with Kaveh’s blank and judging stare observing his desperate struggle. After a moment of hesitation and watching Kaveh fall back into a sobbing mess, he did the only thing he could do.

He sat down on the wall beside Kaveh, stretched out his legs, and put his hands to rest in his lap. He kept his mouth shut and let the only sound in the room be the cries on his left.

The break was bad. Alhaitham didn’t have a license in medicine, but even he could see that the ankle shouldn’t have been continuously jostled in its state. The portion of rope still wrapped around the bone wouldn’t ease the pain at all. If they let it go for longer than necessary at that point, even a healer wouldn’t be able to correct the damage all the way. However, it was obvious that his voice wasn’t helping. If they continued the way they were, then Kaveh would likely do something to make the break worse.

So, he stopped. He’d have to let Kaveh come to terms with reality on his own, if that’s what it took. At least that way, they could optimally prevent more damage from being done to his ankle.

It was easier said than done.

There was something Alhaitham noticed throughout the hour or so he sat on the floor, listening to Kaveh scream and cry and beg Alhaitham not to do anything to him, was the way he was rubbing his abdomen. It wasn’t dissimilar to the way he’d held his leg the other night when it was hurting, even though there had been no more glass on that leg than his other one.

If he’d sustained an injury in that area from the initial fall from the bed, Alhaitham would think that it would have to be severe enough to overpower the pain of his broken and chaffed ankle since he was prioritizing his abdomen. The conclusion he came to was that, like his leg, his abdomen had been hurt somewhere in his resurfaced memory.

That let his mind run with reasonings about what had happened in his childhood. Being hurt in both the leg and abdomen was odd, and based on his extreme adverse reaction to the restraint, Alhaitham’s first assumption was torture. Coupled with his hysterical mutterings, he then inferred that it had been the result of a successful kidnapping.

Alhaitham frowned and kept his thoughts to himself. His heart burned with the mental images that wouldn’t go away no matter how hard he tried to get his mind to stay quiet. It wasn’t like he could risk taking off his hearing aids, either; he needed to hear the moment Kaveh’s breathing evened, the moment he indicated that he recognized Alhaitham and the house they lived in.

He couldn’t afford to fall into an anxiety attack now, so he kept taking deep breaths and watching that bent ankle as though it would explode if he took his eyes off of it. Kaveh’s cries of torture echoed in his bedroom and into his broken eardrums.

“Alhaitham,” Kaveh eventually muttered, broken and hurt. “The door was locked.”

It took a second for him to respond. His gaze drifted from the now-swollen ankle to meet wide, ruby eyes. “I know.”

“Did—” he hiccuped, “Why did you lock it?”

“I didn’t. You’ve been sleep-walking, so you locked it to keep yourself in.”

Kaveh never made anything easy for him. The way his lips curled into his teeth and his skin pulled as his eyes scrunched together when the tears started to flow down again made Alhaitham want to scream. Not because he blamed Kaveh, but because he didn’t know what to do with the permanent ache in his chest and his own watering eyes.

“I tied the rope, too.” Alhaitham hummed in affirmation. The less he said, the better. “Why did I do that? Why? Why… was I so— so stupid?”

“Are you here with me?” The Scribe asked. Perhaps he said it a little too loud, with too little emotion. Most of the time, he couldn’t tell when his tone was improper and he’d talk too quietly. It just didn’t click with him like it did with other people, namely Kaveh.

Kaveh didn’t reply for a second, his hand still rubbing his abdomen like it was an itch he could never relieve. “You cut the chain.”

“I did.” It was a rope, made of horse-hair and tied in a constrictor knot on both ends. It couldn’t possibly be mistaken for a chain. Kaveh turned his head to gaze at his ankle and used one hand to scratch at his eyes. His hair was in absolute disarray, and his nails were still coated with dry blood. There were stained spots along his face and clothes where the scabs must’ve been reopened.

The architect took a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m in so—” The attempt to fight back the sob failed, but it wasn’t due to being in a place that Alhaitham couldn’t reach. He was there, living in his bedroom with the Acting Grand Sage by his side, and in active pain. “Everything hurts so bad.”

“You broke your ankle. We need to get you to the Bimarstan and treated by a doctor,” he said, but the moment he finished, he knew he’d used the wrong words.

“No. No, I can’t— I can’t go there. They’ll take more,” Kaveh started, slightly pushing himself away from Alhaitham while vigorously trembling and shaking his head. “They’ll take more! You can’t force me. You can’t! You can’t!”

“Kaveh,” he began, but he cut himself short. Just repeating what had to be done wasn’t going to help. Clearly he wouldn’t comply with going to a doctor, and Alhaitham wasn’t keen on causing a concussion in order to knock Kaveh out for compliance. That’s nothing to say about the carefully-built trust he would break.

There had to be an alternative. He could think of one if he could organize his thoughts properly above his roommate’s begs to not go since the doctors will take more, for whatever that was supposed to mean. He found that he almost didn’t want to know.

Alhaitham couldn’t mend a bone or close wounds with his Vision, and Kaveh could only heal when the injury was elemental-reaction-induced. Since that requirement hadn’t been met, at-home healing was out of the picture. They couldn’t go to the hospital, and the closest Hydro-wielder they lived to was Nilou, who was currently in Port Ormos to meet with other dancers and performers. She had taken the opportunity as soon as Alhaitham lifted the performance ban on Sumeru.

That left him with Lesser Lord Kusanali, who would be nigh impossible to find. Even if he prayed to her, he assumed the most she could do for them would be to keep Kaveh’s ankle from worsening during their trek to seek help. She didn’t have any real healing capabilities for mortal injuries; as she had told him before, her healing power only extended to elemental lifeforms.

He looked at Kaveh, with his aching abdomen and shaking head filled with trauma of the past, he remembered someone.

“Okay. I won’t take you to a doctor,” he said slowly, and Kaveh gazed at him with pained relief. “Do you trust Tighnari?”

“Tighnari?” Kaveh parroted back. Alhaitham held his breath for the rest of the response. Technically, Tighnari wasn’t a doctor, but he was an Amurta graduate with significant healing capabilities. Even if he couldn’t heal Kaveh’s bone all the way, Tighnari could get it to the point where he wouldn’t suffer irreversible damage, and they could wait as long as they needed to for Kaveh to be ready to see a real doctor.

Along with that, Kaveh and Tighnari were friends longer than he and Alhaitham were. While they had both met Kaveh at the same time, the Forest Watcher and the architect stayed friends when he and Alhaitham parted ways.

“Of course I trust him,” he confirmed after a long, silent hesitation. “You didn’t do this to me, so I… He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t do it, either.”

Alhaitham silently thanked Tighnari’s existence, even if he’d spent half of his day cursing it. “He’s staying at Cyno’s place right now. We don’t have any time to spare,” he said, picking himself off the ground. “You’ll have to lean on me so you don’t put pressure on that break.”

Kaveh nodded, slowly reaching out with a trembling hand to take the Scribe’s outstretched hand. His grip was too loose, his hands wet and cold, so Alhaitham had to strong-arm Kaveh to stand. He didn’t mind it like he thought he would.

Adjusting their positions so his left arm was wrapped around Kaveh’s waist and the other was supporting the architect’s arm hanging around his shoulder, they painstakingly hobbled out of their house and onto the street. Kaveh groaned in pain and his breath would hitch with teary eyes every now and then, but overall he managed to bite down on his tears. Alhaitham felt Kaveh lean into his touch more than what was necessary, finding reassurance in the fact that Alhaitham was no longer inducing his panic, but rather easing it.

Cyno’s house wasn’t far from the Akademiya, and thus, wasn’t far from Alhaitham’s house. The unfortunate bit of it was that they had to make a shortcut through the Akademiya, which Kaveh was less than thrilled about. Kaveh bit snide remarks to Alhaitham about the studying students judging him, and Alhaitham responded by noting the fact that they were all too exhausted to care.

Even after everything that had happened, they were bickering. Alhaitham struggled to hide his smile.

It was possible to get through to Kaveh. They just needed time.

—

Something that Kaveh mentioned often was how massive Cyno’s house was. Alhaitham couldn’t argue against that — it was less of a house and more of a mansion. It was elegantly designed in a traditional Sumerian style with a sizable yard and pool on the side. Kaveh had said before that the house itself went to waste considering how little Cyno actually stayed at home. Alhaitham’s suggestion had been to convince Cyno to trade places with him, and the response had been a sour look.

After ringing the doorbell, Alhaitham knocked on the front door one, two, three times. They were evenly spaced, and he would’ve shouted for Cyno or Tignari’s name if not for the fact that he didn’t want to shout so close to Kaveh. He didn’t know if that would trigger anything, and he wasn’t in the mood to find out.

Kaveh shifted against his shoulder, accidentally putting pressure on his foot in the process. He doubled over, nearly toppling Alhaitham over in the process. A moment later, the door was pulled open to reveal a disheveled Cyno, who was thankfully fully dressed aside from an extreme lack of footwear. His polearm was clutched in his hand.

“Alhaitham?” The General Mahamatra’s sharp vermillion gaze flitting between them. His voice indicated that he’d already been awake for some time. “What happened to Kaveh? Were you two attacked?” He demanded, dismissing his polearm into shimmering sparks.

“Let us inside and get Tighnari. Kaveh’s ankle is severely broken and needs to be healed before this becomes irreversible,” Alhaitham ordered, then pushed past Cyno the moment he began to step out of the way.

“Since he can’t be bothered to say it,” Kaveh grumbled, “good morning, Cyno. Thank you for letting us in.”

Cyno nodded and followed after them. “Though it's quite early, good morning to you, too. Go to the living room, Tighnari will be down here shortly.”

Right. His sense of hearing was better than most people’s due to his fox lineage; he’d likely known they were there before they’d even knocked on the door. Their gait had to have been odd, though, which was why Cyno had been wielding his weapon — Tighnari hadn’t been able to tell that they were his friends.

Alhaitham set Kaveh down lightly on the humongous beige couch, namely because everything in Cyno’s house was big. There was a grand staircase in the foyer with two sets of leading stairs, and an elegant golden chandelier cut it straight in the middle. Kaveh would talk about the design for at least thirty minutes when they came over, and then for two hours afterwards when they returned to their comparably humble abode.

Now, Kaveh stared at the ceiling with his face twisted up in barely-restrained pain as Alhaitham adjusted his leg so his ankle would be propped up against a pillow. Finally, after all was said and done, Alhaitham fished Kaveh’s Vision out of his pocket and propped it on the armrest underneath his head. He’d grabbed it on the way out, for he knew how much that Vision meant to Kaveh.

“That rope around your ankle… Were you kidnapped?” Cyno questioned. Kaveh didn’t respond, only his teeth gritted to hold back any noises of pain. Thus, the General Mahamatra turned to Alhaitham, his normally blank and hard eyes narrowing with concern.

Before he had to give an answer, thundering footsteps came down the stairs and rushed into the living room. “Kaveh wasn’t kidnapped,” Tighnari said, pushing past Cyno and Alhaitham to examine Kaveh’s ankle. “He had a nightmare and jumped out of bed, breaking his ankle, right?”

Kaveh released a strained breath, and his voice was tight when he said, “Are we just telling the whole world my issues?”

“No. The burn marks around the end indicate more of a struggle,” Cyno noted nonchalantly, ignoring Kaveh’s commentary. “If someone hurt you, I need to know,” he added grimly.

At the lack of an answer, Alhaitham realized that Kaveh wasn’t going to answer anything related to his nightmare and injury. Which left it down to the Acting Grand Sage to do all of the talking.

He couldn’t find it in his heart to be irritated. Not when Kaveh was watching Tighnari gently touch his ankle with haunted, hurt ruby eyes and the various cuts still apparent throughout his face.

Alhaitham sat down on the edge of an armrest on the loveseat closest to Kaveh and cataloged what he should and shouldn’t say. Lesser Lord Kusanali’s advising words replayed in his head, warning him of the reason she hadn’t revealed Kaveh’s past to him. Reservation and trust.

He kept those two words in mind as he responded. “Kaveh has been sleep-walking every night, so he decided to prevent the issue by restraining himself to the bed using a rope knotted around his ankle. When he started sleep-walking tonight, he fell out of bed and couldn’t untie the rope. His Vision wasn’t on his person, so he couldn’t cut it off, either.”

If they started to ask for more details, it would get trickier to answer. Nothing he couldn’t handle, of course, but it would’ve been easier if Kaveh had spoken to him more on the topic. That way, he would know what he should and shouldn’t say, and what he would get away with saying that would only irritate Kaveh, not destroy his trust.

The General Mahamatra observed him intensely, clearly trying to detect the potential half-truths and lies in his words. He had no doubt that he could. Whereas Tighnari can manipulate a conversation to reveal the truth, Cyno has an innate sense of being able to know based on an individual's hidden or non-hidden tells. His intuition was even better than Alhaitham’s.

