#picks these off their stems and gently blows the petals into the wind | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dootznbootz · 9 months ago

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Worth the Mess Ch. 1

...Tada! :'D I've decided to make that "Odysseus gives baby Telemachus a lemon" fanfic split into chapters instead! As it'll probably be around 25,000 words if I keep doing what I do. Anyways! It's fluffy and self-indulgent as hell and I had fun! :D Hope y'all like it! I will say it's more ODYSSEY INSPIRED as I got really indulgent. I keep to mostly everything but I also have a shitton of fun. Warnings: Vomiting as Penelope has magic food poisoning, Penelope is also a young mom and they're both parents so that'll come more eventually. Words: 6000+ Shout out to all my lovely friends for helping out and being so amazing! I love you all so much!!!

Odysseus looked at the pile of flowers he had in his hand, then back to the single bloom held in the other. A light blue, mostly small buds that have yet to open. Looking at the bundle, one side had more white than the rest and decided that’s where the new one should be placed. That’s what his father always told him. Something about the colors. He gently tucked it among the rest, careful of the petals.

The wind suddenly picked up, whistling past his ears and causing some strands of his hair that weren’t being held in it’s tie to blow in his face. He pulled his purple cloak tighter around him and waited for it to pass. A curl caught on his lip, annoying him. As the chill stopped, he pushed the hair back behind his ear.

He looked at the pitiful bundle of flowers in his hands, making sure none were lost. It had only just become spring and he had to make do with what he could find. His collection had started earlier that day as he walked around the markets. A few blooms taken from there as well.

Odysseus scratched as his shoulder, all the while searching once more against the plants for more to pick. Sharp gray eyes spotted a little white one with two flowers on the stem and he reached for it.

He shifted his knees beneath him as he leaned forward and winced as the sharp gravel underneath stabbed at them. Squatting now, he grumbled and brushed the jagged pebbles that still stuck to his skin. He knew he didn’t need to do this himself. He was a king; he didn’t have to do anything he did not want to.

…He reached again.

Despite his strength, the smooth stem simply slipped through his grasp. Trying again, he gritted his teeth and pulled at the deeply rooted flower. Realizing that it would not budge, he took the small dagger he had with him and pressed his thumb against it, the stem in between.

A smooth cut. Too smooth, as he then felt a sting of pain and a yelp burst from him as he pressed too hard and moved too quickly. Having dropped the dagger and the flower, he hissed as he pressed his now bleeding thumb to the red outer skirt he was wearing.

A long tongue licked at his cheek. He laughed and leaned away from Argo's cold little puffs as he sniffed around his face. “I’m fine, boy. Your master is just not using his head at the moment.”

Argos made a noise that sounded like a sneeze before shoving his head under Odysseus’ arm for pets. The king smiled as he watched his dog’s tail wag when he started to scratch behind his ears. His fur soft and sleek under his fingers.

Good boy.

It was only the two of them right now, having sent the slaves that came with him away with a nice oak log that he planned to use for carving. He also wished to meet the naiads by himself, especially as this was a more personal visit.

He looked at the cut on his thumb, and was thankful it no longer oozed blood. If Penelope were here it would be completely healed, leaving no trace of his mistake… He huffed. For now just be happy you didn’t slice your thumb off… She’s resting now and that’s what she needs, he thought.

At least now he could use both hands to scratch both his dog’s ears. Argos’ eyes closing and letting out a low content sound and leaning against Odysseus who turned his head towards the palace where his love remained.

They usually went together while doing the rounds about their properties, as queen and king. Their palace watched over by his parents during their absence. Sometimes their son in their arms or strapped against them if they only planned to walk. Looking over their orchards, pastures, going on a hunt, a run, a swim, visiting friends…

It was strange how ever since they met his mind was filled with thoughts of “Oh, she’d like this.” and “I’ll have to tell Penelope this later.” Being separated made him feel like he only had half his mind. Functioning like a dull carving knife would; usable but needed more effort to make something out of it. Even now he was picking flowers for her. Seashells he found on the shore and bought at the market today clinking in a pouch at his hip. Stories brewing in his head to tell her… It would’ve been better if he could give it all to her right now.

Four days ago, his Penelope had simply gone to the river naiads, something she did often. Odysseus usually went with her as well, but there were messages and disputes to attend to so she went alone. Their son also remaining with Odysseus as well, thankfully, as the nymphs had taken down a huge catfish that day. Not an uncommon occurrence, the naiads taking matters into their own hands when they felt something was out of balance in their environment.

Odysseus was proud of her. He always was. He adored his powerful, little wife. She’s recovered so well since giving birth and he knew how much it meant to her to do what she did before. To feel like herself again.

The catfish was a beast. Three people were killed in it's rampage. While it wasn’t the largest creature Penelope has fought, as in Sparta there was more space, it was still longer than he was tall and it’s mouth could swallow his waist, making it even larger than her in comparison. It also had sharp, thin teeth unlike the usually gummy toothless maw catfish were known for. And as water nymphs do, they ate their kill in victory.

Penelope was the one to deal the final blow to it’s skull, using the rivers current to force the beast hard into a dead tree that fell over the the water. Letting the sharp branches do the job for her rather than her blade. Her victory meant she got to take the first bite. The cheeks, her favorite.

He did not know that she was battling the beast at first so he was concerned with how late it was getting, as she usually let him know if she planned to stay the night with the nymphs. Telemachus asleep for his final nap, as they were trying to have him sleep in the night better. A messenger told him of the catfish however and that eased his worry. He knew the nymphs took care of each other.

Soon later, she leapt from the pool he had built right outside their bedroom. He smiled as he put aside the records he was looking through and went to go meet her.

What had been excitement turned to concern as he watched her, meeting her halfway. He was at first afraid she was possibly wounded. Looking at her somewhat ripped dress. As a naiad-born, she had the ability to heal with her water but he knew how stubborn she was. (Wouldn’t be the first time) While her sharp teeth gleamed with pride as she told him her story, she moved slowly and she was deathly pale. Her usually cold skin felt warm as she pulled him down to kiss his cheeks. She had even forgotten to use her ability to dry herself off, dripping water onto their floor before he reminded her. No, she wasn’t wounded, she was sick .

“I’m fine, dear Joy,” she had told him when he asked if a physician should be summoned. She smiled weakly as he guided her to their bed. With their son asleep, she thankfully didn’t argue with Odysseus about seeing him. “I’m only tired. I just had a scuffle with a beast you know. I’m more angry about that dress that got ruined…”-she shook her head only to stop when she realized it made her nauseous-“It…It was bad, but I stopped as soon as I knew there was something wrong with it and told the others. I definitely didn’t have enough of that monster to get sick from it. Telemachus gave worse stomachaches when I was pregnant.”

He shook his head, tipping her chin towards him to look him in the eye. “Darling, you’re as pale as bone-”

“I’m always pale and you always worry.”

“Penelope-”

“Odysseus,” she tossed back, smiling. When she saw his worried face, she realized this was no time for banter. She softened and kissed his palm . “I am fine … Rest will make it better, you’ll see…If I do get sick, it…it probably will be short. Definitely wasn’t cursed, as that fish was causing problems anyways. I’ll be okay.”

He couldn’t sleep. He curled around her, as they always did, and just watched. She did not face him. He rubbed her back, tracing the constellation of birthmarks and smattering of scales that were placed upon her pale skin. Their legs tangled together. The little black cat she brought from Sparta, Anthos, slept by her torso. All he could think about was his wife’s stomach rumbling and her breathing throughout the short time she was asleep. He ordered maids to be at the ready outside their room.

Strange woman, what sort of trouble did you get yourself into now?

Just as she seemed to finally get restful sleep, making him finally believe that she was right and that she was fine, she wretched his arms off her before her stomach purged itself over the side of their bed. The maids rushed in with buckets and rags as he sat beside her.

Three days. Three days of wiping her lips and face. Of wiping her body down of sweat. Of just waiting . He watched over her most of the time, others only taking over when he couldn’t. Only truly leaving to be with their son, who he gained some comfort from, and for a few bad disputes his parents needed help with. He didn’t leave the palace.

He asked for the physician. Had prayers and a goat sacrificed to both Asclepius and Hygenia. Nothing changed.

Two days in he realized this wasn’t like when she was pregnant or the occasional illness. Whatever was in that wretched fish was causing this. He asked Goddess Athena for an answer, if Penelope had truly been cursed. All she said was she would live, which gave them both relief but he was still frightened and she was still in pain.

She couldn’t even keep water down, the very thing ingrained into her very being. What she lived and breathed in. They made sure to have her dipped in the waters often, to keep her scales from peeling and to bathe her. He had to carry her to the warm bath where he and the maids would wash her. When she wasn’t throwing up, she was exhausted and slept, only to suddenly wake up and vomit once more. Since she could not consume anything, it got to the point where her body was heaving nothing until she started to cry… So dehydrated there weren’t even tears. All he could do was clean and hold her while she shivered in his arms.

“Tel…Telemachus-” she sputtered as he rinsed her neck and chest with a damp cloth. Odysseus quickly pulling his arm back as she began retching once more into the pot in front of her.

Of course, at her worst, she thinks of their son. Odysseus’ heart ached for his wife. The physician (and Lady Athena) said to ‘wait it out. Let her body get rid of the toxins’. But neither the king or queen were good at patience. And Odysseus hated feeling so helpless.

He swallowed the lump that formed in his throat as he waited for her to finish before he comforted her. “Our son is fine, I go play with him when I can. His nurses are feeding and taking care of him right now. He misses you too but you’ll be better and can see him soon.”

He gently wiped at her nose, lips, and chin with a damp rag as she gasped for breath, her hand resting upon her sternum. She shifted. He thought she needed him to move but she whined and shuffled against him. She rested her head against his shoulder and he pulled his arms around her, taking the damp rag to rest against some scales on her collarbone. He rested his chin against her sweaty head, hoping she could not see him grimace at the smell. He waited, watching Actoris replace the pot with a new one.

“Hurts…”

He bit his lip and blinked a few times but put on a smile and squeezed her. “You did just win a fight against a monster fish, love…”

She giggled and looked at him with a tired but sly grin, with some mess still on her lower lip. Gods, he loved her. “Did I really if I’m left like this?”

“Yes,” he pressed a kiss on the side of her head.

She smiled, a good sign but she still trembled against him. Then her mouth twisted and a sob came from her burning throat. “I’m so reckless…should’ve known. It had teeth, Odysseus. That’s not normal for a catfish.”

His lip curled before furrowing his brow and moving his head to look her in the eye. If he had it his way, catfish would no longer be seen on Ithaca. “None of that. The other naiads are just at fault as you are. They didn’t notice either. Aristomache is older than all of us and should’ve known better. Do you blame her? Do you blame them? ”

Penelope, already knowing what her husband was getting at, remained silent. She sniffled once and closed her eyes, exhausted. “...Do you know if they’re okay?”

He huffed, trying to keep some of the annoyance out of his voice. “They’re fine. A messenger was sent to all waterways and all the naiads are fine.”

She curled further into him, not responding. He sighed. “I’m not mad…Not at you at least,” he muttered. He used the back of his knuckle to stroke at the apple of her cheek. “Be gentle to yourself. You’ve recovered so well and are so strong…None of the others are mothers, and you’re the one who killed that thing. You’re doing better than most.”

She looked at him with those silver eyes, before looking back at her hands. His words didn’t necessarily take all those feelings away but she could admit to herself that he was right. He took that as a win regardless.

“I still feel like shit.” She grumbled before leaning over and spitting some phlegm into the new pot. He rolled his eyes at her and wiped at her face again until she reached up to touch his cheek, where dark circles sat upon. Her tired face lined with concern. “Have you…You have rested as well, yes?”

“I have,” he reassured, taking her clammy hand and kissing her wrist.

“You could take another room if you can’t rest while here.”

“I sleep in our nest with you or outside on the dirt.”

She couldn’t help but smile at his bluntness. It was selfish but it brought her great comfort that whenever she was sick, usually within seconds she would feel those warm, rough hands rubbing her back. And if he wasn’t there, she was told he was with their son.

A strand of Penelope’s raven hair fell over her face, tickling her nose. He gently pushed the soft strand back behind a pointed ear. He called to Eurynome from where she was gathering new rags to help redo it. Eurynome braided her hair before tying it up in a wrap around her head, Odysseus keeping Penelope upright.

He picked her up and began to lay her down on their bed only for her to raise her hand and grab his wrist, her grip was weak. She wasn’t completely asleep like they thought. He placed his other hand over hers and leaned closer to hear her. She whispered, “What do those tablets say?”

The king was taken aback, looking where her gaze was pointed. A pile of clay slabs that were resting upon the small table on his side of their nest. Someone must have left them there for him earlier, as she was in no condition to correspond. “I don’t know yet. I will look at them once I know you’re resting-”

“Did Linus respond? I need to know.” She was sitting up now, swaying a bit. Even sick, Penelope’s silver gaze was fierce.

Odysseus gently pushed her back onto the sheets. She didn’t fight him, thankfully, though she still looked at him with demand. His heart warmed. Her stubborn determination was simply one of the reasons he loved her after all. “Dear Wife,” he began softly, rubbing softly at her shoulders with his thumbs. “I don’t need to see those slabs to know that you got the ten oxen you wanted. You would still be there at his house right now demanding him if you hadn’t.”

He took a cool rag to wipe her forehead of sweat. Going under her chin and chest as well, careful of her sensitive breasts. He placed a different warm cloth given to him by Eurynome over top of them to help with the swelling. As she could not feed Telemachus in her condition, and despite her lack of food, they had to make sure infection or mastitis didn’t take root. When she winced, he murmured an apology.

He pulled the blankets over her. She looked up at him, her sharp teeth shined at him. Bright as always. “I want that man ruined, Odysseus. If he thinks he can have some of Ithaca’s finest craftsmanship for just five oxen, then he has no idea who he’s dealing with…”

“I know. He already knows if you ripped into him as you do,” He kissed her forehead. “Now rest, silly woman.”

When he pulled back, she was looking above them where the canopy of their nest was. Odysseus raised a brow before raising his head to see a small gray owl, hiding among the branches.

Athena must have spoken with her, as she looked back at him, sighed and fell asleep. He looked up again and bowed his head in thank you. If all Athena could do was help his wife get some peace then he was grateful nonetheless.

Odysseus pulled Argos closer and rested his head against him. His fur was soft. He traced spirals in his coat. The dog sniffed the wind, lost in his own little world just as his master was.

He had summoned a physician again on the third day, worried about how to get the food she needed. She gave her a mixture that only ended up purged later. A waste of time and of the fine wine he gave as payment.

In the evening, Athena appeared. Telling him the Naiads wished to speak to him. As his Penelope was sleeping, he had Euryclea and Actoris watch over her while he sprinted to see what the nymphs had to say. Aristomache, the oldest of the naiads and often spoke on behalf of all the younger ones, waited on the edge of river bank for him.

She was strangely more formal, having become what he would call mother-in-law figure for him with Penelope’s family so far away. While most would have to supplicate and bring many offerings to their nymphs, they had become a second family to him. Offerings were gifts now. Ithaca had never been so close to it’s nymphs until his new bride came with him almost eight years ago.

She was blunt in her instructions and gave him a strange plant. One with little pearls instead of leaves. Telling him that Penelope must have one pearl and to give them news when she is better again. He asked if this was punishment for his queen. If they had to do more to sate whatever was causing this.

Aristomache gripped his hands tightly and forced him to look at her. “You will not do anything. Penelope was wronged…This is to make up for it.” She gave him a look, her deep blue eyes seeming to cut into him. He simply nodded.

She said nothing more before she sank into the river.

He decided not to question it despite how strange it was as he remained hopeful that this would be what finally helped his wife. He raced back to the palace, the plant in hand. He pulled off a pearl for Penelope as he was told. She had a hard time swallowing it at first. A short moment passed, everyone waiting to see what would happen.

The queen retched up a small black glob that went into the pot with a splat, only to then disappear in a mist. She was exhausted and sank back into the cushions before sleeping once more, frightening him at first, but she was still breathing. He had the room and her be purified while she slept.

She still hasn’t woken up yet.

“Master, she probably needs rest. More now most likely as she was fighting that ailment. She’ll be awake and better soon,” Euryclea had told him, wrinkled hands on his broad shoulder.

He didn’t move. It’s been three days. Three days of her not being able to eat or drink. That…thing might be out of her now, but what of the damage it’s caused?

“It would be best if you rested-”

“Get out,” he muttered, his lip twitching. He whipped around to look at them. “Now! Get out! I want you all out!”

Euryclea jumped back, she knew her king had a temper. “Now My King, she will still need help when she wakes-”

“And?! She’s sleeping now. She and the room have been purified. There is nothing more to be done. So you will get out !” He swallowed and inhaled deeply through his nose. “Check on our son while you’re gone... You will be called upon when she wakes but you will be out of our chamber until then.”

He turned his head back towards their bed once he heard the whispering of the maids and the quick shuffling of feet. One tried to pick up her supplies. “Leave it!” he shouted without looking at her.

She stopped, startled, but did as he ordered and followed the other slaves. The room was empty now.

Tension left his body as he sat on the bed, looking at his sleeping wife. Her cheeks were red and were warm, and her breathing was deep.

His vision blurred, and his eyes burned and so did his throat. A sob escaped him and he lowered his head into his hands. He let the curtain of his thick hair drape over him to hide his face, the ends of it laying against the blanket that covered her body. This wasn’t the first time he wept over her condition and he knew he shouldn’t expect her to bounce up and out after that but… She still looked sick. She hasn’t eaten or drank in days. Even if that sludge was out of her, what if the damage had already been done?

He felt a cold gust against his back, causing a shiver up his spine. He didn’t have to look up to know who it was. He waited for her to speak.

He heard Athena in his mind like usual. Her deep voice echoed in his head with a chuckle. Penelope is asleep and could not hear her right now it seems. “You know, kicking them all out wasn’t necessary.”

He sniffled, tossing his head to throw the auburn locks bouncing once more against his back so he could look at the owl with his red-rimmed eyes. He grabbed a rag and wiped his own face now. And blowing his nose. “Well, they aren’t necessary either.”

“Really? Are you planning to stay up the whole time to watch her when you��re in such a state yourself?”

He glared up at her. She was resting on a branch that came out from their nest. He hated that she seemed to be smiling. And that she was right. He was exhausted as well. Stress, taking care of her, trying to remain relaxed while visiting and playing with Telemachus, half-assing being a king. It was all adding up and his head felt like fog.

“Sleep,” She was suddenly in the form of a young girl. Sitting at the end of their nest. “I’ll make sure she’s well. I knew her before I knew you, you know.”

He couldn’t say no even if he wanted to. His eyes were shutting and he was now the one swaying. He went to the other side of the bed and crawled under the covers. “Wake me when she does, please.”

Athena nodded. He curled up to his wife, resting his head on her shoulder, resting his nose under her jaw… We need a bath , he thought before sweet sleep fell over him.

It was in the middle of night when he woke up, Athena brushing her feathers against his face to wake him before nodding once in Penelope’s direction and taking flight. This time he stayed awake and lit the oil lamp that rested in it’s special nook on their living bed he made.

He looked at Penelope and hope filled him when he noticed the change. She no longer felt so hot under his touch, her skin going back to it’s familiar coolness. Color started to come back to her face. Her breathing no longer sounded so labored. Anthos laid upon her belly, so he scooped up the cat and placed her to the side. He then looked over her body, checking her scales once for peeling before settling for scratching under Anthos’ chin as he waited.

Penelope was laying on her back when she suddenly sat up and belched loudly. The warm damp cloth that had been laid over her breast fell into her lap.

“Oh, gods-” she said before she covered her mouth. It would’ve been humorous in any other situation.

Odysseus immediately sat up as well, pushing the blankets off himself to kneel on the bed facing her. Her silver eyes bright. She let her hand fall from her mouth as she felt her husband's rough hands cup her face. She blinked, her thick lashes fluttering once.

She watched as her husband’s stormy eyes scanned her with a worried brow and pursed lips. She chuckled at how his hair decided to wake. Parted too far to the right and weirdly flattened on one side.

Odysseus was taken aback by how she looked as she almost looked as though she had never been sick. The bags under her eyes were gone, her skin almost seemed to glow, and her silvery eyes were bright and focused. Tears no longer filled them.

She waited, breathing deeply, reveling in her body working with her again. She opened her mouth slightly, relieved that nothing seemed to buildup just below her throat.

She grinned at her husband, who was now looking over where some of her scales were, having memorized their placement. His hand now brushing over the scattering of some on her left hip once again. He looked back up at her wide-eyed, when she hummed lowly, her throat still burning from the bile of the last few days.

“I think at this point you just want an excuse to look at me…” she rasped.

He snorted. “Since when have I needed an excuse?”

He rested his forehead against hers, her pushing back a slight bit with her own, and he whispered, “How are you feeling? The pearls worked, yes?”

She nodded, then kissed his nose, “I think they worked, my Joy… I think I’ll be okay.”

“Oh, praise the gods! Penelope!” He exhaled and pulled her close.

He placed a few soft kisses on the once sweaty and pale forehead that he would push her hair away from. As she giggled and turned away, he cupped her other cheek, pulling her face closer to his own to continue his affection. The kisses only stopped momentarily as he could not hold back his grin as he squished his nose into her cheekbone, no longer red from fever but from joy. Her sharp teeth glinted as she squirmed. Her body was sore and moving so much hurt her ribs but she couldn’t bring herself to push him away. She leaned away from him, as his hair was tickling her; it only left her neck vulnerable. He nuzzled himself on the pulse point, the same spot he desperately felt during the past few days. Her laughter, although still hoarse, was his goal; she truly meant it when she said she was feeling better.

He shifted, trying to pull her tighter to him when she winced and pushed him back, “Odysseus, my breasts hurt. Not so tightly!”

“Forgive me, I forgot.” He still smiled, giggling himself as he took her freezing hand, a good sign for Penelope, and kissed her calloused fingertips.

Penelope shook her head and took a deep breath, wincing. She took the rag that was in her lap and wiped at the milk that had dribbled out on her. “My ribs definitely hurt as well”-she coughed- “and my throat…Maybe I’m not fully well yet actually.”

He stopped his affections, face suddenly serious. “You don’t think you’ll be sick again, right? You said the pearls helped.”

“Oh, they definitely did. I’ll be fine eventually. Just thisty and hungry and sore,” she said, her usually gorgeous voice hoarse. She swallowed thickly but smiled at him. He was clearly worried and she wanted to give her husband some peace. She rustled his hair so it wasn’t such a mess with her other hand. “But I actually feel pretty good. Though I did just wake up.” She gave him the rag to clean the droplets she left on his own chest.

“Good,” He said, tossing the cloth back when he was done and gave one final kiss on her cool cheek before shuffling off the bed, losing balance as he got tangled up in the blankets before taking off to call back the maids. “We’ll get you something to eat. That’s the only way to test if you’re better.”

He looked out the doorway, somewhat regretting having yelled at the maids to leave earlier. Euryclea was nearby thankfully. Stubborn old woman.

“She’s awake. Bring some food. Let’s try some fruits and bread for now, pomegranates, of course. And bring more water. Wake up the other maids when you finish bringing them. Go.”

He whirled back around and jogged back to where she sat. She was petting Anthos’ black fur as she drank from the little cup that was beside their bed. “Slow down, don’t overdo it…”

She rolled her eyes. To “overdo water” was a silly concept to her as a naiad, but she did drink more slowly. He crawled back on their bed. He started to retie her hair which had fallen out while sleeping. She flicked her wrist and water hopped out of the pitcher once more into the small cup. Anthos curling up beside her.

He began combing her through her soft black hair, running into some of the knots with his fingers and gently undoing them. Going through it more times for his own comfort. She didn’t need anything fancy right now, especially as she should bathe soon. “How’s your stomach? Not feeling sick, right? You haven’t been able to have anything in days…”

“No, Odysseus, I don’t feel sick. I’ll be okay…” He finished tying her hair up with a leather cord and pulled her into his lap. She shifted a slight bit to sit more comfortably before suddenly her eyes got wide. “Th-the council! What day is it?!”

He scoffed and shook his head. He placed his hand over hers. “Rescheduled. Neither of us were in a state where we can go.”

She wrinkled her nose but didn’t argue as he was right. Again.

She squeezed herself up tighter into his strong arms. She had always enjoyed his warmth, always running colder than most mortals with her ancestry; they met in the middle. She traced some freckles on collarbone with her unoccupied hand.

She took another sip from her cup before turning her head and placed a kiss on his collarbone. “Thank you for taking care of me…I know the reason I got better is because of your care.”

“There is no reason to thank me,” he murmured. “I missed you so much.”

She smiled,“I don’t know if a man who barely left my side can say that.”

“This man will say it no matter where he’s been.”

She snorted. “Speaking of which, I know I need a bath. When was the last time you’ve taken one?”

“Since you last had one,” He smirked at the way she wrinkled her nose. “We can take one after you eat.”

She gasped. “TELEMACHUS!” she started to turn away before she grabbed her left side and groaned.

“Just my ribs! Calm down,” She grunted, reassuring him as he reached out towards her. She caught her breath and slowly brought herself back to curl back up against him. Anthos’ head now up looking at them. “I will see Telemachus.”

