#truly though. what did they put in the air in wild life

[randoandro]

pov: your murder bestie just told you she doesn't love you anymore

based on this text post by sir-raz

[sordidmusings]

How to Break Rules (Sir Crocodile x Reader)

Art by xuchuan25 on x!

TUMBLR ATE THE FUCKING ASK WHEN I SAVED IT AS A DRAFT 🙃 luckily I had it saved in my doc and it was anon so they wouldn't have been notified anyway

Anon Ask: Crocodile doesn't seem like the type to kiss during sex unless he's down bad. Maybe he starts a casual relationship with a strict "no kissing on the lips" rule but anywhere else is fair game. It's fun to think of the different ways a possible "first kiss" could happen when he's already rawed you lol and the different reactions if he initiates it or you do and whether it's spur of the moment or calculated.

A/N: OOOOOOOOOO love this and have actually come across this in my own travails haha as someone who loves service, there is such a rush in being told “you can kiss me anywhere but my lips; you have to earn that” 😩 Like it’s just dangling that fruit of how much of a rush it’ll be when you earn the right, when you’re told you’ve been so good for so long. It is also kind of a wild and intense dynamic to be in to have done So Much Stuff but not a simple kiss 💀💀💀

I will also say that I have a WIP smut request in this vein that has been FIGHTING ME FOR MONTHS 🥲 except it’s reader who has put down the rule of “no kissing” and the reason is because love is a requirement for it. Hoping this exercise helps get more flowing for continuing that beloved behemoth 🙏🏻 Ficlets and thoughts in bulleted form below! They get longer as they go because that’s what tends to happen for me lol

Word Count: ~3k total over a few scenarios and such

Warnings: brief allusions to sex but nothing nsfw, gn!reader, not actually unrequited love, a few flavors of reader personality, from very bratty to docile, for dynamic variety 🤌🏻, jealousy/possessiveness

Goodies below the cut - dig in (‘∀’●)♡

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

At first I was a bit clinical in my brainstorming of this, more stuck on the grid of who does it to who 

He kisses you

Involuntarily

Poor croc is finally at his limit in keeping his lips from yours and being so deep in indulging in all the rest of you is his undoing. Every piece of you feels so good even though every moment with you is agony - agony from having you but not all of you, being with each other but not belonging to each other. He was Tantalus and you were his fruit and drink, always slipping just past his fingertips. If he could taste you, share your breaths, feel your voice, then maybe he’d finally stop wasting away. 

On purpose

You’ve been vexing him with your teasing, always gifting him the touch of your soft lips everywhere but his own. He didn’t want to be the one to fold on his own rule, but no matter how loose he got your mind, how far you were from forming words, how pliant and placating, you’d kiss him and kiss him and kiss him but never his lips. It didn’t matter if he hovered his own over yours close enough to taste your voice on the air, you’d never push forward. It was maddening. 

One day he finally barks at you after you turn your face away, “Why do you always run?” 

You answer, confused and honest, “You told me I wasn’t allowed.” 

The response is a hook at your neck, pulling you closer; a hand in your hair, cradling you; a mouth on your own, consuming you.

A promise to you that you’re truly his

This Sir Croc warms more to the idea of you being his with no qualms stemming from his own pride. 

It took a long while, but your home in Croc’s life was built brick by brick, sure and steady and obvious. He noticed it and kept an eye on it like he did with everything, but he did not reject nor rush it. No, it was inevitable beyond his will, the way you slipped into his head and chest and nested there. No stubbornness would stop the way it warmed him. No clinging would allow you deeper into a space that was always meant to be yours. As he first noticed the foundation you’d set, saw the promise of his future in your care and vision, he knew he was meant to exist next to you. 

He waited for this understanding to sink in you too. It never did. 

No matter his well-thought gifts, steadfast support, or opulent compliments, you never pressed to take more promises from him than he offered himself, never set to make claim to him outside of closed doors. He knew he had to change that. 

The thought possesses him the next time he brings you around with him and someone has the gaul to approach you. They ask about why Croc keeps you so close to see if they had a chance to stick to your side instead. That won’t do. 

Croc stalks over quickly, seeping dominance but not quite aggression. When he gets to you, he places a weighty hand on your right shoulder and leans over the left, fully encasing you in his presence. 

All the other man sees is the threat leaning over your shoulder and he scatters before you can finish saying “-my boss.”

Much happier with Croc surrounding you, you lean back into his warm chest. A low chuckle plays with the hair around your ear, causing you to shiver in delight.

“A boss? Is that all I am to you?” There’s a teasing lilt to his deep voice, one steeped in deep fondness.

“Of course not,” you assure. He guides you to turn with his hook under your chin, letting his fingers tickle the back of your neck to your other shoulder as you spin to face him. The smile on your lips is easy and familiar and softens Croc into clay, ready and happy to be molded into whatever you want. Yet you always just ease him back into his own shape, each time with fewer cracks and dents, waiting for him to be as solid as he’d like for when he enters the kiln.

“Then tell me, dear,” his voice is as warm and rich as the purple of his eyes. He pulls his cigar from his lips with two fingers. You watch his lips as he speaks. “What am I?”

Before the falter in your smile can fully steal it away, Croc slips forward to taste it on your lips. You freeze and Croc snakes his hook behind your neck to pull you forward, but by the time it gets there you’re already pressing into him. You’d never forgive yourself if you didn’t savor the feeling of finally belonging fully to each other.

You kiss him

Power Move

Sir Croc never seemed able to control you and he loved and loathed it in equal parts. It’s one of the reasons he sought you in the first place. You knew exactly when to push and when to follow, when to challenge and when to submit. It was a very rare day when you genuinely got on his nerves.

Today is a very rare day.

You’re clearly upset with Sir Croc - not leaning into his affection, barely answering his attempts at conversation, unwilling to look at his face for more than a second. More than anything you refuse to tell him what’s wrong.

Now, you’re not doing it just to piss him off; you don’t feel quite allowed to be upset about the issue so you don’t want to share. You don’t want to have an attitude but every time you see him it reminds you of the realization that you’d do anything for him. Worse than that, that thought was immediately followed by the Knowing that you aren’t his and the uncertainty that you ever will be.

Right now, you feel like you’re not his to have, but his to use.

Though, he does give you special treatment. He lets you closer to him than any others, treats you with gentleness except when you corner him into using a firm hand. He’s never even used his power over you when it’s not for play and pleasure. Except for one little rule.

No kissing on the lips. 

You thought you’d earn it months ago. You’ve earned everything else, every sweet treatment and treasure you could think of will be yours if you ask it of him. He’s come to spoil you even more rotten than a queen with her fat lap dog, and yet you’ve not gotten a single kiss to the lips.

It’s begun to feel like he’s keeping it from you to let you know he’ll never fully give himself to you because he never fully intended to keep you. And it hurts.

And now he’s mad because you’re mad but you can’t tell him why you’re mad and the whole thing is maddening.

You watch him knock the ash off his dwindling cigar into the ornate ceramic tray on his desk. The heavy sigh accompanying it annoys you. Why is he the one sighing?

Oh, now he’s rubbing at his temple. He thinks he’s frustrated? You’ll show him frustration.

“Should I go?” You ask, peeking at him from the corner of your narrowed eyes.

“Do you want to go?” Croc rebuts, sounding confounded and at the end of his rope.

You eye him unhappily. 

Instead of responding, you stand up from the leather sofa across from his grand desk. It’s a decent distance, two chairs to its sides are placed closer, but of course you chose to sit away from him today. It’s to your advantage now; you need space for your next move.

You make your way to him slowly, swerving your hips smoothly the way he likes and adding a teeny bit of weight to each step - both to be closer to stomping and to have the motion give a slight bounce to all the soft parts of you for him to watch.

And watch he does - his face melts into the hungry admiration he saves for you, albeit still a bit guarded. 

When you get to his desk, instead of addressing him you gracefully gather the papers spread across it into your hands. You take a moment to pretend to scan through and consider them, only to frisbee them onto one of the chairs.

Croc’s eyes turn sharp and burning.

“Brat-” he cuts himself off, looking at your face and picking up that you’re having even less fun than he is. He sucks in a tense breath and hisses it back out. Let’s try that again.

“Am I working too much and you need more attention? Is that why you’re having a fit?”

Good enough.

“If I was having a fit, the whole base would know,” you bite back at him.

Instead of arguing or redirecting, Sir Croc settles on watching you. Nothing’s worked, so he’ll just allow you to take this wherever it’s headed.

You plant your palms on his desk and let the quiet linger. He lets you lean into his space and stare him down. He’s unsure what you’re looking for and honestly so are you. You’re unsure if you find it but you do find some fortitude in the settling air. You finally speak up.

“Do you remember the rule you set when we started this…” your eyes flit around, searching for the right word, “agreement?”

“No kissing on the lips unti-”

Your hand is fisted in his shirt, your lips are warm and insistent against his.

You expect anger, pulling back, or even shoving hands. Instead, Croc is scrambling out of his seat, careful to keep your lips locked, and helping you to clamber over the desk towards him with a greedy grip. You won’t be free from his taste or hold the whole night through. Now that they’ve had you, they’ll haunt you all your days, keeping him alive with each time they possess you.

You sneak your way into it

Sir Crocodile doesn’t get to enjoy late risings often. That’s why he makes sure to wring them of all they’re worth, and that’s only become better with you there. 

Knowing that the morning lacked a rude awakening, you both indulged in a night of the senses - seeing the sights, hearing live music, eating and drinking with abandon before coming home to get your fill of each other in all five senses, especially touch.

As Sir Croc comes back to his body, floating from the abyss of sleep one breath at a time, he finds his sense of touch being coaxed and teased. Gentle fingers brush across his skin along familiar trails made to map and admire his large form. They round over muscles, press into places of softness, tickle at the sensitive skin of his wrist, his blunted forearm, his hips, his neck.

The touches all feel so full of adoration and something else he’s felt more and more from you. He’s finding it harder and harder to ignore, especially because he’s used to adoration and there’s something different in yours - something softer, gentler, surer. Something he is sure by now is genuine love.

Each time it comes out he lets it wash over him as best he can without solidifying its bond. After all, this was never meant to be love.

But feeling your affection made it impossible to ignore how much better life would be if he always woke up with you.

Sir Croc encourages more of your touches, following them where he could and bedding his cheek into the top of your head. You happily snuggle deeper against him and his heart leaps.

Knowing he’s awake, you begin placing sweet kisses against his skin, teasing at the edge of his trimmed chest hair. He lets out a long breath with the undertone of a content groan rumbling through it. You smile against the plush of his pec, happy he’s still fuzzy from sleep and primed for your plot

Your lips trail and massage higher, over clavicle and to neck. He tilts his jaw away to give you free reign of the sensitive skin from his throat to his ear. Your thigh mimics the rising of your lips, trailing slow and tender over Croc’s front until it brushes from his thigh to his stomach. The rise and fall with his breathing is calming under you and the steadiness made it easier to notice when his breathing hitched and his muscles twitched against you.

His hand returned your affection mindlessly, simply following whatever instinct compelled him. Mostly it trailed from the nape of your neck to your hip and back, taking small moments to press you closer when he didn’t want one of your kisses to move quite yet.

Everything was deep breaths echoing against skin, the comforting pressure of bodies melding wherever you touched, the dance of give and take with affection. Each place you pushed your love, Croc opened himself to feel more of it, even when you left his shoulder chest and neck to explore his scarred cheek

He doesn’t even hesitate to let you near when you first trail the tip of your nose over the strong angle cut by his jaw. The barely there stubble blended to a moment of pure softness before being interrupted by the ridges of his scar

Croc is fully and willingly enchanted by your soft and smooth actions. He couldn’t bear to make you stop, couldn’t care for any pretense or boundary of his it would break so long as you don’t stop touching him so sweetly. His whole body feels light and alive and he’s struck with the realization that he’s as in deep as you are.

You place your first kiss to his face on his scar where it cuts across his cheekbone. He presses just a millimeter deeper into the plush of your lips

You follow the path of the scar, feeling his lashes tickle the tip of your nose on your way. All the while Croc keeps his languid caresses going on your skin, still lulled by recent sleep and the comfort of your touch and warmth and the want for more.

When you get to the bridge of his nose, you break contact to press your foreheads together. His hand slips up your back to rest at the back of your neck, holding you to him. You bump your nose on his and he bumps back. You tilt to leave a kiss on his cheek. His finger tail up to softly scratch at the base of your skull. You smile against him and feel his own cheek rise momentarily against you.

Sir Crocodile feels more free of thought and obligation than he has in years. Your slow acts of worship have brought out a peace in him that he’s rarely known. There is no rush or push, just a calmness and sureness that this is where he should be and how he should feel. That you both belong here.

And then something changes when you kiss right outside the corner of his lip.

He is left wanting.

You linger at the spot before moving just barely away and coming back just a hair closer to his own lips.

Each near miss felt unnatural and unsatiating, quickening his heart and breath in his discomfort and discontent. The hand at your head goes from caressing to holding, urging you to stop fleeing and teasing.

You smile again against him and this time there’s no mirrored grin from him; he’s falling too quickly into a pit of need, one he didn’t notice you digging with every caress and kiss.

You tease  your lips to the corner of his, planning to press more firmly directly on target, but his hand grips you firmly and he’s turning and insistent lips slot hungrily against yours.

