#stone hot tub frame

[teamodiyemeyenkiz]

Hot Tub Pool San Francisco Mid-sized transitional backyard custom-shaped and tile hot tub photo

[shunkoku]

Hot Tub - Craftsman Pool Mid-sized craftsman backyard hot tub design featuring kidney-shaped stones.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A Barter 5

Warnings: dubious and nonconsent, foreplay, I am a dark blog and I write dark things.

Summary: You are bargained to be wife to the witcher if he can slew the beast in the village.

Character: Geralt of Rivia

**note, I am not a Witcher genius or aficionado and so I may get some things wrong.

As usual, I appreciate any and all feedback and enthusiasm. Please reblog and leave a comment. Love! 😍

You bring the cloth to the witcher’s cheek. You wipe gently as you feel his bold eyes on you. You meet them and flinch. You’ve never seen irises like that and his expression is forged in stone. Unbreakable. He doesn’t appear very pleased to have his prize. 

You say your name. His brow tweaks. You swallow and put your focus back to the cut. You wipe it clean as he puffs through his nose. 

“Geralt,” he returns. “You will call me only husband.” 

“Yes, husband,” your voice rises as a wisp. 

He surprises you as he grabs your waist suddenly. You recoil, your hands furled as you hold them loft. He spins you and grips the plain wool at the nape of your neck. He rents it so the laces snap and the dress slackens. You squeak as he pushes the fabric past your shoulders. 

As your dress heaps around your clogs, you shiver beneath the thin sheath of your shift. He stands and clamps your shoulders in his large hands. He guides you from behind and stop you before the tup.  

You stare at the water and shudder. After the day’s ride, its heat is tempting but the presence of this man, a husband you do not know, has you wary. He moves behind you, grunting as he leans on a bed post and rips off one boot then the other. 

He continues to undress around you as you wait for him to direct you. You close your eyes as his last layer falls away. He steps up behind you, nearly flush with you as his thick fingertips brush down your sides. He clutches the side of your shift and raises it up little by little; past your knees, then thighs, then pelvis, up your stomach to your chest. You raise your arms to let him strip it away. 

Naked, quivering, scared, you stand trapped between him and the tub. He pets your head, spreading his long fingers round it as he smooths your hair beneath roughened palms. He angles to drag his knuckles down the back of your neck and traces the length of your spine. He trails from your tailbone to your hips and urges you forward. 

You step into the tub as he acts as your balance. He follows you in, one foot then the other, as you wade through the steaming depth. He turns and lowers himself carefully, drawing you down with him. He sits you between his legs, bending them around you as you brace your knees to keep from crumbling.  

He pulls you to lean against him and sighs. Every bit of fatigue and frustration unwinds in that breath. You stay rigid as you feel all of him. He guides your head to rest on his chest then stretches his burly arms over the brim of the tub.  

You stare at the crux of ceiling and wall, frozen despite the heat roiling over you. You feel him twitch beneath the water. Against you. He is turgid and wanting and you can only wait until he takes what he desires. Until he seals your marriage in that final act of dominance. 

You linger like that for a time. His chest rises and falls. You let the rhythm calm you so much as it can. He groans as he sinks into the soak. 

You wince as he curls and arm forward, his hand dipping beneath the surface. He tickles along your stomach, up over the cushiony flesh and along your sternum. He circles your tits with his thick digit then centers on your nipple. He pinches the beaded bud and swirls his thumb around it. A tingle rolls over you. 

You tense and whimper in fear. You’re not ignorant to what husband and wife do but the gossip of the village women bodes of pain and woe. He hushes you as his other hand crawls over your shoulder and up your throat. He frames your jaw and lifts your head. He nuzzles your crown and plumes hot breath over your scalp. 

His other hand descends and he pokes along your thighs. He grunts and you suck in a sharp gasp. You shake and pry your legs apart. His large body cradles yours as his touch slips along your pelvis and his fingers glide over your cunt. 

He pushes his finger between your folds and pushes on your tender pearl. You squeak at the sensation that blooms inside of you. Unthinking, you latch onto his wrist and moan. 

He tuts and lifts his chin to rest on your head. 

“Be a good wife,” he bids as he rolls his finger, the tendrils creeping up your thighs and stomach with each flick. “Shh, shh, shhh.” 

You close your eyes and melt into him as your chest hammers. He drops his other hand to grope your chest again, as if to feel the tempo of fear and furor growing within. He growls as he plays with you, squeezing your bosom as his finger dances on your clit.  

You clasp onto his knees to keep from slipping down and whine. You might try to enjoy what you may before that last wall is stormed. One last delight before a life of duty begins. 

[kamykan]

☆ Stay with me — Daenerys Targaryen x Reader 🐉 ⋆｡°✩

Daenerys Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Request: No

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 1103

Summary: You are Daenerys’ closest handmaiden and you help her prepare for bed

. ⊹ ₊ ݁. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

The doors to the queen’s bedchamber are heavy beneath your hands, the carved wood cool under your fingertips as you push them open. The room is dimly lit, the golden glow of scattered candles casting soft shadows along the stone walls. A warm breeze from the open balcony stirs the sheer curtains framing her bed, the scent of burning incense and jasmine lingering in the air.

Daenerys stands near the balcony that looks over the city, her back to you, her silver hair cascading down her back like silk. The tension in her shoulders is visible even from across the room, her posture poised but weary. You swallow, stepping forward before dropping into a low curtsy.

“Khaleesi, shall I help you prepare for bed?”

She doesn’t answer immediately, only tilts her head slightly in your direction. Then, finally, she exhales.

“Yes, please.”

You move with practiced ease, already knowing her preferences. First, you light a brazier to heat her bathwater, ensuring it's scorching hot just as she likes it. Next, you add the fragrant oils, selecting the subtle lavender ones she favors, the ones that don’t overwhelm her sensitive senses. When you turn back to her, she has already begun to undo the clasps of her gown, the fine fabric slipping off her shoulders. Without thinking, you step forward to help, your fingers brushing against her bare skin as you ease the garment down the curve of her spine. She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t tense—if anything, she leans into your touch, trusting, unguarded.

Daenerys has always trusted you with her comfort. You were gifted to her during her wedding to Khal Drogo, one of her handmaidens alongside Irri, Jhiqui, and Doreah, and you chose to remain by her side after the Khal's death. Irri taught her to ride horses, Jhiqui taught her the Dothraki tongue, and you were there to dress her, tend to her needs, and care for her through every struggle.

You've seen her at her highest and her lowest. Though she's close to all her handmaidens, you've always been different.

When Daenerys struggled to adapt to Dothraki life as a new Khaleesi, you stayed up with her through long nights, soothing her wounds and offering comfort. Once things had settled down after Daenerys took Meereen, she would send away Irri and Jhiqui, leaving only you to perform your handmaiden duties. Sometimes, she would call for you and have you do nothing but sit with her and talk about her day. She would rest her head in your lap, and you would run your fingers through her hair.

Your hands tremble slightly as you take the last of her clothing, folding it neatly before guiding her into the bath. The water ripples as she sinks into it with a sigh, her head tilting back against the smooth stone. You kneel beside the tub, dipping a cloth into the warm water before running it gently over her shoulders.

She closes her eyes. “It has been a long day.”

You hesitate before speaking. “Are things difficult with the council?”

A quiet laugh escapes her, breathy and tired. “Always, you know how men are. Because I am a woman they want to control the amount of power I have.”

You continue your work in silence, trailing the cloth down her arms, over the delicate curve of her collarbone. Her skin is warm beneath your hands, softened by the water. When you reach for the vial of scented oil, her eyes flutter open, watching as you smooth it along her chest, fingertips pressing gently into the knots of tension there.

“You are kind to me,” she murmurs, voice barely above a whisper. She reaches out and runs her fingers over your knuckles “Always so gentle.”

Your breath catches, but you do not falter. “It is my duty, Khaleesi.”

Her lips curve as she stares at you, but there is something unreadable in her gaze. She gave you that expression a lot these days. “Is it only duty?”

You have no answer for that.

When her bath is finished, you help her out of the water, wrapping her in a soft linen towel before guiding her to the vanity. She sits, allowing you to take the brush and work through the damp tangles of her hair. The rhythmic strokes are soothing, and she relaxes beneath your touch, the tension from earlier melting away.

For a long while, there is only the sound of the brush moving through her hair and the occasional crackle of the fire in the hearth. But then—

“Stay with me tonight?.”

Your fingers still, breath hitching in your throat. You meet her gaze in the mirror, expecting amusement, a test, but there is none of that. Just quiet longing, an unspoken plea.

“Khaleesi—”

“Daenerys,” she corrects softly. “You don’t need to refer to me by my title while we are alone”. 

She gently places a hand on your cheek "I have more enemies than I can count. I want to keep you safe—you, Irri, Jhiqui, Missandei, but you most of all. And yet..." She pauses, her expression tightening with conflict. "I know if I took you as mine, you'd never be safe. There's no way to hide it, no way to shield you from their knives or their whispers. But I can't help it—I know it’s selfish but I cannot help it, I want you to be mine anyway." She quiets again before continuing “I don’t want to be your queen tonight. I want you to treat me as a normal woman would treat her normal lover”

Your hands tremble against her hair. “If anyone were to see—”

She turns in her seat then, looking up at you with something achingly vulnerable in her expression. “No one will. And if they do, let them.”

After a brief moment of silence, the fragile walls between you shatter.

You don’t resist as she reaches for your hand, guiding you toward the bed, her fingers laced with yours. The silk sheets are cool beneath your touch as she pulls you down beside her, close enough that you can feel the steady rise and fall of her breath.

She says nothing else, only shifts closer, pressing her forehead against your shoulder.

You hesitate for only a moment before wrapping your arms around her and pressing a kiss against her forehead, holding her the way you have always wanted to but never dared.

Tomorrow, she will be your queen again. She will sit upon her throne, unyielding and fierce, the breaker of chains, the mother of dragons.

But tonight—tonight, she is simply Daenerys.

And tonight, you are hers.

. ⊹ ₊ ݁. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

An: Post! Post! Post! Don't be afraid to send request!

[the-fiction-witch]

As Do I P2

Media - EPIC The Musical Saga Character - Prince Telemachus Of Ithaca Couple - Telemachus X Reader Reader - Princess Y/n of Zakynthos (Unseen) Rating - 17 (Nudity / Mentions of Abuse / Physical Violence) Word Count - 1103

Requested -

dorkyfangirl24 - Omg this is amazing!! Please tell me there will be a part 2?!!! procrastination20 - pt 2 soff-12 - omgg i love it, i need more

Antinous & Telemachus Art by Duvet Box

Telemachus could barely contain his restlessness, every hour that crept by felt like an eternity, each moment amplifying the ache in his heart. Every fibre of his being ached for her presence, his arms physically hurt with the desire to hold her close, to feel the warmth of her body against him.

He had never anticipated being so utterly captivated, especially not so quickly. It was as if his heart had recognised her, a magnetic pull that transcended mere attraction. He truly felt as if he had encountered his other half, the missing piece that the gods had severed from him long ago. Cradling her in his arms was not just comforting, but made him feel truly whole in a way he never had before.

He wanted to be his absolute best for her tonight, so he went down to the palace baths and steeped himself in the hottest tub like a Telemachus teabag. Sinking into the hot water until only his nose and eyes poked out the top of the water. Every so often blowing soft little bubbles into the water.

Suddenly the door opened and three of the suitors made their way inside, laughing and joking as they went.

Telemachus moved himself into the corner trying to avoid being noticed by them, but it was too late.

“Looks like the little wolf is down here for a bath.” Antinous smirked, as he climbed into the bath his body fully exposed as he dipped into the water taking a seat against the stone with his arms relaxed behind him, “Get sick of licking your balls?”

Telemachus bit down hard on his tongue, determined not to give them the satisfaction of knowing he was affected. He pressed his back against the cool, rough surface of the wall, as he tried to make himself as small as possible. The contrast of his small, slender frame against the imposing muscularity of the three suitors before him heightened his self-consciousness; their broad shoulders and chiselled arms loomed large and intimidating. Shadows danced across their skin in the dim light, emphasizing every muscle and leaving Telemachus feeling even more fragile and exposed. Each taunt and laugh that echoed in the air felt like a weight pressing down on him, and he fought the urge to shrink further into himself, wishing for invisibility at that moment.

The two suitors settled down on either side of Antinous in the bath with an air of arrogance. This left Telemachus feeling trapped and unable to escape their presence, as they effectively cornered him unable to get out without revealing himself to them. Among them was Lord Vasso, a tall man with piercing eyes who seemed to watch Telemachus carefully. The other, less familiar to Telemachus, was Prince Makis of Zakynthos, brother to Y/n. Makis carried himself with a swagger, as he slipped down into the water. All three men were confident and unashamed of their bodies not even bothering to conceal themselves in front of the prince. Telemachus knew it was to somewhat intimidate him and unfortunately, it was working.

“So? Enlighten us?” Antinous laughed, “Your mommy sick of bathing you?”

“I bathe myself. Have done for years.” Telemachus snapped back in defence, “I suppose you burden your mother with such duties.”

“I’ll burden your mother with them,” he growled,

“Don’t talk about my mother,” Telemachus muttered,

“Ohh what?” Vasso laughed,

“Do not talk about my mother like that.” he barked,

“Lighten up, One of us will be your stepdad. Don’t you want to be on our good side so we don’t toss you off the palace roof?” Makis smirked,

“My father will return.” Telemachus snapped, “None of you will ever so much as touch my mother, let alone become my stepfather.”

“It’s been twenty years, little wolf.” Antinous laughed, “Grow up. Come out of your mother’s skirts.”

“Don’t speak about my mother like that!” Telemachus shouted,

Without another word, Vasso and Makis swiftly approached Telemachus, their grips firm as they seized him by the arms. With a sudden tug, they forced him to his feet. Telemachus winced as they bent his arms backwards, pushing him to the edge of his limits.

“Ahh-” He cursed,

Antinous stood and leant into his face, “We’ll talk however we damn want. You’re father ain’t coming back little wolf. You’re mother’s time is running out for her to make a damn decision. And if she doesn’t make it herself. I will break her door down, and do as I wish.”

“You dare touch her-”

“Or what? Go on little wolf, what will you do?”

Telemachus squirmed trying to escape their grip but it was far too tight to move,

“No? Nothing to say? I didn’t think so.” he smirked, “Your daddy isn’t coming back little wolf, he’s off fucking every slut in Greece or rotting at the bottom of the sea. Your mother will have one of us, we’ll make sure of it.”

Vasso and Makis exchanged a reluctant glance before releasing their grip, allowing Telemachus to slide down against the weathered stone, his shoulders heaving with exhaustion. Vasso and Makis climbed out, water dripping from their skin, their laughter mingling. Telemachus remained still for a moment, letting the air fill his lungs, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the rough stone.

“You know, you should think yourself lucky you're a little prince. And not a little princess.” Vasso growled,

“Yeah, if you were a little princess, I’d have had you on the palace floor a hundred times by now,” Makis smirked,

“How about I have your sister!” Telemachus yelled,

Makis froze up,

Antinous and Vasso laughed,

Makis turned slowly, “What did you say?”

“I said, How about I have your sister on the palace floor.” Telemachus growled, “How about instead of you worrying so much about becoming my stepfather, Maybe you should worry a little more about me becoming your brother-in-law.”

“If. I. See. You. So. Much. As. Look. At. My. Sister.” Makis stalked over, “I will break every single bone in your body.” He spat in Telemachus’ face, “We clear.”

“Yes.” Telemachus nodded,

“Good.” Makis nodded before he turned away and headed out with Vasso and Antinous.

Telemachus carefully climbed out of the water. He winced slightly, rubbing his aching arm. With a determined sigh, he made his way up to his room, glancing out the window at the vibrant hues of the setting sun. The thought of meeting Y/n in the gardens tonight filled him with a mix of anticipation and nervous energy. After a quick change into fresh clothes, he took a moment to compose himself, wanting to look his best for their meeting beneath the twinkling stars.

[mrsoharaa]

˚₊ ‧ ꒰ა🤍 ໒꒱ ‧ ₊˚

Satoru has no concept of personal space or boundaries, so when he senses you taking a long, dark, candle lit bubble bath in his master bathroom, alone...best believe that man is thrashing through the door like a shameless, needy buffoon that he is.

The slick coat that covered your pretty skin, the flickering small light of the cackling flames from the candles peppering your soaked flesh with such beautiful colored hues complimenting your complexion almost rakes out every heavy breath panting from the gawking, white haired mans lungs. Completely sets down the bag of goodies he had stopped to get for you (since he knew you were on your period, he actually took the time after training his students to pick you up some supplies and your favorite snacks) onto the sink next to him.

His heart races fervently against his hefty chest, blinded sight practically searing through the thin binding covering his perfect, awe-struck vision.

He leisurely sits himself down next to you on the edge of the tub, one hand reaching for your soapy lathered leg and massaging the supple, smooth skin. Almost makes you melt under his wooing touch, leaning your head back against the back of the wide marbled tub as you feel your body coax perfectly with the hot, bubbly water basking into your tense skin and Satoru's generous soothing massage.