Cyno opened his mouth to ask another question, presumably about why they chose to go to his house instead of the twenty-four hour hospital, but Tighnari cut in before he could utter a word. “I’ll have to numb the area before doing anything else,” he announced, mostly to Alhaitham and Kaveh. “The rope will need to be taken off fully before I can set the bone, and both processes will hurt like a Rishboland Tiger attack if you aren’t numb or asleep. I don’t have the materials to make anesthesia here, so this will have to do.”

“Fine,” replied Kaveh curtly, though there was a certain level of shakiness in his voice that couldn’t have just been from the pain. Alhaitham narrowed his eyes, still unable to put the pieces together on what exactly happened to Kaveh.

His first educated guess had been torture since it was the clearest and most reliable assumption. However, the utter fear of doctors and refusal of a hospital was a sharp curveball that hit Alhaitham right in the gut. He knew it had to be related to the uncovered memory; Kaveh had never shown a reservation to the doctors aside from his apprehension of needles. It was a fairly common phobia, so he had never thought much of it.

Alhaitham wanted to talk to Cyno about it, which was astonishing since he could count on one hand the number of times he’d actually desired to talk to the General Mahamatra. However, this was important; he needed to access cases on past illegal medical experiments and recover kidnapping survivors. As the Acting Grand Sage and Scribe, he had the authority to handle those case files.

Reservation and trust.

He did not hold ill-intent toward Lesser Lord Kusanali, but he respectfully wished he’d never come to her for advice. That way, he would be able to do whatever he wanted without having true wisdom hold him back.

Because, well, he had to admit that she, the Goddess of Wisdom, was right, and Alhaitham shouldn’t sift through documents that could prevent Kaveh from ever healing. Any discussion with Cyno about Kaveh’s past should be purely theoretical until the man himself reveals the truth.

Kusanali’s little hands signing his and Kaveh’s name flashed in his mind’s eye.

Tighnari retrieved his materials and began working on them in the living room. Cyno didn’t pay any mind to this. In fact, there were very few rooms in the house that were actually lived in. As a general rule, Cyno made sure to keep his house neat and uniform, but there were qualities to the living room, kitchen, and bedrooms that separated them from the rest of the areas of the mansion. It showed a life of family and friends, not the barren life of an average rich Akademiya graduate.

Speaking of which, there was someone missing from their impromptu get-together. “Is Collei asleep?”

The Forest Watcher sighed, one of his ears flicked at the question. “She had a nightmare. We had just calmed her down when you two came knocking,” he said, looking between Alhaitham and Collei with a critical expression. “I told her she could come down if she liked, but I don’t know. She’s quite shaken and may want time to herself. And with the contents of her nightmares, this medical treatment might make her uncomfortable.”

Alhaitham noticed Tighnari had been in a similar state as Cyno when they arrived. At first, he thought the disheveledness and lack of sleep had been due to an entirely different reason involving certain dreams of a fox. Upon closer inspection, he realized that there were no love marks anywhere to be found, and they lacked any distinct smell. They’d only been awake so long because of Collei.

A syringe was filled carefully with a clear liquid substance that Tighnari had made from paste, which had come from herbs that he’d quickly mashed together. That was another odd quirk about Cyno’s house — Tighnari owned more of it than the General Mahamatra himself. Various plants, herbs, and medicinal devices were stored in more than a few rooms in the house, making it look more like a greenhouse than a normal mansion.

In this especially unique emergency, Alhaitham can’t complain about it. He’d never particularly cared in the first place, but if he’d ever had any buried reservations, they were now long gone.

“I have to inject your ankle four times to get it entirely numbed,” Tighnari warned, handing the architect a hard piece of wood. Kaveh took the wood block and glared at the needle as though it had personally offended him. “Bite down on that. I’m injecting directly into nerves, so it’s going to hurt like hell. That’ll help you refocus your pain.”

Kaveh nodded, placing the thin block securely in his mouth. As the needle got closer, Alhaitham noticed that Kaveh’s hands were trembling. It wasn’t just that; it was his breathing, labored and uneven, and his ruby eyes that had tried to only reveal his usual, diluted apprehension to shots, now blown wide with fear.

And the way he wasn’t even really looking at the needle itself anymore.

“Cyno,” Alhaitham started, crossing his arms over his chest, “has Tighnari told you about his dreams yet?”

The first needle was in, pumping the liquid, and out by the time Cyno had replied with a slightly confused, “Yes, but he hasn’t gone into detail.”

Both the Forest Watcher and the architect were looking at him incredulously. Both had to have been for pretty much the same reasons: one, there was no reason for him to bring up such matters that he didn’t care about, shouldn’t care about, and two, it definitely was not the right time nor place to talk about them in the first place.

They were right in their assumption in the first contention. Alhaitham didn’t care about Tighnari’s sexually-charged dreams outside of the humorous vantage point. However, he knew it would catch Kaveh’s attention and keep him from spiraling, at least before the first shot was even done. And in that case, he was already proven correct.

Tighnari’s ears were pressed back against his head as he pressed down for the next spot to inject. “We are not having this conversation right now.”

“Is there something I should know?” Cyno asked. His voice was edged in worry that Alhaitham didn’t find as funny as Tighnari’s flushed face. The main point of the discussion was brought back to his attention when Kaveh groaned against the wood block, eyes squeezed shut and hands trembling as the second shot was injected.

Alhaitham continued: “Tighnari has learned a lot more about restraints since he has started dreaming. It doesn’t come as a surprise to me that he was so quick to understand Kaveh’s situation.”

“Shut up!” The Forest Watcher hissed.

The syringe was pulled out, and although Tighnari was emanating the energy of what could only be described as seething fury, he didn’t falter in the medical procedure. Either he understood what Alhaitham was doing and was playing along, or he only saw the severity of the ankle break and the urgency to fix it. As long as the work was being done, Alhaitham didn’t care either way.

“That’s… not appropriate for the situation,” Cyno said, his eyebrows drawn in confusion.

Kaveh uttered something, but it was ultimately muddled by the woodblock in his mouth. His face was screwed into a horrified, pained expression that only appeared when Alhaitham deliberately made things awkward.

The third shot went in. “I agree. Let’s stop talking about it,” said Tighnari. His face was still red with heat, and the way Cyno was eying him certainly wasn’t helping.

“Honestly, I was shocked that you both had clothes on when I arrived,” he added, causing Kaveh to cover his face with his hands and groan. There was only one more injection left.

Cyno shook his head. “I was very tired from work, and we were both worried about Collei. It didn’t even cross our minds.”

“It didn’t cross yours, ” Alhaitham corrected. “Tighnari has told me—”

“Tighnari hasn’t told you anything, Haitham,” Kaveh said through gritted teeth, the wood block lying in his hand. The botanist retracted from the ankle, the syringe completely empty. “Stop being lewd. It’s incredibly embarrassing.”

Alhaitham huffed.

“Moving on! We have to wait until your ankle is entirely numb before I can do anything. The break isn’t as severe as Alhaitham thought it was, so I’ll only be realigning the bone and putting you in a makeshift splint until you can get a real one,” Tighnari informed. “Surgery won’t be necessary, but you should still see a specialist. My business is more in illnesses and infections than broken bones.”

“... Yeah, of course. I can’t thank you enough for your help so far. If there’s anything you need, I can—”

Holding up his hand and shaking his head, Tighnari effectively cut Kaveh off. “The way you can repay me is by taking care of yourself. I have no interest in materialistic debt.”

“Speaking of which, why did you come here instead of the student hospital? In order to get to my house, you had to cut through the Akademiya,” Cyno commented. “You would’ve received more efficient and professional treatment if you’d stopped there.”

Alhaitham made eye contact with Kaveh, who looked like he was caught in the midst of a mental battle. The Scribe made no indication he would assist in the fight. After all, he highly anticipated the answer Kaveh was going to provide. Would he continue to put up a front in front of all three of his closest friends, or would he finally break down and reveal the truth that’s haunting his dreams?

He also wondered what kind of excuse he could make up that would appease both Tighnari and Cyno.

“I had a nightmare,” he began, and Alhaitham listened with rapt attention. “In it, there were procedures being performed in a hospital against my will. I couldn’t even stomach the idea of going to one when I woke up, so we came here instead.”

Quiet acknowledgment blanketed the living room. Alhaitham watched Cyno take in the information, the way he searched for any dishonesty or distortion of reality in his words. The Acting Grand Sage had already come to his own conclusion, but it wasn’t a detriment to seek a second opinion.

Eventually, Cyno nodded. “Collei has been experiencing a similar phenomenon. I understand your reservation.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Tighnari asked gently.

Kaveh sucked in a breath. “No, I don’t.”

It was a little disappointing how no one in the room pressed for more information. The way Kaveh answered was equally as much of a let down; it was what exactly Alhaitham had anticipated. Kaveh’s words had been crafted like he was making up another childhood memory, diverting the conversation away from his parents, or explaining his utter lack of mora. He wasn’t technically lying, but the entire truth was complicated enough that the simplified sentence wasn’t sufficient.

It was utterly annoying and in this scenario, concerning . His broken ankle, propped up on the floral-patterned pillow, was the equivalent of poisonous gas in a sealed chamber. Kaveh was breathing in all the toxic air, and his friends were forced to watch.

Rather, Alhaitham was forced to watch. Tighnari and Cyno didn’t know the extent of it. They hadn’t seen Kaveh behave as though he was a prey animal screaming in the jaws of its predator. The way he screamed bloody murder when Alhaitham tried to calm him down, or the anxiety over phantom pains of injuries long healed.

He thought of young Collei in her room upstairs, alone, and an odd sense of guilt crowded his chest.

“Can you feel this?” Tighnari asked while using a furry-looking leaf to tickle Kaveh’s ankle. At the architect’s denial, he motioned for Alhaitham. “While the break is bad, the knot is the biggest issue. It’s tied almost to the point of cutting off his circulation. Just slice it off — if you try to unknot it, it’ll make it worse.”

Alhaitham had noticed it. Kaveh’s foot had increasingly become discolored as they’d been in the living room. He hadn’t seen it in the darkness of their apartment, and he hadn’t been looking out for it when they were walking through the city. He mentally cursed himself; he should’ve cut it at home when he had the chance.

Summoning his sword, he finished the job and did what he couldn’t for the Kaveh of his dream.

The skin underneath the rope was black and purple from indentation marks. Crusted blood stained the area maroon along with a bumpy rash, revealing more of the struggle he’d put up against the self-induced restraint. Kaveh didn’t make an indication that he’d felt the blade nick his skin or the rope unconstricting his twisted bone.

Cyno was ordered by Tighnari to retrieve supplies to clean the ankle as well as to materials to make a splint, and he’d left without a word against him. Alhaitham almost made a comment to Kaveh about how some people can listen to their roommates, but he reasoned against it. Thoughts of hospitals, surgery, and children kept in chains poisoned his normal behaviors.

Putting his hands on either side of the ankle, Tighnari gave Kaveh no time to think about what he was about to do before a loud crack sounded in the room. The bone aligned itself into its rightful position, and all Kaveh did was look at it with a stunned expression.

“It’s not the first time I’ve had to do it, and unfortunately I don’t think it’ll be the last,” the Forest Watcher said bitterly, leaning back from the ankle. “With the sudden craze over Aranara, adventurers are getting themselves into more and more trouble. It’s such a pain.”

At that, Kaveh’s eyebrows furrowed. “Can Aranara heal people?”

“I believe so, but they seem to be picky about who they do and don’t heal, and to what extent,” Tighnari answered. His tail twitched in a clear sign of agitation. “I was talking with the Traveler about this topic, actually. They said that Aranara don’t all have the same level of power, and most Aranara are too skittish to approach adult humans. I’ve personally seen children who had their wounds inexplicably treated or healed without having come across a healer or even another human when they got lost in the forest.”

“Huh,” was all Kaveh said. Odd.

Cyno came back with everything that Tighnari asked for, and he quickly went to treat the rope burn while the botanist worked on the splint. There wasn’t anything left for Alhaitham to do except think, which he considered himself to be exceptionally good at. With Kusanali’s warnings in the back of his mind, he began to analyze everything Kaveh had said and done since he’d woken up in a panic and broken his ankle.

There were three key facts that Alhaitham learned, without a doubt, happened in Kaveh’s childhood memory:

One. Some kind of medical procedure had been performed without his consent or going directly against it.

Two. He had been restrained with at least one chain at some point during his containment, whether that be before, during, or after the medical procedure.

Three. He had been kidnapped away from home.

In comparing the words Kaveh spoke while in the midst of his post-traumatic attack versus after he’d arrived at Cyno’s house, Alhaitham found differences that didn’t necessarily contrast each other, but simply made finding the truth more complicated. It prevented a concrete conclusion, much to the Scribe’s dismay.

Kaveh thought before he did anything. Whether that be speaking or acting, there was always some level of consideration that what he did would change the course of either his life or the person or people in front of him. Even in his state of delirium, his panicked exclamations and desperate attempts at fleeing weren’t without merit. They spoke volumes to his state of mind and how he had handled his original containment.

Alhaitham was having a uniquely hard time piecing together all of the information. It floated around in his brain, Kaveh’s strained voice echoing in his head. They’ll take more. I can’t do it. Get away from me. Can Aranara heal people?