“You need to eat-”

“Then while we bathe! It’s not like our son isn’t capable of worse smells himself.”

He couldn’t argue with that.

The pitcher was empty by the time Euryclea came in. The plate was soon empty as well. But her stomach remained full.

Odysseus smiled as he sat with Argos now, playing with his floppy ears. That had been this morning. And it was why he was on his own. He told her what the Naiads told him and as always, she immediately was making plans as to what to do. He wanted her to rest and gain her strength back, she wanted him to “do his royal duties”. He was simply keeping his promise to her…

That doesn’t mean that she still wasn’t on his mind. Or that he didn’t sneak in the castle at noon and was reassured by his Euryclea that she hadn’t snuck out or was doing anything too strenous.

“King Odysseus! You’ve been sitting there for a while! Are you well?!”

Argos answered before Odysseus could. His dog, who had been lulled to sleep by his master’s petting, stood up quick and began to bark at the sheep herder. The shepard’s own dogs rising to attention at the possible threat. The sheep surrounding him shuffled about in fear.

Odysseus placed his hand upon the dog’s chest, Argos looking at him before looking back at the other man and his own herding dogs and growling. “Hush Argos, that’s no stranger and you know that,” Odysseus looked back up at Alkaios before grabbing the pile of flowers from the ground. “I’m well! Just lost in my thoughts. Is that the young lamb that you are so worried about resting on your shoulders?”

Alkaios smiled and raised his hand to pat at little lambs head that he was carrying. “Yes, she’s getting strong though! She’ll catch up with the others and I’m sure soon I won’t have to worry about her anymore. And you won’t need to worry about your queen much now that I hear she’s getting better… I’m happy the sheep left you some flowers for your collection there.”

“Yes, I am too,” Odysseus smiled back and couldn’t help but shake his head at the little faces that were crowding around the herder, as though they knew they were being talked about. “Would hate to go back to Penelope empty handed! I’m actually on my way to thank the Naiads for their help.”

“I won’t keep you then! Have a good evening, my king!”

Odysseus nodded as he watched the shepard go over the hill, his flock following close behind. He was happy knowing his sheep were being watched over by Alkaios, always the dutiful shepard.

He held the flowers and tried to reach into his pouch for a leather cord to keep them together and grumbled when he couldn’t find one. Of course, he forgot. He pulled on the cord that piled his hair on his head, releasing the thick spiraling curls over his shoulders and back. It was getting cold with the evening air so having another layer of ‘wool’ was helpful.

He had just finished the knot around the flowers, when he heard Argos whimpering. He whipped his head in his direction, worried his faithful companion was in danger, only to start grinning when he saw the actual problem. “You silly dog, you want it that bad? It’s too big for you!”

His hound was bouncing around a couple of rocks, a large stick sticking out of them. He looked back to his master, tail wagging and pleading with him to pull it out.

Odysseus shook his head but walked over to it. He looked around the stones before he pushed one boulder with his leg and heaved the large stick out. He threw it in the grass where Argos picked it up and started to gnaw on the stick, much too large for him. His head leaning to the side from it’s weight. It was hard to believe that this was the same dog that was capable of taking down good game.

But that’s why Odysseus liked him so much.

“Good dog…Enough dallying. It’s getting late, and I must speak to the nymphs.”