A soft, satisfied sigh leaves your lips, all worries and stress evaporating from your aching body. You glance over to the grinning, lanky man still massaging your relaxed limb, feeling his languid fingers gradually linger more further upward with enticing grazes.

You tilt your head lazily over onto your shoulder, lips curling into a tight smile, eyes focused intently on his slick maneuvering.

"Satoru" you finally murmur with a shrill threat dipping into your soft voice, he simply hums nonchalantly. As though he doesn't know what he is doing, also tilting his head as an act to his faulty innocence. His fingers continue to skim up along the pliable flesh of your legs to your mid thighs.

An electrical shiver crawls all through your lower body up to the arch of your spine from his not-so-subtle touches.

"I didn't start a bath just for you to seduce me, dummy" you twitch your leg a bit from him, but his grasp had already tighten, bringing it back to his gracious touches. He chuckles lightly, tracing soft shapes along the plush of your mid thighs with cooing strokes.

"Could've fooled me love" he remarks, laughing at the subtle splashes you made towards his slick retort, hitting nothing but his invisible shield (Infinity) blocking from staining into his clothes.

"Seriously Satoru, I just want to relax" you whine dramatically, leaning your head back against the marbled stone of the tubs back, untensing your shoulders and leg muscles.

"I'm here to help you with that baby...just let me help you, that's all I want to do" his crisp voice draws you in, glimpsing back at him wearing such a serious and intent look (so not like him, and that lets you know how serious he was actually being).

Your brows perch highly, adjusting your body as you lean forward closer towards your leering towering boyfriend, carefully removing your leg from his clasp. Your arms cross over one another amongst the side of the tub, resting your chin on your forearms as you gently poke and stroke at his pants against his knee. All while lazily starring up at him.

"No funny business though Satoru, my body is yelling at me and my uterus is already twisting in ways it shouldn't" you sigh in defeat, watching the excitement quickly sprawl all across the sorcerers flawless face, like a child getting permission to pick out their favorite toy from a store.

Doesn't take him long to fling off the restricting clothing confining his surprisingly bulked, well fit stature. Pooling the nuisance of cloth against the frame of the creaked door, carefully maneuvering into the tub behind you, and wrapping his prolong, burly arms around your smaller figure. Pulling you in close into his firm chest, with your back flushed perfectly against his welcoming skin.

You carefully lay your head back against his chest, listening to the steady heart beats and breathing rhythmically waft through his chest. The warmth and comfort of his beefy arms securing you closely into his enthralling embrace. Feeling ever so safe and adored by him. Entrapped by his weighing, soothing presence.

Your eyes slowly peek up to meet his closed ones, carefully studying, admiring the beautiful snowy curled lashes gently grazing his skin beneath his eyes. The scattered imprinted marks from his strenuous fight with Sukuna, decorating ever so breathtakingly along his luscious flesh. He was a beautifully decorated canvas that told lulling stories, a sheer work of art through your eyes that you didn't think you'd come to know and love. A pillar of pure enchantment and unyielding love.

Lost in your own wonderment and awe, you hadn't realize the growing smirk playfully tugging at the sorcerers lips, perking down at you. With one eye peered open, taking in your greedy admiration for the man, Satoru could only wallow away in the intent adoration and gawking you were bathing him in. Feeding into his attention hunger and ego.

"You know the more you stare, the harder it is for me to not to appreciate you more, myself baby" his smooth voice chuckles coyly, adoring the sudden fluster draw out along your face. His arms locking in more firmly around you from squirming out of his grasp, holding you close and steady against his built. His glossed lips meet the open span of your torrid cute cheek, placing a gentle, tender kiss upon the plush flesh.

"S-shut up Satoru...I was just...looking" you pout softly, whipping your head back forwardly as you adjust your body against his.

Finally finding a comfortable position for yourself, you could feel the heat of his breath fan against the shell of your right ear, his chin nestled ever so comfortably amongst your shoulder, arms still latched safely around you. Completely and utterly content.

"You're so cute, my cute little soon to be wifey" he toys subtly, gingerly nipping at your ear lobe, snickering at your jolt to his actions. Feels your shoulders nudge against him, smirking ever so smugly and childishly as he always does.

"Satoru, I will kick you out if you don't stop" you warn, face still hot from the steam of your bath to the growing flustering blooming throughout your entire body. He laughs carefully, detaching his teeth from your lobe as he settles back gently onto your shoulder, this time resting his cheek flatly against the supple skin. Humming, almost purring to the consoling touch of your skin masking with his.

His smooth lips brushes faintly against your neck, pressing delicate kisses upon the inviting space.

"Haha...I'm sorry sweetheart, here let me just...hold you...let me take care of you, my love" he sweetly croons into your neck.

"Let me tend to you...can I spoil you princess? I'll pamper you, make you dinner and everything...tonight is all about you, my heart, service and entirety is yours to command" he gives you another subtle kiss against your neck, feeling you tense up to the warm, fuzzy touch of his silky lips. Breathing ever so lightly to his every touch and pledges to you.

You hum to yourself, leaning your head a bit as you raise your right hand to cup his cheek and smile, glancing in his direction.

"Aren't you being such a sweet kiss up? but...of course 'Toru, tend to me tonight please...I missed you and your touch honestly" you mumble softly, melding deep into his endearing embrace, readjusting your body to face him directly as you cup both of your hands onto his cheeks. A honed smile gracious his face, leans into the warm invite of your palms, kissing delicately amongst your skin.

Big, round globes of brighten cerulean meets your generous gaze, his hands draping over the curves of your body.

"The feelings mutual baby...of course I'll tend to you, that's all I ever want to do...want to make you feel good, want to make you feel safe, loved and absolutely adored...I want to hand you the world and then more"

˚₊ ‧ ꒰ა 🤍 ໒꒱ ‧ ₊˚

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Very nice 1963 mid-century modern A-Frame in Rhododendron, OR. 2bds, 1ba, asking $649K.

Very nice. A-Frames usually have nice spiral stairs and cozy fireplaces. This one has a nice stone one. The living room is a pretty good size.

The fireplace has a nice heat insert.

Washer and dryer are tucked behind the stairs. Not an ideal situation, but I'd rather have them there than not at all.

The dining area is roomy and has a cute little heat stove in the corner plus doors to the patio and hot tub.

Nice, but small, kitchen along the wall. I like the shiny gray cabinets, but there's no dishwasher or exhaust over the stove.

For $649K I would like more of a kitchen.

The single bath is a shower room. Very standard sink.

On the 2nd level there's the primary bedroom. It's a fairly small room and for privacy it has curtains.

There's nice stone on the right and full-size stairs to a 3rd level.

They've got this room set up as a sitting room. A smaller set of stairs goes up to a 4th level.

They've got a mattress in there.

So, this would be the 2nd bedroom. It's cute.

With this sitting room, it's like a suite.

Looking down at the living room from the stairs.

There's a deck in front of the house.

And, a patio with a hot tub in the back.

There's also a large shed on the 4,791 sq ft lot. I'm not so sure that I would pay $649 for this.

https://www.redfin.com/OR/Rhododendron/25240-E-Tiger-Lily-Dr-97049/home/56832571

[thecouchsofa]

hi!! #14 & #90 for the trope mash-up if you want to? 👀♥︎

Fanfiction trope mashup - Bodyguard AU x Unexpected Virgin

I took this in a slightly different direction to what I was intending, but I quite like it!

Rating: M

“I can’t fucking believe you.” Malfoy slammed the door as he stomped in behind Harry, the rusty hinges squealing. “Do you have any idea–”

“Come off it, Malfoy, you pillock.” Harry rolled his eyes, delighting as the corner of Malfoy’s lips twitched. He sagged against the cool stone wall, trying to catch his breath for the first time in hours.

“I told you not to draw attention to yourself.” Malfoy tugged at his pale hair, twisting the strands around his fingers. He looked far older than his eighteen years, the seemingly endless months of war hanging heavy on his frame. He had lines now, between his arched brows and across his high forehead. They stood out when he hunched over a book as he read by candlelight, too nervous to cast a proper Lumos.

“I didn’t try to–”

Malfoy’s laugh was hollow. He fixed Harry with a look that displayed the fatigue and sadness lodged deep in his soul after so many losses. “You pulled your wand on Greyback. That–”

“I had to.” Harry’s words tripped over themselves. He clutched at the wall, breaths coming faster and faster, the echoes of the offensive spells fired at him and Malfoy still hot on the skin of his heels. “I couldn’t not, not after everything.”

“Then let me do it.” Malfoy’s voice was desperate, pleading. “I’m supposed to protect you. You can’t let me fail at this, Potter.”

“You don’t care about me,” Harry said, though he didn’t believe it. He saw how Malfoy looked at him now, had watched the fear and determination on his face when he threw himself between Harry and the oncoming spells.

“Sirius does.” Malfoy yanked at his jumper, tugging it over his head. There was no point in keeping it now, not in the state it was in; they’d have to burn it before nightfall. Before they moved on from there, to somewhere safer. Wherever that was. “And I can’t let him down, Potter. Not after everything he’s done for me.”

What about me? Harry wanted to ask. He ached to, needed to hear the answer out loud, that something that he felt from Malfoy every day, in each action he performed. What about what I’ve done? What about what you’ve done for me?

Malfoy’s tongue swept over his bottom lip. He looked at Harry then – really looked at him. “I’ve killed for you.”

“Yes,” Harry said. And I’d do the same for you.

Malfoy’s pale throat moved as he swallowed. “I’d do it again.”

“I know.”

“I would.” Malfoy’s gaze was heavy, his shoulders sagging. “But please don’t make me.”

And that was something that Harry couldn’t promise, no matter how much he wanted to. Malfoy knew that; Harry could see it in his face.

The rest of their clothes hit the floor, the threads of fabric standing on end, friction from the offensive spells caught in each strand.

Malfoy stared at the pile for a moment, jaw clenched tight. “We’ll have to burn them.”

“Not in the fireplace.”

“No. The bath.”

Harry gathered up their things, shuddering at the remnants of hostile magic that brushed against his skin. Every atom seemed to scream They’re here. He’s here. Come and get them.

The light of the fire danced across Malfoy’s face as they stood next to the tub, watching as their clothes burned. The scent of it was cloying, magic mixed with ash and charred polyester. Malfoy shuddered, wrapping his arms around his bare torso. Harry glanced at him only once, eyes dropping lower, cheeks heating.

Malfoy cleared his throat, the sound harsh against the backdrop of crackling flames. If Harry closed his eyes and listened, he could almost believe he was camping somewhere in the countryside, innocent and safe.

“We need to wash the magic off.” Malfoy’s tone was rough, like shoes on gravel. “I…”

“Together,” Harry said, before he could stop himself. He couldn’t go back downstairs and wait, ears straining for any sign of someone having followed them to that crumbling lighthouse on the edge of the world.

Malfoy nodded curtly, turning away when Harry looked at him.

They couldn’t turn the water on, just as they couldn’t activate any of the lights. Instead, they took turns holding Malfoy’s wand up, keeping a finger on it to activate the Aguamenti. Malfoy shivered, stepping closer to Harry as water sluiced over the planes of his torso. It shimmered, magic running down their skin and collecting at their feet. Droplets of water clung to Malfoy’s pale lashes as he turned to face Harry, blinking slowly. He didn’t flinch when Harry reached for him, not as he had the last time, the only other time Harry had tried.

“Draco,” Harry whispered, and Malfoy finally touched him back. He slid a hand round the back of Harry’s neck and tugged him in close, kissing him firmly. Their knees bumped in the cramped space, Malfoy’s fingers tangling in Harry’s hair, his breath a whisper.

Malfoy gasped, tipping his head back, when Harry wrapped a hand around the length of him. His legs shook, fingers clutching for any part of Harry he could reach. “I can’t … Potter, I haven’t … not before. Not ever.”

Harry kissed the confession from his lips, swallowing each of Malfoy’s moans, keeping him quiet so they wouldn’t be found. His bicep bulged, muscles straining with the effort of keeping Malfoy’s wand raised above their heads. He didn’t protest, didn’t ask to swap. He touched Malfoy slowly as Malfoy looked his fill, ran his fingers over another body for the first time.

“Please,” Malfoy whispered, legs shaking. “Fuck, I need…”

“Hold on to me,” Harry directed, tightening his grip and speeding up his strokes.

Malfoy clutched onto him and gasped, mouthing Harry’s name again and again against his damp skin. He said it out loud as he crested, Harry’s given name passing his lips for the first time as the smell of their burning clothes filled the air.

“Sirius is going to kill me,” Malfoy muttered against Harry’s shoulder, later, after they’d Apparated to a damp forest in Cumbria.

Harry wrapped an arm around Malfoy’s shoulders, holding him close. “Not if I do it first.”

His words rang loud in the quiet, a joke that didn’t so much as fall flat, but seemed to predict something, a future that neither of them wanted.

“Maybe,” Malfoy said. He pressed his lips to Harry’s throat, parting them and swiping his tongue across Harry’s skin. “But not if I do it first.”

Send me two tropes and I'll mash them together

[aneurinallday]

Green Eyes

Chapter 19: Atonement

He took Alec home - not to Arrow House, but to the old flat above the betting shop in Small Heath, where Thomas had lived as a bachelor before Grace, and which was much closer.

All eyes were upon them as they entered, Alec an arresting sight with his dishevelled curls and smudged makeup, clutching Thomas’s coat around himself. The fringe of his dress was visible below it, the long tassels dancing around his bare legs. But nobody would dare remark upon his appearance.

“You’ll be safe here,” said Thomas as he guided Alec upstairs. “I own this part of the city, and the people answer to me. Nobody can harm you here.”

The small, sparsely furnished flat overlooked the dreary cobblestones of Watery Lane, a view which Thomas had looked at every day while building his empire brick by brick. Alec stood lost in the middle of the room, glancing at his unfamiliar surroundings. He was still clutching the empty picture frame - the only material object that still mattered to him.

“You can put that down - nobody will take it away from you.”

Alec reluctantly set the frame down on the dresser.

“Are you hungry? I can heat up a tin of something.”

Alec shook his head.

“Alright. Let’s get you cleaned up, eh?”

Leading Alec into the small en-suite, he sat him down on the edge of the bathtub and turned both taps. He removed the blanket from around Alec’s shoulders, folded it, and set it aside.

“Take a bath,” he said, “I’ll have my men start looking for your daughter.”

He left Alec staring into the water, and headed downstairs into the betting shop. From there began the search for Clara Cobb - a search he knew would most likely end in failure.

“Her name is Clara,” he said to the assembled Peaky Blinders, “She’s a year and a half old. Yellow hair, green eyes. If Cobb didn’t kill her, he most likely dumped her at an orphanage. Pay a visit to every children’s home in the area. Track down everyone who’s adopted a little girl of that description since late January. Tell them she was kidnapped and should never have been put up for adoption. Whatever compensation they want in exchange for her, tell them Thomas Shelby will pay it.”

He faltered, reluctant to voice what he needed to say next.

“It’s possible that Cobb planned to raise her until she was old enough to start working. Search every business he owned, in case she’s being kept among the other prostitutes’ children. Those businesses belong to Bragg now, and he won’t like us poking around, but he won’t risk starting shit with us - not when he’s still trying to establish himself as the new man in charge. Go in pairs, and don’t leave a single fucking stone unturned. This child needs her father and he needs her. We don’t have time to waste. Understood?”

A map of the West Midlands region was rolled out, and pins were placed to mark the brothels Cobb had run. Once he’d finished giving the men their orders, Thomas returned upstairs to his flat.

He expected to find that Alec had finished his bath, but instead found him sitting in a half-empty tub. His naked knees were drawn up to his chest, and he was gazing vacantly at nothing. His tasselled dress had been dropped in a pile on the floor, unwanted.

Thomas dipped his hand in the water. It had turned cold.

“You’re going to freeze,” he said.

He turned the hot taps on full blast, then crouched by the side of the tub. With a bar of soap and a sponge, he began to scrub Alec’s body, trying to wash away the memory of the Arcadia. The downward trajectory of Alec’s life was mapped out on his skin - fresh welts layered on top of old bruises, ribs making their presence known above a malnourished stomach, rope-marks itching on his wrists and ankles. On his neck and shoulders were love-bites left by loveless encounters - uncaring visitors who’d taken what they’d wanted and given nothing in return.

“I’m sorry,” Thomas said quietly. “I never should’ve sent you away.”

Alec didn’t respond.

With his thumb, Thomas attempted to wipe away what remained of the smudged liner from around his eyes, but it held on stubbornly.

“That’s not giving up easy,” he said to fill the silence, “I’ll ask my Aunt Pol if she’s got anything to remove it. While I’m at it, I’ll ask her if she’s got anything to make these marks go away quicker. A cream or something...”

He checked the water temperature again. It was warm. He turned off the taps. Picking up a bottle of shampoo, he shook some of the fragrant liquid into his palm, and began to rub it into Alec’s hair.

Finally Alec spoke, his voice thin and hoarse from disuse.