Then there were the injuries; the leg and the abdomen. Were they sustained from surgery, torture, or escape? If it was surgery, what did they take from his leg? The abdomen provided access to a plethora of organs, but the leg only had flesh, blood, and bone. As far as Alhaitham was aware, Kaveh wasn’t lacking any bone marrow, nor did he have a steel rod in place of a femur or tibia. Torture could explain both. Escape was a wild card — had he managed to run and find freedom, or did it fail, and he had to wait for rescue?

It just wasn’t enough. Without access to documentations concerning child kidnappings, human experimentations, or hospital malpractice lawsuits from twenty years ago, he couldn’t say definitively what happened, where it happened, and who did it.

He stared at Kaveh and saw a glowing, Dendro green luminescence outline his form. He blinked, and it disappeared. Kaveh looked back at him with a concerned yet guarded expression.

The Acting Grand Sage wondered what was going to happen when Kaveh had his next nightmare. First was an escape into cold weather. Second was shattering glass and bleeding cuts all over the body. Third was a broken ankle and a post-traumatic attack.

Alhaitham felt his heart fall for a century. He turned his gaze away from red eyes and scars and a swollen ankle, focusing his energy on watching Tighnari make a splint. They carried on a conversation without him.

Lesser Lord Kusanali was right. He shouldn’t know what happened without Kaveh telling him. He shouldn’t look for the information, and he shouldn’t try to piece it together on his own. But not having that material knowledge, not being certain of what happened to Kaveh, left his throat dry and his hands shaking despite his best attempts at controlling them.

“There, it’s all done,” Tighnari finally said, fitting the splint on Kaveh’s foot and ankle. It was halfway made from Dendro and Electro energy, the combined efforts of the General Mahamatra and Forest Watcher, in order to have welded the metal into rods and fitted around the heavy fabric. “Do you want to sleep out here or in a bedroom?”

Kaveh didn’t hesitate when he replied, “Here is fine. I’m already comfortable.”

“What about you, Alhaitham?”

It was obvious that no one had considered Alhaitham would go back home. Surprisingly, he realized that he didn’t yearn for his own bed. All he wanted was to be within arms reach of Kaveh, wherever that may be.

“I’ll stay in here,” he settled on. He didn’t miss the way Kaveh’s lips twitched upwards for half a second.

Tighnari nodded and lightly touched Kaveh’s shoulder. “I know this is hard for you, but if you ever want to talk about your nightmares, we are always open.”

“You could say we are all ears, ” Cyno added tonelessly.

Honestly, Alhaitham couldn’t understand why Tighnari chose him of all people.

Despite the horrible joke, Kaveh smiled and thanked them both. “Sleep well, you two. If Collei is still awake, send her my condolences. I’m having a hard time with this, and I’m an adult. I can’t imagine how she’s dealing.”

And that was that. They promised to carry the message, wished them both a good night, turned off the lights, and disappeared up the stairs. Kaveh shrouded a blanket over himself, floral-patterned and soft to match the pillows. The Scribe moved to a bigger couch further away from Kaveh and ignored the tug in his gut that tried to pull him backwards, closer to the architect.

He splayed himself out over the couch, which was admittedly comfortable. It wasn’t as good as a bed, but it was fairly softer and wider than the ones they had at home. He kept his hearing aids on and closed his eyes, reminding himself of Kaveh’s presence just a few feet away from him. Alhaitham knew the architect wasn’t getting any more sleep that night.

“Hey,” Kaveh whispered into the dark after minutes of silence. “Thank you, Haitham.”

Alhaitham would’ve teased him for it. He would’ve had Kaveh say it two more times, just for the sake of it. He would’ve made them go back to bickering.

He thought of Kaveh. Thought of him trapped in a burning house, drowning in a ship, chained in a hospital; thought of surgeries, children, and Aranara; thought of Archons, knowledge, and emotional intelligence; thought of Tighnari, Cyno, and Collei.

“I will be there for you.” Even if he couldn’t help. Even if he couldn’t save him. Even if Kaveh suffered alone in his nightmares every night. “Always.”

He didn’t acknowledge the stifled sniffle and hitched breath. Kaveh deserved at least that much privacy.

#fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #genshin impact #genshin fic #genshin fanfiction #genshin fanfic #genshin impact fic #kaveh #alhaitham #genshin kaveh #genshin alhaitham #kavetham #kavehtham #kaveh x alhaitham #alhaitham x kaveh #al haitham #kavetham fic #genshin kavetham

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ryqoshay · 18 days ago

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A Perfect World - Reverie

Starring: Karin, Kanata Side Pairing: EmmaKarin Words: 603 Rating: G AU: a perfect world... Time Frame: ??? Prompt: Reverie

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Summary: Kanata has a new product for her favorite customer

Author's Note: Bonus second entry for the 2nd

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“Karin-chan! Welcome.” Kanata said with a sleepy smile. “You’re just the customer I was waiting for.”

“Oh?” Karin asked as she walked across the lobby.

It had been over a month since Karin had started patronizing Somnial, a shop owned and run by Kanata that specialized in sleep and dream aids. Emma had suggested it to Karin to help deal with insomnia. And while Karin’s sleep deprivation had not gotten worse, improvement had been agonizingly slow. Still, Emma continued to encourage Karin. And Karin would be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy her daily slumbers and being overseen by the adorably lethargic Kanata.

“Kanata-chan got a new product in.” Kanata stooped behind her desk to retrieve something. “Here we are.” She sat back up and held out a small box. “Reverie.”

“Hmm…” Karin leaned in to inspect the product.

The device depicted on the box was a rather unassuming ovaloid. However, various displayed accessories revealed it could be worn on a necklace, kept on a belt, or stored on a desk, table or shelf.

“What does it do?” Karin asked.

“Reverie.”

Karin raised an eyebrow.

“Or rather, it assists one in achieving a state of reverie.” Kanata corrected. “It does not directly induce it.”

“By magic? Scent? Alchemy? Psionics?” Karin recalled the multitude of methods she had tried over the weeks of coming to the sleep shop.

“Vibrations.” Kanata wiggled her fingers as though to visually represent said vibrations.

“Huh.”

“It can take a few uses to adjust its frequencies to its unique users or can be set manually via app. Oh, and it can support up to three users, individually or simultaneously, so long as no two users’ frequencies cancel each out.” Kanata explained. “So, Emma-chan can use it with you. And even someone else if you want.”

“Emma has expressed interest in finding something we could share.” Karin admitted.

“And as apology for the issues with your at-home dream aid, Kanata-chan is willing to offer Karin-chan a free trial of Reverie. If after a week, you don’t like it, simply return it. And if you do like it, Kanata-chan will even give you discount to purchase it.”

“That is very generous, but…”

“Kanata-chan insists.” The shopkeep pushed the product closer to Karin.

Karin smiled and accepted the box. “Alright. Thank you.”

“Now, what in house dream aid would you like to try today?”

---------

“Karin-chan! Welcome.” Kanata said with a sleepy smile before perking up. “And Emma-chan, too! It’s Kanata-chan’s lucky day!”

“Long time, no see, Kanata-chan.” Emma replied. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for Karin-chan.”

“It has been my pleasure.” Kanata’s smile grew. “So, what can I do for the lovely couple?”

“First, I want to conclude my trial of Reverie.” Karin spoke up.

“I’m assuming it went well?”

Karin nodded. “Very much so.”

“Daydreaming with Karin-chan has been so much fun.” Emma added.

“I would imagine so.” Kanata said.

“As such, I’d like to keep it, so please add it to today’s charge.” Karin spoke.

“With pleasure.” Kanata beamed proudly.

“Also, if it’s not too much trouble, Emma would like to join me for today’s session.”

“No trouble at all.” Kanata replied before donning a wistful expression. “Almost a shame Kanata-chan can’t join you as well. But I have to keep minding the shop. Today’s a busy day. Lots of dreams to be made for my wonderful customers.”

Eh? Did I hear that right? Karin wondered.

Her thoughts were disrupted by Emma’s lovely laughter.

“Anyway, enjoy your dreams, you two.” Kanata continued. “See you when you wake.”

And with that, Karin guided Emma to her usual room.

---------

Author's Note Continued: In a world where magic, steam tech, high tech, alchemy and all other fantasy manner of stuff exists to be exploited in the pursuit of Perfection, I love the idea that Kanata decides to use it all to help others dream. And maybe a few other things that I've only hinted at with prior Promptober entries.

I'm still building the Paragon world, so I haven't really settled on how exactly I want my EmmaKanaKarin trio to play out, but mild spoilers, it will be dark. Just like everything else in this "perfect" world.

Prior Prompts Used: Dream Time Somnial

#Konoe Kanata #Asaka Karin #Emma Verde #A Perfect World #EmmaKarin #EmmaKanaKarin #Love Live Nijigasaki #fanfic #Promptober 2024

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aishangotome · 2 months ago

Text

Chapter 3-8 The True Face of Lu Mountain (廬山真容)

Chapter 3-7

The room was quiet, and all the furnishings were still in the same state as they were the day of the crime, filling those who entered with a creeping horror.

???: Don't move.

A cold warning suddenly came from behind, followed by a hand covering my eyes and my wrists being tightly restrained.

Princess: Who's there?!

My heart pounded. The person's grip wasn't heavy, but I couldn't break free.

Princess: Let me go!

???: Has no one ever told you that being too bold can lead to a bad ending?

The man was very close to me, his warm breath brushing against my ear. His tone was unhurried and calm, yet laced with a threat.

Princess: ... My people are downstairs. If I shout, your ending won't be good either.

???: Oh, the little beauty is quite good at bluffing.

Princess: Do you know who I am?

???: Do you think I'm afraid of you, Princess?

Princess: .....!

???: Your body is so stiff, are you nervous?

???: Don't worry, I wouldn't dare hurt a beauty...

There was a smile in his voice. Just as I was quickly thinking about my next move, the hands holding me loosened.

I turned around and saw a blond man with cold, emerald green eyes. The blue snake was coiled around his arm, its tongue flicking at me.

???: We finally meet formally, Princess of Dacheng.

Countless fragments flashed through my mind - "Tuo bayu's" crude and disrespectful behavior at the court, the reactions of the Beikun people that night...

The familiar whistle, Su Luo's words to me, everything converged into a beam of light, dispelling the dark fog.

Princess: I'm just curious...

???: No need to say it. You must be eager to know who I am. I am--

Princess: The Prince of Beikun. Why hide your identity?

The man's expression flickered slightly, confirming my guess. The one who died here that night was his substitute.

Tuo Bayu: Heh, this is my first time in Dacheng. Naturally, I need to understand our most powerful enemy, and the identity of a prince is not conducive to action.

Tuo Bayu: But unfortunately, my innate brilliance is too hard to conceal. The princess still saw through me.

The frank smile and genuine trouble on his face seemed to come from the heart... Are all Beikun people this narcissistic?

Tuo Bayu: The princess seems to have many questions. I'm in a good mood today, so I'll allow you to ask.

Tuo Bayu spread his hands, showing a benevolent expression. Although this expression was annoying, it looked... not bad on his handsome face.

Tuo Bayu: But I'll only answer the ones that interest me.

... Even more annoying!

Princess: So, the first question, why are you here?

Tuo Bayu: Although my virtues are as numerous as the stars in the sky, I lack patience.

Princess: ..... We're quite similar in that regard. Get to the point.

Tuo Bayu: I can't wait for you to investigate slowly. I want to catch the murderer myself.

Princess: But the Beikun envoy has been trying to make a big deal out of the prince's death, using it to threaten my father...

Princess: Why are you helping Dacheng find the truth?

Tuo Bayu: Helping Dacheng? It seems that in the princess's heart, I'm quite kind.

Princess: .....?

Tuo Bayu: Someone wants to kill the Beikun prince. Do you think I would ignore this, Princess?

Tuo Bayu: Of course, I need to know who that person is and why they did it.

Tuo Bayu: And... make them pay a heavy price.

Tuo Bayu's smile faded, and a cold glint of killing intent flashed in his eyes, a stark contrast to his previous self-satisfaction.

Tuo Bayu: Besides, using this as an excuse to make a fuss, beating around the bush, being timid and hesitant, is simply too boring.

Princess: So that's why you helped us out that night.

Those snakes that suddenly appeared in the room but didn't attack anyone were a warning from him.

Tuo Bayu: Hmm... the princess isn't completely foolish.

Tuo Bayu nodded slightly with an air of arrogance, as if saying "not completely foolish" was already a compliment to me.

But in any case, at least for now, he wasn't my enemy. I secretly breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed my hand, which had been gripping the dagger at my waist.

Princess: It seems our goals align then.

Tuo Bayu: Goals? Did the princess not chase me here because she's captivated by my charm?

Such a fine prince, it's a pity he has such a mouth.

Tuo Bayu: Since the princess also wants to find out the truth, I'll impose on you and cooperate.

Princess: You... did you mean to say "reluctantly cooperate"?

Although we were cooperating, I didn't know where to start for the moment. I could only give him a smile that was as adoring as possible.

Princess: Prince, you're so handsome and intelligent, you must already have some clues, right?