Argos simply crunched on his stick some more.

~~~

Let me know what y'all think! (also if there are spelling errors!) :D I know I have her being stubborn but know that Odysseus behaves the exact same way when sick. They're Likeminded and they behave basically the same in every way.

#odyssey #Mad rambles #shot by odysseus #odypen #penelope #odysseus #epic the musical #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #Mad Writes #???#sure. Why not?#the odyssey #fluff #tagamemnon #Baby Boy Telemachus comes soon!#please be nice I know I went nuts with my ideas and fluff and it's definitely not accurate but I'm a fluffy person so that's what this is!#I'm a lil terrified but oh well :P

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schwarmerisch · 3 years ago

Note

To Kazuha: "I'm sorry, but I can't return your feelings."

this event has ended and i will no longer be taking requests for it! you can view the masterlist here.

notes: yandere, implied stalking, one very vague threat, gn reader

Verdant wands of pine wave in the air, swaying ever so gently with the pull of the breeze. A gush blows by you, and you can’t decide if it’s the chill that sends waves of shivers down your spine, or the look in his eyes. His stare was a reflection of a storm. Red falling leaves, dull and lusterless, picked up in the wind and swept up into the chaotic swirl of a tornado. It was akin to the bone-chilling air of late autumn, the cool temperate times swapping out to the bitter feel of winter.

That frown looked so foreign on his lips, and it panged your heart deep with guilt. Soft voice, gentle words, no matter how lightly you let him down, you knew it couldn’t soothe the pain your rejection stinged. You watched his bandaged fist clench, fresh green stems bend in the pressure. The glistening petals seemed to wilt on command with the oppressive atmosphere, and for a moment you wondered how far he must’ve trekked for those flowers.

You look away, the shame that came with meeting his gaze was too potent to withstand. Your mouth goes dry and your tongue refuses to formulate a response. Silence permeates the air like a thick fog, your eyes averting to watch the tufts of grass beneath your feet swing lightly in the gentle wind.

You knew what you did was for the best. His pursuit of you started out innocent enough, but grew more concerning as time went on. His tendency to be there whenever you were in need of help seemed quite chivalrous at the surface level, but all charm melts away once you begin to think deeper. How was he always there? Always, every time, it wasn’t an overstatement.

Something even more sinister comes to mind, something you’d never have the heart to accuse, but nonetheless had never been able to brush off. You had never encountered so much trouble before, never had your path home been infested with so many bandits, yet he was always there to be the hero… The mere implication chilled you to the bone.

You look up and his expression had faded into something calmer, something more familiar to the Kazuha you knew, but it was hard to forget the weight of that stare. Although now gone, the waves of it lingered, heavy and frigid, pressing goosebumps up your skin. The downturned corners of his lips slowly raised to a wistful smile, and the serenity of voice came back.

He moves to close the distance between you, grasping your open palm in his and gently placing the flowers he had so graciously picked for you in them. He closes your fist around the stems, and cups your hand tenderly in his own. Fondness shines in his warm eyes as he looks at you, and smiles as he finally breaks the silence.

“I’m sure you’ll come to regret your decision soon.”

#yandere #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere imagines #yandere genshin #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere kazuha #yandere kaedehara kazuha #kazuha x reader #yandere kazuha x reader

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eclipsedpascal · 3 years ago

Text

You Deserve This

Andy Dolan x Female Reader

GIF by @kissxmedeadly !!

“The reader asking Andy about his kiddo (let's pretend is a lil boy 🤣) and him being very emotional about it and the reader who truly loves him conforts him 😭❤️” - anon

Please read the warnings!!

Warnings: use of drugs (weed), smut, oral (female receiving), slight public sex, slight angst, mentions of rehab, mentions of suicidal thoughts, a lil bit of crying and VERY slight Eden spoilers, but thats only if you don't want to know anything AT ALL, so basically none? idk lmao:)

Notes: hi! So this is my first Andy fic, I wrote it very quickly last night after a sudden burst of inspiration and it doesn't make too much sense, also it’s kinda cheesy? I don't think I've ever written anything this angsty or soft before, but i’m trying to be more in touch w my emotions nd this is my way of doing that, so hopefully i'll do more things like this soon:) also if you’re interested, the title is one of my favourite songs by Men I Trust that I just thought fit Andy well.

Word count: 1.8k

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The warm, dancing breeze washed over your skin, plucking up your many goosebumps and blowing the rainbow coloured sea of petals that decorated the large garden from left to right. The bittersweet mix of their fragrances and Andy’s blunt rushed to you and filled your scrunched up, wrinkled nose as you let out a loud laugh. The vibrant expanse of fluffy grass felt close to a mattress underneath you, cradling your form whilst you laid amongst the greenery and watched Andy ghost a deep inhale of the blunt he had balanced precariously between two fingers. He flopped his arm across the gap between you and offered you another toke, the dopey smile spread over his features making you laugh even more.

“What’s so funny? Hmm?” He questioned you jokingly, rolling onto his forearms and bringing his face to hover just above yours as you brought the blunt to your lips. You couldn't hold in your laughter, your drug hazed state and the breeze that pushed his brown curls to tickle your blushing skin only exaggerating your amusement further as you choked out clouds of smoke.

“What??” He joined in laughing, finding humour in his own confusion and finding your laugh infectious. His lips found your own in a sudden yet gentle kiss which you gladly embraced, still not managing to fully compose yourself as you giggled into his open mouth.

You did your best to pull back from the kiss, but were reminded you didn't really have anywhere to go when you felt a blade of grass flutter against your ear. “It’s just.. your smile.” You rested your blunt carrying hand on his cheek as you spoke, feeling your heart swell when he pulled an overdramatic expression of insult at your reply.

“What’s so wrong with my smile?!” He half faked offence, not understanding what you could possibly find so amusing about it as you giggled more and more. “What’s wrong with it?- is it my lips? ‘They not good enough for you baby?” His thick accent aided his voice, making him sound even more attractive than he already was as he joked with you.

“Noo! it definitely wasn’t your lips, cause I love those.” You gripped his locks a little firmer, biting your lip as his stare changed from one of curiosity to one of want.

“Oh yeah?” He leaned back down and kissed you again, but this time rougher, the weed made you feel as if his lips were slowly melting into your own as it sent strong signals of lust through your body. He put all his weight on one arm, lifting the other and groping your waist with it whilst simultaneously moving to trail wet kisses down your neck.

His touches were deep, yet executed so delicately it convinced you if he was any rougher, you might just break. He opened the buttons of the flowing shirt you wore; one you had stolen out of his wardrobe that morning. He moved his head further down your chest to your stomach, mouth racing in slow motion to reach you were he wanted to most.

Forgetting to explain why you found his smile so funny in the first place, your high carried your thoughts closer towards how incredible his mouth felt on your skin, making you lean into his touch and let out a few small mewls.

As he reached your panty line, he tapped your hip, signalling for you to lift them so he could take your shorts off. He slid them off your legs in a quick, smooth motion that had them landing on a nearby lavender bush. The garden had quite a large variety of blossoming shrubbery and many clusters of beautiful flowers, it was probably down to the bi-weekly gardeners Andy had hired. You had known they were expensive and after spending so much time like this, lazing around, surrounded by the expensive home’s nature, you were beginning to understand why he had hired them.

You returned your gaze from the dangling shorts, back to the man nestled between your bare thighs. His beard was scratching at your skin in the best way possible as he laid small kisses over the thin fabric that covered your cunt. His hot breathe felt like fire as you wriggled and squirmed below him, just wanting some kind of contact from him.

He used two fingers to peel your panties to the side, groaning at the site of your glistening folds before kissing your clit gently. His tongue started swiping across your cunt slowly, taking all the time in the world to make you feel as good as he knew he could. You moaned loudly, grabbing at his hair once more as he sucked on you deeply.

“Mr Dolan?” You were interrupted by a throat clearing before hearing a man speak; one of Andy’s many servants you guessed. They had never seemed to leave the two of you alone whilst you had been staying there. No matter how big his home was, you always seemed to find another at every corner.

Andy looked up to the man with question and annoyance, raising an eyebrow at him as he wished for him to just hurry up and leave so the two of you could continue with your escapades. “It’s the phone for you Mr Dolan. Your son.”

Andy quickly rose from his place below you, his mind abandoning all thought of the act he was just partaking in as he jogged past the glass doors of his home, wanting only to speak to the young boy.

You sat up slightly, doing up a few buttons of your shirt and laying your crossed legs to the side of you as you held yourself up with your arm. You watched him as he scrambled into the house after his servant, little red marks from where he had been lying in the grass next to you were noticeably imprinted on the skin of his left arm, the one he had been leaning on, and his open shirt was flowing behind him with the speed he was moving.

You looked down to the flowers on front of you, picking a single daisy that bore tinted, pink tips on the end of each slim, white petal, twirling the stem around between two of your fingers as you listened to the breeze pick up. You could feel the mood of the air change as he left, the wind feeling more cold an irritating than once before as you pondered the call Andy was having.

You knew how desperate he had been to speak to his son again. It had been months since he had spoken to him without his ex-wife being the messenger. He missed him more than he knew to describe.

His recent divorce had been what had fuelled him to return home to Eden; hoping to find solace in the paradise he knew so well after feeling as if he had lost himself entirely. Spending too many years constantly playing other people had taken more of a toll on him than he had realised, that was until he was sent to rehab. After getting out, he felt as if staying in Eden was the only way for him to climb out of the dark hole he had managed to find himself in. Unfortunately, this journey of finding himself had meant making the decision to leave his son behind in Los Angles. Something he didn't like to speak on much.

When you had first met him in rehab however, he had been extremely open about his life, telling you how anger was the only emotion he could really feel anymore. Explaining that if he wasn’t at least the slightest amount intoxicated, he didn't think he couldn't go on with living; especially after the recent downfall of his career being showcased for the entire world to see. It was dark stuff, but you understood each other. That’s a big part of what made you grow so close.

You picked off petal after petal from the daisy, watching its beauty fade with each pluck and letting each one slowly blow into the breeze, creating a tragic stream as they blew away from you and down to the not so far off shoreline. As you plucked the last petal, you admired the daisy, still glowing with pollen and beaming in the sunlight despite have lost so many important parts of it. You stuck it into your shirt pocket and fell back down to lay on the grass as you waited for Andy to finish his call.

It had been maybe ten minutes you were lying with your eyes closed, enjoying the heat that beamed down from the clear, Australian sky when you finally heard the slow footsteps that you knew to be Andy’s, pattering along the grass. You shot up from where you lay to see the dopey-smiled man who had left you in the garden just fifteen minutes before, only to be faced with a red-eyed, teary one.

“Andy what happened? Are you okay?” He fell down onto the grass besides you, staring at you but completely wordless. You felt as if you could see into his soul. He was feeling so many emotions he hadn’t even been able to grasp at in so long. It was overwhelming him and you knew it. You reached out to stroke is cheek, concern running through you for the man that you had grown to love so dearly over the past few months.

He looked up “She’s gonna let me see him. T-They’re coming over next month.” A tear fell from his face as he smiled harder than you had ever seen him smile before. He was finally going to see his son after all these long months and you couldn’t have been any happier for him.

“Really?! That’s amazing, oh my god!” You moved forwards, wrapping your arms over his large shoulders and squeezing him in a hug so full of love it was palpable. “You really got to speak to him this time?” You questioned him once more before pulling away from his grasp, thinking back to the many times his ex-wife had promised he could speak with the boy but decided at the last minute he wouldn’t get to.

“Yeah!.. he uhh,” He took in a shaky breath, chuckling with joy as he recalled hearing the young boy’s voice so filled with excitement and energy over the phone. “He said he couldn't wait to meet you! You know, when I told him about you.” He stumbled over his words, running a hand through his hair as he shook with nerves, doing his best to calm himself.

In that moment, you felt your love for him soar higher than it ever had before. You were so proud of the progress he had made, and you knew his son would be too. “And I cant wait to meet him either.” You rested your forehead against his, the two of you enjoying a stand still and bathing in the happiness you both felt in the beautiful moment. The sound of the ever present breeze occupied your ears as the laughter emitting from two of you joined it, echoing a song throughout the garden that wouldn’t be forgotten any time soon.

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Thank you sm for reading!!🥺💗

Tags: @celestialrequiem @ntxoza @dark-mei-rose @sojournmichael @blakescoven @ritualmichael @ghostangels @fernfiction @ferndolan @brattylovee @7-wonders @angelicmichael @melodylangdon @brooklinn13 @kitty4860 @lavenderahs @michaellangdonstanaccount @9layerdevilfoodcake @chicaluna2410 @plymptxn-reborn I've just tagged anyone who I thought might be interested as per usual, but if you would to be removed feel free to let me know!! you can also lemme know if you would like to be added to the tag list too:)

#Andy Dolan #Andy Dolan x female reader #Andy Dolan x reader #dad!Andy Dolan #dad!Andy Dolan x female reader #dad!Andy Dolan x reader #Andy Dolan fic #Andy Dolan smut #Andy Dolan imagine #cody fern #Cody Fern fic #eden fic #my writing

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rotworld · 3 years ago

Text

2: Centaur

it’s said that only pure virgin maidens can call a unicorn, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

->explicit. contains horse genitalia, weird sex magic to enable human-to-horse genitalia compatibility, dubcon/noncon, semi-public sex, implications of mind-altering magic, gore, murder, kidnapping.

You’ve never seen anything so beautiful.

The meadow is in full bloom, a sea of brilliance. Here, a profusion of daisies. There, a carpet of poppies. Asters and yarrow and little clovers, flowers you’ve never heard of, colors you didn’t know existed, bloom as far as the eye can see. There are starbursts, blue as the sea, that smell of salt and sand, and cones of pink blossoms that glitter in the light. Petals dance in a gentle breeze like prismic rain, carrying a soft, sweet scent. It feels like a dream. You’re knee-deep in flowers beneath a cloudless sky.

“This is impossible,” you say softly, afraid to disturb the peace. Your fingers graze a curving stem, heavy with bluebells. “It’s autumn. The leaves should be turning. How is everything so green?”

The king’s men sigh tiredly, looking uncomfortable and terribly out of place in their clanking armor. “Unicorn,” they say, the only word they seem to know. Why are the winds so gentle here, spring-sweet and warm? Unicorn. Why is the water crystal clear and sparkling, the perfect temperature for both a quenching drink and a quick rinse of your dirtied hands? Unicorn. Why couldn’t you see the meadow until you crossed the river and passed a certain willow tree? Unicorn, obviously. They shake their heads at you like you don’t know anything.

“Sit here,” one of them tells you, pointing to a spot among the daffodils.

Another one stops you just as you’re kneeling in the grass. “No, no, wait, over there is better. There are lilies. Lilies are a symbol of virginity.”

“I think the roses would be best,” a third chimes in. “Seems very maiden-like, doesn’t it? That’s what a maiden would pick, I think, if a maiden were out here, picking flowers.” The other knights nod sagely. “Then it’s decided. Over there by the roses, please. Here, sit with your legs folded like this…”

You roll your eyes. You can’t believe how seriously they’re taking the stupid little details. This whole expedition is a lost cause. It doesn’t matter how much they pretty you up, dressing you in this flowing gown and making you wander barefoot among the flowers. You’re a sheepherder, not a waifish little girl. A unicorn can tell the difference. But the king must really be desperate, because the knights are insistent as they correct your posture, smooth out your hair, and inspect you from every angle.

“Good. Perfect,” one of them says, nodding at his handiwork. “We’ll get into position. Do,” he pauses, waving his hand vaguely, “maiden things. Sing songs. Braid your hair. Whatever it is maidens do.” You watch them clang and clatter away to the treeline, hiding poorly among the rocks and flower bushes. You relish in the space and freedom, flopping on your back in the grass. You couldn’t care less if a unicorn comes or not. The fields are yellowed and prickly at home, nothing like the beautiful softness of this meadow. Your cousin agreed to watch your sheep for the day, so you don’t have a care in the world. You close your eyes and let eternal spring wash over you.

You open your eyes to darkness.

You sit up slowly, groaning and groggy. You must’ve drifted off. Petals fall from your gown as you yawn and rub your eyes. Snoring drifts from the trees; the knights fast asleep. You stand up to stretch, only to find a new, fantastic landscape stretched before you. The meadow is tinged silvery blue in moonlight. New flowers, unopened buds just hours ago, bloom with a faint glow. A river of stars shines overhead. This must be the dream, you think, or maybe you’ve been dreaming since you crossed the river. Everything about the meadow is otherworldly, a place of beauty and gentleness unlike anything you’ve ever known.

And then you hear it. Softly at first and indistinct, but nearing, gradually louder. A rhythmic gait, too heavy for a human, too pronounced for fleshy feet. Hoofbeats. Your breath catches in your throat. You scramble to your feet and look around. Auroras shimmer above you, rippling ribbons of green. Night breeze blows across the meadow and the grass whispers at your ankles. You see him, trotting across the meadow. You see him and there are tears in your eyes. You realize you’ve never known beauty until this moment.

The unicorn is the color of night, black and deepest blue. His mane shimmers, woven with gemstones and glittering flower buds, and his horn shines like polished onyx. He is a man from the waist up, silver eyed and handsome. There are scars along his broad shoulders, puckered skin that healed a lighter gray. Beneath the waist, muscle twists and transforms into long equine legs. His gait is leisurely, a smile tugging at his lips.

“My oh my, what do we have here?” he says. His voice is velvety smooth and alluring. Your apprehension melts away even as he stops before you, his front legs bending so you’re face to face. A heavy, coat-like fabric rests across the back of his horse body, royal purple and delicately embroidered with intricate floral patterns. He reaches for you, slender fingers curling along your jaw. You’re sure of it now. This is all just a dream. The unicorn chuckles, a warm and rumbling sound that fills you with heat. “You’re wide awake, little one.”

“You can read my thoughts?”

“I can read more than that.” His smile widens and he stands to his full height. You fidget nervously as he walks in a slow circle around you, a hand beneath his chin. His hooves kick up petals and glittering pollen with every step. “Hmm, let’s see...a shepherd! How precious. What gentle hands. Ah, but a solitary life. You’ve not known a lover’s touch in quite some time.” Your face heats in embarrassment. His palm trails across your back as he passes behind you, squeezing your shoulder.

“I thought unicorns only came to pure maidens,” you say. His every touch sends sparks across your skin. You can feel his warmth through the flimsy, thin fabric of your gown. At that, his smile gains a sharp edge, almost predatory. It’s gone as quickly as it came.

“What a delight you are,” he murmurs. “Coming all this way was worthwhile after all.” He begins to walk and you follow without being asked. There are flowers all around you but you pay them no mind now, too entranced by the beautiful creature beside you. You don’t know if you go far or not, time and distance rendered meaningless in the dreamlike embrace of the meadow. He leads you to a large, mossy rock formation, the stone sheared away to leave an unnaturally flat surface. You look back over your shoulder, remembering the knights. Did they sleep through all of this? Should you say something? The unicorn’s hand cups your chin, dragging your gaze back to him. His breathtaking smile obliterates all thoughts of anything else.

“The stories are an exaggeration,” he tells you. He guides you gently, hands on your shoulders, to sit on the stone. His legs fold beneath him and he sits, his hands carding through your hair. The affection and desire in every touch, every gentle scratch of his fingers against your scalp, makes you hotter. “We appear to whomever we wish to appear to. But I confess, some of us do have a soft spot for virgins.” He presses a sharp kiss to your lips, nipping at you. “We enjoy teaching them pleasure,” he hisses, and pushes you suddenly onto your back. The gown is pulled from your body, discarded in the grass. Night air caresses your bare skin and you squirm beneath his wandering gaze.

Somehow, it only occurs to you now what his intentions are. The gentle caresses, the sensual touches and the heat in his gaze didn’t feel real. They still don’t, but now, naked and at the mercy of his hungry eyes, you understand. “You...you want me?” you say, your voice small in embarrassment. When you say it out loud, it sounds even more ridiculous, but there’s no mistaking this. He rests his arms across your abdomen, gazing up at you with fondness and longing.

“I do,” he says. “Very, very much. Would you let me have you?”

You bite your lip, your body trembling as he slips a hand between your legs and just grazes your sex with his fingertips. The touch is teasing, too fleeting, and leaves you aching for more. You nod shakily and he hums, pleased at your acquiescence. “What’s your name?”

He looks rather charmed that you asked, warmth filling his gaze. “I am Myurva,” he says. You give him your name in return and the way he says it back to you, the lascivious purr, makes you squirm. The unicorn rests his hands on your knees, gently but firmly easing them apart. “Spread your legs for me, lovely. I want to see you.”

Myurva’s seduction is slow and patient even as you writhe and beg him for more. He opens you on his fingers, soothing your frenzied whimpers with sweet nothings and loving whispers of your name. You’ve never been treated with such devotion, such smothering lust and affection. He touches you like the love of his life, kisses tenderly and messily, drags his hand along your side and savors the way you move for him. “So very worth it,” he murmurs, kissing your inner thigh. He has two fingers inside you, caressing your walls and curling just right to reach the spot that makes you shriek. “How fortunate I am to have found you, lovely. I want to keep you. I want to spoil you each and every night.”

You’re keening for him, sobbing with need, when he flips you onto your stomach. You hardly notice. You spread your legs when you feel his hands on you, kneading your ass. Everything is hot and electrifying, hazy with pleasure. Then his front hooves land heavily in the grass near your head and something enormous rubs against you. “Wait,” you say shakily. You hear a chuckle above you. The fleshy end of Myurva’s cock slides against your ass, smearing precum along your spine. Your heart skips a beat feeling the sheer size of it against you. There’s no way. It’s impossible. You try to push yourself up on your elbows and one of his hooves stamps dangerously near your head.

“I thought you wanted me, lovely,” he says. He thrusts again, the length of him slipping between your thighs and grinding against your sex. “If you move, I’ll have to chase you. You won’t get far.”

“You won’t fit,” you tell him, voice pitched in desperation. Trying to squirm just makes him rest his weight against you, crushing you between the stone and the bulk of his body. “You’re going to break me!”

“I’ll go slow,” Myurva purrs. He demonstrates with a slow grind, a gradual roll of his hips. His heated flesh feels so good against you. “I’ll be so, so careful with you. Don’t you remember the stories? I enjoy virgins. I haven’t harmed a single one. They wander the woods in search of me, begging to feel my cock again.” You hear his back hooves shifting, repositioning behind you. He lines himself up and his cock prods against your opening. “Let me show you,” he urges. “Let me bring you pleasure you’ve never known.” He grinds against you again, hot pressure building as he begins to push inside. You gasp his name, beg him to wait, to go slow, to give you a moment to collect yourself, but he chuckles and presses harder.

Your nails rake against the stone and your vision whites out. The burn of the stretch becomes a tingling sensation, numb at first and then blindly pleasurable, lighting sparks in your belly. It shouldn’t be possible but you feel the head inside of you. The pain is a dull ache but every movement chases it away, pleasure washing over you. He rocks his hips and the steady, shallow thrusts push him deeper. True to his word, he fucks into you agonizingly slowly, panting and moaning

“How do you feel, lovely?” he asks, his voice strained. He’s holding back, you realize, his hooves stomping restlessly as he makes small, unconscious thrusts to feel you wrapped around him. “Let me in deeper. Let me fuck you properly. You won’t regret it.”

You don’t think he can get deeper. You try to tell him as much, but a hard thrust knocks the breath out of you. The fullness makes your head spin. You feel yourself pushing back against him despite all of the sensations, the ache inside of you, the impossibility of the whole situation in the back of your mind. He makes a breathy, choked sound and then laughs, fucking you harder. “Ohhh, that’s it. Just like that. I knew you’d love this.” You can hear his cock slamming into your body, can feel the weight of his heavy balls slapping your ass with every thrust. You feel like a cocksleeve, a snug toy for him to fuck. The force of his thrusts drags you back and forth over the stone, scraping up your chest, but the pain is nothing compared to the pleasure he gives you.

Someone is screaming, crying Myurva’s name into the night. You barely recognize your own voice, the needy pitch, the tremor in every word. You’re so full, so unbearably stuffed with cock, no longer trying to meet his thrusts but letting him move you, ruining you for any human partner. Your knees bruise on the stone. Your toes curl. Your cries build to a frenzied crescendo and you cum impaled on his enormous cock, shaking, panting his name.

“Lovely,” he moans, an obscene sound leaving his lips as your inner muscles clamp down on his cock. “Gods above, darling, I’m going to fill you.” He fucks you wildly, no rhythm, no caution, his whole cock slamming into you as hard and deep as he can get. You can’t move. The whole world turns white-hot and blinding. You go limp, gasping weakly as Myurva begins to grunt, his cock pulsing, his whole length crammed inside you.

You thought you were full already, but then he cums. You feel him straining on top of you, his whole weight thrown forward as he fucks ropes of thick cum into your body. It foams up around his length and makes obscene, slick sounds. You feel it overflowing, trickling down your thighs. It feels like it goes on forever, his moans, his deep, straining thrusts, his cock pouring more and more cum into your body until his balls empty and he finally, with a satisfied sigh, pulls out.

You make an undignified sound at the sudden emptiness, and the rush of cum that follows. You’re grateful for the stone beneath you, cool against your sweat-soaked skin. Your legs are jelly. You don’t know if you’ll ever walk again. Myurva’s front hooves lift, stepping back from the stone. His human hand caresses your cheek. “You’re truly something, lovely,” he says quietly. “I spoke in jest of keeping you, but now...it’s difficult to resist the temptation.”

You try to speak but only manage an incoherent murmur of noise. He chuckles and strokes your hair. Distantly, you’re aware of other noises than the two of you. Shouting. Footeps. Clattering steel. You remember suddenly that you aren’t alone out here, arms struggling to lift you. The knights. How could you forget? Shame heats your face. How long have they been awake? How much did they see? How much did they hear? Myurva shushes your protests, pressing a gentle hand on the small of your back. “Rest,” he says. You don’t think you’re capable of doing much else, anyway.

You hear a commotion behind you. The knights, shouting in outrage, drawing swords. Are they going to hurt Myurva? Your eyes widen and you try again, uselessly, to lift yourself and see what’s happening. The unicorn gives you one last gentle caress and leaves you, his hoofbeats stopping somewhere between you and the knights.

“At last, you show yourself!” the knights exclaim. You manage to roll onto your side, craning your neck to see them surrounding Myurva, but he doesn’t look concerned. He glances around, examining each of the men.

“Let’s see,” he murmurs. “Subjects of King Cornelius. And you want…” The corner of his lips twitch in amusement. “A hostage? Is that right? Your people have no claim over our mountains. A hostage will not change this. My king does not negotiate.” His words are ignored. The knights are wary but they do not back down. You feel like a fool. Why didn’t you ask them what they wanted the unicorn for? You assumed it was something trivial, a silly princess who wanted a pet. Nothing like this.

Myurva glances back at you. His silver eyes catch the moonlight and glint dangerously. Those are a predator’s eyes, you realize. A thing that hunts and stalks the night. “You worry for me, lovely?” he purrs. “Your every emotion is so tender. I really must keep you. But, alas,” he chuckles, turning back to the knights, “business first, my sweet.”

You hadn’t looked all that carefully at the fabric across the back of his body. You hadn’t noticed the sword sheaths hanging there, hidden beneath the drapes and tassels. You hear steel scraping steel as he unsheathes twin blades, long and curved, as strikingly silver as his eyes. One of the knights tries to say something. “Come quietly,” or some other meaningless thing. He never finishes speaking. You hardly see Myruva move. A flash of silver, a rush of air; that’s all it takes. The knight’s head falls from his shoulders, and his body sinks to the ground soon after. The others begin to scream and scatter, but they’ll never get away. There’s no outrunning a unicorn.

Laying there upon the stone, you see everything. Prey fleeing and predator giving chase. Swords clashing. Flesh pierced and mangled. Myurva tramples one of them, snaps the man’s ribs with glee in his shining eyes. Their armor does nothing but trap them in slow, awkward shells, easy prey to catch and dismantle. The unicorn moves like a whirlwind across the meadow, death his shadow. Blood soaks the soil and splatters the flowers, almost black in the night.

You’re on your knees when it’s over, hunched over the stone with your legs in the grass. You can’t stand. You can’t run. You can’t do anything but turn and see Myurva standing there, fresh blood dripping from his swords. He smiles at the sight of you, the shivers wracking your body. “You didn’t know,” he assures you. “I can read you, remember?” He wipes the blood from his blades, sheathing them at his side once again. You flinch when he comes closer, sitting in the grass beside you. You smell the carnage on him. The fingers that tuck your hair behind your ear are wet and warm. “Pleased to meet you,” he purrs. “I’m Myurva, the royal spymaster. And you are the loveliest little human I’ve ever seen.”

You protest weakly when he scoops you up in his arms, standing suddenly. You’re vaguely aware of moving, of being carried somewhere. You fight to cling to consciousness, but it’s slowly slipping out of your grasp. “Hush,” Myurva coos, kissing your forehead. “We’ve a long ways to go and you’re in no condition to ride me just yet. But, eventually…” He chuckles, one of his hands cupping your backside. “Eventually, we’ll have all the time in the world to do whatever we like, won’t we?”

