#this one took much longer that it should have

[lucimaaie]

we ✧.* tlou

pairings - santa barbara!ellie x reader

summary - ellie promised herself she wouldn’t get attached to anyone after santa barbara, look how that turned out.

warning - angsty, not proofread cause i wrote this pretty quick, short (as always),

After Santa Barbara, Ellie had no plan for the future. She’d left Dina and JJ and let Abby go. She knew would still have nightmares and the pain wouldn’t leave her. What else was there to do?

Maybe that was the reason she fought you as you tried to take care of her. “Leave me alone!” She said as you’d tried to help her up from the water, raising her arm around your neck. Thinking about it now, the memory of her weak attempt to tussle you made her laugh.

You fought as hard as she did despite being starved and traumatized yourself. She didn’t know your story, just that you were the only one who didn’t want to kill her as soon as you came out of that crowded cell. You knew that she was immune and that was it. Nothing else was important in the moment. Nothing she wanted to tell you anyway.

You took care of her so much she started to feel guilty for not returning the favor. Cleaning her wounds, taking first watch, giving her whatever food you two had left. Ellie questioned whether it was pity or too good to be true, that you’d try something the moment she relaxed. But as she got stronger, nothing bad happened. You cared for her all the same.

So she cared for you. She watched your back and let you sleep a bit longer since she knew her mind wouldn’t let her sleep. She held you the way you held her when she awoke screaming. Gave you light kisses everywhere to distract you (and her) from a haunting past she knew nothing of. Conversations weren’t your speciality. You didn’t know a lot about each other, but you knew each other.

Eventually, you got lucky and found an abandoned cabin far away from Santa Barbara and quickly settled in. It wasn’t big and there was one bed, but it was shelter. Ellie didn’t want to call it home just yet.

“We should move south.” Ellie blurted, shaking the snow off her boots onto the porch. She could already hear your lecture about letting the cold in, but that wasn’t her focus. Did she just say we? “I mean, nevermind. Here’s fine.” It wasn’t. It was cold as hell and she was tired of the cold she’d been in her whole life.

“No, why south?” You said as you adjusted the small sticks that provided at least a little warmth in the small space. Ellie came to sit down next to you, leaving no space between you. She looked at you, admiring how the orange light shone on your face.

“It’s hotter.” She held your gaze as you listened intently. “Probably make hunting easier.” Ellie knocked her shoulder into yours without much force.

“You ever been south?”

She shrugged before shaking her head. “Nope.” She looked at the fire. That might be a downside of south. No more needing to snuggle up to you to not freeze to death. South you probably have to give each other some space to cool off. “Was just a thought.” She scratched her ear. “What’d you do while I was out?”

“Counted our supply. put on the fire. cleaned our clothes. a bunch of nothing.”

“What about eating?”

“uh-no. forgot that part.”

“Course you did.” She sighed, rising to her feet and look around for the bag you two stuff all cans in. All your belongings in the cabin were generally pre-packed in case you had to run, but still the fact that you’d been able to accumulate these things together made her feel something she couldn’t describe. Annoyance was part of it. that she got so attached to you after she promised herself she wouldn’t. that it just complicated things. But that already happened the moment you’d kissed and let things go further.

“here.” She used her knife to open the can of beans and sat back next to you, handing them over.

“you do know we sleep in the same bed, right?” You hesitantly took the can and swished them around with the spoon.

“trust me i know, but i don’t need you losing body fat and clinging to me like a koala.”

“you’ve never even seen a koala.” You said, taking a bite of the beans. not bad but not good and most importantly not expired. You set the can down in the middle of you, signaling that you wanted to share. She shook her head and sighed as you pushed the can closer to her, your eyes saying ‘please.’ She took a small bite just to appease you and shoved it over to you. “just shut up and eat.” she swiped her thumb over the edge of your lip. “and stop eating like that. we’ll get you more food tomorrow.”

Hours later, ellie shot up in the middle of the night, her heart feeling like it would burst out of her chest at any moment. She choked on her own breaths as she buried her head into her knees. “it’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real—“ She mumbled the same words you did when you saw her like this.

“ellie?” You sat up as well, watching her with concerned eyes. She started to sob as she heard your voice, whether out of fear or relief you didn’t know but you didn’t give it much thought as you ran your fingers through her hair, letting her cry in your lap.

Eventually her tears stopped, leaving her with a pounding head and the comforting silence you provided. Her head rose from your lap and she pulled you into her, not willing to let go. Her head rested on your shoulder as her hands roamed under your shirt. There were no words for a while.

When there were words, they came quietly. “el?” you whispered. She didn’t respond for a while, still stuck in her swarming thoughts. “yeah?”

“where are you from?” It felt like a random question to ask, but there was no way you were gonna ask what she dreamed about.

She blinked for a few seconds, surprised. It was a simple question, yeah, but it could lead to other questions. she was scared to answer and ask back. “boston, i guess.”

“oh.”

“why’d you ask?” She let her head fall back on the pillow and tugged on your shoulder, silently asking you to turn around. And you did, facing her.

“i guess i just realized i never knew that stuff about you.” You said, fidgeting with her hands as you awaited her response. It felt like some dangerous territory, you weren’t supposed to cross. That was weird, you already crossed other, farther lines. “should i have not asked?” You whispered, tentatively.

“no, you..” She cleared her throat. “you can ask.” She finally looked at you, eyes soft with fear, pain. “i just..i don’t wanna talk about it all.”And go back there, she wanted to say.

“you don’t have to.” You scooted closer to her, laying your head on her shoulder.

Elie wrapped her arms around your back, her legs around yours, and looked at you. She let out a deep sigh as her heart beat for a different reason this time. “we don’t have to talk about it all. not right now.” we, there was a we. she wasn’t make it up. “okay,” She kissed your forehead.

thank you for reading!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mission Control 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, violence, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Captain Hydra

Summary: a man marches into your life on a mission

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Height?” The officer taps the nib on his notepad. 

“Ugh, tall. Er,” you keep your hand on your head. It still throbs. “Um, six foot something? He had to be bigger.” 

“Right,” he squints. “Blond, blue eyes, and a scar. Dressed in all black...” he reads it over. “And he didn’t say anything?” 

“No, sir, I told you. Did you check with security? There's cameras--” 

“Nothing there. Checked all the footage. Some glitch. Guy’s not sure. Not his problem, I guess. Paid minimum wage to sit in a room,” he scoffs. “We can file the report but we can’t do much else. No footage, no proof--” 

“No proof? Look at my head. He ripped my hair out!” You whine. 

“Yeah, well, I’ve seen worse. Should count yourself lucky he left you alive,” he says. 

You shake your head and drop your arm, “uh... thanks, I guess.” 

“Look,” he exhales. “I really don’t have much to go on but this guy sniffs around again, call. File another report.” 

“Right,” you agree glumly. “Thank you, officer.” 

He shrugs, “have a good night. You want me to stick around while you lock up.” 

“It’s fine, I wouldn’t want to waste any more of your time.” 

You sniff and turn around. You’re not surprised by his indifference or his answers. You have friends who had men pounding on their doors and the same reaction. You saw police arresting drunk girls instead of the guys who cornered them in the bathroom. There isn’t much anyone can do, it seems. Especially not you. 

You go through the closing list. You know it by rote but that night, you’re uncertain. You check the clipboard that hangs behind the counter. You’re fractured. The whole world feels like it’s strewn before you. Nothing fits together. You feel like you’re disconnected from your own body. 

God, your head hurts. 

You stop and open up the front camera on your phone. You look at the bald patch again. Near the back. You can’t really see it head on but it’s there. Or not. He just... did that? He took a part of you. 

You close your phone and put it in your pocket. You pull on your jacket and hike your bag onto your shoulders. As you do, the Pom Pom falls onto the floor. You tossed it on top but didn’t hook it on. You pick it up, quivering. That man... did he find it or take it? 

You squeeze it and grab the keys from the hook. You pull the gate across the store front and lock it. You turn to face the empty mall. 

The idea of going out into the dark and waiting for the bus is the same as scaling a mountain with your bare hands. You make yourself move. The longer you wait, the more likely you’ll miss it.  

Your steps echo around you. You flinch and glance over your shoulders, back and forth, even spinning to make sure you’re alone. 

How are you supposed to do this? After what he did to you. Did he just see you on the bus and decide to mess with you? How did he track you to the store? You had your jacket on, he couldn’t see your name tag or uniform. You didn’t have your badge out. 

You can’t figure any of it out. Would it matter if you could. 

You slow down as you approach the doors. You look out and see the bright signs for the businesses housed in the mall and the other plazas close by, headlights shining along the street. You push through the first door and stand in the vestibule. 

You still have the fluffy pom pom in your hand. You unhook your bag from one shoulder and hook it on. You trade the store keys for your house keys and poke one out between your fingers. You’re on your own. 

You walk out into the night. You don’t stop. You almost jog across the lot out to the bus stop by the road. You duck into the shelter, the lights keeping you safe in their glow. Or so you hope. 

The bus pulls up only a few minutes after. Your relief flows out of your chest as you scan your pass. You find a seat at the back and sit. You want to see everyone else. 

The tires grind the gravel and veer back onto the road. They slow again at the next stop around the corner. You watch the passenger turn and you know him in an instant. He stalks down the center of the bus and climbs the steps up to the back level. He does just as he did that morning. 

He sits beside you. You can’t move or speak. You can’t believe it. 

He must know that no one else cares. He’s counting on it. You’re breathless as you shake, your ribs wracked as adrenaline burns through you. 

“Why?” You quaver weakly. He doesn’t answer. You lean away from him and touch your head, grazing your tender scalp. “Please, why me?”  

Still nothing. 

“Why are you doing this?” You whimper. 

He closes his eyes and lifts his chin. His hand moves from his leg onto yours and he squeezes. You tremble as his fingertips dig into your flesh. 

“Please, stop!” You cry out and slap his hand. 

No reaction. What is wrong with him? You wriggle and look at your other hand; the key poking out from your fist. You bring it down towards his hand but he’s fast. He retracts his touch and the key sinks into your thigh muscle. You screech, and he reaches across to tug the cord. 

“What’s going on back there?” The driver hollers back as he stops. 

The man stands and marches away. He doesn’t answer the driver or look back. He steps off the bus and you watch him through the window. He almost fades into the dark as he delves into the shadows of the buildings.  

“Knock it off,” the driver warns as he puts his foot on the pedal. 

You puff between your teeth and look around at the other passengers; deafened by headphones and ear buds, engrossed in their screens and pages. There’s at least ten other riders yet you’re all alone. 

You look down. You quaking as you let go of the key and it sticks out of your leg. You cringe and grasp it as tight as you can. You hold your breath as you rip it out. Argh.  

That officer was right. You’re lucky he didn’t do worse. 

[roosterforme]

Okay, but how about the first time Jake and Darling have a fight? How would that go?

I really like your stories bc while it is fiction, I feel like you show every aspect of a relationship, not only the good parts.

🩷

OMG, nonny. I'm swooning. I try to make my stories realistic (as much as they can be for fanfic). Nobody is happy and confident all the time. Everyone is stressed about something. Relationships are hard work, and dealing with someone else is sometimes weird and annoying. So thank you, I appreciate that so much.

Jake and Darlin' argue all the time about all the small things in life. They have different opinions on a lot of things, but it's never usually anything they remember by the next day. I think their first big fight would happen shortly after she moves in with him, just after she graduates from school and starts her new job. (angsty below).

"I had the longest day at work," you muttered, shoveling the last bite of the dinner Jake made into your mouth. You set your fork down and stretched as you stood. This whole week was dragging. You realized you were probably complaining more than usual, but you were just over it. "Let's go take a bath and just go to bed. I'll clean up tomorrow morning."

Jake looked at you, his lips pressed into a firm line. "Go ahead. I'll clean it up."

You reached for his hand, but he was already stacking the plates. "You cooked. I don't want you to clean up. I'll do it later," you reiterated.

"Just go get in the bath," he snapped, carrying everything back to the kitchen.

"I don't want to take a bath without you!"

Jake dumped everything into the sink and spun around. "You're not the only one who's working full-time, but you're certainly acting like it."

With narrowed eyes, you asked, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Jake took a deep, practiced breath and let it out slowly. "I know you're tired, but it would be nice for you to acknowledge that I work longer hours than you do. So just go relax in the bath by yourself while I clean up."

"Well, now I don't want to!" You were suddenly so angry, you couldn't see straight, and you also wanted to cry. "You're treating me like a child!"

"You're acting like one."

His words hurt you more than a slap across your cheek would have, and your jaw dropped open. But then his next sentence made it even worse.

"In my house no less."

"Wow," you gasped, turning and running toward the bedroom as you started crying. It wasn't like you weren't paying to be here. You knew it wasn't much, but you had been insistant about giving Jake five hundred dollars per month. And for what? So he could act like you were an unwanted guest?

You ran into the bathroom and slammed the door behind you before you curled up on the tub mat on the floor and sobbed. Work wasn't like school. Trying to figure out how you fit in with your coworkers was exhausting, and you were still learning all the ropes. You drove back here every day mentally drained, and up until tonight, Jake was always the one who seemed willing to listen. You should have just cleaned up the kitchen, because now you felt like you didn't belong anywhere.

"Darlin'." Jake's voice was as sharp as his knock on the door. You tried to dry your tears, but it wasn't working, and maybe you really were a child compared to your boyfriend. "Darlin'!"

"It's not even locked!" you shouted, but it came out as weak as you felt. Jake opened the door, and in an instant, he was curled up on the floor with you, pulling you into his arms.

"Fuck. I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry I acted like an asshole." You tried to wriggle away from him, but he wouldn't let you. "I think I'm more exhausted this week than I'd like to admit, and I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

In spite of the fact that you were on the floor crying, you mustered up the courage to whisper, "I'm not a child."

"You're an adult," he said firmly. "An adult who just started a very impressive job. You're holding it together better than I did when I was in flight school." He kissed your forehead. "And you're absolutely right. We should have just climbed in our bathtub and then gone right to our bed. The fucking dishes do not matter right now. They can sit in our kitchen sink until whenever the fuck we feel like cleaning up."

Jake rubbed slow, soothing circles against your lower back until you were all cried out. If you thought you were tired before, it was nothing compared to how wrung out you felt now. You wanted to put forth a peace offering and just get up and clean the kitchen, but his lips were on your damp cheek and his voice was in your ear. "I love you, Darlin'. It has been a long week for both of us. I would like nothing more than to climb in a hot bath with you, relax until the water gets cold, and then get in our bed and go to sleep."

You nodded and started the water while he got two towels ready, and then both of you undressed. Jake kissed your bare shoulder and held you while the tub filled. "You belong here," he whispered. "I don't want you anywhere other than our house."

[aethien11-blog]

NOTE: I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THESE CHARACTERS. (Also, I’m a sappy, silly, dork at times. Sorry not sorry.) I took some liberties when it came to JJK as I’ve only seen the two seasons on crunchy roll and kinda ran with it. Sorry if that’s upsetting.

The boys reactions to learning their s/o has been kidnapped

Fem Reader x : Sakuna, Megumi, Nanami, Itadori

WARNINGS: use of ‘naughty words’, mentions of blood, rape, mutilation, death, violence, and possible spoilers.

RYOMEN SUKUNA

The King of Curses was phased by nothing. Your presence (or lack of) wasn’t that important. He could go a day without you, without thinking of you.

Ryomen snarled. And yet here he was again for the fifth time this hour wondering how much longer you planned to take. Just how long did humans need to visit family for anyway? What was so damned special about it? 

“Great One!” Uraume immediately knelt beside him. 

“Uraume?” His four eyes blinked once before, “Where is y/n? Waiting my room?” It was a pleasant thought but his battle instinct said otherwise. 

“Forgive me, Great One. Lady y/n,” Uraume stiffened.

“Don’t keep me in suspense,” he snarled.

“Forgive my error. Lady y/n was taken, my Lord.”

“Taken?”

Maybe it was fear, maybe a blush that lit Uraume’s face. “Yes. Lady- lady y/n sent me away briefly so she could speak with her family. Apparently, I make them uncomfortable.” It was only a moment but it felt like an eternity passed before she spoke again. “I should have sensed it. I apologize for my error, Great One.” “What are you yapping about? And where is she?” Ryomen roared. 

It was impossible to still the tremble that shot through her body. “I don’t know where she is, Lord Sukuna. Only that she sent me away. I stepped to the door, heard something, turned and she was gone. Every member of her family were slaughtered in that moment.” Uraume trembled again. “I don’t know, my Lord.”

“Her body was not among the dead?” It didn’t hurt. He wouldn’t say that. His chest just moved weird when he asked. It wasn’t like his heart could actually hurt over this.

“She was not, my Lord.”

“Hm. I should have figured. You would have brought me a corpse at least, if that were the case.” 

“Your trust is flattering, my Lord.”

“Hmph. Find out who took her and what they want. You have one day.”

“My lord.” Uraume disappeared from his sight quickly then.

Yes. It didn’t matter if you were gone a whole day. He wouldn’t allow it to affect him but hell was coming for the creature that disrupted his plans for the evening. 

*******************************************

“Wow. I’ve seen stupid before, but you’re something else.”

“Ssshhh ut up, human.” The creature’s hissing speech was irritating enough but if this thing thought it stood a chance. “Or I’ll shh, cut out that ssstupid tongue.”

You giggle. “As if. Lord Sukuna will turn you into kibble.” Briefly you scrunch your brows before wondering out loud, “I wonder if Uraume has fed his pets yet today.”

A blade appeared, pressed to your lips. “Sssssh ut it!”

You can’t help but smile and lick the flat of it. “You don’t stand a chance.”

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

“Why are we being called in?” Megumi asked in his usual uninterested tone.

“The higher ups have a stick up their ass and they want us to pull it out…probably,” Gojo sniped before finishing with a grin. 

Megumi rolled his eyes. One day, his teacher was going to step too far and those same higher ups were likely to come down on him but today wasn’t the day…probably.

The doors came open as Megumi, Yuji, Nobara, and Saturo stepped close. “There is no time for greetings. Seat yourselves and let’s begin.”

“Well, nice to see you too,” Saturo Gojo sniped with a smile. “Whaddya got for us?”

Heavy sighs echo through the small room before a woman’s voice said, “Watch.” On a screen on the side of the room, a newscast was being played.

As soon as the reporter switched to the scene behind them, three sets of eyes turned to Megumi. He didn’t notice. His eyes were glued to yours looking up him through the screen. 

To say Megumi was used to loss was fairly accurate. He accepted loss was a part of every mission and pretty much expected it… but that was no excuse for you to go and get yourself captured by curse user. 

The demands were that one person alone was to deliver their required ransom for you (another cursed object that should never leave the school) or they would turn you into their newest curse. Worse, they made the demand publicly, ensuring the higher ups couldn’t just sweep their request (and you) under the rug. 

What none of them expected was that Megumi would volunteer to be the one to deliver their ransom. Or that he would have a plan to get you back without having to give up the cursed item.

********************************************************

These fuckers were in for a hell of a surprise. You weren’t worth anything and you knew it. Just some orphan left in the care of the state to manage a life that had thus far amounted to little. For fuck sake, you only graduated high school last year and who in their right mind tries to take a cafe barista as a hostage. These guys were nuts. 