As I expected, he nodded with satisfaction.

Tuo Bayu: Of course. As the brightest sun in our desert says, the best way to understand someone is to walk the path they've walked.

Princess: The brightest sun? Who's that?

Tuo Bayu: Me.

Seeing his unabashedly proud expression, I regretted my curiosity.

Princess: Please continue, oh sun.

Tuo Bayu: And the best way to find the truth is to get close to it.

Tuo Bayu: Princess, are you willing to cooperate with me and recreate the crime scene?

Chapter 3-9

If you’d like to support my translations, feel free to buy me a coffee here! :)

#搖光錄：亂世公主 #搖光錄 #搖光錄 translation #ygl #ygl translation #yao guang lu #yao guang lu translation #yao guang lu main story translation #princess in troubled times

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happi-tree · 2 years ago

Text

cursed, cast, cat

Hi, lovebirds!!! It's been a minute since I've posted frogshow fic on here, but this spooky au concept and @themissakat's wonderful art of it simply will not let me rest (they helped me brainstorm for it and the stuff they've made is absolutely GORGEOUS - check it out here and here if you haven't already). I'm planning on adding more to this au (everything on here will be tagged under #cc au), so you'll see more of it soon, and this short bit is just the beginning! With all that said and done, the fic is below the cut! Hope you guys enjoy this new variant of our favorite trio <3

<I found you something,> a teasing voice singsongs through their link, honey-sweet and syrup-thick.

Marcy hums and finishes tying her bundle of herbs together with red twine, stepping up on her chair and then the counter to hang it from the rafters with its companions.

<Please tell me it’s more weeping trillium,> she sighs back. <We’re almost out, and mail order is so expensive - >

<Even better,> the voice purrs, and Marcy can practically feel the smirk in its tone, the ghost of it threatening to pull at her own lips. She rolls her eyes instead as their door creaks open, the bell at the top chiming a cheery welcome.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” Marcy says aloud, eyes still focused on getting the twine to fasten tightly around the thick, oaken beam.

<I mean, I’d sure appreciate it if you looked,> the voice resounds in her head, snarky but warm.

“Okay, hang on, let me just - what did I tell you about bringing your kills into the house!?”

Sitting pretty just past the threshold is a rather large cat, brown-coated with darker markings around its face and paws like a Burmese would, but with luxurious, fluffy fur more comparable to a Himalayan. Said coat of fur is matted in places, speckled with burrs and forest detritus that indicate hours of scouring through the underbrush, and pretty gold-brown eyes stare up into hers.

In the cat’s jaws is a lump of brownish something that squirms in her unbothered grip.

<Firstly, rude,> the cat replies, promptly depositing the poor thing on the floor and casually trapping it beneath fluffy paws as it scrambles to get away. <That was one time, and I was half-high on the neighbor kids’ catnip! So not my fault. Secondly, she’s clearly alive.>

“I can see that,” Marcy says, catching flashes of amphibian-looking skin as the creature vainly struggles to free itself.

<And thirdly, I should get pets, because the way this one screamed at me the entire way here practically made me want to kill her.> The cat glares at its paws before letting out a shocked <You talk to your mother with that mouth? … Jeez, forget I asked.>

“Ooookay. Why on earth would you bring… a toad… to me?”

Marcy gets a light chuff in response.

<I’m gonna let you go now, but you gotta stay still or so help me, I will put you in my mouth again and both of us will hate it,> the cat says to whatever’s in its grasp before pulling back to sit on its haunches.

And sitting in the middle of their kitchen floor is the grumpiest-looking toad Marcy has ever seen. It beeps at - well, she isn’t sure who. Perhaps about the situation in general.

“Aw, that was cute,” Marcy coos. The toad beeps again, somehow angrier than before.

Maybe it’s… injured somehow?

The toad puffs itself up rather defensively under their twin scrutiny.

Marcy looks.

Oh.

She lets out a long, low whistle. “That is one heck of a curse you’ve got laid on you, ma’am.”

<I found her just from the smell,> the cat remarks. <So strong, I tracked her for acres before I got to ‘er. Pain in the nose, really.>

The toad makes a high, affronted little noise at that.

<The curse is what smells, lady, not you!> A pause. <Well, we’re gonna try to help you out, okay?> The mind-voice is soft and reassuring, a blanket to Marcy’s frantic inner monologue even when it isn’t speaking to her directly, and there’s a rush of fondness that Marcy knows the other can feel through their bond.

Amber eyes meet hers again. <This here’s Sasha, and she’s a fellow businesswoman!>

“A businesswoman, huh?” Marcy muses. “Well, lucky for you, I’m never one to turn away custom-ah!”

Marcy loses her footing on the countertop, foot slipping off the edge and sending her toppling face-first toward the floor. The cat dashes forward, surging upward, form growing and shifting and eyes alight with blue until -

A strong, sure arm wraps snugly around her waist, steady and tanned from the harvest sun, while its opposite spans across the backs of her shoulders. Marcy gazes up at her savior, taking in familiar mahogany-colored curls and onyx-dark eyes and full, grinning lips.

“Careful there, darlin’,” Anne says with a wink and a smirk, and Marcy can feel her face heat a bit.

“Ah.”

A leaf falls out of Anne’s hair. Marcy sends it back into place with a flick of her finger and a wink of her own, tucking one of Anne’s wayward curls behind her ear.

Anne splutters, and something sun-yellow and impossibly affectionate fills the cavities of Marcy’s chest. She presses their hands together, a habit-turned-spell, and she feels practically incandescent with the feeling, like she could-

<What the fuck are you guys supposed to be?> A new voice, steel-sharpened and moon-cold, breaks through Marcy’s mind and thus, the moment as well.

Oh. Right. The toa- the girl.

Marcy quickly clears her throat, untangling herself from her partner’s arms even as Anne mentally whines at her.

“Well, Miss Sasha, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Marcy Wu, and I’m a witch!” She exclaims with a dramatic bow and flourish. Sasha somehow seems even less impressed - it’s truly a marvel that she can express such an emotion with a toad’s face.

She gestures to the woman beside her, who rests a calloused hand on her shoulder. “And the lovely lady who brought you here is Anne, my loyal familiar.”

#i *did* say i would post this blurb tonight but i didn't expect it to be this late. guess it's before midnight somewhere though skdbfkabds #i'll rb this again at a more reasonable hour tomorrow 😅#gold star to those of you who put two and two together from missa's artworks!#and gold star to you if you're reading these tags <333 #anyway this concept is so fun and i'm having SUCH a good time with it. hope you guys do too 🥰🥰🥰#happi scribbles #fic #cartoons #amphibia #marcanne #ccc au #gotta love some good witchy vibes am i right???#long post

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head-empty-only-sunshine · 3 years ago

Text

Brighter than the Sun

Sunny X Reader

A/N: I know it's short but it's like a tiny love letter okay ;w;

Description: "How can you love a robot?" your coworker asks. Well, that's easy for you to explain. It helps when Sunny comes over to show them as well.

Tags: fluff, established relationship, gn!reader, no occupation described for reader

Word Count: 700

===

“How do you do it?”

“What?”

“How do you love a robot?” The night guard asked more directly.

You blinked, staring blankly at the night guard for a moment. You were originally just helping them out with a bit of cleaning before they started their shift with a bit of light conversation. When you got on this particular topic, you couldn’t recall, but it was definitely a bit jarring since you never advertised your relationship with Sun and Moon too openly. It wasn’t a common topic.

“Well… I think a good place to start would be to stop seeing him as just some robot. He is very much sentient, and quite intelligent as well.” You started off.

“R-right. It’s still a crazy concept to grasp that the bots even have free will like that.” The guard nodded.

“To me, it’s not that far-fetched. I mean, Sun and Moon both have beautiful personalities of their own uniqueness, and they draw me in.” You said, looking over at where Sun was currently helping kids find their parents. “Sun himself is so carefree, sweet, and radiant that it’s impossible for me to not be drawn to him. Dare I say he is comparable to the real sun itself with how bright he is.”

While you gushed, the guard looked over where Sun was to watch him usher off the last few remaining children to their parents. Once they were all safely with their families, Sun straightened up and glanced over where you and the guard were chatting at the desk. He waved at you with a wide smile, and you returned the wave with a soft smile of your own. The guard shifted their vision back and forth between the two of you while a small smile made its way on their face.

“Huh. Really…”

Now that all the kids were gone for the night, Sun had started to rapidly put away a few things in his path, looking like he was bubbling with excitement. It was the fastest anyone had seen him stack those colourful barrels before he made a beeline for you and the guard. Within seconds Sun had scooped you up in his arms and both of you were a laughing, giggling mess in each other’s arms. Both of you forgot where you were and got lost in your own world for a moment, briefly kissing and simply happy to be close again.

“You’re right.”

The sound of the guard’s voice snapped you and Sunny out of your blissful little realities, a bright pink blush now donning your cheeks. There was a moment of embarrassment shared between you, but the guard smiled up at you and huffed.

“Y’know, I think I get it now. You two… You two are perfect for each other. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a love so genuine and pure. You really meant everything you said about him, didn’t you?” The guard grinned. “Well, you’ve opened my mind _______. You two have fun for now though. My shift starts soon.”

“Ah. Glad I could… help. Have a good shift.” You nodded as they left, leaving you and Sunny alone.

There was silence for a moment, and then Sun started to look at you funny. You were confused for a moment until the grin broke out on his face, making you chuckle.

“So, you were talking about me hmm~?” Sun pestered, squeezing you tighter in his arms.

“I was, yes.” You giggled. “They asked me how I could love you, so I listed off all the wonderful things about you that I love. Not one lie was said, Sunny~”

Sunny started to get a little hot with excitement, his fans kicking in again as he began to pepper little kisses all over your face. Hearing that you were never afraid to show your love for him to others made him all warm and fuzzy, and he couldn’t help his rays from fluttering a little to express his joy.

“Oh _______, I really do love you so much~!” He hummed when he ceased his kisses.

Sun was practically beaming down at you, your own smile and pink cheeks matching his.

“You really are brighter than the sun~”

#fnaf #fnaf security breach #fnaf sun #fnaf sunny #fnaf sun x reader #sun x reader #sunny x reader #fnaf fan fiction #reader insert #gn!reader #fluff #friends to lovers

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azucanela · 4 years ago

Note

bakugou/todoroki reacting to their s.o. who usually wears long sleeves and pants wearing a casual dress? please feel free to include anyone else! also if it's ok can you add a bit of spice or smth 👉👈

REACTING TO S/O WEARING A DRESS HEADCANNONS + SCENARIOS

[ft. bakugou katsuki, shinsou hitoshi, todoroki shoto]

SUMMARY: for the first time, the boys witness you in a dress and... it ends pretty well for you.

WORD COUNT: 2.7k

WARNINGS: make out session, kissing, insecurities, SPICE, implications

A/N: THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING THIS IT MAKES ME HAPPY TO WRITE IT <3 also this is as unholy as it gets [for now] a lil spicy hehe, just a tad

BAKUGO KATSUKI

OKAY SO

he’s taken you on dates, and normally you wear jeans and a t-shirt, and he’s fine with it, he doesn’t care, your clothes your business, you wear what you want and look good no matter what it is. sweats? hot. sweatshirt? hot.

dress? probably hot, he hasn’t seen you in one yet.

UNTIL NOWWWW

it’s getting warmer, and pants are for losers, so naturally, you wear a pretty lil sundress for your upcoming date with bakugo

he comes to get you in your dorm room, and you text him that the doors unlocked and he’s like AIGHT BET

not the type to knock before entering, but you have thankfully already been dressed and as he enters he realizes that his hypothesis was in fact correct

you are very hot in a dress

very pretty

beautiful

he’s confused though, like since when is this a thing, why are you being so casual about it? did he forget something important? when was your anniversary?

“what the hell?”

you’re like ??? because nothing has changed

so he’s like “you’re.. in a dress.”

“OH,,, haha... yeah.”

now he’s made you insecure, you suck katsuki

once he passes the confusion he is checking you out, your thighs are exposed, and so are your arms, so he’s a lil distracted and doesn’t realize he’s distressed you

when he finally comes to he goes to compliment you, “you look-”

“bad? i should change-”

“NO.” he shouts, and it is a little too quickly and aggressive, so his cheeks flush at this outburst, “you look pretty.”

then he realizes he was too nice, “idiot.

you smile at him, and move to the door, only for him to kick it closed

you’re like ???

he’s like

Katsuki tries to avoid the looks he gets from the rest of his classmates as he makes his way to Y/N’s dorm room, hands shoved into his pockets as he walks. They had a movie to get to, and Katsuki wanted to make sure they had time to get snacks before the movie started, so he intended to begin rushing her. Removing one of his hands from his pocket, he turns Y/N’s door knob, shoving the door open.

He pushes it slightly behind him, but not enough that it closes since he doesn’t intend to be here long, Katsuki looks up and turns to her, “oh hey Katsuki.”

She’s putting some things in her purse, which is on her bed, so she’s slightly bent over as she shoves some cash inside it. Meanwhile, Katsuki can’t help the astonishment that washes over his features as eyes her. “What the hell?” He can’t help but exclaim at the sight before him. This was the most skin he’d seen since... since ever.