You gasp in delight while he shudders out a breath he’s been holding since he met you.

Then I had a better angle come to me by remembering a basic writing preference, that the circumstances around the kiss - the ‘why’ not just the ‘what’ are much better for generating a scene, luckily in the above I think I amended that mistake when I went into more detail! (keeping these more to the stream I originally wrote them in cuz I fear I went on too long above LOL)

He kisses you after fearing for your safety

He kisses you for fear you’ll leave

You kiss him in anger, wanting to prove you’re worthy

He kisses you while you sleep, too afraid for you to know the hold you’ve had on him all along

He kisses you to soothe you, pull you from your fears and sorrows to just float with him in your little bubble away from all the hurts of the world, held aloft by sensation and need and affection

He kisses you to possess you, someone else coming too close and needing the message

You kiss him in joy, ignoring all the dirt and grime that came back with him from Impel Down

You kiss him with a sorrowful heart, needing to comfort the man who was larger than life now sat sadly before you bare of all, even his golden hook and ego

You kiss each other, your lips had sweetly made their way up his neck and across that strong jaw, coming to rest unsure right at the corner of his lips, your shaky breathes puff sweetly across his cheek as he tilts his head to rest temple to forehead, the turn to face you fully is slow and caressing, his own breath coming to mingle with yours, your noses bushing gently. The barest tilt of his head has your lax lips tentatively brush his, just the faintest tickle of skin on skin. A shaky exhale - his or yours you’re not sure - and your lips press more surely, first easing in like the first step into dark waters before you both succumb to diving under. A fierce grip slips to the nape of your neck, endlessly dragging you closer

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

Thank you for reading and thank you anon for your ask 💜 I'm gonna be better at getting back to the others (life was being life lol) and up next I have some comfort fics and x marine reader! And perhaps a little filth 👌🏻

Masterlist

[commandershepardvasfuckit]

An Arranged Marriage, part 7

(This is the second part posted on the same day! Make sure you didn’t miss 6!)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

M!troll x f!reader

1.2k words (tw for mention/suggestion of assault)

Zen’jan’s secret left you reeling and without a plan you left the city, but is the wilds really any better?

————

All the air left your lungs at his words, you want to scream but could not even manage that.

“It is alright” Zen’jan said trying to reassure you while getting up and taking a step towards you, finger still bleeding and dagger still in hand, “You are safe here, I promise! Please just sit and listen to me” he took another step towards you and reached for your hand.

“Don’t touch me!” you screamed at him, finally finding your voice. The clawing panic was rising in your throat, threatening to strangle you into silence again.

You looked at the man in front of you, the man who had been taking care of you and watching over you, it was like he was a complete stranger all over again. A follower of the Shadows, and avatar of the God of Shadows!

He looked visibly hurt and took a step back, “I am so sorry, I know I should not have sprang this on you, but please just listen to me, to Tsov’ka” slowly he reached his hand back out to you.

“No! Leave me alone!” you scrambled away from the shrine, away from Zen’jan. You did not know where you were going, but you had to get away. The brighter lights of the other shrine rooms and then the daylight blinded you, but once more being in the light comforted you and shook the deep chill out of your bones.

You kept moving, putting as much distance between yourself and the shrines, and hopefully Zen’jan. Nowhere felt safe, not home, not anywhere in the city, no one to talk to.

Out of the city it was then. You passed under the main gates that lead out of the ravine and into the surrounding grasslands. A few times you came out here with Bira, you knew it was pretty safe, especially if you followed along the small mountain ranged that housed the city.

For hours you walked, at first occasionally seeing people or passing by farms until they got fewer and fewer until you truly were alone. You did not have a plan, all you knew was that going back to the city was not an option.

You walked until your legs nearly gave out, collapsing into a sobbing mess, leaning against one of the very few trees in the grasslands for a needed bit of shade. It was a bit before midday when you had left, now the sun had moved fairly far along its path and would start in set in the next hour or so.

You curled up, maybe a nap would help you clear you mind a little.

“What’s a human doing way out here?” came a man’s voice that jolted you awake.

“Isn’t she the Lord Admiral’s daughter? The one that got married off?” came a second voice.

“Lucky day if she is” said the first one again.

You cracked your eyes open just enough to check your surroundings. Several human men stood around you, still not aware you had woken up.

“Whatcha figure she’s doing out here?” asked another.

“Who knows, who cares. You know the reward on her if anyone gets her back to her father? Set for life” answered the first.

Your father? None of it particularly made sense, you were tired and dehydrated, but at least this could be your way out.

“She’s a pretty thing, isn’t she? Shame she’s been ruined by a fucking monster” another chimed in.

“Speak for yourself, I’d still fuck her” the second piped up.

“Isn’t the reward for either bringing her back or for making it look like the monsters killed her?” came one of the previous voices.

“It is, it’s anything they can use to righteously start this war again. Get her home and let her father spin some horrible tales, or just kill her now and make it look like the monsters turned on her” answered the first again.

The War. It had only ended a few months ago. The death toll on both sides had been horrific, though most of the fighting all happened on the seas and grasslands surrounding the city here, and you had seen just how bad it was.

“Seems like a lot of effort to bring her back, another mouth to feed and supplies are already low. I say have a little fun with her and the just kill her” one suggested.

Your heart was racing, suddenly things were going sideways very fast. There looked to be six or so of them and only one of you, not good odds. You weighed the chances of bolting, though you were not sure if you could get away fast enough.

“Fine, it’s all the same in the end. Grab her and bring her back to camp at least though”.

You decided to take your chances, it looked like either die for sure soon or at least try to live. With whatever strength you could muster you leapt up and booked it, only making it a few steps before you were grabbed by your wrist.

“Now where do you think you’re going, little thing? And how much did you hear?” asked the first. He was an imposing man, the quintessential bandit looking type, as were the others.

You screamed, loud as you could until he placed a hand over your mouth.

“Screaming isn’t going to do anything, you’re miles and miles from anyone else, and you’re going to give me a headache with all that. Someone, knock her out”.

Before you could register anything else you were hit with a blinding pain on the back of your head, then blackness.

You awoke with a splitting headache and to the muffled sounds of voices.

“…in a bit, where’s she going anyways? Her hands are tied” one said.

It was dark, you had been tossed in a tent with your hands tied and left alone for now. Tears streamed down your face. You ran from the shadows, you heeded the teachings of the Light, why didn't the Light protect you?

It was getting cold with the sun down now, you could see the shadows cast by the fire poking under the tent, but its warmth could not reach you.

“It’s fucking cold, isn’t it?” one of the men asked.

“Toss some more wood on the fire then” another replied.

“And it’s fucking dark” the first speaker said.

“It’s nighttime, of course it’s dark you f-” he was cut off.

Everything was eerily silent for a moment, then the world was plunged into inky black darkness.

Screaming and snarling pierced through the stillness. Bloodcurdling screams of dying men and the snarls of something else. You held you breath and squeezed your eyes shut while you tried to block out the sounds of death. Fear gripped you and you just hoped whatever was out there would miss you.

Moments dragged to minutes, to what felt like an eternity until nothing but silence remained and the glow of the fire returned. Cautiously you peered under the edge of the tent, nearly retching at the sight. Blood soaked the ground in shiny puddles, men lay in shreds, mauled to the point of being unrecognizable amongst the viscera.

“I am so sorry” came a familiar voice at the door of the tent.

You looked up to see a figured cloaked in shadows, but it was a familiar one.

“Zen?”

And once more the world was black.

Part 8

[nariism]

i loved you on a moonlit summer night

pair. diluc ragnvindr x gn!reader

content: tooth-rotting fluff, love at first sight, allusions to reincarnation but no actual instances of reincarnation

synopsis. diluc knows that he doesn't belong in mondstadt anymore. he doesn't belong anywhere— no place to truly call home and nothing in this world but vengeance in his heart. but on a wintery day on dragonspine, he finds his salvation: a box of cecelias, a fire seelie, and the owner of the best flower shop in the city.

wc. 8.4k

a/n: thank you to my beautiful @hyomagiri for beta reading, helping edit and hyping this fic up to the max. i ended up feeling confident enough to post this because of her, three cheers for ellie i love you to the moon and back <3

WINTER

It wasn’t his fault. How was he supposed to know that buried beneath blankets of snow and sheets of ice, there would be Cecelias?

Fire seelies are usually reliable with a bounty of treasure waiting at the end of their path. He isn't sure why it led him here, to some inconspicuous pile of snow which he hastily melted without realizing there was something precious hidden within.

The mistake doesn’t register with Diluc until the sweet scent of flowers and ash and burning wood wafts under his nose. He blinks in confusion at the pile, perfectly burnt to a crisp and resting at the tip of his boots.

Boxed up flowers? What are they doing out in the middle of the mountain?

He remembers then, a story someone once told him— he can't put a name to the voice but it echoes in the hollow chambers of his heart:

"Did you know that you can preserve the freshness of flowers? All you have to do is box them up nice and tight and store them in the snow."

It's an interesting tidbit of information. He can't for the life of him remember where he heard it from, though.

Wind howls in his ears, powdery snow from over the horizon plowing down the mountainside and into his face. It doesn't deter him from examining the scene. The fire seelie floats just above his shoulder, quiet now as it looks at the pile.

He’s entirely distracted by the sight, unsure of what to make of the strange discovery, until he hears the crunch of snow behind him. With the Fatui lingering around the foot of the mountain, he expects to whip around and face an enemy. He even braces himself to be knocked off his feet by a wild boar.

Instead, his sudden movement frightens you and makes you stumble back until you fall flat onto the ground.

There’s a long pause of silence that stuffs the air, neither you nor him tearing your eyes away from each other. You freeze like a deer caught in headlights, so still that it looks like you've succumbed to the frozen climate of the mountain. He breathes a slow sigh of relief when a wavering exhale leaves your lips in the form of a puff of cloudy air.

The heart resting in his chest stirs. An ancient dull ache, thrumming in the depths of his body as he looks at you in surprise.

Again, there's a voice in his ear. This time, he recognizes it as his father:

"Your mother? I fell in love at first sight."

Growing up, he never quite understood that string of words. First sight? How could someone fall in love at first sight?

Diluc Ragnvindr is a million things, but romantic is not one of them. Love at first sight is a silly fairytale that parents tell their children to tuck them into bed. It's something that could never exist in such a cruel world, plagued by monsters and evil.

It's easy for him to close his heart off to the idea of something as ridiculous as love at first sight, despite the way his eyes haven't left yours. And he's painfully aware of the way you're looking at him too, but he does his best to ignore your gawking.

Maybe he's catching a cold. He doesn't feel well all of the sudden.

Your gaze drifts to the pile of ash just behind him and you sigh, putting your head into your hands wet from snow.

"You found my seelie," you murmur, sounding very unimpressed. He blinks at you until you continue, "Those were important, you know. They were for a very special occasion."

Diluc takes in your form, clothes thin and unfit for the snowy conditions of Dragonspine. Even without the chilly altitude of the mountain, this winter in general was particularly bitter. He almost wants to scold you for dressing so thoughtlessly, even though he doesn't know your name.

"My apologies. I will reimburse you whatever the cost, and more."

"It's... not about that," you tell him from your place on the ground, still not looking at him. You seem stressed. His heart squeezes terribly.

"Not about what?"

"Mora."

He falls silent, so quiet that you finally peer up at him wondering whether or not he's even still standing there. And he is, regarding you with a thoughtful expression. His presence is so unnoticeable despite being right in front of you that it makes your skin crawl.

"How can I make it up to you?" He asks, extending his hand for you to take. Your clothes are soaked through already, cold and frozen from the subzero temperature. It doesn't help soothe his worries that he can feel a storm coming. He should get you out of here as soon as possible.

You huff, allowing him to drag you to your feet. It's then that you realize how warm he is, almost hot to the touch. The faint glimmer of a Vision dangles on his hip. Your eyes flicker back to his and he nearly jolts out of his skin.

"Don't worry about it. It's alright," you tell him though you sound disingenuous about it. You're obviously distracted, probably wondering how to explain to your client that their expensive flowers ended up as a pile of ash.

"It was my mistake. Please, let me know if there's anything at all I can do," he replies earnestly.

"Really, it's fine," you sound slightly exasperated by his stubbornness. If it were anyone ordinary, they would have taken your mercy and left you to freeze on the mountain without a second thought.

Diluc Ragnvindr is no ordinary man.

It takes him a moment to realize his hand is still gripping yours rather tightly. He recoils with an awkward cough.

“What are you doing out here in the mountains?” He asks. It dawns on him then what a stupid question it is, since you’ve obviously come to collect your frozen flowers. You tell him anyways:

"I buried some flowers further up the mountain a few days ago," you sigh, "not sure if I can find them anymore, though. That's why I've been following this little one around."

You scratch under the seelie's chin. Well, where you would imagine its chin to be, at least. It seems thrilled by the affection.

"It's going to storm soon. You should head back down the mountain and try again later."

"It's urgent," you insist, ready to brush past him and continue the trek up.

He stops you with your wrist in his hand. "Then please, let me accompany you to the top of the mountain. It isn't safe with the Fatui lingering around. It's the least I could do."

You eye him hesitantly, but then your shoulders relax and you sigh again. "Okay, okay. We should hurry and get out of here, then."

He wordlessly follows you up the trail, watching your movements carefully. While you don't seem suspicious, he can never be too sure when it comes to the Fatui. Save for the rustling of pine trees and the soft crunch of snow beneath your boots, empty silence fills the air.