But hearing what they demanded and their threats just riled you. No, you weren’t worth some great value but you’d be damned if they were doing a single thing to you without a fight. 

KENTO NANAMI

The steady clack of keys on keyboards was near deafening as the entire office echoed it. Blank faces stared at bright screens as the sun sank behind the horizon. Another day of boring repetitive garbage. 

Nanami stood from his desk, collecting his things in his usual slow and perfectly controlled manner. At least y/n should be ready by the time he got there. He had worked a little late, but then, you usually took an extra minute to close up shop. 

Nanami smiled to himself as he lifted his briefcase and slid his laptop in. You always made him a special set of bread as the last one of the day so it would be fresh and warm even after you both got back to his apartment. Maybe he should ask, no no. He shook his head and set his usual expressionless face back in place. No need to think of that right now.

Kento set his briefcase in the back seat before sliding into his car and starting it. Safer that way. You had a tendency to ‘chuck it’ into the back seat if it were in your way. The edges of his mouth curled into a smile. Anyone else and he would have been ticked about tossing an expensive laptop about like that but when you did it, it was cute. And even if it weren’t, the grin you give him after certainly was.

He barely managed to get the grin back under control by the time he was pulling up to your shop only to freeze as he parked. The glass door was shattered, the shop inside showing obvious signs of a struggle. 

Nanami felt like his blood was pumping through his body at several miles a minute then. On the outside, Kento was entirely calm as he slowly unbuckled and stepped out of his car. Only those that knew him would notice the difference. The way his fists tightened, the set of his jaw, or the measured gait he adopted as he stepped through the broken entrance. 

His eyes scanned the scene and picked up the single scrawled note with ease. 

“Want her, come get her.”

The paper crumpled in his fist before he shifted his attention to tracing the energy. They would pay for making him work overtime.

****************************************************

Much as you would love to (continue to) tell these guys off, one of them had already stuffed a sock in your mouth and duct taped it there. That didn’t really stop you though as you continued to hurl insults through your gag.

“Geez. If this guy doesn’t hurry up, I’m gonna kill the broad just to shut her up,” one of your captors grumbled. 

“Mmm mmnnnm mmm mm.” Your attempted snarl did little through your gag, and it wasn’t like you could fight back now. These jerks may be asses but they knew how to tie knots. Between the chafing on your upper arms and wrists, you had tested every way you could think of to get loose and were only too glad you had worn pants today instead of a skirt. 

YUJI ITADORI

Having adopted his mentor's distaste for meetings, Yuji trudged into the room with a heavy sigh. “Do we have to?” he whined.

You could just give up control and I could kill them all, Sukuna suggests amiably but Yuji ignores him.

Nobara slaps the back of his head. “You already know the answer to that. Sit down.”

Megumi barely managed not to smile before taking his seat. He blinked owlishly for a moment before the friendly wave confirmed his suspicion. “You’re here too?”

Yuta smiled. “Yeah. I’ll let them explain everything.”

“Must be pretty big if they called both of you here,” Yuji said with a grin as he looked between Yuta and Gojo. 

“You know it. Three first years are missing after being sent in and we’re going to go save them,” Gojo stated.

Sighs echo around the room. “Let’s begin the actual mission brief.” All eyes shifted to the screen. Typed out quickly was the message from Tengen. “Earlier this morning, three first year Jujutsu students, Eimo Makito, Rugi Kamisari, and y/n, were accompanied by two third years, Panda and Toge Inumaki, to subdue or suppress whatever was causing the disappearances over Lake Tazawa’s area. The reported incidents originally listed this as a Class 3 curse at best, but with our newest information, we believe there may be more than one special grade at work, making it appear lower to continue to deceive us. We can no longer rule it out.”

Yuji had stopped reading at your name and his eyes were glued to it until Megumi elbowed him lightly to draw his attention back to the meeting. 

You’re okay, right? This doesn’t mean you're dead. Just that….you’re missing.

“We currently do not know if any of the students are alive or not. The veil we placed has been encompassed by a stronger one and we have no way to get information in or out.”

“So we’re going in blind. My specialty,” Gojo stated with a grin.

Yuta chuckled beside him. “We can handle this-”

“I’m coming too,” Yuji shouted and everyone stilled before Gojo’s chuckle released some of the tension in the room. 

“Plan to be a knight and go save your princess?”

“It’s not just about y/n,” Yuji stated, though his blushing ears decried otherwise. “Panda and Toge are there too. We have to save them if we can.”

“You know they might already be dead.” Gojo just wanted to make sure it was clear, that Yuji wasn’t holding out hope on this one.

“I won’t believe it until I see it.”

“Gre-at,” Megumi sighed and face palmed. “It's the detention center all over again.”

“Sorry, Itadori,” Yuta began. “But you can’t-”

“I’m coming too,” Yuji repeated. 

“Nuh-uh, kid,” Gojo said standing up. “I’ll let you come with us, but you are staying out side the barrier, you understand. You want to make sure everyone is safe, that’s fine. But you will keep yourself and Sukuna out of that barrier, clear?”

Despite the blindfold being on, Yuji could feel the blue eyes of his teacher boring into him. 

Finally he sighed in defeat. “Fine. I’ll wait outside the barrier. But,”

“No buts, or you're not going and I’ll leave you chained up here.”

Yuji’s silence to follow was taken for acquiescence. 

*****************************************************

You blink your eyes open to an unfamiliar sight. The barrier above you seems almost black and the shimmering in it makes you want to vomit after looking at it for a moment. Like staring at trees outside a moving car window. You roll and tuck your left arm up. You're able to move it but the bone in your forearm is definitely broken. 

Your eyes land on Panda as you sit up. “How’s he doing?” you whisper through the pain. 

Panda smiles sadly at you. “He’ll be fine. Just needs a bit to get his throat to stop bleeding.”

“I’m sorry, Toge.”

Toge shook his head and smiled sadly at you. “Bonito flakes.” It even sounded choked and you felt your eyes water. He must be in incredible pain. 

You three were lucky. Eimo and Rugi weren’t as fortunate. You had to come up with some kind of plan to get out of here, but if these two didn’t have anything how could you?

“Fuck!” you curse under your breath.

“Salmon.” 

That at least got you to smile and you can tell that was his intention. You would get out of this. Together.

Again a quick and sincere thank you to Miss Vry (@vrystalius) for helping me with tags :D

[dilf-rot]

Avoidant Attachment

based on Anon request :  could you do a fic of meeting Logan and wade in the void and joining the team? Logan and you are into each other but are kinda awkward hide behind being mean to each other wades so over it later on smuttt <3333

Word Count: 5841 

Tags: Wolverine x Reader, Worst!Wolverine x Reader, Logan howlett x Reader, Fem!Reader (kinda?), Wade is here too, Meeting in the Void, Deadpool 3, Deadpool and Wolverine, Laura is Also here, 5 people in a one bedroom apartment is a great idea, Althea is here briefly, dogpool mention, slower burn but like not really, mutual pining, Wade and Laura as wingmen, insults as flirting, eventual smut, One bed trope included, P in V, Riding

AN: This one took a lot longer than I was expecting, probably since I haven’t written Wade before and I didn’t want it to suck, and also because I was quite busy irl. Regardless, thank you for the request and your patience, Hope you don’t mind my interpretation of the prompt<3

MDNI 18+

—------------------

The Void. Boring as Hell, and yet somehow worse than hell. At least Hell would grant you company, shitty company, but better than the dust and trash here. You don’t even remember why you got put here. Probably some bullshit you weren’t even responsible for. You had a pretty lame set up, just a hole in the ground really. And you’d find garbage to shift through, look for food. You had managed to do pretty well on your own for a decent amount of time. Other than being lonely, and the occasional breakdown, things weren’t so bad.

The air was stale and unremarkable, as was the sky, no sign of oncoming doom or any excitement for the day. Or so you thought. 

Over the horizon of dusty dirt and forgotten garbage, appeared two silhouettes. 

As they approached, inching closer and closer you debated on whether you should interact or just ignore, they didn’t seem like they had been here long. 

You watched closely waiting for your moment to make a move. Listening to them as they approached.

Deadpool. Common, usually annoying. 

But the one with him. That’s a rather rare sight. You had never seen one of him before.

They seemed like they were on a mission, maybe trying to escape from here. If you could escape, maybe you could return to something approaching a normal life again. 

You decide to take the chance.

“Hello,” You pop out from your little shelter. Both men jolt into action, blades and guns drawn. The man in yellow, the interesting rare man, had blades coming out of his hands. “Oh no, not a threat.” 

They regard each other and then put the weapons away.

“Knew I smelt something,” his voice was rough and it added to his appeal for sure. 

“And you didn’t want to say anything? Some blood hound you are!” Deadpool spoke, punching the gruff one in the shoulder.

“Sorry, I know you’re a Deadpool. But you are?” You point to him. 

“Logan,” “Wolverine,” they speak out in tandem. 

“Right, so… what’re you doing this far out?” 

“Not telling you random dirt dweller,” Deadpool looked back towards Logan, and seemed to be weighing his options.

“Ok well, if you decide to be friendly I could offer my help.”

“You don’t look like you’d be of much help,” Logan retorted as he looked you over. You were obviously smaller and not as strong as either of them, but you had some tricks up your sleeve.

“Ouch, I would be offended if you didn’t have hair like kitty ears.” You pointed up at Logan’s hair and he seemed surprised by your response. “I’ve been in the void longer than you, I’m sure I know some things that would be useful to you,”

“Listen, Kid-”

“Yeah, me and Kitty Cat here are trying to get back at that bald freak show of a woman and escape this hell. So unless you know how to do that, I’d stay out of it, dust bunny.” 

You laugh and look at the state of them, confused but still combative, barely holding it together and hardly friends. “That’s a good one. Good luck with Cassandra then, Ketchup and Mustard.”

Deadpool gasps and Logan seems to have the inklings of a smile on his face but it quickly fades when you turn to look at him. You sit down on a nearby piece of rubble and watch as they take a few steps away and start to argue about what the plan is. You smile and wave when they look back at you.

“Ok, so what do you know?” Deadpool asks, rushing back up to you. And so you do your best to fill him in on as much as you know about the void itself and Cassandra. All of which seems to not be that useful to him as he just sort of brushes it off and continues, “Well as much as I’d love to have you on the team sunshine, seems like Wolvie over there isn’t too keen on it.” He points over to Logan, who turns away and kicks some dust and debris around. “But, between you and me, he’s just bad with girls. Especially pretty ones with quick mouths.” 

You blush a bit but return a quick retort, “That’s fine, not like I have anything to escape back to anyway. Good luck, random Deadpool.”

“It’s Wade.” 

“Right,” You wave as he runs back to Logan. You imagined it wouldn’t be that long before you see them again, mostly because you had planned on following them, or at least trailing them for long enough to find a new place to stay. 

—-----------

You meet them again at the safe house with Laura, she drove them here and plopped them down without a word. She had been very welcoming when you had wandered this way in search of food, and let you join them for a quick meal. You had told her that you saw Wolverine, and her interest had been piqued. She explained to you everything that had happened before she was sent here, and the two of you bonded over not having something to return too. Although now, with this Wolverine sitting in the same space, it seemed like her chances were looking up.

You figured you’d let them be once they woke up, and wait it out. By the time everyone had finished their speeches, you just stood behind them and waved. You didn’t have much to say, everyone else had much more valid reasoning for wanting to escape than you. You could hardly remember life before the void, if you even had one. Luckily, nobody ever bothered to press you about it, probably assuming you had forgotten for a valid reason. So when Deadpool- Wade, asked you for your input, you sort of just shrugged. Listening to them all plotting was entertaining at least, you were sure you would be of much use, maybe an extra distraction, at the very least you could cover them enough to get the job done. 

You noticed Logan slip out with a bottle of liquor in his hands. You gave Laura a nod before following him outside.

He had started a fire, and was sitting watching the flames.

“So how’d someone like you end up with someone like that?” You gesture back up to the house, as you stand against a tree, watching the fire flicker in front of him.

“It’s complicated.” He says taking a swig from the bottle.

“It always is.” Silence runs through the trees, nothing but crackling fire and the dead stale air of the void. “At least he seems fun.”

“Hah,” He breathes out.

“If that’s what you’re into.”

“No.” His gruff demeanor drops for a second, the bottle halting as he brings it down from his lips.

“No?”

He looks you over, before turning away.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it. I’ll say a prayer for your liver,” You reference the bottle in your hand. He nods, and you walk back up to the house, passing Laura on your way in. She’d probably have better luck cracking him than you.

You wondered if you would ever have a chance to mean something to him, to be more than some small tag along he sniffed out in the dirt. If he would ever find you to be a friend, an ally, someone to talk to, depend on. But you hardly just met, and hardly discussed anything other than half baked insults and nihilistic opinions of the void and your futures.  

—----------------

Wade and Logan had somehow convinced the TVA after everything with Cassandra to allow you and Laura to stay in this universe, and you weren’t sure how or why they wanted you to come along. Laura made sense, he felt responsible for her, and to make up for losing her Logan, to make up for missed moments. 

You? You hardly had a clue why they wanted you here. Or why they offered to let you stay with them until you found something else. You were surprised that Althea would agree to having 5 people sleeping in a tiny apartment. You appreciated the shelter, you were just very very confused by the entire situation. 

“Hello my little floor sleeper, how were your dreams? You were moaning about something…” He slides up next to you in the kitchen as you're pouring a cup of coffee.

“Hi, Wade.” You sip from the mug, not answering his nonsense.

“So,” he jumps up to sit on the counter in front of you, “You gonna spill? Tell me all about your honey badger dream fling? I was surprised you didn’t just wake up and mount him right there on the floor.”

“Shut up, I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“Come on, the three of us sleep in the same tiny space, I hear everything.” 

“I’m gonna steal the couch space from you if you don’t drop it.”

Laura had been given a space in Althea’s room since the boys figured she deserved it, and You, Logan, and Wade were stuck in the living room. Rotating between the couch and cheap air mattresses, usually you just stayed on the floor and let Logan and Wade fight over the couch space. Compared to sleeping on grass and dirt in the void, an air mattress was a definite improvement. As long as Mary Puppins didn’t lick you to death in your sleep, it wasn’t a bad deal. 

“Come on, just admit you like Loggie Bear and I’ll get you some alone time with or without the couch.” 

“Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“Currently, no.”

You sigh, and walk towards the bathroom to change, locking the door behind you as Wade continues to ramble and try to get you to slip and say something about Logan. But you won’t, even if he is right.

There were many nights where you thought about climbing into bed next to him and pressing your face against his chest, breathing in his scent, being held close to him by those utterly ridiculous arms, having him place warm chaste kisses against the top of your head. But you wouldn’t.  

You hardly knew him, and what you knew about him led you to believe that he was not the kind of man to be interested in someone like you. Although he had become more pleasant after having been invited into Wade’s life. Some days he still was that gruff sort of emotionally unavailable man you met in the void, but other days he’s sweet and gentle and kind, usually whenever Laura’s around. It’s as if he’s been given a reason to live again and he’s navigating how to be a person again. 

After you get dressed, you grab your bag and head out, avoiding Wade and his nonsense. You told Laura you’d meet her after her class and go to a cafe she’s been wanting to try. It’s just down the street from the apartment, but the walk is nice and gives you time to get your thoughts back in order. Trying to keep Wade’s pestering from seeping in and getting you to slip up.

When you get to the cafe, Laura is waiting for you outside. You go in and are met with soft florals, sleek wood finish, and the overwhelming smell of coffee. It is so cozy and bright, a welcome break from the dim and crowded apartment. Laura orders something you didn’t know was a thing, and you opt for a simple latte. She finds this funny and smiles at you, “Don’t you want something sweet?”

“No, I’m alright.” You lean against the wall as you wait for your order.

“What’s with you and Logan’s hatred for sugar?” She asks as she slides over to stand next to you.

“I don’t hate sugar, I’m just not in the mood for it.” You shrug and stare at the counter.

“At least you get milk with your coffee, better than black like Logan drinks.” She laughs again and grabs your order when it’s called. The two of you find a nice table by the window and enjoy watching the people passing by. When a particularly handsome man passes by, Laura perks up and asks, “How about that one?”

“He’s alright, not really my type though,” You shrug your shoulders and take another sip from your cup.

“You’re right, I already know your type.” The grin on your face reminds you of how Wade greets you in the mornings.

“Oh yeah? What's that?” You look at her quizzically. 

“Starts with an L and ends with an ogan”

You groan, “Don’t I get enough of that from Wade?”

“I think everyone can see it but you, even Al.” She looks up at you from her drink, in a way you both know she’s right.

“Wow,” is all you can muster in response. 

“I don’t know why you won’t do something about it, and look if you’re worried about me, don’t be. I give you full permission to pursue my not Dad kinda Dad.” 

You quickly try to change the subject, and once your coffee's finished and you’ve loitered around, you walk back in a knowing silence. 

You do have some sort of crush on Logan, but you feel like it would be too ideal to expect him to share those feelings. Especially when you aren’t one hundred percent sure what those feelings even are. He is exceptionally good looking, and well built. If it weren’t for his confrontational attitude and lack of expression, you’d be so certain in your attraction. But there is something blocking you from fully admitting it to yourself.

Maybe it is simply your lack of self, having to build back an identity from nothing, that keeps you from knowing if He is it for you. Even though sometimes he is all you can think about. When you catch him playing dad with Laura. When you catch him helping Althea, a gentle smile plastered on his face as he speaks soft and gentlemanly. When he falls asleep on the couch with Mary Puppins in his arms. The images of the side he works so hard to hide, the soft domesticity he allows himself so rarely. That is what really sticks in your brain.

Along with the less than innocent images you have carved into your brain. Like that time he forgot you were home and came out from the bathroom only wrapped in a towel. The water clinging to his muscles and dripping from his hair. Or when he had his sleeves rolled up while walking around the apartment, the skin shiny from sweat, and all you could think about was what it would feel like to be held in place by them.

When you remember yourself, both you and Laura have made it back to the apartment. 

—-------

You were surprised that for once, everyone was home for dinner, and it wasn’t even a special occasion. Wade decided that it would be easiest to order some pizzas to avoid having to cook. You didn’t complain, even if you would have preferred a home cooked meal, pizza was fine. Of course he had gone to pick it up and left you with Logan, Laura, and Althea. She, reasonably so, had her spot already picked out in the armchair by the window. Logan and Laura were sitting on opposite sides of the couch, watching something on tv. All the while you sat on the floor, legs folded over each other, leaning back on your hands. 

“Why don’t you come sit on the couch?” Laura had asked, and you knew she already knew the answer, which was that you didn’t want to be so close to Logan that you would be touching. You had been cultivating a very specific environment with him, one where if you could just avoid any close contact with him, you could pretend like your heart didn't ache at the thought of him.

“I’m good here,” You didn’t bother looking away from the tv, which you weren’t even watching. 

“Come on,” Laura patted the cushion next to her. 

“Maybe I don’t want to sit next to the cat,” You looked over your shoulder at them. Logan was leaning back into the cushions behind him.