“I’m never going to see her again,” he whispered.

“You will.” The dark, wet curls were slick in Thomas’s hands. “I promise you will.”

“She’s gone, Mister Shelby. I’ll never find her.”

“I’ll find her for you,” Thomas assured him, though the words sounded hollow even to his own ears.

“She won’t remember me,” Alec mourned, “Even I find her tomorrow, she won’t remember me. It’s been two months. She’ll have forgotten me by now.”

“You can’t be sure of that.”

Alec put his face in his hands and took a deep, shaky breath to steady himself, trying to suppress his tears.

“I’ll be nobody to her. I’ll be nothing. She won’t love me any more. If she has new parents, she’ll love them instead.”

“She might not remember you, but she will come to love you again. She’s still just a baby. All she’ll care about is that you’re the one holding her, you’re the one singing to her, you’re the one playing with her. Those are the things that matter to a child.”

Alec lowered his hands and looked desperately around the bathroom.

“I can still hear her, but she’s not there. Sometimes I dream that I’m holding her. I can feel her in my arms like she’s there. When I wake up, I just…I just want to go back to sleep, so I can feel her again.”

“I’ll find her,” Thomas repeated firmly.

With wet hands, Alec grasped at Thomas’s arm and clung tightly to it.

“I don’t know what to do, Mister Shelby,” he whispered, “She was…she was all I had. Before I met you, she was my only friend. And after you sent me away, it was the same. But now she’s gone.”

“I’m sorry.”

“My whole life, I was just…I was nothing. I was invisible. People only saw me when they wanted to use me. I didn’t know why I was here - what the point of me was. But when she was born, suddenly I became someone. Someone who mattered. Clara loved me and needed me, and she didn’t care what I was. She didn’t care if I was a whore. To her, I was just her dad. And I was a good dad too.”

He could no longer see through eyes stinging with tears and soap-suds.

“When I held her, I could see her whole future. All the nice things she’d have and all the places she’d go. And I knew I’d do anything to make it come true. I knew I’d do anything for my Clara. And I didn’t hate myself anymore, because I knew I was finally doing something good.”

He choked back his sobs.

“I was nobody until I became a dad. But now she’s gone and I’m not a dad any more.”

“You still are. You always will be.”

“I’m not. How can I be?”

“My Grace is dead but I’m still her husband. Your Clara is still out there, and she will come back to you. I don’t know when, but she will.”

Alec’s ragged sobs subsided into hiccups.

“I’ve always protected her. I’ve always tried my best. But now she’s gone, and I don’t know where she is, and I don’t know if she’s alright. What if she’s in danger? What if she’s…?” He couldn’t speak the word.

“She’ll be alright,” Thomas said, “Whoever she’s with, I’m sure they’re taking care of her. There are decent people in the world.”

“But…”

“You’ve come this far by yourself. Now I’m here, and I’m going to help you. We’ll see it through together, the two of us. Understand?”

Alec nodded through tears and released his grip on Thomas’s arm.

Scooping up more water, Thomas cupped the young man’s jaw to hold his mouth shut, and tipped his head backwards. He placed his hand over Alec’s forehead to shield his eyes, and carefully poured the jug over his hair, rinsing away the foam.

“There.” He kissed Alec’s shoulder, pressing his lips against damp skin. “All done.”

“What should I do, Mister Shelby?”

“Right now? Nothing. You’ve worked yourself to the bone. It’s time to let us take over.” Thomas straightened up. “Now, come on. Up you get.”

Alec’s body was stiff from sitting in the tub for so long, and he struggled to rise. Thomas helped him to towel himself dry, then led him back into the main room. In the corner stood a narrow bed with an iron frame and a single pillow.

Thomas pulled back the old patchwork quilt and sat Alec naked on the edge of the bed. Then he helped him to lie down, lifting his bare legs up onto the mattress.

“Get some sleep,” he said, covering Alec warmly with the quilt.

Alec was unresisting, his mind elsewhere. Then he startled. He suddenly sat up, pushing back the quilt and attempting to rise.

“I shouldn’t be here,” he croaked, “I should be out looking for her.”

“My men are already looking for her. You have to rest.”

“I can’t just wait here. I can’t just do nothing.”

“Easy now,” Thomas said as if soothing a skittish horse. “Easy…”

“How can I stay here? It’s been so long…I haven’t held her in ages. I need to find her.”

“Alec, stop. Listen to me.” He held Alec’s face between his hands, stroking his haggard cheeks, gazing into his hollow eyes. “Listen. We’re searching for her. We’re the Peaky Blinders and we own this town. Wherever she is, we’ll find her much quicker than you could.”

Alec seemed to feel slightly comforted. It was probably the first time he’d been offered any kind of reassurance.

Thomas gently pushed him back onto the bed. Physically and mentally spent, Alec lay unmoving while Thomas adjusted the pillow and straightened the quilt. Thomas fetched the picture frame that was all that remained of Clara, and pressed it into Alec’s hands, then pulled up a chair beside his bed.

“Get some rest. If anything happens, I’ll wake you. Alright?”

“...Alright.”

Unable to argue any longer, Alec closed his eyes, hugged the empty picture frame to his chest, and sank into miserable unconsciousness. Thomas kept a silent watch over him, and when the nightmares came, he was ready. As soon as the sleep turned uneasy and the restless tossing began, he stroked Alec’s damp curls and murmured softly in his ear until he settled again.

Thomas knew that it was his own failures that had led them here. In his desperation for companionship, he’d refused to recognise the obvious warning signs before it was too late. And once the undeniable truth had been revealed, he’d failed to show mercy to a powerless pawn who’d been wielded as an unwilling weapon. Failed to predict the extent of Cobb’s vindictive cruelty. Failed to protect an innocent child from being separated from its father. Now Alec and Clara were paying the price for Thomas’s catastrophic mixture of stubbornness, complacency, and pure aching loneliness.

He knew there was nothing he could do to make up for those abject failures. But he had to start somewhere, and for now, all he could do was offer Alec a moment’s respite from the living hell of losing his daughter.

[lou-struck]

Hot Tub and Heavy

Kotaro Bokuto x reader

25 Days of Ficmas Day 1

WC:1.1k

~ The two of you are spending the last night at your mountaintop resort in the comfort and privacy of your villa’s Hot Tub. 

Warnings: A bit suggestive but nothing too bad, lots of affection, touching, and kissing, alcohol use mentioned.

“I can’t believe we are doing this.” you giggle, securing your grip on your boyfriend’s calloused hand as he drags you across the stone balcony of the private mountaintop Villa that has been your home for the last few days. Your other hand holds the fluffy white towel against your swimsuit-clad body. 

“It’s gonna be great.” he laughs as a sparse flurry of snowflakes begins to fall from the darkened sky around you, landing on your bare shoulders as you run. You may be chilly, but the Villa’s private hot tub is steaming and ready to warm the two of you up in its bubbling waters. 

You’ve had a bit to drink tonight and thought it would be fun to spend your last night of vacation in the hot tub to watch the snowfall. He steps into the water first and holds out a strong arm for you to use as you step in. “Here, I don’t want you to slip.”

“Thank you,” you beam, soul, touched by his consideration as you toss your towel under one of the little tables to keep it protected from the elements and allow your chilly feet to enter the warm water. The two drastically different temperatures your body is experiencing is quite a strange sensation. 

Your lower half stings a bit as it grows accustomed to the dubbing water, while your previously freezing upper half is heated by the hot tub’s steam but is still cold to the touch. 

“You sigh in relaxation as you settle in and allow the jets to soothe your sore muscles from the last few days on the slopes. “This feels amazing, you hum, lolling your head to the side to rest on his muscular frame. 

“No kidding, this is what the doctor ordered.” he sighs before looking at you with puppy dog eyes. “What if we just stayed here forever?”

“I wish we could, Kou.” you hum, intertwining your fingers with his much larger ones. 

“Why can’t we?” he laughs, wiggling his thick gray eyebrows in a way he thinks is seductive. But it’s just adorable.

“We’d go broke. You laugh, knowing that this trip was a gift from the owner of his professional volleyball team and not something either of you could afford year-round. “Besides, any day with you feels like a vacation.”

“So true,” he laughs boisterously. “But I sure am glad I got to take you with me,” he says, giving your hand a squeeze. You turn your head to look at his face, and you can’t tell if the blush on his cheeks is from the cold air, warm water, or the three cups of boozy cocoa he had downed inside.

A blissful smile grows on your face as you squeeze it back. “Me too Kou, it’s been a perfect trip.”

“Better than perfect,” he says before bursting out laughing at a joke he hasn’t even told yet. “Could you imagine what it would’ve been like if I had to bring along Tsum Tsum instead of you?”

You laugh along with him, imagining the two large men awkwardly sharing the Villia’s lone kingsized bed. Kotaro Bokuto has always been a cuddler, so even if they started the night on opposite sides, your boyfriend would eventually make his way across the mattress in his sleep and curl up to the poor setter. “Honestly, I would be a bit jealous if Miya was your little spoon on this trip instead of me.”

This sends him into a fit of uncontrollable laughter as he processes your little quip. “There’s a reason why no one wants to share a bed with me on away trips.” 

“Their loss.” you tease, moving in close to him. The steam and snow creates an almost magical curtain around the two of you as your gaze drops from his golden gaze to his tempting lips. 

He smiles playfully as he leans in closer to you and, with the suave directness of a high schooler on a movie date, asks. “Wanna make out?”

Putting aside the great delivery of his request, you are more than happy to oblige. 

You lean forward, shifting your weight through the water until you are practically chest to chest. You take his lips greedily, tasting the hints of peppermint creme liquor on his lips. His strong arms hold you steady as he lifts you onto his lap to deepen the kiss.

You don’t register the brief pause in the snowfall as he steals the air from your lungs. But the time you pull away, you look at his pink cheeks and smile. But before you can go back under, you notice his hair.

His two-toned hair is frosted over from the unique conditions, and his strands are striking out wildly, encased in a layer of ice and snow. You pull back a bit to take a better look at his now-frosty tips.

“Wait, babe. Why are you smiling like that?” he asks. “Do I have something on my face?”

You laugh. “Kou, look at your hair, it’s wild.” 

He looks a bit confused until he spots his reflection in the dark window across from the hot tub. His face lights up in amusement as he feels his frozen strands crunch under the pressure from his hands. “Woah, check me out. I’m like an ice guy or something.”

“The cutest icy guy.” you giggle, wiggling off his lap, trying to peer around his broad frame to catch a glimpse of your own reflection. Your hair looks almost as wild as his, not a single strand in place. You pose and show off the wildstyle with goofy confidence. “So, do you like my new look?” 

“You’re so cute,” he gushes gently, toying with some heavy strands on top of your head. 

You can tell he wants to try and play with his hair some more, so you wiggle your way off his lap and sink back into the warm water so he can dunk his hair under again, eager to see how his unruly hair is restyled by nature’s cold wind.

“Woah, check me out now.” he gawks, watching as his hair begins to freeze in an upright position, overly dramatic yet very similar to the look he used to have in high school. “My hair looks crazy. Could you imagine what it would be like if my hair looked like this all the time?”

Once again, Kotaro Bokuto is completely missing the irony of his words. It’s one of the many things you love about him. 

Your smile is full of warmth as you play along.” Yes, that would be something.”

Tagging: @enchantedforest-network

[velvet-paradox]

Heartstrings (Part Four)

Pairing: Vessel x Female reader

Length: Long

Warnings: NSFW, 18 + ONLY, reader discretion advised, in which Vessel tells you the truth.

Tagging: @synnersaintt @megangovier20 @thesoundresoundsecho @marmalademary

ENJOY!!!

It's quiet.

Everything is muffled, underwater.

Streaks of black stain and drip over the side of the tub like spiders legs. Vessel holds his breath under the water. It's surprisingly large enough to house his lithe frame, suspended in time, his mind reeling and with the weightless thoughts he's suddenly disrupted he nearly drowns. He opens his eyes under the murky water in time to see Sleep hanging over the shower curtain, red smoky paws propped under its' chin.

"Don't do that!" Vessel sputtered and wiped at his bare face, coughing up little hiccups of water.

"There's something you should know."

"Can't it wait? Jesus." Vessel huffed and sat up, splashing more water over onto the floor.

"I suppose it could but by then it will be too late."

"Too late for what?" Vessel pulled out the plug, the chain tickled his foot and he watched as the water disappeared revealing him in his glorious birthday suit. Sleep didn't care or couldn't be bothered to look away from his position, just watched with narrowed black eyes. "Do you mind?"

"Not at all, host."

Vessel sighed, and stood up, wrapping his waist with a fluffy, actually an extra fluffy towel. He secured it then gave his full attention to Sleep, even if he did huff and puff about it.

"Now, what is just so important?"

"He's a liar." Sleep spat, as if the words held venom and by the look on the little creatures' scrunched red face, it just might be.

"Who? Who are you talking about?"

"Who do you think, sir? Y/N's fiancé. He's a phony! I'm surprised she didn't see it, he practically reeks of it. Foul thing to lie to the one you're supposed to love. He must be dealt with."

Vessel frowned. "What makes you think that?"

"Oh I do not think it my dear, Vessel. Oh no. I know it! I know a trickster when I see one," Sleep scoffed and swayed around the top of the medicine cabinet, sitting as politely as an otherworldly cat with six black eyes can. "I overheard him this morning, his conversation sounded promising so I went into his room and all was revealed."

Vessel started to panic. That awful ache in his chest made his stomach hot and his mouth sour.

"Go on."

"Well you see my dear boy…"

….

He hated it. Every second that passed seemed to linger a little too long, set the pace and tone for the dinner. Vessel was never uncertain about Sleep and what the red deity was completely capable of, always took his advice since the incident, had followed along its' path and yet he didn't have a single reason not to trust, right?

But as he sat, albeit uncomfortably beside you at some swanky restaurant in an industrial area of the city, he couldn't help but wonder if Sleep was playing tricks. Although he'd mentioned time and time again, much like old Louie had, that you two were destined to be together. Vessel could never say for sure but he hadn't been led astray so far and whether you knew it or not, the truth was in stone or so Sleep would mumble.

Breakable stones, apparently.

This guy, this Zeke guy, your fiancé was your soulmate. Not Vessel.

He poked around at the roasted vegetables on his plate, adorning everyone's features in this low lighting, the glimmer of your engagement ring. He clutched the necklace when III nearly fell out of his chair with his dramatic story, something new he'd learned about Elephants was very exciting to him.

You grabbed onto him and nearly toppled yourself over as well if it weren't for Vessel's turbo reflexes. He'd just grabbed the crook of your elbow, a mysterious white hot jab to his palm made him jolt. III settled down but when you looked at him, really looked at him, he felt as if you could see his whole life story (including the absent three year hiatus), a collection of thoughts and memories and the unknowns of the future.

"Are you really okay? You were so quiet at dinner." You asked, walking back to the hotel behind the others. Zeke was flowery in his own storytelling, II was eating it up like a fresh baked pie but IV had been skeptical. Looking over his shoulder and pretending to hang himself out of boredom.

"Yeah yeah I'm fine. Just tired you know. Jetlag and all." He said with a shrug. His palm still pulsed a bit.

"I'm glad you came. I don't what I would've done if you didn't." You admitted.

"You would still be getting married." That words filled his mouth dirt. He looked down when he felt your arm hook around his.

"I don't know. I feel like I need your approval for some reason. You wouldn't lead me astray."

Vessel didn't know what to say so he kept his mouth shut, patting your hand until you made back to the hotel and your respected rooms.

….

"She's gotta' know by now right?" IV asked the next afternoon, tapping his chin as he paced the room. "Sleep wouldn't just lie about something like that, would he?"

Vessel shrugged. All the blood rushing to his head as laid upside down on one of the stiff and scratchy recliners. III looked incredibly spindly from this angle, he thought.

"Oh shit! Is it here? Is Sleep in here, listening?" IV rolled off the bed and circled himself around, eyes frantic through the peep holes of his mask. If he didn't stop soon he'd be dizzy and sick and no one needed any of that mess, including housekeeping.

Vessel remained silent. Truth was Sleep never left his side. Well not exactly his side, he wasn't attached to the creature, not bodily, but Vessel would get little glimpses of those piercing, watchful inky eyes, wisps of crimson out of the corner of his eye. A few times Vessel had seen Sleep resting, unnoticed on one of their shoulders or at their feet.

"Well we gotta' tell her, right? We can't let this go on like this! She'll be absolutely heartbroken."

"Or worse." II chimed in.

"How do you mean?"

II sighed and slouched even further into the other recliner. "She could think were trying to ruin her big day. Alright so, say we do tell her 'hey Y/N by the way this chump is lying to you and isn't your true forever mate but because he see's how much of a catch you are and how lucky he'd be to lock you away, he's been pretending so.' Yeah, that sounds HORRIBLE. Or that we might be jealous. Ves should be the one to feel that shock, not that poser."

Blood pounded in Vessel's ears at II's words. Yes it would be terrible to hear something like that from close friends about your supposedly sacred mate. But… the shock part. Vessel squinted and sat up, shivering as he got a rush.