Not that he was complaining.

Y/N’s brows furrowed at his comment, standing up and bringing her purse onto her shoulder she looked at him and tilted her head in confusion. “Excuse me?”

Katsuki opened and closed his mouth once or twice, trying to find words as he let out a noise of frustration, gesturing to her, “you’re wearing a dress!” Exasperation clear in his tone, confused as to how she hadn’t seen this as an abnormality. Had he forgotten something? An anniversary perhaps?

Y/N, on the other hand, felt her cheeks warm at this. It hadn’t really crossed her mind that she didn’t wear dresses often, much less clothing that revealed her skin, which was littered with scars from the training and all the incidents there had been in the school year thus far. She couldn’t help the thought that rushed through her minds as she responded rather lamely, “yeah. I am.”

Katuski collected himself, “well, you look-”

“Bad? I should change-” Y/N began, preparing to go to her closet to find another outfit.

Only for Katsuki to call out, “NO!” His cheeks flushing red as he realized how ridiculous his outburst must look, Katsuki looked away. “You look nice... idiot.”

Y/N beamed at him, moving towards him and the partially open door that he stood by, she grasped his hand, “let’s go then!”

As she brought her hand to the knob, she was yanked back by Katsuki, who released her hand when she was close enough pulled her to his chest, pressing his lips to hers. Y/N’s free hand came up to hold his jaw, while his hands dug into her hips as he kicked the door behind him closed before shoving Y/N onto it.

Gasping at the sudden movement, her other hand came to his hair and tugged harshly on it. In response, Katsuki released her lips and brought his mouth to her neck, one of his hands coming to the bare skin of her thigh and pulling it up to hold against himself. Pressing open mouthed kisses onto her neck, Y/N let her head fall back onto the door, giving him better access.

Exhaling deeply, Y/N spoke, “Katsuki we’re gonna be late.” As much as she wanted to disregard the movie, they’d already paid for their tickets, and she wasn’t in the mood to waste money.

In response, he bit down on her neck, causing her grip on his hair to tighten before he looked back up at her, swollen lips baring a cocky grin, “I don’t mind being late, babe.”

SHINSOU HITOSHI

he’s so cute ugh

anyways, i feel like his range in terms of style is trash bag or finest man in the room so he doesn’t care how you dress and if you switch it up on occasion

this does not make him immune to the S H O C K

anyways

you’re going out with friends, but he doesn’t know this so he comes over

you open the door for him like ? but then a light bulb goes off in your head like yes! your bf! he can help! surely!

so you let him in and now he is in shock

like wow you are always hot but WOW

dresses 4 life in shinsou’s book

AND THEN YOU TURN AROUND AND HE CAN SEE SO MUCH SKIN BECAUSE YOU NEED HELP WITH THE ZIPPER AND-

rip shinsou 2020

he’s dead

look what you did

who gonna help you with that zipper now huh

very respectful gentleman though

he looks RESPECTFULLY and TOUCHES respectfully

and he really wants to touch

“HOW CAN HE BE SO HOTTT AND RESPECTFUL” tik tok audio

helps you with your zipper tho

because he is a good boy

but you lowkey noticed his change in attitude and well...

hahaha....

Shinsou was bored, so naturally, he was going to visit his lovely girlfriend at her dorm. It was odd, not receiving the cruel glares from his fellow students for his so called ‘villainous’ quirk. Then again, his girlfriend was the most powerful student in her dorm, and the people there either already liked him, or were forced to get over themselves when the two had started dating.

Nobody wanted to face the wrath of Y/N L/N.

He made his way to your door, smiling briefly at those he passed, a small wave to one student he knew particularly well. Shinsou knocked at the door, and the sound of shuffling came from inside, before the door peeked open slightly to reveal Y/N’s head, a smile making its way onto her face as she saw Shinsou.

“Oh, Shinsou! Perfect, come in and help me.” Cute.

His brows furrowed in confusion as he looked at her, and a small laugh left him, “alright.” Y/N. was sure to hide her body behind the door as she let him in, only increasing his confusion as he entered and she closed the door behind her. “Babe, what are you doing?”

When she closed the door, he finally got a full view of her body and realized she was wearing a dress. Shinsou couldn’t help the moment of shock he had as he looked her up in down. “You look beautiful.” He commented, coughing as he averted his eyes. He was looking, respectfully until his eyes trailed a little too low and-

“Would you mind zipping me up?” Y/N asked, turning around, exposing her naked back to him, save for the clasp of her bra.

Oh god you were trying to kill him.

Inhaling sharply, he nodded, “yeah, yeah, sure.” He replied. Moving closer, he brought his hands to her hips, allowing them to linger momentarily. He tilted his head as he noticed a scar running up her back, and couldn’t help but trace it upwards. Y/N felt her cheeks warm at this action, a shiver running up her spine being all it took for Shinsou to break contact entirely, “sorry.” He mumbled, embarrassed, his hand coming to the zipper and pulling it upwards.

She simply shook her head, turning around to face him, his cheeks burning red. “It’s fine.” Y/N brought her hand under his jaw and pulled him into a kiss, her other hand going to his arm.

Shinsou hummed into the kiss, allowing his hands to trail up his back once more, he finds himself regretting that he helped her zip of the dress as he presses her closer to him.

Y/N pulls away momentarily, much to Shinsou’s dismay, before pressing another peck to his lips and shoving him backwards. The backs of his knees hitting her bed frame, causing him to fall into a seat on the bed. Shinsou raises a brow, watching her figure come between his now spread legs and tilt his head up to bring him into another kiss.

His eyes flutter close as he finds his hands gripping her thighs, pulling onto himself before the other followed, allowing Y/N to straddle him, “what’cha doing, kitten?” He mumbled against her lips. She released his lips only to bring her own to his neck, as his hands hands went under her dress and up her thighs until-

“I have to go meet my friends.” She mumbled into his neck, exhaling deeply.

Shinsou groaned in annoyance, falling backwards onto her bed, “tease.” He grumbled under his breath, looking to her as she slipped off of him and amended her appearance, he couldn’t help but smile. “Have fun.”

TODOROKI SHOUTO

SO CUTE I LOVE HIM MARRY ME

ahem anyways.

shoto always looks nice, its in his nature and how he was raised, so he could be the wearing the best fit in the room and you could be wearing sweats but he really does not care

he doesn’t really notice what you wear tbh, you’re pretty to him no matter what so

bb boy is just sitting at the bench, you two had agreed to meet up at the mall, and he intended to SPOIL you, per usual, not that you knew this

you did not approve of his spending habits

you are his spending habits

he’s on his phone, preparing to text you, and he sees a figure appear in front of him, white dress with flowers on it is all thats in his vision

he’s about to be like stranger danger what do you need until he looks up and sees

GASP its you!

and you look MIGHTY FINE

you always look mighty fine, no matter what you wear, but the fact that this was something new made it even better. shoto didn’t particularly care what you wore but WOW

he kinda just cannot speak, like his mouth gapes open, you have left him speechless, good job

he’s definitely eyeing you, and he isn’t very subtle but you look so GOOD like what the hell who allowed this

insert anime nosebleed from todoroki

you are going off on a tangent about bees or smth idk and he’s like not paying attention your words but he certainly is paying attention to how nice the upper half of your body is looking rn

iykyk

he does not understand the feeling he is having but he does understand he really really really wants to kiss you

several times

and he wants to touch

you are there like “shoto???”

and hes like yes, anything for you my sweet love, what do you need

“yes love?”

ugh shoto and petnames just

a simp

anyways you guys go to the mall and he’s holding you closer than normal, and even if todo is an oblivious bb, if he happens to come across someone look at you the way only he can look at you?

its over lol burn down the mall

what was SUPPOSED a lil intimate lunchtime behind the mall in a more empty area turns into spicy todo

Sighing as he shifted on the bench, phone in hand as he prepared to text his fashionably late girlfriend, Shoto realized someone was approaching him, a white dress spotted with pink flowers filled his vision and his brows furrowed. Shoto opened his mouth to speak to the stranger, looking up only to realize it was no stranger.

It was his fashionably late girlfriend.

Shoto couldn’t help but straighten his back at the sight of her, mouth gaping open as he eyed her appearance. This was... abnormal. He rarely took note of her outfits, however he’d never seen so much bare skin, that much he knew.

Y/N simply pressed a kiss to his cheek, as though nothing was amiss, she began to speak of the difficulty she experienced on the way to the mall. Shoto failed to pay attention though, his eyes lingering on her upper body as he nodded along in the midst of his shock.

“Anyways, would you mind if we ate first?” The breeze blew her hair slightly, and Y/N basked in the sun, ��maybe we could eat outside.” She suggested.

Snapping out of his trance, Shoto nodded rapidly, “of course, love.”

Y/N beamed at him, extending a hand for him, which he accepted, pressing a kiss to it before sitting up.

This was also... abnormal. Shoto never deprived her of affection, but in public it was rare for him to kiss her and he just- Y/N tried to shake herself of these thoughts, but couldn’t help the warmth that she felt spread across her cheeks as they began to head inside the mall. When they made it to the food court Y/N selected a soba place, bringing a smile onto Shoto’s face, though when she tried to pay, Shoto had already been tipping the person at the cashier $100.

As Y/N had previously suggested, the two made their way outside, and as Shoto suggested, they found a more desolate space to enjoy their food. They had ended up behind the mall in a small, unbothered, field. He’d stopped by a store to purchase and blanket, and Y/N couldn’t help but get excited at the concept of a makeshift picnic. The pair sat down on the blanket, placing the bag of food down.

Shoto couldn’t help the smile that found its way onto his face as he looked at her, “you look beautiful.” He complimented, crossing his legs.

Y/N beamed up at him, “thank you, Shoto.” She leaned forwards, on her hands and knees as she pressed a kiss onto his lips. Shoto pulls away momentarily, only for his hands to find their way onto her face, deepening the kiss.

Pulling away, Y/N raises a brow, “you’re awfully affectionate today.” She points out, moving to sit down closer to him as she brings a hand to play with his hair.

“Well, I want to touch you.” Comes his response, and in that moment Y/N contemplates cursing Shoto out for his bluntness, though she’s distracted when one of his hands comes to her thigh, “may I?”

Oh god.

Y/N nods, enjoying this side of Shoto as he brings his other hand under her other thigh, pulling her into his lap before pressing another kiss to her lips. Shoto sighs contentedly at this, and Y/N’s hand remains in his hair, tugging gently at the bicolored locks. Meanwhile, his hands wander her body in wonder as he breaks the kiss to place his lips on her neck. Y/N can’t help but lean her neck further back.

“Happy?” She mumbled as he pressed a kiss to her collarbone.

Shoto looks up at her to respond, “very.”

A/N: this is my favorite thing it was literally so fun to write omg

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mgmoments · 3 years ago

Text

Growing Into Your Own

Diavolo | Obey Me!

Muscle growth, muscle worship, macro

Warning, NSFW

Your time spent with Diavolo was always some of your favorite. When you first arrived, little did you realize that the Lord of the Devildom would quickly become not only one of your closest friends, but even something a little more.

It wasn't uncommon for Diavolo to summon you to his opulent home for coffee, tea, or simply to spend the evening talking with you. Barbatos never seemed to mind the extra company, likely because it was good for the Master of the house to have someone else to talk to. That, and you were fairly good about cleaning up after yourself.

Today was no different. Diavolo had summoned you to his office to chat while he finished paperwork. Something seemed slightly off, however. You were never really one to notice the smaller details, but you couldn't help but take note at every time Diavolo tugged at his collar or attempted to pull his sleeves down.

"Dia, is something wrong? You've been tugging at your suit a ton since I got here," you asked, curious. He simply smiled.

"Ah, no no. Nothing's wrong. It's just...a touch tight. I suppose Barbatos must have shrunk it in the wash!"

"I assure you, I did not such thing Master Diavolo," Barbatos stated, entering the room to refill Diavolo's tea. "There is...another matter of concern. Perhaps our guest should depart so we might discuss this matter privately?"

Diavolo seemed ready to protest, but a sharp glance from Barbatos quieted him before he had the chance. He sighed. "I suppose it is getting late. I'll see you again tomorrow, yes? We can have one of those 'slumber parties' you said humans like to have!"

You laughed, but Diavolo simply beamed his bright smile. With no reason to protest, you gathered your things and headed back to the House of Lamentation. You couldn't help but wonder what exactly the two needed to discuss, however. Even more confusing is how it could possibly be related to Diavolo's clothing being tight.

"I'll be Barbatos just didn't wanna admit he messed up in front of ya," Mammon said at dinner that night. "Dude's obsessed with perfection, he just didn't want ya to think he was anythin' less than perfect."

Mammon squealed as Lucifer smacked him in the back of the head with a rolled up paper.

"There is a good enough reason why they needed to discuss matters without a human present, Mammon. It has little to do with perfection. It simply is not their business, or yours for that matter."

"Then you know what they're talking about?" You asked, knowing that Lucifer wouldn't tell you even if he did know. The frown that settled on his face was answer enough.