“I don’t want to sit next to you either,” His tone was only slightly malicious.

“Good.”

“Just sit on the couch,” Laura insisted. 

“No. He reeks, I think the animal dna gave him the scent too,” You waved your hand in front of your nose.

“But I don’t smell,” Laura sniffed her shirt.

“You reek too, ya know?” Logan pointed to Mary Puppins in the corner, “Probably cause you’re always sleeping next to that.” 

“Thanks. She’s actually a better roommate than you.” 

“You all stink,” Althea commented from her spot. 

As you stood up to walk towards the kitchen the door swung open. “PIZZA TIME!” Wade shouted, carrying the stack of boxes into the apartment. 

You ate mostly in silence, as Wade rambled on about something or someone that you had no interest in. Lately he was obsessed with those trashy reality tv shows were people all live in one house and things go wrong one way or another. You felt like you were already living in that, no need to watch strangers go through it too. It’s not that you felt like you were walking on eggshells, or that you weren’t welcome. More so that you were waiting for this whole thing to blow up in your face. 

—---------

It was late in the morning when you managed to roll out of your bed. Logan and Wade had already been awake and were trying their hardest to be quiet. Rather, Logan was quiet, and Wade was not. You didn’t hear what they were talking about, only that Logan mumbled something under his breath and Wade turned to see you sitting up on the floor.

“Good morning sleeping beauty! Pancakes or waffles?” He turned to you and you saw he was wearing one of those tacky ‘kiss the chef’ aprons.

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes and stood up to stretch, “Whichever you’re less likely to burn.” 

Wade feigned offense, as you walked into the bathroom to brush your teeth and hair. “How do you manage to sleep so soundly down there?” Wade called from the kitchen as you walked back into the living room.

“I don’t.” You pulled out a chair and sat at the dining table, still groggy. “Which is why I need to get a job, and my own place.” 

“You’re leaving me?” Wade gasped, and crossed his hands over his heart. “How could you? What about the kids?” He started making a big fuss about it as if you hadn’t told him before that this had been your plan. “I can’t believe you would leave me alone with honey badger and the little ones! I can’t raise them alone.”

“Everyone that lives here is an adult, Wade.”

“Let her be,” Laura said as she slid into the kitchen and sat next to you. She smiled at you and nodded. 

Wade and Logan joined you at the table, sliding the plates of pancakes to you and her. They weren’t burnt, which was progress. 

—--------

You had spent the day job hunting, and apartment hunting, which was not as important since you kinda needed the money first. The cafe you had been to with Laura was hiring, though not having much of a resume due to the whole void and lack of a world thing, probably meant your chances of getting hired were slim. You submitted an application anyway, and to a few other shops and things in the area. Hopefully something would stick.

There really weren't many options in the area for apartments either, but when you ran into the building manager they had mentioned that one of the other units on your floor might be opening up soon. It wasn’t ideal to be in the same building as Wade and the others, but it was your only lead at the moment. 

When Wade got home, he had a sort of look in his eyes, which you had learned meant something was up. And when Laura came home with the same sort of look, you were even more suspicious. 

“What are you two doing?” You asked, approaching them in the kitchen.

“Well I thought I could do something nice for you,” Wade had his hands behind his back, holding something hidden from you. “And Logan,” he whispered but you still caught it.

“What?” Logan appeared from the bathroom, and leaned against the wall.

Wade handed you a piece of paper, “Tada!” You looked over the paper, it was a reservation confirmation for a hotel. “A magical getaway for you and the kitty cat to work out your differences at an all inclusive resort!”

“This is a Best Western.” The dates on the sheet were for tomorrow, Friday, until Sunday morning. 

“Did I stutter?” Wade stood with his hands on his hips.

“Who said I wanted to do this?” Logan asked, coming up behind you to look at the paper. He was so close you could almost feel his warmth against you. 

“Come on, you complain about the air mattress all the time,” Laura started, “This is your chance for a real bed.”

“Ok? So why do I have to go with her,” He was looming behind you, and the deep vibrations of his voice made your cheeks redden.

“It was cheaper to have two guests than one.” 

“Fine,” He walked away. You were also surprised that he would so quickly agree to something like this. As it was so obviously a set up. A plot against you.

“Perfect! Now go get packing!” Wade slapped you on the shoulder, and smiled. You knew this was all his idea. 

—-------

You were expecting this to be a set up, but when you opened the door and saw only one bed you knew it to be true. Logan walks in while you hold the door and he drops down onto the edge of the bed. You sigh as you drag your bag in and make a mental note to get back at Wade later. You turn the TV on to try to dispel the oppressive silence in the room, but all that's on the hotel cable is questionably written Hallmark movies. Logan shifts on the bed, and you hear it creak under his weight. You wonder what he would feel like on top of you, if he would crush you entirely.

 You sit in the chair that's against the wall, peering out through the cracks in the curtains to stare out at the parking lot, the sun is low against the horizon, and it’s surprisingly quiet. You can hear the fabric of the cheap hotel sheets rustling under Logan, along with the sound of his breathing, as he leans back into the bed, and you wonder how long you’ll be able to survive in a small room alone with him.

Despite having slept in the same room for the past few months, this is an entirely different situation. There’s no Wade, or Laura, or Mary puppins, or Althea. It is just you and him, in a hotel room, with one bed. Which was certainly a set up from Wade, in his quests to get you to admit your feelings for Logan. 

“Are you hungry?” You try to break the silence in the most mundane way possible, at least to save yourself from the discomfort.

“I could eat,”

“We could get room service?”

“Fine by me.” You toss him the menu and once you both decide on what to get you call it in. It was going to take a while, so you decided to take advantage of the luxury of a hotel shower. Telling Logan you wouldn’t be too long and to let you know if the food came before you were done. 

The shower is nice, clean white tiles, and a rather standard sort of set up. It is nice to have some time to yourself, despite Logan being in the other room, you try to allow yourself this time to relax. Letting the hot water soak into your skin and soothe your aches and pains. The sound of the water blocking out any thoughts or concerns about the current situation, letting you forget, at least momentarily, that you would be having to sort out the sleeping arrangements. The hotel soap is tropical, but gentle, not too overwhelmingly sweet or fruity. As you lather up you can barely hear the sounds of the tv in the other room. It is so still and unremarkable. It feels normal, but somehow you wonder if you can ever shake the loneliness of time in the void, if you can allow yourself to have a normal life again. As if you can build back something you don’t even remember. As if you deserve this space that has miraculously been carved out for you, for some reason unbeknownst to you. 

Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of a knock on the door, and the noise of Logan’s steps going to retrieve the room service. You quickly rinse and towel off, wrapping up your hair and sliding into the hotel bathrobe. 

“Food’s here,” Logan calls from behind the bathroom door. You wait until you hear him sit back down on the bed before opening the door and returning to your spot in the chair. 

The two of you eat in silence, and you can’t help but notice his eyes on you. You wonder if it is just in your head, or if he is actually trying to steal glances at you from across the way. You tried to ignore him, to stare fully at the trash tv movie, or at the weird art on the walls. Anything but him. If you could just pretend like he wasn’t there, you could make it for the next two nights. 

Although being this close to him in a small hotel room was not the ideal scenario to make forgetting about him easy. His breathing was audible. His presence was palpable. Even the vague scent of whiskey, cigars, and sweat was radiating from his position on the bed. Every little detail filled your mind with a fog, and all that was running through your brain was him. Over and over. Logan was everywhere. 

“You want to sleep soon?” His voice cut through the haze and you practically snapped your neck to look over at him.

“Hm? Oh… uh yeah probably.” You couldn’t help but look directly into his eyes, and you felt like you should disappear so that he couldn’t make you feel so foolish. So utterly trapped by the idea of him. “I can Just take the cushions from the chair and sleep on the floor,”

“That defeats the whole point of Wade’s gift.”

“So?” You started pulling the cushions of the chair and throwing them on the floor.

“You can sleep up here in the bed,” His voice was commanding. It was no longer a polite suggestion. “I don’t bite.”

“Right but-” As you go to protest, he interrupts.

“We can face opposite ways.” 

And so that is how you ended up in your pajama shorts and a ratty tee shirt, in bed with Logan. Who, true to his word, had his back facing you, and you had your back facing him. You could hear your heart beating, and no matter what you told yourself you could not get it to slow down. His presence, only inches away, was consuming you. Your mind is unable to stop racing with images of him holding you down, touching you, eating you alive. Making you squirm beneath him. You squirmed and thrashed trying to get comfortable enough to fall asleep, but even with your eyes screwed shut you couldn’t.

“Stop moving,” Logan’s voice was low and rumbly. He turned towards you, and laid his arm over your middle, pulling your back against him. “Go to sleep,” He murmured, his lips against the back of your head. 

He was warm and solid behind you, his body pressed to yours gently. His grasp on you wasn’t tight, but the sheer weight of him kept you firmly in place. As you tried to quell your heart and steady your breathing, you finally managed to drift asleep. And stay asleep, the entire night. 

—-----

The hotel was so quiet and peaceful, and clean, compared to the apartment. You managed to sleep soundly, and stay asleep until late in the morning. You had nearly forgotten about the situation, until you were met with Logan’s arm still snuggly wrapped around you as you opened your eyes.

His lips were pressed to the back of your head, his muscular frame firmly pressed against your back. His grip had tightened in the night, and he had pulled you even closer to himself. As you tried to remove yourself from him, he grumbled against you, “Stay.”

“Logan-” You tried to protest, to escape from the growing embarrassment and heat building up in your body.

“Just a bit longer.” He groaned, and pressed himself further into you. Your breath caught in your throat as you felt the growing bulge against your lower back. 

“Logan, please. Let me get up.” You pushed against his arm, and tried to pull yourself away but you were no match for him. 

“Why?” His voice was losing the grogginess of sleep, he was almost fully awake now. 

“Because-” You tried again to free yourself.

“Don’t you like me?” He sounded cocky, the question perhaps meaning to be playful but it stopped you dead in your tracks.

“I-” You stiffen, unable to react accordingly. 

“Then, stay.” Taken aback by his words and sudden clingy behavior, you realized that maybe Laura had been right, and everyone, including Logan, could see it. The way you had begun to feel about him, the almost immediate crush you developed as soon as you spotted him in the void, the way you felt thankful to have the chance at life again, simply because you wanted the chance to spend it with him.

You lay stuck in his arms for an unknown amount of time, the silence makes you a little uneasy, but his warmth and tenderness keeps you from leaping away. You didn’t imagine him to be someone so gentle, although you had glimpsed some of his more domestic behaviors when he thought it was just Him and Laura at home, and he would fuss over her like how you would want a good father to do. You felt safe and held by him, the frantic thoughts and anxieties being melted away into the warmth of him and his body against yours. 

As you nearly drift asleep again, he speaks, “Turn around.” And so you do, clumsily, but when you see his face those frantic thoughts and the racing of your heart begins again.  

“So pretty like this,” He murmurs, his face and voice soft. And before you can respond he closes the gap between you, his hand lacing in your hair and pulling you into him as he presses his lips against your gentle and steady. The brief taste of him makes you crave more.

As he pulls away to search your face for any signs of discomfort, you pull him back to you, your hands reaching up to his face to crash your lips into his. You whimper against him as his hands run down your spine and land on your hips, pulling you as close to him as he can. You can feel your arousal pooling between your thighs as he darts his tongue in to meet yours, twisting and tangling yourself with him as much as you can. The months of unspoken tension pouring out of you and dissipating as you desperately try to push yourself against him. You bring your hand down to paw at his bulge, darting your fingers across the fabric of his pajama pants. 

He smiles against you as he catches your hand with his and bring it under the waistband. You gasp when you realize he had not been wearing anything underneath his pants. Your fingers wrapping around him, the warmth and size of him in your hand making your head spin. 

His hands find their way to the edge of your shorts, pulling them and your panties down your legs as he breaks the kiss only for a moment to find his breath. His fingers trace up and down your thighs, pressing gentle circles into the skin before he pushes his hand between them, his palm pressing into you. The brief friction against your clit drawing a short moan from you. His hand rubs against you, the pressure making you grind down to meet him, craving more.

You whine as he pulls his hand away, only for him to grab your hips and pull you on top of him. His back against the bed as he brings you to straddle him. You kick your shorts and panties away, as he pulls his pants down further. His erection springing up against you. You can barely focus long enough to glimpse the size of him, too overcome with greed and arousal. 

You sink yourself onto his cock as his hands guide your hips. You moan at the stretch of it. He lets you catch your breath as you take him down to the hilt. His hands never leave you as he kisses and nips along your neck and shoulders, your head pressed against his shoulder as he begins to rock into you, whispering praises and filth against your skin. 

You grind your hips against his, the head of his cock dragging along that magic spot inside of you that causes the pleasure to build and the knot in your stomach to tighten. He growls in your ear as you tighten and pulse around him. You can feel the pressure building, making your head spin. He slips his fingers into your mouth and you greedily accept them, sucking and licking and kissing along them. He removes them and a trail of your saliva beads down them. He brings them between you to rub circles on your clit. The sensation dizzying, as he draws you closer and closer to the edge. Your moans are frantic as you practically pant against him, begging him not to stop, that you’re so close, so so close. 

With one steady thrust he snaps the last thread and you come undone around him. The feeling of you cumming around him bringing him to his limit, if he wasn’t so enraptured by you he might have been embarrassed with how quickly you’ve made him cum. His warmth fills you as you come down from your high, hazy and drooling. You smile as he presses you against him. You don’t mind staying like this, you whine when he tries to move.

“Alright, princess. I’ll stay.” He smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

[betelgeuses-wife]

Beetlejuice x fem reader [slight hurt/then comfort fix]

Reader is an adult with a job, living in the beetlejuice house. Fine for 16+ but bear in mind the POV of character for this fic.

-----

Notes: written for fem reader. Fem pet names.

Type: oneshot

Genre: hurt/comfort

Length: short/medium? Idk word count

Warnings: not sure if any are needed. Some suggestive comments on Bee's part.

Barely proofread.

Do not steal my work or copy and post anywhere else.

-------

The clock was still chiming as you walked in the door to the house, the bird popped in and out of the clock but the sequence had ended a moment later as you ditched your shoes and bag by the door for a later, more tired you that would remember it right before bed. The house was depressingly quiet, not like you had expected any different. It was just you after all. Well...you and one annoying ghost.

The aged wallpaper seemed greyer than usual and it only provoked your want to rip it off and put up a new pattern. You loved the house and how it was originally decorated but it was in need of some T.L.C. which was something you had the money for but not the time. Your frame slouched as you shuffled over to the couch and sat down on the edge, you knew why it was quiet.

After an argument yesterday about Bee always being around and in your space, especially when you had friends round or the odd date, you had selfishly made him disappear. You had been so frustrated that you said his name three times just to get him off your back but now you felt guilty. It was something that had plagued your mind all day. Nagging at you. You took a breath and rubbed your face, sighing before you spoke quietly to yourself.

"I'm such an ass. He was an ass first. But...still."

You didn't know if you should summon him, to do so would only to be for your own gain. To get some form of comfort. Because you had no one else. Not right now. You would be selfish to. You knew that. So you sat there alone, flicking the TV on though you barely watched it. You couldn't help but think about what Bee had told you over the last couple of years. How he married and it didn't work out. How he helped the couple who lived here before and was let down. And he had helped you. Albeit for a deal. But you had kept up your end of the deal until yesterday. And even still, without asking or without expecting anything he had helped you out with much more than you deserved. He kept an eye on you. Made sure you were taken care of when you got hom even though he'd act like he wasn't doing it for you and it was just out of boredom.

And you had sent him away. All because, what? You didn't like that he called out the new friends you made who said things they shouldn't have? Because the dates you brought home did something that made you uncomfortable? Did you really get annoyed with him because he looked out for you and you were too stubborn to realise it?

How could you summon him for your own comfort after that? You couldn't. It would be an asshole move. You knew that. So you sat in your own pathetic guilt for the evening. You heated up a meal you had made and frozen earlier in the week, it was a lousy meal without your usual dining experience. The reruns of shows didn't seem as funny as they usually did either. You sighed heavily and tried to power through your dinner but suddenly you didn't feel hungry anymore. The day was was feeling heavier by the minute and you contemplated just having a shower and going to bed.

You forced yourself from your spot on the couch and threw the rest of your meal away before placing your dirty dishes in the sink. You'd do that later. Tomorrow. You didn't really have the energy to care in that moment.

You convinced yourself that maybe getting an early night would be best. Then you'd have a longer weekend if you didn't sleep in. You were lying to yourself that you'd get a good night's sleep. You put your shoes away on the rack and lazily placed your bags up against the wall. It was good enough to not be a trip hazard later at least. It felt like you were dragging your body up the stairs but your mind was elsewhere, the pesky thoughts of how lonely it must be for Bee. He was probably up in the tiny model graveyard. That's where he had been before.

Sure, Bee had said some nasty things too yesterday. A slur of names. Theoretical accusations too. But you had still sent him back to where ever he had been before. You could've just gone to bed or the bathroom. Out of respect he kept out of those places unless, for whatever reason, you called for him while there. You had other options and you still picked to say his name three times. What a dick move.

Those thoughts swam in circles in your mind as you wandered into your bedroom, your dazed mind barely able to figure out your next move. You showered and pulled on your worn shirt that had transitioned from outerwear to comfy bed top which was paired with a pair of shorts from a set but you had lost the shirt to it years ago. A strange combination that was quite normal for you now.

You climbed into bed, the sheets were fresh as you had fallen asleep on the couch yesterday, a strangely nice surprise that you welcomed. Freshly clean, comfy clothes, you should've felt content and ready for sleep and yet you stared out the window numbly. You laid there, waiting for sleep set in, waiting for your eyes to grow tired but it seemed your mind was far too determined for that. You sighed and closed your eyes for a moment.

"Beetlejuice. Beetlejuice. Beetlejuice." And you waited.

And waited some more.

But there was just silence.

You opened your eyes and still the room was empty. Until you looked over at the door frame where the pale man in a striped suit was leaning. His eyes on his hands as he picked at his nails before crossing him arms. He looked less than pleased.

"Well, thank ya for lettin' me out, toots. Nice t'know ya need me." His words were anything but sweet this time. The sarcastic poison dripped from his words. The tone just made you sink back into bed without a retort unlike you usually would.

"I'm sorry I sent you away. I shouldn't of. You can have free reign of the house. I'm getting an early night anyway..." Your voice was quiet. Defeated. Bee seemed to notice and instead of his usual mocking manner, he moved around to the empty side of the bed and sat down.

"Doll, ya really think bein' put in time out for a day is gunna do much t'me? I'm a ghost! A day's nothin'." You watched as he exclaimed and moved to get comfortable on the bed; sat up against the pillows and the headboard, his legs crossed at the ankles.

"I don't know...I promised I wouldn't. I made a deal and I broke it. Like the people here did before...I thought you'd hate me." You hated the whole 'woe is me' confession but it still needed to be said.

You heard a snort and glanced up to see Bee looking out the window before shifting his eyes onto you.