#rotpeach writes #teratotober #i feel like ive ascended to a whole new level of deviancy with this one #this is the prettiest and most Aesthetic thing i'll write all month and it has horsecock in it

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bluejayblueskies · 3 years ago

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the before, the after, the in-between

Chapter One: white daisies Words: 2.9k

Relationships: Jon & Daisy, Jon/Martin Tags: Post-Canon, Scottish Safehouse, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mute Jon, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies

Summary:

There was no knife, no blood, and Jon was not dead. And when he heard a strangled noise from beside him and looked over to see Martin standing in the doorway of the safehouse, flung open and letting in the frigid bite of near-winter and sunlight, there was sunlight, he felt such a dizzying, intense wave of relief that he could hardly breathe around it.

Then, he opened his mouth to say Martin’s name, and nothing came out, and all of the relief fell away in an instant.

Jon wakes up in the safehouse in October of 2018, alive and well but without the Eye and without his voice. In the days that follow, he finds himself confronted with a world that has reset itself in space and in time, a version of himself that is no longer the Archivist, and the fact that death during the end of the world had not been so permanent as it had seemed.

Read on Ao3 (link in source)

Or read below:

(cw for mentions of knife violence, mild blood)

There are white daisies on the kitchen table.

They’re what Jon saw first when he opened his eyes, awake and gasping for air, sprawled on his back on the floor and staring up at a brown ceiling and a brown kitchen chair and the bottom of a brown table and, amidst it all, a splash of white that caught his eye. He stared at the flowers, a memory tickling at the back of his mind—Martin cutting the flowers from a patch just outside the cottage, tucking them into a vase on the center of the table, Jon running a finger along the waxy petals and whispering, Daisies for Daisy—and then, with a rush, the rest of the memories came flooding back and he sat up so quickly his head spun, his hand going almost instinctively to his chest where the knife was—

But there wasn’t a knife. He was in the safehouse and there were fresh-cut daisies in a vase on the table and there was no knife. There was, however, when he pulled his jumper up to look, a scar—thick and raised, like it had been there for years.

There was no knife, no blood, and Jon was not dead. And when he heard a strangled noise and looked over to see Martin standing in the doorway of the safehouse, the door flung open and letting in the frigid bite of near-winter and sunlight, there was sunlight, he felt such a dizzying, intense wave of relief that he could hardly breathe around it.

Then, he opened his mouth to say Martin’s name, and nothing came out, and all of the relief fell away in an instant.

There are still white daisies on the kitchen table less than two days later, when Jon has fallen apart and picked himself back up again and fallen apart and picked himself back up again, more times than he cares to count. He sits in the hard wooden chair, legs crossed and elbows resting atop the varnished wood, and stares at the flowers, still as vibrant as the day they were picked nearly… six months ago? He wishes he knew how long it’s been, but he can’t. He can’t Know, and the Eye is gone, and he can’t speak, and his tears are soundless as he buries his face in Martin’s chest and grapples with the fact that for the first time in years, he’s never felt quite so human.

Martin thinks they’ve gone back in time. Jon thinks that time has caught up to them. Like the world, stitched back together and made anew, has simply picked up where it left off, unaware of how deeply scarred its inhabitants have become. Though Jon really doesn’t think it matters much at all.

It’s not the first argument they have. And it certainly will not be the last.

For now, though, Jon stares at the daisies, one hand tap tap tapping the cheap ballpoint pen on the moleskine notebook Martin had given him and the other wandering down to his left calf, where bite marks as wide as dominoes sit in even rows across his skin, scarred up before they’d even reached the next domain.

He rubs a thumb over one of the raised scars—the second set that had been left on his body by the same hands, both born from violence yet so distinct and different in Jon’s mind—and thinks, with a twinge of something deeply longing, I miss Daisy.

He’d missed her in intervals after he’d collected the bite mark scars on his calf. There had been so much to think about, so much to focus on, but in the quieter moments, he would think about the fact that she was gone—really, truly gone, in a way he couldn’t explain away like he could their first time in the safehouse—and feel the loss as acutely as a knife in his side. (Though now that he has experience with that specific brand of pain, he knows that the feelings aren’t quite the same. A knife is sharp and cutting, radiating pain. That ache was deeper, and it settled next to his bones, preparing to make itself at home within him forever.) Now, there is sunlight streaming in through the lattice windows and Jon closes his eyes when he sleeps and fear is as dull as a butter knife, and there is no limit to the moments of quiet. He looks at the white daisies, and he aches.

“Jon?” Martin says quietly, and Jon startles, still unused to not Knowing when somebody is near to him before they announce themselves. “Is… is everything all right?”

Jon nods reflexively, then bites his lip and slowly shakes his head. He looks down at the table for a moment before flipping open the moleskine, uncapping the pen, and scratching words neatly on the next available line despite the way his hand shakes ever so slightly as he writes. I miss Daisy.

He holds up the notebook, and Martin steps closer until he can make out the cramped words on the page. His forehead furrows like he hadn’t been expecting it, but after a moment, he says softly, “Me too.”

Jon gives him a flat, disbelieving look, and Martin sighs. “Okay, maybe I don’t. At least, not- not like you do. But I… I know you cared about her, Jon. I know she was there for you when I- I wasn’t, and I… I wanted to meet the version of Daisy that you pulled out of that coffin. Really meet her, I mean, without all of the loneliness and fog and- and end-of-the-world drama.” A corner of Martin’s mouth turns up into a sort of unhappy smile. “I guess I miss what could have been, then.” Quieter: “I’m sorry. I know that she… she meant a lot to you.”

Jon nods once, folding his hands together on his lap and worrying them together. He opens his mouth, then closes it with a frustrated sigh and reaches back for the notebook. Hastily, he scrawls, I think she would have liked you. Then: I wish you could have met her too. Then, hesitantly: I told her about you. I talked about you a lot. She never understood why I left you alone with Lukas, but she respected my decision to do so.

He holds it up, and Martin’s eyes scan the page quickly. Jon can see the moment Martin reads the last line, the way his jaw tenses and his throat bobs as he swallows. “Only nice things, I hope,” he says after a moment with a bit of forced cheeriness.

Jon exhales loudly through his nose—a breathy laugh, the only kind he can manage anymore—and shrugs.

Martin’s lips twitch into a smile, but it quickly folds under the pressure of the troubled look upon the rest of his face. “I’m glad that you had her,” he says quietly. “And I’m sorry you lost her.”

She had me as well, Jon scratches, holding it up for Martin to see. Then, his train of thought continues and he holds up a finger, pulling the moleskine back down to the table and inking a few more lines onto the page. It was hard to be human, but we helped each other. I wish I could have helped her during the apocalypse, and I wish I could help her now. It hurts to know that she could have had this, truly separated from the Hunt, but that she wasn’t given the chance.

He holds it up, trying to keep his hands steady as he gives Martin time to read through it. Then, Martin takes the moleskine from him and sets it carefully on the table before folding Jon’s hand in his and squeezing gently. He rubs his thumbs across the back of Jon’s knuckles as he says, “I know, love. I know.” He lifts Jon’s hand to his lips and presses a gentle kiss to it. His lips brush against the back of Jon’s hand as he says, “Would you… would you like to do something for her? A memorial, or- or something to remember her with? I know there wasn’t much of a chance to do so back when—back before, and it… it might help.”

Jon looks down at his lap, considering. He knows that Daisy is gone; he doesn’t know if this would make the ache in his chest lessen or grow tighter, and to do nothing and stay the same feels like the safer of the two options. Then, he catches a glimpse of white out of the corner of his eye—the daisies, sitting on the table, vibrant and alive and glowing slightly in the bright sunlight—and, eyes still locked on those waxy petals, he nods.

“Okay,” Martin says quietly. “All right.”

They stand atop one of the grassy hills close to the cottage, a thick scarf wrapped several times around Jon’s neck to keep away the cold and his mittened hands holding the bouquet of cut daisies, their petals fluttering and stems bowing in the wind. The moleskine is tucked away in his coat, but he hasn’t used it since they arrived out here. Martin’s arm is tucked around Jon, hand resting on his opposite hip as he pulls Jon close to his side, and they’re both silent as they stare out over the grassy knolls, peppered with orange and white cows and brown pickets with wire strung between them.

Jon takes a daisy from the bouquet, holding it carefully in his hand lest it blow away too early, and watches it wave back and forth in the wind, flimsier without the support of the rest of the flowers. He remembers calling Daisy’s name with dirt clustering at the corners of his mouth and filling his nostrils, feeling terror grip him as the soil around him began to shift and move, rivulets of water trickling into his eyes and stinging as he tried to blink them away. He recalls the relief, all-consuming and so potent he thought he would choke on it (if he hadn’t already been choking on dirt, so much dirt, soil and clay and sand and gravel all mixed as one), when she had called his name in return. He takes a deep breath in, lets it out, and releases the flower, watching it catch in the wind and be carried away, down the hill and out of sight.

He pulls another flower out of the bouquet and thinks of the way Daisy’s hand felt in his when he finally made contact, fingers calloused and rough and fingernails ragged and caked with dirt. Her grip was so weak, muscles unused to the trial of being made to grasp and cradle and hold, but she held on as the dirt pressed down on them and they struggled to breathe and, still, with their lungs compressed and weary, they used them to form words. He thinks about not alone, though, not alone, and lets the flower go, watching it tumble away on the breeze.

He pulls another flower and thinks of when Daisy said that she’d planned to kill him, and how he wasn’t even able to muster up the energy to care.

The petals on the next flower are wet. For a moment, Jon thinks that it’s started raining and he just hadn’t noticed. Then, he feels Martin’s hand brush against his cheek, wiping away the next few tears with his thumb, and his next breath rattles in his chest.

He remembers being with Daisy in his office, him sitting in the chair behind his desk and her standing in the corner, trying to remember what it felt like to be vertical. He remembers sitting across from her at a sticky pub table, his hands wrapped around an equally as sticky mug of beer as she pulled a surprising amount of laughter out of his mouth. (He suspected that the warmth running through him by the end of the night was only partially due to the flush of alcohol in his system.) He remembers sitting on a now-ratty cot in document storage, one earbud in his ear and the other in Daisy’s as they leaned against the wall, thighs pressed lightly together and hands clasped in a way that felt easy, his nose wrinkling as The Archers played tinnily through the earbuds. He remembers being slumped against the brick wall behind the Institute, cigarette held between two shaking fingers as he tried to pretend like the nicotine would satisfy the burning hunger growing within him, and the shoulder that had pressed firmly against his as Daisy had slid down to sit next to him, a similar sort of hunger clawing relentlessly within her as well. He remembers standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom in the Archives, staring at his own eyes and wondering if they looked just a bit greener today, just a bit less human, and finally walking back out to see Daisy leaning on the wall next to the door, her voice leaving no room for argument as she said that she’d bought a bottle of whiskey and they were going to share it between them. He remembers lying on one of the cots and staring at the darkened ceiling, hearing her breathing deep and even beside him, one thin arm slung over his chest, and thinking about how much stronger than him she was, that she would rather die than be who she was before. (She never thought he was a monster. He hadn’t quite believed it, but he had been grateful for it all the same.) And he remembers what it felt like, slipping into the tunnels beneath the Institute and leaving Daisy and Basira behind to deal with the chaos that lay above ground, unable to shake the horrible, sickening feeling that it was the last time he would ever see Daisy.

Their last night together had been spent listening to the historical podcast that Jon had managed to convince Daisy to try. He thinks she only put up with it as long as she did because she spent much less time listening to the hosts and much more time listening to him talk over them, supplementing their research with his own and going off on long, rambling tangents that more often than not ended up a few subjects away from history. She never minded when he rambled, and he never felt that choking, itching feeling at the back of his throat that caused the words to die halfway through a sentence that he so often got when he felt that he was boring those around him.

They hadn’t even gotten to finish the episode they were on.

Jon remembers it all, and he lets the flowers go one by one, watching them tumble away down the hill until his hands are empty, hanging uselessly in the air for a moment before he drops them limply to his sides. He knows he’s crying in earnest by now, and he hates it. It’s a terribly vulnerable feeling, to be mourning out in the open, and he hates it. His breath hitches in his throat—he would choke his words if he could form them—and he hates it.

He hates it, but he doesn’t stop Martin when he wraps his other arm around Jon and pulls him gently into his chest, whispering soft platitudes into Jon’s hair as Jon buries his face in Martin’s scarf to hide his tears. Martin’s hands rub circles across Jon’s back and his lips press against the crown of Jon’s head and he whispers, “It’s all right, love. It’s all right,” and Jon allows himself one abrupt, hiccuping sob before he pushes all remaining sounds deep within him where they cannot escape.

And down below, near the base of the hill, the daisies lie scattered amongst the grass and the bushes and the weeds, like the first flakes of winter snow.

There are daisies on the kitchen table again. These ones are yellow, collected from the garden in the back before the frost has a chance to set in and wither them. Sunlight makes dappled patterns across them as Jon sits at the table and drinks tea for the third morning since he found himself able to do so once again, made with no milk and two sugars just as he likes. He can hear the gentle rumble of water from the bathroom, his own hair already shower-damp and pulled back into a loose braid. The jumper is Martin’s, too large and draped over his hands where they wrap around his mug, and the kitchen smells of tea and daisies and home. If Jon closes his eyes and shuts off his mind and focuses only on the seep of heat into his palms and the brush of fabric against his arms, he can almost pretend like everything between before and now had been a dream.

Almost.

Jon takes a deep breath, opens his eyes, and takes a long sip of his tea. He’s halfway back to setting the mug on the kitchen table when there’s a creak, a rattle, and a burst of cold air as the front door of the cottage swings open.

The mug slips out of Jon’s hands and knocks sideways on the table, spilling tea across the varnished surface and rolling dangerously close to the edge before its handle strikes the table and brings it to a halt. He distantly registers that his jumper sleeves are stained with tea and that the puddle is seeping towards him, preparing to drip off the edge, but the thought is buried beneath an icy wave of shock as he stares, wide-eyed, at the open doorway. At the figure standing within it.

Daisy stares back, eyes wide with surprise, face streaked with mud and blood, one hand still on the door handle, and says, “Jon?”

#tma #the magnus archives #jaisy-week #jonathan sims #daisy tonner #martin blackwood #my writing #my fic #ehe here we go! jay's second iteration of a post canon fic #otherwise known as 'the miraculous ladybug au' ajdhjlgak #before tag

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hpalways · 4 years ago

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Yaksha’s Destiny || Xiao

DARKNESS was the biggest fear held by fellow Yakshas. This power bestowed upon you and many alike gave an opening to the pitting shadows that raged within your chambers. Some days, it wasn't as bad -- other days... it felt like you were getting ripped apart into shreds, taking in all your willpower to battle against it. It was tempting, to give in and call it quits. Life for a Yaksha wasn't all sunshine and rainbows. There were always too many demons and not enough heroes. Especially for a weaker one like you, anger and frustration would stem from these battles, only to eat at you later on.

Today was one of those days. The sky was a stormy sea of clouds, with the Gods crying from the heaven above. Droplets prickled down your bare skin, cold to the touch. While in the mountainside, you had stumbled upon demonic energy, so there was no choice but to finish them off.

Dodging the monster that lunged at you, you took out your polearm. The hydro vision on your hip gleamed brightly in the setting. Taking a turn, you could feel power surge to your arms. As you were about to jab your weapon into the demon's abdomen, they had ducked in time. Shit. You had underestimated this one.

Its body rammed into you, knocking you off your feet. Air left your system, causing you to groan in pain. Just as it was about to sink its teeth into your arm, you rolled over on one side and jumped back to your feet. Fingers clenching tightly around the metal stick, you pushed your hind legs and tried to stab at it another time. Your speed and reaction time was too slow. Too damn slow. Too damn weak. Gritting your teeth, you began to use up more of Yaksha's power, drinking the exhilarating taste of freedom. It was so addicting... often times, you'd wished it'd never stop.

A burst of water shrouded from the weapon, circling the demon until it was surrounded. With one, clean fell swoop, you sliced the demon and the energy faded away. The deed was done.

Falling to your knees, your entire body was shaking. Face contorted and in pain, nails dug into the earth to feel wet mud. Your body would not move -- it could not. Stilling there as if you had just been paralyzed, hungering thoughts plagued your mind... Thoughts you wished weren't yours. Letting out a disgusting whimper, similar to that of a wounded animal, you bit down on your lip, hard. Blood dribbled down your chin, painting the grass in crimson. Tugging at your mask, you stared at it for a moment. A sigh let out.

That was a close one. Crashing to the ground, your chest heaved up and down in exhaustion.

A figure suddenly entered your peripheral vision. Climbing up to the ridge of the mountain was Xiao, his dark teal locks blowing along with the harsh winds. Donned in his usual robes, he was as attractive as ever. The first time you stumbled upon him -- one of the famous five -- you nearly forgot to breathe. You had referred to him as Alatus then, starstrucked by such a powerful being.

You would never not awed by him. The way he held himself would always come to remind you of the big gap in strength between the two of you. Maybe you did establish a relationship with this all-mighty Yaksha, but this inferiority complex was tugging your strings more than you'd like to admit.

At the same time, he provided you the distraction needed. He kept you grounded, which prevented you from going mad. He was the only one who made you feel human, if that was even possible.

Golden amber hues landed on you, withholding an unreadable expression. He walked up to your beaten up form and sat down, unbothered by the rain. Struggling to get yourself into a sitting position, you looked out at the view in front.

"You used up too much of your power again," he murmured.

"Do you think I don't know that? I had no choice," you sighed.

His sharp eyes narrowed further. "You were being careless."

"It happened. There's nothing I can do to change it." His anger barely dwindled and the scowl only deepened. "Come on, Xiao. I don't want to talk about my mistakes when I'm with you. Busy as we are, I barely get to see you as of late. Can't we just enjoy our brief time together?"

That got him. His eyes softened at your words and he reluctantly nodded in agreement. Seizing the victory, you laid your head on his shoulder, feeling warmth even upon this cold weather. The rain was starting to let down too -- perhaps Xiao was the lucky charm.

"What have you been up to?" you inquired.

"Demons. Monsters. The usual," he responded. His cheeks tinged with a soft pink all of a sudden. "I... I also got you something."

Your ears perked up at the sound of this. Lifting your head, you watched him in curiosity. He took something out from his robe pockets and slowly opened his palm. Laying there was a blue, glowing object. Shaped as a butterfly, it was gorgeous. You had never seen this kind of butterfly around these parts. He must have traveled far to have found it.

"It's a crystalfly," he mumbled, averting his eyes in embarrassment. Your heart raced at his actions. He was too cute. Before meeting him, you could have never imagined the Vigilant Yaksha to possess such qualities. "I saw it and... thought it would look good in your hair."

"Oh, I love it. Thank you," you whispered breathlessly, touched beyond words. This was exactly what you meant with how Xiao could easily brush your problems away with a smile.

Before you could stop yourself, you leaned in and kissed his lips. They were soft as petal leaves. He returned the gesture immediately, arms wrapped around you in a warm embrace. Digging your fingers into his hair, you kissed with a ferocity that was never present in your fights. This was to release the pain you dealt with today. As long Xiao was here, you were going to be okay. As long as he was by your side, you were going to be okay. This era of demons and gods will end someday, leaving you a happy future with him.

You tasted him. His lips. His mouth. His entire self. He tasted of mint. He tasted of life. He tasted of iron. The kind of metal tang found in blood. Sighs were exchanged upon each kiss, breathless but the two of you would not let the other go. Your lips trailed down to his jaw, peppering his baby-soft skin with a few nibbles here and there. He let out a gasp.

Finally you pulled away, giggling at his flustered state for your bold moves.

The end was nearing. He picked up the crystal fly and reached up to your [h/c] hair. While he gently pinned it down, you could only focus on his swollen lips. He was beautiful... and you loved him so.

"[Y/N]," he said, interrupting the honey silence of the mountains. "If you are ever in trouble, just call my name and I will come to you. In any circumstance, avoid overusing your power."

This bliss that left you giddy disappeared as quick as it came. All that remained was the harsh, cruel reality. Brows knitted together in offense and you quickly shook your head. "Why would I do that? I'm a Yaksha. What kind of Yaksha seeks help from another? This wounds my pride, Xiao. Is your faith in my skill and strength that low?"

"No. That's not it," he argued, features twisted in desperation. "Why won't you let me protect you?"

"Unbelievable," you merely scoffed, staggering up to stand. "I have to go. I'm sure you do too."

Ignoring his blubbering protests, you jumped down upon ledges until you reached ground level safely. He didn't understand what you had to go through. He never had to face judgement from those who didn't believe in you. Strong enough to battle the demons both externally and internally, Xiao was different from you. But even so... even if his words meant that he only cared for you, it hurt like you had been just stabbed.

You were willing to prove to him that you could stand on your own feet. He was going to eat his own words. So would the other Yakshas who looked down on you your entire life. If you trained hard enough, surely improvement could be gained. Right? It wasn't as if destiny could determine what you could accomplish already.

Approaching the forest that was said to contain many strong demons and monsters, you surged ahead, with eyes filled of challenge.

There, sitting in a nook was a cave, Sensing a suffocating presence, you knew you had hit a jackpot. Sneaking across the grassy lands, you stayed silent. The tall, towering trees were beginning to look a lot more ominous. Tiptoeing to the edge of the cave, you peered in to find the energy unbearably strong. One staggering breath later and you went forward. A roar let out, signaling that it knew of its intruder. Shoulders tensed up and sweat beaded your forehead, but you couldn't stop now. No matter what, you were going to go through with it.

It was a beast. Fangs gleamed in the darkness, nearly the size of your weapon. Having woken from its slumber, its terrifying eyes landed on you. Claws swiped the air, which you barely avoided in time. Fear had seized you with a hand, choking you until you could barely move. This was a terrible, foolish move. There was no way you could beat such a demon.

Calling in more power, it filled you up at the core. To waste no time, you delved right into battle, slashing at the monster. It had little to none effect on it. With a lazy swipe of its arm, it slammed you right into the cave's walls, causing you to spit out blood. Pushing yourself up, you tried again, putting in more power to your weapon. Adding hydro to the mix, the weapon hit its arms. It caused the monster to roar in pain, but that only made it more angry. Barreling straight to you, similar but much more frightening than the last demon, it pounced on you, pinning you down to the ground.

Drool left its mouth, splattering all over on your face. Its claws dug into your side and you let out a piercing scream. You were so fucking sick of this shit. Why was it destined that you had to stay weak? It was so unfair you wished to cry your heart out.

The last of the powers was used. Pushing the demon's hold on you, you stumbled up and felt thrill run through. It was delicious, but your mind was also beginning to grow hazy. "X-Xiao..." you uttered out.

The Conqueror of Demons arrived as soon as you called, anxious to apologize for his insensitivity. What he didn't expect to see was a battlefield. A large and strong demon was torn apart to pieces, the iron smell of it so strong, it was gagworthy. Sitting on the pile of bones was you, dark, gruesome scratches decorating your arms and legs. A deep gash was bleeding from your torso and your [e/c] eyes were dimmed; at the same time, they held a crazed look in them.

His face paled and his body grew cold at the sight. You did the thing he last wanted to happen. Already too far in and consumed by the darkness surrounding your whole life, you were looking at him not with love, but with bloodlust. "I'll kill you, Xiao!" you screamed at the top of your lungs.

Climbing down, you tried to run to him. But your footsteps halted and you crashed to the ground. Spazzing out as if you had just been electrocuted by lightning, the Vigilant Yaksha slowly approached you, tears streaming down the side of his face. He kneeled down, cradling your head in his lap. "Don't leave me..." He hit the ground in fury. "Dammit! Why didn't you listen to me!?"

Consciousness returned but you were on the brink of death. The wound was deep, but so were the demons. It was raining again, so you forced a small smile out. "I'm weak. It's my fate," you whispered. "At least I won't have to suffer through this darkness any longer. It's over. I quit. You won, my demons. I am yours to keep."

"Shut your mouth," he snarled. The rain had turned into a storm, adding fury into the mix. "Please. You can make it through this. Don't leave me yet. It was going to get better. An era with no more demons to haunt us. You said so yourself."

"That was just a stupid dream."

"Don't fucking say that," he growled, flinching as if he'd just been slapped. You were supposed to be the optimist here. It meant that this death was real... and that you would accept it with open arms. "It's going to happen. So hold on. Let me find someone to save you."

Your head shook and you winced. "We all learned this since young. We'll die if we let our power consume us. It's impossible and you know it."

"Stop," he choked out, lowering his head until his hair covered his broken expression. "Then don't talk. Save your breath."

You ignored his words. "Thank you... for the crystalfly. Does it look pretty on me?" you murmured.

He heaved out a sob and slowly nodded. "I've never seen anyone more beautiful."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

"And I'm sorry."

"I am too."

"Protect... the people... like you always do, my sweet, Vigilant Yaksha." Your voice grew more raspy by the second, for the pain was getting unbearable.

You fluttered your eyes shut and the pain faded. On the other hand, Xiao's pain grew, the scars and trauma there to haunt him, for a life and infinity.

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fairyoftbz · 4 years ago

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Tournesol | Changmin

🌻 pairing: shy florist!changmin x fem!reader (briefs mentions of barista!Jacob & tattoo artist!Kevin) 🌻 genre: fluff, slow-burn, strangers-to-lovers (?) 🌻 word count: 3.1k 🌻 synopsis: you are new in town so you decide to explore a bit of your neighbourhood. You never knew that the flower shop down your street would change your life in a good way. 🌻 requested? : yes, thank you so much! ✨ 🌻 A/N: here comes my first ever post for my first personal project! thank you to the anon who requested this and i hope you’ll like it! constructive feedback is always welcomed in my dms or my asks! I will write the English translation of the French word I used in that way. PS: If anyone wants to be tagged on my future posts for this project, please let me know !!

Locking the front door of the brand-new apartment you had just moved into, you pulled down your light coat’s sleeve after dropping your keys in your little cross-body bag. You walked down the few flights of stairs that separated you from the entrance hall, quickly checking if you had any mail and walked out the door as it was found empty.

Today was your lucky day because the wind stopped blowing right before you woke up, and the sun decided to show up as you were enjoying your breakfast, making you finish it on the little balcony right outside your living room. You couldn’t ask for a better start of the day, the light mood and warm atmosphere bringing nothing but a huge smile on your face.

You greeted the old lady with a wave and a bow as she was swiping the entrance of the bakery, wishing her a great day as you kept your route.

Two weeks ago, as you were moving in, the baker happened to be with her son and some of his friends, and instead of helping her serve the bakery customers, she sent them over to your place as she knew who you were, since you visited her place in a rush the day before. She seemed to have the gift of the gab because she was quick to ask if you were new around the neighbourhood. You remember being surprised by her behaviour and politely answered, but you were glad that you had this conversation with her. You weren’t even halfway through your move that the 4 boys appeared in the entrance hall, offering their help. Feeling a bit suspicious at first, you kindly refused, but when one of them offered you a smile extremely similar to the baker and introduced himself as her son, you finally gave in and accepted their help.

The amount of time you had planned for your move got reduced by almost three thanks to them. They followed your orders like no one else, and once they were done moving the boxes around the rooms and left, you quickly went to the local convenience store you had spotted at the other street corner and bought 4 bottles and some chocolate for them. You walked by the bakery the following day, and the son happened to work here, replacing his mother while she was at a doctor’s appointment. He was touched by your small gifts, and he made sure to call his friends to come over and get them while you slipped away from the bakery to go to IKEA. Before you got to leave, he advised you to take a few walks around the neighbourhood to get to know your surroundings. You wished you could have followed his advice earlier, but you were busy with moving in and get ready for your interviews that could lead you to potential jobs.

But today was the weekend and you decided to take some time for yourself and follow the advice of the baker's son. It was a beautiful day, and you had planned to make the most of it to get familiar with your neighbourhood.

Your area was surprisingly calm to be in the middle of the city, but you weren’t going to complain since it was something you were dying to have: a friendly, quiet neighbourhood. The nice smell of the bakery lingered around you as you walked past the building, following you until you turned at a corner, leading you to a new, unknown street. Some shop windows were beautifully decorated, and you mentally took some notes of the various local shops that could become potentially useful one day. You walked past a china shop, staying for a few seconds to admire the detailed and precise work displayed in the window display. Offering a smile to the young lady inside the store, you walked away and looked around, noticing something that caught your attention on the opposite pavement. You quickly checked as no car drove by and crossed the street, smiling as two shops were the polar opposite of the other. The flower shop in front of you was sweet, it smelt delicate and chic, just like flowers. The walls were covered by some off-white roughcast, adding a soft touch to it.