It drives him crazy. So crazy that he decides to speak.

"What's your name?"

The name that leaves your lips makes him smile. He can only think that it really does suit you. 

"My name is–"

"Diluc. Diluc Ragnvindr, right?"

Heat creeps up to his cheeks. Of course you know who he is. He's the most famous person in all of Mondstadt, for Archon's sake.

"I've seen you around the city," you quickly explain, awkwardly fumbling over your words. "And at festivals and such."

Before he can dwell too much on it, your seelie chirps— once, twice, three times as it dives into the snow and slowly melts it away. You suddenly halt in your steps, crouching down to sift through the remainder. An exhale of relief leaves you when you dig out a box, intact and frozen to the touch.

He looks on in curiosity. Your hand brushes the snow off the top of the box and you open it, revealing another couple dozen Cecelias.

"Thank goodness..." and your seelie seems to agree, because it dances around your head with a pleased noise.

You're too busy admiring the flowers to realize the snow has kicked up. He's too busy admiring you to notice, either. It isn't until the seelie dips in front of your face with a panicked garble that you finally tear your eyes away from your box of flowers.

"It started to snow..."

Diluc's gaze drifts from you to the darkening sky. It's much too late to make your way down the mountain. In his time in Snezhnaya he learned one very important rule of surviving the cold: you can't outrun snow.

Your seelie leads you to a small cave in a section of rock, covered in starsilver and crystalflies. There isn't any kindling to make a fire, and he isn't willing to brave this type of storm just for some wood.

Diluc shrugs his coat off his shoulders and wraps it around your shoulders in a single motion. Heat envelops you, warmer than the fire seelie that guided you through the mountains. It’s a warmth that fills you from the pit of your stomach all the way to the tips of your fingers.

The seelie floats between you, trying to do its best to keep the both of you in its light.

It's comfortable and quiet for a while— not a peep from either of you as you listen to the howling of wind and snow outside. 

How did Diluc ever end up here?

Bad luck, karma, anything that would explain why he ended up snowed in atop Dragonspine with you— anything at all other than it was in the stars' design that he be with you right here and now. Fate mocks him.

Even worse, there's a voice in his head telling him that this is exactly where he needs to be right now. He's getting a migraine.

Diluc watches you sift through the remaining ashes of the burnt box, trying to see if there's anything you can salvage. Unfortunately, Diluc's Pyro vision was only good for combat and keeping you warm at this moment.

"I'm... really sorry," he says again, looking away sheepishly. He can't bear to look at the disappointment furrowing in your brows.

The sound of a sigh echoes in the cave, and he finally manages to look at you. To his surprise, you're only staring back at him with soft eyes: no contempt, no anger, no disappointment. It makes his heart sink, not only with guilt, but also because there's just something so sweet about you that it makes him want to hold you closer.

"It's okay. At least a majority of them survived. It'll be plenty."

"If you don't mind me asking, what were they for?"

"A bouquet for a wedding. The bride specifically asked for Cecelias, since it was the first bouquet he ever gifted her," there's a fondness on your face that makes him snort. You look at him funny. "What? It's romantic."

"They're just flowers. What's so sentimental about that?"

"They're not just flowers," you frown, scooting a little closer into his side to soak up more of his heat. The fire seelie's light flickers against your face. "Cecelias only grow in extremely windy places. They're illustrious and elegant, even after growing in such harsh conditions. Isn't that just..." you smile at him, slow and warm. "It's beautiful."

Diluc considers your explanation for a moment, tugging his coat around your shoulders tighter. "I suppose so."

"You suppose?" You laugh. "My my, I didn't know Diluc Ragnvindr was so down-to-earth when it comes to romance."

Your laugh is doing terrible things to him. There's something about it that reminds him of the days he spent wandering the Winery as a boy with Kaeya in tow. The nights he would spend catching crystalflies. Times long since passed. He suddenly aches to be back among the grapevines.

"I don't indulge in that sort of thing."

He never could, so long as there was something ugly and bitter and tainted in his heart.

"You've never fallen in love?"

"Not once."

Love like that doesn't exist. Not in a world like this.

He repeats what he believed was true, chants the mantra in his head until he's dizzy as if trying to convince himself that he isn't already lost in you. The warm orange glow of the seelie dances in your eyes, lights up your smile in a way that makes his stomach turn.

I fell in love at first sight. They were words that he couldn't understand until today.

"Is that so?" You muse, slotting your head in the space between his jaw and shoulder. He doesn’t move away. "You're an unusual man, Diluc."

"Maybe I am."

But he knows that the moment he met you, everything was about to change. You don't even dignify him with a glance as you say it:

"Let's fall in love, then."

The demand is simple and he's absolutely positive you're joking. Something in his soul tugs anyway. He swears one thing at that moment: someway, somehow, he'll make it all up to you.

You are, after all, the first person to remind him of home in a long time. Every aspect of you is so comforting and familiar, even if he can't quite place his finger on it yet.

You reach out to pet your seelie, even though you know your hand will phase through it. "You sure did lead me to some strange treasure, hm?"

It trills happily with a little twirl.

Diluc meets you in winter, in the valley between the peaks of Dragonspine. He meets you, and it smells of burnt wood and ash and Cecelias. It's so cold that you can't feel your fingers but you're smiling in the afterglow of a seelie nonetheless, and so is he.

SPRING

He learns that you own the little flower shop at the edge of Mondstadt, just within the front gates of the city.

You're teaching a young girl, Flora, how to nurture them. And he finds it a little endearing, the way you're so gentle not only with Flora but with the flowers you're showing her: daisies and tulips and Windwheel Asters, all of which are in season right now.

Diluc recognizes you when you open back up for spring, surrounded by boxes stuffed with fresh bouquets. You seem to be in a rush getting organized, holding a stack of boxes instead of taking them one by one and clumsily scattering them around so you can go through them.

He stops you by stepping in front of you, two hands on either side of the stack to steady them as you stumble to a halt.

"Diluc?" You peer from around the boxes. He can only see your curious eyes from this angle. He laughs.

"Sorry to interrupt you when you're so busy. Do you need help?"

"Well–" you do a little hop to straighten up the boxes in your arms, "–it would be nice to have an extra set of hands getting everything ready for the Windblume Festival." You contemplate his offer for a brief moment, then ultimately decide against it. "But I would hate to steal you away from your other responsibilities. You're helping with the festival too, right?"

"I owe you one. Think of this as a favour from a friend," he refutes stubbornly.

"I'm sure many would be missing the help of Diluc Ragnvindr," you tease, shifting around so that your body tilts toward him.

It's then that he can finally look at you fully, with a soft orange apron tied around your waist and Windwheel Asters in your hair to match.

One day, you would go on and explain to him that it was sort of like advertising, and that showing off how nice the blooms look as an accessory brought in a lot of business. Right now all it does is render him breathless.

"They can afford to miss me.” He can't help the smile that creeps its way onto his face at the sight of you— he feels silly about it too, like some lovesick little boy.

You hand off the boxes into Diluc's arms. "Can they? I heard you were supplying all of the wine for the festival. That's a tall order," you giggle, bending down to grab another two boxes of flowers.

"It's... manageable," he answers, making a mental note to himself to buy Adelinde dinner some time as a thank you. "What about you? What are all these boxes for?"

"We're holding a flower gifting service in the plaza, on the night of the big party." He looks at you curiously as you continue, "You can send someone you care for a flower or two, or you can send them anonymously if you just wanted to make someone's day!"

"Sounds..."

You smile knowingly. "Romantic?"

Diluc places the boxes down on the ground and pries the lids off, revealing more and more ready-to-bloom flowers. "Yeah. Romantic," he sighs.

"These will all be in full bloom in time for the festival.” You lean down behind him where he's crouched down, until your chin is nearly resting on his shoulder. He's sure his breath hitches so loud that you can hear it.

The following weeks entail complete mayhem. With the end of spring rapidly approaching, excitement buzzes throughout the city. Notably, he overhears many talking about your business and the new flower gifting service.

The Windblume Festival is a special time for Diluc. His father used to take him and Kaeya as children, back when the world was a little happier. On the night of the festival, he stands at the booth contemplating. Unlike a majority of the citizens of Mondstadt, he has not a clue who to give a flower to. Flora frowns.

"Um, mister, are you ever going to write a name down?"

The quill halts just above the piece of paper. "I don't have to sign my name, do I?"

"You can send it as a secret."

Diluc looks up from where he's bent over, observing you from a few feet away. You're conversing with some ladies who are interested in your bouquets. It was a good business idea to do something like this.

He only meant to support your idea as a friend. Now he's conflicted on whether or not he should dare to write your name.

You look absolutely radiant tonight with magical crystal chunks strewn about your hair and a crown of flowers circling your head. He isn't sure he's ever seen someone so beautiful.

He finally decides. When you turn back around to give him your attention, he's gone.

He's sure that will be the end of it, and that after tonight your brief and strange relationship with him will come to an end. But then you come bounding up to him just as he's about to head out.

"Look! A flower!" You exclaim, shoving it into his face. He's pleased that you like the one he picked out for you.

"Yes, I see that. It's nice."

"Nice? Nice?! It's adorable! I've never gotten one before."

He looks at you funny. "Never?"

"Nope," you laugh sheepishly. "I don't really get out much. Too busy running the shop."

He takes the flower from your hands and tucks it just behind your ear, adding it amongst the crown of Asters surrounding you like a halo.

"It suits you.”

"Does it?" You ask him quietly.

His heart beats furiously. How could he ever steel himself when you have such a big smile on your face, adorned with flowers and gemstones?

"Will you dance with me?" The question leaves him before he can stop it. You look at him in wonder, with his fingers brushing the hair from your face. Whatever evil overtakes him in that moment, he'll have to thank later, because without hesitation you're dragging him into the middle of the plaza with glee.

You come to learn that he isn't exactly what you'd call an elegant dancer. He only knows movements that he learned at banquets held by his family— basic steps born from obligation. 

"I thought you'd be better at this," you tease, allowing him to pull you along by the waist.

"I don't dance," he huffs. "I haven't in a long time."

"We should dance together more, then."

Diluc sighs, but there's a tiny smile spreading across his face. "I guess we should."

"This flower... do you know what it represents?" You gesture to the bloom tucked behind your ear. He shakes his head and you continue, "It means everlasting love."

He laughs at the irony.

"I see. How... fetching."

"I wonder who it was," you smile to yourself. He thinks you look breathtaking.

Diluc's lips curl at your joy. He twirls you under his arm once, twice, then pulls you back into his body as he considers your words.

"Yes, I wonder who," he mutters with an amused expression that you just barely miss. And he knows exactly who, but he's not sure if he could handle seeing you melt into a lovestruck puddle at his admission.

Diluc dances with you in spring, under the warm glow of lanterns and the taste of grape juice staining his tongue. He dances with you, and it smells of the Windwheel Asters that crown your head and mint jelly on your breath.

He tugs you a little closer, just because.

SUMMER

If you were to ask Diluc how he felt about these big "charity" events, he would scoff in your face and lecture you about how they were nothing more than money traps set up by the Knights of Favonius.

He would say it purely out of spite, of course, mostly because he knows Jean is too kindhearted to allow for such shady business. Openly, at least.

His distaste for the Knights and all they stand for are not hidden deep in his heart. He sneers when there's a casualty— mocks their inefficiency at any given opportunity.

You never knew him to be such a bitter man when it came to the Knights. Diluc was good at keeping up his polite and indifferent charade to their practices.

It wasn't until the beginning of summer when you realized his loathing. It was their own incompetence that led a horde of slimes directly into the city, nearly smashing your little shop to bits.

You've never seen him so furious.

Outwardly, he was simply curt with them. He had only a few choice words lined up when they apologized with their heads hung low, watching them with his arms crossed over his chest.

Inwardly, you could see the anger swimming in his eyes.

That was three weeks ago. It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth to think that just three weeks ago, they were leading danger straight into your shop and now here they are, asking you to donate to their cause.

"You're sulking," you tell him from across the table. He immediately sits up straight, jaw relaxing.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You know," you smile at him, moving one of your pawns forward, "I think the Knights are happy you're here. Relieved, at the very least, that you don't seem mad at them anymore."

He only frowns whilst knocking your pawn over with a bishop. "I wasn't mad at them."

"You were. Even I could tell."

"They almost got you hurt."

"Almost," you remind him with a small huff. "They were just slimes! No harm no foul."

You make a fatal move, but he doesn't even gloat because he's too busy cursing out the Knights in his head.

"I just find it in poor taste that they would ask for your hard-earned Mora after endangering you like that." He shrugs you off nonchalantly, as if you can't see the fire blazing in his eyes at the mere thought of it. 

You blink at the chessboard as he checkmates you, slumping back in your seat with a tiny pout. "Once again, you've bested me."

"It seems I have," he says, lips finally twitching up into a small smile.

"Don't you ever get tired of beating me at this game? I sure do."

"That's a shame. Same time tomorrow?"

He watches with a laugh as you grumble in irritation. You can't help but notice how quiet it is, even over the chatter of the people in the plaza. There's something off about him today.

It's clear that he doesn't want to be here, volunteering his time to the Knights for a cause he has no faith in. It was a favour for Jean, he told you, to which you mused that he owed a lot of friends favours.