"Hate ya? C'mon. Ya think I could hate ya for that? Annoyed? Sure. Ready t'make the rest of ya life a livin' hell? Definitely. But it'd take more than that t'make me hate you, sweetcheeks"

You sighed and shifted under the blankets, you felt a little relieved but still also felt bad for what you did.

"Do you think..." Your words trailed off.

"Do I think what, Toots?"

"Do you think you could stay here tonight? Just until I fall asleep anyway..."

"Oh? You're invitin' me to sleep with ya?" You watched as his annoying smirk grew.

"Bee. Fine. Get out. I'll sleep by myself." You stated as you turned away from the man. Your back now facing him.

"Hey- hey- hey-! I'll behave. I promise! I'll just lay 'ere. Like a statue! See!" You heard his voice desperately pipe up.

"Put some pyjamas on then. No shoes on the bed." You mumbled as you rolled back over onto your other side, watching as Beetlejuice got up and change into striped pyjamas with a cloud of smoke. He did a little show of jazz hands for added affect.

"Ta-da-! How'd I look? Sleek? Sexy? Seducing?" His words drawn out while he posed for each word.

"Just get in the damn bed, Bee. Before I change my mind." Rolling your eyes at the theatrics.

You watched as he scrambled to get under the covers and shifted closer to you. And closer still until you stopped him.

"Don't push your luck, Juice." Your words earned a groan. You closed your eyes and tried to settle, laying in silence for a while. You knew he was just pretending to sleep so you'd feel comfortable. You peeked up and scooted closer until you were nearly against his chest. Perhaps this was too close. You tried to back away but you found Bee's arm over your waist.

"Don't try t'run away now, Sweets." His voice was low and gravelly but he still spoke in a softer voice than usual.

You huffed a little but didn't move away again. You didn't speak for a moment. You just laid silently, eyes on Bee's chest though you were lost in thought.

"Work got the better of ya today"

"I never said that."

"Ya don't have'ta"

"Great. Glad to know you can tell I hate my job."

"I can tell ya tired, Dollface. Its'all I meant"

His words were strangely comforting. He was trying at least.

"Stop tryna be s'tough and lemme help ya"

He was right. Usually after a bad day you'd cling to him and watch some stupid show. But now you were in bed. A place he wasn't ever allowed before. This felt...different.

You sighed and snuggled up to him like you usually would on the couch, you felt his arms tighten around you before one moved up to the back of your head, his fingers gently running through your hair.

"I'll be 'ere, Doll. I ain't got anywhere else t'go anyway. Or maybe we could get things heated up if ya cold-"

"Beetlejuice."

"Alright- just layin here. Like a statue."

You soon started to drift off to his familiar touch. His arm holding you close and his fingers massaging your scalp, it lulled you into a deep sleep. It had you questioning whether you should invite Bee to bed more often.

[madschiavelique]

Hello!

Sorry if you don't write for halsin, I didn't see bg3 characters on your list of who you write for on the pinned post. I was wondering if you could write a Halsin x fem reader where she is the leader of the tieflings at the Grove. They could be competitive or just learning how to work together for their people's interest. I think that could be a really interesting dynamic to explore. SFW or NSFW both sound good, so whatever inspires you.

Thank you so much!!

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ pairing : halsin x tiefling fem!reader

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ content warning : a bit of angst but mostly fluff (with some hurt/comfort), kagha being an absolute bitch, mentions of blood and wounds (healer gets hurt but don't worry halsin heals her), other than that lots of fluff, fem!reader, tiefling reader, no use of y/n

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ words : 8,8k

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ author's note : okay so just to say i did not intend this to be as long and if it wasn't for me having life happening i would have made it longer by writing a smut, but hey if u guys want smut from this one i'd GLADLY write it. it took me time to write it also because i had another idea originally but it would have been way too long and have much less tension and would develop the reader too much rather than her connection to halsin SO YEA enjoy hihi

( proofread by the lovely @gracethyomen ☆)

Your people were watching you with concern as you walked down the slope towards the druids' quarters. The little ones had come to you in a panic while you were talking to Zevlor.

All you'd managed to decipher was ‘Arabella, druid, snake’, and you were on your way to sort things out.

You and your group of tieflings had been living in the grove for barely a week. At first the druids welcomed you with open arms, Nettie even allowed you access to the basements and other caverns of the place.

It was an ideal place for tieflings. Although the majority of the grove was outside where you could spend time close to nature, much of the area was sheltered by the shade of the rocks. Your race had become accustomed to living in underground spaces, so what better place to stay than here.

What's more, there were enough cellars and basements to house everyone. Plus, you didn't just stand there and do nothing, you took part in the life of the grove. Whether it was Mattis and his rings to sell or Dammon and his weapons, you were helping out with the trade, and you'd ordered that you and your people should take part in the life of the grove so that everyone didn't look like a green plant in the background.

However, the druids had become bitter of late, and the hospitality you so cherished seemed to be fading as tensions rose. On the one hand, the druids were casting evil glances at the tieflings, claiming that the latter were destroying the larders by their mere presence and that they were an evil people ready to destroy the peace of nature for whatever reason linked to their nature.

On the other hand, the tieflings were defending themselves as best they could by providing manpower for the security of the grove, not lowering the prices of their trade under any circumstances, and getting angry at the treatment they were receiving.

And out of those sides, in the centre, only two people managed to calm the situation: you and Halsin.

You didn't see much of him, as he seemed more preoccupied these days with the problems affecting the area around the little haven of peace, so he was frequently absent. But it had already been more than two days since Halsin had disappeared, and the conflicts in the grove were escalating.

Locke and Komira came towards you as you approached, the tiefling woman suffocating between tears and panic:

“It's Arabella, they took her and they won't let me see her,” she managed to say.

You put your hand on her shoulder to reassure her, ‘I know, I'll take care of it, okay?’

You walked down the few steps towards the fountain where a meditation session was taking place around an idol. Suspicions of a ritual aimed at closing the grove to the world ran from one mouth to the next, a further sign of the descent into ostracism of the latter. Angry druids acted as smugglers, dictating who or what could pass through.

“Stop right here, step back and join the other tieflings”, Jeorna said mechanically, arms folded defensively.

“Let me through, you and I both know I can solve this without any blood baths.” You weren't necessarily strong, nor did you have an innate talent for fighting, but if there was one thing you knew how to do it was to be eloquent, enough you hoped to allow all these worries to be sorted out.

Jeorna pouted, chewing the inside of her cheek as she gave you a simple nod towards the druids' stone door.

“Thank you,” you thanked hastily as you hurried towards it. 

You felt the heavy gaze of all the druids on your back, the weight of your responsibility and your difference in this environment becoming almost suffocating.

You walked past the wall, down the small staircase to the druidic quarters. Kagha was there, next to Arabella, who looked simply terrified. Your eyes fell on the rock beside the girl, the glint of the druidess's vicious pet snake ready to attack at any moment.

“What's going on?” you asked as you approached. 

All eyes turned to you, Arabella's filled with hope while Kagha's face contorted as if a pestilential smell had suddenly taken over the place.

“What are you doing here?” she stormed.

“And what are you doing here ?” you asked back, maintaining a firm tone.

“One of your kind has tried stealing the idol of Silvanus, a punishment is required for such an act.”

“So you'd be ready to threaten a child's life for a... piece of rock?” you asked, confused.

Kagha parted her lips, preparing to reply something, but the very simplicity of your sentence seemed to bring her back down to earth. This little affront, though, which in her eyes seemed designed to belittle Kagha's credulity in the eyes of the druids, made her boil internally.

“I maintain, a punishment will result for her.” she grimaced, her face bitter and twisted with anger.

“If anyone is going to be punished, it certainly won't be a child.” Your eyes lowered to Arabella, her eyes full of tears, “Let me receive what she must receive.”

The other druids took offence in murmurs, a cloud of low whispers encircling you all as you kept your eyes on Kagha.

“Nonsense,” she laughed, a touch of panic and surprise taking over her tone, “she's the criminal in this instance.”

“Since when do we judge children as criminals in this way?” You raised an eyebrow, shrugging your shoulders in incomprehension. “Kagha, this goes against every principle of your order.”

“Don't talk to me about principles, you vermin.’

Any diplomacy you might have shown was slowly fading as Kagha showed her true colours.

“Kagha,” Rath said as if he'd just been punched in the stomach by hearing her speak like that, “stop this nonsense.”

You took a step towards her, then a second, approaching her slowly and never taking your eyes off her. Some people see the underworld in the horns and tails of the tiefling, but your gaze burned with the fires of the Nine Hells.

“And what are you going to do, hm?” you asked as your face came so close to her you could feel her quick breath against your cheeks, “trap me in vines ? get your little pet to bite me wherever you please ?”

“Don't give me ideas,” she added in an evil, mocking tone, “my judgement will be-”

“What is going on?”

All eyes turned towards the entrance to the room, except yours, which remained riveted on Kagha. You hadn't seen much of him, but you knew his voice well enough to recognise him: Halsin.

Kagha took a step away, quickly whispering to her snake to come back to her before saluting, full of surprise: 

“Halsin, you're back.”

Arabella ran towards you, gripping your thigh tightly with her little arms as you felt the fabric of your trousers dampen with her tears.

You tilted your head to the side, still watching Kagha. You had this deep longing, this need for her to remember your gaze, to remember for all the days to come of her eternal life that she would know the anger you bore for all your kind nestled just in your eyes.

Halsin came down the steps, his two arms tensed by the two huge baskets he was carrying. He came towards you, his eyebrows furrowing as he watched Arabella's back twitch. You put your hand on her hair, stroking it gently as she turned her head and her teary eyes met Halsin's. 

He turned to Kagha, who still looked as surprised as ever.

“What is the meaning of this ?” he asked, confused.

Kagha fixed her gaze on yours, expecting you to reveal everything in your embittered state. You stared at her for a long time, then turned to Arabella, exhaling in relief.

“Nothing,” you managed to say calmly, “Arabella just got lost and was scared by the wolves.”

The druids' animals were a perfect excuse for the moment, and Kagha was looking at you with huge eyes. You weren't trying to fuel the fire of hatred, you were trying to calm it down and eventually extinguish it so that you could live together in peace. Throwing her to Halsin’s wrath wouldn’t help either of your peoples. 

Halsin smiled, his eternal gentleness spreading across his face as he knelt beside Arabella. She sniffed, clutching tightly at the fabric of your trousers.

“I can see how they might frighten you, but they've got a good heart,” he said.

He lowered his hand to one of the baskets, taking a handful of wild strawberries that he'd gone to pick along with some other medicinal herbs. He took a small brown cloth bag and poured the red fruits into it. 

“Here,” he said, handing the small bag to Arabella.

She took it in her hand, smiling at him as she sniffed from the tears.

“She should thank you,” said Kagha.

Her venom clearly knew no bounds, and the acrimony you felt towards her was not about to subside.

“She's had a great scare, I'm not going to ask her to be polite,” asserted Halsin.

“Come on sweetheart,” you said, taking Arabella's free hand, “let's get you back to your parents, okay?”

She nodded, squeezing your hand as you headed for the exit. You gave Kagha one last dark look, her eyebrows furrowing as she bit the inside of her mouth.

You took the little girl back to her parents, who took her in their arms. They dried her tears and asked if she was all right, if anyone had hurt her.

“This needs to stop,” said one of the tiefling, “we can't live in fear of what they'll do to us all the time.”

And he was right, you had to find a way to keep your people safe. When evening came, you went up to the telescope that Nadira was occupying, assuring her that she could go to sleep.

You needed a break from all the pressure. You were trying to prevent a conflict breaking out between two completely different peoples who had to live together. The prejudices of your race didn't leave you with an easy task, and this supposed ritual that the druids had started...

You watched the stars, hoping they would give you advice and answers to your questions.

“Beautiful, isn't it ?”

You almost jumped as you turned your head towards Halsin, who came to sit across from you on the cut log.

“Nature has always brought beauty everywhere, in the skies, on the grounds, even in people,” he smiled, resting his forearms on his knees.

You sighed, watching the skies. “If only all people had the beauty you speak of within them.”

"It's a part of nature to be as deadly as it is beautiful.” he said, shrugging as his eyes drifted to the sky in turn. “Plants will make their poisons, predators will make their prey, roses will make their thorns. It's a part of it, just like within each and everyone of us lives a part of light and a part of darkness. We're made in nature's image, after all.”

You leaned back on the rock against which you were sitting, looking at him. He was so serene, so gentle. It seemed impossible at the time to consider that he had any darkness in him.

“What can a rose do against a sheep and its hunger?” you asked, curious.

He laughed softly, his eyes landing on yours as he faced you. “I guess she can't do much, she can try her best with her claws but... nature is as beautiful as it is cruel.”

There was a melancholy in his sentence, hidden behind the softness of his smile.

“Has nature disappeared in the Shadowlands?”

His smile slowly faded, his honey-coloured eyes illuminated by the moon watching you.

“It has not disappeared,” he said, “it has... shifted, been turned into something dark, something undead that defies the laws of nature itself.”

You nodded, your tail coming to rest on your lap.

“Maybe the shadowlands is the only place where the rose can sting the sheep,” you said, gently brushing away the dust that had settled on your skin.

You could feel him looking at you, and you didn't know whether you wanted him to go on forever, or for your eyes to meet his and for him to look away.

“Is that why you're so absent from the grove?” you asked as you finally found the strength to look up and meet his eyes again. “To search for a way to cleanse the land?”

He nodded, smiling gently. “Indeed. The shadows of the past haunt me, they have been doing so for the last hundred years.”

You sometimes forgot how wise he was, how many lives he'd lived, how many lovers he must've had… You find yourself thinking about the question for a moment. His kindness was unparalleled, his generosity and selflessness boundless, and to top it all off: By the Nine Hells, he was handsome.

You wondered if he had a partner, if he had vowed never to love again after his one and only love, or if he wasn't interested.

You straightened up, kneeling before him as he looked at you with surprised eyes.

“Halsin,” you began as you looked into his eyes. “I know that you try to do good in every place that has suffered, it is a noble goal I can't deny it.” You sighed, the despair of the last few days weighing on your shoulders as you loosened them. “But you have to understand that I am starting to be the only one trying to keep the grove at peace.”

His lips parted. You stood up, wiping the dirt from your knees.

“And the grove is not part of the past,” you said to him as he stood, “it's now or never.”

You waved goodbye for the night, leaving to find your sleeping bag in the subterranean caverns while you hoped that your words would have brought him some clarity.

The next morning, ready to take part in the day's gatherings and help in the grove, you learned that Halsin had left earlier that morning, and that once again there had been no news from him.

Your hopes were gradually crumbling.

The rumour that a druidic ritual to close the grove off from the rest of the world had been set in motion under Kagha's orders was well-founded. You sighed, hoping that Halsin would return during the day and not be absent any longer.

Another member of the grove seemed to be missing. Old Auntie Ethel was nowhere to be seen near her stall of potions and other health elixirs. So it fell to you to supervise it during the day.

Night came, and just as you were about to go to bed, Arabella and the other children came running to you, screaming.

“Do you want to wake the whole place up?” you shouted in a whisper.

“You've got to come and see, quick!” urged Arabella as she pulled you along.

The children crept towards the fountain, and you followed them, wondering what they had been up to. You passed the stone wall, descending the steps to the druids' quarters.

“Are you insane? Do you want to get yourself killed coming here?” you scolded them in silence.

“We've found something you really must see!”

They took you to the centre of the room and made you wait there, passing behind some vines to open what you recognised as a chest in the half-light.

They came back to you with a letter in their hands, holding it out to you insistently. You took the letter in your hands, and what you read in it made your blood run cold.

Shadow druids. Kagha had allied herself with them.

“What are you doing here?!” 

Kagha's furious voice echoed around the room, the little ones next to you flinching.

"Go back to bed,” you said firmly to the children as your eyes locked on Kagha's. 

“But-”

“No buts, you're going back. Now.”

The kids didn't wait a second longer, running for the stairs.

“You're not going anywhere,” Kagha shouted as she came towards them, but you blocked her path.

“So you’ve chosen the Shadow Druids,” you said bitterly, pointing to the letter.

Kagha's face broke, realisation washing over her face with a meagre transition to raw anger.

“You'll never understand anything,” she spat.

You frowned, a flash of destructive malice shining in her eyes.

“Always getting in the way where nobody wants you,” she said, looking at you with disgust and contempt, starting to circle you like a wolf around its next meal, like a predator around its prey, like a sheep around its rose. “You think you have every right here. You and your kind think that you can steal anything you can get your hands on, destroy the order of the grove, intrude on the tranquillity it offers, and you think you'll never have to pay anything in return.”

She chuckled, watching your gaze darken. “You'll never be welcomed, and I'll see to it personally.”

Kagha drew her scimitars, and you braced yourself for whatever injury it might cause.

It was an unfair fight, you had no weapon, no spell, nothing to protect yourself with. All you could hope to do was dodge. She sliced an arc through the air towards you, and you stepped back. She made another strike that split the air, but still couldn't reach you. You were agile, and that worked in your favour.

You ran the length of the room, jumping and trotting to avoid her attacks, but you didn't have time to read the labels on all the potions on display, or the contents of the parchments lying here and there, which could have been of great help to you.

Kagha got fed up with chasing you soon enough, and her voice boomed through the room when she said: “Flagellum!”

A bramble whip wrapped itself around one of your ankles, knocking you off your feet and taking your breath away as you hit the ground. The thorns of the whip dug deep into your leg, and you could already feel the blood spreading under the fabric of your trousers.

You tried to get to your feet but Kagha punched you in the face and cut your lip, rolling you onto your back as she knelt on your arms to stop you doing anything.

“Did you honestly think everything was going to work out?” she said through clenched teeth as she pressed the tip of her scimitar into your arm, “That everything would work out perfectly and we'd find a balance?”

The blade of her sword dug in past the fabric of your shirt, the pain slow and making you grunt. “Never, never would both sides have emerged victorious,” she growled as she withdrew the blade from the flesh of your arm, coming to place it under your throat.

You held your breath, were you going to die like this?

“The shadows were always the answer.”

And as you tried as best you could to shake off the thorns tugging at your leg or to lift your arm out of her grip, you felt the metal covered in your own blood pressing against your neck.

“Kagha!”

Halsin's voice echoed around the room, Kagha turning and letting her attention wander enough to loosen her hold on you. You kicked at the ground to push yourself away from her, the brambles wrapped around your leg making you grunt as you managed to put some distance between you and her.

She sat up, panicking. Halsin was with Rath, the children must have alerted him and found Halsin on the path.

“Halsin, I can explain-” Kagha stammered.

“Your fate will be decided tomorrow. You let yourself be devoured by power, and for that you will be judged,” Halsin said, trying to restrain his anger. “Rath, take her to one of the cells.”

His eyes fell on you on the floor, bloodied, his fist clenching until his knuckles were white.

“I'll look after her,” he said, walking slowly towards you.

You tried to calm your breathing, to take your mind off the fact that you'd just had a brush with death and it had left its scarlet signature on your throat.

He knelt down beside you, examining your leg, surrounded by brambles. He brushed away the thorns and the vine, letting his hand fly over it, but leaving open wounds all the same.