"What kind of shock?"

II snorted and crossed his hands over his belly. "Oh come now, you know. Didn't you pay attention in any of your classes?"

II cleared his throat and pretended to straighten some invisible tie before reciting the following:

Once one finds their mate,

Everything becomes white and clear,

For the shock of fate,

Makes them let go of fear

"Sheesh, you think you of all people would remember that!"

….

He hadn't. He must've forgotten it. Flashbacks of sitting in the back of his classes, doodling and filling the wide ruled pages of his notebooks with everything but lasting information. Back in the days of his "jester" make up, his happiness, reeking of coffee beans and tricks played. Eating SpaghettiO's cold, right out of the can as you and him would swing in gentle unison.

Zeke didn't come off as jealous as he sat with the guys, you'd banged on their hotel room door begging them to come out. You were desperate for a dance, like old times. Vessel even broke a smile as he watched III twirl you down the carpeted hallway.

You and III hadn't lost your rhythm or chemistry on the dance floor, the music of the club was smooth and easy enough to tap his feet to. Vessel looked over to see Zeke checking out some other girl in a low cut top adjust her cleavage. A wandering eye and a liar. Fucks sake.

IV and II noticed too, keeping their eyes on the new prey.

"Nice rack, right?" II's voice broke through the silence.

Zeke beamed like she'd actually flashed them, nodding with his bottom lip his teeth. IV grunted next to Vessel, he silently agreed.

"Not bad. I've seen better."

Vessel wanted to throw his drink in Zeke's face, cause a scene, expose him for all to see. But he didn't. You didn't need that. He instead slammed it in case he got the urge to follow through with whatever the man before him came up with.

"Y/N's are great, don't me wrong boys but… there's nothing like a fresh pair. The lead up to it, the adreanaline, the rush. She hates when I got to strip clubs, why get worked up to not fuck a stripper when I could just do her instead?"

As vulgar as Zeke made his plight, Vessel did quietly agree. Even if he did a piss poor mock of your voice. If he had a beautiful woman (and not just any woman but his fucking mate!) at home who would do what he liked, why waste time and money?

Zeke sat back, confidently, a little too confidently by Vessel's standards really. "That's why I don't tell her anymore."

Thankfully the glass in Vessel's hand was plastic as it would've been in shards on the floor.

"You lie to her?" IV asked.

"A little white lie here and there never hurt anyone."

"But you just said--"

"I know what I said! Sorry. I uh, no harm no foul. What she doesn't know and I do expect you lot to keep those mouths of yours shut, won't kill her. You wouldn't want to ruin her big, beautiful day now would you? Didn't think so. I trust you guys know better than that so… I'm gonna' go get another drink and grind up on my fiancé. Excuse me, lads."

Zeke got up, patted Vessel's shoulder smugly and left the table.

"I'm gonna' get him." II growled and stood, only for Vessel to grab his wrist and drag him back down.

"Don't."

"Ves--"

"I know. I know. We'll tell her, I promise."

"Yeah when? The wedding is three days, man!"

Vessel knew that. He swallowed hard and saw you spinning with III, a take on Jack and Rose in Titanic. Though it looked incredibly strange for this long legged man to be twirling so quickly with a girl two heads shorter.

He'd be the one to break it to you. It would only be fair.

Right?

….

Vessel paced the long hallway the next night. Up and down, touch the elevator doors then walk back to the bay window and touch the cool glass that overlooked the pool. You swam lap after lap, languid and gentle as falling snow. Vessel paced the hall one more time. Two more times. Poor guy was trying to hype himself up to deliver the news.

"What are you doing up?"

Your voice alerted through the quiet of the hall.

Vessel turned to see you by the elevator bank he'd just left, standing there like a vision in black. You wore a sheer and lacy swimsuit cover up, your flip flops squished with water from the pool.

He should have just gone down there, he thought. What if you screamed, what if you cried, what if you wailed like a banshee in the night at the truth of Zeke's betrayal? Would you wake the whole hotel, cause rife and chaos, break out in fight?

Vessel panicked but let you walk up on him, allowed you and only you to touch his mask, cup his cheek, pinch his painted chin. To his surprise another hot jolt of electricity hit him in the gut.

"What's wrong?" You asked, lingering there and smelling of chlorine and whatever it was your wore or maybe it was just you he was smelling. Mates could scent each other after all.

"I uh, I um… can we talk?"

"Of course," you said instantly, taking his wrist and walked further down the hallway. "Zeke said he was gonna' stay out a bit longer, hang with his boys before the wedding."

Vessel bit his tongue, last nights' unscrupulous conversations sans your ears made him instantly picture your fiancé at a strip club, face deep in oiled tits. It made him hot.

"So, what you do wanna' talk about?" You asked once inside your room, the smell of your perfume or lotion or scrub or something Vessel wasn't even aware of reeked, in a good way of course. Just a bit more overpowering. Hints and wisps of Zeke wafted from the double sink vanity in the bathroom. You settled down your things and stood facing your former best friend.

"Zeke--"

"I knew it! You don't like him do you? Vessel he's my person; he knew my phrase, the zing thing. I was really hoping you'd approve." You sounded so sad as you moved away from him, wrapping your arms around yourself.

Vessel hadn't even said anything and you were already distraught.

"It's not that its just… he's not right. The things he's doing, the lies, the betrayal, his attitude is just all sorts of wrong. I know love is sometimes blind but, you've got to see things as they are."

"Lies? Betrayal?" You gave him a quizzical glare and marched back to him. Your scent growing even stronger. "What are you talking about?"

He took a deep breath before unleashing all his knowledge about the situation. He didn't know how you'd take it. What your reaction might be.

It certainly wasn't a slap to his face.

Vessel didn't taste blood but he checked just the same, wiping his mouth, adjusting his mask.

"Get out."

"I'm sorry Y/N. But I'm not the one you should be made at."

"I said: GET OUT!" You shouted again, shoving him towards the door with tears welling up in your eyes, your face scrunched as you sobbed for air.

"If you don't believe me," Vessel took off the necklace, held it out in his palm as he stood out in the hallway then. "Game."

"I don't want it!"

"Take it," Vessel held back his own tears, thankful for the crafted mesh eyes, you couldn't see them pregnantly well up. "It's your turn."

You reluctantly took the necklace and shut the door in his face, making his cape billow with the force of it. He touched the door when he heard you start to sob behind it. He pictured you sliding down its' length, covering your face in your hands. Would you lock Zeke out? Would you confront him straight away? Would you--

"You did the right thing, Vessel." Sleep announced, coiling around his feet.

"Did I? She's a mess right now because of me." He sniffled, gripping his keycard.

"Ah ah, not because of you, because of what you told her. That's a big difference, my boy. You're surely bright enough to know that," Sleep leapt up onto Vessel's shoulder, even gave him a little pat on the cheek with his paw. "There there, host. Let her breathe. She'll understand."

….

None of them seemed to understand how you were going through with all of this. The rehearsal dinner goes on as scheduled, only difference is your lack of enthusiasm. You greeted the guys and everyone who was invited but you just looked at Vessel, he could tell you'd been crying still.

But he did see that you wore the necklace.

He moved II out of the way at the little buffet line, plating up food he knew he wouldn't be able to stomach.

"Game."

"What?" You whispered back to him, pouring gravy over some mashed potatoes.

"You heard me. Are you game?"

"Vessel please-"

"If you really love him you'll play."

With a huff you looked at him, holding up the line.

"I'm still pissed at you."

"I know." Vessel hushed his voice down and gave you a little nudge to keep it moving. "I promise I'm not trying to hurt you. I only want you to be safe, cared for. Don't you know that?"

"No, Ves I don't." Your voice paused, watery and once again on the verge of tears but you saved face and stared up at the popcorn ceiling of the venue before finding your table. "I don't know anything anymore."

That hurt more than intended.

You were lost. All those years ago ihe'd been the one to be lost, didn't know which end was up, if he was on an even path of destrcution or pleasure. You'd been there to guide him along the way. You were there for him when he needed it most and Vessel was damn sure he'd serve you the same dish.

The sudden slam of a SpaghettiO's can on the tablecloth made everyone jump.

Your eyes were wild when they met Vessel's.

III looked at II who looked at Vessel then to you. All their blue eyes were focused on you.

"The hells' that for?" Zeke asked through a mouthful of food.

You stared silently at the can.

"Honey? What is that?" He asked again, bumping your arm.

"Game?"

You straightened and reached for the can, another stinger to Vessel's fingertips this time when you touched. You locked eyes and slid the can towards you, looking at it fondly.

"Game."

"What?"

"It's her favorite thing, but of course you know that don't you Zeke? Being Y/N's mate and all o' that. Keeps them neatly tucked away in all corners," Vessel mused, remembering that one time you'd so conveniently stashed two cans of the quick meal above your stove like a trying-to-quit-one-more-time smoker. There just in case of an emergency. "Probably brought some with her."

"Is that a joke?"

II choked on his Redbull, knowing full well that ALL mates know their partners specialties of choice. Vessel tilted his head as you looked at Zeke. He should know that answer.

"You know I eat them all the time."

"Yeah and it's fucking weird but you're weird so I didn't think of it. I didn't know they were your favorite all time but I mean, I know what you like otherwise."

"I'm weird?"

"In a good way."

You scoffed and started to spin the can on the table. "Tell me then, what's my favorite dessert?"

The people at the table tried to pry, tried to listen in on "happy" couple as tension grew like vines.

Sleep poked his little head out from between the crook of your elbow, it winked one full side of eyes at Vessel the turned its' head upside down like an owl and peered up at you thoughtfully.

"Carrot cake. Duh."

You blinked at Zeke.

"What? Or is it German Chocolate…"

"I don't like dessert."

"What? Of course you do babe, I've seen you eat chocolate every month."

"Only for a week."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh."

"Babe come on it's not that--"

"What was my first car?"

Zeke was in a visible panic, Sleep was now totally invested and showing bleach white fangs in glee, III and IV had their hands on their glasses but stilled them in thin air.

"I don't-"

"You don't know?" As if Vessel was tuned into you like an AM radio, he could hear the wavering in your voice, the realization, the coming to terms that maybe just maybe he was right. He hated the defeated look on your painted up face. Hopefully your mascara was waterproof.

You shot him a watery look then across the table.

"Excuse me."

You abruptly got up, screeched back your chair and stomped towards the exit. The wedding party just stared and murmured what a shame Zeke couldn't remember his mates' particulars. Things that should come rushing to the surface. They went back to eating and chatting, while Zeke shifted and looked uncomfortable but not amused, Vessel noticed that the can of SpaghettiO's was missing from the table.

He found you by the pool.

Swaying your feet in the cool water, the can of food tipped towards your mouth.

"Hey."

You pulled the can away, a ring of sweet red sauce around your bottom lip. You swallowed and gave him a sad little wave.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For ruining your night. Well… nights', plural that is." Vessel crouched down next to you.

"I should be the one apologizing to you. For three years ago, for reaching out after all this time. For slapping you when clearly you knew more than me. For thinking… I don't even know what I was thinking," you sniffed and looked down into the half eaten/drunk can of pasta rings. "I just missed you. The first thing I thought of when Zeke proposed was you. I wanted to share something major in my life, something eccentric was happening to me and I wanted you there. I needed you there."

Vessel touched your shoulder eventually. "I'll always be there."

"I am really sorry for dragging you into this."

"You didn't drag me into anything. You know you can't make me do anything I don't want to do."

You looked over at him with half a smile and an offer of what was left in the can.

"That's not true."

Your eeyes shone bright when Vessel wiped the corner of your mouth. You jerked and opened your mouth but thought against whatever it was you were going to say. Instead you got up, told him you had to go.

He watched you leave, shaking your head and mumbling to yourself. Of course you needed time to process your next move. Vessel's shoulders sagged when he saw you stop at the doors, look back at him one last time then disappeared into the hotel.

[cloverthebarbearian]

Secret Meetings (P.1)

Uktar x GN!Tav 3,380 words (Suggestive not explicit) (P.2, P.3)

Tav's tongue ran down his exposed skin as far as his clothes allowed, before trailing kisses back up his neck, nibbling his ear as he ran his hand from their hair down their spine. "I wish I could kiss you," Tav sighed. "You know why you can't," Uktar muttered in response, wrapping his hands around the small of their back, pulling them closer. They felt his hands creep under their top, warm and welcome against their bare skin. "What if I promised to keep my eyes closed," they teased, nuzzling their nose against him. He let out a gentle laugh. "Not good enough, Sweetness," Uktar ran his hand up their spine, reveling in the touch of their bodies together.

Dusk was fast approaching, threatening storm clouds of grey and blue rolling across the horizon. The evening air was welcome in the busy streets of Wyrm's Crossing. That crisp and haunting chill of promised rain tickling Tav's skin as they approached Sharess' Caress. The familiar warmth of the brothel greeted them when they opened the front door, heady incense wafting through the air.

"Hello, Darling!" Mamzell Amira strolled elegantly from behind her workspace to give Tav a friendly hug, kissing both cheeks in greeting, "How was the trek today?"

"Nothing special, Mam," Tav removed the cloak draped across their shoulders and handed the Mamzell their outerwear to check in behind the counter, "Looks like a storms approaching. Lots of travelers needing rooms tonight, good for business I bet?"

Amira tutted playfully, "And what better way to shield from a storm than the warm embrace of a beautiful stranger, hm?"

She practically floated as she moved about the lobby, "Same room as always, dear?" she called to Tav while working through the Caress' room keys.

"Yes, Mam," Tav replied, "Everything cleaned and prepped I take it?"

"Of course, darling," Mamzell Amira handed them their room key. Just as Tav was about to take it, the Mamzell yanked it back, eyeing their patron playfully, "You know, I'm rather curious who this mysterious little client of yours is."

Tav rolled their eyes with a grin, "I'm sure you are Mamzell, but I've made it very clear they've requested discretion. You know how many powerful individuals come around here requiring silence, often times for our own safety."

Mamzell Amira pouted, "Oh, I know darling. But I can't help that my mind wanders. They're so mysterious! No one's even caught a glimpse of them, the way they manage to sneak in and out with such ease," she sighed, glancing at Tav again before handing them their key in earnest, "Well, I suppose as long as you feel safe and I get paid, that's all that matters," she waved Tav off nonchalantly, "Have fun, dear."

Tav took the key with a smile, a light blush creeping across their cheeks, "I always do, Mam."

Tav locked the bedroom door after checking the room thoroughly. All their standard requests were abided, as usual. Fresh water, sweet wine, and a small fruit and bread platter set up on the tea table. The inset stone bath was full and warm, their closet stocked with clean robes, fresh clothes, and warm towels. A few simple toys and tools by the bedside, in case the mood struck them.

No poison in the wine, no assassins hiding in any unlit corners. Old habits die hard.

They took a deep breath and unlocked the door to the balcony, leaving it open a crack and placing a small wedge of wood in the frame as a stopper. The wind of the incoming storm brought in a bit of mist and drizzle, and Tav shivered. They turned to the bath and began discarding their clothes, submerging their tired feet into the hot water with a sigh. They walked to the center of the large tub and sat down, curling their knees to their chest and closing their eyes as the hot water soaked into their aching bones.

And now they wait.

The waiting was always hardest. They never knew when he'd arrive. He's never missed a date so far, though there have been times he hadn't shown until the morning sun was already teasing the horizon. Tav's only knowledge he had even come at all from feeling him slip into bed to hold them as they slept, and a note left behind by their pillow when they finally woke.

They watched the steam rise from the tub as they listened to the rain. It was coming down steadier now. Rolling thunder echoed in the distance. They began wondering if he'd show up at all tonight, what with an impending storm fast approaching. This was supposed to be casual, and technically all just business. But they'd be lying if they said their heart didn't sink at the idea of a night without him.

They tipped their head back, submerging themselves completely in the heated pool. Their hair wisped around them as they gazed at the ceiling through the haze of water. The rhythmic thumping of their pulse in their ears acting as a metronome, counting seconds as they waited. Seconds that felt like minutes as they held their breath.

A muffled bump shook them from their trance, bolting upright and cresting the water with a deep breath of cool air. They stared at the balcony door, eyes wide and body crouched as if ready to pounce before registering who was causing the racket.

Uktar stood drenched in the open doorway, the earlier drizzles having turned into torrential downpour. Sheets of rain crashed like waves as he fought with the door against the wind. A comparative silence followed the slamming wood as he stood with his back against the door, chest heaving, head low. He finally glanced up and saw Tav, their head resting on folded arms against the edge of the bath, an amused smile across their face.

The masked man gestured to the door, "Couldn't help me with this then?"

Tav suck into the water, running their fingers along the surface, "I was a bit occupied," they said as they took in the sight of him, stifling a laugh, "Looks like you managed a bath before arriving for a change! I appreciate that."