A few meters away, on the left of the flower shop, was a tattoo parlour. You giggled as you noticed the cliche that emanated from the two places. The parlour was covered in black, with a Gothic, biker style, posters of metal and rock music pasted around the walls, hardcore music blasting from the speakers, completely contrasting with the softness and the sobriety of the flower shop. A tattoo artist appeared behind the counter that was situated next to the window and your eyes widened, trying to quickly count the number of tattoos and piercings that was decorating his body. A single front piece of hair was dyed blond among the other jet-black strands, his warm smile standing out from the rest of his physical appearance.

You turned your head to the side as you focused on the flower shop, its atmosphere suiting you better despite the next-door shop spiking up your interest. You smiled at the yellow Beetle parked in front of it and pushed the door open after a few seconds of consideration, a small bell tingling as it hit the glass door.

The smell of pollen and freshly cut flowers welcomed you in, the intensity of the colours making you slightly dazed. They were all gorgeous, the arrangements giving you an impulsion to buy a bouquet of each flower they had in store, but that would never happen.

“Welcome!” a voice from under the counter greeted you, a man appearing behind it a few seconds later, secateurs in hand. You smiled as you greeted him back, charmed by how similar he was to his store, soft and friendly. He stayed behind the counter, watching you walk around his shop, all of his other activities and tasks were instantly forgotten as soon as you stepped a foot inside his store.

Changmin was amazed by your smile, finding you incredibly beautiful, his heart hammering in his chest at the sight of your admiring smile creeping across your lips. He was dying to talk to you and get to know you, but he knew himself, he was most likely going to make a fool of himself if he ever dared to exchange some words with you. He was already pleasantly surprised that he had managed to welcome you without getting in a muddle or stumbling on his words.

With a slightly shaking hand, he diagonally cut the end of the red roses resting on the counter. He couldn’t help but glance at you, which you didn't notice, luckily for him. However, by paying too much attention to you and your gorgeous smile, he began to cut the stems a little too rapidly and too high, alas once pinching a piece of skin between the pruning blades, making him jump in pain and let go of the gardening tool. Changmin stifled a groan of pain and rushed into the back office, looking for the first aid kit. He hurriedly found a sticking plaster and wrapped it around his cut, pressing on the wound to ease the pain and get back to work as quickly as possible.

As he reappeared in the doorway that separated the back office from the front office, he heard the bell above the door chime again, signalling your departure.

His shoulders subsided and he watched you walk away with a disappointed pout. He sighed in sadness and pushed the roses away, nervousness and guilt fuelling his mind and regrets.

"Shit," he sighed, picking up the wilted petals of a few roses that were littered on the floor, shoving them into the front pocket of his apron. He blamed himself for not having spoken to you to at least know your name. Quickly, Changmin walked around the counter to door, showing the “now-closed” store sign as remorse flooded his veins. He let his feet guide every single one of his moves, now finding himself in the storeroom. He took a pencil and his notebook sticking out of his bag before returning to the counter.

Closing his eyes, he tried to remember your face and began a sketch. He erased a line, then two, then several, feeling the frustration overcome him as the portrait did not correspond to what he had seen a few minutes earlier at all. Changmin had a perfect image of you in his mind, but maybe the stress of forgetting you or his shaking hands prevented him from replicating your gorgeous face on paper.

Completely unaware of what was going on behind those four walls, you kept on walking around the neighbourhood until your feet hurt and decided to go back to your apartment.

The next morning you enjoyed the rays of sunlight that your curtains had failed to filter for a few minutes, smiling shyly as you remembered seeing the florist appearing in your dreams. He was here, you recognised his face, but you couldn't hear what he was saying. He sounded extremely sincere and filled with love, but it was probably just your lonely mind playing tricks on you. You decided to get up, a sudden urge for pastry invading your thoughts, your stomach growling at the sudden idea. After dressing appropriately for going out, you walked through your doorstep and walked leisurely to your favourite bakery. The baker was sitting on a chair on the small terrace of her shop, sipping tea with who appeared to be her husband.

"Morning Sir. Ma'am," you bowed, greeting them warmly, the baker hurriedly setting down her tea mug to gently grab your wrist. "Dear, this is the young lady Jacob and his friends helped move in the brick building, around the street corner that I told you about. Remember that?" she explained to her husband, who took the time to swallow his sip while nodding. "Ah, the bottle of wine and the chocolate," he says looking at you and you smiled, as it was your turn to nod. "That's right," you stated, holding out your hand for him to squeeze, which he did delicately. “Thanks again,” you told them, and the baker waved her hand in front of her face, a genuine smile on her face. "Oh please, don’t worry about it, it's okay," she declared, and you thanked them again before entering their bakery. Jacob was behind the counter chatting with an old lady who seemed to waylay him. He noticed you and apologised to her, seeing him sigh before greeting you. Jacob was a sweet man, always ready to help everyone and too nice to say no. Talking and getting to know him was a piece of cake, he was so nice to hang out with and a gem to have around.

"Y/N, hello! What can I get you?" he offered you a beautiful smile, which he got from his mother, noticing another time the striking similarity with the old woman on the terrace. "I'm going to get a baguette and one of those," you say, pointing at a pain au chocolat sprinkled with powdered sugar in the little window that separated you from the young man. He smiled and grabbed a metal clamp, placing the pastry in a paper bag. Typing a few things on the machine, you handed him a banknote and he gave you back the change, along with your pastries. You thanked him and started to leave when a familiar figure stood at a table against the window.

Changmin was quietly drinking his coffee when he heard a conversation start from outside the window. He almost spat out the liquid he had in his mouth when he saw you talking with the owners of the bakery, his eyes widening at the sight of you. He pursed his lips to stifle a smile and continued to drink his coffee, tapping on his phone screen. His heart was hammering harder, faster, in his chest as he tried to keep a low profile, lowering his head in case you were to curiously look around the place. He sighed through gritted teeth when he heard your complicity with Jacob, feeling a touch of jealousy pinching his heart without intending to. Changmin nervously finished his cup of coffee in one sip, the warm liquid burning his throat, not bothering looking up. Stuffing his phone in his jacket pocket, he was ready to go when he saw you still in the store, immediately freezing as his brown eyes met your sparkling ones.

"Hello!" you told him with a smile, waving discreetly with one hand while the other clutched the brown bag against you. He blinked several times, your beauty and kindness bouncing around his skull. He answered you with a brief, serious nod and walked away without even saying goodbye to his friend behind the counter. You watched him leave out the window before turning to Jacob, who was looking at you with a thin smile on his lips. "Did I say something wrong?" you asked him, and he exhaled a laugh through his nose, shaking his head from side to side. "Not at all. Changmin is just a very shy person sometimes," he said, and you nodded, still a bit confused from the florist's behaviour, but you said nothing and walked out of the store after wishing for a good day to Jacob. The latter smiled as you walked in the opposite direction from Changmin, greeting another customer as he understood his friend’s behaviour.

A week passed and it was time for you to start your new job. You had used up a good chunk of your last salary to pay for furniture and taxes which you barely remembered the names of, so you needed to have a new entrance of income. You applied to a real estate agency that wasn't far from where you live, as a financial chief director, exactly what you worked at in your previous city. You had to walk past the florist to get to your new workplace, but the florist was the only closed shop on the whole street, which surprised you. You had the opportunity to talk a little more with Jacob, and he had confessed to you that Changmin loved his job and was a flower enthusiast, which confirmed your concern when you didn't see his store open.

A smile grew on your face at the end of the day, when you took the same path as this morning, seeing the shop illuminated. When you had assembled your furniture, you remembered that you wanted to decorate your apartment with more greenery and flowers. Seizing the opportunity that the florist was still open, you pushed open that same door you had walked through a few weeks ago, the same wonderful smell and tinkling bell welcoming you inside.

You noticed a brown chunk of hair behind a large, flowered wall, immediately recognising Changmin's slender figure. You heard him clear his throat as he hummed a tune, arranging a bouquet.

Changmin heard a customer walk into his store and finished his bouquet of sunflowers and red roses before revealing himself, his eyes opening widely as he discovered your innocent smile and your office outfit. The pencil skirt and beige suit you wore made his heart fuzzy with warmth, his mind only filled with how pretty you looked.

“Good evening,” you greeted him, and he nodded, swallowing his saliva before answering you. "Welcome," he said, his husky, uncertain voice melting your heart. He managed to smile, finding dimples growing in the corners of his mouth, he was handsome when he was smiling with reddened ears. "I would like to know if you have any flowers or plants to recommend to decorate my apartment," you clear your throat before telling him your request. "May I ask the colour of your walls?" he asked in a hesitant voice, looking everywhere around the shop except you. "White, cream, and some in greyish tones as well," you explained and he nodded mechanically, looking through his stock.

"I can suggest you some dried pampas grass with cotton stems. It's... quite sober and low maintenance," he walked around the counter and you followed, his hands grabbing a few stems which he gathered under your nose. You liked the harmony of the two plants, you already had an idea where to put these at your place. "I like them a lot, I'll take a bouquet," you stated, and he nodded, giving you a small smile as he walked over to the cash register. He remained motionless for a few seconds, his finger hovering above a key. You saw him take a deep breath before disappearing into the back office, making you frown for an instant.

Changmin reappeared a few seconds later and you looked at him in shock, expecting everything but this. He held out an arrangement of sunflowers and roses in front of you, the warm tones of yellow and red reminding you of the summer warmth.

"It's for you," he said, holding your gaze, the tips of his ears turning a crimson red. You remained a few seconds dumbfounded in front of the bouquet, not knowing what to do. "For me? But in what honour? I don't deserve it," you stated but he insisted with a nod, so you shyly took the bouquet and gave him a big smile, your heart pounding. "That's so sweet, thank you very much," you told him, plunging your nose into the flowers, the scent of the two flowers blending beautifully together. He seemed to be breathing again when he discovered pure happiness in your eyes, giving you a big smile as well.

“You are as radiant as a sunflower, I… I wanted to gift you some,” he confessed, and you were touched by his words. “And the red roses… well, I don't think I should draw you a picture,” his voice trailed, and you were both embarrassed, but you could still feel some connection emerge between you two. Looking at the flowers again, you noticed a small card hanging at the base of the bouquet, and you flipped it to read it.

"A date to celebrate my arrival here?" you asked, surprised he knew this information about you. "Only if you want to, of course. I accidentally overheard your discussion with Mr and Mrs Bae, I thought it would be a good opportunity for me to show you around the city," he scratched the back of his neck, an embarrassed look painted on his face, apprehensive about your reaction. "With great pleasure," he looked up and sighed in relief, making you smile at his behaviour. "Saturday morning in front of the bakery, is that okay with you?" "It's perfect." He smiled while nodding, his brown eyes lingering into yours for seconds that seemed to last forever, but he didn't feel so intimidated anymore.

He almost felt confident, and that only sounded promising for the days to come.

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hanoella · 3 years ago

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Affettuoso- With Feeling (Part 8)

Pairing: Bucky x Pianist!Reader

Set after the events of TFATWS: In an effort to start over and make a home in Louisiana, Bucky meets a friend of Sam’s who ends up being his landlord. With only a driveway to separate them, he finds that he’s not the only one looking for a fresh start.

Series tags/warnings: Slow Burn, Eventual Bucky x Reader, Mentions of Domestic Abuse, Canon Level Violence, PTSD, PG-17 Romantic Content (oooooh), talk of sex

Part 8 Word Count: Just under 8k

A/N: It's starting to heat uppppppp👀. I always sort and curate the music so that you can listen to the music as you read the story and match the tone, starting from where I insert the song. Unfortunately, tumblr is being idiotic, and now I can't post the songs to play in-app for some reason. Sorry guys😭 If you haven't given it a try, I highly recommend!

Once again, thank you for all your support! Every heart and comment motivates me and is just so wonderful.

Taglist!: @vicmc624 @officiallykuute @undiadeestos @tailsoflightning @buckys2thicc @mischief-siriusly-managed

Winter

Bucky looked in the mirror nervously, mussing his hair up. It was a bit longer than when he had first come to Louisiana, and he had been overwhelmed by the sheer number of choices when it came to men’s hair products. He thought it looked okay, using the man on the front of the packaging as reference. It was a good thing you two were taking your car. He wasn’t sure if his work would’ve survived the motorcycle helmet. Glancing over the rest of his ensemble, he gave himself a nod of assurance. It was concert weekend, and also the day you were going on your first date. After contemplating on when to go, you had suggested a late night dinner after that weeks second concert and Bucky had thought it was a fine idea at the time. Though, now, he realized that he would have to sit through the concert first.

He picked up the bouquet of flowers he had gotten with the hair product the other day and headed to the door. Before leaving, he bent down to pet a sleepy Alpine, who was currently dozing peacefully in the last rays of the sun for the day.

“Wish me luck.” He said to the cat, who purred in response.

He left and crossed the driveway to your house. Knocking on your screen door, he waited expectantly.

“Come in!” He heard you call from inside.

He opened the screen door and crossed the threshold. He’d done it plenty of times before, but this time felt different. Seeing that the living room and kitchen were empty, he headed down the hall to your bedroom, where the light was filtering out of. Cautiously opening the door, he saw you sitting at the vanity, dressed in your typical rehearsal outfit of a blouse and slacks, and putting on the final touches to your makeup. You blinked to adjust to the mascara and turned towards him, a smile spreading across your cheeks.

“Hey!” You stood up to hug him and then take him in. “You look great, Buck.”

“Thanks, you too.” He replied, still coming across rather stiff from the nervousness. You looked up at him, slightly amused but keeping it to yourself. After a moment of gazing at your features that were complemented by the makeup you had just put on, Bucky cleared his throat and gifted you the bouquet.

“Oh, these are beautiful. Thank you so much.” You said as you admired the large white peonies, accented by bundles of pink hydrangeas and various types of eucalyptus. A green satin bow held the stems together as you felt the velvety petals between your fingertips. You grabbed his hand afterwards and squeezed it as you held the bouquet to your chest. “Thank you,” you repeated as you looked up at him. Bucky felt slightly more at ease, giving you a small but genuine smile.

“Of course.”

You set the bundle down gently before going over to your bed and unzipping the garment bag and holding the dress out for him to see.

“Is this too much to wear for the concert and then dinner? I figured I’d dress a little simpler so I don’t stand out too much at the restaurant.”

Bucky stepped closer and touched the luxurious navy blue fabric. The dress was cut so that it had a slight halter neckline, exposing minimal shoulder. It wasn’t until he saw the bottom end of the dress that he caught a glimpse of what you normally liked to wear. Flowers and greenery adorned the bottom half of the skirt, detailed in such a way that it looked like they had been painted right on the dress. The soft pastel brushstrokes formed rounded petals and long wispy leaves.

“It’ll look great on you.” He said with affection in his tone. “But you don’t have to change anything for me. All the gowns that you wore before looked great too, but what really makes them is the fact that you’re wearing them.”

It was your turn to blush, turning slightly to try and hide the pink on your face. You thanked him softly before excusing yourself to the kitchen to get a vase for the flowers. As you were filling the vase with water, you held your hand to your cheek in an effort to cool down your face. Coming back to your room, you put the flowers in water and turned to Bucky, who had sat himself down on the edge of the bed.

“Ready to go?”

---

Bucky sat on the green velvet couch in your dressing room, reading something on his phone as he listened to the rustling behind the room divider behind him.

“How do I look?” You asked, coming out from behind the divider and into the room. You were dressed in the gown from earlier, now with black flats and earrings that mimicked flower petals falling in the wind. You had decided on a more romantic look for your hair, settling on large loose waves, one side pinned back with a dainty silver bar clip.

He couldn’t help but smile.

“Beautiful.”

Who knew one word could give you such a fluttering in your stomach.

“Thank you.”

You sat next to him, folding one leg underneath of you and leaning against the couch, facing him.

“Are you going to be okay up in that box all by your lonesome?” you teased, reaching across and grabbing the tips of his fingers with yours.

“I hope so. I’ve got a date tonight.” He replied playfully. He always felt so warm, so comforting. You looked at him with affection before your eyes flitted to the clock behind him.

“I should probably get to the stage.” You sighed while you said it, reluctantly starting to get up and pull your hand away. Before you could completely escape his grasp, he squeezed your hand slightly.

“You’ll do great. See you after?” His look was slightly reminiscent of a puppy. You smiled wistfully and squeezed his hand back.

“See you after.”

You separated in the hall, you going one way to the stage and him going the other way to the box. Before he stepped inside, he realized he didn’t have a program. He made his way to the front and found an usher with a stack of programs.

“Can I have one of those?” He asked, coming off slightly more gruffly than he meant to.

“Sure, sir.” The usher handed him one and Bucky thanked him before turning. Halfway down the hall, he picked up the whispering of another usher who had come up to the one that had the programs.

“Is that Ms. Novikov’s boyfriend?”

“No way, is that who that was?”

“He always sits in her own personal box. It has to be.”

Boyfriend. Such a funny word. Bucky hadn’t been anyone’s boyfriend in decades. It almost felt silly to be dating somebody. It was like someone blowing all of their money on something they couldn’t afford. It felt reckless to invest so much feeling and time and emotion when he had so little of those things on his own. Yet, what little he had, he gladly spent on you.

“He is so hot. I would just let him-“

Bucky’s eyes widened as he heard several terms he didn’t understand. Clearing his throat, he walked a little faster back to the box.

---

You had laughed so hard that you were crying as Bucky tried to repeat some of the stuff he had overheard. Deciding to check on him during intermission, you had popped up to the box for a minute. After complimenting you on your playing, having performed what Bucky thought to be amazingly, as you usually did, he couldn’t stop the face he had made as his mind thought back to the usher. Needing to sit down, you had sat in one of the seats in the box, doubled over in a combination of laughing and crying.

“It’s not that funny!” Bucky whisper-yelled at you, as you gasped for breath, face in hands. He turned around to see that the next several boxes were looking over to see what the commotion was. One particular look on an older woman’s shocked face made him turn around quickly and try not to laugh.

“It’s not funny!” He said again, though now he was obviously trying to hold back his own laugh, which just made you laugh even harder.

Starting to calm down, you leaned back onto the seat, still clutching your stomach. Letting out some deep breaths, a burst of giggles fell out of your mouth, evolving into full on laughter again.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” You said, regaining some semblance and wiping your eyes carefully as to not ruin any makeup. “That is just hilarious. I love it.” You concluded as you sighed and closed your eyes.

“You are just… something else.” Bucky replied, a huge smile overcoming his face despite the fact that he was shaking his head. The lights flickered overhead to signal the end of the intermission. You got up, straightening out the skirt of your dress and giggling.

“You can meet me at the dressing room after.” You said, waving your fingers at him. He had the same smile on his face as he watched you sweep aside the curtains and disappear. As embarrassing as it was, Bucky was thankful that it had broken the ice, no longer leaving him feeling awkward, nervous in your presence. As he was turning back to face the front, Bucky made eye contact with the same old lady in the box next door. Quickly, he cleared his throat and settled in his seat, adjusting so that he was sitting up straighter.

Several minutes went by before the conductor came back out, followed by you. He gave his usual introduction of the piece, explaining the history and the background behind the melody they were about to hear. This one was another piano feature- this time by Chopin.

The opening note was long and forceful, followed by a back and forth of a set of notes on your left hand that quickly sped up into an impressive speed. Your right hand entered the melody, quickly flitting back and forth to the end of the keys. The quickening of the keys sounded desperate, like a hare running frantically to safety from the jaws of a predator.

Both of your hands ran down from the higher keys to the low ones, somehow managing to hit very precisely on each intended note on the way down. Once in the lower octaves, the melody slowed. Your hand movements were graceful, body language and tone changing to one of peace. You spent some time exploring the gentle melody, conveying a feeling similar to the quiet after the storm. Just as Bucky expected the end of the melody, what would’ve been a period in the phrase of the major key, turned into a comma. The minor key from before took control of the music once more, somehow more desperate than before. The pace of your breathing sped up as you put more force behind the fleeting notes. The minor key evolved into a more complex intertwining of notes before unraveling into a major key once again, saying its last words and taking its last breath before dissipating into the auditorium.

Applause burst forth from the crowd, conveying more than Bucky could ever put into words about how incredible your performance was. How incredible you were. Still catching your breath, you stood at the conductor’s prompting, stealing a glance at Bucky, who was standing as he clapped, before bowing in acceptance of the praise.

---

After the concert, he drove you to New Orleans. At the restaurant, you were sat at a table on the edge of the dining room behind a low privacy partition. It was dimly lit, the small candle in the middle of the table creating a very intimate atmosphere. You sat across from each other at the two-person table, browsing the menu. Yours was laid flat on the table as you leaned over it, resting your chin on your clasped hands. Bucky’s was held up, serving as a way for him to sneak glances at you. The candlelight gave your hair an ever-moving sheen. It was nothing compared to how it lit the color of your eyes as you met his eye and smiled.

The romantic piano music played softly in the background as he set the menu down and let a gentle smile overtake his features. Your eyelids slowly lowered. You loved the little crow’s feet that appear by his eyes when he genuinely smiled.

“How’d I do on the first date setting?” You asked. The cozy restaurant had been your pick.

“You hit it out of the park. It’s very nice.” Bucky replied, leaning in a little closer so that he could cross his arms slightly onto the table.

“Isn’t it? There’s a few of them across the country. I used to at the one in New York while I went to Julliard. Can you guess what I did?” You chuckled as you pointed your head in the direction of the live piano music coming from the stage.

“Hmm… Dishwasher? No wait, valet?”

Bucky lives for the smile that comes across your face when you try not to laugh at his antics.

“Absolutely. Always wanted to be a valet. It’s my dream job.” You joked back with a twinkle in your eye. The waiter came up to the table, causing you both to lean slightly back. After introducing themselves and setting two glasses of water down, they asked for your drink order. Bucky nodded for you to go first, ever the gentleman. You turned your head towards the waiter, your gaze lingering on Bucky before giving full attention towards them as you spoke.

“What are some of the best whiskeys you have to recommend?”

Bucky could’ve spit out his water. This place could not be cheap. His suspicions were confirmed as the waiter started listing off various whiskeys that were at least a decade old. About three whiskeys into the list, you saw Bucky tilt his head out of the corner of your eye. Glancing at him, you raised your eyebrows as if to ask if he was interested. He raised his eyebrows and gave a small nod.

“We’ll have that one please.” You said, stopping the waiter when he finished the description. You had selected the sixteen year old single malt with notes of plums, apricots, white truffles, honey, dark chocolate, and hazelnuts. As soon as the waiter turned around, Bucky leaned in and gave you a look of incredulousness.

“Doll, I am all for the finer things in life but that whiskey has got to be a pretty penny.”

You leaned in as well, with a dreamy look on your face.

“Well, if it gets you to call me ‘doll’ then I’ll buy the whole bottle.”

---

Bucky actually did end up liking it so much that you ordered a bottle to take home. He had tried to stop you from paying for it, but you insisted, saying this whole date was on you.

“Just pay for the next one. I picked the fancy place, so I should pay! Besides, you do so much for me all of the time.”

Eventually, he caved in and let you, the assurance of a second date placating him. Dinner had been equally as delicious and sprinkled with easy conversation. Dessert was set on the table with two spoons to share. The entire night was going wonderfully. At this point, with a few bites of dessert left, both of you were lounging while listening to the gentle music as he held your hand across the table.

A group was getting up from the table across the divider when one of them glanced over and recognized you.

“Irina Novikov!”

Your hand left Bucky’s instinctually as you looked in the direction of the voice. Easing when you realized it was a concert goer, you smiled as the group came over to your table.

“We just came from your performance, you did an excellent job. We’ve been coming all season and it’s wonderful to be able to talk to you in person.” A middle aged man said as the rest of his group nodded enthusiastically.

“The pleasure’s all mine. I’m so happy that you enjoy the music that we perform.” You said, shaking his hand.

“Would you, perhaps, be willing to sign our programs?”

“Absolutely.” You said, as you took the pen. You paused slightly before writing the signature. Bucky could tell that you hadn’t thought about it before- how to sign the new name. You signed everyone’s program, making sure to ask for their name and including a short thank you for their support.

“I look forward to seeing you in the audience the next time you’re able to visit.” You said as you handed back the last program and pen. They graciously thanked you and walked away, leaving you to look at Bucky, who was admiring you.

“What?” You asked, cheeks flushing.

“Nothing. You’re just so good to them. Does that happen often?”

“I try to be. I’m sure if I had more people always coming up to me I’d be less patient. To answer your question, it happens occasionally. It happened a lot in New York when I played with the symphony up there. But that was a long time ago.” You looked down wistfully, thinking of the past. Then, you looked up and grabbed his hand.

“But I’m pretty happy where I am now. Don’t doubt that.”

Bucky felt a fluttering in his chest.

After settling the bill and giving Bucky the bottle of whiskey, you put your coat on and held Bucky’s hand as you walked to out of the restaurant. On the way home, he drove as you hummed along to the radio, watching the road signs and the streetlights pass. Eventually the highway turned into main streets and main streets turned into side streets. Maybe if he drove slower, the night didn’t have to end.

Parking in the driveway, Bucky signaled for you to wait before he jogged around the front of the car, opening your door and holding out a hand.

“Oh, what a gentleman.” You laughed as you took his outstretched hand and stepped out of the car. Taking his arm, you let him walk you to your front door. You turned the key and opened the door, turning on the lights before facing him again.

“Well. This was wonderful. I had such a good time.” You said, hugging him around the neck. He wrapped his arms tightly around your waist.

“Me too.”

You pulled back, letting your hands run down his arms and holding his hands in yours.

“I think it’s safe to say that there will be a second date.” You stated teasingly, squeezing his hands.

“I would say you’re right.” He said, boyish charm coming through. You wondered if this is what he was like back before the war. Smiling, you looked into his eyes.

“Thank you for taking me out. You’re so lovely to be with, and it feels unreal to be with you. I think I’ve wanted this for a long time.” Affection was laced throughout your tone.

Bucky opened his mouth to say something and nothing came out. He squeezed your hands once, as if to make sure you were real, and shook his head.

“You took the words right out of my mouth. That’s exactly how I feel about you.”

There was a slight pause before Bucky closed the gap between you. Your bottom lip was between his and you closed your eyes as your hands held his face to yours. You felt your fingertips scrape across his stubble as he held you in his arms, hands supporting your back as he deepened the kiss. After a few moments, you pulled back, a flush over your face and the cold air exposing your breathlessness. He let out a quiet breathy laugh and you did the same.

“You have… no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” He said as he softly put his forehead to yours.

“You took the words right out of my mouth.” You repeated his phrase with amusement. Reluctantly, you took your arms from around his neck and trailed them down to his hands, grabbing both. You took a moment to appreciate how perfectly his hands felt in yours, vibranium and all.

“Goodnight, Buck.”

He squeezed your hands lightly before slowly letting go of your hands.

“Goodnight.”

Putting his hands in his pockets, he waited for you to exit the house, reciprocating your wave as you softly shut the door. Letting out a deep breath, he walked leisurely across the driveway and up to his apartment. He loosened his tie with one hand as he greeted Alpine with the other. She followed at his heels as he got ready for bed, hopping up onto his chest when he finally laid down. Curling up into a ball, she purred as he scratched her neck. Alpine fell asleep almost immediately, but Bucky lay awake, the image of you laughing at something he said across the candlelit table occupying the forefront of his thoughts.

---

The second date had to be rescheduled due to business that Sam and Bucky had to take care of, once again, in D.C. Reluctantly, he had texted you to reschedule.

Have to go to DC tonight with Sam… Go out when we come back?

Bucky watched the bubble type.

If you don’t want to go out again, just say so

He felt like vomiting.

KIDDING! Of course we can.

Taking a deep breath, he typed out a reply.