You watched him as he examined you, and noticed that he too was injured. Blood was beading from his forehead and his salient arms were covered in scratches. 

His eyes came back to you, and he brought his hand to your chin. Your body instinctively recoiled, and his eyes softened. Tenderly, he ran his fingers over the drying blood on your throat, his eyes drifting to the arm you were holding, which was staining your hand red.

He sighed, and the muscle in his jaw tensed, your cheeks warming at the sight. He turned towards you again, wrapping one arm under your knees while the other encircled your back.

“Hold on to me,” he indicated as your able-bodied arm came around his neck.

He lifted you as if you weighed absolutely nothing, pressing your body against his and making sure he didn't hurt you.

He began to walk, taking you towards what appeared to be his own quarters.

“What happened?” he asked softly.

You pressed your head against his chest, sighing as you gradually came down from all that emotion.

“The children brought me back here to read a letter. Kagha has joined forces with the Shadow Druids, and she intends to perform The Rite of Thorns and cut the grove off from the rest of the world.”

“The Rite of Thorns?” repeated Halsin, not quite believing it.

“Mhm,” you hummed, sighing, a nervous chuckle running up your throat, “she doesn't fancy us.”

He walked through the doorway into his room, which was deeply filled with plants, bags of herbs and a bookcase full of nature reading. He set you down on his bed, which was absolutely huge. It was strange that an elf should grow so tall, and the bed reminded you of that. You looked round the four corners of his room, filled with plants climbing the walls and unvarnished wood.

Halsin didn't ask you any questions at the time, suspecting that your mind was wandering between what had just happened and the present moment. However, as he closed the door to his room to avoid any further worries, he couldn't help asking you a question: “You seem surprised,” he asked as he turned to his shelves to prepare his remedies. “Why?”

His question snapped you out of your reverie, and you turned to face him. His back was facing you, and your thoughts took a different turn for a moment. Enough, however, for your cheeks to heat up.

“It's just... I thought you were so connected to nature that you would just sleep outside on the grass.”

He chuckled softly, turning to the table that was to serve as his desk as well as his workbench.

“Most of the time that's the case, but you have to admit that the comfort of a bed is sometimes more pleasant than the rock, or a rod that ploughs your back.”

“Don't you sleep in bear form, though ?” you asked, trying to adjust your posture so as not to let drops of blood fall onto his sheets.

“I do, but I can't stay in its shape forever.” he stated, pressing herbs, fats and other ingredients into a mortar. “Going back to instincts at all times can do no good to us all.”

You hummed, nodding in agreement.

Your eyes fell on your ripped sleeve, the light glinting off your open wound as it drifted down your leg. The fabric of your trousers was speckled with black spots, the blood taking precedence over its original colour.

You wanted to apologise, for the blood, for your presence here, for the trouble your people had caused. But could you blame your people for simply living? Sure, children pilfered, and the history attributed to your race didn't help prejudice, but to the point of closing down an entire place simply by your presence? No, you couldn't apologise.

Not when you were helping them, not when you were doing your best to contribute to the serenity of the grove.

Not when that crazy Kagha had almost taken your life on the sole pretext of your appearance.

“Why did you leave ?” The question escaped your lips, a little more shakily than you had hoped from the tightness in your throat.

Halsin turned to you, frowning. 

“Last night, were my words flat of meaning?” you could feel an intense knot in your throat.

He came towards you slowly, bowl and leaves placed on the ground as he knelt in front of you. Even so, he reached your sitting height. His lips were parted, his gaze soft and attentive.

Your heart broke, and your voice cracked as the beast of sadness clawed at your eyes and throat.

“You left me, after I told you I needed help,” you cried, hot tears of anger and exhaustion running down your cheeks.

“I-” began Halsin.

“You left me.” you repeated, your lips and chin quivering as you saw the reflection of your demonic eyes in Halsin's. You lowered your head, closing your eyes as you brought the back of your good hand to cover them.

All of a sudden, everything fell apart. The quarrels you had to watch over every day, the hard work you put in to make yourself look right, your escape from death tonight and the constant insults and hatred took their toll on your strength and made you break down.

Your face twisted with fatigue, tears trickling down your nose to your chin. You twitched, you were so tired.

Then, like someone covering you with a warm blanket, Halsin came and took you in his arms. He wasn't afraid of your dark eyes, or of being pierced by your horns in his arms, or of your claws that could be used as a weapon. His arms wrapped around you, and you felt so small and safe in them.

“I'm sorry,” he said softly as one of his hands caressed your back.

You began to sob again, your hands coming to rest on his broad back and holding him close to you as if this candour were going to vanish at any moment. You didn't know that you needed this embrace. To be held, to be comforted, to be safe in his arms. He didn't say anything, just stroked your back and hair gently, letting your tears and emotions flow into the silence.

When it seemed that you had no more tears to shed, and that you had calmed down, you remained like that against him.

“I'm sorry,” you mumbled against his shoulder. “for the blood, and for screaming at you and... for the trouble of my people.”

Halsin pulled away from you, and you regretted his action. Part of you wished you'd stayed there, in his arms, talking softly with an open heart.

The thought that your reaction would have been different if it hadn't been him who had embraced you came to mind, and your still swollen eyes met his, full of tenderness and understanding. He took your face in his hands, and your head seemed very small at that moment.

“This is far from being your fault, little bird,” he assured you, his thumb brushing away the remnants of tears on your cheeks. “I left you alone in the face of the fiercest of enemies: ignorance.”

“Yes, but I could have probably done better, at keeping the peace of the Grove in one piece.”

“Look where this led you,” he said softly as he eyed your leg, your arm, and your cut lip for longer than the previous two before coming back to your eyes. “You'll never stop compromising your own well being to help others, will you ?”

“I guess that makes something we have in common.” You smiled, and it was contagious enough for Halsin to mirror you.

“I cannot deny it, but I cannot deny the fact that you having been hurt because of my mistakes and blindness fills me with intense dread and guilt.” One of his hands ran along your shoulder until it came to the cut of your arm, his fingers pinching the fabric as his second hand came to hold your arm. ”May I ?”

You nodded, and Halsin waited no longer before tearing off your sleeve with total ease and setting the fabric aside. He stepped back slightly, placing both hands just above your knee, his gaze on you as he waited for you to confirm. You nodded once more, and the fabric, stronger than your shirt, tore like the transparent film covering the egg yolks. 

Your leg and arm were burning, tolerable of course, but that didn't stop it from being extremely unpleasant. He took a basin, placing both your feet in it, and conjured up water which ran down your legs and cleaned your wounds.

Halsin watched the wounds, muttering under his breath words that you didn't fully understand. The only thing you could translate from him at the moment was his frustration.

“It's going to be a bit cold,” he warned, almost in a whisper.

He took the green goo he'd concocted, spreading it with his fingers over your wounds as you shuddered and breathed in through your teeth.

“Why not simply use a healing spell?” you asked as he placed a leaf on the poultice.

“Kagha fights with poison, her scimitars can be coated with it by occasions, and I don't doubt that her link to the Shadow Druids might have altered her magic to the point where these thorns could be poisoned as well.” He turned to the next wound on your leg, “And I prefer to use real remedies if that's the case.”

You watched him at work, carefully applying the mixture and then pressing a leaf onto it.

“Are your wounds related to the reason you left today?” you asked.

His eyes drifted to the scratches on his arms, as if he'd forgotten about them.

“Yes, it so happens that one of the druids came to warn me in the morning of a problem not far from the forest. I suppose you see who Madame Ethel is?”

“I replaced her today at her stall,” you replied.

“We went to her house, it seemst that the Sunlit Wetlands have been profoundly changed by an evil that Ethel spread. She was a hag.”

You frowned. “Was?” the past tense made you doubt things had gone as planned.

“I went there on my own and as I entered the swamps I realised that something was wrong. It was when I got to Ethel's cottage that I realised her true identity, leading me to tracking her down deep underground to get to the bottom of it. She poisoned this land, I couldn't let her get away with destroying nature forever. I ended her henchmen and took care of her right after. A hag knows how to defend herself, she left me with a few meagre memories that will be gone soon enough but she was a tough opponent.”

Halsin had been out all day, investigating and risking his life to flush out a Hag who was deceiving the people in the grove into thinking she could help them. Who knows the next person she would have picked out and brought back to her cursed shack?

You also knew that Halsin preferred to avoid bloodshed as much as possible, and that he had spent a whole day killing creatures in the marshes. The guilt was creeping up your cheeks and up the back of your neck.

“And I screamed at you for doing something right, by the hells I'm so stupid,” you sighed as you brought your hand to your forehead.

Halsin smiled, regaining your eyes as he finished with your leg. “You had your reasons to be angry. I don't blame you, I don't know how I would have reacted either if I were in your situation.” He straightened up, dipping his fingers into the cup again before gently spreading the contents over your wound. “I never thought you had so much to endure by yourself. Between us both, I am the one that should be sorry.”

You said nothing, simply watching him at work. Once the last leaf was in place, he looked at your split lip, and your cheeks heated up like the inferno.

Halsin hooked your chin, his thumb pressing just below your lip as he watched the cut with a look you couldn't quite make out. Your cheek had swollen slightly, Kagha hadn't gone easy on you.

“Punch?” he asked simply, without taking his eyes off your lips.

“Mhm,” you simply hummed, hoping with all your heart that Halsin wouldn't feel your frantic heartbeat on your lip.

His thumb flew over the skin of your lip without ever touching it, murmuring: “Te curo.”

Your lip sealed, painlessly, with the electric sensation of magic emanating from his fingers.

He moved away, preparing to clean his utensils, but you stopped him. “May I?” you asked, pointing to his wounds. You wanted to help him in return, to do something, anything.

“It's just a few scratches,” he reassured you, “I can take care of those myself.”

“You took care of me,” you said as you tenderly took the bowl from between his hands, “Let me look after you.” He sighed, knowing you wouldn't flinch. He sat down properly in front of you, almost between your legs, placing his hands on the sheets not far from your hips, ready.

Just as he had done before, you said the incantation: “Aqua Pura.”

The water ran down his arms, cleaning his wounds until it ran up his temple to clear the cracked blood on his forehead.

“I didn't know you practised spells,” he said, surprised, “How did you learn?”

You dipped your fingers into the generous remains of the mixture, straightening up to gently apply it to his wounds.

“We were travelling during a summer so hot it felt like the underworld had swallowed us up again,” you began. “Hunger was an agony and madness we could endure, but the lack of water was starting to genuinely affect us. Luckily, some druids took us in for a few days in their temple. While some druids-to-be were training to learn spells, I was allowed to learn some of them alongside them. Nothing really extraordinary, just some healing spells, but above all a spell that would prove indispensable if the thirst returned: the creation of water.” You placed a few leaves delicately on his wounds, feeling his attentive gaze on your face.

“I told myself that, by coming here, I would find the precious help that had been given to me and my people,” you moved on to his second arm, “but I don't know if I was right.”

You felt an electrifying warmth settle on your thigh, Halsin's hand having rested tenderly in compassion on it.

“I'm terribly sorry that my absence and ignorance led you to doubt the help you were entitled to receive. I promise you that I will do everything in my power to put an end to this nonsense.”

You gave him a tender smile. You trusted him, after all he had just saved your life. You tilted your head to one side, your fingers tucking behind his pointed ear a stray lock of hair that must have fallen out of his bun during a day full of fighting. You applied the last of the poultice to his wound.

“I'm grateful that you came tonight,” you said. You cupped his face, looking into his eyes before placing a kiss on his forehead. “Thank you.”

Halsin seemed surprised by the touch, but smiled softly, straightening up and turning to face a wooden chest of drawers. He pulled out a shirt and trousers which, from what you could imagine just by looking at them in the half-light, would be far too big for you.

“You can take my quarters for the night-” He paused for a moment, watching your arm, and clutched the clothes in his hand. “Would you... need help putting these on ?”

Despite Halsin's care and attention to help with your injuries, your arm and leg were still hurting intensely. You couldn't find words that wouldn't make you sound desperate, so you simply nodded, your heart racing again.

He came to kneel beside you once more.

“Can you stand up for me?”

You tried to stand up, pushing on your good leg to keep yourself upright. You almost lost your balance, but Halsin took hold of your waist to keep you in place. Keeping his eyes on you, he took one of your hands and placed it on his shoulder.

“Hold on to me,” he offered.

He brought his two giant hands to your belt buckle, loosening it and unbuttoning your trousers, sliding them gently down your legs, taking care not to move the poultices. His fingers brushed against your skin, under which little fireworks sparkled.

Once the trousers were off, he took the ones he'd pulled out for you in his hands, a sort of sirwal pants that was loose-fitting and wouldn't touch your wounds too closely. 

The fabric was thin, and his warm hands running up your legs sent shivers down your spine. You hoped he wouldn't notice them, that the half-light and the cold on your bare skin would be enough of an alibi. You wrapped your tail around your leg so that it didn't stick out too far from your pants.

He tied the lace of the latter around your waist, not tightening it too much. Then he raised his eyes to yours, his hands still on your hips, gently pulling you back onto the bed to sit up.

“May I?” he asked again.

And again you nodded.

His hands moved up from your hips to your waist, gripping the sides of your shirt and helping to pull you out of the fabric. The cool night air spread over your back, but its freshness couldn't quell the fire in the back of your neck as Halsin's eyes bore down on you.

There was a moment of hesitation, of expectation almost. Waiting for a gesture, a sound, a look that would mean yes.

But Halsin inhaled deeply, taking the shirt between his fingers, rolling up the sleeves so that you could slip it on without worry. The shirt seemed as long as a dress, reaching halfway up your thighs.

He pulled the covers over his bed, opening them so that you could slide under them.

“Get some sleep, if you have a problem, I won't be far,” he said as he tucked you in properly.

“Okay,” you assured him.

He looked at you for a moment, his hand coming to brush a strand from your face.

“Sleep well,” he said before standing up.

“Thank you,” you murmured.

And he left.

Your lungs let out a breath they'd been unconsciously holding. You took the duvet and covered your head as if it could hide you and mute your heart.

Your duties as leader had, for most of your life by now, forced you to put aside advances or the idea of romance to keep your head on straight. But Halsin was getting in the way, shattering the wall of protection you'd built for yourself.

You could feel the fabric of his shirt on your body, a caramelised smell of wood, tall grass and warm stone permeating the fabric. His smell.

You surrendered yourself to its comfort.

It didn't take you long to fall asleep. The long day's work and your near-death experience had made you very tired.

It was the sun streaming through the windows that woke you up, its warm caress on your arm and face providing a pleasant morning kiss. You had no idea what time it was, you didn't know how long you'd been asleep, but it had been more than restorative.

Swapping the sensation of rocks and gravel scraping your back every night for sleeping on a straw mattress with a real bed worked wonders. What's more, your arm and leg weren't hurting so much any more. Halsin's poultices had sucked out all the poison they could, and the wounds had largely healed.

You tried to sit up, then to stand up. You took off the trousers, turning them the other way round and putting them on again to let your tail slip under the lace so that you didn't have to keep it wrapped around your leg.

There was still a little weakness and numbness in your leg, but fortunately it wasn't unpleasant enough to stop you from walking.

You rolled the fabric around your ankles to avoid tripping over the length of the pant legs, and walked out of the room. The place seemed deserted, so you set off back outside the Druid quarters to find your people. They must have been worried, and you feared that the absence of their leaders had led to a catastrophe while you were resting.

The druids' cave was empty too, which was most unusual.

You reached the stone door, passed through it and fell silent.

Around the fountain of Silvanus, the druids had gathered. The rite had stopped, much to your relief, but there was a real sense of tension.

Kagha was on trial before her entire circle.

You didn't move any further, not daring to violate this sacred and serious moment.

“Kagha,” Halsin spoke as he stood in the centre of the fountain, high up where the idol of Silvanus once stood. “During my absence, two papers representing evidence of your connection with the Shadow Druids were found. The first,” he pointed to the letter you had read the day before, “was found in your chest here in the Grove. And the second,” he held up a second letter for all to see, passing these two to the other Druids so they could all read them, “in the swamps.”

You crossed your arms, attentive.

“Yesterday, following rumours that proved to be true, I began a cleansing of the sickness that had taken over these lands. During this operation, however, on my way to one of our ancient sacred trees, I found this paper in a hole in a false bark.”

The druids' eyebrows furrowed one by one as they read and heard Halsin's arguments.

“The hatred and contempt of others for Kagha led her to join the Shadow Druids.”

There were shocked murmurs and surprised looks were directed at Kagha, who seemed to be dying of shame and guilt.

“These ideas and behaviours led her to want to perform The Rite of Thorns,” he turned to you, his gaze resting on yours, “and to come to violence.”

He called your name, and in an instant all eyes were on you. 

He came down the steps of the fountain, coming to you so that you could lean on him and walk to your people.

“Kagha even went so far as to attack the leader of the tieflings and deliberately wound her in an attempt to kill her.”

Shock was rising among the druids, and your people all came to you as soon as Halsin had brought you close enough to them, who were waiting on the steps leading to the fountain.

Halsin turned back to the druids.

“Many stories were relayed to me during the night by the Tiefling, accounts unworthy of the status of druid and protector of nature. Kagha was prepared to kill a simple, frightened child in need of help.”

Kagha looked down at her feet, her face contorted with guilt. 

“Every druids in our circle will exchange as to your fate, Kagha, for we cannot remain indifferent to your actions.”

Two druids came and grabbed Kagha's arms, leading her towards the stone door. The rest gathered round, chatting frantically amongst themselves.

The children hugged you, tears in their eyes as they asked you what had happened. The parents and the others were furious that this pest had had the audacity to touch you. Zevlor pushed them aside, insisting that you were hurt and needed some air after all that had happened.

“You scared the hells out of us, are you alright ?” he asked.

“Everything's fine, more fear than harm,” you reassured him. “I've spoken to Halsin, things are going to be alright.”

Halsin walked towards you, and Zevlor took the opportunity to move all the tiefling away so that he and you could have a private conversation.

“Slept well I presume?” he asked, a charming smile gracing his lips.

“Best sleep I've had in ages,” you confirmed, leaning against a wall to keep yourself upright and not put too much weight on your leg.

“How are you feeling?” he questioned, placing his palm on your forehead to see if you had a fever, then taking your arm in hand to roll up the sleeve and see the state of your wounds.

“Better than I expected. I don't know what would've happened if you hadn't shown up.”

“I'd rather not imagine,” he assured. “I spoke to Zevlor and the others last night to explain the situation, and their explanations were very surprising. I honestly had no idea what was going on here.”

“I think we came very close to a catastrophe,” you confirmed, your eyes riveted on his.

“Why did you lie,” he began, “when I came back and Arabella was crying?”

“I thought... blaming each other wasn't going to solve anything. I just hoped that Kagha would understand that she had made a mistake.” you say, your eyes drifting over the fountain which, until recently, was an object of constant torment. “Besides, I was alone in a whole room of druids who were supposed to obey her, I didn't know how things could develop with so much tension.”

“I understand why you did what you did, but I beg you: if ever in the future any incident of this kind should happen again, I ask you to come and see me and tell me about it. What do you say, little bird?”

The nickname for the second time made your heart leap into your chest.