"Ah Ha. Ha Ha Ha. You're hilarious," his head tilted with a mocking laugh as he shook his hands and removed his boots. He walked to the wardrobe, grabbing a change of clothes and moving behind a divider to change out of his now soaking wet attire. Tav watched with an anxious curiosity as he removed his mask and placed it on a table beside the wardrobe, straining to peak between the cracks of the divider's wooden panels. All in vain, they were already certain, but it didn't stop them from trying.

"You actually showed up fairly early tonight," Tav commented, "Usually I'm here at least an hour before you arrive… Thought you'd choose to wait out the storm or something," they bit their lip as they watched his silhouette.

Uktar draped his wet clothes over the divider, toweling himself off as he spoke, "I knew the rain was coming. Managed to talk my way out of any deals going on too late. Scared folks into thinking the sewers may flood. Gave me plenty of time to haul ass over here," he threw his towel over the divider and it landed on the floor within Tav's reach, "Didn't think I'd get caught in the storm though."

Tav picked up the towel and wrapped it around themselves as they begrudgingly left the warmth of the pool. Uktar was busy tying his hair back up and pulling on a fresh pair of underclothes as Tav approached. They glanced at his mask left laying on the side table, gingerly running their fingers along the cool, glossy porcelain. Still spattered with rain, it seemed like it were made of crystal with the way it twinkled.

They heard Uktar clear his throat loudly from behind them, and Tav swiftly turned their back to the divider. Carefully, they picked the mask up and held it out behind them until they felt it leave their grasp.

"Thank you," his low voice replied. His cadence still perpetually annoyed, but Tav could hear the shame tinged below it all. They gave him a few beats to shroud himself, rocking gently on their heels before glancing over their shoulder.

"May I?" they asked, their eyes still trained on his legs.

"You may, Highness," he said with a tease and an exaggerated bow. Giggling, Tav turned around to face him. He leaned back up, adjusting to finish tying his robe as they looked at him.

Tav walked slow, still wrapped in their towel, running their hands under his arms and around his waist, looking up into the eyes of his mask.

"Hi," they said, coy smile betrayed by the blush on their cheeks.

"Hello, Sweetness," he responded, caressing their head in his hand, stroking down their cheek and pulling them close to his chest. The smell of rose oil and ivory soap from their bath still lingering.

Uktar could feel Tav's damp skin seeping through his fresh clothes, "Could we get you properly toweled off?" He quickly ran his arms up and down their shoulders as he pulled away, turning to grab them another towel.

He draped the fresh towel over their head, running the ends up and over their face, down their cheeks, watching the way they seemed to melt against his touch.

"We need to get you dressed," Uktar muttered as he dried their hair.

"What's the point if I'll be taking it all off in a moment?" Tav teased, loosening the towel tied around their torso, letting it fall to their ankles. They stood damp and bare as Uktar continued to dry their hair, pretending he hadn't even noticed his partner's playful advances.

He took the towel off their head and held it against the small of their back, pulling their naked body into him, "The point's in how much fun it'll be to get you out of them myself."

Tav felt their cheeks flush. They reached their hands up to his neck and pulled him down to meet them. They kissed the cold lips of his mask as if they were truly his, before moving down to his chin and neck. Their skin still warm from the bath, they made sure to hold their lips against him long enough to share their heat.

Uktar dropped the towel he had been using to hold Tav against him and wrapped his hands around their bare back. He relished the softness of their skin, squishing the plush spot where their hips met their thighs, running his fingers down the curves of their ass while they kissed him.

He tasted like he had actually bathed before coming, outside of being caught in the storm. There was a taste of earth from the rainwater, but beneath it was a musk of soap and… aftershave?

Tav pulled back and glanced up at him, "Are you… wearing cologne?" They smiled as their eyebrows twisted, once again trying to stop themselves from laughing.

Uktar gently pushed Tav away from him, "You get mad when I come in smelling like the sewers, are you really gonna give me shit for trying to clean up for a change?" Tav covered their mouth as to not be rude, hiding their smile.

After the first few times they teased him, Uktar had either bathed before arriving or bathed at the Caress when coming straight from the Guild. But this was the first time he seemed to have put on some sort of fragrance oil, and it had caught Tav by surprise.

"No, no, you're right," they tried to calm their giggling, "Its sweet. And preferable. Thank you," They pulled him back into a hug, kissing the exposed skin on his chest that his shirt and robe didn't quite cover. Tav turned and made their way to the wardrobe as Uktar sat in a plush armchair. He took the opportunity of Tav standing behind the divider to lift his mask and expose his lips, picking off grapes and sipping wine as he waited for his partner to dress.

"What would you like me to wear?" Tav called out to him, lilt in their voice sounding coy and seductive.

"Whatever you want, Sweetness," Uktar replied nonchalant, popping another grape in his mouth. Tav groaned. It was so hard getting him to play along sometimes. They threw on undergarments, and settled on a thin, billowing shirt. It reminded them of something Astarion might've worn, though a bit see-through with the light weight fabric.

Seeing no point in wasting time with too much clothing, they cleared their throat before coming out from behind the screen. Uktar took one large sip of wine before lowering his mask again, and Tav gradually slipped their body out into the open.

They ran their finger along the edge of the wooden divider, looking up at the man sitting a few feet away as they took their time approaching. They saw Uktar shift in his seat, gripping the arms of his chair. They could practically feel the way his hungry eyes devoured them, hidden behind his porcelain guise.

Tav reached out for their own glass of wine and drank readily, letting one hand run up Uktar's thigh as they placed their goblet back onto the table.

Immediately, Uktar had their wrist in his hand. Pulling them down to him, he wrapped his arm around their back and practically threw them up onto his lap. Tav laughed at the way he tossed them around, letting their hands settle on his chest as he ran his own hands down their back.

"Sooo… what's on your mind tonight?" Tav asked teasingly. The man beneath them let his grip squeeze into their hips as he subtly rocked himself against them. Tav's mouth opened in a silent moan, smiling and running their hands up to his neck.

"Same as always, gorgeous," Uktar's thumbs pushed into the dips of Tav's hips, where their thighs curved in towards their core, "Let's just see what gets us there."

They let their fingers trace along his neck, the tips of their nails ever so delicately gliding across his skin. He sighed, letting his head rest back against the plush arm chair. He watched as Tav took the opportunity to plant kisses on his neck, running their hands down under the tops of his robes. His chest rose, taking in deep breaths under their touch. Tav could feel the warm air building under his porcelain mask - his breath smelling of wine, mint, and molasses. His hands ran up and down their sides, hips gently pushing up into them. They rolled their own body in response, tracing their tongue along the risen veins against his skin.

Uktar's hand knotted into their hair, holding them steady and forcing them slightly away from him. Not enough to stop their touch, but far enough to make them really have to work to keep their lips and tongue against his skin. They smiled and laughed wantonly, pulling at the collar of his clothes.

They felt the strength of his raw desire in his touch, and the ever stiffening length between his legs. Tav's tongue ran down his exposed skin as far as his clothes allowed, before trailing kisses back up his neck, nibbling his ear as he ran his hand from their hair down their spine.

"I wish I could kiss you," Tav sighed.

"You know why you can't," Uktar muttered in response, wrapping his hands around the small of their back, pulling them closer. They felt his hands creep under their top, warm and welcome against their bare skin.

"What if I promised to keep my eyes closed," they teased, nuzzling their nose against him. He let out a gentle laugh.

"Not good enough, Sweetness," Uktar ran his hand up their spine, reveling in the touch of their bodies together. It was short lived, however, as Tav groaned and pulled back, hands resting on his chest as they propped themselves atop him.

They toyed with the edge of his robes, untying the clasps and running their hands over his plain undershirt. Uktar watched them from beneath his refined veneer. Their hands weakly attempting to undress him, their expression seemingly disinterested now. Or rather... distracted. A slew of emotions were obvious across their face, now clearly frustrated and discouraged.

He removed his hands from Tav's back and ran them over his chest, meeting theirs and resting his hands atop their own. He brought their knuckles up to his masked lips, making Tav smile at his attempted thoughtfulness. He took their hands and moved them again. Letting each of Tav's hands rest on either side of his neck, directing their thumbs under the very edge of his covering.

Tav's heart fluttered, gazing into the doll-like eyes of Uktar's mask. At times, they swear they could see his true eyes peaking beneath, watching them wistfully. Swirls of grey and green. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, of a day they could gaze into his eyes in truth.

He nodded as Tav paused, a small gesture allowing them to continue. They let their thumbs travel the length of his jaw, stilling by his chin. His hands held their wrists loosely, allowing them the freedom to move them as they wished. Tav hesitantly ran their thumb over his chin and across his bottom lip, concealed beneath his veil. Their breathing shuddered in tandem at the tenderness of Tav's soft finger against his dry lips, shocked to feel a ring pierced through the center. Uktar went to lick them instinctively, grazing Tav's thumb in the process, causing them to release a breathy moan.

They dropped their forehead against his own cold ceramic disguise, cupping his head in their hands and kissing his porcelain lips with fervor. Short lived - their kisses slowed to a halt, and Tav's chest eventually started heaving.

They didn't cry. Gods, they couldn't cry in front of him. But the ache in their gut was all consuming. They held their forehead against his, praying he couldn't see the tears building up within them from behind his covered eyes. They managed to turn their growing sorrow into a weak laugh.

"This is torture, you know," they pushed themselves from his chest and off his lap, pacing around the room.

Uktar ran his hands over his mask and slumped into the armchair, "Gods, Tav, not this again."

"No, it's not fair, Uktar! We've been seeing each other for months. We're both involved with the guild now - If I found out you're hiding some sort of 'secret identity' and ratted you out, I'd be killed…"

"And we can't have that," Uktar interjected sarcastically. Tav shot him an annoyed glare, and he responded with an exasperated shrug before pushing himself to his feet, "What do you want me to say, Tav? We've been over this! I just…!" He gestured to himself, frustrated, "I just can't, okay? Can we leave it be?"

Tav folded their arms across their chest, looking away from him to hide the tears they felt creeping up on them once more.

"I'm not going to judge you, you know," they said, quietly, "I wouldn't do that. I wouldn't think you were…" they bit their tongue, careful not to inadvertently say something hurtful, "I wouldn't be scared of you."

The air went silent in the room above the caress. They heard Uktar's heavy footfalls approach cautiously until his presence could be felt behind them. Their breath faltering as they felt his hands running over their shoulders, down their arms, slowly enveloping their folded limbs in his own. They felt the rise and fall of his chest pressed against them as they stood together.

"I know you think that, Tav," he murmured, his chin resting on their shoulder.

"I don't just think that," Tav snapped back in defense, "I'm not heartless. I'm not some kid scared of a boogie-man. Need I remind you what my teammates looked like after eating Ilithid worms? On purpose? Hells, I honestly thought Gale looked better for it," Uktar scoffed as he tried to hide his laughter. Tav leaned their head against his, a hand snaking up around the back of his neck, "Besides… as much as I would love to see you, that's not even what I'm asking," they nudged into the exposed skin at the crook of his neck, "I just… I want to feel you, Uktar."

They felt his body tense at their words, gripping them tighter, humming to himself. Time slowed as he gently rocked his body with theirs, eventually relaxing, running his hands along their arms before releasing them slowly.

"Perhaps," he spoke at first with a small hint of unease. But after a pause, he continued, his tone shifting into something more alluring, shrouded in excitement. Tav turned to look at him curiously.

"Perhaps, we can… compromise."

[bugsnax-community-questions]

Bugsnax Community Questions ~ Poll #25

Put filbo, eggabell and the others in one option because there aren't enough slots to fit everyone.

FILBO: Basic Furniture, Dandelion, Cot (secret), Grumpy Baby Mayor, Pawprint rug, Cloudy paws print, painted hut, Group Photo, Streamers, Garden gnome, snaxburg flag, Golden Strabby, Certificate of completion

WAMBUS: Scarecrow, beechwood, Sauce plant seedlings, Sauce rug, Rustic Bed, Mini Cactriffy, Grow light nursery, Wood panel print, cowboy hats, ceiling fan

BEFFICA: Sleeping bag, Ladder Shelf, bestie print, Bestie (exterior), Fuzzy heart rug, Privacy curtains, Bulletin board, glowing stars, purple lupin, befficas journal, Kiddie pool (technically from floofty)

WIGGLE: Hanging lights, Luxury bed (secret), Gilded (Secret), record player, Palm tree, Platinum Award, Beach Chair + Umbrella, Armoire, Music print, Rock club sign, Psychedelic rug

TRIFFANY: Map of Snaktooth, Drafting Table, Prehistoric Floorcloth, Grumpus Skull, Giant skeleton, Barrel cacti, Dig site print, hanging pots, ancient bugsnax statue 1 (pinkle), ancient bugsnax statue 2 (incherito), Bone and Stone (exterior), Bone and stone bed

GRAMBLE: Lantern, Pink oleander, Weather Vane, Knit Sprout Mat, Hay bales, knit bed, Strabby Hat, Doily Table, knitted (exterior), knit baskets, Strabby print, Bunger bed

CROMDO: Tulips, Police tape (Secret), Bug juice dispenser, Big safe, A single hanging bulb, boombox, money print rug, worn mattress, billboard, Motivational poster, Antique print

SNORPY: Loose Newspaper, Conspiracy board, Blueprint print, Protective coat hangers, Metal plating (exterior), Metalworks flower, Satellite dish, deprivation tank, bookshelf, HAM radio, hot tub

CHANDLO: Red Cedar, Framed jersey, Rock climbing holds, Strong trophy, Hammock, Bean bag, Orange bloodroot, Home gym (secret), Sports print (secret), Gym mats, chandlolier,

FLOOFTY: red ti plant, lab bench (secret), Specimen jar, Pirate ship (exterior), Beheading machine, ecience poster, chemistry rug, test tube lights, science print, Chalkboard

SHELDA: Hanging Planter, Herbology station, Primitive grass, Salt crystal, ebony stained wood, zen garden, Meditation cushion, Prairie grass, wind chimes, desert print, torch

EGGABELL: Family Photos, Eggshell print, medical egg rug, Medicine cabinet, Emergency bell, First aid kit, Draped fabrics, igloo (exterior), snow grump, medical bed

OTHER: Cowboy hat roof (Cactriffy), Planted snak (Cactriffy), Snak print (L), Strabby Shelf (L), Snakgoyle (Snaxsquatch), Matilija Poppy (Snaxsquatch), Eyes (exterior ~ B), Legendary snak rug (B), Snak mobile (C), Sodie Fountain (C)

[gelenka-daria]

girl save me w a drabble im begging for scraps

so this has been sitting in my drafts for a long while, it's a sequel to this late halloween drabble and i might as well post it

Mairon’s head snaps to the window at the sound of thunder, the frames shiver with every heavy rumble. It’s very nearly morning and the storm is yet to abate. His master is yet to return. He has no qualms about leaving Mairon behind for days, weeks, even months on end, on some rare occasions, when really, they should have gone hunting together.

Mairon misses him, wondering where Melkor’s hunger will lead him tonight.

He goes back to cleaning an urn, a small thing made of stygian marble and intricately inlined with gold that he’d noticed had been gathering dust, one of the many collectibles his master has gathered over the centuries. He wipes it down to perfection, until he can see his reflection in the black alabaster. He puts it back where it belongs and makes way to a wall overspread with weapons of all shapes and sizes, the last thing he’ll be attending to before the sun rises and he retires for the remainder of the day. He’ll dust, tomorrow. He’s got nothing better to do in this still, quiet manor, so might as well.

He’s in the process of polishing a saber when a familiar presence invades his senses. The air grows potent, heavy with the force of his lord’s power, shifting the atmosphere, weighing it down. No matter how long Mairon had served him, he could never quite get used to the magnitude of his master’s strength. 

So soon? 

Its is soon, but Mairon isn’t complaining. He lays the sword down and heads for the door to welcome him. 

He finds him in the hallway, damp with rain and hair sticking to his back as he ascends the steps leading to the second floor, his long coat gone and he’s– Mairon has to do a double take, just in case he’s seeing things. His master is carrying someone, said missing coat wrapped around the person of which he can only glimpse long, fair legs hanging off his master’s right arm. Mairon stands there at the bottom of the staircase, tongue-tied, his mind spiraling with a multitude of questions that he knows better than to give voice to.

He had been in his lord’s service for the better part of a millennia now, and not once had he come back from his outings bearing anything beside relics and recherché treasures, and for all his charm and self-assured demeanor, he had never been overly fond of or ever sought any other’s company, even those of his own kind. 

So, who–

“Mairon.”

Mairon’s body snaps back to attention like someone’s pinched his nerves. “My lord.” 

“Prepare a bath." Comes the order, absent-minded, almost, gaze fastened upon whoever he's carrying.

“At once, my lord.” His master sounds at ease, for the most part, but something in his tone hints at urgency, that Mairon be quick about it and so, like a bat out of hell, he does just that. The bath is drawn apace, and he lays out everything one might need next to the large tub in orderly fashion, fresh wash cloths and smooth stones, soaps and scented oils. Mairon is in the process of reaching out when his master steps into the steaming washroom fully clothed, expecting to be handed the individual tucked close to his master’s chest, hidden away under the dark garment, but the lord ignores him entirely and makes way to the bathtub. 