To be a noble in Mondstadt, and especially the wealthiest, Diluc is obligated to attend all sorts of gatherings he detests. You can see it written all over his face.

"Hey," you call out to him softly, leaning over the table. Your voice is a hush as you tell him: "Let's get out of here."

He glances around. "I'm expected to be here, you know?” He laughs once more, though he seems to be considering your offer. He decides to indulge you. "Where would you like to go?"

You think for a moment, brows furrowed. He watches the minute twitch of your lips, the creases of your smile; everything about you is so alive and beautiful.

Then, you point. You point high, with a breathless giggle. 

"There," you say, gesturing toward the giant statue of Barbatos, "let's go up there."

He almost flat out rejects you, wanting to scold you about how dangerous it would be and that, for someone without a vision, you sure do have the gall to even suggest it.

But then he sees the excitement twinkling in your eyes, which are already scrunched up from how big your smile is. How could he refuse?

Diluc ends up trailing behind you, inconspicuously hugging his coat close to his body. You don't realize why until you're standing at the feet of the statue.

You gasp at the bottle of wine tucked into his coat. "Did you steal that?"

"The Winery provided all of this. I would hardly consider it stealing," he chuckles.

You nudge him with your elbow, a grin on your face as you accept the bottle into your hands. "I didn't know you were so sly, Diluc."

"I used to do this all the time when I was a kid."

"Steal wine bottles?" You look at him with wide eyes and an impressed smile.

"The maids forbade me from drinking at the Winery's banquets. Try telling a thirteen year old boy not to do something, see what happens," he huffs in amusement.

"You don't even like wine," you remind him. Diluc only hums in response, grabbing it and stuffing it back into his coat as he takes his first leap up the stone.

"Consider it a gift.” He twists around so he can look down at you where you stand, watching him with a mixture of fascination and horror.

His hand extends to yours. For as many times in this life as he is willing to offer it, you would take it.

He helps haul you up to the very top, barely breaking a sweat as he watches you climb beside him. After all, he withstood countless adversaries in his time in Snezhnaya: climbed mountains as tall as the sky with nothing but his claymore. 

When you ask how he's so calm about this, he only tells you that he used to climb to the roof of the manor when he was a boy.

He had a lot of secrets kept caged up in his body, you realized many months ago. Diluc was never too vocal about his time before he returned to Mondstadt.

You do remember, however, that at the banquet they threw for him to celebrate his return home, he seemed cold and indifferent to the warm welcome. In fact, it was like his mind was entirely elsewhere. You can picture the day well— it was the largest order of flowers you'd ever received after all.

You're glad he's settled back into Mondstadt, at least. You just never thought you'd have a chance to actually meet him.

He watches as you nervously teeter over to the edge of the statue, peering down with a nervous gulp. You relax when his hands steady you, gently guiding you to sit down in a more safe position.

"I've never been so high up off the ground!" You cry out toward the city, feet dangling over the edge of the Archon's hands.

"It's nice, isn't it? Much different than the kind of heights you feel on Dragonspine."

You take in a long breath of fresh air, as if savouring the wind at this height. "It's pretty.” You finally conclude. There's a dreamy sigh on your lips that makes him laugh.

He uncorks the bottle he lugged up with him, passing it over to you. Instead of taking it, your head tilts back and he takes the opportunity to pour the wine past your lips himself.

Silence festers between you two as he pours the sweet alcohol into your mouth, all rational thought being carried away by the wind.

He isn't sure how long you stay that way: shoulders touching, hair blowing, and feet dangling in the air. For someone who wanted to climb the statue to see the city, you sure are being shameless in your staring directly at him.

You're looking at him in a way that makes him melt— eyes so laser focused and crinkling with your smile. You look at him like he's the only person in the world. Right now, he might really be that important. His heart swells in his chest.

"What is it?" Speak your mind. Let me hear all your crazy thoughts.

"You came all the way up here with me. You came up here. With me."

You emphasize your point by extending your arms out to your sides, feeling the breeze wash over you.

He knows what’s coming next. You love clichés. And he doesn't stop you, for some reason, when you open your mouth again just as he predicted.

"I think I'm falling for you."

"I would hope not. We're pretty high up in the air."

You swat his arm with a huff, face turning a little more serious. "I mean it!"

Diluc grows quiet, looking out toward the city. His home. The place he grew up, and the place he'll spend the rest of his days. The distant sound of people chattering, water flowing from the fountain, music playing: all sounds he's grown so familiar with and yet—

"I love you."

—he never thought it could be so beautiful until he climbed up here with you.

"You love a lot of things," he muses.

"Like what?"

He looks at you softly. "Like Cecelias. Mondstadt hashbrowns for breakfast. And you say you hate the cold but I know you love it up in Dragonspine— think it looks so pretty with all the snow."

You nod, mulling over his statement before asking: "What else?"

"I know you love that orange apron; Flora's mother sewed it for you herself, didn't she? And you love Anemo slimes, think they're the cutest thing in the world even though I've seen them explode in your face multiple times before."

You're listening to him intently, watching his lips as he lists off all the things he knows about you. And he's been going for so long that you have to wonder if you've really only known him for eight months.

"You love Starfell Lake and making wishes while you blow away Dandelion seeds. You love fire seelies and tea imported from Liyue and going to charity events like this even though you don't owe the Knights any of your time."

Another silence settles between you.

"So I'm a romantic. Even then, you still won't accept that I love you?" You ask him quietly.

He hesitates only for a moment, but you still catch it. "I won't."

"What is it with you and your cynicism about romance?"

"It's not like I don't believe love exists—" He’s looking at you right now, after all: living, breathing proof that Diluc could love something. "—I just... it's not for me."

"Not for you?" You repeat back to him in disbelief. "Love is beautiful, you know. You don't even want to give it a chance?"

You're looking at him earnestly, both hands pressed against the stone of the statue beneath you as you twist to stare him down.

"It's complicated," he murmurs, tearing his eyes away from yours. In his peripherals, he can still see you facing him. He doesn't dare look at you again for the sake of his own resolve.

Love was always a messy emotion for Diluc. To love was to trust completely, to be vulnerable and open. But he's been betrayed one too many times for his heart not to ache at the idea of falling in love so willingly.

It terrifies him— to have someone holding his heart in their hands with the chance that they could crush it into dust with the snap of their fingers.

Diluc was alone for many years in the northern region of Snezhnaya. He's good at being lonely. It's a part of the air he breathes, something engraved deep into his bones, terrible and grim and consuming his flesh until he's nothing.

He hadn't even realized he had grown accustomed to it. Not until he met you. Not until you stole his heart at first sight. Not until you made him understand all those times his father would speak of his mother once she was gone. It was always easier to be alone until he met you, and suddenly you came along and flipped the whole world onto its head.

Now Diluc can't be alone— he was losing the ability to sit in solitary silence without his thoughts screaming in his ears. He was constantly thinking about you. And it was always distracting things, like wondering when he would see your smile next, or when you would ever dance with him again.

Your head falls against his shoulder, hair tickling under his chin as you rest there. As if it were a remnant of eons past, his lips find the crown of your head reflexively. And you don't pull away by any means, allowing him to be affectionate the only way he can and accepting him as he comes.

The words don't need to be said anymore. He already knows. It's a story rewritten a million times over, buried somewhere deep in his soul.

He decides that maybe, just once in this life, it would be okay to take the risk. If it was you, he would be alright.

His arm comes around your waist protectively, pulling you closer into his body as if you'd disappear with the wind if he let go. He holds you there quietly, listening to your soft murmurs.

Diluc Ragnvindr deserves to be loved, is what you're telling him.

And despite the scars littering his body and the chains wrapped around his heart, he allows himself to believe it.

Diluc loves you in the summer, in the hands of the Anemo Archon. He loves you, and it smells of Dandelion Wine and the lingering scent of sweet flowers in your hair and all the things that make him dream of you.

For the first time since he returned to Mondstadt, he doesn't feel alone.

AUTUMN

It's the anniversary.

Diluc remembers the day too well— the smell of blood and flesh and how cold a corpse is. Sometimes it's all he can think about.

He cried when his father passed, as all boys would. Then, a fire replaced the hollow sadness in his heart, something fierce and dangerous and unhinged.

Fierce and dangerous and unhinged. Descriptors that he would consider second nature to him behind closed doors of the Tavern and hidden in the grapevines of the Winery. No one would ever know the real Diluc Ragnvindr, hellbent on vengeance since he was only a boy crying at his father's grave.

It wasn't until you came along that he felt something new blooming within him— something like beautiful flowers and a heartbeat slow and steady as waves on the shore, a yearning so powerful that it displaced the ugly bitterness in his heart.

Nowadays, Diluc felt like a confusing mixture of both light and darkness— treading the thin line that separated him from living in the moment with you, and seeking revenge for the past.

He doesn't realize the conflict within him has been bubbling into a raging fire, tearing him in half from the inside out, until today.

He talked to you about his father once, over a plate of sugar-frosted slime and Liyue imported jasmine tea. It was a day like any other, with you seated across from him having an afternoon snack.

My father liked sugar-frosted slime, he told you. It was the first time he'd ever let it be known that Crepus was on his mind, ever so present. A ghost haunting him. You didn't think much of it. Diluc seemed perfectly content living through his memories.

It was coincidence that brought you here on the exact day the world lost Crepus. Or, perhaps, the nagging voice in the back of your mind telling you to get out of bed and come here.

Your son is a wonderful man, is what you first whispered to the grave. And then you couldn't stop the words from pouring out of you, rambling on and on about how he raised a good boy, and how Diluc had taken your heart the moment you laid eyes on him.

He finds you sitting there in the rain with a sad excuse for an umbrella popped up above your head. His father's grave is adorned with flowers of all kinds— a respect that no one had ever paid him before.

You don't realize how much you move him with such a simple act. He had long since lost faith both in the Knights and the citizens that once looked up to his father so much; after all, it was only he and Kaeya who ever came around to visit.

It's not until he crumbles to his knees beside you that you even notice his tears, your smile fading as he looks at you in confusion.

You're not sure you've ever seen Diluc cry before.

"What are you doing here?" He asks, head tilting into your palm when you reach forward to wipe his tears with your thumb.

"Saying hello," you respond as if it's the obvious answer.

"You... huh?"

"It would be rude to fall in love with you without at least introducing myself first."

"You didn't have to do—" Diluc gestures to the grave, "—all this."

You smile. "I wanted to.” And the truth is as simple as that.

You were too good for this world. Something beautiful in a place where only ugliness lives. He almost hates how much hope you give him.

The world was always black and white for Diluc. Recently, he's been finding it hard to distinguish the two. 

There was right and there was wrong and there you were teetering between them, balancing hope and despair. It scared him to think of all the ways he could lose you, how he could one day end up bringing flowers to a grave with your name on it just as you did for his father.

What's the point of love if all it ends with is hurt?

He's sniffling, trying to chew on his bottom lip to distract himself from the ache in his chest. You notice his sudden quietness, turning to look at him.

"Hey.” Your voice is soft, as if he would shatter if you even spoke to him wrong right now. He might. "It's just me. It's okay."

"I don't cry. I hate crying," he admits through his tears.

He can't remember when he had cried last. Was it the day he came home? Or was it longer, like during those lonely nights spent hiding away in the mountains? The only vivid memory he has with tears staining his cheeks was the day his father died.

"You don't have to be ashamed of crying," you tell him, using your thumbs to wipe his lashes. "There's nothing wrong with that."

"I'm Diluc Ragnvindr. I'm not supposed to cry."

"You're Diluc Ragnvindr," you repeat back slowly, pulling his head toward you and cradling it against your shoulder. "You're human. What's wrong with that?"

Diluc doesn't feel human. He hasn't felt human in a long time. He's been something more like a ghost wandering around the places he used to love. Memories tainted by hatred and grief, it was as if he would never find beauty in this world again.

"I'm not," he breathes. "I'm not anything."

You pry him off of you. He blinks at you through his tears.

"Do you really believe that?"

He goes quiet, only staring at you as he soaks in your earnest eyes.

"I don't know what I am. I don't know what to do in this world anymore."

He's a mess of emotions— he almost wishes he were back in Snezhnaya where everything made sense. Where his entire existence was built up of seeking retribution. To a time when he knew where he belonged.

Diluc Ragnvindr only ever knew revenge. Only ever knew how to inflict pain. Only ever knew how to break kneecaps and hide in shadows and keep his lonely body warm with his Pyro vision.

He doesn't know love. He doesn't know how to do it without fighting the fire burning in his stomach when he grieves—

"You're just Diluc. Do you ever need to be anything more than that?"

—or maybe he hasn't given it the chance it deserves. The chance he deserves.

He realizes then, what love must be. What kept him up at night, the feeling raging in his chest:

There was no corner of Teyvat he could ever call home without you anymore. He belonged here, with you.

And accompanied with this realization is something that he hasn't felt in many years. Peace. A stillness in his body and the calm in his mind which was usually racing with contemplation— something he never thought he would feel again.

And it's because of you. Only you. It would only ever be because of your love.

"Would you accept me as I am?"

You smile. "I always have."

"You don't know who I am. The things I've done."

"Are they that bad?"

"Awful."

You hum in thought, thumb mindlessly brushing his cheek back and forth. "We have all the time in the world for you to explain," you add with another soft smile, "I believe you have your reasons. I believe in you."