Not funny. Almost gave me a heart attack. You gonna be okay for a few days?

I’ll be fine, just take care of yourself and be safe, please.

Will do, doll.

A little heart emoji you sent back made Bucky smile before he tucked his phone away and boarded the plane.

---

After a few days of cut-and-dry investigation, they were done by Saturday night. Since they were flying commercially, they had one more evening to kill before the next flight. Bucky was standing idly outside of the crowded comic book store that Sam was currently in. AJ had called Uncle Sam, asking if he could check for a specific volume of a comic that he liked. Happy to oblige, Bucky had told Sam that they could make the stop. Though, once seeing how crowded it was, Bucky opted to stay outside. Feeling a buzz in his pocket, he took out his phone to see a text from you pop up on his home screen. You had sent him a picture of Alpine curled up on the bed next to the dress you were going to perform in.

Alpine has approved my dress selection this evening!

Smiling at his screen as he sauntered down the sidewalk, he typed out his reply.

I agree with Alpine. Very nice selection.

He sent the text and paused, standing in place for a moment before sending a short addendum.

Sorry that I can’t be there.

It’s okay, there’s plenty others :)

Bucky looked up and saw that he had wandered a few stores down from the comic book shop. Craning his head, he didn’t see Sam yet. Turning back to the store in front of him, he glanced at the window display. A set of earrings on the edge of the display caught his eye. The soft pearls and winding gold took him back to another time. It was very reminiscent of the fancy jewelry that adorned the movie stars during his youth.

Glancing back down to the comic store, he had yet to see Sam out front. He took the opportunity to slip into the jewelers. There was a well-dressed couple looking at specific pieces of jewelry but otherwise, the store was empty. An unoccupied salesman approached Bucky warily.

“Can I help you sir?”

“Yes, um… I was interested in getting something from the window display.” Bucky said in a low tone as he gestured to the front. He was overly aware of how ‘rough around the edges’ he looked.

“Which one?” The salesman asked as Bucky followed him to the front. After the earrings were pointed out, the salesman took them out of the case. He gave a little background as he handed Bucky the set.

“This is from our vintage-inspired collection. Modeled after jewelry from the post-art-deco era in the 1930’s, these earrings are the perfect modern gift with a vintage twist.” They dangled on the velvet earring holder as Bucky took a closer look. They were perfect.

“How much?” Bucky asked.

“They’re a bit expensive sir- four hundred dollars.” The salesman said uneasily.

“I’ll take them.”

He paid for the gift and stepped out onto the street, stuffing the earring box into his pocket. No sign of Sam yet. Making his way back up the street, he checked his phone to see that you had texted him a link. He sat on the bench and tapped on the link, which took him to a video that you had uploaded of the opening piece from the night before. He smiled as he saw that you had recorded it from his usual spot in Box One. You walked across the stage on screen, doing your usual bow and taking a seat at the bench. He put the speaker of the phone up to his ear and waited for the playing to start.

“What’re you listening to?”

Bucky almost dropped his phone as Sam cackled.

“Are you finally done?” Bucky said, annoyance seeping out his tone.

“Yeah, c’mon.” Sam said, smirk still on his face.

That night in the hotel room, as Bucky was settling into bed, he played the video once more, this time actually getting to listen. It was a soft melody, warm and deceivingly intricate, lulling him to sleep.

---

The second official date was up to Bucky to plan, since you had gotten to plan the first one. It wasn’t anything extravagant, but he wanted it to be a surprise.

Dress code? You had asked.

He texted back to wear something comfy and casual. He had gone back to his roots, opting for dinner and a drive-in movie. Remembering your favorite snacks from grocery shopping, he made sure to stock up beforehand, stealing your keys and tucking them into the trunk of the car along with a cozy blanket.

He straightened out the wrinkles in his light grey long-sleeve shirt and checked to make sure his jeans and sneakers didn’t have mud on them from the driveway earlier. Satisfied with his appearance, he snagged his leather jacket and went to warm up the car.

Several minutes after he had gotten in the drivers seat and started the car, you stepped out of the house. Your white headband kept the hair out of your face as you locked the door behind you. You had put your hair into two braids that fell against the fuzzy crème sweater. With your outfit completed with light-wash jeans, white sneakers, and a small cross-body bag, Bucky thought you looked absolutely adorable.

“Hey.” He greeted you with a huge smile.

“Hey!” You replied as you messed with the seatbelt. After it clicked, you looked up at him, allowing Bucky to get a better look at you. You had put on a more natural set of makeup that just enhanced your already present features- your eyelashes curling just at the tips, your lips glossy and tinted-pink.

“Where are we going?” You asked.

“You’ll see.”

A coy smile came upon his lips as he shifted the car into drive. It was a longer drive and you made easy conversation as the sun started to set. It always set so early in the winter, making it feel way later than it was. Bucky exited the highway and you perked up curiously, looking to see if you recognized anything. Eventually, he merged into the turn lane, waiting for the light so that he could turn onto the street with a huge sign that read Drive-In Movies, This Way.

“Are we going to a drive-in movie?” You questioned excitedly. Bucky laughed at your enthusiasm and nodded his head.

“Yup. We are.”

You looked forward excitedly as the light turned green and he turned onto the road. Bucky pulled up to a toll booth and rolled down the window. A man peered into the car momentarily before ringing up the register.

“Twenty four dollars please.”

Wordlessly, Bucky pulled out his wallet and handed the man the cash. Letting his left arm hang out of the window while he waited for the change, he took his right and cupped it against the side of his mouth in a dramatic fashion.

“I remember when these used to be a dime.”

Your mouth twisted in an effort to hold back your laughter as Bucky thanked the man for the change. As you pulled off, you couldn’t help but snort.

“Okay, that was cute.” Bucky teased, getting the crow’s feet in the corner of his eyes that you liked so much. You gave him a wide smile as he pulled into the last row. Your eyes grew wide at the trailers playing on the screen.

“Wow, this is amazing. I’ve never been the a drive-in before. The screen is huge!” You turned your head. “And there’s a snack bar!”

“Hold on,” Bucky said as he popped the trunk and exited the car. He lifted the bag out of the trunk and came back around to the door, ducking his head so that he could see you.

“I’ve got some of your favorite,” he said as he passed you the bag of snacks, “and a blanket to stay warm in.”

Your eyes lit up as you looked through the snack bag. He had gotten a variety of candy he’s seen you eat, as well as chips and a bucket of kettle corn.

“Of course, if you want anything else, you can still go to the snack stand.”

“No, Buck, this is great. You’re amazing.” You said as you shook your head, still ruffling through the bag. He laughed and got back into the car, throwing the blanket into the back seat and pushing his chair back. As you got situated, the sun set fully and the movie began playing.

---

There were about thirty minutes left in the movie, and you and Bucky had finished up with the snacks and settled into your seats. The action on the screen did little to distract you from the way Bucky’s thumb rubbed the top of your hand. You stole a glance at him and he met your gaze with an easygoing smile on his face.

“Do you like the movie?” He asked when you did not turn back.

“Oh, yeah, I like it. I’ve actually seen it before. I just really like being here with you.” You propped your elbow up on the center console and rested your chin against your palm, looking at Bucky with a dreamy look in your eyes. “Am I distracting you from the movie?”

Bucky leaned closer to you with an amused look on his face.

“Yes, but I have also seen this movie before.”

It only took a few moments before his lips met yours, parting slightly to taste your strawberry lip gloss. His hand came up to softly hold your face, his thumb brushing against your jawline. When you came apart, the expression on your face made him swallow thickly. Hooded eyes and slightly parted lips tempted him beyond his means. This time, you leaned in to meet him in the middle, no hesitancy behind your actions. You captured his bottom lip, giving it a little kitten lick before gently sucking on it. Bucky let out a small groan into your mouth unintentionally, making your breath hitch.

You kissed for a while, small noises escaping both of you as you tilted your head occasionally to deepen the kiss. Bucky felt something stir in him that hadn’t in a long, long time. It was absolutely intoxicating, being with you like this. All he wanted was a little more. Breaking the kiss, he pulled back just a little, slightly breathless, just as you were. You let out a breathy laugh, cheeks warm and lips swollen. A beat passed before Bucky said something that made you almost choke.

“If we’re going to keep kissing, you should come over here and sit on my lap.”

You turned your head, looking through the car windows. There was no one parked particularly close to you, and your windows were tinted anyway. With an excited grin on your face, you scooted backwards over the center console until your back was resting on the driver’s side door. You were angled slightly to face him, your outstretched legs over his lap and on the center console towards the backseat. You hooked your arms around his neck and giggled. You hadn’t done anything like this since you were in high school.

He chuckled with you before closing the gap. You felt each others smiles as you kissed. Slowly, the kiss deepened. His arms wrapped around your waist as he tilted forward, leaning over you and giving him better access as you opened your mouth to let his tongue in. His hands moved to support the back of your head and your lower back, causing you to groan slightly and shift in his lap.

Bucky opened his eyes in surprise, panicking silently. You hadn’t noticed, eyes still closed as you continued to kiss him. He cursed in his head, shifting you up slightly so that your leg wasn’t resting right on his crotch. Thankfully, he was wearing jeans and you hadn’t given any indication that you had noticed. He chastised himself in his head.

C’mon man, you’re not fifteen anymore. You can’t go around getting stiff every time you kiss a girl.

The bright lights cut back on, startling you and Bucky apart. You squinted your eyes and looked out towards the screen. The credits had just finished. Looking back to Bucky, you both laughed before kissing once more.

---

Afterwards, he took you to a classic diner, treating you to dinner and dessert. There was a jukebox in the corner that you and Bucky had looked at, racking up a few songs. You had danced slightly in your seat when your favorites came on, making him grin like a love-struck fool.

The diner had been close to the drive-in, so the drive home was still pretty long. Full and content, you had dozed off to the tune of the radio playing softly in the background. Choosing to let you sleep, he drove back silently, looking over at you with a smile every once and a while.

He pulled up to the driveway and parked the car, gently leaning over to rub your arm.

“Hey,” he said quietly, “We’re home.”

You hummed in acknowledgement as you yawned and let you eyes adjust to the lights in the car.

“Mmm. Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“It’s okay, it’s late. Let’s get you inside.”

You slowly got up and out of the car, gravel crunching underneath of your shoes. Bucky walked with you up to the front door.

“Goodnight, Bucky.” You said groggily, leaning forward to kiss him. He met you halfway, pecking you on the lips.

“Goodnight.”

He watched you cross the threshold, giving you his usual three-fingered wave when you turned back to wave goodbye.

---

For the third date, you had told Bucky to wear his suit and tie. He had no idea what to expect. Hearing thunder outside, he took a peak through the blinds. The wind was really starting to pick up. Grabbing his phone and wallet, he gave Alpine a quick scratch before heading out. The wind was harsh, even for Bucky’s standards. He jogged across the driveway and up the porch, knocking on the door. A few seconds later, you answered, stepping out onto the porch.

“Hey, I wasn’t expecting the weather to be like this. I got us a reservation at the museum’s restaurant but I don’t think it’s a good idea to travel that far in the rain.”

You looked out at the sky as the wind whipped your hair around your face. Bucky took the moment to admire how attractive you were. You had on an emerald satin cowl-neck dress that had a slit up the side. Dainty gold earrings matched the shimmering tennis bracelet you on. Your heels gave you some height and made it look like you were showing off an ungodly amount of leg.

“I’m sorry Buck,” you started, looking back to him. “I think we’ll have to go out some other time.”

“I understand. You look beautiful, by the way.” He said as he grabbed both of your hands.

You thanked him with an affectionate smile before getting a thoughtful look on your face.

“Would you like to come in for a drink?”

---

You padded back to the living room with two glasses, heels discarded at the door. Bucky, sans coat and tie, had opened a bottle of whiskey. Tucking your leg under your knee, you sat close, facing him. You held out the glasses, letting him poured a small amount in each. He sat the bottle down and you held out your glass to clink it to his. You took a sip of liquid courage, trying to steel your nerves. You held your drink in your lap and put your arm up on the back of the couch, leaning your head on your hand.

“It’s strange how, once we started seeing each other, how much of a rush it feels. Does it feel like that to you?”

“I do. It feels like… I just can’t get enough.” He said with a chuckle.

“It’s quite nice.” You smiled softly. “To find someone you have an understanding with.”

Bucky nodded as he sipped on his drink. You’d only known each other for half of a year, but if he thought about it harder, you had spent a lot of that time together, especially during the last few months. Bonds are also strengthened during trials and tribulation- you were both people looking to start over, to live happily, to do what you love and have a sense of fulfilment.

“I just think you’re amazing. I think it’s amazing that you want to be with me. I went through so much for so long, and now I finally remember what it feels like to have a sliver of happiness. So thank you. It’s been a long time since I’ve wanted to be with anybody,” you started, looking down at your drink, “-and I would imagine it’s been the same for you.”

“Yeah. Since before the war.”

“There’s been nobody since?” Your face changed to one of empathy. Bucky took another sip of his drink.

“Nobody. Except you.” He glanced at you with a look of resolution and longing. Gently, you smiled back at him.

“I must be one lucky gal to catch you this late in the game.”

You looked at each other affectionately and kissed. It wasn’t rough, but still filled with passion. After a moment, you pulled apart. You looked up at him through your eyelashes and bit your lip. Bucky swallowed thickly.

“How… fast do you want to take things?”

He blinked in surprise at your words. He hadn’t expected a straight forward discussion about it, but then again, dating in this age was much different. It did make things refreshingly simpler.

“I, uh…”

You looked at him expectantly and he cleared his throat and apologized.

“Sorry. This is all new for me.”

You set a hand on his thigh encouragingly and offered to go first.

“I can start. I… haven’t been with anyone, physically, since my last relationship and you know how that ended. He could be a little… forceful, and that aspect of our relationship has proven to be one of the hardest things to heal from.”

At this point, you were looking down at your hand, tapping a soothing rhythm from muscle memory onto his thigh.

“… I’m sorry. That must be extremely painful to deal with. Nobody should have to go through that.” He put a hand onto your knee reassuringly, rubbing it with his thumb. You shook your head quickly.

“It’s in the past. I’m happy with where I am now. At the end of the day, that’s what matters. Or at least that’s what I keep telling myself… Either way, I guess what I’m trying to say is… I’m not completely sure what I’m ready for, and I might not know until the opportunity presents itself. Please, be patient with me as I figure this. It’s not because I don't trust you or think you'll hurt me, I just...” You trailed off.

“Of course. Whatever you need. Don’t be afraid to tell me if you’re uncomfortable,” he assured you. “If it makes you feel any better, I haven’t been with anyone… ever.”

“Really? Like, you’re not just saying that to make me feel better?” You looked at him in a way that implied that he better not be messing around.

“I mean, I’ve gotten a little handsy before,” he said in slight defense, lightening the tension. “but I’ve never been with anyone like that. We didn’t talk about stuff like this in the 40’s. It was expected that you… you know, wait until marriage. People still got together physically, but it was way less common back then. Believe it or not, Steve wasn’t the only gentleman out there.”

You nodded your head and looked at him, clearly impressed.

“No, I totally believe that. Wow. Playboy Sergeant Barnes, waiting for the right girl. You know they write about you like you basically invented premarital sex.”

“Pfft.” Bucky couldn’t hold back his laughter. You both fell apart into a round of giggles. You took another sip of your drink and tried to settle down, wiping your eyes and letting out a deep breath.

“So, are you waiting? To be married? It’s totally fine if you are, I’m just curious.”

Bucky shrugged his eyebrows, now bringing his arm to rest against the couch behind you.

“Not anymore. I think I might’ve then, but that was a lifetime ago. I think what matters most is how comfortable I feel with the person. Besides, it’s rude to keep a lady waiting.” His tone changed, wearing a teasing smile on his face. You rolled your eyes, though still smiling, and put a hand on his chest lightly.

“Very funny, Buck. I’m glad we got to talk about it.”

“Me too.”

The rest of the night was filled with cooking together and watching a movie, only to be distracted by each other. You had been making out with him for quite some time before you separated from him, yawning and stretching your arms over your head.

“Alright, I’m tired. Wanna sleepover?”

“What happened to taking things slow?” He half-teased.

“Well, I figured since you’ve already slept over here once, it wasn’t anything new. Plus you are so warm and it’s so cold.” You bantered. Changing to a more serious tone, you reiterated- “Only if you want to.” Bucky squinted his eyes as he thought and then mentally shrugged, getting up off of the couch.

“Sure.”

He followed you down the hall. You padded lightly to your room, pulling your hair to the front of your shoulder.

“Do you need clothes?” You asked as you started unzipping the top of the dress. Instinctively Bucky looked aside.

“No, I’m good, thanks.”

You responded “okay” as you stepped into the bathroom, shutting the door behind you to change in privacy. He looked around before unbuttoning his shirt and shrugging it off, leaving him in a plain white t-shirt. He did the same with his pants before getting in bed on the side you don’t sleep on. Bringing one arm up under the pillow to prop himself up slightly and resting the other on his midsection, he let out a deep breath, getting comfortable. The sheets were extremely soft, and they smelled like you. Hearing the door open, he watched as you came out in a loose long-sleeve t-shirt and soft flannel sleep pants.

“Comfy?” You asked with a smile, hanging up the dress on the door.

“Yeah.”

You got into bed on your usual side and laid on your stomach, propping yourself up on your forearms as you looked down at him. Your hair created a curtain, blocking the light from the lamp and creating your own little bubble.

“Goodnight.” You smiled at him sleepily.

“Goodnight.”

He kissed you softly before settling back down. You turned off the lamp and scooched up next to him. He sighed in contentment and moved his arm so that he was holding you to him. With your head resting on his shoulder, he fell into the best sleep he had had in years.

---

The next morning, Bucky floated back up to consciousness to what felt like bliss. Stirring awake, he blinked his eyes open to find the source of the comfort- you. You were still asleep, curled up next to him, face against his arm. Carefully, he slid out of the bed so as to not disturb you, and went to the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee. He breathed in the morning as he looked out at the bare landscape. After experiencing cryofreeze and the depths of Siberia, the cold couldn’t phase him.

What did phase him, was the warmth he experienced with you. His entire life up until this point had been frigid. Losing his family, his friends, his life, his willpower. Everything around him was nothing but cold to the touch. Then, you came in with a burst of red warmth, thawing him out and letting him feel again. Feel something other than pain and confusion, anger and abandonment. The feeling of actually being happy, which was new and overwhelming.

He hadn’t noticed his breath growing heavier. Putting a hand to his chest, he tried to slow his breathing. Being happy also meant that it could now be taken away. He hadn’t had anything to lose in a long, long time.

The creaking of the floorboards caught Bucky’s attention, and he was able to calm himself down with the distraction. He poured another cup of coffee as you walked into the kitchen. Turning around, he saw you stretch your arms above your head before settling down on the barstool at the counter.

“Good morning.” You greeted him with a sleepy smile, slouching over the counter to watch him pour the exact amount of cream and sugar that you liked into the cup.

“Good morning.” He echoed, handing over the mug and leaning against the counter across from you. “I’m sorry if I woke you up.”

“You didn’t. The delicious smell of coffee did.” You took a sip and sighed. “And maybe the cold did too.”

You reached over the counter for his hand. The warmth of his palm brought much needed heat to the tips of your fingers. He squeezed your hand slightly tighter than normal and you thought nothing of it. You lifted the mug to your mouth by one hand and took a longer drink before settling back in your chair. Your unbrushed hair framing your face as the light of the winter morning lit up your eyes.

Bucky’s breath sped up slightly as he looked at you, completely enamored and terrified of the feeling that was swelling in his chest.

#bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes angst #bucky x you #bucky barnes fluff #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader

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omniscientwreck · 3 years ago

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Like Waves Upon An Open Shore

Pieces of this conversation came to me late last night and I couldn't write anything else until I got this out of my system. This is one in a series of pseudo-character study/ missed conversation fics I have on AO3. There's no lifespan angst here, it's more of a meditation on power and potential.

The first to approach him was Caduceus. After they’d imprisoned Ikithon they combined efforts to build back his home. It turns out that this is something Essek’s particular arcane flare is appropriate for. He is learning to accept that his power has limits and that it likely always will. He’s never had to worry about this before, even knowing that one day he will be among the dirt and there he will stay. He’s never had to consider that the flow of time and how it feeds and consumes life is something one might need to control. When it had hit him, when they’d needed the improbable and he could not deliver, he had cried for this man he’d never known save for fond rememberings told by happy words and sad eyes.

He had come to help them and when they needed him most he couldn’t even fail because he never could have started.

However, fixing a roof is practical. Spreading density until large loads of materials are manageable to carry, freezing objects in place as they’re affixed by regular means. He can be useful here and he is. In the first two days he uses all of his strength helping and at the end of the day he’s exhausted. But Caduceus also needed help with the garden. Yasha had shown him some basics and every night he worked with his hands, for the first time of his life bringing new beauty to a scarred earth.

The first night is quiet and he is alone with his thoughts. The eyes are gone and he can properly think again. The new one, Kingsley, sleeps outside but he’s been through a lot and it’s difficult for Essek to look at him knowing he did nothing. It’s difficult to look at Caleb. To look at any of them for the first day.

But he does. He is trying to learn humility, to learn that whatever ugly thing rises in him (guilt for things he can no longer change and selfishly wouldn’t, longing for someone he has no right to feel close to, regret at working with those who had hurt him so badly, sick satisfaction at seeing him stripped of power, the desire to end him then and there) is not always the most important thing. He works alongside the Nein still. He laughs when Jester jokes, he levitates Luc to catch the child’s attention when he’s being particularly mischievous, he attempts another joke which a few of them catch this time. He is there for them now, an imitation of the way they’ve been there for each other.

He digs into the earth in the cool breeze of dusk, removing his gloves now that the sun is fading on his second night there. He’s elected to tend to the graves of an elven family, many of whom have the last name Akhilvarr. He recognizes the surprisingly light footfalls of the firbolg approaching him as he gently holds two flowers, deciding.

“You’re up late.”

He places the plants down softly in front of the hole he’s dug out, brushing dirt from his bare hands, learning to relish the coating of grime, the feeling of having an impact on the world around you. “I don’t really sleep as much as the rest of you.” He hesitates and from the way Caduceus’ eyes bore through him he knows the statement has a second half, “And I feel like I need to be out here.”

He nods and sits, levelling eyes with Essek who’s still on his knees, facing the graves. “How are you feeling?”

The question is so simple but Essek cannot find an answer that is satisfactory, no words he’s ever known can accurately sum the corners of his heart. “It does not matter right now how I feel. Your home was nearly destroyed, you brought someone back from the dead. I dare not burden you with my own troubles.”

“Essek if I may,” he’s learned by now that Caduceus means this to be a precursor to a deep insight and though he is raw he allows him to continue, “there is a difference in being selfless and being harmful. Now I won’t force anything, only you can know if you’re ready to talk, but I never ask a question I don’t want an answer to.”

“I just-” he can feal traitorous heat as tears threaten to spill over his eyelashes and realizes he can’t wipe them away without streaking his face with mud. “All my life I have trained to be powerful. I have learned to manipulate the equations and theory that make up the way we experience the world. I can manipulate the lenses through which we understand the things around us. I have been touted as a prodigy and I couldn’t do anything to affect fate when it mattered to you all most. I am so thankful that you were there, that you and your god were able to fix a great injustice, but this is the last piece of my world shattering. I thought I could protect you all, to be useful in any circumstance and I was wrong.”

He stares into the two flowers and the purple one to the left blows in the wind, while the yellow remains still. He goes to tuck the purple bloom into the dirt and gently packs earth in around it, protecting roots and brushing dirt off leaves. Caduceus allows him to do this and by the time he looks back up at him, there’s a gentles smile at rest on his face. He knows Essek has more to say and he gestures for him to continue as Essek considers which flowers would most like to celebrate the Akhilvarr family.

“It’s funny, almost. I have heard much about the wonders of gardening and never believed a word. But here I am, dirt under my nails, digging in the earth, repairing damage for once in my sorry life, trying to leave somewhere better than I found it.” he finds a red flower with ruffled petals and a taller white flower who’s stem splits off into several tiny flowers, clustered into one sphere, they seem impatient.

“The gardens at my tower were never tended by myself, I had someone else to do that. They were arranged perfectly, planted with aesthetic and design in mind and little else. Looking idly at the beauty of nature is one thing, but this place-” He looks around, mosses give off a light glow as the sun has now disappeared. Slowly but surely fireflies blink to light up the air around them, dancing from leaf to petal. “I keep having the impulse to decide based on aesthetic. It’s difficult to ignore but-”

Caduceus fills in where he has no words, “That’s not your world anymore. I regret to inform you that as soon as we crossed your path your days of neat little boxes and even rows gained an expiry date. The world is so much wider than the machinations of people, we can never predict what is outside of our purview and when we take a step back, relinquish that control, often something more beautiful will spring up. I have tended this garden for many years, longer than the memory of many and I could never have dreamed up the beauty that lives here now. It gets more and more beautiful as each year grows on because the chaos is nurtured and you are learning that.” Caduceus grabs the trowel and begins digging his own hole, “You have come so far Essek and I do not know whether I have the right to feel this way, but I am immensely proud of you. I’m proud for who you are now, and who you are about to become.”

Essek laughs and it sounds like broken glass, “Proud is a funny word to use for someone who has done as much wrong as I.”

“Each decision we make is a point in a network of thousands of other decisions we make connected to webs of the decisions of everyone who has ever had a hand in our lives. If you and everyone around you acts in fear your decisions will be rooted there. Those are the times where we are most lost and I think you are beginning to realize that.”

Every bad decision flows through Essek’s consciousness and he lets them drift by, hands trembling, and the red flower with the beautiful frills slips from his grasp and falls into place in the hole beside the deep purple of the last planted bloom. It’s fate.

“So each bad decision you’ve made has crashed in on the wave of every other bad decision you’ve made, and every bad decision anyone has ever made about you. Now, every beautiful thing you do, every good decision you make will be carried forward by every good decision you’ve made before. It’s a web, it’s a network where everything is connected and you have as much agency now as you did then, every good decision counts towards every good decision you will make in the future and I know there will be many.”

Tears stream freely down his face now and he doesn’t care about the dirt as he wipes them away. “That is-”

“I believe-”

Again, the silver tongued shadowhand has no words, “Thank you Mr. Clay. I think that is more kindness than I know how to give myself. It is difficult to process and accept but I will try my best.”

Caduceus’ hand wanders through the bag of flowers, not even looking as he picks one, a massive flower, bright white and nearly glowing in the moonlight. He sighs contentedly and plants the flower. They work together in companionable silence and Essek relishes the sound of his companion’s breath, the feeling of dirt sticking under his nails, the gentle breeze that blows through fireflies and looking through them up to the stars, once again teeming with the promise of possibility, change, growth.

AO3 Link Here

#critical role #ficlet #caduceus clay #essek thelyss #character study #no lifespan angst #just some light emotional hurt/comfort #critfic #my writing #wreckwrites

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samthemarvelfan · 4 years ago

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Bloom for Me: One Shot

Summary: Bucky Barnes is number one on the list of people who piss you off. Good ole Cap doesn’t seem to care, and you’re sent on a mission at the behest of Dr. Banner. The tension is so thick, you could cut it with a knife. ...but what kind of tension is it, exactly?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC

Warnings: SMUT...with plot! Angst, and a lil dash of fluff. 18+ ONLY

A/N: SEX POLLEN FIC. I DID IT YALL. I finished a story I’ve held hostage for 3 months lol In honor of Seb’s bday...enjoy! <3

“I cannot express to you how much I’m not going to do this.” You gripe, arms crossed as you glare across the conference room at Steve.

“Ella, please—it’s less than a day. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.” He scolded.

You scoffed, “I’m actually making it quite easy. Send someone else, Steve. I’m not doing it.” You stand from you seat, with all intents being to walk out the door, when you hear a chuckle.

“Told ya, Pal. That’s a $20, fair and square.” He said.

He being James Buchanan Barnes; also known as Bucky.

Also known as a pain in the fucking ass.

You stop abruptly, spinning on your heel to face them. “What was that, Barnes?” You seethe.

“It’s nothing, Ella.” Steve said to you, before turning a glare to his friend. “Drop it, Buck...” He warned.

Bucky walked over to where Steve was standing, putting both hands on his shoulders as he passed by.

“Oh, come on now, Steve. I told you she’d whine about it—that was less than 40 seconds right? I’ll take my $20.” He joked with his friend.