"Unfortunately," he replied, "Whatever this issue is it is one they've decided does not concern me. It is worth stating that Diavolo has been complaining about his clothing for some time now, at least a week. I'm surprised that it just now became an actual issue. Regardless, we all need to keep our noses out of royal Devildom business. Am I understood?"

You and all the brothers gave a quick nod. Lucifer smiled, and dinner continued. Despite everything, you couldn't shove the issue out of your head. In a way it was almost exciting to think about all the possibilities. Your mind raced with theories as you drifted off to sleep.

You returned to Diavolo's castle later the next day, only to be greeted by the towering demon dressed in a dragon onesie.

"What do you think?" he asked, turning around to show off the fine details, "I heard that humans dress in fun nightwear for events such as these, so I had Barbatos make this special. Is it nice?"

"I love it, Dia," you said with a smile, laughing at Diavolo's antics, "It suits you. Though, I see you more as a teddy bear than a dragon myself."

Diavolo smiled, and wrapped you in a massive hug.

Demons, on average, were already larger than humans. Even the relatively short Mammon and Asmodeus were still both slightly taller than you. Large demons like Beel and Diavolo, however, towered over you. You always considered yourself lucky that they were so kind, because you could only wonder how things would be if these two titans decided to use their size against you.

Diavolo's strong hand enveloped your own as he led you to his home theater like am excited child. He gleefully informed you of all the movies and snacks he had planned for the two of you as you both settled down into massive beanbags. Your seat didn't last long, however, as you were soon sitting comfortably in Diavolo's lap with his arms wrapped around you.

You both sat in quiet comfort watching some cheesy romcom when you felt something throb beneath you. You were taken aback- Diavolo wasn't the type to be...like that. Then you felt it again, realizing that Diavolo's legs appeared to be tensing up. Looking up to him, you noticed him wincing slightly. A small groan escaped his lips.

"Dia...? Everything ok?"

"Y-yeah. I...I think my legs are asleep is all. Let me just...urgh....stand up."

You rose from Diavolo's lap as he rose to unsteady legs. You couldn't help but feel like he looked slightly larger than before. It was subtle, but it was almost as if his onesie had begun to cling to him where it had once hung off of him.

Diavolo groaned again and nearly stumbled over as Barbatos entered the room with a new tray of food. Barbatos quickly placed the tray down and rushed to his master's side to hold him up.

"Is Dia ok, Barbatos? He seems out of it."

"The Master has simply been overworking himself recently, that's all. Exhaustion is beginning to get to him."

"No, Barbatos," Diavolo groaned, "It's finally coming, I just can't hold it back any longer. We need to be honest with them. They'll find out soon enough anyway."

"..Very well," Barbatos said, turning towards you. Diavolo sat back down as Barbatos began to speak.

"Lord Diavolo, as you are well aware, is lord of the Devildom. It is more than a title. You may consider it...something like a race. He is unlike the other demons you've met here. He is far more powerful, not simply because of his station but because he is naturally more inclined towards power. Part of his natural aging involves what you humans could almost consider a second puberty, a period of time when he finally fully matures and can be considered ready to take the crown of the Devildom for his own."

"What does...what does that actually involve?" you asked, watching Diavolo breathe heavily in his seat.

"You may have noticed the young Master tugging at his clothing recently. It's been a slow process thus far, but part of this evolution involves Lord Diavolo increasing drastically in physical size. This is no longer common knowledge, but Lord Diavolo's father was large enough to completely fill this room. Lord Diavolo will likely be that size when this process is completed, and based on what we are currently seeing, the process will be completed tonight."

"Wait, hold on! You're saying Dia is gonna completely fill this room tonight? Sure he's big, but he's nowhere close to being that big."

"It will cease being a slow process soon enough. Lord Diavolo is entering the final stage, and it will all happen relatively quickly. I recommend-"

Before Barbatos could finish, Diavolo let out a large groan. Both you and Barbatos' eyes snapped towards the demon prince as his entire body began to tremble and pulsate. The sound of tearing fabric began to fill the room as Diavolo's body began to push outwards in all directions. The onesie struggled to hold on as Diavolo's body began to tear through it, each muscle increasing in size and thickness. His feet were first to break free, tearing away Diavolo's slippers with his toes curling in seeming pain. His arms and legs followed, his swelling biceps and thighs tearing through the cloth like it was merely tissue paper. As each second passed, Diavolo's body grew larger and large with more and more muscle packing onto his steadily taller frame. His groans slowly became moans. The process was clearly no longer painful.

Sure enough, Diavolo's cock broke free of his pants and flopped about in front of him, throbbing half-erect. He breathed heavily as pre began to drip from the tip, the cock continuing to grow with his body. You felt your cheeks grow hot, embarrassed to watch the obscene display but finding yourself aroused by the process.

"L-love," Diavolo panted, his horns and wings erupting from his head and back, "p...please..."

You looked to Barbatos who was nowhere to be seen. With no one to tell you otherwise, you climbed Diavolo's powerful thighs and placed yourself atop his expanding lap. You wrapped your own legs around his cock, the entire thing reaching up to your chin, and began to stroke it gently with both hands. You carefully ran both hands over the tanned skin, feeling every muscle and tendon in the cock with care before steadily picking up the pace. The cock stood at attention, and Diavolo's entire body shuddered in response. Without thinking you placed your mouth around the tip as best as you could, and began licking. Diavolo moaned in ecstasy as the cock throbbed with newfound power in your mouth. You felt the pressure within slowly build until it erupted outwards. Unable to remove your head in time, a large amout of Diavolo's seed found its way into your mouth before you were thrown backwards from the force of the eruption. The cock continued to let loose powerful stream after stream of semen until the room was nearly completely covered in it. When the stream finally abated, you felt the massive body beneath you begin to relax.

You, however, were not finished. You rose from the cock and began to admire the rest of Diavolo's newly massive body. You ran each hand over his powerful new muscles, tracing every curve and line and taking the time to appreciate every individual muscle. Diavolo's body shuddered again as you reached his chest and rubbed each of nipples. A small moan escaped his lips. Eventually he seemed satisfied with your worship, and cupped you in a massive hand. Next thing you knew, you were sitting on his palm in front of his movie screen sized face, his golden eyes looking at you with adoration.

"Are you ok, my little love? I hope this all didn't come as too much of a shock to you."

You simply smiled, and brought your lips to his. The two of you exchanged the closest thing to a kiss you could, Diavolo's lips nearly engulfing your entire head. You pulled back and smiled at one another.

"I would like to apologize for ruining our sleep over, my love. And for...my unseemly behavior. Please do not think worse of me for it, and please know that even now I will never do anything to hurt you."

You knew. You'd known for nearly a year now that Diavolo would never harm you. If nothing else, tonight had simply shown you how much he truly cared for you. Life moving forward would be different for you both, but you never were one for doing things the normal way. You settled down in Diavolo's warm palm as something deep within your body began to shudder...

#obey me #diavolo #diavolo smut #male muscle growth #male shapeshift #male tf #mg #muscle tf #macrophilia #sizetumblr

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 3 years ago

Note

May I have a 🍋 with Rook and Deuce, romantic please.

Ohhh, I see we have a rarepair request 🤔 How unusual!

(The best part of writing any romantic Rook piece is that I can literally just write him as normal and it can easily be interpreted as romantic by default just because of how he acts. Oh, Rook... Never change 😂)

Order Up!

When Deuce sprinted, he became one with the wind.

It was not unlike the sensation of riding on a Magical Wheel—ripping through the world at a breakneck pace. So fast and so furious that the sun and grass and sky became one. Hair flying in his face, wind crackling and roaring in his ears, blood singing, his feet losing all feeling.

He was floating, he was flying, he was free.

“TIME!!” Vargas called—and Deuce gradually slowed to a halt, his inner tailwind dying down. “Good time, boys! Take a break and grab some water before our next set!”

“Yes, Coach!!”

Deuce doubled over, resting his hands on his kneecaps as he caught his breath. Some of his bangs stuck to his forehead in sweaty clumps—he wondered if his eye makeup was still in place, or smudged. (If it was the latter, Riddle would not be pleased with him.)

A sudden chilling sensation at the nape of Deuce’s neck disrupted his thoughts. Cold, frigid—like a block of ice against his flushed skin. A feathery voice caressed the shell of his right ear.

“Bon travail, Monsieur Spade.”

“GAHHH!!” Deuce screamed like a maniac and bolted upright, arms flailing.

He knocked the bottle offered to him out of the hand of his assailant, and into the air. Up, up, up it went, momentarily catching the light of the sun before falling down.

Deuce, too, fell back—having lost his footing during his panic. The wind returned, roaring loudly in every pore of his body.

The bottle, and Deuce, racing to the earth.

And then came the firm support on the small of his back, the hand that expertly plucked the bottle from the sky.

Deuce stared at the world turned on its head, help up by a dangerously deep dip. A rich, velvet-lined laugh drifted to his ears as he was slowly eased onto his feet.

“I hope you’re unhurt!” Rook trilled with the tip of his cap. “Mes excuses—it was not my intention to startle you!”

“Oh, it was just you, Hunt-senpai... No problem, I just, uh... wasn’t expecting you to come talk to me. Did you need something?”

“On the contrary, Deuce-kun! I simply wished to commend you for your athleticism!”

“You... what?”

“I was so enthralled observing you make your rounds on the track field. Why, it was as though I was watching an angel take flight to the heavens themselves!!”

Rook sighed longing, throwing his arms out. “Alas!! Even you were not immune to the hubris that felled Icarus... For the closer you drew to the sun, so, too, did you draw closer to meeting your untimely demise...!! But nary did you plunge into the waiting ocean or the earth below, but into my arms!!”

“... I understood none of that.”

Rook beamed in spite of the confused response.

“Suffice to say, I was touched by your marvelous performance! You must be sure to replenish your energy after such intense exercise!” Again, he offered his bottle. “For you, Monsieur Spade! Drink up!”

“Oh, thanks!” Deuce accepted it with a tired smile.

It didn’t occur to him to ask what exactly he was putting into his mouth until he had already taken a large swig from the bottle. Water, perhaps—extremely chilled, to the point where it made his teeth chatter. At the same time, the drink boasted a tangy, sour zing, perfumed with the faint aroma of citrus.

As if reading his mind, Rook chirped, “It is water infused with the essence of lemon, refreshing and rich in electrolytes. Mon roi favors it as a pick-me-up!”

“So that’s what it is. I’m not used to this, but...” Deuce wiped away at a bit of it that had dribbled down his chin. He smacked his lips together, spreading the tartness across his tongue. “It kind of does feel invigorating.”

“Fufu. I’m glad to hear it.”

TWEEEEET!!

Vargas’s shrill whistle cut through the field.

“One more minute!!” their coach bellowed. “Then I’m expecting to see you boys hitting the track again!!”

“That’s my cue.” Deuce took another sip before handing back the bottle. “Thanks again for the water, Hunt-senpai!”

“De rein. I’m happy to be of service!” Rook thrusted a hand into the air, laying the other over his heart. “Monsieur Spade... Deuce-kun!! I implore you, spread your wings once more and show me the true breadth of your beauty!!”

“You got it! I’ll do my best, so please watch over me!”

The huntsman’s eyes creased. He said something, but Deuce couldn’t make it out over the second blow of Vargas’s whistle. (Surely it was Rook wishing him luck?)

“Fufu. You would ask me to watch over an angel? What I would give to have you watch over me in return.”

The first year jogged toward the starting line, the taste of lemon lingering on his lips. So sharp, so acidic—it was difficult to believe that someone as sweet as Rook had produced it.

But when life gives you lemons, he supposed that Rook turned them into lemonade.

#twst #twisted wonderland #Deuce Spade #Rook Hunt #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland scenarios #canon x canon #delights in bites #Rook Hunt x Deuce Spade #Deuce Spade x Rook Hunt

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ptergwen · 4 years ago

Note

Hi val! Got a request, it's okay if you don't wanna write it, but can you write about peter telling the reader he's going on a huge mission and he's excited about it but the reader is so worried they end up arguing? But when peter gets back from mission all bruised, the reader is still upset but dresses his wound anyway and it ends up with fluff??

abort mission

w/c: 2.4k

warnings: mentions of blood, swearing, and angst

a/n: woah woah woah i ended up writing way more than i expected but i loved this request so much :,) i hope you do too

“we’re staying in this, like, super fancy castle while we’re there. it’s gonna be awesome,” peter rambles to you. he takes all the clean shirts in his drawer and throws them into a suitcase.

he’s packing for a mission in europe with the avengers, and you’re here to say goodbye. you’ve been pretty quiet while peter gives you as many details as he’s allowed to. it’s always an honor when the team invites him on. he gets so stoked about it. you’re happy he’s happy and gets to pursue his passion, but you’ve noticed a pattern.

every time peter leaves the country with earth’s mightiest heroes, he comes back in worse condition than the last. it seems like they protect everyone except peter. he’s oblivious to the fact that the end result is always his suffering. he’s just glad to be there. really, he gets nothing in return except scars that never heal, not even a permanent spot on the team.

so, you’re not thrilled he agreed to go.