He laughs, exhales shaky. "You're insane."

"Am I? But I think you're falling for me anyways."

So what if he is? He can't find a single reason wrong with it anymore.

The rain has started to let up, the world around him lighting up with warm sun. And you look so radiant like this, surrounded by the fog brought in by the storm and shining in sweet sunlight.

"Do you think we have your father’s approval?"

He doesn't have to answer that. Not when you're already leaning in closer to him.

The diminishing pitter-patter of rain against your shabby umbrella fills his ears. You're so close that he swears he can hear your heart thundering in your chest. 

Diluc has always been brave; he was a terrible troublemaker of a child that grew into a body too big for a boy— some part of him that he kept locked away for the sake of living his life as his father would have wanted. If he wanted to lead an empire of a business, he would need to grow up eventually.

He's always been brave, but he was still too much of a coward to stop using his father as a way out. Because he knows Crepus would have wanted Diluc to find happiness, not vengeance.

It's about time he stopped being afraid.

"I think he wants me to tell you something."

"And what's that?" You smile.

"That in this life—" he breathes, "—in this and the next and the one after until the stars of Teyvat run out, I will love you."

You snicker. He can feel it rumbling in his own chest. "How romantic," you tease with his breath in your lungs.

He shuts you up with his mouth.

Diluc kisses you in autumn, with the golden leaves of change. Diluc kisses you warm and sweet and long. He can't remember what was filling his senses at that moment. Your bodies were too close for him to care.

WINTER

Winter was always a bothersome season.

Even in his days away from Mondstadt, in all the time he spent roaming the north, he never quite grew accustomed to the freezing temperatures and harsh weather.

When Diluc left for Snezhnaya, he left his childhood behind, too. He abandoned who he was on the doorstep of his manor, put all his funds into the hands of Adelinde with no intent of returning, and left in the middle of the night without a word.

Half of him expected to die. The other half expected to not return by choice.

For the first few months he spent adjusting to the northern climate, he tucked himself away in a hidden cavern away from the Capital where the Tsaritsa resided. He was in no condition to battle, let alone challenge a god.

He spent many days stealthily hunting down lower ranking Fatui— people that no one would miss. At eighteen years old he had enough blood on his hands to guarantee Celestia's smiting. Blood that, as he learned, does not wash off.

He had to teach himself how to travel through thick snow. Through blizzards and hail and subzero temperatures nothing alike to those felt on Dragonspine.

And when he finally returned home, battle worn and hardened and cold, he couldn't stand the snow. Every crunch under his boots reminded him of the times he had to lug around his greatsword through treacherous enemy lines. Even the sound put him on edge for incoming attacks.

It wasn't like he was ever particularly fond of the cold but for a long time, as a boy, he would simply tolerate it. He had his Pyro vision, after all, and it never truly caused him any harm.

When Kaeya received his Cryo vision, things took a turn.

The cold represented nothing but death for Diluc. It was pain and grief and sorrow— loss in magnitudes indescribable to anyone else. It was bloodshed, the terrible stench of flesh, metal on metal. It was homesickness.

There was nothing poetic or beautiful about it. It only reminded him of all the things he had lost.

He would roll his eyes when Venti sang about the first snowfall of the season. His Pyro vision would glow until the ice melted around him. It's impractical, he told you when you first met and he was guiding you back down the mountain. It doesn't do any good except make you slip and fall.

Diluc remembers quite vividly how you snorted at that. And, like always, you went on to say things that would make his head spin. Find beauty in life even where you think it doesn't exist.

He didn't heed your advice all too much, instead grumbling about how his claymore was getting heavy and that he wanted to get back to the Winery as soon as possible.

But then he found that it was hard to ignore your words. Especially when you were showing him exactly how to do it— popping frozen grapes into his mouth that were somehow a little sweeter; mixing him hot cocoa the way your mother taught you; throwing snowballs at him from behind trees and thinking you've won until he nails you straight in the face in retaliation.

Winter always brought a smile to your face. And how could he not smile when you are?

The best part of it all was that the cold made you cling to him a little closer. A little tighter. So close that he swears he can hear your heart beating in his own ears, savouring his warmth unlike anyone he'd ever met before.

"My personal fire seelie," you joked once. He pinched your cheek until you slapped his hand away and buried your face back into his chest.

Diluc is pretty certain that he hasn't been this happy in a long time. Not since before his father passed, at least. Even with the nervous sigh that leaves him, you're urging him forward.

"I can't believe you never learned how to skate!"

"It's... not something noble families would have approved of."

"But you have this whole lake in your backyard!" You gawk. He only stifles a laugh, stumbling clumsily into your arms. You catch him as if you'd done it a thousand times before.

"Show me how it's done."

"It's like dancing," you say with an encouraging grin, pulling him along with you slowly. You're half right. Some aspects of it do remind him of a warm spring night, with music playing and your laughter in his ears. On the other hand, he can't seem to keep his skates straight.

"The ice won't fall through, right?" He murmurs anxiously, nodding at the Pyro vision hung on his belt.

"If it does, I'll save you!"

"I don't think you'd be able to carry me up from the water," he deadpans.

"I'd save you," you insist.

"Really?"

"Yes, really! For as many times as you need me to save you, I will."

And you did save him. Though, that statement is better left unspoken for the sake of the heat rising to his cheeks. Instead, he leans in to press a kiss to your forehead.

"I love you," he whispers into your skin.

Find beauty in life. Another set of words he never thought he would understand. But he's staring at beauty right in its face and it smells like Cecelias. Dances like a shooting star. Loves unconditionally.

Diluc always loathed winter, until you redefined it into a thing he missed dearly—

Home.

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

crossposted to ao3!

🏷️ @rintosei hi babe its up <3

[cece693]

you wrote about the mad hatter so well... i don't want to overwhelm you, obviously, but i would love a 2nd part!! and maybe in the future you can write some smut scenario with him? 😶‍🌫️

You're Not Crazy Pt. 2 (The Mad Hatter x M! Reader)

Here's the second part :) I'm iffy on writing smut for the Hatter since he's so childlike and I think he wouldn't go that far with someone, he probably finds kissing pleasurable enough, but who knows. I'll probably end up doing it 🤷‍♀️

tags: angst, happy ending, the reader tries to say goodbye, mentions of Alice, the reader is an idiot, but redeems himself

The Hatter's words stung, but you couldn't stay with him. You didn’t belong to Wonderland, as much as you envisioned yourself adapting to the world. You didn’t share its whimsical madness, its strange logic that defied all reason. You loved its colors, its characters—especially him—but deep down, you felt like an outsider playing pretend in a place that wasn’t truly yours.

So, you left.

Back in the real world, everything felt strangely muted. The once-familiar streets seemed dull and lifeless, lacking the vibrancy of Wonderland. Your sister Alice noticed your somber mood almost immediately. She’d seen you come back looking tired or perplexed before, but never like this. It was as if the life was sucked out of you; You weren’t yourself. She knew something big must've happened to put you in such a state.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow across the room, Alice found you sitting by the window, staring off into the distance. She approached quietly, her voice soft. “You’ve been awfully quiet since you got back. What happened in Wonderland?"

You hesitated, the words sat heavily on your tongue, reluctant to be spoken. How could you even begin to describe what had transpired in Wonderland? The way the air had seemed to still when the Hatter looked at you with those wild eyes, the hurt lurking behind his laughter? But after a moment, you sighed and decided to open up, knowing Alice would pester you otherwise.

“The Hatter…he told me to leave. He said I should return home. So, I did.”

Alice watched you carefully, her brow furrowed with concern. “But why would he say that?” she asked softly. She knew the Hatter was eccentric and unpredictable, but she had seen how he looked at you, how his eyes lit up whenever you were near.

You shook your head, frustration mixing with the ache in your chest. “I don’t know.” you admitted, though it wasn’t entirely true. “I think…I think he was afraid. Afraid I’d leave on my own someday, find something more important than him.” Your voice wavered, and you clenched your fists to steady yourself. “He wanted to push me away before I could do it to him.”

Alice remained silent for a moment, her expression softening as she pieced together what you weren’t saying. “So, you just left because he told you to?” she asked, not accusingly but with a kind of gentle reproach. “Without telling him how you felt?”

You looked down, guilt settling like a stone in your stomach. “I thought it was what he wanted.” you murmured. “I didn’t want to hurt him more by staying. But leaving…it felt wrong, too. It still does.”

Alice reached out, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “You men and your pride,” she said with a soft chuckle. “You’re both acting like fools. You know that, right?”

“What do you mean?”

She smiled, patient and knowing. “I mean that sometimes, people say things they don’t mean because they’re scared of being hurt. The Hatter’s a complicated man, but he’s not so different from anyone else in that way. You need to go back and talk to him. Really talk to him. Otherwise, you’ll never know what could’ve been.”

Her words struck a chord deep within you, resonating with the doubts and hopes that had been churning inside you since you left. She was right—you couldn’t leave things like this, with both of you hiding behind unspoken fears. You had to face it, face him, and figure out what you truly wanted.

Returning to Wonderland was like stepping back into a dream, one that you’d missed desperately in your time away. The colors were brighter, the sounds sharper, yet everything felt strangely muted by the tension in your chest. As you made your way back to the tea party clearing, you could feel your heart pounding harder with every step, a mix of anxiety and anticipation.

When you arrived, you found the Hatter sitting at his usual spot at the head of the long, cluttered table. He was hunched over, a hat perched lopsided on his head, his fingers busy stitching a ribbon that looked like it was fraying at the ends. His back was to you, but the moment he heard your footsteps crunching on the gravel, he stiffened ever so slightly.

“I didn’t expect you back so soon,” he said, his tone light and airy, but you could hear the strain in it—like a string pulled too tight. “Come to say a proper goodbye?”

You took a deep breath, stepping closer, feeling the weight of the conversation pressing down on your shoulders. “Yes, but I want to do it right. I don't want to leave with things unresolved between us."

The Hatter turned to face you slowly, his usual mad grin stretching across his face, but it was different this time. His eyes, usually bright and wild, were shadowed, clouded with something you couldn’t quite place. “Well then,” he said, forcing a laugh that sounded more like a broken sigh, “goodbye it is! Off you go, then! Don’t let the rabbit hole hit you on the way out!”

Without thinking, you reached out and pulled him into a hug. His body went rigid at first, as if he didn’t know how to react. You could feel his rapid breaths against your chest, hear the hitch in his throat as he struggled to keep up the façade. Then, slowly, he softened, his arms coming up to clutch at your back, holding you as if you were the only thing keeping him tethered to the ground.

“Why are you doing this?” he whispered, his voice cracking, caught somewhere between a sob and a laugh. “Why are you making this so hard?”

“Because I don’t want to leave you,” you confessed, your voice thick with emotion. “But I don’t know how to stay when I feel like I don’t belong here.”

The Hatter pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. “You do belong. To me, you do.”

His words pierced through you, breaking down the last of your defenses. You thought you had made up your mind to leave, to return to the real world where everything made sense, where things followed rules. But in that moment, nothing made sense without him.

You stepped back, letting go of him even though it hurt. “Goodbye, Hatter.” you said softly, turning away. “I’ll miss you.”

As you started up the path that would take you back home, every step felt like dragging a weight behind you. You reached the midway point, the fork in the path where one route would lead you back to reality. You paused, your heart aching with each second that passed. You glanced back, your breath catching in your throat when you saw him still standing there, watching you leave with a look of pure devastation.

You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t leave him like this.

Turning on your heel, you sprinted back down the path, the wind whipping against your face as you ran. You didn’t stop until you were right in front of him again. His eyes widened in shock, his lips parting to ask something, but you didn’t give him the chance. You cupped his face in your hands and kissed him, pouring all the emotion you’d been holding back into that kiss—your fear, your love, your need to stay.

When you finally pulled away, breathless, he stared at you, his eyes wide and searching. “You…you came back?”

“I did,” you said, smiling through the tears in your eyes. “If you’ll have me. I’m not going anywhere.”

For a moment, he looked as if he didn’t believe you, his gaze darting over your face as if trying to find some hint of doubt or hesitation. But then his lips slowly curved into a smile—a real, genuine smile that lit up his entire face. “Oh, yes. Yes, indeed! And we shall have tea every day, and perhaps cake, and perhaps something more delightful!”

You laughed, a lightness settling over you that you hadn’t felt in days. “Sounds like a plan.”