Mairon stares at his master’s retreating back in wide-eyed confusion. 

The coat falls at his master’s feet, carelessly discarded to the ground as though it doesn’t cost a fortune, sleeping gown follows, pale and thin and equally wet. His master kneels, carefully sinking the person in his arms in the hot liquid, the water splashing gently, some of it spraying his boots as he reaches for a cloth, his other hand cupping a head of long, white hair, fingers working to unravel the tangles there. 

All Mairon can do is stare, at a loss for words. Is… is Melkor going to bathe this person–himself?

Who–

“Leave us.” His master commands abruptly. All Mairon can do is bow as he retreats, shutting the door behind him, his eyes drift to the large window at the end of the hallway, and sees the first light barely cresting the mountains behind the thick burgundy curtains. Water still sloshes behind the door.

Mairon stands outside until the door swings open and Melkor steps out, the person in his arms cocooned in soft towels, hidden away from Mairon’s wondering eyes. His master doesn’t acknowledge him as he walks past, treading through the hallway to his bedchamber. 

Who?

Why?

Mairon cleans what little mess had been left behind, wipes the wooden floor dry and picks up the clothes piled together for washing, later. He’s ready to turn in by then, and he seeks out his own room. 

Yet how he ends up at his lord’s door is a mystery to even himself. 

It’s open, and Mairon observes his master placing a young man, already clad in a lovely shade of blue, into his own bed, moving him with care, his touch attentive as he sits by his side and smoothes an ivory comb through his snowy hair. 

It’s either Melkor does not notice Mairon, or he simply does not care, he would have dismissed him already if he didn’t want him there and so, emboldened by the lack of admonishment, Mairon takes a few steps inside and lays eyes upon the stranger. 

He doesn’t think he has ever perceived something so captivating.

Mairon’s gaze rakes over a shapely face, coral, plump lips and sharp cheekbones, long lashes fanning his cheeks. He watches his master pull the man’s hair to one side once he is done combing through it before he proceeds to braid it, deft fingers weaving through the tresses, threading the long, blue ribbon between the strands.

He lays the long plait down one shoulder once he is done, thumb running over seemingly soft ridges, his other hand tucking a stray lock behind the man’s ear and that’s when Mairon detects the puncture wounds on the man’s pale jugular. He’s unable to keep the shock off his face, this time, his wide eyes taking in the shape of his master’s teeth in this stranger’s neck. A turning bite. 

He has converted this person.

Mairon struggles his way out of this particular bout of disbelief, and he’s had one too many in the past two hours. 

“My lord, wh-” 

“Bewitching, isn’t he?” Melkor says, his clawed finger tracing the man’s pale cheek, gaze intense, the embers in his eyes burning tender and Mairon can’t think of a time when his master ever wore such an expression. Not even for Mairon himself, who had served and loved him unfailingly. What a riveting, hurtful thing to bear witness to. “I have so longed for a worthy companion.” 

A companion. 

It’s happened. 

The haze of confusion disperses and everything makes so much sense, suddenly, that Mairon wonders how he had not picked up on it sooner. 

Melkor has found himself a bride.

Of course.

Of course.

“I have so longed for a worthy companion.”

Did he? Was I not enough?

Mairon stares at him, this cold, lovely thing that is to be everything Mairon wishes he could have been. Immortal as he is, still he never thought he’d live to see this night, because theirs might be a long, lonely existence but Melkor never really cared, never voiced his need for someone special and as much as Mairon strived to be that someone, he never seemed to amount. 

The tightness in his chest prevents him from erupting into joyless laughter.

You’ve no right to feel betrayed, he never promised you anything. Wasn’t it you who clung to him? Weren’t you the one that begged? 

Mairon fights the bitter feeling down, insides warring between wanting to tear that beautiful man to shreds and stealing him away to have him all to himself.

He can’t do either.

“What pleases my master pleases me.” He declares instead, inclining his head to hide away the hurt, the jealousy.

Melkor hums. “Yes, I am very pleased.” His lips stretch into a gratified, serpentine smile, his gleaming fangs poking from under the curve of his mouth. “I see great potential in him.” 

He must have, Marion thinks, to have gone to such lengths. His master doesn't do things by halves, not a matter as critical as this, at least. Turning someone, altering their entire being and putting such power at their disposal is as pivotal a subject as one could possibly be. His eyes do a final sweep over the sleeping form. 

“He is most comely.” He offers, because he should say something, aiming to please as he’d always done, but gets a cautionary glare for his efforts, Melkor’s eyes gleaming a mean red that Mairon doesn’t usually find himself on the receiving end of. He takes a step back and dips his head in atonement for whatever wrong he’d committed, but by then the flicker of hostility had long since passed and his master’s attentions turn back to the figure laid in his bed. 

“Indeed.” He concurs, his voice gone breathless, eyes hazy, enamored with the gem he caught. Melkor does fancy the finer things in life. But this is no passing fancy, and this new addition to their lives has to be strong enough to endure the change. Not everyone makes it through, at the end, he needs to be looked after. 

So it’s no surprise that, after getting up to change out of his wet garment, and sending Mairon away in the process, Melkor stays by his bride’s side. He doesn’t leave his bedroom for a thing, keeps watch over the young man as he goes through his corpse stage, his body going cold and ashen, his mortality creeping out of him in increments as the human in him dies. Then the fever came, making the man’s body softer and more pliable, warmth returning to him, slowly at first, then faster and faster, a sickness that he would never overcome– that holds all of them hostage. 

Mairon brings his master bowel after bowel of ice cold water and clean washcloths, watches as the man sweats and heaves and trembles in his unconsciousness. It looks as unpleasant as it must have felt, and he’s glad he doesn’t remember when he’d gone through these phases. 

Worryingly, the fever persists, and this never bodes well. 

Mairon stands in the shadows and watches his master pace like a caged animal in front of his bed, fists tight at his sides and eyes gone frenzied because this isn’t supposed to happen, his master had been so painstakingly mindful and now his chosen’s body is too still, too weak, too hot to the touch.

“Stop,” Melkor takes the motionless body in his arms and holds it close, holds it tightly, his hands shaking, the first time Mairon’s ever seen him so desperately frightened. “Stop fighting it, Manwë.”

… Manwë. 

By that time the fever finally breaks, his master had been confining himself in his chamber for a fortnight, keeping vigil at Manwë’s bedside. Mairon pretends not to hear his master’s sigh of relief, the tension trickling out of him in red, seismic waves. The worst of it has passed.

Melkor dips Manwë in another bath of cool water to chase away fever residue, then adorns him in new, soft fabrics, lowers him unto crisp clean sheets and lays himself beside him, keen eyes wide open. 

It’s almost over. 

Manwë should be waking up any day now.

–

It’s two nights later, and Mairon is in the process of adjusting a tilted portrait when a long, cracked shriek swells throughout the manor, the frame shivering underneath his frozen hands. 

At last, Manwë is awake.

Newborns tend to be violent when they first come to, hysterical with hunger and oblivious to their own strength, so more often than not, they would be restrained, for their own safety and that of those around them. But Melkor is one of the strongest out there, he could handle this just fine, he certainly doesn’t need Mairon sprinting his way up staircases and through corridors with Manwë’s howls still in his ears, but Mairon can’t help it, he needs to see this. 

The screaming stops just before he reaches the threshold. He expects utter chaos when he walks into the room, and instead finds his master reclined against the headboard, Manwë’s slighter form pulled across his front, his slit wrist offered up for Manwë to sink into, latching on like it's all he knows to do, like his life depends on it. Because it does, Melkor had to be the one to do it, he is his maker, after all.

Melkor’s other hand smoothes down, coming to a rest at the small of Manwë’s back, his temple pressed to the top of Manwë’s head. “Drink, sweetheart,” he says, watching with indulgent, golden eyes as Manwë feeds off him, “‘Til you’ve had your fill.” 

Mairon has to turn his head from the sight, backing away, much as he wants to be a part of it, he's trespassing on something intimate. Vampire couples feeding from each other is cherished, private, personal. And that’s what Melkor and Manwë are to be. This is not something for him, or anyone, to see. 

Despite everything, it feels like a labor of love, in the end.

[lphoenixspiritl]

Just Friends Helping Friends ... Right?

A Ty Laang ficlet Eight years later and the scar across his back still ached when it stormed. As if on cue the grey sky lit up with a flash of unseen lighting before disappearing into a rumble of distant thunder. The cold flash encroached on the warm light of the candles and the crash of thunder sent a shiver through the collection of small flames. He slid into the nearly too-hot water with a sigh and curls of steam bloomed around him. Leaning back, he let his thumb trace along the scales carefully carved into the quartz tub.

The Fire Nation sure did love their dragons.

Aang sank a little deeper letting his mind wander while his eyes drifted along the carved stone and red banners. It was always a bit disconcerting when he found himself here, maybe a little less with each passing year but the strangeness lingered. That the nation that took everything from him, treated him like a prince every time he'd visit. Even more so now that he found himself alone here. There was always someone checking on him, always nearby should he want something or to go somewhere. After only a day or two it became suffocating.

How did Katara deal with it?

Aang let his head tilt back onto the cool stone rim and his eyes fell shut, letting the heat of the water wash away his aches. Or at least, he tried to. Only a few minutes had managed to tick by before the hinges of the soaking room door groaned open.

"Oh sorry!" a woman's voice exclaimed.

Aang purposely kept his eyes shut. If they thought he was sleeping maybe they'd just leave, and he could avoid being waited on for a little while longer.

The door began to creak shut but suddenly stopped, "Aang? Is that you?"

Aang's forehead scrunched with fleeting irritation, lifting his head, a wet hand dragged down his face and quickly wiped it away. In its place, we're bright eyes and an even brighter smile, though a bit strained at the edges.

"Yes, it's me."

"AANG!!" they nearly shrieked, "I MISSED YOU!"

He looked over in time to see the silhouette of a woman running toward him with frightful speed, her long dark braid trailing behind her. With a slosh of steaming water, Aang sloppily pushed himself up to stand, just in time too. The woman had leaped onto the rim of the tub and launched herself at him.

Aang reached out scrambling to hug her lithe frame to his body, her arms encircled his neck and her legs wrapped around his waist like a koala hare. He had a split second to register the scent of feather daisy and spun sugar before her momentum sent him stumbling backward, dumping them both into the steaming water.

"I'm so sorry!" Aang yelped, pulling the woman up out of the small pool.

He had expected a yell of surprise or even irritated words but the ringing laughter that bounced along the stone walls barely registered.

Her brown braid streamed water from its neat tail, and the drenched pink dress she wore clung to the curves of her hips, its cream-colored panels turning nearly translucent. Her grey eyes shone with mirth, her pink lips stretched into a wide smile, evidence of her barely contained laughter.

"What are you doing in here?" Ty Lee finally asked Aang oblivious to her soaked clothes and the way her legs draped casually over his in the shallow pool.

"Are you ok?" Aang reached out to check her but halted a few inches short of her wet skin.

Ty Lee answers with more laughter but to Aang, it sounds like the temple chimes from his childhood, a sound he sorely missed.

"I'm fine, I promise. I should be asking you that. I didn't think I'd surprise you like that."

"Most people would be surprised by an attack while in the bath."

"I didn't attack you," she paused and bit her lip, "it was an aggressively happy greeting. Besides, you're not most people."

The way she said it made his stomach flutter, ignoring it he leaned back on his palms "You've been spending too much time with Toph."

Ty rolled her eyes, "So why are you here? This room is usually filled with old coots from the council."

"Not to sound like an old coot myself, but my back aches." Aang smiled.

"Did you injure it?" TyLee asked, a concerned look in her grey eyes.

"No, it's uh, where my scar is, from that time in Ba Sing Se?" he explains hesitantly.

She freezes for a moment and Aang kicks himself for scaring her off, but Ty Lee's bubbly self is back in a flash.

"Did you have Katara look at it? You should before you leave."

"She's already gone, they left this morning."

"I thought you were supposed to go with them?"

"I was," he looks away, "but I decided it was better if I just, stayed.

"Why? You love the beach and the flight to Ember Island is gorgeous."

"How'd you know I liked the beach?" Aang asks her teasingly.

"You told me, back when we were kids. Now stop sidetracking, why didn't you go?"

Aang looks at her guiltily "I guess- I don't know," he sputters not sure how to start, "it's just after Katara and I ended things, I thought it would be like when we were kids. We'd hang out, do stuff together, and have fun. But whenever I'm here, I just- I always feel like I'm in the way? Especially when she's with Zuko."

"Like a third wheel?" Ty supplied.

Aang leaned forward and glumly putting chin in his hand and his elbows on his knees, "Yeah, exactly like a third wheel."

"Is that why your aura's been so drab?"

Aang looked around frantically as if he would see only what Ty Lee could, "I- I guess?"

"Don't feel bad, she's been ambassador for a few years now and they both have tons of work to do. I live here and I barely see them sometimes." Ty Lee pouted "Katara has been promising to go shopping with me for weeks, but she's been so busy." she let out a sad sigh, "Ever since Mai went with Azula to train at the South Pole, Kat's been my only friend."

"Well, I'm here and I'm your friend."

Ty Lee chewed on her lip her eyes darting to the just visible sliver of his scar that peeked around his side and she lit up, "You're right and friends help friends, I'm not a healer like Katara but I might be able to help."

"How?" Aang asked cautiously.

Ty Lee held up her hands wiggling her fingers.

Aang palms up, backed up with a noisy slosh and a nervous chuckle, "Slow down there, I want to be able to walk later."

"It's not like that silly. Chi blocking is useful in other ways."

Aang looked at her skeptically, his doubt evident.

"Just let me show you."

Aang is too nice to tell her no and lets Ty Lee direct him to sit on the sunken bench with his arms folded on the tub's carved edge. She sinks into the water behind him with a quiet ripple and her fingertips ghost over his scar so gently he wonders if he imagined it. She lays her hands on his shoulders and runs her palms along his skin surveying his back and taking stock of what she's working with. They feel small on his broadened back but they are confident, working methodically, assessing and cataloging every dip and curve.  

Soon she begins to work explaining what she's doing as she's doing it and he wonders how often she accompanied Katara on her rounds through the medical wing to pick up the practice.

"You see this spot?" she pokes a particularly tender knot below his shoulder blade and he winces, the soreness breaking through his thoughts, "Yup, just as I thought. Your chi is stagnating here and it's causing you pain."

The heel of her hand rests on the knot, "I can't manipulate your chi paths like Katara can but, I can open them up some." her free hand moves too quickly for him to see, making two strikes to his ribs.

Aang expects pain to radiate from under his skin, instead, there is pressure and a shift he can't quite explain, almost like a pop. The wound-up feeling releases and the knot suddenly feels like it's been drained away. What he's left with is still a bit sore but aches much less, almost like an old, yellowed bruise.

He can't help the sigh that escapes him when the ache eases or the way his edges seem to blur a little at the sudden relief. Ty Lee smiles behind him and even though he can't see her, he can feel it. Almost as if the mere upturn of her lips could light the darkest room.

What if she was with you in the tunnels?

Aang pushes away the thought when it threatens to wander elsewhere.

'She's your friend!' he reminds himself.

Ty Lee, oblivious to the mental argument before her continued, working methodically down his back, she found all of his sore spots. Every. Single. One.

Aang did his best to relax but the discomfort seeped through his gritted teeth and furrowed brow, yet he didn't dare make a sound. For some illogical reason, he didn't want Ty Lee to hear the hurt that touching each knot brought him. It wasn't her fault, she was working as quickly and gently as she could, and it was paying off. He could feel how her well-placed adjustments were returning his range of movement. After each flash of pressure there was a release and, that melting feeling as the tension drained away.

But suddenly, she stops.

Aang doesn't realize it at first, not until her pause draws on too long, from odd to awkward to alarming.

"Is something wrong?" he cautions just over his shoulder, a tightness still pulling across his back.

"No, I just have one last adjustment to make but ..." Ty Lee begins to explain but trails off like the dissipating steam.

"But what?" Aang's curiosity gets the better of him and he turns around, sending noisy ripples through the suddenly quiet room.

"It might hurt, like a lot and I don't want to cause you pain." she explains, "At least not more than I already have."

"It's fine." Aang moves toward her, but she steps back maintaining the distance but not the eye contact.

"It's not fine, because of me you nearly died, I'm the reason you're in pain now." she tells him quietly, "I never wanted to hurt anyone. It's why I learned chi-blocking in the first place. So I could defend myself without hurting anyone. But I still did, didn't I?"

Aang shakes his head and takes Ty Lee's hands in his. She lets him. They're warm and strong from fan practice and acrobatics. She looks soft but the callouses along the top of her palms tell a different story, one he someday hopes to learn the words to, but for now, he can only recount the truth he knows.

"You might have been in Ba Sing Se when it happened but you weren't the one who shot me with lightning. You weren't the one who caused this scar. Or my pain." his words are gentle, like her hands were over his skin, tending each hurt with care.

"I'm still sorry."

"I know." Aang smirks, "Just like I knew when you told me sorry five years ago."