You stomped toward Bucky. “What the hell are you talking about?”

He laughed again. That smug, sarcastic, arrogant laugh. “Me and my pal over here like to place bets on just how much whining we’ll have to hear from you; I do anyway. This time it was ‘Let’s see how long it takes Ella to start acting like a fucking toddler.’”

Your heart hurt a bit at his words. You expect this kinda shit from him, but Steve? Does he feel that way about you, too?

“Ella he doesn’t—“

Steve tried to speak, but Bucky cut him off. “I mean anytime—anytime you’re paired of with me for a mission, you’re always tryna get out of it. You’re like a kid bargaining to not eat their vegetables.”

He stood in front of you now, towering your small frame. “Being friends isn’t a fucking job requirement. Stop acting like a spoiled brat, do the work and get out. Ain’t that right, Steve?”

You and Bucky—believe it or not, were kinda friends at one point.

He’d been one of the only people to properly welcome you to the team, and for a few weeks you were starting to get to know each other well.

Until you had your first solo mission with him. Bucky hadn’t communicated his location, despite your attempt to find him for more than 20 minutes. You needed to blow the building before the targets escaped.

Unfortunately, you forgot to clear your surroundings and you ended up held hostage by a HYDRA agent. Until Bucky burst through the room like a maniac, saving you and the mission.

Since then, he’d been distant, even cold toward you. When you did see him, the two of you couldn’t get along. Passive aggressive comments, name calling, even down right fighting during training sessions were the norm now with Bucky.

You watched the two men. Steve, who’s head was hung low with embarrassment, and Bucky, who’s smug grin you wanted to wipe against the concrete.

“Fuck this. Fuck you both.” You strained. You wanted to cry, but you wouldn’t. Not yet. Not in front of him.

As you make your way out the door, you hear Bucky call out sarcastically, “What? Was it something I said?”

“Why do you do that to her?” Steve asked him.

Bucky felt the shit-eating grin dissolving from his face. “Do what.” It was a statement, and definitely not a question.

Steve scoffed, “You know damn well what I mean, Buck. She didn’t do anything to provoke that.”

Bucky swallowed hard, avoiding his friends gaze. “She’s a fucking brat, Steve.”

Steve shook his head in disbelief, “Do you hear yourself? Would you wanna work with you?” He asked.

Bucky pushed himself from the table, “Look it’s not my fault she almost got herself killed the first time she was put in the field. So she’s got a complex about it, big whoop.”

Bucky didn’t stay to hear Steve’s lecture. Truth be told, he couldn’t stomach it.

He knows how he treats you is disgusting. The bravado he has to put on around the team makes him sick to his stomach, but it’s necessary.

When he saw your life was in danger that day, he fucking panicked. Why did he panic?

He doesn’t know. But the thought of you getting hurt...or worse, made his skin crawl. Bucky wasn’t use to feeling so attached to someone so quickly, and he hated it.

Your safety was always in the front of his mind. Wondering if you were being followed or watched or tortured or—

Stop it, Buck. Stop it. She isn’t yours to worry about. He scolded himself.

Pushing you away was the easiest part. Making you hate him was second nature, but hurting you? Making you think he hated you?

It fucking sucked.

He walked back to his room. Every intention of showering and sulking until he fell asleep, when he heard your voice through the walls.

He stood a few feet from your door, hearing everything. Stupid super soldier perks.

You were crying.

You were crying because of him.

“Fuck.” Bucky seethed through his teeth.

He doesn’t know how or when it happened, but soon he was knocking on your door.

A moment later, it swung open. You stood there, eyes red and puffy. Cheeks wet with tears, and lips swollen.

Probably from biting them like she does when she’s trying not to cry. He thought to himself.

“Come to abuse me some more?” You ask with a pain in your voice he’s never heard before.

It snatched the wind from his lungs. How long had he been making you feel this way?

“Ella, I’m—“

“Save it. I don’t want your fake apologies. Get this straight, I’m not weak.” You growl.

Bucky wonders if your trying to convince him, or yourself.

“I’ll do this mission with you. I’m not going to let you turn this team against me, but after this? We’re done. I don’t wanna hear from you ever again. I’m going to request a transfer to work at the Tower instead.”

The Tower. Manhattan. 3 hours away.

Not with me. Bucky thought.

He couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. He didn’t want you to go, not like this. Not because of him.

“Nothing to say?” You quipped. “Thought so. Goodbye, James.” You said, and slammed the door in his face.

Bucky stepped forward, leaning his forehead against the door.

How did this get so out of hand? How did it get to the point where you’d be so desperate to be rid of his ridicule that you’d leave your home?

Bucky wasn’t sure, but he was going to fix it.

Whatever it takes.

“Make sure to keep the rebreathers on at all times.” Bruce said, closing the hologram of the building.

You nod, “So what exactly is it that makes it so toxic?”

Bruce laughed, “Toxic is a strong word—potent...that’s more fitting.”

You peering at the case file; Votum Floreant.

“Got it, anything else we should know?” You ask, eager to get the mission over with.

Bruce shook his head at you and Bucky. “Don’t thinks so. Just seal it in the case the moment you get it, and keep those rebreathers on while you’re in the jet with it. I’ll take care of it when you guys get back. It doesn’t affect me the way it would you two.”

Bucky looked confused, “If that’s the case, why the hell are we going?”

He chucked, “Its a stealth op. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but being subtle isn’t exactly my forte.”

You smiled, nudging him.

“I’ll keep coms open.” You say, exiting and heading to the flight deck on the roof.

Bucky hadn’t said two words to you since the briefing.

Good. You think.

But also, out of character.

Maybe he’d finally taken the hint that you were done being treated the way he treats you. Maybe he’d been relieved to hear you were requesting your transfer.

Maybe he really did hate you.

The thought tore at your heart in more ways than one. Before the whole mess of your first mission happened, you thought the both of you were on the same page.

The flirty looks during briefings, the waiting until it was just the two of you to have dinner or walk the grounds. The movie nights where he’d pick ones he knew only the two of you would like.

It must have just been one sided. No one feels the way you feel—felt, about him and just turns it off.

As the jet whirred into flight, you took a seat next to Bucky at the controls.

“Are you going to say anything? Or are we going to mime this whole mission.” You ask without looking at him.

He doesn’t say anything, or even look at you for that matter.

You scoff subtly, “I don’t know why I bother. I guess I’m just a glutton for punishment.”

Kicking up one leg, you keep it crooked up-right next to you, using it as a block between you and Bucky.

You’d finally landed after a painfully quiet 2 hour flight. You were securing your clips to your holster when you felt him behind you.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry.” Bucky said suddenly.

It was almost impossible to look at him without sarcasm. “Really? What exactly did you think was going to happen? A person can only take so much, James.”

You move to walk away, but he grips you shoulder gently, turning you to face him.

“I...I didn’t like seeing you like that.” He practically whispered.

You paused before hitting the button to let the ramp down. You wanted to say something snide, but you didn’t dare give him your energy.

“Let’s go. I wanna get this over with.” You mumble, finally hitting the button.

“Payload secured. Extracting now.” Bucky spoke into the coms.

With your gloves on, and rebreather secured to your face, you open the case Bruce had given you.

“Here, put it in.” You instructed.

This...plant? No. Flower, definitely a flower, was gorgeous. Bright red and purple ombré petals with a speckled green and yellow stem. The green leaves reaching off the stem faded to a black tip. It was stunning.

Bucky reached for the pot, that’s when you noticed the plant changing.

“Whoa, whoa. Did you see that?” You ask him.

The stem looked like it was pulsing. Golden buds began blooming within the petals.

“I don’t like this. I’m calling Bruce.” You said.

You tap your ear piece. “Dr. Banner, we’ve got some strange activity. The plant is...growing? It’s morphing and producing—“

“Get it in that case now!” He shouts, “It’s sensitive you temperature. The closer you get, the more it detects your body heat. If you’re not careful, it’ll pollinate.”

“Els...” Bucky called.

The flower was almost glowing. It’s was hypnotic, drawing you to it...the both of you.

“It’s...it’s beautiful.” You say mindlessly.

“Sergeant Barnes? Do you copy?” You hear Bruce say through the coms.

He doesn’t respond and neither do you.

“It smells like you. Like...summer rain, and strawberry shortcake.” Bucky says, walking closer to the flower.

The buds are growing. They look as though they’re about to burst.

He shakes his head, breaking the trance. “Shit.” Bucky grumbles putting the pot in the case, and slamming it shut.

You’re both breathing heavily. When did you get this close to each other? You’re close enough to see the beads of sweat on Bucky’s hairline.

“S-Sorry.” You whisper, looking down.

He tilts you chin up to look at him, “Don’t be.” He whispers in reply.

The realization of your closeness to him set in again, cause you to jump back suddenly.

“I’m gonna go...watch the controls.” You mumble.

When you sit in the seat, you finally feel it. Your elevated heart rate, the slick in your skin, and the undeniable ache between your thighs.

“What the hell?” You mutter to yourself.

“I’m glad you made it home in one piece.” Dr. Banner says as you approach the door to the compound.

Behind you, Bucky wheeled the cart with the case on top of it.

“It was definitely something. What does that thing do exactly? The packet on it was pretty vague.” You ask.

Bruce hesitated, “It’s just...it’s a...it’s hard to explain.”

You quickly whip off your rebreather, enjoying the fresh air. “Try me.”

“Look out!” Bucky shouts from behind you.

In a flash you see Bruce’s face go into pure panic. No one was quick enough. The case tumbles to the ground, smashing open and exposing the plant.

Both you and Bucky rush for it. In an instants the plant glows again, pulsing quicker then before.

“Ella, no!” Bruce shouts.

You hadn’t noticed, but Bucky’s mask was off too. Neither of you looked at anything but the flower. “It’s beautiful.” You said mindlessly.

Suddenly there was a burst from the middle of it. Golden flecks of pollen floated through the air like glitter.

“Whoa.” Bucky said breathlessly.

Looking to him, he was bathed in an ethereal haze. A visible aura and smell drawing you to him, you couldn’t have looked away if you tried.

And you didn’t care.

Bucky’s eyes suddenly locked with yours, and you knew he felt it too.

You moved towards each other, before you felt yourself getting yanked back.

“Tony, get him into quarantine now!” Bruce shouted as he tugged you with him.

“No! Stop it! Bucky!” You shouted. A conscious part of your mind was being dulled; why did you need to be near Bucky so badly?

“Stark, I’m warning you! Ella! Ella!” Bucky shouted as he was picked up by Tony, wearing his Iron Man suit for safety.

You were pulled in separate directions, and brought into the compound.

2 hours. 37 minutes. 46 seconds.

That’s how long it’d been since you’d seen Bucky.

You were currently on you bed, aching with a cold sweat. Your body was screaming at you, telling you to get out and go find him.

“What’s happening to me...” you groan into the space above you.

Between your thighs was throbbing, the heat emerging from your core was unrelenting. Your nipples were so hard, they felt like they could cut glass, and a glisten of lust on your skin couldn’t be ignored anymore.

Your own fingers did nothing to alleviate the ache. Attempting to pleasure yourself was in vain, because it wasn’t just any touch you needed. You felt like you would die—surely, you would die without his touch.

You needed Bucky, and you needed him now.

Stood from your bed, and practically running to the door, you relish in the friction it caused between your legs.

Pulling and twisting the knob in every direction does nothing. Of course it doesn’t...of course they’d locked you in here.

“FRIDAY?” You practically begged.

“Yes, Miss Monroe?” The AI replied instantly.

You cleared your throat, and pressed your sweat stained forehead agains the cool wood. “Please open my door.”

“I’ve been instructed not to let you out unless it was an emergency.”

“It is,” You say quickly. “it’s an emergency.”

She didn’t respond, the door simply clicked open. You yanked it back and revealed a sweat soaked Bucky on the other side; with bloodshot eyes, and his pupils blown out.

You’re sure your breathing mirrored his. Heavy and lengthy breathes passed your lips, chests heaving in time with one another.

Neither of you spoke as he took daunting steps forward, pushing you back into your bedroom.

In a flash, the door is slammed shut, and his hands find your hips. “Need you. Have to have you.” He groaned into the crook of your neck. “Had to smell you, touch you.”

Bucky hoists you up against the wall, and you’re seated perfectly on his thigh. “Please tell you want this—need this as badly as I do.”

The friction of his sweatpants clad thigh against your core makes you moan. “Yes, yes. Bucky...James, please.”

His lips are on yours before you can think.

Tongues take purchase of one another—it’s sloppy and rushed, and you don’t care.

You grind your heat onto his thigh, surely leaving wet patches—you’re dripping after all.

“That’s is sugar, get yourself off.” He practically growled.

“Bucky.” You moan. “More. Give me more.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. Your back hits you’re bed with a muted thud, and he in you again, stripping you of your bottoms. You help him, and tear your shirt from your body.

Bucky grips your ankle, and makes eye contact as he starts peppering kissed up your leg. Soft, wet kissed that felt like fire against your skin.

He suddenly hooks your legs with his arms and waits, looking at you for permission. “Can I taste you?”

You nod, swallowing thickly. Soon, Bucky’s tongue is lapping at your clit, sucking and soothing the swollen bud, eating you like it was the man’s last meal.

“James, oh my...don’t stop.” You moan, raking your fingers through his hair.

Bucky hold your hips down, and your orgasm hits you like a truck. Cumming all over his face, but he doesn’t stop, he works you through it until your shaking.

“You taste like heaven, but now I need to be inside you.” He kissed you again, and you taste your juices on his stubble.

With new confidence, you push him back on the bed, and climb on top, lining him up with your entrance. In a smooth stroke, his entire length is in you. You gasp at the stretch, not expecting it.

“Look at you, sugar. Taking my cock so well, that’s it baby,” he croons as you start to ride him. “Take every inch, all for you, doll.”

You grind onto his cock, finding the perfect angle to meet your most sensitive spot.

“Oh, James.” You moan, throwing your head back.

“So tight, perfect. Mine, all mine.” He grunts, sitting up to kiss your chest. He swirls his tongue around each nipple, driving you mad.

You feel that rubber band stretching in your core, and Bucky feels it too.

He picks up his pace, thrusting up into you harder and faster until your seeing stars. Bucky repeats your name like a prayer on his lips until he stills, spilling his warmth inside of you, biting down on your chest as he came.

With the last scrap of energy you had, you roll off of him. Neither of you speak for a few minutes, you simply let your breathing return to normal.

“So that’s what that plant does.” Bucky says jokingly.

You throw your hands over your eyes, “I can’t believe we just did that.”

The mattress dips as you feel Bucky turn to face you. “Don’t get all shy on me now, Els.”

You move your hands, but refuse to look at him. Vulnerable is the last thing you want to be in front of Bucky Barnes.

Bucky’s hand finds your cheek, “Hey, I’m serious, talk to me.”

The sigh that you release is one of nerve and exhaustion. “What’s there to talk about? How I was just fucked into oblivion by a guy that hates my guts? That the only reason we’re in this bed together is because of some toxic plant that messed with our brains? There you go, there’s your talk.”

“I don’t hate you.” He says on the heels of your speech.

You laugh, full on chuckle. “Okay, Barnes. I get it, hates a strong word and all that, but you definitely don’t like me.”

Bucky swung his legs over the side of the bed, “You’re right, I don’t like you. I’m pretty sure I fucking love you.”

He says it as causally and easily as anything. In fact, it comes out with such ease, you’re almost inclined to believe him.

“Right, that’s why you ignore me while we’re at the compound, or make pick on me for fun, and follow me around like a rookie in every mission we’re forced to do together.”

He stands and pulls up his shorts. “I follow you because the thought of you getting killed makes me sick to my fucking stomach. I call out mistakes because I want you to be aware of everything so that I don’t have to kill people for hurting you.”

You prop yourself up on the bed, and shield your exposed body with a sheet. Buckys hands wash over his face before landing on his hips.

“I avoid you while we’re here because if I didn’t, I’d want to spend ever second of every day with you. You’re all I fucking think about, and frankly, it’s driving me crazy.”

You smirk at his humor, he always could make you laugh.

“So what do we do now?” You ask, sitting up on your knees, and allowing the sheet to fall.

Bucky’s eyes roam your figure, and he swallows hard. “I’d like to erase all the hateful things I’ve ever said to you, but I can’t. I can only ask to get a new start, sugar. A chance—give me one chance.”

His hand find your hips, and you feel the goosebumps prickle your skin. “After all, I am the guy that just fucked you into oblivion, right?

You smirk, leaning forward to place a chaste kiss on his lips. His hand cups your cheek as you pull away.

“Can we watch those old movies like we used to? Just you and me?” You mumble, looking down.

Bucky laughs, and pulls you into his warm chest, kissing the crown of your head. “You got it, honey. Just you and me.”

taglist: @iheartsebastianstan @jjlizz @stuckysbabe @sk493494 @lefoutoir @nickangel13 @marvelismysafezone @lilulo-12 @warmvanillafeels @star-spangled-beard-burn @ravenesque @pinknerdpanda @wintersoldierissucharide @snapcapquartet @ellen-reincarnated1967 @unlistedpond @my-drowning-in-time @supernaturalwintersoldier @kimvmarvel @roseboho @winterboobear11 @choicesloversstuff @disaffectedbarnes @igothroughphasesalot @supernaturalwintersoldier @miss-assembled (strikethrough means the tag didn’t work! I’m sorry!)

#bucky barnes smut #bucky smut #bucky barnes x ofc #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes imagine

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nicriverswriting · 3 years ago

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Yesterday’s Gone (Oneshot)

Pairing: Kyojuro Rengoku x Hanako Fukushima [OC]

Words: 1,843

Warnings: angst, spoilers for the Mugen Train movie

Notes: Hello! This is my first oneshot I’m posting on here -- it’s based on lyrics from Yesterday’s Gone by Straight Line Stitch. Hanako is my Demon Slayer OC, and she means so much to me. This oneshot is also part of an upcoming book of oneshots about Hanako I have coming out called Beyond the Wisteria Trees. I hope you all enjoy! -

You lifted me up and fueled my dreams, now yesterday’s gone

The sign of Hanako’s beautiful, obsidian-colored crow flying to her usually meant information for another mission or a letter from a peer -- sometimes even Oyakata himself. Even though Arisu always closely followed Hanako, there were times when the crow would need to deliver and receive messages for the Flower Pillar. Though, the message that Arisu brought her on this particular blue-skied morning was nothing but devastating.

Hanako was at her mansion -- a large and beautiful home surrounded by several wisteria trees, with a variety of different flowers adorning the soft grass -- doing a bit of gardening. Kyojuro had told her before leaving to board Mugen Train that he would return here after the mission was finished. So, as long as there were no other missions or tasks to complete, Hanako was going to do just that -- wait for her love to return home, safe and sound in her arms.

A distant caw broke Hanako out of her thoughts about Kyojuro. She looked to the sky, seeing that Arisu was flying overhead, swooping down to greet her. A scroll of parchment was hanging from her beak, and Hanako knew this was one of two things -- it was time for another mission, or simply just a letter from a friend. She sighed, hoping it was the latter.

Arisu landed in front of where Hanako was kneeling on the ground over some sakura flowers. She looked at her crow, seeing that she had a sad look etched upon her little face. After years of being with her, Hanako could easily read her crow’s emotions. Instantly, Hanako felt a twinge of anxiety hit her gut.

Taking the note from Arisu, she unrolled it with nimble fingers. The message laid upon the parchment were the words that Hanako always feared she’d read one day.

Rengoku Kyojuro, the Flame Pillar, has died.

He was killed in battle against Upper Moon Three.

May his soul find peace in the afterlife.

Hanako had to read the note over several times to grasp exactly what she was reading. Kyojuro... dead? There was no way. Kyojuro was smart, he was strong -- but Upper Moon Three must have been stronger.

A sob escaped Hanako, the note dropping to the ground as she covered her face with shaking hands. Arisu, seeing her human friend in anguish, let out a soft coo, looking to the ground.

“It can’t be true,” Hanako sniffled out to no one in particular. “He can’t be gone.”

When I breathe I whisper your name in memory, ‘cause yesterday’s gone

She heard Arisu let out another coo before flapping her wings, setting off towards the sky. Hanako understood -- Arisu had orders and other things to do than sit there and watch her cry. Though, she wished more than ever that there was someone to console her. How would the other Pillars react? Would they feel the same? Or would they only think about it in passing, knowing that this was something they all had signed up for?

Tengen, Mitsuri and Shinobu were always so kind to Kyojuro -- she would see it when they shared meals together at the Corps Mansion. Even the normally quiet Giyu would crack a smile at his optimism every now and then. Hell, everyone loved Kyojuro. There was no way you couldn’t be drawn to someone that resembled sunshine.

Hanako guessed that she should’ve been thinking that way, too. That was their job as Demon Slayers -- protect those who can’t protect themselves, and die for the cause if necessary. She couldn’t remember exactly how many Demon Slayers (and Pillars in particular) had lost their lives since she joined the Corps.

Though, for whatever stupid reason she had created in her mind, Hanako never thought that Kyojuro would be one of those to join the number of people killed by demons. The thought only made her cry harder, the tears now coming in a never-ending stream. Tiny tears hit the soil below her, her once beautiful garden becoming melancholy.

With a sniffle and a hand wiping tears away, Hanako looked at the flowers surrounding her -- there were flame azaleas planted in large quantities around her mansion. Hanako kept a large stock of them growing because Kyojuro had told her that it was the flower he liked the best. She fondly remembered the memory of the first spring when she had grown them at her mansion.

It had been a few months after she was officially made a Pillar. Kyojuro was watching her plant flowers, helping out whenever she grew frustrated with something -- like he always did.

“Hanako, what are these?” Kyojuro asked, pointing to a bunch of flaming orange-yellow flowers. “And why do you have so many of them?”

She smiled at him, seeing that the ones he was pointing to were her favorites. “Those are flame azaleas. I like them because they remind me of you.”

He cracked a grin at her words, making Hanako’s heart flutter in happiness. “How so?”

“Well,” she moved over to where a flower had fallen from the stem, picking it up. “It reminds me…” Hanako padded over to where he was sitting. She held the flower up to the side of his face, tucking the short stem that held the petals behind his ear. “...of your hair.”

Kyojuro gently plucked the flower free, bringing it in front of his face and closely examining it. With his free hand, he grabbed a tuft of his bright red-and-yellow hair, bringing it next to the flower and comparing the two colors. Hanako giggled at the close proximity of the flower to Kyojuro’s face.

“And they’re bright and beautiful. So, I guess… they just make me think of you,” Hanako finished, voice soft and laced with shyness.

After a few seconds, he pulled the flower away, one his hugely adorable smiles painting his face. A barely noticeable blush had popped up onto his face, as well. “I think this one is my favorite, too.”

The memory of Kyojuro’s wide, toothy grin made more tears surface. After that day, he would always comment on the flame azaleas around her mansion when he visited. Hanako even brought him a bouquet of them once, making that same cute blush spread across his face as he accepted them.

But I know I can move on from that cold December rain

Another memory surfaced in Hanako’s mind as she finally got up, brushing away the dirt on her knees. Her hand immediately rested on her sword’s hilt, making her think back to tsuguko training.

Being his tsuguko, Kyojuro was the one who taught Hanako how to properly fight with her nichirin sword. If she was being honest, Hanako survived the Final Selection out of pure luck -- the trainer she had before Kyojuro did jackshit in training her how to defend herself. Though, she only had to kill two measly demons during her seven days on the mountain. Thank the gods.

Her tsuguko training with Kyojuro was progressing smoothly up until one day -- she was growing frustrated due to the fact that she couldn’t master a technique that he wanted her to get down.

“I can’t do this!” Hanako exclaimed, agitated beyond belief. The other breathing techniques that Kyojuro had taught her were easy enough, but for whatever reason, this particular one was a pain in the ass. Usually, she wouldn’t be so whiny about not getting a technique down perfectly the first time, but she wanted to impress Kyojuro.

He stood in front of Hanako with crossed arms, watching his tsuguko grow more and more frustrated. “What do you not understand? Let’s work through it together.”

Hanako looked up at him, and nearly choked, wishing she hadn’t -- he had shed his flame-decorated haori, leaving him in his Demon Slayer uniform. His strong, muscular arms could be seen through the greyish-black fabric. His bright hair was completely pulled back, leaving his sharp jawline open to Hanako’s wandering eyes.

Damn it. He’s too pretty for me to concentrate.

“I just don’t know why I can’t get this form right,” she explained, running a hand through her hair and looking away from him. I can’t be distracted by you, Kyojuro. “All of the other ones you’ve been teaching me have been simple enough.”

There was a pregnant silence. Hanako could hear the laughter of Gyomei and Sanemi in the background, the soft breeze blowing through wind chimes, and the rustle of the wisteria trees as she stared at the ground. Kyojuro had suggested he train her at the Demon Slayer Corp mansion, wanting her to become familiar with their way of life.

After what felt like an eternity -- but was probably only a few seconds -- Kyojuro let out a deep and hearty laugh. “But that’s the thing, Hanako…”

He began to move behind her, making Hanako wonder exactly what the hell he was doing. Though, when Kyojuro moved behind her, showing her the correct way to hold the nichirin sword, she thanked the gods and Buddha that she was in this moment.

His strong arms were holding hers, placing her hands in the correct position. She felt his chest at her back, his steady breaths tickling the top of her head. Kyojuro was wrapped around her in a hug -- except, they were training, not sharing a fond touch.

“You don’t have to get it right on the first try,” he finally finished, showing her the proper way to execute the technique she was trying to master.

“You’ll do great either way. You’ve already impressed me thus far. Just keep at it.”

Hanako knew, in this moment, that she truly loved Kyojuro. He was not just her savior and teacher anymore, no; he was her everything.

Regret filled Hanako at the memory, realizing that she had never properly expressed her feelings for him. Sure, they had discussed having a “talk” after he came back from his mission, but did he really know what she had meant?

Did Kyojuro know that Hanako loved him?

She was positive that everyone else already knew; with the way she looked at him like he was the best, most precious thing this world had to offer, she had been teased relentlessly by Shinobu and Tengen (making Hanako hastily hush them, saying “He might hear you!”).

Hanako glared at the ground, clenching her fists. Easy for you to say, Tengen. You have three wives.

Though, it made Hanako realize something; she could either live her life in regret, knowing that Kyojuro may have never felt the same way…

Or, she could continue to live out his legacy, and hunt down and kill Upper Moon Three. Upon thinking for a few minutes, she nodded to herself in conclusion. It’s what he would’ve wanted.

Wiping the remaining tears from her face, Hanako composed herself. She looked up to the azure sky.

I’m going to avenge you, my love. Even if it’s the last thing I’ll ever do.

Straight from my heart I wish you could see how I’ve changed

#demon slayer #oc x canon #kyojuro rengoku

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derireo · 4 years ago

Text

Let’s Talk Feelings (TSM)

A series where Izumi gets confessed to five times.

Tsumugi ↦ This Flower Means...

Tsumugi arranges a specially made bouquet just for Izumi.

Each flower holds a specific meaning, and Tsumugi hopes that he'll be able to convey his feelings to her through this.

warnings: pining. one sided attraction. second-hand embarrassment.

「 read here on ao3 」「 1.6k words 」 TK. IT. SK. OM.

Tsumugi didn't use words to confess to Izumi, no. He used a pretty bouquet of flowers, of course. As MANKAI's gardener, it wasn't surprising he'd use blossoms to share his affections with Izumi.

Quietly, he watches as Izumi sat down on the bench in the courtyard with a book in her hands, the autumn breeze filtering through her wavy hair.

It was a mesmerizing sight, in fact, so mesmerizing that it made Tsumugi pause his movements in rearranging the bouquet he was planning on giving her.

Autumn leaves fell from the trees in the courtyard, floating down until they reached their destination on the grass, or the tables, the bench. Even Izumi.

He saw as a leaf twirled in her lap, Izumi dog eared her book before putting it down so she could enjoy the cool weather. He watched as her lithe fingers took hold of the leaf by the stem, Tsumugi falling into a daze when the pads of her fingers traced over the veins of the little thing.

Oh, to be that leaf...

Tsumugi! Snap out of it. He told himself and pinched his wrist with an exasperated frown. Now was not the time to get distracted.

He had been planning on confessing to Izumi for a long while now after he had realized how sweet and charming of a woman she was. After spending a few years with MANKAI, Tsumugi couldn't see a future where he wasn't involved with the company, and there would just be thoughts of Izumi flooding his thoughts for what was to come.

He planned on staying with MANKAI for a long time as the Winter Troupe's leader... and then maybe even become a mentor. And Izumi would still be sticking around to be the director, letting new, fresh faces bloom under her care.

Goodness.. To share a similar future with her would be a dream come true.

And from what he could tell, Tasuku and Itaru showed a little bit of interest in Izumi as well, which rubbed him the wrong way. Tsumugi knew that he had to act quick if he wanted to get to her before the other two did.

He doted on the flowers he held in his hands again, gently brushing his fingers along the petals and putting a flower here and there to make sure it didn't look too messy.

There were three large flowers set in the centre of the bouquet, a white gardenia that symbolized secret love, a pink camellia for longing, and a hydrangea for feelings of sincerity.

Then on the outside, there were a few sprigs of yellow acacias, a flower that signified the true value of friendship. If she were to reject him.. the yellow acacias were there to tell her that he still held their friendship dear to his heart, and he wouldn't give it up for the world. A simple rejection would never break the bond they already formed together over the years.

His bouquet was a simple one, not too big, not too small; neither flashy nor boring. He was hoping to get his point across with the flowers and was excited to see how Izumi would react to them. Would she be shy as she accepted them? Maybe blush a little and tuck her hair behind her ear while bashfully avoiding his gaze?

Tsumugi couldn't wait any longer to find out.

He approached her with a slight hop to his step, eyes smiling with that gentle caress that made girls swoon. She noticed him right away from her periphery, his blue hair standing out from the autumn's red and brown hues.

"Hey, Tsumu." She greeted him casually and set her book under the bench by her feet to let him sit down beside her, the flowers bravely tucked in front of him for her own eyes to see. She eyed the blossoms curiously, dragging her hands through her hair to keep the wind from blowing it in her face when he joined her.

"Ah.. Hi, Izu." It took him half a second to decide whether or not he'd call her by a nickname, and his mouth did the opposite when he thought don't. Tsumugi inwardly punched himself for not using her full name and had to take in a deep breath to calm himself, fingers anxiously twitching around the flowers he held that Izumi was still looking at.