[kiame-sama]

The Hylian Zonai- (Yandere!Ganondorf x Reader)

Warnings; Based in Legend of Zelda: Tears of The Kingdom, only a few spoilers for 'past' characters and what they look like, Ruaru & Sonia & Ganondorf appear in this fic, divergent from primary ToTK plot, reader is fem bodied and pronouned, Reader is half-Zonai half-Hylian, yandere behavior, yandere temper, obsessive behavior, romantic yandere (Ganondorf), platonic yandere (Rauru), soft kidnapping,

"Hylian"

"Gerudo"

"Zonai"

~~~~~~~~

The sands rolled in a never ending storm that seemed to sweep over the vast landscape. Wind howled in mournful wails that seemed to only be amplified by the ever rolling sands. Even the village built to nestle within the sands seemed to be rather battered by the constant winds.

Not far from the village, near buildings meant as training grounds stood an imposing figure. His wild red hair seemed to whip around his face and accented his sharp features. He stood staring out into the rolling sand, eyes fixed on a truly pathetic sight.

Struggling in the sand was a newborn molduga. Though it was a monster in almost every regard, this one was just an infant and would be claimed by the sands in no time without the brood mother that bore it.

"Another beast soon to be felled by the very thing that gave it life."

"Should we intervene, my king?"

"No. The sands take as much as they give. The beast will nourish the sand with the blood in its veins."

The tall and well-built Gerudo woman nodded, knowing that going against the King of the Sands was suicide. Still, she felt pity for the whimpering pup that struggled blindly in the scorching and unforgiving land.

A movement among the rolling dunes near the pup caught their attention, sure it was a larger beast coming to claim an easy meal. However, a much smaller figure than expected emerged from the intense sands. They walked with purpose towards the whimpering pup and remained obscured beneath a cloak that shone white like exposed bone.

The molduga pup growled and tried to struggle away from the figure, barely getting any distance from the being before being easily overtaken by the stranger. Every snap of the small molduga's jaws seemed to do little to dissuade the being before the infant beast squealed in fear. It cringed away and tried to curl up in a futile effort to protect itself from what was no doubt about to end the little creature.

That end never came.

Instead, the figure rest a forgiving hand on the side of the pup, soothing the frightened newborn with a kind touch. The pup seemed calmed by the being, a faint yet sweet voice carried on the wind with clear sweet tones that put the young monster at peace. Far too distant to hear clearly, the voice seemed to have an effeminate pitch to it that interested the king.

After a moment's time a sudden music met the ears of the onlookers, the figure holding up a beautiful pan flute that sparkled in the sun. The sounds carried on the sand and echoed out in all directions, seemingly calling attention to itself.

Silence was what met the music at first before a deep rumbling gathered in strength and volume all around. It was the familiar sound of a molduga- an adult molduga- burrowing through the sand. The sound of the pan flute had attracted the attention of the nearest molduga and it now rushed to find the source, not wanting to pass by an opportunity for food.

The figure did not flee even as a spout of sand flew into the air due to the molduga breeching to take a breath. Even as the beast drew near, the figure remained by the side of the pup, standing so still the onlookers would have mistaken it as a statue had they not seen it move moments before.

When the adult molduga finally emerged from the sand to find the source of the sound, it reacted in an unusual way. The beast turned one small eye to examine the figure and the pup, carefully staring the two down. It then seemed to let out a deep rumbling purr, the molduga pup responding in kind to the sound as it nuzzled up to the adult. Despite all odds, it seemed the scarred and old molduga was the brood mother of the abandoned pup.

The pup was quick to climb into the open maw of the brood mother, taking shelter much like a crocodilian species would. It was clear both pup and brood mother were pleased to be reunited as the brood mother  purred to the figure. Just as quickly as the brood mother appeared, she burrowed back into the sand and began the long travel away from the figure.

The wind whipped around the figure, pulling back the light covering the figure wore to reveal the being underneath.

A shock of white furred ears lay back against the (h/c) skull of the figure, likely working to keep sand from entering the soft ears. The figure had the clear complexion of a Hylian despite the large Zonai ears which tucked back to reveal the typical Hylian pointed ears. The general figure of the being seemed to be Hylian and bore a peaceful smile as their eyes followed the path the brood mother molduga had taken.

"A Hylian? Here? Unacceptable! Shall I dispose of the intruder, my king?"

"No," the Gerudo King shook his head dismissively, "this is no ordinary Hylian. The Zonai King Rauru has a daughter, correct?"

"Yes, my King. Our sources indicate that the Zonai Rauru has a child and she has been absent from their kingdom on some kind of exploration journey."

"Excellent," the intimidating figure bore his teeth in a clear grin at the fortune smiling upon him, "if it cannot be dismantled from the outside with brute force, I will destroy the kingdom from the inside with wits."

The Gerudo King grinned and walked forward towards the odd Hylian-Zonai, noticing how one of the large furred ears angled back towards the sound of shifting sands under his feet. He debated cutting the woman down while her back was turned, but decided the princess would be of better use to him alive.

Before he could reach an arms-length away, she turned to face him. Her golden adornments clinked together and chimed with her movement as he finally got a full look at the unusual woman. Her facial features seemed almost tailor made as she observed the much taller Gerudo man, her (e/c) gaze examining him as the notable Zonai feature of a third eye stared unwaveringly at his imposing frame.

She had a feminine figure that accented her unusual appearance, the union of Hylian and Zonai attributes giving her a unique silhouette. He would be lying if he said he didn't find her beautiful and her mixture of features only seemed to accent that beauty. The silence stretched for a moment before one of her delicate eye brows lifted in question, snapping the Gerudo King out of his temporary stupor.

"You aren't from around here, clearly. Tell me, what is a woman such as yourself doing in a land so inhospitable?"

"Well," her two primary eyes narrowed, the one in the center of her forehead still wide and staring, "it is common courtesy to introduce ones self before questioning the intent of another, no?"

An odd thrill ran through him at the clearly clipped tone the woman used, feeling his lips try to pull into a grin. It was impressive to hear the polite yet firm tone the woman used as she stood unflinching before the man who dwarfed her in height.

"It is indeed. I am Ganondorf, King of the Gerudo."

"Then we are well met. I apologize for intruding on your lands, King Ganondorf. I am (Y/n), daughter of King Rauru and Queen Sonia, princess of Hyrule."

The intimidating king decided to have a more cordial approach to the lovely woman, lifting one of her noticeably smaller hands to his lips as he kissed the knuckles gently. His hand seemed to only be bigger in comparison as he noticed the rather soft feel of her skin. Though he was not often the kind to partake in such pleasantries, the Hylian-Zonai interested him.

"Tell me, Princess (Y/n), to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"

"I am on a pilgrimage of sorts to the neighboring lands of my father's kingdom. I wish to learn more of lands dissimilar from the kingdom I am accustomed to."

"I would be happy to tell you what I know of these lands. Of course, I must invite you to the city I call home for the sands are treacherous at the best of times. It would honor me if you would join me in a banquet this evening."

"The honor would be mine, King Ganondorf."

The large Gerudo king could feel the corners of his mouth curl into a toothy grin at the princess' easy acceptance of his invitation, knowing her royal upbringing would make her more likely to agree out of politeness. Though he intended to overthrow King Rauru and absorb the Hyrule Kingdom, that didn't mean he needed to harm the lovely princess. Perhaps he could even absorb Hyrule Kingdom through succession of the throne by wedding the princess.

He was of the belief that King Rauru would be unlikely to just offer (Y/n) in marriage given the strength Hyrule already had. There was no need to have a political marriage with another kingdom when there was an apparent standstill of strength in war between those kingdoms. In any case, it would behoove the Gerudo King to win over the trust of the princess before entering Hyrule to lure the King into a false sense of trust.

~~~~~~~~

The afternoon sun shone through the windows and dappled the halls of Hyrule Castle with the colors of stained glass. The group that kneeled before the two sitting on their thrones seemed almost out of place, none more so than the Gerudo King who seemed so large even in the grand halls. Next to the thrones stood a woman with fair skin and blond hair, eyeing the Gerudo man with great suspicion.

"Allow me to offer you my deepest apologies on behalf of the Gerudo for taking so long to accept your repeated invitation. It is our desire to be accepted into the protective embrace of your kingdom. To seve it faithfully."

Each word was carefully chosen and spoken clearly, seeming to be almost hissed out by the Gerudo man. Though the pair of royals saw through the almost exaggerated show of fealty, neither said anything against the king. Instead, the Zonai King Rauru spoke with a kind and welcoming tone.

"A welcome appeal, Ganondorf. I will accept your vow of fealty to the kingdom of Hyrule. I understand that a single male is born to the Gerudo every one hundred years.  Receiving such an appeal from you, a hero to his people and a king by birth... Well, it is truly reassuring."

"It is my honor. When your Zonai ancestors first descended upon these lands long, long ago, they must have seemed to be gods. And now you rule as king and have taken a Hyrulean woman as your wife. Your Majesty has certainly risen above your admirable lineage. Most impressive. It is unfortunate that the noble Zonai no longer grace this world with their presence... All except you, your sister, and that lovely daughter of yours, that is."

The comment about King Rauru's daughter caused a clear reaction from the royals and the woman at their side, all seeming uncomfortable at the mention of the kind woman. Sonia, the beautiful Hyrulean Queen, glanced at her King with an almost worried expression. They had been quite careful when it came to announcing the birth of their daughter, (Y/n) Princess of Hyrule. Beyond just the care they took, Rauru in particular was known to be quite fiercely protective of his daughter and mention of her put him on edge.

"I am afraid my daughter is out on pilgrimage at the moment and not present in the kingdom."

"On that, I have to disagree, King Rauru."

Before the Zonai King could ask just what it was Ganondorf was insinuating, the door at the far end of the hall opened with a loud sound. Walking in- flanked on either side with tall Gerudo women- was a familiar face that put the Zonai King's heart at rest for what felt like the first time in ages. Queen Sonia was thrilled and stood quickly to meet her daughter, Rauru standing as well to do the same.

"Mother, Father," (Y/n) practically cheered as she melted into the affectionate embrace of her parents, "I've missed you both so much..."

The woman standing at the side of the thrones seemed confused and surprised, as if she were unaware of the royals having a daughter. Though the interaction was going exactly as the Gerudo King had planned.

"Oh, my beautiful girl, how was your pilgrimage?"

"It was fantastic, Mother. The other lands around Hyrule have such differences and complexities to them. Better yet, I have learned so much about the other lands and creatures from those lands. I have so much to share with you both and show you."

The excited tone of their daughter almost completely distracted the King and Queen as it had been a few years since they last got to hold their offspring. It was as if everything else had fallen to the wayside in favor of putting all their attention onto their beloved child. So often Rauru had considered bringing his daughter home simply for his own peace of mind, but he was thrilled to have her back now.

He did not overlook the stare King Ganondorf had fixed upon his beloved child, however.

"I thank you for your show of fealty, Ganondorf. You may leave."

"Father," (Y/n) interrupted with a chiding tone and an unhappy frown, "he is king of a kingdom near to our own, and he is a guest here! We should show him the same hospitality and kindness he showed me when I first encountered the Gerudo."

"... You are right, (Y/n). There is no need to be so crass as to dismiss visiting royals, regardless of their allegiance and standing with Hyrule. We should have a feast tonight, to welcome these visitors from the sands."

Despite the warm tone he took, Rauru fixed the Gerudo King with a clear gaze of distrust. The stare was an obvious statement to the Gerudo man to keep his distance from Rauru's beloved daughter. But the way (Y/n) looked as she smiled back at the foreign King made the Zonai's blood boil with frustration as it was clear the princess had taken an obvious liking to the man.

Rauru would not give up his dear daughter so easily.

[separatist-apologist]

Something In The Orange

Summary: Someone is trying to murder Eris Vanserra's soon-to-be wife.

And no one can rule him out as a suspect

Note: Big thanks to @octobers-veryown for the mood board and the unknown anon for the song inspiration.

For @sjmromanceweek

Read On AO3

For the entirety of Arina’s life, she’d been destined to be the wife of a Vanserra. Lucien Vanserra to be specific. The ink on her marriage contract was dried before she herself was, likely still squalling in a midwife’s aching arms as her father lamented his poor fortune. Sons brought glory, daughters cost money. 

Arina might have been angry about her circumstances in a different life. In this one, though, Arina considered herself luckier than most other women she knew. Lucien was merely a year older than her—a seventh son, too, which meant he’d be sent off to some country estate, lord of the territory his father gave him. She would have no responsibility toward a vulnerable population nor would Arina ever be in danger of becoming queen.

After years of watching her father rule, a minor lord on the outskirts of the massive kingdom the Vanserra’s ruled, Arina thought that was a blessing. There was never enough gold to go around and what little money that could be scraped together, her father took in taxes. Arina felt shame every time she was paraded through the small city they lived in, dressed in finery while the people stared up, faces dirty, clothes threadbear. 

Beron Vanserra sent a chest of gold meant for Arina every year on her birthday. It was for her education and other frippery according to the notes—though in truth, Arina suspected it was a reminder that her father owed Beron. There was no backing out, no offering Arina up for better prospects.

There were no better prospects, to be fair. No one wanted the poor daughter of minor nobility nor did they want to inherit her fathers poor kingdom. Beron intended to subsume it into his own, allowing her family the rights to the land so long as they kissed the Vanserra ring. That was her fathers problem—not hers. Arina intended to waste her time drinking and dancing and whatever else the wives of Vanserras did.

Beron put the marriage off for a total three years past their original agreement. She should have married Lucien when she was eighteen—and yet Arina wasn’t officially called to the palace until the eve of her twenty-first birthday. Arina was instructed to come without a retinue. Only her father accompanied her, silent in the carriage as they rode. He didn’t need to speak to her in order for his will to be clear—if she did anything to mess this up, the consequences would be severe.

Deadly, even.

After all, Arina’s mother had not survived long enough to bring another child into her fathers world. No sons would save their family, leaving Arina to marry well and without complaint. She’d written to Lucien over the years and he’d written back. It was hardly some great love match but he seemed nice enough. Funny, when he wanted to be, and polite when he didn’t. Arina had decided long before now that she was satisfied with this man. 

Unlike her own home which seemed to be in a constant state of disrepair, the Vanserra palace was massive. Made of glittering gold and wild, old oak, the sprawling castle dripped with wealth. The city that surrounded it was just as opulent, though there was an aura of despair hanging in the air that tasted sickly sweet in Arina’s mouth. 