“All right,” you assured him.

“Good,” he turned to the group of druids still chatting. “I must get back, but be assured we will have a long discussion necessary for the balance of the grove after this.”

“I'll wait patiently,” you smiled at him as he turned to leave.

The verdict came, and Kagha was exiled. Halsin came to find you, and a long conversation about recent events ensued.

At the end of it, he came to the conclusion that he had to ensure that his presence was  in the daily life of the grove until you could all leave peacefully.

You and Halsin looked after the harmony of the Grove between the druids and the tiefling, while you helped him with the purification of the land.

There were many things you and Halsin didn't say, glances that lingered, closeness that went beyond the merely professional, and a tension in the air that needed to be broken.

The goblin camp that had so far caused problems was deserted thanks to some travellers, and soon a party was organised for the tieflings' departure.

The evening before departure came, and the Bosquet fountain was decorated as if in a real fairytale. Garlands of magical fireflies hung in the air, butterflies fluttered everywhere, and the dishes scented the night air.

Alfira played her lute with other druids for music, Vollo told the children fantastic stories, and everyone danced and enjoyed themselves.

You were wearing a dress sewn by the druids in gratitude for peace, with a relaxed, elegant cut, made from their own fabrics and detailed with lace made from spider's webs. Your horns were adorned with jewels, your eyes highlighted with make-up and perfumed with delicate flower essences.

It was Halsin's turn to arrive at the fountain, wearing a superb suit in shades of brown and green that blended perfectly to underline his elegance.

He greeted a few people, his gaze roaming over the crowds before finally settling on you, his eyes roving up and down your silhouette in what seemed like a trance. You smiled, bringing the cup of your drink to your lips.

He moved towards you after greeting most of the people.

“I almost didn't recognise you,” he admitted, “I'm glad I haven't been drinking yet, if I had I would have choked uponseeing you, and I wouldn't have had all my wits about me to properly appreciate this rare opportunity to see you like this.”

Heat rose to your cheeks.

“I hope my glass will let me hear and understand all the lovely things you have to say to me.”

“Then I can start with the most serious part,” he smiled, facing you, “I wish to travel with you.”

It was you who nearly choked at the announcement, turning to him, confused.

“Travel with us?”

“Only if you agree to receive me,” he continued, not wishing to impose this idea in any way. “The Shadow Lands still haunt me and I know that you must inevitably pass through them to get to Baldur's Gate. I simply ask to travel with you, to give you my help if need be, and…” his hand along his thigh came gently to take yours, “to spend more time with you.”

Your heart was racing in your chest, and you grinned until your cheeks ached and you started to laugh.

Halsin looked deeply confused, had you had more than one drink already, or had he simply said something ridiculous ?

“What is it?” he asked, smiling.

“Nothing, it's just," you composed yourself, pressing his hand in yours, "I was wondering when you were going to ask me all that.”

His face relaxed, relief lowering his shoulders.

In the distance, Alfira and the orchestra were now playing softer music. 

He raised your clasped hands.

“Could I have the undying honour of dancing with you?” he asked.

“It would be my greatest pleasure,” you confirmed as you joined the group of dancers. You put your free hand on his shoulder, and his came to rest in the hollow of your waist.

“How long have you been thinking about asking me this, to travel with us ?” you questioned.

“Since the trial of Kagha, when things started to get better at the Grove,” he said, waltzing gently with you.

“And,” your smile widened, tilting your head back slightly, ’how long have you been thinking about wanting to spend more time with me?’

He couldn't help but smile back. ‘Since our discussion under the stars.

“About the sheep and the rose ?”

“Precisely the sheep and the rose,” he agreed. He moistened his lips, his eyes falling on yours. “And then the next night, after Kagha had wounded you.”

You remembered that night as if it had been etched in your memory forever. As well as the fear, the pain and the fatigue, you could never forget the feel of Halsin's hands on your body, or his smell, or his eyes on you.

“I have to admit I could barely refrain myself from keeping my touches polite,” he admitted, lowering his lips to your ear. "My hands were aching to linger on you."

“I wish you had never left them from me.” you confirmed in a whisper, his voice and breath on your neck making you shiver.

Halsin hummed, his chest vibrating against you. You were aware of how close you were, how the air you shared had thinned.

“Fortunately,” he murmured, his hand roaming over your back and bringing you a little closer to him, ”this is something I can remedy for both of us.”

Your breaths spread across your cheeks, your noses brushing.

“I want to have you by my side, in every land we roam, in every place we stay, under any sky that covers us.” he whispered as you felt the warm, tender skin of his lips graze yours. “I want you.”

Neither of you waited any longer to kiss, abandoning yourselves, to the feelings, to the envy, to the sweetness of the night.

Cheers of joy echoed around you, applause resounding throughout the grove. Halsin smiled against your lips, his hand cupping your face as he continued to kiss you.

Everyone celebrated your love, which had no intention of waning.

[intothedysphoria]

Billy’s therapist probably didn’t mean to be patronising but he very much came off that way. Something about being in a wheelchair now made people think he was simple.

It was CIA appointed or whoever the assholes who’d dragged him into hospital were. The therapist felt like he should have been a part of the Men In Black and Billy half expected that he was going to get his memory erased.

Instead, after Billy signed several NDA’s about the time he was possessed by a fucked up alien thing, he was told to draw. So he drew. He drew his mom bathed in the California sun, Max trailing a muddy skateboard around the house. Heather when she was still alive. Neil covered in bulbous sores, just because. He didn’t draw Steve, even if he wanted to. He wasn’t going to get his boyfriend into more shit than he already was.

The man pursed his lips then asked Billy if he knew why he was there. A sardonic answer almost danced on his tongue until he remembered these guys probably had Max. He shook his head no instead.

“We’re moving you out of Hawkins Billy” came the crisp response. For Billy’s own safety, of course. No cover up here.

They were not moving him back to California, even after Billy threatened to stab a guard. California would be too obvious of a move.

They were dumping him in yet another shithole but this one was in Texas. To live with his maternal grandfather, who Billy hadn’t met since he was three years old.

He didn’t get to say goodbye to anyone. All he had were Max and Steve’s house numbers balled up in his fist as he boarded the plane.

His vague memories of “grandpa Patrick” were of a gruff, surprisingly fit old man who scared the shit out of Neil. Memory did not disappoint.

Patrick had served 32 years in the Air Force before working as low level management on an oil rig and retiring soon after. He was a piece of work when it came to bending house rules but it came from a place of genuine caution not the desire of instilling fear.

Since the past months had destroyed any hope of going to college, Patrick signed him up for wheelchair basketball. Under the surname O’Connor, not Hargrove.

Phone usage was limited from 5pm until 6pm every day, because Patrick was perhaps overly concerned about bills and was also convinced that all phones were bugged. Billy tried to call Max and Steve every day. And every day either Susan or Mrs Harrington picked up. It was driving Billy up the fucking wall. What was the point of having a boyfriend or sister if you weren’t allowed to call them?

Billy’s aunt Marie had noticed that he was becoming steadily more despondent by the day, so she gently suggested writing a letter. As long as he didn’t use his old name and wrote with his left hand he should be fine.

Max’s letter took about 10 minutes. They knew each other so well all Billy really needed to establish was that she was safe, she was coping and she wasn’t getting too much shit at school. Billy already knew how she’d be feeling in this situation.

Steve’s letter took much longer. Trying to judge how your boyfriend of a little under a year would react to you suddenly reappearing in his life was a little more complicated. Especially when you had to drop in hints as to who you actually were.

Billy struggled through emphasising that he loved Steve, leaving him had been hell and he’d met several actual cowboys since the move. After that he really just had to wait.

Steve sent him back a letter with tiny butterflies drawn on the front. He was always doodling and on their first date Billy had been told his eyes reminded Steve of butterflies. It was a difference from all his past dates who’d told him they looked like the sea.

It was a long letter for Steve. He was dyslexic and despised writing, would constantly need to be bribed with affection to finish a book report but Steve sent practically a novel. He was bored and lonely in Hawkins, had a job in a video rental space and was working his way up to going to college. There were several paragraphs asking about the rules of wheelchair basketball followed by several more asking if he’d bought a cowboy hat.

He loved Billy more than he could explain and hoped he could come back soon.

Billy felt asleep with the letter tucked into his pocket and resolved to find Steve again.

One day.

For @shieldofiron @dragonflylady77 and also @oopsiedaisiesbaby for giving me the idea of Texan Billy

[pattyaifread]

Tales of Symphonia: Dawn of the New World - Hatenai Omoi Vol. 2, Richter Abend Excerpts

I translated the first and last parts of Richter's chapter in the second volume of Tales of Symphonia: Dawn of the New World - Feelings Without End by Sara Yajima.

The chapter begins post-game with Richter alone in Ginnungagap, and he starts to reminisce about the time he spent with Aster. The novel covers up from just before the time he got captured and locked away in the Research Academy, up to Aster's death.

Occasionally, he felt a throbbing sensation on his forehead. Richter Abend lightly touched the spot with his fingers, reaffirming that Ratatosk’s core was implanted there. It had been some time since the Summon Spirit Ratatosk had left Ginnungagap, and although the strange sensation hadn’t disappeared, he was now used to it.

Just how much time had passed since then?

Ratatosk split his body from his core and returned to that world as Emil Castagnier, and should be spending his time as a short-lived human alongside Marta Lualdi and their friends. Perhaps this throbbing sensation is responding to Emil’s feelings, Richter thought.

He knew it was a little too convenient to think that Ratatosk living as Emil was making up for what should have been Aster’s life. However, that thought was the only solace for Richter who was sealed inside Ginnungagap as a human sacrifice, and had to live with the core.

Nothing happened in this place. The flow of time couldn’t be felt. Even the demons from Niflheim were silent.

“A thousand years.” Ratatosks’s voice rose to his mind. “It will take a thousand years to separate mana from all living beings on this planet. After mana is no longer needed to support this world, the remaining mana will be used to create a new seal. I’ll release you then.”

I suppose it’s an offer I should be grateful for considering I sold my soul to demons and tried to destroy the world.

Richter’s lips curved into a smile at the edges, and as he gazed at the dark space spreading out before him, he recalled his best friend.

They had read books together, devoted their all to research, fiercely debated with one another, and had shared bread on their travels together. Aster was carefree and never discriminated against him, and in the end all that was left behind was a cold corpse.

Aster… Even once I’m released, you won’t exist in the world that I return to…

Richter wondered what that foolishly good-natured Aster would think of him spending a thousand years in the place of his death, and quietly closed his eyes.

※

—---------

After they enter Ginnungagap

“Richter!” Aster called for Richter. “Look. Over there.”

Richter followed Aster’s line of sight, and there he saw a being looking down upon them. Aster took one step towards it.

“Aster…”

Aster signaled it would be okay and made a fist, and swallowed hard while nodding. “You’re Ratatosk, the Summon Spirit of the Great Kharlan Tree, right?” His shaking voice seemed to reach the being.

“Some have called me by that name.” Ratatosk’s voice was deep and rattled the air. Those on the other side of the door reacted to that voice and became boisterous.

Richter took notice that Ratatosk’s gaze was fixed above them, and moved to stand shoulder to shoulder with Aster. “Ratatosk,” Richter called out as he gazed upon the Summon Spirit, “right now, the flow of mana in the world is out of balance and is in a state of chaos. We believe that to restore that balance, your power is needed.”

“Even if I restore the balance, the world will once again fall into chaos without a tree,” Ratatosk coldly stated.

“We heard that a new tree was born!” Aster started speaking again, this time with a firm voice. “But from what we researched, the spirit of the new tree doesn’t have the power to control the flow of mana like you do.”

“Hmph. And?”

“I beg of you! Please use the Centurions to restore the balance of mana in the world! If you do, the world will be saved!”

There was a momentary silence. Then suddenly, the Summon Spirit’s voice boomed. “Awaken, Centurions! Form pacts with monsters, and restore the balance of mana. And then eradicate humanity who destroyed my tree!”

W-what?!

Richter doubted his ears.

“W-what on earth are you saying!” Aster went white as a sheet.

“I thought you wanted to save the world?”

“Why do you have to kill people to do that?!” Aster picked a fight with the Summon Spirit.

Ratatosk became furious at his words. The room trembled with his next words. “Who was it who destroyed the Great Kharlan Tree?! Humans and half-elves, that’s who! So I’ll destroy them in return!”

“B-but a new World Tree was born!” Aster replied frantically.

“And in time you’ll destroy it once more. Your kind are nothing but parasites to this world!”

“That’s not true!” Aster looked hurt, and continued to frantically appeal. “Humans and half-elves are an important part of this world, and—”

This is bad, Richter thought. At that very moment—

“Silence!” Ratatosk’s callous voice roared.

?!?!

Richter saw white fly by at the edge of his vision. Aster was hit by the full brunt of Ratatosk’s power, and went flying. He crashed down against the floor violently, and continued to tumble. By the time his body had stopped rolling, all Richter saw a white lump that was twisted unnaturally, and Aster was no longer moving.

“Aster?!” Richter yelled out, wide-eyed.

“See? The death of one parasite had no effect on the world.”

“Aster?!” Richter approached Aster unsteadily. Why was he yelling for him even though he knew it was too late? Even though nothing would change in the world? His feet stopped.

“Aster… Aster.” Richter turned to look behind him. “You bastard! How could you… How dare you do that to Aster!”

Richter grabbed his sword and axe as the blood rushed to his head. He rushed towards the Summon Spirit.

“Aaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!!!!”

Ratatosk recoiled at the sword raised high. The sharp edge of the blade cut into the Summon Spirit. “Guh!”

If I kill Ratatosk, the world will fall into ruin. Richter realized this fact, but it mattered not.

“How dare you do that to Aster! Mortal Summer!”

Flames burst out from the swinging axe and raced across the floor in the space between him and Ratatosk. However, it had no effect on the spirit.

“Dammit!”

He threw his axe and it cut through Ratatosk’s leg and lodged into the floor. Taking that chance, Richter grabbed his sword with both arms and raised it above his head. “Towering Inferno!”

It didn’t matter who his opponent was. He went on the attack against Ratatosk who was blinded by the dizzying light. 

But then at the perfect timing— “Ain Soph Aur!”—Ratatosk sent the axe flying and retaliated.

“Aghhhhh!!!!” Richter felt like his body would break into pieces upon impact, but scraped together all his remaining power for one last attack.

I don’t care if I die. Aster was already killed like some bug!

“Tch!” Ratatosk clicked his tongue at the tenacious half-elf.

On the verge of insanity and death, Richter raised his sword once more above his head as it gleamed. Through the violent bursts of light, he had just barely glimpsed Ratatosk’s figure bending back. When the light faded, the spirit was nowhere to be seen.

“Where… did you go…” Richter was breathing heavily and collapsed to his knees. He then noticed a shining red gem rolling on the floor.

What… is that? Don’t tell… me… that’s… Rata…tosk? The sound of blood gushing out felt like it would tear apart his eardrums. He crouched down for a moment.

Aster!

He started to crawl towards Aster with a desperate look on his face.

…Aster!!

A blue figure passed by several times overhead. Richter didn’t notice that Centurion Aqua was there at all. She hid herself in the darkness. “As..ter…”

He finally grasped the edge of that white coat. With a sliver of hope, Richter looked up towards that twisted body. However, with a pale face and closed eyes, Aster was unmoving.

“I always figured I’d hand it all over to you once you eventually left the Research Academy and went out into the world.” “I want to entrust everything to you, Richter. When I die, please make sure my research lives on.” “Rather than interactive, it’s more like circulation!”

Whose voices were those? It echoed repeatedly in his head, causing pain. “Rata…tosk… I’ll never… forgive you!”

Richter picked up the gem—Ratatosk’s core—and though he lacked knowledge surrounding it, he knew he should destroy it.

While holding Aster up, he thought to go grab the core, but his consciousness was already dim due to the wound. Even so, he struggled with all his might to support his body, but just sitting up was his limit.

Suddenly, a black shadow jumped out of midair.

What?!

The black shadow swiftly grabbed the core in its mouth and ran off into the darkness.

“D-damn… it… Augh!”

When he looked down, he noticed that Aster’s white clothes had been dyed crimson in his arms.

Everything was over. Richter had finally understood that. He would never come back to life. Knowing that, he couldn’t contain his cries. Using the remainder of his life, he wanted to become empty.

“Aster! Aster! ASTER!!”

Richter slanted over and collapsed onto the floor as his screams continued reverberating.

※

Just how long had he immersed himself in memories of Aster?

Whether it was only for an instant, or for a year or even ten, it made no difference to his current predicament. When he opened his eyes, the unchanging view of Ginnungagap spread out before him. If he had been left like that, he no doubt would have lost his life, he recalled.

By the time he came to, Centurion Aqua was staring at him worriedly. “It’s all my fault for taking you there in the first place…”

She had taken Richter, who was on the verge of death, to a safe place and nursed him back to health. She had greatly lamented the death of Richter’s friend, and mourned. So she had listened to his story, and opened her heart to him. Richter made contact with the demons, and exchanged a contract with them: “If you open the door to the demonic realm, Aster will be revived.” Aqua of the eight Centurions betrayed the Summon Spirit Ratatosk, and chose to work together with Richter.

Richter gave Solum’s core that he had received from the demons to Brute, the leader of the Sylvaranti Liberation Front, and in return received a high ranking in the Vanguard’s troops.

The Summon Spirit Ratatosk was the face of Richter’s revenge–a face stolen from Aster. And now, he had given his body to that very same Summon Spirit and was spending a thousand years in the place where Aster had been killed. Richter had begun to gradually think he was finally making peace with everything.

I wonder what Emil is up to now.

He wondered if Emil was forging his own path forward together with Marta.

Richter had a secret hope that he would never dare voice.

He hoped that once Emil saw his life through as a human, that he would return to this place in Emil’s form. If it was Emil in old age, then perhaps he would be able to get a glimpse of Aster’s life, who he should have watched over. If it was the sixteen year old Emil… Richter let out a faint laugh. It seemed like something Ratatosk would do. He wouldn’t mind spending a thousand years here in that case.

He would gladly repay that kindness for the sake of the world that gave birth to Aster and allowed them to meet. He prayed to be able to once again research day in and out alongside Aster once he was released. He knew it was impossible, but that feeling revived in Richter’s chest again and again, carrying him away to those nostalgic days.

He heard giggling as he began to space out again. He cleared his throat. Once again, there were giggles.

Centurion Aqua and Centurion Tenebrae—they dispersed to escape at that moment. He wasn’t able to see them, but he could sense them. Those two, along with the rest of the Centurions, were busy controlling monsters and working on separating mana from the world, but occasionally they would return and tease Richter. It was their own form of consideration.

Richter put his hand against the core on his forehead. He was looking forward to hearing about Ratatosk’s happy travels as a human. Richter believed that somewhere in there, he would find proof that Aster was still alive.

End

Flashback quotes:

The first one is after the worlds were merged, and half-elves were released. The line is from Richter, who never thought he'd be able to leave. The second one is from Aster, when he's lamenting he only has so many more decades left as a human, and wishes he could continue to research for eternity. (This is just before they enter Ginnungagap) (Sorry kid).