Gathering both of her hands in one of his, he wipes a tear from her face and carefully brushes a damp lock of hair from her face, securing it behind her ear.

"You mean it?" she asks, still staring into the crystal water.

Hooking a curled finger under her chin, he tilts her face up to look at him, "Every time."

He tries to put assurance in his words but the grey eyes staring at him glisten with unshed tears, it makes his heart ache. She's so close, her long lashes and full pink lips if he could just ki-

Ty Lee surges forward, her arms wrapping around him in a tight hug. Surprised, all Aang can do is hold her. With her face buried in his neck, she takes a deep breath and lets out a sigh. He gets the flutters again, but this time they've migrated to his chest.

After a minute she pushes off him, and gives him a watery smile, "Ok, let's do this. Turn around and grab the edge of the tub."

Aang does what he is told, letting his trust in her push back against the nerves coiling in his joints. He feels the caress of her touch starting at the tops of his shoulders, tracing down the sides of his spine until they come to a stop just below his shoulder blades. It’s not often that he sees it but he knows what it looks like. A misshapen splotch of dark rosewood surrounded by an even more misshapen stain of pink peach, all set in a permanent interruption of the vivid blue of his tattoos.

A moment ticks by with her palms pressed against his back and Aang resists the urge to check on her. Understanding that everyone finds a path to healing in their own way, in their own time, was a lesson he was learning to swallow and, in this moment, Ty Lee was finding hers. He only needed to give her the space and silence to find it. So, he let the moment slip by, and another, and then another until the soft tickle of a silent breath brushed along his shoulder.

"Take a deep breath," she directs him, "ok, now let it out."

Just as his lungs empty she makes the adjustment. Two strikes followed by the thud from the heel of her palm sends a shot of searing pain streaking through him. He barely gets out a gasp when the release turns him into putty.

He slumps over and water sloshes as Ty Lee panics, "Are you ok? Did I do it too hard? Did I hurt you?"

Aang gives her a weak thumbs up, and mumbles, "I never understood what Sokka meant by it hurts so good until now."

Ty Lee freezes and blinks at him a few times before bursting out into ringing laughter that echoes along the stone. Aang decides at that moment he likes the sound and wants to hear it more often.

A few minutes later he is still melted over the side of the tub letting Ty Lee's hands run soothingly along his wet skin. She hums a soft lullaby into the humid quiet and his eyelids begin to feel heavy. When they finally fall shut the humming comes to an end and the water around them ripples.

"I have to get going," she tells him quietly.

"So soon?"

Ty smiles, he sounds disappointed, like a kid whose friend has been called home for dinner.

"It's late and I've got work to do before bed."

"Not you too."

"The Performers' Protection Act won't write itself." she tells him, "Now keep the water a little warmer than what's comfortable for at least thirty minutes and when you head to bed ask the steward for some muscle ointment."

Pulling herself from the water Ty Lee stands and turns to make her way out of the tub but Aang turns and calls after her.

"Hey Ty?" she swivels to look at him, "Does he care about her? Like really care about her?"

A soft smile pulls at Ty Lee's pink lips, she slips back into the water and leans over to cup Aang's cheek, "Sweetie he took a shot of lighting for her."

"Zuko would have done that for any of us."

"Maybe, but the point is, he did it for her. So I think KitKat is in good hands."

"I jus- yea, I guess you're right."

Ty Lee nods letting her hand drop back into the water, "Don't forget, ask for the muscle ointment. It'll get you through to the morning."

"And what should I do in the morning?"

"In the morning? Hmm…" mischief plays along her lips and Ty gets stands slowly this time, letting rivulets of water run down her sking, the translucent cloth clinging tight to her curves. Taking a seat on the tub’s edge she swings her legs over the carved quartz so her feet land on the cool marble floor.  

When she turns back to face him, there's something sultry in her grey eyes, "In the morning you should take breakfast in the Jade Garden gazebo."

"Why? Does it have a nice view?"

"Yes, but that's not all."

"Huh?"

"I'll be there,"

"Then it's definitely a lovely view." Aang smiles at her still oblivious.

"One more thing, the hibiscus are in bloom, making the whole place serene and pretty, and very, very secluded."

Aang looks back at her dumbstruck, as it finally dawns on him, "Uhm- yes, of course! I'll meet you in the Jade Garden. Just us. Alone. In private! Privacy is good." he stutters, shades of pink seeping into his cheeks.

Ty Lee chortles and leans over the tub's edge to press a soft kiss to Aang's cheek, "Well then, I guess it's a date."

"Yes, a date," eyes wide he nods rapidly, "definitely a date,"

She laughs with that temple bell ring, "See you tomorrow!" she tells him with a wink and skips out of the room.

Only after the door clicks shut behind her, does the blush bloom red and hot on his cheeks and the butterflies riot in his stomach.

With a lopsided smile on his face, Aang sinks deeper into the water. He makes a mental note to tell the steward about his change of morning plans, and to request panda lilies alongside that ointment.

...

Contrary to popular belief, I don't hate Aang - though I do have issues with the fandom's portrayal of him - and while he's not my number one top favorite of all time, I get why he's the favorite among the fandom. I had a lot of fun writing his shyness and nervousness around Ty Lee and figuring out just how he'd react to her more direct approach to flirting. Their ship is one that has definitely been growing on me lately.

[darkspine10]

GF Fanfic - Finding Roots

Tangled Roots (21,306 words) by darkspine10

Chapters: 4/7

Fandom: Gravity Falls

Rating: Mature

Leaving her clothes drying next to a radiator, Pacifica tried and failed to walk outside and face Mabel and Zera for the sixth time in a row. It was taking her an age to step outside, self-conscious of them seeing her bare skin. She mainly put it down to her being uncomfortable in the borrowed swimsuit. Mabel’s taste in pink was a bit more vibrant than her own, to put it lightly, but the colour wasn’t the problem.

Mabel was by any standard slimmer than she was. She had a slenderer frame in general, with her gangly limbs and wiry body. It meant that Pacifica struggled to adequately fit in the bikini top. Her asymmetric breasts were disgustingly crammed in, showing more cleavage and nipples poking through the fabric than she would ever be comfortable with in public. Fortunately, she only had to entertain her sister-in-law and her wife, a marginally easier prospect. In the end she opted to wear the osprey skull necklace over the swimsuit. As a fashion statement it was gauche, but it would serve to draw attention subtly away from her insecurities.

Meanwhile a bandage patch taped on her arm covered up the scratches. Cleaned of blood and dirt, after all she’d inflicted upon herself it turned out the cuts weren’t actually that deep. With luck the marks would fade in a few weeks, leaving barely a trace of her self-caused attempt at scarring herself. Good, she thought. It had been deluded of her to think of doing such a thing in the first place. “Fucking hell,” she muttered, aghast at her own behaviour. She dipped into the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face to wipe away the last trace of her fading and smudged make up. The morning felt like a very long time ago.

She wandered around Mabel’s new living room. It was lightly furnished but had an inviting stone fireplace and couch combination that she had to tear herself away from lest she curl up and fall asleep. Cardboard boxes full of ornaments and disassembled furniture were strewn everywhere. Pacifica stepped on tiptoes, afraid of coming upon Mabel’s pet snake. It wouldn’t be good if she ended up accidentally stepping on her and getting bitten. She had enough marks from tonight already.

Before finally leaving the sanctity of the living room, she wrote a quick note in her journal. The book had thankfully remained dry in an inside pocket of her jacket, though she made sure to position it by the fire to rid any chance of damp setting in. Her urge to document the encounter with the ape monster made her pen dance across the page in an unbidden flurry. It was times like these she felt closest to Mason, understanding the frenzied desire to commit the memories to paper before all the details were lost. Satisfied she had enough notes to remind her of finer details later, she steeled herself, for the cold and the company, and stepped into the garden.

A set of square granite paving stones lead out through the grassy lawn, saving her bare feet from treading on dirt. Approaching the hot tub, she climbed up wooden steps, slicked wet with condensation. A layer of steam hanging above the water was tantalisingly warm against her icy skin.

Zera and Mabel were already soaking in the water, their arms in a reclining position in adjacent corners of the pool. Mabel’s tattoos were on full display all up her arms, a riot of colour. She had seen her skin as a canvas, continuously adding to the collection over the past 15 years. Pink and green butterflies, a golden pine tree, blue swirls in an alien language, she had it all. Compared to Pacifica’s pure, untainted body each tattoo was a link to the past. Mabel noticed her lingering at the edge of the light and waved her over. “Come on in Paz, the water’s lovely.”

Pacifica rolled her eyes. Of course it was lovely, Mabel was in precise control of the temperature with a dial. She stepped gingerly around fake plastic stone cairns which attempted to give the hot tub the look of a Japanese onsen. A gaudy plastic flamingo and inflated palm trees rather clashed with the effect.

The second her toe entered the water it was as if a weight lifted off her shoulders. Her muscles began to relax as a lot of the stress she’d been holding onto melted away. Even though the bandage on her arm was waterproof she still felt a tingle when she lowered herself into the steaming water. Wiggling until she was comfortable, she made sure her chest was partially under the water’s surface. She spread her hair out on the side of the hot tub, as it was still taking ages to dry from her first plunge, so she wasn’t about to restart the whole process.

“So,” Mabel asked, glad to see her friend was enjoying the restorative qualities of the water, “what brings you out here on a night like this?”

“Would you believe I was out looking for a dangerous monster?”

“Really?” Mabel was shocked, though only mildly. In this town monster hunting was a semi-regular occurrence. “I thought maybe your house had burnt down again.”

“No, it’s still standing. At least it was when I left,” she added, making both Mabel and Zera laugh. She smiled, easing up amidst the jovial mood. “I guess I’ll tell you the full story.” The full story was quickly pared down into edited highlights. She didn’t mention her motivations, besides that Manly Dan was involved, and focused more on the practicalities of her search for the Unshriven and ensuing pursuit. The couple remained enraptured during her entire narrative. “Anyway, then I blundered over your fence and that’s how I ended up taking an unwanted dip.”

Zera wagged a finger. “That’s what you get for vaulting into random strangers’ gardens.” She flashed a wink at Pacifica to show she was only teasing.

In the other corner Mabel was her usual excited self and had hung on every word during the story. “Woah, that ape thing sounds intense.”

Zera simply nodded, her eyes half-lidded and seemingly content to rest in the water with her head leaning on the side. Pacifica couldn’t blame her for not being as invested; she had interrupted the pair’s private relaxing evening after all.

“You’re pretty lucky it didn’t maul you any deeper. You might have got gutted,” Mabel said a bit too eagerly.

“What, this?” She raised and lowered her bandaged arm with a weak splash. “This was nothing glamorous. I fell through a bush.”

“Oh.” Mabel visibly deflated, then perked up again almost as swiftly. “Well, I’m sure you were super brave to be out there in the first place. Manly Dan is bound to appreciate it. A big macho guy like that could do with accepting a friendly helping hand from time to time.”

“Maybe.” Pacifica picked up the amulet, then let it droop back down. Her mission in hunting the beast wasn’t entirely about soothing Corduroy’s ego. She wasn’t about to broach the subject in its entirety.

“I dated a Corduroy once.” Mabel tapped her chin in remembrance. Pacifica expected more of a reaction from Zera, since she was married to Mabel, but it garnered only a quick sidewards glance. They must be comfortable talking about past relationships, she surmised.

“Which one,” Pacifica asked, now she knew the topic wasn’t taboo. “Kevin or Gus?”

“You know, I'm not actually sure I remember.”

This cracked Pacifica up, and for the first time that day she started laughing out loud. The giggles she found herself overcome by were infectious, making Mabel join in as well.

“He was very shy. I don’t think he’d so much as talked to a girl beside his sister before. Boy, you shoulda seen the way his dick shrivelled up at the sight of my hoo-ha.”

Pacifica screwed up her face. “Mabel, you’re oversharing.” Her friend blushed and sank a little way so only her nose and eyes were visible above the water.

“My bad,” she gargled. “I’m still in girl talk mode I guess.”

“My fault,” Zera said, hand on heart.

Pacifica looked at the woman, her eyes crossing and uncrossing. Her brain must have been too distracted to focus as she noticed for the first time that Zera was in her human guise rather than displaying her true alien nature. “Hey, you’re wearing your perception filter,” she stated. Briefly her eyes unblurred and she saw Zera’s aquamarine scales in place of brown skin. Underneath the illusion she had all the bearing of a great white.

Zera scratched at her earlobe and the grey triangular earring that generated the effect. “Oh, yeah, sometimes May and I like to switch things up. Explore alternatives.” The alien woman bit her lip, unsure how far to go, but Mabel handily put her foot in it.

“It’s healthy to explore the bounds of our relationship. It’s really fun. Sometimes I even put the filter on and Zera sees me as an alien!”

“What does a S’aren version of Mabel Pines look like?” Pacifica asked Zera in a hushed whisper out of the side of her mouth.

“Like a perch and a halberd had a baby,” the alien replied, and Pacifica couldn’t be sure if her tone was derogatory or affectionate.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,” Pacifica said matter-of-factly, not wanting to get too deep into the details of her friend’s freaky sex life. “With the amount of different species Mabel’s courted of course you’d be into trying new things.”

“Yeah, you would not believe how easy it is to spice up your love life with a bit of magic. Who knew this town was the perfect place to find aphrodisiacs.”

“Mabel?” Pacifica interrupted.

“Yeah?”

“Too much info.”

“Oops, sorry again.”

Pacifica smiled, finding Mabel’s forgetfulness amusing for once. After the day she’d had she needed a bit of levity. “On the other hand, you managed to keep this little venture quiet.” She gestured back towards the house. It was a quaint two-storey cottage, built out of wooden planks with a sloping roof. A chimney poked out, giving the air of a secluded forest retreat. “You two are living out the ideal cottagecore lesbian experience. When did you move in?”

Mabel bore a sheepish grin, and her cheeks were a deeper red than any awkward conversation about her private life could bring out. “Last Tuesday.” As far as Pacifica had known Mabel and Zera had spent the weeks since New Year’s bouncing between various motels while arranging the move to Gravity Falls. She had no idea they were so far along in their plans. “I wanted to get the place nice and ready then bam- have a party or something. It was gonna be a huge surprise.”

“First you didn’t tell us about your wedding, now this. Secrets secrets.” She shook her head teasingly. “I guess it can still be a surprise for Mace and the kids. We can do a picnic or something, when it’s warmer. I'm sure you can come up with a classically ‘you’ way of revealing it.”

This raised Mabel’s mood and her blush started to fade. She whispered a thank you, glad to have the burden of lying, even over something so minor, out of the way. “How are you two and the kids anyway? We didn’t have much of a chance to catch up earlier.”

“Oh, the kids are…” She came up short, suddenly aware that this was something she didn’t want to discuss in depth. “...fine.” She searched for a way to deflect the topic. “What about you guys? Ever thought about kids?”

From their vacant glances the couple didn’t seem to have given it much thought. Zera shrugged. “We haven’t talked about it much.”

“Maybe someday,” Mabel added, “but not right now. It’d be so exciting, but there’s a lot going on, settling in, getting used to living together.”

“It can be shackling,” Pacifica said offhand in such a way to not raise further attention.

Mabel tapped her chin. “Though we have been thinking about opening things up a bit in another way.” Her eyebrows wiggled and her fingers tickled Zera’s shoulder. “You know, get someone else in on the dynamic. I don’t suppose… you know anyone, Paz?”

Pacifica blinked, then diplomatically said, “There are many things I’d do for you, Mabel, but I’m not helping you find a third.”

“And I thought you humans were meant to be open about your sexualities,” Zera said, though Pacifica could tell she was joking.

“Didn’t you two just get married three months ago?” Pacifica asked, slightly uneasy with the line of questioning.

“Yeah!” Mabel said as if not even conceiving of that being a problem.

Well, if it works for them, Pacifica thought with a shrug. Eager to move on, she said, “Back to your house, it looks pleasant at least. You’ve chosen a nice spot, and the design is inviting. I’d know. Though I will say your choice in decorations are a little… eclectic.”

Pacifica pointed to the roof, which was strewn with flashing coloured lights. There was even a cardboard sleigh pulled by straw reindeer. When Mabel went all out with decorating, she went all out. “I think you forgot the fact that Christmas was nearly a month ago.”

“Well, we moved in after Christmas ended, so we missed our chance to decorate. I had to make up for that devastating loss. In this house the decorations stay up ‘til February! That’s a Mabel promise!” She nodded vigorously, while Zera did the same with less energy. “Though the lights do keep attracting giant moths and Peek-a-blights. This town is great, but the locals can be annoying. I’ll have to create another unicorn shield when I have the time.“

“So you finally decided to settle in one spot,” Pacifica said with some respect. For some years now Mabel had been an itinerant, wandering not only this country, but all over the world. Even getting hitched hadn’t tied her down.

“My New Year’s Resolution was to make roots for myself. You know what my life’s been like.” Pacifica nodded. She was all too aware of Mabel’s ‘career’ in protesting corporations and the government. Taking a break from all that would probably do her some good. “I wanna help out with my protest groups, but made a promise to myself and to Zera to stick it out in one place for a year, maybe two, to see how it goes.”