There was a clear and obvious divide between those with power and influence and those who did not. Arina had expected to see wealth equally which was perhaps naive. Beron had always seemed generous to her, sending gifts of gold and jewels on a whim. Why would his people fare any differently? 

That wasn’t her problem, she reminded herself. All Arina needed to do was fulfill her end of the contract, marry Lucien, and get on with things. Arina could simply turn her face from the fingerprint stained window and study the palace. It truly was beautiful, illuminated by warm shafts of spring light and framed just beyond by newly awakened trees crammed so tightly together it was impossible to tell where one ended and the next began. 

The palace itself was walled off, using both a gate that had to be opened for their carriage to pass through, and a bridge that caused the vehicle to lurch back and forth sickeningly. Beyond, Arina saw a white, ivory garden wall encircling at least the front of the palace, monitored by guards walking the length with sharp swords and a quiver of arrows against their backs. 

That didn’t keep people out—it merely kept them aware of the fate that would befall them should anyone decide to step out of line. As Arina disembarked, smoothing the wrinkles out of her rose pink skirts, her father was patted down for weapons. No one but the guards were allowed to be armed in the presence of the king, and Arina wondered if her father would get his sword back.

No one bothered to check her, which was lucky. They’d have found a small hunting knife tucked into her boot. 

Arina didn’t expect to need it—but it never hurt to be prepared. This was a new court with new men, and the ones back home were just handsy enough that Arina felt better with a knife. An old servant had taught her to use it—in exchange for a kiss she’d been all too happy to oblige him with—before her father sent him away. 

Arina was surprised by how busy the palace seemed to be. People moved around the drive, some making their way toward the front doors, open wide as butlers checked lists before allowing them through. Others, carrying heavy baskets covered in thin, white blankets, quickly walked around the palace toward some side door servants who were expected to enter and exit. There was an obvious and clear divide—neither groups looked at the other nor did they interact. It was as if neither was there.

A game of play-pretend, Arina supposed as she fell in step behind her father. Bowing her head ever so slightly, Arina clasped her hands in front of her body and began her own game of play-pretend. In this game, she was the obedient, demure daughter of her father and would become the obedient, demure wife of Lucien, too.

“This way, my lord,” a butler dressed in black with silver buttons, beckoned for her father to follow. What would her mother think of all this? Would she have been allowed to come, too? Arina barely remembered anything about the woman who had given her life—her mother had been sick more often than not, leaving Arina in the care of nurses and governesses. 

This was how her mother had been married, though. Back then their home had been worth something and her fathers name carried weight. He’d had the pick of the available ladies and had chosen her mother.

Arina had dared to ask him why, once. She was the most beautiful of the lot.

He’d said it so dismissively, like it ought to have been obvious to Arina. She knew she was too romantic—a dozen tutors had accused her of no less over the years. She knew her marriage was about practicality and not romance and still, over the years, she’d clung to those letters from Lucien and hoped that maybe there could be something between them. He seemed friendly enough. Nice, too, though of course she might have read too much into his careful, polite words.

Arina had been holding that hope for years, though. All of it was about to come to fruition as they stepped into a small study where Beron was waiting behind a glossy top wooden desk. Huge windows, framed with maroon, velvet curtains, allowed light to stream into the room.

Arina and her father bowed, though Arina found herself looking at the man leaned up against a bookcase with a sour expression on his face.

This wasn’t Lucien—she’d seen him a few times in her youth and what she remembered painted Lucien as a man with far darker skin similar to the shade of her own skin. His hair had always been long, his features softer. This man was fair skinned and tall, muscular like it was intentional versus the accidental effects of laborious work. His auburn hair was cut short, his eyes a cool, amber brown, his features sharp as though he’d been recently carved from marble. He was beautiful and cold in equal measure and Arina was grateful he wasn’t looking at her. 

“This is your daughter?” Beron asked, rising from his chair with gleaming brown eyes. There was no mistaking him and his son—they were so painfully related even if the other man’s features came from his mother, their expressions, their posture—that was all the same.

Cold men holding court. Arina took a small step backward without meaning to, instinctively looking for the door. This caught the younger man’s attention. His gaze flicked to her face, mouth sloping into a deep set frown. Why was he here? 

There was no escape. Arina’s father caught her wrist and thrust her forward like she was little more than a prized cow at auction. Beron looked her over dispassionately. 

“She looks just like her mother.”

Arina felt frozen right then, heart pounding in her chest. This wasn’t what she’d imagined. She’d pictured Lucien greeting her and spending the next month getting to know him outside the watchful eyes of their parents. Maybe she’d see the king once or twice as he arranged their little marriage and then sent them off. 

Not this. 

“Your letter said you wanted to discuss the terms of our original agreement?” her father said, taking the hand that had once been wrapped around her wrist to place it on her shoulder. At this, the younger man looked away again, his face unable to conceal his disgust. 

Beron sighed, turning his head toward the window for a moment. “My youngest son has been accused of compromising another lady of court.”

Oh no.

Beside Arina, her father became notably interested. His expression brightened, his posture just a little more rigid. This was good news, though for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out why. Beron noticed it, too, if his own darkened gaze was any indication. Something in the original contract had stipulated for this and whatever it was, it clearly benefited her father.

“When we put the original agreement together, we accounted for this,” Beron began smoothly, picking up a neatly folded document to hand to her father. 

“We did,” her father agreed, taking that document without reading it. “I assume you’ve come to make an offer.”

“My eldest son,” Beron replied easily, gesturing to the man still leaning against the bookcase. “Eris and I have spoken and he’s agreed to fulfill his brothers place.”

Her fathers shoulders slumped ever so slightly as Eris finally righted himself, looking not at Arina but directly at her father. “It would be my pleasure,” he said in a voice that betrayed how little of a pleasure it truly was. 

It wasn’t what her father wanted, though whatever it was he’d been hoping to gain, Arina wasn’t going to find out. Beron, aware he had her father boxed in a corner, offered a slick smile.

“Why don’t we go over the terms together? I think you’ll find I’ve been more than generous.”

“You always have been good to our family,” her father gritted out through a syrupy smile. 

“Eris, show Arina her accommodations while her father and I talk,” Beron said, waving them both out of the room as though they didn’t matter. Eris had clearly been told of this ahead of time and Arina wished someone would have warned her. Nodding, Eris stepped from the room without looking at her, his shoulders tight beneath the brown of his jacket. She had no choice but to follow after him, fingers curled to fists.

Eris slammed the door behind them loud enough to rattle a nearby picture in its frame. So he was angry, too. She doubted he felt any solidarity with her—she could imagine he saw her as the enemy which was just fine, because he fared no better in her estimation, either. 

“You,” Eris barked at a passing servant, beckoning them closer. “Show the lady her room.”

“Your father said—”

“I heard what my father said,” Eris snapped, interrupting Arina before she could get the rest of her indignant words out. “Unless you think my staff can’t be trusted?”

Oh, fuck him, she thought. “Charming,” she replied, holding his gaze. Eris stared back, waiting for her to back down. Arina ought to have. If he’d been anyone else she might have looked away, but this was about to be her future husband and she’d be damned if she let him think she was scared. 

Though, she was. Arina was terrified of him.

Eris took a step back when it was clear Arina was prepared to face off with him, inclining his head to the side for a moment as though to study her. “You won’t survive a week in this engagement.”

And with that, he turned on his polished boots and left her to the nervous, near trembling servant. She wasn’t going to chase him down, nor was she going to beg him. He could be mad at her all he liked. It wasn’t until she was being shown a rather large apartment that Arina considered what it meant to marry Eris Vanserra.

Gone were her hopes of an easy, simple life. Suddenly Arina felt the weight of expectation, of a life she’d never been prepared for. She’d be the wife of a king, with all the stipulations that came with that. No matter how cruel Eris was to her, Arina would have to put on a brave face and manage it. She had to have children with that man. Arina tried to picture what it would be like before she forced the image from her mind entirely. Perhaps he’d be quick—she’d heard men were more often than not. She could grit her teeth and get through it and perhaps, if she gave him a son, he’d find himself a mistress and leave her be.

Exile her to a country estate, even, where she could run her own household and have her own life outside of him. It wasn’t the great love she’d been hoping for but it was better than nothing. Better than seven sons, like his own mother had given Beron Vanserra. Two seemed like enough. What Arina needed was a plan. 

Staring at the sitting room of the apartment she’d been given, Arina decided right then and there she would make the best of things. It wasn’t what she’d wanted, but it was still an escape from the misery of life with just her father. No more emboldened courtiers pawing at her, no more of her fathers advisors leering and touching when they thought he wasn’t looking. No more being screamed at—at least, by her father. Who knew what kind of tactics Eris might employ? 

Separate bedchambers. 

Separate lives. 

She’d smile and placate him, lulling him into a false sense of security and maybe he’d drop his attitude in favor of apathy. Starting with the dinner she was expected to attend. She’d show him right then and there he didn’t need to concern himself with her at all. Then she could try and make a friend at court who could show her around and help her acclimate herself. 

Arina was practically vibrating when she was summoned. She’d changed from pink to a robins egg blue that was entirely modest, from the high neckline to the long sleeves and she’d pinned her thick, long hair up off her face with little pearl pins that matched the ones dangling from her ears. 

She looked pretty and she knew it, just like Arina knew that men valued that above all else. When their own children asked Eris why he’d married her, he could tell them she’d been the prettiest woman he’d ever seen and it would be true enough. Maybe her children wouldn’t mind as much. 

Eris was waiting in the small dining room when Arina was shown in and to his credit, he rose from his chair the way a gentleman ought to. 

“Here,” he said, pushing out her chair with his foot. Arina forced herself to smile at him, smoothing her skirts beneath her as she sat. It was only once she was seated that Eris joined her, angled away as he fiddled with his glass of wine. Was he drunk? His cheeks were slightly flushed, his eyes bright but otherwise he had that same arrogant sneer on his face.

“You look nice,” Arina lied. He looked fine in the same jacket he’d been wearing when they met. 

Eris scoffed before downing the remnants of his cup.

“There’s no need to lie, lady.”

“Fine. You look miserable without the manners to even try and conceal it,” she heard herself saying, her good plan crumbling before her eyes. With raised brows, Eris looked over at her.

“Would you like to try that one again, my lady?”

“I was told I’d be marrying your brother,” she hissed, aware there were servants in the room and that gossip spread quickly. 

“A fate I’ve so graciously spared you from. Where is your gratitude?” Eris replied dryly. 

“Your brother seemed kind–”

“You would have been bored by the end of the month,” Eris snapped, clearly tired. “I thought all women dreamed of being princesses?”

Arina didn’t know what to say to that so she picked at the little beads on her dress if only to have something to do with her hands. 

“Well. Your father is certainly pleased,” Eris added seconds before the door opened. His goblet was refilled as her father, Beron, and a retinue of men she didn’t know or recognize strolled in. Their chatter was enough to drown out any remaining conversation between Eris and Arina which could only be a good thing. It was clearly too early to hope they might get along, and Arina needed to figure out a way to leash her temper before it got the better of her.

Again.

Arina was used to being treated as decoration. And as her father sat without acknowledging her—as Beron pulled Eris into a conversation with some of the other courtiers—Arina was left to sit there silently and eat politely. They were all covertly watching her, judging every movement, every whispered sigh, every scrape of her utensils. What would happen if they found her wanting?

She didn’t want to learn the answer to that question so Arina kept a pleasant smile pasted to her face just like she’d learned to do back home. With each new course, Arina made a delicate show of eating only a third of whatever was served to her which clearly pleased some of the older men at the table. She passed on wine in favor of water and whenever a compliment was paid to her, she made a show of dropping her gaze and thanking them demurely. 

Eris seemed to recognize her theatrics for what they were, smirking into his goblet each time she did it like there was nothing funnier to him. Arina had half a mind to kick him—and she might have, too—had something warm not begun crawling up her throat. 

She looked down at the bowl of potato soup in front of her, strangely fascinated as it warped from one porcelain bowl into two, to three, and back to a singular entity. The heat intensified, causing Arina to gasp for air. She didn’t know what possessed her, but she reached for Eris’s leg, digging her nails into the fabric of his trousers as she tried to get a grip on reality.

Something was wrong. 

She couldn’t breathe.

Arina blinked, intending to take a slow, controlled breath of air and then excuse herself. When she opened her eyes, however, she found herself laying on the floor staring upward into a pair of disinterested amber eyes. The commotion around her seemed to suggest someone was concerned—her father, maybe?

But right then, all Arina could see was the icy, bored expression of her soon-to-be husband.

And she was certain this was all his fault.

ERIS:

“What do you expect me to do about this?” Eris demanded furiously, staring at his father. He needed to get his temper in check before Beron punished him and yet Eris couldn’t help his aggrieved feelings. “If she’s so desperate to escape this marriage, let her.”

“And pay her bastard father to run his kingdom into the ground for another fifty years?”

“Why would you ever add that to a marriage contract?” Eris heard himself asking, furious that Lucien’s little dalliance with one of the Archeron’s had led him to this position. Arina was probably perfectly nice—she was certainly beautiful—and he didn’t want her. Didn’t want any wife his father picked out for him and had done a good job running them off. 

“I had seven worthless sons by then—all of whom would need wives. If not Lucien, someone else.”