“plus, i get to miss two weeks of school.” peter beams, getting onto his knees to zip the suitcase. “feels like a vacation almost.” “you like school, though,” you remind him. you’re sat at the edge of his bed while you watch, rather than help. he hops up again with a shrug. “i like vacations more.” “it’s not a vacation,” you mutter to yourself, then speak up.

“how are you gonna catch up? that’s a lot of missing assignments.” with that same innocent smile, peter walks over to you. he grabs both your hands and laces your fingers together. “i’m a fast learner. besides, ned said he’d help me.” you sigh, looking down at the floor so you don’t have to look at peter. “or, you could. make it into a little study date when i get back,” he suggests while playing with your fingers.

“i don’t even want you to go,” you finally admit and meet his sparkling eyes. nothing could ever dull them. “why not? you’re gonna miss me?” peter teases, pressing a couple of kisses to your palm. “you don’t have to. i’m pretty sure france has wifi.” he wiggles his eyebrows. “oui oui, mademoiselle, eh?” despite yourself, you giggle at his french accent and tug on his hands. he sits down next to you with a chuckle.

“nat has been giving me lessons,” peter explains, you quirking an eyebrow. “she speaks french?” “she speaks a lot of languages, actually. she’s so cool.” peter scoots closer to you and sets his hands on your waist, his voice dropping. “you’d love her.” your face twists up in confusion at the idea.

you don’t have anything against the avengers, obviously. they’re good people. you’re just not the biggest fan of them at the moment, considering the circumstances they’ve put peter under.

“peter, i don’t want you to go,” you repeat more seriously than before. your teeth sink into your lower lip. “and, it’s not because i’ll miss you.” “none taken,” peter jokes, implying there should’ve been a no offense. he then realizes how distressed you look, so he cuts it out. “sorry, sorry. i’m done now. how come?”

you take his hand again and hold it tight. “what if you get hurt?” you ask in the nicest way possible, out of care. “i don’t wanna see you hurting, pete. this mission sounds really... dangerous.” he runs his thumb over the back of your hand, his grin faltering a bit. “it is, but i’m ready for it. i’ll be fine.”

you’re not convinced yet. that line he likes to overuse isn’t enough to do the trick.

his eyes searching for yours, peter brushes a piece of your hair back. “have a little faith in me, babe.” “no, i... i do. i have the most faith in you, peter.” you find yourself frowning as he twirls your locks around his finger. “that’s not the problem.” peter’s voice becomes a whisper. “what is it, then? talk to me.”

you do the opposite because you’re afraid you’ll upset him further, which is the last thing he needs right now. your silence prompts peter to fill it. “would it make you feel better if i say mr. stark is keeping an eye on me?” he’s smiling sheepishly, you scoffing. “oh, like he kept an eye on you in amsterdam?”

the only eye related activity that happened there was peter almost losing one of his. he’d come back with an eyepatch and couldn’t see out of it for over a month. to this day, there’s still a bit of blood in it when you look close enough.

“i already told you, that was my fault,” peter grumbles, turning so he faces forward. “i didn’t listen to him-“ “who gives a shit? he’s the one who put you in that situation!” you blurt out. you’ve been way too patient this whole time, and now you’re reaching your breaking point. “you say that like i didn’t wanna be there.” peter clenches his jaw, still mostly calm.

“either way, mr. stark,” you mock what peter always calls him, “was supposed to keep you safe, and he didn’t. i’m scared it’s gonna happen again.” letting out a noise close to a growl, peter stands up from the bed. “you’re not listening to me, y/n. everything was fine. i just-“ you’re not in the mood to hear him make excuses, so you interrupt.

“do you know any other sixteen year olds who fight literal terrorists on their free time?” you rhetorically ask and get to your own feet. peter tries to walk away from you, only you follow him. “you’re a kid, peter, in case you forgot.” he spins around to give you a nasty look. “do you know any other sixteen year olds who stick to fucking walls?”

your heart starts to race from his sudden outburst. he’s scary when he’s mad, and he almost never gets mad at you. all you can do is blink dumbly. “didn’t think so,” peter spits. “this is what i’m supposed to do, help people. is that so wrong?” his breathing becomes ragged as his anger grows.

“what about you? are you helping yourself?” you speak softly, expecting an answer this time. “you’re not my fucking therapist, y/n,” he deflects the question. “i am your girlfriend, though. i care about you so much, you know that.” eyebrows furrowed in concern, you reach out for peter. he takes a step back. it doesn’t take long for tears to cloud your vision.

“i was excited to share this with you, and i thought you’d be happy for me.” peter balls his hands into fists at his sides. his voice stays low. “instead, you made it all about yourself. you can never let me enjoy team stuff.” you’re speechless, peter nodding as he lets his words sit. “thanks for the support.”

“you’re an asshole,” you laugh out bitterly and wipe under your eyes.

he didn’t mean to make you cry. he was so caught up in himself, he didn’t realize you were.

peter’s whole demeanor changes. “y/n, baby...” he attempts to put a hand on your cheek, but you hit it away. “get off of me. what did i just say?” you sniffle, your tone harsh in contrast. “you’re an asshole, peter.” he changes his mind about feeling bad. you’ve berated him way more than he did you, anyway.

“you should go. i have to be up early,” peter decides, even though he’d said you could stay the night. whatever, you don’t want to anymore. “fine,” you agree shortly. “i’m leaving.” he stands there while you collect your things, shoving them into your bag. you’re going slow enough so he has a chance to stop you. he doesn’t.

you pass by him on your way to his door, sucking in a breath. here’s your official goodbye. “see you later, peter. don’t die.” “mhm, i won’t,” he replies, his tongue poking at his cheek. with one more shared look between you two, you make your grand exit, no doubt informing may of her nephew’s behavior before you’re gone.

peter immediately regrets the way he talked to you, and that you’re leaving things like this. you were only trying to protect him. you’ll never be able to save the city like he does, so this is how you do it. he truly is an asshole for not seeing that.

frustration consuming him, peter kicks over his fully stuffed suitcase, its contents spilling out. he grits his teeth.

“fan-fucking-tastic.”

you don’t talk to peter the whole two weeks he’s gone except for some are you alive and yes texts. he’d called you quite a few times, and was sent to voicemail for all of them. he gave you the benefit of the doubt because of timezones.

it was actually because you declined, which peter knew deep down was the real reason.

he’s coming home from his mission today. you’re not sure when or if he plans on dropping by. you’re not sure you’d like him to, either. you don’t really get a choice in the end.

there’s a series of knocks at your window, at some ungodly time in the night. you’re all too familiar with this routine. it’s peter.

you slip out from under your covers, a scowl already painting your face as you go to the window. surely enough, peter is perched in front of it, clad in red and black. the suit must be new because you’ve never seen it. you push up the window and step aside so he can get through.

“thanks,” peter mumbles, climbing into your room less gracefully than usual. he’s sort of wobbly when he lands. “yeah,” you dully acknowledge. “how was france?” “uh, good. you know, lots of cheese and all that.” his voice is muffled from his mask, since he hasn’t taken it off yet. that’s odd. “i was talking about the mission, but cool,” you almost laugh back.

“the mission was... fine,” peter clarifies and scratches the back of his neck. he never describes something as simply being ‘fine.’ when the boy talks, he lectures. you’re starting to get worried. “that’s good. at least you didn’t die, right?” you say to lighten the mood. peter awkwardly chuckles. “haha, yeah. thank god for that.”

you hum and walk over to sit on your bed, peter staying where he is. “what time did you get back?” you wonder, a completely harmless question. “um, this morning,” he says in response, raising your suspicions. “why’re you still in the suit, then?” you squint at him. “i like it, by the way.” “thanks, y/n/n. i, uh,” peter trails off, no good explanations coming to mind.

you’re quickly developing a hunch for what what down. you wordlessly get up again, meeting peter by your window. he’s nervous to see what happens next. peter’s shoulders slump when your fingers land on his mask. you carefully lift it, revealing his face to you. his banged up, bloody face.

“surprise.” peter musters up a grin, you tossing the mask at his chest. you’re beyond angry now. it’s not at him, athough it is at his injuries. “please don’t be mad,” he nearly begs, you shaking your head. you go to leave your room for some space. peter’s fingers wrap around your wrist, pulling you back. “i should’ve listened to you, okay? i’m sorry,” he genuinely apologizes.

you still don’t say anything while you look over his beaten body. there’s a gash with stitches in it on his chin, a deep slice across the bridge of his nose, cuts littering his cheeks. he’s even got a busted lip for good measure. this might be the worst condition he’s let you see him in.

“you were right, y/n. i think... i think i’m gonna sit the next one out. it’s too much for me, clearly,” peter continues, fingers sliding down to lock with yours. “you should say you told me so.” “how... how did this happen?” you manage to get out instead. “the bad guy fought me,” he says with the hint of a smirk. “i won, though.”

it’s a relief that he’s handling this so well, even earning a laugh from you. that puts you more at ease.

“this is probably a dumb question, but are you okay?” you brush your thumb over peter’s cheekbone gently, avoiding his scratches. “not really. my face hurts a lot, and flash is gonna tease the hell out of me on monday.” his lips form a line, arms looping around your waist. it’s very much welcomed by you.

“you just spent two weeks trying not to die, and you’re worried about flash?” you snicker and draw a heart on his skin. peter shrugs a shoulder. “he’s so mean to me.” he brings you in closer to him. “besides, this is the normal kid stuff i should be focusing on.” you’re glad he finally came to terms with that. you’ve been saying it for the longest time.

you smile wickedly at him. “exactly. so is all that homework you have to make up.” peter lets out a breathy laugh, you laying your head on his chest. “i missed you,” he tells you quietly. “really wish i could kiss you right now.” “i missed you too, pete. so much,” you murmur into him. your hands settle on his biceps. “and, i forgive you.” “thanks, baby,” peter exhales.

“of course. once your lips are healed,” you pull back from his chest, making a kissing noise. “pucker up, lover- oh my god.” you’re looking up at him with wild eyes. peter gets reasonably startled from it. “what? what’s wrong?” “you... you’re bleeding!” you point at his stitches. he winces, touching the spot. there’s blood, alright.

“crap. do you have a bandaid or something?” peter gives you an apologetic smile. “mr. stark said i should cover them when this happens.” maybe, tony isn’t so bad after all. you nod and take him by his hand. “yeah, in the bathroom. come with me.”

peter sits on the edge of your bathtub while you patch up his chin. he tells you more about the fun parts of his mission, you placing the cinderella bandaid over his gash. you have those from a while ago and also regular ones. however, he preferred the princess design.

“you saw the real mona lisa? like, in person? that’s insane.” you grin, smoothing down peter’s bandaid one last time. “yeah, she’s even prettier up close.” peter returns the smile. “thanks for taking care of me, y/n. i swear i don’t deserve you sometimes.” now pouting at him, you crouch down so you’re at his level. “it’s the other way around, peter.”

“let’s just agree to disagree,” he concludes and tucks a stray hair behind your ear. “i love you, okay?” “i love you, too.” you press a light kiss to his bandaid, getting a giggle from peter.

yeah, it’s going to be hell finding replacements for his lips.

#peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagine #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #peter parker angst #peter parker smut #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland imagine #tom holland smut

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taetaespeaches · 4 years ago

Text

“Should I get this one tattooed for real?”

jungkook x reader (oc) genre: fluff word count: 3K

a/n: This is just Holly/reader drawing temporary tattoos on Jungkook and them being smitten with each other, as per usual. That’s literally it, that’s the plot. I hope you all enjoy, and thanks so much for reading! :))

The ink against his soft, warm skin was mesmerizing, your attention abandoning your phone screen several minutes ago in favor of the designs etched across his arm. Jungkook wasn’t paying much attention as you traced over his tattoos lightly with your finger tip, as he was quite accustomed to your appreciative touch upon the artwork. You adored them, and you were always excited about the possibility of him getting more.

It was a casual night, your dog sleeping on the floor across the living room next to her Cooky plush, Jungkook busy editing a video on his laptop, and you admiring the man; the way his eyes shined in the display light, his features concentrated as his orbs bounced across the screen.

Feeling your gaze on him, he shifted his attention to you, seated next to him, your hands still positioned on the tattoos. You watched fondly as his eyes widened, his tattoo-less hand quickly raising to pull the earbuds from his ears. Smiling softly at him, you looked back to his arm, your finger dragging along the shaded tiger flower on his forearm.

“This is my favorite,” you commented in a whisper, Jungkook’s eyes darting to his tattoo.

“Really? That one?” He asked curiously, not surprised but rather intrigued.

“It’s pretty,” you nodded. Glancing up at him, you met his sparkling orbs and you couldn’t help but smile upon making eye contact. “It looks delicate among the others.”

A light laugh left his lips as he smiled softly at you. “Thank you,” he accepted the compliment almost bashfully, his eyes looking down at the tattoo.

“Hang on, can I-” you started, waiting for your boyfriend to look up at you with his pretty doe eyes. “Can I draw on your arm?”