“The great agitator, May Pines, finally calling it quits?”

“Not entirely. I’ve been running communication lines for contacts all up the West Coast. I’ve got invaluable tactical knowledge.”

“Let me guess: you know a guy who knows a guy, and your job is introducing other guys to those guys.”

“Got it in one, Paz.” She winked and pointed finger guns in Pacifica’s direction. “It’s not as satisfying as chucking a brick at a cop’s head, but it is probably more practical in the long run.”

Pacifica shook her head “I don’t get it. You're saving little ducklings crossing the street one minute and trying to tear down society the next.”

“Two sides of the same coin, sister. Can’t make a better world without a dash of compassion and a pinch of action.”

Something about the way Mabel talked about this stuff always confused Pacifica. On the one hand was the Mabel she’d known since childhood, happy-go-lucky and carefree, and on the other was some kind of tactical planner aiming to overthrow the government. It jarred, even as she was somewhat sympathetic to her aims.

Beneath all the sunshine and rainbows and smiles was a girl who wasn’t afraid to pack a mean punch. She probably got it from her conman of an uncle. Mabel had always been attracted to shady people. When Pacifica found out that her first serious boyfriend, an emo teenager, turned out to be a stack of gnomes out to woo her, suddenly everything about Mabel’s love life made perfect sense. Zera was no different, with her history scamming people beyond the stars. Pacifica wondered if she ever looked up at the night sky on nights like tonight and felt a pang of longing for where she’d grown up. Did Zera have the same conflicted emotions that she did towards a home that she both adored and reviled?

Pacifica didn’t know the answer. She did know that Zera and Mabel seemed happy together in married bliss, so she wasn’t about to judge them too harshly. She gave a single chuckle and ran her hand through a stream of bubbles. She enjoyed the sensation as it lightly massaged her tired joints. “Not bad for a day that started with a funeral,” she said idly to herself.

“That’s why we’re out here,” Mabel said, turning glum. “I got all depressed and miserable during the memorial earlier. Then we went and got ice cream for lunch and I felt way better!”

“Hooray for you,” Pacifica muttered under her breath.

“Plus we get to see the light show.”

Though the stars still illuminated the canopy above, Pacifica couldn’t see even a glimmer of a meteor trail. The girls had been unlucky tonight, missing the apogee of the cosmic event. As she watched the lights twinkle through the atmosphere, she felt a sudden twinge of guilt. Mentioning the funeral had been a mistake. It reminded her that somewhere up there, out in the vast omniversal web of time and space, Wendy had given her life to save this world.

“How do you do it, Mabel? How do you mourn someone you never truly knew when they were alive?”

“Say what now, Pacifica?” Mabel was caught off guard by this line of questioning.

“How do you deal with the fact those days are gone and you can never get them back no matter how hard you try? I missed my chance to understand her.”

“Are you talking about Wendy?” Zera asked, her first contribution to proceedings in a while. “I didn’t know her much either. Like, half an hour at best. Nor Eli,” she added for Mabel’s benefit. “It was a busy day.”

She stretched a hand over to Mabel, who planted a kiss on her knuckles. Mabel straightened her back. “Hey, we don’t need to get all mopey about that. Not when we’ve got a Turbo Deluxe, top of the range Minerva Spa 5000! With all the extra features!” She cranked a dial on the edge of the tub, sending out a forceful jet of bubbles right beneath where Pacifica was sitting. The water churned and swirled, forming a miniature whirlpool in the centre. “It’s got multicoloured mood lighting, directional controls on all of the vents, plus a complimentary seating deck and chairs, vibrating seat functions, a mini-fridge accessory…”

Listening to Mabel rattle off endless pointless facts about bubble flow and seating optimisation, Pacifica found herself entering an almost trance-like reverie. The comfortable warmth of the water made her muscles slacken and her mind spin in circles.

“I wish I cared as much as you,” she blurted out, cutting off Mabel in mid-flow.

“It’s never too late to get into hot tubs in a big way!”

“No, not about that.” Pacifica’s voice cut through the air. She’d had to raise her voice to be heard over the churning water. Mabel sat there opposite, slightly stunned. When she spoke again it was hoarsely. “I wish I could care as much as you can about anything. You always have so much passion for life. There are times I feel like I can barely match it. Mason has it too, the way he obsesses over his journals and investigating mysteries. I like doing a lot of things - I don’t know if I actually love any of them.”

Mabel waved a dismissive hand “Ah, We all get a little down at this time of the month.” She winked exaggeratedly.

Pacifica blinked in response. “N- No, Mabel- I’m not on my period.”

“Phew, that’s good. Me neither!”

Slightly baffled, Pacifica tried to steer the conversation back on track. “It’s not seasonal, I just… maybe I don’t wanna talk about it anymore.”

“That’s the thing with bleeding and cramps, yeah?” Zera asked. She leant towards Pacifica as if in explanation. “My body cycle is pretty different to a human’s.”

Pacifica glanced from Zera to Mabel and back, her mind uncomfortably racing with thoughts of alien anatomy. “Are you two even… compatible?” She tapped the ends of her fingers together while stifling a blush.

Mabel suddenly looked down at her with a serious expression. “What, you want to know if we were planning to spend all night scissoring til we pass out?”

“Ew, Mabel! That’s the grossest thing you’ve said all night.” She blushed uncomfortably and covered her face with a hand, leading Mabel to burst into giggles. “Don’t you have any kind of filter before you speak?” she shouted.

“Well sure. It was just funny to make you squirm.” Mabel splashed a handful of water in Pacifica’s direction, mindful to miss on purpose so as not to agitate her arm. “Come on, hot-tub time is the best for letting out all that kind of personal biz. We could play Truth or Dare or Don’t!”

Pacifica leant her head back so far she hit the edge of the hot-tub. “I hate that game. It’s nothing but pointless challenges or over-sharing things I’d rather keep to myself, and it fundamentally doesn’t work if anyone can opt out whenever they like! The last time we played it we were 17 for crying out loud!”

“I’ll take that as a ‘Don’t’, then,” Zera said.

“Oh, very droll.”

Mabel, fiddling with the dial to try to reduce the noise of the bubbles, spoke up. “You did indirectly end up dating my brother because of that game though. It made you so mad you stormed off and had that ‘quiet moment’ together where you ‘talked things out’.” Mabel made air quotes with her fingers. “Maybe we could talk things out now? If there’s something bugging you.”

“It’s nothing, I’m perfectly fine,” she lied, sinking into the water to try and hide her expression.

“Come on Paz. Five minutes ago you were getting all existential on us, with all the missed chances and mourning junk. Is this about Wendy? Or yourself?” Holding up her palms, Mabel stood up out of the water. “Look, you don’t have to say anything you don’t want to, but this is an accepting space where no-one will judge you.”

“I might judge you a little,” Zera said with a sly grin. Mabel kicked water in her face and shot her a dirty look. That only made Zera’s shark-like expression widen.

“The point is,” Mabel continued, “that we might be able to help. We won’t know how to do that unless you spill some beans.” She looked around for a can of beans to knock over but was disappointed.

Pacifica floated indecisively, face half in and half out of the water. “It’s… kind of a lot.” Mabel remained smiling, inviting her to speak her truth. “I…” After everything she’d been through today, what was one more risky step? “It’s the pregnancy,” she bluntly stated, and before either of the others could do anything but pull confused looks she carried on. “Yeah, I gave birth six months ago, I get it. But damnit, I still don’t feel normal again. I’m stuck with a body I can’t stand the sight of even though I’m fully aware it’s average at worst, and a baby I’m shackled to for the rest of my life.”

Mabel tried to interject but Pacifica wasn’t done. “It’s not a fairytale motherhood. It’s vomit, and shit, and crying, and staying awake all night terrified something might happen and regretting it and not regretting it… it’s too much.” She clasped a hand over her eyes and ran it through her hair. She breathed in and out. “I can handle Merrise. She’s mature enough to take care of herself most of the time. Just when I’m warming to one kid - bam! I get saddled with another of the little bastards.”

“Hey, don’t be like that,” Mabel reprimanded, more disappointed than angry. “You’re supposed to love Wendy. You always said she was such a blessing.”

“I know, and I do. That’s the problem. She’s the most important thing in my life and yet I’m repulsed by the thought of having to care for her and the way I’ve reacted. Look at me!” She angrily thrust herself towards Zera and Mabel, who tried to avoid staring. “I don’t know what you see but I see a freak. It’s not rational, it’s not pleasant, and it sure as fuck isn’t the way I want to feel about my appearance. I can’t help it. I’m… damaged goods.” She wrapped her arms around herself in as tight an embrace as she could manage.

There was a moment of silence, where the only sound was the humming of the hot tub. “Uh, maybe I should go inside?” Zera motioned to get out of the water but Mabel shot her down with a look and pulled her back.

Mabel spent a few seconds wringing her hands, then scooched around the edge of the hot tub, slowly moving to sit beside Pacifica. She reached to put an arm around her shoulders but held back when Pacifica flinched. A second later she tried again and held her friend in a light hug. They rocked together gently from side to side. “Oh Pacifica, baby. You don’t have to face it alone. Have you told-“

“Mason? Not yet, not ever if I can help it. It’s not like he doesn’t help out with the kids, he’s been a great father. But it’s not the same. He treats me like a goddess most of the time. The last thing I want is to be put on a pedestal.”

Zera mouthed something to Mabel, who similarly fired back, darting her eyes over to Pacifica to make her point. With a sigh Zera stayed where she was, grudgingly accepting whatever her wife had signalled. Mabel slowly stroked Pacifica’s hair.

“Your folks are back in the Cube again,” Mabel said.

Pacifica shot up straight and shifted a little away from Mabel. “So, so what? Why should I care?”

‘The Cube’ was their derogatory nickname for the modernist house the Northwest family had moved into after losing the manor. It was blocky and passionless, clad in grey and black that made it look like a concrete brick had been dropped in the middle of town. A high surrounding wall further removed it from the common inhabitants, though it couldn’t live up to the privileged position the family had once commanded. The Northwests now spent their time moving around, living for certain months here and the rest of their time at a beachfront property in Los Angeles. They had never been fond of the town, with its magic always uncomfortably intruding, treating it more as an obligation than a home.

Mabel shrugged. “Just making conversation,” she said half-heartedly, and Pacifica could tell her words had a deeper meaning.

“Don’t gimme that bull. Are you trying to set me off?”

“It might work to redirect your emotions. You can start by analysing how your negative thoughts all feed back to one source.”

“Mabel, I already know my parents were terrible. For crying out loud, they’re corporate ghouls! They basically abused me!”

“I know. But they don’t have anything to do with your life anymore. You don’t have to carry around some bitter hatred for them everywhere you go. You can just… let it go.” Mabel put her hands over her heart. “I’m not saying you have to forgive them, that would be awful of me.”

Pacifica rolled her eyes into the back of her skull. “Oh yeah, cause it’s so easy to come to terms with! It’s alright when you reconcile with your parents. They aren’t fundamentally awful people!” She pressed her fists against her forehead. “Maybe those assholes had a point. The greedy little girl who can’t even be satisfied when everything in her life falls into place. When am I gonna get it through my thick skull that I’m a broken piece of property!” Her hands began to tremble. Her next words were choked out. “Or is even that too grandiose? Why can’t it ever be simple? Can’t I be allowed to feel this way without a sense of entitlement. Or am I a narcissist raised by narcissists?”

“Neither. You’re better than that now though!” Mabel’s voice was insistent, trying to get her to pierce through the haze of doubt. “You’re totally nice.”

“Don’t act like I’ve done a complete 180,” she spat. “I still act all superior to people. You might not see it but there are times when I treat people like dirt.”

“Like how you’re treating yourself, right now?” Pacifica recoiled as if she’d been slapped in the face. She made to give a retort but Mabel shut her up. “They’re still acting through you, your dear old mom and dad. You can’t let them Paz. Imagine how you’d react if, say, your mom insulted me.”

She chuckled weakly. “I’d probably start a shouting match.”

Mabel grinned. “That’s the Pacifica I know. Who don’t take no guff from nobody! Not even her own self-doubt! It’s never stopped you before.” Pacifica stared down through the water at herself, floating in the bubbling pool. “You can’t get trapped inside a bubble. Trust me, I’ve been there. Literally.”

“Ever since I was born I’ve been trapped,” Pacifica replied morosely. She was then hit by a counter wave of emotion, making her feel vain for treating her life in such a way. She tried to push through and verbalise. “My parents moulded me into a perfect little clone to do their bidding. I was smothered in femininity from day one, all those expensive dresses and jackets and boots. All a means to make me constantly doubt my own self-image.”

“But I thought you like wearing pretty outfits?” Mabel was struggling to keep up with all the reversal her friend was laying out.

“I do! But do I like them because of me, or because my parents forced me to like it?”

“Why does it matter? You left them behind a long time ago. They don’t get to ruin your life now they aren’t a part of it.” Mabel hit a fist into the water. “You don’t have to follow what they tried to instil in you. You didn’t when you walked out on them at 17! You didn’t when you got married to someone they’d never choose!”

“I don’t know, Mabel. It’s like I’m in quicksand with no way out. Every time I have a pang of disdain my brain makes me guilty for being so dramatic and it makes me feel even worse. I can’t even be depressed without my privilege mucking it up. I don’t think this is something you can fix with ice cream.”

“Then we’ve gotta start with something we can fix, and work our way out from there.” Mabel held her arms open, inviting her in for a hug. Pacifica wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and let herself be enveloped in a warm embrace. “I know what we can focus on.” Mabel pointed at the bird’s skull. “I get why you’re out here in the middle of the night chasing a rumour. Your family and the Corduroys - there’s bad blood there. I think you wanted to do your part to reach across the aisle, to prove you really aren’t like the Northwests who came before. Like when you pulled that lever at the party all those years ago. No wonder you’re feeling that way, with all the memories of Wendy swarming around. It must be maddening, huh?”

Pacifica broke the hug and stared Mabel in the eye. She often looked down on her friend due to a perception of lower intelligence - another symptom of the huge ego bestowed on her by her privileged upbringing no doubt. While Mabel might not know a lot of technical jargon, she could be skilled and practical, as well as keenly emotionally intelligent. That explained her cavalier attitude to certain topics this evening. She was paving the way, subtly opening up the conversation so as to lead Pacifica into being more comfortable with serious matters. As conversational strategies went it was novel, she could acknowledge that much.

She gave a stuttering laugh. “Alright Mabel. I think I’ve had enough of pouring my heart out to you. I’m ready to try whatever you have on offer.”

“If I might offer a suggestion,” Zera said tentatively, probably afraid of triggering another breakdown from Pacifica. After how she’d acted, Pacifica couldn’t blame her. “If you want to do something practical you could finish tracking down this Unshriven thing. It sounded like something you wanted to follow through to the end. Just a thought.”

“I wish I knew how to. I tried taking a swing at it but when I tried a second time my attack went straight through. Like attacking a cloud of mist. Maybe it’s for the best. I mean, you guys saw those tusks. I would hate to be on the wrong end of them.” Mabel and Zera shared uncomprehending looks, causing Pacifica to frown. “Wait, you guys did see it right? It rubber-banded over your fence right before I fell in your pool.”

Mabel glanced at the fence and pursed her lips. “Paz, there was nothing there before you blundered in out of nowhere.”

“But then- It must have been this.” She pinched the amulet between two fingers to show it to the couple. The gemstones in the empty eyes sockets once again failed to share any answers. “This was supposed to let me find the Unshriven. Corduroy had said it had special properties. It allowed me to track the creature… but then what? Fat lot of good it does me if I can’t fight it.”

Mabel scratched her chin, unsure of how to help. She was satisfied that her friend had a practical goal to help her overcome, or at least overlook, her issues for now. “If an aggressive killer draugr monkey shits in the woods but there’s no-one around to see it, was it really there?”

“It wasn’t a monkey.”

“Huh?” Mabel felt that Pacifica had taken offence to the wrong part of the statement.

“Monkeys have tails. This was an ape. Maybe that’s the point?”

“You’ve lost me completely now,” Mabel said.

Pacifica ignored her and turned the osprey skull around so the base was facing outwards rather than the top of the head. “It’s a philosophical point. If the Unshriven is a being of higher consciousness then perhaps I’ve not got a clear enough mind. Maybe that’s why I couldn’t hit it more than once? A failure of perception.”

Mabel followed her trail to its conclusion. “So if it’s some kind of 5th dimensional thingy then it sounds like you need some way to operate on the same level.”

Pacifica smiled and let the skull hang loose. “Thanks Mabel, but I doubt you can help. We probably need some kind of dream ritual from the journal.”

“That’s where you’re wrong sister, I’ve got exactly what you need.”

“Unless it’s a magic potion then I doubt it.”

Mabel waggled her eyebrows. “Oh, it’s a potion alright.” Pacifica’s frown at Mabel’s next words was probably visible in the next state over. “Ever heard of a little something called LSD?”