She smiled, feeling vaguely confused, and forced herself to tear her gaze away from the arrangement of floras he held between them.

"...What's up?" She trailed off, still unsure of what was going on. It looked like Tsumugi was trying to look for the right words to say, but he was taking an awfully long time. Izumi patiently folded her hands in her lap and crossed her ankles over the other, nodding her head in reassurance to encourage Tsumugi to say whatever was on his mind.

The poor man stammered.

He totally forgot that he was supposed to say something nice while handing her the flowers, but he didn't do any of those things.

Get it together, Tsumugi.

"Um. These are for you.." He murmured shyly, angling the bouquet towards her to give her the choice to either take the flowers from his hands or to simply reject them. His own smile was quiet bashful when she decided to take the arrangement of floras and held them close to her chest while she examined each blossom.

"These are pretty.. I was actually thinking of buying some flowers to decorate my room with, so thank you." Her response wasn't what Tsumugi was expecting, but it still made him happy. He brushed some imaginary dust off from his thighs with an earnest glint to his eyes, silently waiting for anything else Izumi wanted to say to him.

Except.. she didn't have anything else she thought she needed to say.

Not because she didn't appreciate Tsumugi's gift, but because...

...She never studied botany.

This devastating reminder hits Tsumugi straight in the face, and he physically reels back with shock at the revelation.

Oh my God.

She- of course she wouldn't know what meaning these flowers held. He never taught her the knowledge that his grandmother passed onto him and she wouldn't ever have the time to study flowers, plants, and agriculture all on her own. She was already overworked as it is.

Tsumugi was sweating at this point; not knowing what to do.

Should he explain to her what each flower meant or just stay silent and let his deep thinking and creative confession go to waste? Tsumugi decided to do neither, instead opting to open his mouth and point at the flowers with a shaky smile. "Why buy flowers when you've got me to help you out?" He jokes.

On the inside, he truly and very honestly just wanted to curl up and d-word.

"Oh, I know how much these flowers mean to you, I could never make you part with them every time I wanted to change things up." She laughed, fingers affectionate as they brushed along the petals of each flower he gave her, brown eyes warm and loving as she carefully changed her grip on the stems.

And my was she sweet.

"If it's for you, I'd do it in a heartbeat." He quickly answered. "You're our hardworking director after all."

Laughing along with her, Tsumugi ran a hand through his hair, pretending he was only fixing it because of the wind, but really, it was just because he was getting stressed.

He really couldn't believe that he forgot that Izumi had no knowledge on botany, and Tsumugi is once again reminded that maybe he should have just said something, given her a disclaimer or something to let Izumi know what was up and what he meant with his actions.

Sometimes giving flowers to someone didn't symbolize anything romantic. What if Izumi thought this was platonic of him... Oh dear, he'd be friendzoned.

Tsumugi was so stuck in his own little world inside of his head that Izumi eventually thought it was best to leave him alone. She wanted to thank him again, honest, but seeing that faraway look in his eyes, Izumi didn't have it in her heart to make him snap out of it so she opted to leave instead.

Picking up her book from the grass, Izumi stood from the bench with a soft smile directed at Tsumugi. After a few more seconds, she turned and left the courtyard to go back inside the dorms. She was excited to put these inside the empty vase that sat on her desk.

By the time she was nowhere to be found, Tsumugi had fallen out of his inner monologue to an empty spot beside him on the bench and no Izumi in his sights.

He pouted. He was bummed that she left so soon.

Leaning back against the bench with a sigh, Tsumugi slumped his shoulders while his head lolled back to stare up at the darkening sky.

And after a few more seconds, Tsumugi's head snapped back up as he jolted up from the bench.

His heart started to race.

He just remembered that he left a card attached to one of the stems, and it had all of the meanings of each flower written on it. Tsumugi didn't know if this was a good thing or a bad thing, but after she had so innocently thanked him as a friend and left him alone because he had so embarrassingly zoned out; he wasn't sure if he wanted Izumi to find out that he liked her. A lot.

Another stressed run through his hair and Tsumugi was already standing up to head towards Izumi's room.

He was not going to let her see that card.

Goddamn it, at this point he might as well just confess straight to her face. Well thought out plans be damned.

#a3!#a3! act! addict! actors!#tsumugi tsukioka #izumi tachibana #a3! fic #a3! scenarios #tsumuizu

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thetravelerwrites · 5 years ago

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The Purple Hoarder (Dragon)

Rating: General Relationship: Female Human/Female Dragon Additional Tags: Exophilia, Dragon, Japanese Dragon Content Warning: Disease, Illness Words: 3202

A 3000 word commission for @alittlespicygay, the first place reward for the 2000 follower giveaway! A village at the base of the mountain has been stricken with a mysterious disease, the only cure of which is an illusive flower known as the Dragon's Tear. Finding it was easy, actually obtaining it would be a bit more complicated... Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

To say that hiking in the nearby mountains is ill-advised was an understatement: most people who did so never came back. Only desperate people with a death wish were crazy enough to traverse the wilds of the forest, but you were plenty desperate.

A strange illness had overtaken your town, and you, as one of the last healthy people left, had been tasked with going into the mountains to find a rare flower called the Dragon’s Tear, which was supposedly the cure. The quest was made all the more difficult since you’d never actually seen one. In fact, no one had. There were drawings of it, but no one had seen the flower in over two hundred years.

Having packed and bid farewell to the few who could still stand to see you off, you started your long trek into the woods at the base of the mountain.

Two days had brought nothing but blisters on your feet and a sore back from sleeping on the ground. You really had no idea where to go, only a vague idea of what you were looking for. As you sat on the third morning, eating dried fruit for breakfast and staring at the peak of the mountain above you through the canopy of the trees, you suddenly had the intense feeling as though you were going to have to go up. Way up.

So you did. You had to find something that resembled a pathway, as most of the stones were jagged and broken, but after several hours of scrapes and scratches, grunting and heaving, you made it to a ledge to rest, gulping for breath.

As you sat there, trying not to die from lack of oxygen, you felt something brush softly against the back of your hand: a purple petal with black veins and a white base, fresh, perfect, and unwithered. You sat up suddenly, shock driving the exhaustion from your body. That was a Dragon’s Tear petal!

Where! Where had it come from? Scrambling up and grabbing your bag roughly, you tried to find the source of the petal.

After searching, you found a strangely hidden mouth of a cave, cleverly concealed behind a wall of jagged stone. If one was looking from any direction but down at it from above, they’d never have seen it. Petals were drifting out of the opening one or two at a time.

You made your way carefully inside, taking off your shoes so that you didn’t make any sound as your feet glided gently across the floor. It was dark in the cavern, naturally, but there were points of light through the rocks that gave you direction without having to light a torch.

Creeping slowly, you saw more petals peppered here and there on the ground, moving to and fro from the odd wind that permeated throughout the tunnelway. But the petals weren’t what you needed; while the petals had some components needed to treat the sick, the more potent medicine was in the stem of the flower. The petals of one flower might treat one person, but the stem could cure twenty.

As you slowly got closer into the cave, you heard a rumbling sound that continuously grew louder as you went farther in. You began to feel trepidatious, but you didn’t falter in your steps.

The tunnel of the cave opened up into a larger cavern. Light from a small hole in the center of the roof poured in, adding a small amount of light to the cave, just enough to see. You gasped. All around you, covering the floor, the walls, and the ceiling in the purple healing flowers, just growing from the stone. You could take as many as you wanted and cure an entire country. Once the village was healed, you could sell the rest and be rich beyond your dreams. Your mind reeled with possibilities.

As you reached down to pluck one up, you heard the rumble again. Looking up, you saw a dark purple mass, huge, black, and curled around itself, lying in the the middle of the sea of flowers. The way it was laying made it difficult to determine what manner of creature it was, but the way its body rose and fell with the rumbling said it was clearly asleep. Whatever it was, it was big enough to injure you should it wake, so you carefully backed away, bending to snatch a handful of the flowers.

As you did so, your canteen fell out of your bag, falling past the flowers and clattering loudly to the floor.

“Fuck!” You hissed, grabbing it up and pulling out a dagger, looking at the figure as it moved and stretched, shaking out its dark fur. It was long, from it’s neck to its body to its tail. Its limbs were relatively short, however. There were a pair of long horns on its head and it had whiskers that extended past its mouth and downward, like a mustache. It appeared to be a dragon of some kind, though it had no wings.

“Can I ask what you’re doing in my home?” The creature said in a distinctly feminine tone, blowing warm breath against you as she spoke. For having been woken by an intruder, she was awfully calm, though you assumed if you could eat your intruders, you wouldn’t be all that perturbed, either.

“I…” You gulped a little but raised the knife in your hand in a way you hoped was menacing. “I’ve come for the flowers. A sickness has taken the village at the base of the mountain. None have died yet, but hundreds are sick and not recovering. Please. I just need the flowers and I’ll never bother you again.”

She snorted out of her nostrils, and your hair was blown back by the wind. “You come in here, threaten me with a toothpick, and make demands? How bold of you.” She sat back on her short hind legs and crossed her front ones, like a disappointed aunt. “What will you offer me for the flowers?”

“Offer you?” You asked, confused.

“Well, yes,” She said impatiently. “You wouldn’t steal flowers from your neighbor’s garden, would you?”

“I would if it saved an entire village of people!” You retorted loudly.

She was unswayed. “What will you offer?”

You sighed sharply. “I don’t have any money,” You replied, holding out your hands helplessly.

She snorted again. “I’m not like my scaly cousins. Money doesn’t interest me. What else can you offer?”

“What do you want?” You asked.

She got back down on all fours and came closer. “Do you have a comb or a hairbrush?”

“What?” You said, feeling more confused that you thought possible.

“Well, look at the state of my fur!” She said, turning. Her fur was rather tangled and full of brambles and twigs. “I don’t have the dexterity to to get it out myself. Or a comb.”

“So you want me to groom you?” You asked skeptically.

“Yes,” She said. “You brush my fur, and I’ll let you have one flower.”

“One?!” You shouted. “It’ll take plenty more than that to cure the entire village!”

“Which is why you will return each day to brush my fur. Each day you come and attend to me, and each day, you’ll leave with one flower. When the town is cured, you won’t have to come anymore.”

“It took me three days to get here!”

“I will fly you down the mountain every evening and come back to pick you up every morning.”

“You can fly? How? You don’t have wings.”

You could almost hear her roll her eyes. “I’m magical, dear. So, do we have a deal?”

“Well, I don’t really have a choice, do I?” You grumbled.

“Oh, there’s always a choice,” She said. “Come along, now. It’ll be better in the sun, where you can see what you’re doing. It’s too dark in here.” As she brushed past you toward the exit, she added, “I’m Raun, by the way.”

You resisted the urge to snatch up a few of the flowers while she wasn’t looking and reluctantly followed her out of the cave, petals whispering against the ground as she moved through them.

Out in the sunlight, you could see that she wasn’t all black like she appeared inside: like the flower petals, her fur started black at the base but grew out into a purple hue. The slitted irises of her eyes were also purple, and the blackness of her horns had an iridescent purple sheen. She lay her long body down on the warm stone and looked at you expectantly. With a sigh, you retrieved a comb and hairbrush from your pack.

Thankfully, she was clean and smelled very nice. She said there was a private pool close by where she bathed regularly, and she attributed the pleasant scent of her fur to the flowers she slept in, which had a vaguely honeysuckle-elderflower smell.

The hardest part was removing each tiny bramble and twig individually before you could even start combing out the tangles. By the time you were halfway through plucking, the sun had begun to set.

“Ah,” She said, standing abruptly and dislodging you. She darted into the cave and returned with a single flower, stem included, and gave it to you. She then lowered her neck to the ground. “Time to get you home. Climb on. Hold my horns.”

Not at all trusting this situation, you carefully swung a leg over her and straddled her right behind her head. Wasting no time, she bound forward and took a dive off of the cliff. You screamed as she came up short of the ground and rose sharply, dancing like a ribbon in the wind as she flew, truly flew, over the canopy of trees back toward the village.

She stopped short of the town’s edge and landed gracefully, though you were still feeling sick.

“I’ll return here in the morning, just after dawn. I’ll have breakfast waiting,” She said. “Also, as part of the deal, you tell no one about me. I don’t need a legion of thieves showing up at my doorstep, if you please. Otherwise, I’ll destroy the flowers and move on.”

“I understand,” You said.

“Good.” Without another word, she leapt and took off back toward her cave. You watched in confusion and a little bit of awe.

You went back into the town and present the flower to the council, telling them you could only find one, but that you’d go back out the next day to look for more. They thanked you, immediately instructing the physician to begin the process of distilling a cure.

You didn’t sleep that night, feeling anxious about the next day. Raun had been rather approachable, friendly even, but she was still a dragon. The stories about them weren’t exactly encouraging, especially about what happens to the people who encounter them.

The next morning, you hiked out again into the woods. Raun was waiting for you there in the place she’d sat you down.

“Ready to go?” She asked, sounding chipper.

“I suppose,” You grumbled.

She cocked her head at you. “You look tired.”

“I didn’t sleep.”

“Goodness. Why not?”

“It doesn’t matter,” You said, sighing. “Let’s go.”

She shrugged and, after letting you climb on her back, she took off again.

As she landed and allowed you to slip down, you asked, “So, should we get started?”

“No, no! I said I’d have breakfast ready. Are you hungry?”

“It depends,” You said, eyeing her suspiciously. “It’s not raw meat or anything, is it?”

She snorted again. “No, don’t be silly. I’m a vegetarian.” She led you inside the cave, which you couldn’t help but notice had been spruced up a little. There were other flowers and things littered about. There were even two braziers lit, so that there was more light in the cave and you could see better. You imagined she had night vision and didn’t need the extra light, so she must have put them up just for you.

In the center, where she slept, there was a large array of fruit and vegetables laid out on some kind of fur, most likely bear, and flowers put all around the spread. It was actually… really pretty.

“Why…?” Was all you could manage to get out.

“I don’t have guests all that often,” She said, curling her body around the bear fur with breakfast on it and eating an entire watermelon. “I want you to feel welcome.”

“Oh,” You said, sitting cross-legged on the floor across from her. You picked up a pear, sniffed it, and ate it.

You ate your fill long before she did, and as you waited for her to finish, being full and warm started to make your eyelids droop and your head nod. You blinked, and when you opened your eyes again, you were laying against her fur with her head in your lap, her eyes closed.

“Um…” You reached out and tugged gently on her ear, which was goat-like, and her eyes popped open, her pupils blown wide like a cat in the dark.

“Ah, you’re awake,” She said, lifting her head off of you. “You fell asleep during breakfast. It’s almost lunchtime now.”

“Oh, god, I’m so sorry!” You said. “Please, I didn’t mean it, please don’t withhold the flower today! So many people are still sick!”

“I wasn’t going to,” She replied, taken aback. “I”m not heartless, dear.” She stood up and began walking toward the exit. “Would you like to come and help me pick lunch? I have a garden I’ve been tending in a lower part of the mountain.”

“Sure,” You said slowly and followed her outside.

Her “garden” was practically a farm in and of itself; there were rows of vegetables and trees, and fruit dangling from the vine. In addition, there were flowers everywhere. It was a paradise.

“This is beautiful,” You told her.

If a dragon could smile, she certainly was at the moment. “Thank you! It was years in the making.”

You helped her pick a bushel of various fruits and vegetables and had lunch in the middle of her garden. She then flipped on her back and allowed you to begin detangling the fur on her long belly like a placated housecat.

It went on this way for weeks: every morning you left with Raun to brush out her fur and spend a day talking and, over time, enjoying each other’s company, and every evening you returned to the village with a single Dragon’s Tear. Every day, twenty people were cured of the sickness, and life began to return to the town. You were hailed as a hero, though you felt a bit guilty that all you had done to earn the flower was lounge around with a fluffy dragon in a garden.

Six weeks on, you were sitting against her with her tail in your lap, brushing out the fur. Since you had started, her fur had gone from a tangled, brambles mess to sleek, shiny, and gorgeous. You were almost a little jealous.

“There’s only twenty-three people still sick in the village,” You mentioned casually. “You’ll be free of me the day after tomorrow.”

Raun was silent and still, perhaps sleeping. She often did fall asleep when you were brushing. After a few minutes, though, you heard her ask, “Will you visit me?”

“If you like,” You said. “I know I must be a thorn in your side, coming up here and demanding things from you. I’ll be out of your hair soon.” You laughed. “So to speak.”

Raun did not laugh. In fact, she was rather quiet from then on.

The day came when you received the last flower, and she let you down in the same glade as always.

“Well,” She said, sitting down so that she was eye level with you. “I’m glad your people are well. This will be goodbye, then?”

“I’m afraid so,” You told her, patting her nose. “I’m sure you’ll be glad without me underfoot.”

“Take care of yourself,” Raun said. “This village is lucky to have someone like you.”

Before you could reply, she turned and ran off, shooting up out of the canopy and away to her home.

The last few people were cured, and the village held a celebration in your honor. The attention made you extremely uncomfortable, and everything reminded you of Raun. The wine was made with elderflower, there was a watermelon carved in the shape of a dragon, there was a spread of food on a bear skin. This feast should include Raun. She was as much responsible for this as you were.

A week passed, and you dreamed of Raun every night. Some dreams were good, some weren’t. No matter how hard you tried, you simply couldn’t put her out of your mind.

Will you visit me?

Well… why not? She didn’t kill you the last time you showed up unannounced, and you imagined her fur must be rather tangled by now. You bounced out of your bed in the early morning hours while the village was still quiet, gathered your things, including a giant, brand new horse brush you’d bought for no reason you could think of, and began your trek up the mountain.

It took less time, since you knew where you were going, but it was still the better part of the day to get there. By the time you’d made it to the well hidden entryway, dusk was falling. Inside, you heard a low moaning, like wind through a tunnel. Curious, you went inside.

It was dark, but there was still enough light that you could see Raun inside, sitting with her front legs tucked in, her head bowed, and bright tears dripping down her face and onto the stone. As it hit, a brand new Dragon’s Tear flower bloom instantly from where her tear fell, fully formed and glowing.

It was then you realized as you looked at the flowers all over the floor, the walls, the ceiling. Each one was a tear, a real tear. How many had she cried? How long? It had to have been before you came because there were already so many then, but now, every inch was covered in the flowers. She must have been crying for days.

“Raun!” You exclaimed, running forward and throwing your arms around her neck. “What’s wrong, are you alright?”

She gasped and put her large paws around you. “You came back! I didn’t think you would!”

“Why didn’t you tell me you wanted me to come back?” You asked her, pulling her forward by her whiskers.

“I did!” She said, sniffling, another tear leaking out. It landed on the hem of your skirt, and a flower popped up there. “But I didn’t think you wanted to.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” You said. “I haven’t stopped thinking of you. I should have come back sooner.” You kissed her snout repeatedly. “I brought brushes,” You said, a tear or two in your own eyes. “Could you use some grooming?”

“Always,” She laughed back, nuzzling your neck. “But can we have dinner first?”

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My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

#Exophilia #Dragon #Japanese Dragon #Fluffy #Alittlespicygay #Commission

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bangtan-gal · 5 years ago

Text

Kingdom of the Skies

Nakamoto Yuta x Fem!Reader prince!yuta magic!au fairytale!au word count: 2k warnings: swearing, minor angst

Masterlist | Foxtales

Sunlight poured over the small meadow you sat in. The breeze brushed the long grass back and forth and had your hair fluttering gently around your face. Birds sang from the trees overhead and you hummed along with them as you dug up small piles of dirt. Your bare toes wriggled against the warm ground and the hem of your dress was browned from the dirt.

You took your time as you planted the different flower seeds in each dip in the ground. The birds’ songs grew louder as you covered the seeds back up with dirt. Your humming joined the louder decimal level and the ground started to vibrate. Closed petals ripped through the ground, black stems and leaves following after it. An array of blue, purple, white, and yellow flowers unfurled. There was a loud fluttering of wings as the birds took off, their songs turning to shrieks as they twirled through the air and away.

“Y/N!”

You tore your gaze away from the quickly disappearing dark mass. Kido waved at you from the creek, a wide smile on his face. His blue hair fell in front of his eyes and he shook it out of his face. You chuckled, waving back.

“How are you?” You called, sitting up on your knees. He shrugged.

“Got visited by the Queen,” he said, the humility on his face was replaced by a proud smirk. Your stomach jolted, but either way you forced a happy smile onto your face.

“Well good for you,” you commented. Kido nodded and didn’t elaborate on what happened. His head whipped around and he shouted a valediction before disappearing into the water. You placed a hand over your heart, lips pursing at the feel of it beating angrily against its constraints. “I’m okay.”

You glanced down at the flowers and sighed.

“We’re okay.”

The day went on and you went back to your gardening. The sun traveled lazily over the blue sky and the breeze started to grow colder. The birds started to collect again, beady eyes watching as you once more pulled the leather pouch from under the layers of your dress. It felt as if the animals were scolding you for your forbidden acts.

“Aren’t you cold?”

You jumped, nearly spilling the seeds on the ground. A boy stood merely few feet away from you, a piece of straw hanging from between is teeth and an arrogant eyebrow raised as he watched you. His hair was red and long enough to be tied into a tiny ponytail. You hid the pouch of seeds and pursed your lips.

“No.”

He scoffed, walking closer to you until he crouched down beside you. His knees brushed against your arm. There was no interest in you as his eyes wandered along the flowers that you’d planted. The majority of them were just sprouts or basic flowers, but a few were starting to glow in the dusk. He flicked one that was glowing a rose-gold color, dark eyes narrowing on it.

“Fairy lantern?” He asked, gaze finally moving back to you. You raised your eyebrows, staring at the flower that his gloved fingers hovered inches away from. Most people didn’t know what fairy lanterns were and just thought of glowing flowers as an anomaly.

“Uhm, yes,” you replied, “although I wouldn’t suggest touching it…”

He wiggled his fingers in front of you.

“No skin.”

He fell onto his butt beside you, crossing his legs in front of him. You kept blinking, trying to figure out exactly what was going on. Who was this boy? How did he find you? And why didn’t he seem too concerned about the fact that you were planting forbidden magic flowers?

“Who are you exactly?” You queried, voice growing soft.

He blew his bangs out of his eyes.

“Yuta. Nakamoto Yuta,” he introduced, holding out the same gloved hand that had touched the flower. You recoiled, clearing your throat and wiping your hands on his dress. He pulled back and struggled to get his glove off and once more held out his hand. “Sorry, forgot about how the petal poison sticks to everything.”

You shook his hand, your hand slowly grasping his. Yuta’s hand was warm and rough and you could feel hundreds of tiny scars beneath your palm. Your hands parted and you cleared your throat once more, averting your gaze.

“Why are you planting these?” This is it: here comes the final blow. “I mean… it’s not even about you getting in trouble, you could die.”

He said the last part in a whisper, like that was the secret.

That was what made you genuinely smile.

“You know there’s an antidote, right?” You murmured, pointing to the hundreds of red roots that roved through the dirt around you. “Blood trees. Can cure anything.”

Yuta stared at you. “Any… thing?”

You nodded.

Something sad and distant invaded his eyes.

“Can I take some?”

“It’s not mine to keep,” you mentioned. He dipped his head in thanks, took some, and was on his way.

⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘

You didn’t expect to see Yuta again. Truthfully, you wanted to see him again. No other person had showed such an interest in flowers and you were certain that everyone was too scared of the Queen to go against her ban on magic. Yuta hadn’t cared about how the flowers were banned, he only cared about your safety. That was what pulled at your heart.

You were silent as you scooped up a bucket up water from the creek. The water was freezing and your whole body was already starting to shudder from the temperature. You stepped back onto the banks, wringing the water out from the edge of your dress. Then you picked your bucket back up again, making your way towards the flowers.

“Hi.”

You jumped, spilling water everywhere. The red-head stepped out of the splash zone gracefully, smiling and blissfully unaware of the extra work he just granted you. He looked even prettier in the sunlight. His hair was brighter and his dark eyes sparkled. The sunlight bounced off his skin and you could’ve sworn he was glowing.

“Er, hi,” you mumbled, still clutching tightly to the bucket. “You’re back.”

“Well I figured it would be rude to just barge in here, take stuff, and not come back to properly say thanks,” he huffed. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a light purple pouch. “I got you this as a thank you.”

You accepted it wearily. It was light and as you wriggled it testily in your fingers, you could definitely feel seeds in it. The pouch opened with ease and the smell of fresh flowers burst from it. You picked out a seed; it was purple with deep blue lines.

“Diana’s Crown… but these are so expensive and there’s a least thirty in he—”

You cut yourself off and your gaze snapped to his. That was where you recognized Nakamoto from. He needed the blood trees to cure something… something incurable.

“You’re the Prince.”

Yuta nodded, his teeth digging into his bottom lip.

“Yes, that’s me,” he murmured. His eyes searched yours. Then he sighed. “I don’t agree with what my mother is doing at all… I mean, she’s not even my mom. I asked for the blood tree in hopes that my father would heal and be able to stop her. Banning magic completely isn’t helping the kingdom at all. Forests and crops are dying because we haven’t seen fairies in years.”

His gaze shifted to the fairy lanterns littering the ground.

“If fairies come back, the kingdom won’t die.”

Yuta’s hand seized yours and he pulled you close. He scent was amazing and intoxicating. His lips hovered inches from yours. You stared back at him, eyes wide. The intention in his eyes was clear: he didn’t want to kiss you, he wanted your help.

“What if the King sides with the Queen?” You asked.

Yuta dropped his head.

“Then I guess I’ll be forced to take the throne.” He didn’t sound excited or proud of the idea. You could imagine the millions of times he’d ran the scenario through his head. Yuta was just like you: someone born into a birth claim they didn’t want and now they were running. His breath shook as he straightened up and took both your hands.

“But for right now, I need you to leave the clearing. If you get caught growing these… I don’t want to imagine what would happen to you,” he begged softly.

“I can’t just le—”

His expression struck you. Yuta was genuinely scared and concerned for you. He was fighting for something you’d wished for for so long. You nodded slowly, squeezing his hands to let him know you would take it seriously. His smile was what made it truly worth it.

Yuta moved you into a hut that sat on the outside of the town. A blind, old lady who had a tendency to talk your ears off lived there. The Prince checked in on you every day, always carrying small gifts and tiny smiles with him. Weeks passed and news started to pick up. The King was back on his feet and now the people are waiting to see what his verdict is on the new ruling of the Queen. The old lady, Vietha, was worried, claiming that since it was magic that made him sick, he would keep magic banned. Others said that he had a much too kind heart to be as cold as his wife. You weren’t given an answer until Yuta himself stumbled into the hut one night, eyes dilated, wreaking of alcohol, and an angry grimace on his face.

“He’s not going to fucking do anything about it,” he snapped. The two of you sat on the rickety old fence behind the dusty hut. The wind had you swaying back and forth and the sky was still pink from the sun that had set hours ago. “He knows it’s wrong! He knows that it’s oppressing hundreds of people and he doesn’t care because it ‘nearly killed him!’ Bah! I wish it did so I could have kicked that witch off the throne and taken charge…”

Then he shook his head.

“I don’t want to rule.”

You rubbed his shoulder.

“I’m sure we can figure something out,” you mumbled. He stared at you and the drunken look in his eyes scared you. You dug into the pockets of your dress, pulling out some of the blood tree. “Chew this.”

Yuta didn’t question you as he took the small red vine from your hand and bitterly chewed on it. He swallowed the juice wearily, eyes focused on the horizon.

“Already feel better,” he sighed, tipping his head back. You smiled, letting your head fall back so you could stare at the same sky. Yuta was subtle as his fingers carefully draped themselves over yours until your hands intertwined. You hopped off the fence, hand still clinging to his. You pulled him along.

“Come on, I want to show you something.”

He didn’t ask any questions as you led him down the trail in the forest. Nature chirped and moved around you as you walked along. Eventually the trees spread apart and you stood in the same clearing that you met. In the dark night, the flowers grew brighter than ever. You pressed a finger to your lips and then pointed. Around the flowers, several tiny specks fluttered in the dark. Green, yellow, and pink wings beat against the air.

“Fairies,” he whispered in mesmerization. “They’re here.”

You nodded with a smile.

“And the flowers can’t be destroyed,” you hummed, “the seeds of Diana’s Crown has some sort of liquid in it that puts a protective layer on anything it touches. Nothing can kill those flowers, not even magic itself.”

“No way,” he mumbled, glancing back at the flowers.

You rolled your eyes. “You’ve had one of the most powerful substances in reach your whole life and you didn’t even know. Flowers must really only be for people who aren’t total dumbasses.”

Yuta stared at you.

You stared back.

He kissed you quickly and pulled back with a smile.

“This is the world I’ve longed for,” he murmured. You shook your head, pressing your forehead to his.

“It’s what we’ve longed for.”

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