The third one is Rilena, talking about the relationship between Aster and Richter and how well they've been able to get along. They're using scientific terms here rather than normal terms to describe human relationships, in terms of humans and half-elves getting along, so out of context it doesn't make much sense. But she's saying that they built a really well relationship, to the point she's even a little jealous of it.

[fanficapologist]

Of Dragons and Maelstroms

Themes and Warnings: slow burn, enemies to lovers, blood, violence, explicit language, sexual violence, period-typical misogyny, sexual themes, smut, tension, marriage, jealousy, pregnancy, childbirth, miscarriage, attempted sexual assault, breastfeeding, major character death, divergent timelines

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood/Game of Thrones characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Chapter One Hundred

Despite the turmoil swirling around the realm, the days on Dragonstone seemed almost deceptively calm. The once heavy grey clouds that had hung over the island for weeks began to thin, allowing the sun to break through and bathe the volcanic rock in rare warmth. The sea that surrounded the fortress shimmered under the soft sunlight, casting fleeting illusions of peace. It was as if nature itself offered a brief respite from the tension of the looming war.

Maera felt that shift as well, both in her surroundings and within herself. The wound on her arm had completely healed, the scar barely visible now. The pain had faded, replaced by a newfound energy. She was no longer bound by recovery and was eager to return to the skies on dragonback, contributing to the war effort and finding time for herself.

Since Prince Daeron had flown south to the Stormlands, Maera had been assigned a new route—across the western side of the Narrow Sea. Her task was crucial: she needed to ensure the fleet of Morne was prepared and positioned for the eventual attack on the Capital when the time came.

Yet even though she embraced the odd tranquility, the betrayal of the Dragonseeds loomed over every decision. Hugh Hammer and Ulf the White’s defection had thrown their carefully laid plans into disarray. There was no longer a definitive timeline for the invasion. The uncertainty gnawed at the Green Council, but they were not without recourse.

A newly formed faction of nobles, led by the cunning Lord Unwin Peake, now called themselves the Caltrops. Their singular goal: to assassinate Hugh and Ulf and restore order. It was a delicate operation, one they carefully plotted, keeping the Green Council informed but biding their time until the perfect moment to strike.

Despite the complications caused by the rogue Dragonseeds, not all plans had been derailed. The Hand, Ser Criston Cole, had already departed for the Riverlands, where he was gathering and readying the ground troops. For now, all Maera and the other players in this intricate game of power could do was wait. It was a tense lull, the kind that stretched nerves thin and made every small action feel laden with weight amongst the remaining members of the Green Council.

In the meantime, Maera turned her attention to her other duties, filling her days with tasks that would otherwise have been mundane but now served as distractions. Her Ladies were a constant presence, helping her maintain some semblance of normalcy amidst the chaos. Lady Fossoway, ever diligent, had already begun making small preparations for the formal ceremony to name Prince Daeron as the official Prince of Dragonstone.

Though the event was still some time away, there was much to consider: the banners, the guests, the feast. Each detail needed careful planning, and Lady Fossoway took to the task with a seriousness that reflected the gravity of the moment. The announcement would solidify Daeron’s place within the Targaryen dynasty, an acknowledgment of his role should Aemond not have a son.

Lady Swyft, on the other hand, busied herself with Maera’s wardrobe. Having noticed that many of the Queen’s dresses had become uncomfortably tight around her hips and bust, she took it upon herself to remedy the situation. Seamstresses were summoned, and fabrics were examined, discussed, and chosen with care. The women muttered and measured, their deft fingers working to let out seams and add panels where needed. The changes were subtle yet necessary, for Maera’s figure had grown fuller once more.

The Queen’s lady assured her that it was normal, for a woman’s body to change after childbirth, and that noblewomen often found their figures altered even moons after they had given birth. Tiredness created hunger, she explained kindly, which led to eating more, and in turn, a little weight gain. It was nothing to be ashamed of, Lady Swyft insisted, even hinting that it could be healthy.

Maera tried to take comfort in her words, telling herself that it did not bother her. After all, she had given birth to Aemara, a child of dragon’s blood and royal lineage. Such changes were a small price to pay for the continuation of their house. Yet, each time Lady Swyft brought in a newly altered gown, panels and extra stitching added to accommodate her changing shape, Maera couldn’t help but feel a pang of self-consciousness. She saw it in the way the fabric hugged her now fuller hips, the way the bodices strained slightly against her enlarged bust.

In the quiet moments, when she was alone in her chambers, Maera found herself scrutinizing her reflection. The mirror offered an unflinching gaze at the woman she had become, a Queen in the midst of war, a rider of a gigantic and fearsome dragon, a mother to a Targaryen princess, and a wife to a king. She traced her fingers along the seams of her altered gowns, feeling every added inch as though it marked some personal failing.

Lady Vance, the elderly and old-fashioned courtier, took it upon herself to lecture the Queen on the matter of vanity and self-acceptance. In her stern and matronly manner, she insisted that such conceit should not be acknowledged, reminding Maera that women were as the Mother had made them, and it was a woman’s duty to accept her form with grace. Lady Vance’s words were filled with an unwavering certainty that came from years of strict adherence to tradition and piety, but they did little to comfort Maera.

One person who did understand Maera’s struggles on a personal level was Lady Tarth, who had become known by given name, Serenne. In the last few months, the young lady had become more than just the Queen’s secretary. She had become a confidante, a friend in the truest sense. The two women found solace in each other’s company, often spending time together when the other Ladies were busy with their duties.

Most of their time was spent in the large nursery of Dragonstone, a haven away from the prying eyes and expectations of the court. Here, they would sit on the plush rugs and thick blankets, surrounded by the soft sounds of their children at play. Aemara, now nearing eight months old, was beginning to explore the world on her hands and knees. The little princess crawled around on the carpet, her tiny fingers reaching out to grasp at the colorful toys that lay scattered around her. Her laughter filled the room, a sweet and innocent sound that brought a warmth to Maera’s heart.

Lady Serenne’s son, affectionately called ‘little Bryn’ by Maera, was just as happy to play amidst the abundance of toys that had been provided for them. He was a curious child, with eyes that seemed to take in everything around him with a quiet intelligence. While Aemara explored her surroundings with the wide-eyed wonder of a child discovering the world for the first time, Bryn was content to sit amidst his treasures, stacking blocks and inspecting each toy with a focused determination.

As their children played, Maera and Lady Serenne would engage in hours of conversation. They would sit together, sipping tea and sharing the latest gossip from court, their voices kept low so as not to disturb the children, who were diligently being watched by a nursemaid.

In these moments, the Queen felt a sense of normalcy, a fleeting escape from the weight of her crown. The discussions would range from lighthearted anecdotes about the children’s latest antics to more serious matters, such as the subtle undercurrents of political maneuvering that never seemed to rest, even in times of supposed peace.

Lady Serenne, with her kind blue eyes and empathetic nature, offered Maera a comfort that no one else could. She understood, perhaps better than anyone, the struggles that came with balancing the roles of mother, wife, and noblewoman. There was no judgment in her gaze, no lectures or admonishments about vanity or duty. Just a shared understanding that in this ever-changing world, they were both doing their best to navigate the expectations placed upon them.

In the nursery, amidst the laughter and soft babble of their children, the world outside seemed a little less daunting. For a few hours each day, the war, the politics, and the constant scrutiny faded into the background, leaving only the simple joys of motherhood and friendship.

“I cannot believe Bryn will be two years old this year,” Lady Serenne commented, her eyes crinkling with a smile as she picked up a small sandwich from the tray between them, taking a delicate bite.

The Queen nodded in agreement. “I know. Time seems so go quicker when you become a mother I think.”

As Maera spoke, her thoughts drifted inward, silently reflecting on just how much time had passed and yet how little it felt. It wasn’t that long ago, in her memory at least, when she had sat with Helaena, watching over Jaehaerys, Jaehaera and Maelor as they played together in the nursery of King’s Landing. Those moments, filled with laughter and innocent joy, were so vivid in her mind that they felt like they had happened just yesterday. It was a simpler time, before the war, before the loss and betrayal that had shattered their world.

The memory of Helaena, her old friend, and the soft peace they had found in those stolen moments, made Maera’s heart ache with longing. Those tender memories were like fragile glass, precious and breakable, and the reality that such moments could never happen again weighed heavily on her. Even if they did rescue Helaena, things could never return to how they once were.

Her reverie was abruptly interrupted by a high-pitched shriek of frustration. Maera’s eyes snapped to the scene before her as Bryn, determined and quick, toddled over to where Aemara was playing. Without hesitation, he snatched a toy from the little princess’s grasp. Aemara responded immediately, her face scrunching up in a mix of surprise and indignation before she let out an angry wail. The sound echoed through the nursery, drawing the attention of both mothers.

Lady Serenne was on her feet in an instant, moving to sit beside her son and scold him. “Bryndemere,” she chided in a firm yet gentle voice, pulling the toy from his hand and returning it to Aemara, who grasped it tightly, still pouting but quieting down under her mother’s comforting gaze. The Lady turned back to Maera, her cheeks flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and amusement.

“I apologize, Your Grace,” she said with a light laugh, trying to diffuse the situation with humor. “Clearly, my son has yet to learn the proper courtly etiquette when interacting with a princess.”

Maera chuckled softly, shaking her head. “No harm done,” she replied, her gaze softening as she watched the two children. Aemara, for her part, had already moved on from the slight, her attention now fixed on the toy in her hands, seemingly satisfied with its return.

Lady Serenne sighed, settling back down beside Maera. “In truth,” she mused, “I think his older sisters are happy to be rid of him at the moment.”

Maera giggled at the comment, shaking her head in amusement. “I think all brothers, older or younger, have an innate talent for being incredibly annoying,” she replied, her tone light and teasing as she pictured all of her brothers, some she loved with all her heart, others she was content with being away from.

Just as they shared a laugh, Maera felt a small tug on her skirts. She glanced down to see little Bryn gazing up at her with wide, earnest eyes, his tiny finger pointing eagerly toward the table where the food lay just out of his reach. Maera grinned, unable to resist the boy’s charm. She reached down to ruffle his golden curls affectionately before handing him a small sandwich. Bryn accepted the offering with a delighted smile, toddling away to return to his toys with his prize clutched tightly in his small hand.

“Well,” Maera began, turning her attention back to Lady Serenne, “do you and Lord Edmure plan on having more children?” Her question was curious, genuine interest in her voice.

Lady Serenne laughed, shaking her head with a mixture of amusement and relief. “Thankfully, the Gods have spared me from such a fate,” she replied, a hint of irony in her tone.

Maera tilted her head in confusion, not quite understanding. “What do you mean?” she asked, her brow furrowed slightly.

With a soft sigh, Lady Serenne explained, “I already have four older daughters, all so close in age. And when Bryn was born, it was… difficult.” Her eyes clouded briefly with the memory, but her voice remained steady. “The Maester said that due to the birth, it’s highly unlikely I’ll have any more children.”

Maera watched her face closely, expecting to see sorrow or regret, but to her surprise, Lady Serenne seemed content, perhaps even a little relieved. There was a peace in her expression, a quiet acceptance of her circumstances.

“And you, Your Grace?” The Queen was snapped out of her contemplations by the sound of Lady Serenne’s voice, cutting through the quiet with a playful lilt.

“How goes…making an heir for the King?” She giggled, her golden curls bouncing with the motion, and there was an unmistakable teasing light in her expression.

Maera rolled her eyes, unable to suppress a smile at her Lady’s cheeky inquiry. “The King and I are quite set on performing our duties,” she replied with mock seriousness, though the corners of her lips quirked upwards, betraying her amusement.

As they shared in the lighthearted banter, Maera found her thoughts drifting inwardly. Since Aemond had recommitted himself to her in the ways of Old Valyria, reaffirming their bond in that ancient and sacred tradition, it seemed as though their relationship had been forged anew in the fire of their shared trials and tribulations.

Their time together had become precious, a refuge amidst the storm. They cherished the moments spent with Aemara, watching their daughter grow and change with each passing day. And then there were the nights, the intimacy between them more intense and consuming than it had been in months. Aemond’s touch was both demanding and tender, their passion igniting like wildfire each time they came together. It was surprising, really, that she wasn’t with child again already, considering how often they indulged in their desires.

“Yet my moons blood has not come since I have given birth,” the Queen explained to her companion. While this was something that could worry some, she felt a sense of relief about it. The monthly bleeding was not something she missed. “And I’ve read that it returning means you are fit to breed again,” Maera added with a small, nonchalant shrug.

“I see “ Lady Serenne acknowledged quietly, but something in her tone made Maera glance at her. The Lady’s expression had changed, a frown marring her usually cheerful face. Her brows knitted together, and she looked as though she was deep in thought, her gaze fixed on the floor.

“What is it?” Maera asked gently, noticing the sudden shift in her demeanor. Lady Serenne continued to avoid her gaze, nervously biting her lip. It was as if she was holding something back, struggling with whether or not to say what was on her mind. Maera reached out, placing a reassuring hand on her arm. “You can speak freely, Serenne,” she encouraged softly.

The Lady-in-waiting took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts before finally speaking. “Your Grace, it’s just… what you said about the moonsblood,” she began cautiously. “It happened to me, as well, after I gave birth to Bryn.” Her voice was quiet, almost hesitant. “It was how the Maester knew we could no longer conceive.”

“Oh,” was all the Queen could manage in response, her thoughts suddenly reeling. The information was startling, and she hadn’t considered the possibility before. The lack of her moonsblood had been a convenience in her mind, a reprieve from the physical toll of motherhood so soon after Aemara’s birth. But now, hearing Serenne’s story, it took on a different significance.

Sensing the Maera’s concern, Lady Serenne quickly waved her hands in a defensive yet reassuring manner. "No, no, Your Grace, please don’t worry," she said earnestly. "It may not be the case for you. After all, you are nobly feeding your daughter yourself, and I gave Bryn to our wet nurse as soon as he was born. That can make a difference, or so I’ve been told."

Despite her friend's attempt to soothe her fears, Maera couldn't help the worry that settled into the pit of her stomach. If Aemara was to be her only child, how would Aemond react? He adored their daughter, that much was certain, but a king needed a son to carry on his legacy, to secure the future of his reign. The thought of Aemond’s disappointment made Maera's heart clench. His desire for an heir, like all noble men, was strong, and though their bond had grown, the pressure of producing a son had always been an unspoken expectation.

The Queen chewed her lip nervously, the small, anxious habit surfacing as her mind churned with these possibilities. What if this was it? What if she was unable to provide the heir Aemond—and the realm—expected of her? The idea of failing in this duty gnawed at her. She imagined the whispers that would spread through court, the scrutiny that would follow her every move, the shadow of her own inadequacy haunting her steps. Would Aemond’s affection for her endure if she couldn’t fulfill this one crucial role? The thought sent a chill down her spine.

Lost in these worries, she suddenly felt a gentle hand on her shoulder, grounding her back in the present. Maera looked up to see Lady Serenne’s concerned yet supportive gaze. "If you’re truly worried, my Queen," she said softly, her voice filled with genuine care, "you should speak to the Maester. He might be able to give you some answers, or at least some reassurance."

Maera nodded, the tightness in her chest easing just slightly at the reminder that she didn’t have to navigate this uncertainty alone. "Thank you, Lady Serenne," she replied quietly, offering her friend a small, grateful smile. "I think I will."

A sudden, wild squealing echoed from the carpet, drawing the women's attention away from their conversation. Maera and Lady Serenne looked down in surprise. Aemara had crawled over to Bryn, her chubby little fingers wrapped around the boy’s golden curls in a surprisingly firm grip. She pulled harshly, her tiny mouth open in a giggle of delight. Bryn, caught off guard, screamed in distress, his arms flailing as he tried to escape the unexpected assault. The nursemaid was quickly at their side, attempting to pry the children apart, but between Aemara’s strong grip and Bryn’s thrashing, she was having no such luck.

The Queen and her Lady exchanged a knowing glance and a smile before both gracefully slid off their chairs to sit on the carpet. With a practiced ease, Maera gently grasped her daughter's tiny hand, loosening her grip on Bryn’s curls. Lady Serenne reached for her son, pulling him safely into her lap and smoothing down his tousled hair. Aemara let out a disgruntled little sound as she was lifted away from her playmate, her violet eyes wide with innocent curiosity about why her new toy had been taken from her.

Both women comforted their children after the ordeal, laughing softly at the small drama that had unfolded. Maera bounced Aemara on her knee, whispering soothing words as she smoothed down the girl’s silver hair, while Lady Serenne rubbed Bryn’s back, murmuring reassurances into his ear.

Maera chuckled as she gestured to Bryn, who was now snuggled against his mother, looking slightly sulky but otherwise unharmed. "It seems your son will have his hands full with his future wife," she said with a grin, her eyes twinkling with amusement. Lady Serenne laughed in agreement, a sparkle of mirth in her gaze as she glanced between the two children, imagining the future where this fierce little princess and the gentle golden-haired boy would one day be something more than playmates.

"Indeed," Serenne replied with a playful sigh. "It appears he may need to grow accustomed to a strong-willed lady at his side." They shared a warm laugh, the brief chaos on the carpet serving as a charming reminder of the small joys and trials of motherhood amidst the surrounding storm of the war.

“What has your feathers ruffled, my Queen?”

It was late afternoon, and the halls of Dragonstone had fallen into a hushed calm. After a long morning of play and a satisfying feed, Aemara had finally been put down for her nap. The Queen had watched her daughter’s eyes flutter shut, a peaceful smile gracing the little girl’s face as she drifted into sleep. With her duties as a mother momentarily set aside, Maera now had other matters to attend to.

The corridors of Dragonstone were dimly lit, the grey stone walls lined with ancient tapestries depicting the history of House Targaryen. The heavy scent of sea salt hung in the air, mingling with the faint scent of burning wood from the hearths that warmed the castle’s interior. Shadows danced across the walls as the sunlight filtered through narrow windows, casting a warm golden hue over the cold stone floors.

Servants moved quietly about their tasks, the rustle of their garments and the soft patter of their footsteps echoing softly in the stillness. Maera acknowledged them with brief nods as they respectfully greeted her, her mind elsewhere, her thoughts spinning in a whirlwind of uncertainty. She walked beside her sworn guard and brother, Faran, whose vigilant eyes scanned the corridor ahead. His presence, usually a comfort, seemed to chafe at her now, only adding to the turmoil within her.

“Leave it alone, brother.”

Her earlier conversation with Lady Serenne had left her unnerved, stirring up fears she hadn’t fully realized she was harboring. The idea that she might not be able to bear another child had lodged itself into her thoughts like a splinter, small but impossible to ignore. Aemond’s expectations, the needs of the realm, and her own desires clashed within her, leaving her feeling trapped and restless.

Instead of confiding in someone about her growing concerns, Maera had chosen a different way to deal with the storm of emotions swirling within her. She had decided to work out her stress the only way she knew how to channel it—through physical exertion.

The Queen had donned her leathers, a comforting second skin that had seen her through many battles and training sessions. She pinned back her brown and silver curls with practiced ease, preparing for a sparring session with her brother. It was something they had not done since she was shot in the collarbone, but now with the wound healed, and the anxiety simmering within her turning into a boiling anger, she was determined to win this bout.