Those bambi eyes took on a youthful enthusiasm as he stared at you in surprise. “Yeah,” he whispered before an adorable smile overtook his features, making his eyes crinkle in the corners. The man quickly moved the laptop from his lap to sit atop the coffee table before straightening his back in preparation for your work.

Giggling at him, you hopped off the sofa, quickly making your way to your bag where you kept various drawing utensils. “These should come off in the shower,” you waved a pack of markers at him. Eagerly returning to the couch, you sat cross-legged in front of him, grabbing his wrist and tugging his arm toward you.

Jungkook chuckled at your excitement, his eyes taking you in with a keenness of his own, both for the design as well as simply feeding off your energy.

Securing the sweatshirt sleeve that threatened to slip down his forearm, you tucked it into itself along his elbow crease. “Ok, ready?” You asked excitedly, wiggling your shoulders a bit to show your enthusiasm. Giving you a silent nod, you grinned. “Ok, hold still,” you demanded with a small smile, Jungkook scoffing though he followed your orders.

At that point, the man didn’t have a ton of space on his lower arm, but the spot on top of his wrist was barren. Bringing your face close to his arm, you held the felt tip pen over his arm but didn’t start drawing yet as your mind drew a blank as to what to add to his existing art.

“What are you drawing?” Jungkook questioned you, a smile forming on your face.

“Patience,” you replied simply, your teasing tone evident.

“You haven’t even started though,” he complained through an obvious smile, you giggling knowingly. He was onto you. “You don’t know what you’re drawing, do you?” He called you out, causing you to look up at him with a playful glare.

“You can’t just demand art, Jeongguk,” you informed him, the man rolling his eyes though he laughed in amusement and fondness. “I just wanted to draw on you, I had zero plans beyond that,” you giggled, the man flashing you an utterly smitten beam.

“Just draw whatever is on your mind,” he told you through his grin. “I trust you.”

Feigning a gasp, you acted surprised at the comment. “You trust me?” You joked, your boyfriend sighing with a smile.

“I have since day one, Holly,” he told you sincerely, a small pout forming on your lips.

Trust. You and Jungkook had a remarkable amount of it, tracing all the way back to your first meeting. Giving the man your phone number, and trusting him to reach out; Jungkook trusting that your intentions were genuine. When you thought about it, you had never trusted anyone more than you trusted Jungkook. He was your best friend. You partner; in crime and in life.

As you touched the pen to his skin, Jungkook sat up a little straighter as he tried to look down at his wrist. “No peeking,” you warned knowingly through a smile, Jungkook scoffing in response.

“I’m intrigued,” he noted, the comment amusing you, your lips quirking into a small grin. As you focused on the way the ink soaked into Jungkook’s skin, his gaze was on you, smiling softly at your eyebrows that were pulled together in concentration.

When Jungkook’s finger entered your line of vision, you flinched slightly, locking your eyes on the digit as he pushed it against your face between your eyebrows.

“So serious,” he teased, his lips pursed.

Holding back your laugh, you glared at him before returning to your drawing. “Stop distracting me,” you told him lightheartedly, your ears being met with Jungkook’s adorable boyish giggle.

Surprisingly, however, the man did stop pestering you, silence enveloping the room as you worked on the simple line drawing. It was only a few minutes later when you popped your head up with a smirk.

“All done,” you told him, your voice low as you held his wrist up to his eye level.

You watched as he squinted at it, though his orbs soon widened, his beam overtaking his features. Appreciating the crinkles that surrounded the corner of his eyes, you couldn’t help but mirror his expression.

“A pinky promise?” He asked, his eyes shining in that stunning way they often did.

“Trust,” you told him, Jungkook pouting slightly. “How do you like it?”

“I love it,” he complimented, leaning toward you, catching your lips in a sweet kiss. Bringing your hand to rest on the side of his face, you lingered in the meeting for a little longer. “I’m gonna get it tattooed for real,” he mumbled against your lips, causing you to chuckle, resting your forehead against his cheek. “Do something bigger,” he told you, you cocking your head as you rotated his arm.

Humming, your eyes scanned over his arm, looking for a free spot to make another addition to his collection. “I need more canvas space,” you informed him, your eyes meeting his as you smirked, your hands finding the hem of his top. Giggling at the way his eyes widened, you began pushing the material up his abdomen. “I need your bicep,” you clarified when his opposite hand secured itself on your hip.

“You can have whatever you want,” he flirted making you bite your lip as you avoided his gaze, as well as his toned stomach and chest, shaking your head in hopes of hiding your amusement.

Pulling the sweatshirt over his head, you flung it onto the back of the sofa, smiling fondly at the way his long dark hair stood on end due to the static electricity. Patting his hair down, you cocked your head at him, flashing him a smile as you kept your hands positioned on the sides of his head. “Perfect,” you beamed, Jungkook leaning forward to easily catch your lips in a sweet kiss, your hands meeting the sides of his face affectionately.

As Jungkook attempted to deepen the kiss, you pulled back teasingly, wearing a proud smirk. “I have a tattoo to draw,” you spoke professionally to him, the man scoffing through his smile. “Right here,” you pointed to the inside of his bicep. “Hold your arm up,” you demanded as you adjusted your sitting position a bit to better access his arm. “Like this,” you shifted his arm upward so his bicep was at your eye level.

As you pressed the pen to his arm, he suddenly flexed, a snort leaving you instantly at his antics. “Stop,” you whined, dragging the word out through your laughter.

“Stop what?” He played dumb, still flexing his arm as he wore a cocky smirk. Pushing his tongue to the inside of his cheek, he glanced to his muscles. “Oh that?”

“Oh my god,” you beamed, “you’re ridiculous.”

“Has a mind of its own,” he nodded to his bicep, causing you to roll your eyes as you poked his abdomen in protest.

“Well try to control it,” you playfully scolded. “It’s distracting,” you added with a small smirk as you began drawing, Jungkook eyeing you with a fondness only you could make him feel.

As you were busy at work, Jungkook was watching you carefully, his head resting on the back of the sofa. You could feel his stare on you but you tried your best to ignore him, though a smile began curving on your lips.

“How’s it going?” He asked through his own grin, a light breathy chuckle leaving your lips. “Enough canvas space for you?”

Lifting your head to look at him, you rolled your eyes before leaning toward the man, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “So much canvas space,” you whispered in a low, teasing voice. The man giggled adorably, a wider smile appearing on your face as you returned to the temporary tattoo.

With this design being just a bit more involved, it took you longer to draw. Jungkook had closed his eyes, simply enjoying your touch on his body. Before you started the drawing, you caught a glimpse of the video Jungkook was previously editing on his laptop, the screen displaying a shot of you with your dog, Amelie. You were Jungkook’s favorite subject, but you wondered if he knew how much you loved seeing him behind the camera, capturing what he loved.

Looking at the drawing that was coming close to being completed, you saw Jungkook in it; hands holding a camera. It was a sight you’d seen many times before, but it was always fascinating to watch him work as he directed his lens at everything he found beautiful.

Nearly finished with your addition to Jungkook’s growing collection of body art, you just wanted to add his hand tattoos onto the hands in your drawing. Grabbing his hand and bringing it to your face, you caught Jungkook out of the corner of your eyes as he peeled his orbs open, shooting you a quizzical look.

Smiling, you moved your fingers over the small letters, placing it all to memory, as if it wasn’t already there.

“What are you doing?” He questioned you with a small smile. You replied with a smirk and went back to your sketch, though Jungkook’s attention stayed with you as he watched you intently. A few seconds passed by before your boyfriend sighed, the sound turning into a groan of feigned frustration. Your eyes moved to meet his face, only to see him pouting at you. Quirking your eyebrows, you cocked your head at him.

“What?”

“Why are you so pretty?” He asked you suddenly, a scoff immediately leaving your lips.

“Oh my god,” you lightly shook your head. “This is done,” you nodded to his bicep, the man’s eyes eagerly darting to his arm to take in the creation.

“Holy shit,” he awed, grabbing his own arm to try to get a better look at it. “Holly, that’s amazing.”

“Yeah?” You asked with a small smile.

“Is that me?” He asked suddenly, his eyes blown wide as he slowly shifted his focus to you. Nodding at him, you watched as a wide smile formed on his features, his eyes crinkling exceptionally, as they always did. “Can you take a photo?” He asked you suddenly, almost shyly.

“Yeah,” you nodded, grabbing your phone and swiftly snapping a few shots of it.

“How did you even come up with this?” He asked you, and you felt yourself become bashful.

With your eyes holding his own, you shrugged, Jungkook’s hand resting on your thigh, his thumb swiping over your skin comfortingly. “I just love you behind the camera,” you admitted. “You’re beautiful when you capture the things you love.”

“You’re incredible,” he complimented sincerely. Leaning forward with a groan, you dropped your cheek to rest against his shoulder, Jungkook’s chest lightly rumbling with a chuckle as he took the opportunity to press a sweet kiss to the top of your head. His hand gently squeezed your thigh as your eyes raked in the sight of his bare chest and abdomen.

“Have you ever thought of a chest piece before?” You asked him, teasingly dragging your finger along his pectoral as you lifted your gaze to meet his own. The man brought his hands to yours, closing his fingers over your own before bringing it to his lips.

“Show me what you have in mind,” he challenged you, mumbling the words against your knuckles before pressing light pecks to your digits. Raising your eyebrows at him, you accepted his challenge as you pulled your hand out of his hold, grabbing onto his shoulders. Swinging your leg over his lap, straddling the man, you smirked at him as his eyes raked over your frame, peering down at your legs that were caged over his thighs. “Oh?” He questioned.

“Don’t get excited,” you warned with a small smile. “I’m working,” you reminded him teasingly.

Grinning at you, he watched as you took the pen cap off once again and leaned forward, holding one hand against his chest to brace yourself as the other began dragging the tip of the pen across his gorgeous skin. As you drew on his chest, his hand was positioned on your thigh, giving you teasing squeezes every once in a while, just to get you to break your focus and smile.

As you made the finishing touches on your creation, you nodded to yourself before glancing up and meeting his gaze. Smirking, you couldn’t help the giggles that slipped from your lips. Tucking his chin into his neck, he peered down at his chest, a laugh instantly meeting your ears as he tossed his head back in utter amusement.

Looking at your name etched onto his chest, you ran your fingers over it teasingly. “What do you think of this one, baby?”

“Should I get this one tattooed for real?” He asked you jokingly.

Placing your hands against his mouth to shush him you giggled. “Stop it,” you warned, knowing he was about to buckle down on his threat to tattoo your name on his body.

Wrapping his hands around yours, he moved them from his face to rest against his abdomen between your bodies. “I’ll do it,” he insisted with wide eyes, you crumbling into laughter, dropping your forehead to his shoulder. “Don’t test me.”

“Do not,” you enunciated through a groan. Lifting your head and licking your finger, you brought it to his chest to smudge it away, though Jungkook quickly grabbed your wrist to stop you.

“Leave it there for tonight,” he smiled softly. “Just for tonight.”

“Whatever you want, baby,” you whispered just as he leaned forward, bringing his lips closer to your own. Tilting back in response, just to tease him, he scoffed before wrapping his arms around your body quickly, tugging you to him so your body was flush with his own.

The man first pressed his lips to your neck, your resolve dissipating instantly as you titled your head to the side to allow him all the access he craved; that you craved.

“You should be my tattoo artist,” he mumbled against your neck, the breath from his words sending chills across your body.

“I don’t know how to tattoo,” you pointed out in a breathy tone, Jungkook’s arm moving from your waist to find your face. He cradled your jaw, directing you to look at him. “Should I learn?” You asked him with a small smile, the man nodding.

“You could do it,” he told you with a grin, though he spoke sincerely.

“I think you have too much faith in me,” you joked halfheartedly, your boyfriend instantly shaking his head in negation.

“I just trust you,” he reminded you, your eyes locked on one another’s as you silently relayed to each other how much you did indeed trust each other, and how much it meant to be able to pour so much trust into another person.

Bringing your hand to his face, you pushed his long soft locks off his forehead before inching forward just slightly. Jungkook wasted no time in attaching his lips to yours once again, deepening the action upon contact.

Within moments, he had moved you onto your back, his body positioned between your legs, his hand moving underneath your shirt as he explored your midriff. Losing yourself in him, you were startled when he suddenly yelped in your face, his attention snapping to the dog that stood next to the couch, licking his arm.

A massive grin overtook Jungkook’s face as he whined at the dog. “Amiiii,” he complained lightheartedly, your face imitating your boyfriend’s. You loved the nickname he had given the dog, shortening Amelie to Ami; a sweet nod to his fans. “You want to see my new tats?” he questioned the dog, you giggling as he pointed to the pinky promise design. “Look at what mom drew here,” he told the gentle pup as he ran his finger over the temporary addition to his collection, the furry creature tilting her head to the side as she listened to him speak with intrigue. “Pretty cool huh?” he continued.

And all you could do was sit beneath him and admire him. It never failed to amaze you how Jungkook could be sex on legs one moment, and a giggling smiling adorable angel the next. He was one of a kind. He was yours. And fuck, you really, really loved him.

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