“Gods, there is a bug up your arse,” he chuckled, trying to provoke a response. “You better pray I don’t beat you today.”

But Maera was in no mood for his banter. Without looking at him, she firmly told him. “Faran, please, just shut up.” Her tone was icy, brooking no argument, and the sharpness of her words cut through the air between them.

Faran got the hint, his playful demeanor fading into a more serious silence. He respected her boundaries, for now, falling quiet for the rest of the walk to the courtyard. The silence between them was heavy, but Maera preferred it this way. She couldn’t talk about what was on her mind with him. He wouldn’t understand. He couldn’t. This was not a matter of battle strategy or court politics, but of something far more personal and profound—her worth as a queen, a wife, and a mother.

Turning a corner, Maera’s mind raced with thoughts of who else she could confide in. Her Ladies were supportive, but this was not a matter for idle gossip or comforting words. It required knowledge and discretion, and she was not yet ready to face the possibility of hearing something she wasn’t prepared to accept. The Maesters could give her answers, perhaps, but she was not ready to deal with possible bad news.

And besides, the walls had ears. She was certain Larys’s spies were scattered throughout the castle, their eyes and ears ever vigilant. If any whisper of possible infertility reached the court, it would be like blood in the water to sharks, weakening her position as Queen. It would give her enemies leverage, an opening they would not hesitate to exploit.

The siblings continued their walk through the corridors of Dragonstone in a heavy silence, the only sounds being the soft scuffs of their boots against the stone floor and the occasional distant murmur of servants. Maera was lost in her thoughts, mulling over the troubling possibilities swirling in her mind. Finally, they reached the courtyard, a familiar space where she could at least momentarily escape the chaos of her mind.

They began to warm up in silence, moving with the practiced ease of seasoned fighters. As Maera practiced her movements, her blade slicing through the air with practiced precision, she could feel her body falling into the familiar rhythm. Each swing, each pivot, was a reminder of her strength, of the control she still held over some aspects of her life. She lost herself in the movements, focusing on the feel of the sword in her hand and the way her muscles responded to each command.

But the silence was soon interrupted by Faran’s voice, cutting through her concentration. “Luthor wrote to me,” he revealed, his tone casual but with an edge of something else she couldn’t quite place. Maera’s brow furrowed, her rhythm faltering for just a heartbeat before she resumed her practice.

Their brother, married to one of Lord Borros Baratheon’s daughters, had not written in a month, despite Maera reaching out. She had assumed he was preoccupied with his duties at Storm’s End, busy with the ongoing preparations and politics. Yet he had found the time to write to Faran, but not to her? It made her pause, her mind now split between the movements of her sword and the curiosity mixed with irritation rising within her.

The Queen hummed in response, her sword cutting through the air with a sharp, decisive swing. “Is he well?” she asked, a hint of annoyance slipping into her voice despite her attempt to sound indifferent. The idea that their brother had written to Faran, choosing him as a confidant rather than her, grated on her nerves. She did not enjoy being kept in the dark, especially when it came to family matters.

She heard Faran clear his throat, a hesitation that made her sigh inwardly. Pausing in her routine, she turned her head to face him, her green eyes narrowing in scrutiny. His expression was pained, lines of discomfort etching across his usually composed face. The sight of it only deepened her confusion. “He’s not in a good place, Maera,” the Kingsguard finally spoke, his voice low and careful. His words made her pause, lowering her sword as she tilted her head, frowning.

Faran hesitated again before speaking, as if weighing the impact of his next words. “Lady Cassandra… she became with child,” he began, watching her closely. “But she miscarried a few weeks later.”

The Queen’s frown deepened, her chest tightening at the news. The weight of his words sank in slowly, a wave of empathy and sorrow washing over her. Luthor and Cassandra had been married for some time now, and she knew they had hoped for a child, one that would be the heir to Storms End as Lord Borros still did not have a son.

The loss of that hope was a heavy blow. Luthor had doted on Aemara when he was at Dragonstone, and Maera knew he had always wanted to be a father. She could almost feel the pain her brother must be enduring, the grief and disappointment, the unfulfilled promise of a future that had been cruelly snatched away. It was an experience she could barely fathom, and yet it resonated deeply with her own recent fears.

If Maera herself were to become pregnant again, if she even could, there was always the risk of losing the child, a risk many women faced. She had read in the medical tomes that repeated miscarriages could be a sign of deeper damage to the womb, an idea that sent a shiver of dread down her spine. Her mind raced with possibilities, each one darker than the last, amplifying the uncertainty that had already taken root in her heart.

She shook her head, forcing herself to pull away from the spiral of her own fears. Guilt tugged at her, reminding her that now was not the time to dwell on her selfish concerns. This was about Luthor, about the sorrow he must be feeling. She took a deep breath and focused on her brother standing before her, reminding herself to be present for him, for their family. “How is he coping?” she asked, her voice softer now, tinged with the genuine concern that lay beneath her own anxieties.

Faran’s expression darkened further. “Not well,” he admitted, his gaze dropping to the ground as if searching for the right words. “He’s taken himself off to the war front in the Stormlands.” The heaviness in his voice conveyed more than just worry—it was a mix of frustration and helplessness, emotions Maera understood all too well.

“War front?!” Her eyes widened in alarm, her heart skipping a beat. “He has no actual battle experience,” she said, her tone sharper than intended, a note of panic threading through her words. The thought of her brother throwing himself into the chaos of war, unprepared and driven by grief, was almost too much to bear.

“And yet that is where he wanted to be,” Faran replied with a tone of defeat. The weight of her brother’s grief pressed down on the Queen’s shoulders. This war was taking its toll on all of them, fracturing their family in ways she hadn’t anticipated. And now, with Luthor seeking refuge in the only way he knew how, the cost of their struggle became even more personal.

Her shoulders sagged, a heaviness settling into her bones. "Why didn’t he tell me?" she murmured, a mix of hurt and confusion in her voice. She and Luthor had always been close. Along with Faran, they had been the close knit trio of the large number of siblings, inseparable through childhood and beyond. The thought that Luthor was now facing something so devastating, and hadn’t reached out to her, cut deeper than she cared to admit.

A gentle hand rested on her shoulder, drawing her from her thoughts. She glanced up at Faran, whose eyes were filled with understanding. "He didn’t want to worry you," he said softly. His words were meant to comfort, but they only stirred her frustration.

Maera scoffed, rubbing her face with both hands. "But now I'm more worried than ever," she exclaimed, her voice rising in exasperation. "He’s run off to battle, for gods’ sake!" The idea of Luthor, untested and grieving, throwing himself into the fray made her stomach twist with anxiety. She imagined him amidst the blood and violence, his sorrow pushing him toward reckless decisions.

She sighed heavily, trying to release some of the tension coiling inside her. Gently, she placed her hand over Faran’s, squeezing it in a silent gesture of thanks. "Thank you for telling me," she said, her voice steadier now, though the concern lingered in her eyes. "I’ll write to him soon, once things have settled a bit." She knew words on a page wouldn’t be enough to reach him in his current state, but it was something, a thread of connection that she could offer.

Faran nodded, his gaze lingering on her for a moment before he stepped back, a familiar, cheeky grin slowly spreading across his face. "So," he said, unsheathing his sword with a flourish, "do you still plan on kicking my arse, or has all this talk dampened your fighting spirit?"

Maera couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up, a brief respite from the storm of emotions swirling within her. She unsheathed her own sword, the familiar weight of it grounding her. "Oh, I still plan on it," she declared, a glint of determination in her eyes. She positioned herself opposite her brother, ready to let the movement and focus of their sparring match drive away the worries, if only for a little while.

Notes: so we’ve got two or three more parts of Part Two left until we jump forward in time a lil bit. And it’s gunna get a hell of a lot darker 👀

Tags: @0eessirk8 @magicseahorse @blue-serendipity @abecerra611 @saltedcaramelpretzel @marvelescvpe @watercolorskyy @shesjustanothergeek @thelastemzy @kckt88 @darylandbethfanforever9

Thank you so much for reading! Comments, feedback, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated 🖤

[cynic-spirit]

The request

Yn stood in the dimly lit corner of the library, her usual confidence replaced with an unusual hesitance. She fiddled with the edge of her book, her fingers tracing the worn spine as she tried to gather the courage to speak. Bucky, sensing her unease, stepped closer, his intense gaze softening as he looked at her.

“Yn, what is it?” Bucky asked gently, his voice low and soothing. “You know you can tell me anything.”

Yn glanced up at him, her eyes filled with uncertainty. “I... I have a request, Bucky. But I’m not sure if I should ask.”

Bucky’s brows furrowed in concern. “Hey, it’s me. You can ask me anything. What’s on your mind?”

She shifted her weight, looking down at her feet. “It’s just... it’s a bit complicated, and I don’t want to burden you with it.”

Bucky took a step closer, his hand reaching out to gently lift her chin so she would look at him. “You could never burden me. Just tell me what you need. I’ll do it.”

Her eyes searched his, looking for reassurance. “But... it’s a lot to ask, and I don’t want you to feel obligated.”

Bucky’s grip on her chin was firm but tender, his eyes locked on hers with unwavering determination. “Yn, I’m not just saying this. Whatever it is, I’ll do it. Please, just tell me.”

Yn took a deep breath, her voice barely above a whisper. “Are you sure, Bucky? I don’t want to put you in a difficult position.”

Bucky’s expression softened even more, his heart aching at her apprehension. “I’m sure. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. Just say the word, and it’s done.”

She hesitated a moment longer, her eyes dropping to the floor again. “It’s just... I don’t know how you’ll react, and I don’t want things to change between us.”

Bucky shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. “Nothing you ask could ever change how I feel about you. I promise. Just tell me, Yn.”

Yn’s hand trembled slightly as she reached up to touch his, still holding her chin. “Alright,” she said softly, meeting his gaze once more. “I’ll tell you. But please, understand how important this is to me.”

Bucky nodded, his eyes filled with resolve. “I understand. And I promise, whatever it is, I’ll make it happen.”

Yn took a deep breath, her fingers nervously rummaging through her satchel bag. Finally, she pulled out a small, elegant tube of Chanel lipstick. She held it out to Bucky, her eyes meeting his with a mixture of hope and apprehension.

"This is my favorite red lipstick," she said, her voice soft and uncertain. "I can't find it anywhere in this city. And... I don't want to be without my red lipstick. Would you..."

Before she could finish, Bucky's expression shifted from curiosity to a determined resolve. "Find it for you? Damn, Yn, I’ll move mountains to find this one."

He took the lipstick from her hand, examining the label as if committing it to memory. "Cannot have my girl without her red lips now, can I?" he said with a confident smirk.

Yn's shoulders relaxed a bit, a small smile forming on her lips. "You really don't have to go to so much trouble, Bucky. It's just a lipstick."

Bucky shook his head, his eyes never leaving hers. "No, it's not just a lipstick. It's your favorite. It’s part of what makes you... you. And I want you to have it. I'll find it, I promise."

She bit her lip, her eyes glistening with gratitude. "Thank you, Bucky. I really appreciate it. I know it's silly, but it means a lot to me."

He reached out and gently touched her cheek, his thumb brushing against her skin. "Nothing about you is silly, Yn. If it’s important to you, it’s important to me. I’ll find this lipstick, no matter what it takes."

Yn nodded, feeling a warmth spread through her chest at his words. "You're amazing, Bucky. Thank you."

Bucky leaned in, his voice low and earnest. "Anything for you, Yn. I’ll have it back in your hands before you know it."

He turned, already planning his next steps, but not before giving her one last reassuring smile. "You just keep being you, with or without the lipstick. But I’ll make sure you have it. Count on that."

A few days later, Yn found a large, elegantly wrapped box waiting for her on her doorstep. Curiosity piqued, she carried it inside and set it on her kitchen table. The box was adorned with a luxurious ribbon, tied in a perfect bow.

With a mixture of excitement and trepidation, Yn untied the ribbon and lifted the lid. Her eyes widened in shock and delight as she saw the contents: rows and rows of her favorite Chanel red lipstick, meticulously arranged within the box. There had to be at least twenty tubes, each one shining under the light.

Nestled among the lipsticks was a small, handwritten note. Her heart skipped a beat as she picked it up and began to read:

"Those red lips are only mine to kiss...

Love, yours,

Bucky"

Yn's cheeks flushed, and she couldn't help but smile. She traced the words on the note with her fingers, feeling a warm flutter in her chest. Bucky had gone above and beyond, and the gesture touched her deeply.

She picked up one of the lipsticks, twisting it open to reveal the familiar, perfect shade of red. Applying a fresh coat, she felt a sense of completeness, a part of her restored.

As she admired her reflection in a nearby mirror, she couldn't help but think of Bucky's words. His declaration, both possessive and tender, echoed in her mind. She knew Bucky was a man of intense emotions, but this gesture showed a side of him that was deeply caring and attentive.

Yn's phone buzzed on the table, breaking her reverie. It was a message from Bucky.

"Did you get the package?"

She quickly typed back, her fingers trembling slightly.

"Yes, Bucky. I did. Thank you so much. This means more to me than you know."

Almost immediately, his reply came.

"Anything for you, Yn. You know that. Those red lips are my favorite."

Yn bit her lip, smiling as she typed back.

"And here I thought you were just a tough mobster."

"Only for you, Yn. Only for you."

She put her phone down, her heart feeling light. Bucky’s thoughtful gesture and heartfelt note were more than she could have ever asked for. She glanced at the box of lipsticks again, her smile widening.

As she went about her day, the note stayed with her, tucked safely into her pocket, a constant reminder of Bucky's affection and devotion. And with every glance in the mirror, her perfectly red lips would remind her of the man who had, without a doubt, wrapped himself around her heart.

Yn arranged to meet Bucky at his club. As she walked in, she felt a mix of gratitude and curiosity swirling within her. She spotted him at their usual spot, his rugged features softening as he saw her approach.

"Hey," she greeted, sitting down beside him. "I got the package."

Bucky's lips curled into a smirk. "I’m glad. Did it meet your expectations?"

Yn laughed softly, shaking her head in disbelief. "More than met. Exceeded by miles. But I have to know... how did you find it? And so many? I checked all the shops in the entire state."

Bucky leaned back, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Well... that’s my secret. I won’t reveal it."

She raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued but not pushing further. "Alright, keep your secrets then," she teased, her smile growing.

Bucky's expression grew serious, though his eyes still held that playful glint. "Now, I believe we had an agreement," he said, his voice dropping to a low murmur.

Yn blushed, feeling the warmth spread through her cheeks. She leaned in, her lips brushing against his gently at first, then deepening the kiss. It was a kiss filled with gratitude and affection, a promise of more.

When they finally pulled away, Bucky's hand lingered on her cheek, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw. "Yes," he said softly, his voice filled with satisfaction. "My red lips. Mine to kiss."

Yn's heart raced at his possessive yet tender words. She smiled, resting her forehead against his. "Only yours," she whispered.

The intensity in Bucky's eyes softened, a rare tenderness that he reserved only for her. He pulled her closer, wrapping his arm around her. "You have no idea what you do to me," he confessed quietly.

Yn chuckled, the sound light and melodic. "I think I might have some idea," she replied, her eyes sparkling.

They stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other. Yn’s heart swelled with a mixture of emotions. She felt cherished and adored, knowing that Bucky would go to any lengths for her. And as for Bucky, every moment with Yn only deepened his affection, making him all the more certain that she was the one who had truly captured his heart.

[valentinedivineart]

A speed paint for the trio piece I will be posting later this week. I really love the dynamic of this one! These three are a part of a larger polyamorous unit, one day I will actually draw all of them together- but for now have three out of five.

[hinamie]

close again and closer still

[justewil]

happy flora friday it's been cold here recently

[tyrramint]

Happy Lockwood & Co. Big Bang!!! :D I had the absolute pleasure of collaborating with @The_Dreamer_Half_Alive (on Ao3 :) on her fic for the @lockwoodandcobigbang2023 event; set post TEG, it’s truly so lovely and heartwarming, and I had so much fun doing a piece for it! We very much hope you enjoy :)

Link to the fic!!!! (the horror of the night melt away) under the warm glow of survival of the day

(Closeups below the cut :D) (because I ended up making it too wide to be easily seen in full lol) (plus ~artistic commentary~)

(SPOILERS FOR FIC CONTENT)

Okay, so I tried to put a bunch of little easter eggs from the fic and just in general in here, so if you’re interested:

Alright, to start off, I was generally very inspired by them getting a record player; I thought it was very sweet, and I loved the idea of them finally getting to relax and hang out in the library (the lack of chairs, I know; I couldn’t figure out how to put them in without blocking people lol) and locklyle dancing, with the record player on in the background, so that’s what I took as the basis of the scene!!

We had discussed that the characters were kind of a combo of both show and book versions, so I tried to add a smattering and hints of both when doing their designs!

The record is, of course, an Ella Fitzgerald record as mentioned in the fic (the record drawn is her Souvenir Album)

Holly is wearing her engagement ring, and wearing shades of pink and cream because that’s what she wears at her wedding (although shifted in hue to better match the color scheme of the piece lol)

Everyone (minus Flo) of course has their white strands of hair (which is *always* one of my favorite details to draw)

Lucy and George bake in the fic, but I think I had just read the Christmas mini story when I was doing my thumbnail for this, so Kipps ended up being the one bringing in baked goods; however, the baking mitts are orange and monogrammed with George's initials because I couldn't let that slip by, could I?

I wasn't quite sure what to put Flo in, because in the books she never takes off her boots or puffer jacket, but I wanted to throw in some sign that she was living at 35 Portland Row and becoming closer to all of them, (and her close relationship with George,) so I let her keep the boots, but traded the puffer jacket in for one of George's plaid shirts :)

The chess game also made it in because of the Christmas short story, lol

Lucy's blue star jacket!! When I read the fic, I was planning from the start to have her wearing the jacket, so of course it made it in :) I wasn't really sure what style it should be, though, so I ended up with kind of an odd mishmash of designs, but I think it turned out working alright!

The sapphire necklace, because, of course

I adore that Lockwood wears his pink socks throughout the entire show (well, most of the time they're the pink ones ;) so I wanted to include them (and then gave Lucy blue ones to match :)

The chipped blue mugs that Lockwood brings to Lucy for her tea after she wakes up from nightmares are on the bookshelf, and I couldn't find a way to directly include the Earl Grey tea they have, but I made the tea bag tags grey in honor of it

The green glow is the ghost lamp outside because if I can find a way to incorporate cool glows in my art, I will (and also on a more narrative-driven note, symbolizing the past danger they've been through and how some of it is definitely still present, but they have each other to heal with and finally be able to have some simple fun with, and are now curled up in the safety and comfort of 35 Portland Row :)

And finally, a big theme of the fic is them healing and building a happy life together, so I just wanted them to all be happy for once, and hence I put in my best efforts to draw them as such :)

[hakusins]

hakudean mini event! Resident Evil OC 'Dick' requested by my lovely friend Speka, @yuichiroswife ~! Thank you so much for the request Speka and I hope I did your boy justice !!!!