“Then let Tanwen—”

“I’ll not hear another complaint from you,” Beron barked out, eyes flashing a warning. Eris forced himself to swallow his anger, to take a breath and let it go for the moment. It was clear his father wanted this to happen and his fathers will was an extension of his own. 

“She’s alive,” Beron continued, as if Eris cared about that. It was cruel, but when Eris had seen her convulsing on the ground all he’d felt was relief. She’d die and he’d be free of her, along with the entire marriage he didn’t want. “I want to know who's responsible for this and I want them punished. Quietly.”

“Consider it done.”

“Check in on your mother. She’d distraught,” Beron added by way of dismissal. 

Of course she would be. The mere words were enough to force some sympathy into Eris’s otherwise emotionless chest. Arina was merely a casualty in his fathers obsession with expansion. It should have been Lucien who arranged this deal, leaving Eris to ally with a princess who had, if nothing else, been born with the correct expectations. He’d been set on Nesta Archeron before Lucien went and mucked the whole thing up with the middle sister. Who knew Elain was her father’s favorite and he’d take it personally if a foreign born princess undressed his precious daughter?

Lucien had sworn he’d done nothing inappropriate but what was done was done. Lucien was getting a second born princess but nothing more—there would be no exchange of territory and a very loose agreement that constituted an alliance. 

And Eris was getting some rural, minor lords daughter that someone hated enough to want dead. Find out who it was, it could have been anyone. The arrangement was not popular at court and Eris considered it could be any number of lords who felt their daughters had been snubbed for Arina.

Would his father execute one of his favored courtiers? All for one woman they’d made a bad deal with? Her father must be delighted, Eris thought, to realize what had once been a decent marriage would now elevate him into the father-in-law to a king. He’d be given titles and wealth far beyond what he currently already possessed.

Eris felt his feelings harden toward Arina again. 

He found his mother in her private apartment, wringing her hands with tear stained cheeks. “Oh, Eris,” she breathed, wrongly assuming he must be upset over what he witnessed. Eris opened his arms to her all the same, pulling his crying mother against his chest. She cared, which made her far better than him in every measure that mattered. Too good for the Vanserra’s in general, though no one would dare say so. 

“Is she alright?” 

“I assume so,” Eris replied, earning himself a swat. It wasn’t hard enough to hurt nor was it malicious. His mother looked up at him with disappointment as Eris walled himself up to keep himself from internalizing her words.

“You haven’t gone to check?”

“I met her this afternoon and it didn’t go well,” he replied, following his mother to a little two seater couch facing the fireplace. “I think I can wait until tomorrow to offer my sympathies.”

“She seems like a nice girl,” his mother sniffed, dabbing her eyes on a handkerchief Eris had produced from his jacket pocket.

Nice wasn’t how he’d describe Arina. He had the sense she was more than the doe-eyed thing he’d witnessed at dinner, if her little snappish comments were anything to go on. 

“Did you know father would have to subsidize her fathers territory if she didn’t marry into our family?” Eris asked, already knowing the answer. Of course she didn’t—Beron didn’t tell his wife anything. 

“I know you’re upset about losing Nesta,” his mother began, misunderstanding what bothered Eris so much. Everyone kept assuming it was a love match between them rather than a practical understanding of the power they might wield together. Nesta had understood it, had even agreed right up until Lucien was caught with Elain. “But would it be so terrible to readjust your expectations, Eris?”

Yes, it would be. Without Nesta, Eris was still trapped under his fathers thumb and now responsible with keeping Arina from becoming trapped as well. There would be no money, no army, no powerful woman with a kingdom of her own to stand behind him should he fail. Just another powerless girl shoved at him and unlike the last one, Eris couldn’t send her back.

“Your projecting,” Eris replied. “You are nothing like her.”

“I remember how I felt when I was brought here. My own father was pretty quick to leave just as soon as our marriage license dried and I was on my own. You know how…busy…your father is. You could try to make her feel welcome.”

“You managed just fine,” Eris said, though as the words left his mouth he felt instant regret. His father was brutally cruel to his mother when the mood struck him, swinging between open devotion and clandestine violence seemingly on a whim. His mother had managed in spite of his father and he knew he’d just inadvertently told his mother none of it was a big deal. “I’ll talk to her.”

It was a compromise to wipe the look of hurt from his mothers face. She was the only woman Eris had ever loved and as far as he was concerned, the only woman he’d ever love. He wasn’t interested in caring for someone the way his father cared about his mother. It made him obsessive, controlling, and at times, violent. Eris didn’t want to lose himself that way and was terrified that it was in his nature to love someone that way. Not that he’d ever admit it—but it was useful information to know about himself.

Eris didn’t visit Arina until the next morning, busying himself at night with his favorite distraction: too much whiskey and Lady [whoever]. He wasn’t married yet, and Eris had never promised Arina anything, least of all his fidelity. Eris found her sitting in a window, knees hidden beneath a pale yellow dress. 

Eris had seen a lot of women in his life. More women than most men if he was being honest with himself. Since he’d come of age, women had thrown themselves at him and he’d allowed it, delighting in the attention and the ease with which he could get someone into his bed. And in the course of his dallying, he’d seen countless noble women with their hair unbound. 

And yet something happened when Arina turned her wan face to look at him. Her hair was long and thick, draped nearly to her waist as it fell in soft, brushed out waves. He might not have given it a second thought had she not turned her head just in that moment, allowing a rather bright beam of light illuminate the golden strands and warm her otherwise wan face.

Gods, but Arina was the most beautiful woman currently at court. Maybe in the world—Eris couldn’t remember seeing anyone more lovely even when they were as sad as she currently was. Eris found himself at a loss for words which Arina chose to interpret as mocking.

“Do you need something, prince?”

“I…” 

She turned her head away from him, rolling her eyes as she did. That was enough to remind Eris that she was merely a woman and not one he particularly cared about. Sexual attraction would help, if nothing else. “You’re well?” he asked, grateful to hear the sneer had returned to his words.

“No thanks to you.”

Eris pushed off the door frame he’d been leaned again, stepping into the airy, soft room she’d been given. It was fit for a princess and he wondered how it compared to her rooms back home. He’d heard stories that the estate was dilapidated, its staffing sparse. What it had was a good defensive position given its rocky landscape and the river that choked off other invasion points, forcing any army coming over land to take one specific path forward which made it easily picked off. 

Or, so his father said. Eris had never seen it, had never had any desire to. He’d been offered, but back then Arina was Lucien’s fiance and Eris had opted not to join in favor of remaining at home. What a waste given his current circumstances. Eris would have liked to have known exactly how to lord his wealth and power over his new wife, if only to keep her from snapping at him.

“Did you imagine me a physician?” Eris asked with some amusement. 

“I imagined you as someone with manners,” Arina shot back, drawing her knees closer to her chest. “Not the sort of coward who would delight in watching his betrothed die before his very eyes.”

“What did you say?” he asked, more taken aback than angry. No one had ever spoken to him that way. 

She didn’t even look at him. “I said you’re a coward and you were hoping I’d die. And I didn’t say this next part, but I don’t want to be married to you, either. I’ve heard stories about you.”

Eris’s heart thudded in his chest. “What kind of stories?”

“How you left a woman to die in your forest rather than marry her. That you’re capable of that kind of cruelty.”

Ah, Morrigan. How he’d never live that accusation down. Eris hadn’t bothered to try and had no intention of explaining the circumstances to Arina given what she was covertly accusing him of. She thought he’d tried to kill her?

Eris wanted to put that accusation to rest. “If I wanted you dead, princess, you’d be dead.”

He watched her press her lips together, saw how those mossy green eyes hardened with hatred. His mother was going to kill him the moment she got Arina alone and learned about this. 

“Then you should know if I wanted you dead, you would be dead.”

She shrugged her slim shoulders. “It sounds to me like you aren’t particularly skilled in that arena.”

“Are you daring me?” Eris asked incredulously. 

“Merely making an observation,” she replied, turning to look at him again. Eris found he preferred when she didn’t given how beautiful her face was and how stupid it made him. If she’d just pull her hair up, Eris could treat her like every other entitled noblewoman—just like he had yesterday.

Though, had he really looked at her? Eris had been drunk for most of the day. Maybe he simply hadn’t noticed what was now staring back at him. His wife was beautiful and the part of him that coveted such things liked that.

Not wife. Almost wife. 

“I came to see how you were doing,” Eris snapped, irritated with her and himself. 

“Your father came last night,” Arina replied, some of the spark leaving her eyes. 

“My father?” he asked, eyes scanning her form quickly. 

“To offer a sincere apology for the attack,” she said, hands twisting nervously in her lap. “And assure me you’d get to the bottom of it.”

“And I will,” Eris lied. For all he knew she’d merely had an allergic reaction to some new ingredient or the poison had been meant for him and not her. Eris very much doubted someone would be foolish enough to try again. 

“Yet here you are,” she dismissed, turning back to the window. Eris curled his fingers into fists to resist the urge to throttle her into obedience. His father had assured him Arina was the model of female piety, not the sharp-tongued creature he was currently looking at. 

“People clamor for my company at court, you know,” Eris said, unsure why he was bothering.

She smothered a smile. “Go bother them, then.”

“Maybe I will,” he bit back, annoyed.

“Good.”

“Fine.”

Arina merely waved him off, leaving Eris outraged as he stomped out of her room. He had half a mind to go complain to her father, if only to bring Arina into line. And then what, he wondered? Would she like him more or would it make her hate him more than she already did? Eris considered if he cared for just a moment.

And decided that he did care.

And he’d take her as she was.

[katz-chow]

deranged reader my beloved, my daughter, me. back again in the spools of my brain.

warnings: exactly what the title is. fem! reader, pwp, blood, gore, manipulation (?), toxic reader (?), reverse harem w/ soap & ghost eventually the others, pnv, fingering, overstim (fem)

🏷️ | @warenai @reese-is-right

part 1

you came from a normal life before joining the military. your parents love you and so does your younger brother, he's a pain in the ass but aren't all siblings? cookie cutter houses lines the suburban streets, grasses cut, and christmas decorations find themselves on the houses as soon as december hits, no sooner to avoid hoa fines.

It's actually silly how you turned out this way, a small malicious brain in a body of a well cared for girl. in many ways it was like taming a wild animal; your nails were manicured on the regular, hair neat and put together, strands never where you hadn't meant for it to be, and your uniform was pristine, never stained, never wrinkled. on the outside, you truly where just the sweetest young lady that was meant to sing christmas carols at nursing homes and gain pinches on your cheeks as tips.

but you can't fully tame a wild animal though. in many cases, tigers eat their owners, monkeys maul them, and raccoons abandon home after trashing it. you, were simple. you don't bare your teeth to your owners or unsheathe your claws, you pin them. you pin them in a way that artists pin beetles and butterflies, perfect and spayed out for display and enjoyment.

and that's what you did to the 141. you made them yours. it came easy, natural- almost instinctive. everyone wants to be liked, right? so what if you're extra, extra good at that? you're just charming!

it started with soap. he was an easy target knowing how friendly he is. after finding out he's a demolitions expert, you stepped in asking him rather complex questions on the molecular composition of the explosives he found himself building. and he gladly explained it to you, not having a lot of people who know chemistry on such a level outside of an academic space.

the two of you spend lunches together relating his chemistry knowledge to your biology knowledge as an ex-medic. together you were Biochemistry, what a bunch of nerdy POS'.

quickly that lead to more chemistry in the comfort of your bed as well, having the two of you wrapped up in the sheets as he fucked you hard and fast, his name spilling out of your lips like an echo in the void that is your thoughts.

his dick rammed into, your ankles on his shoulders and his grip on the back of your knees as he bends you in half.

after that night, it became many more. soap was now just johnny. the two of you shared loving glances and plenty of playful touches, a slap on each other's ass when the other passed by, a ruffle of hair, and arms wrapped around the other's waist, cheek to the muscle of their back.

ghost, observant as ever, found this quite aggravating as he thought you were his to hold. while you and johnny fumbled with carbons and phosphorus, ghost had picked up more paperwork than normal, training more recruits than he normally would, just to go and ask you for help. which, being the nice person you were, happily agreed to help him empty his plate.

silence filled the air besides the occasional sound of paper shifting and being flipped, or tossed to the side. some pens scribbling on the paper and against the hardness of the wood also found its way into the comfortable silence and the absence of words. ghost's eyes dashed up to look at you, chewing on the flesh of your lip as you focus on the paperwork that he had asked for your help on. he sees the blankness of your face, how nothing else seems to move or show any signs of emotion besides the gnawing of your teeth.

he quirked an eyebrow at this, how unusual you are...how fascinating. almost as if in a trance, a stupor, a daze as your aura pulls him onto his feet and over to you. he hovers over you, only your wooden desk in between.

"you and soap..." he started and as quickly as the daze came, it left him to fumble for the right words. you look up at him, the same bored expression on your face before you wide your eyes just a tiny bit in surprise and realization.

your head tilts to the side, deciding on letting him grumble with his own choked words. and he, in fear of such situation, opted to shut his mouth and walk back to his desk, picking up from what he left off.

a giggle escapes your mouth, "you can ask him." you say playfully, going back to your own sentence to write and finish up.

the two of them were a pair, always have been- and easy to hook both with the same, sweet bait of your kindness. sooner or later, you got what you wanted, two playful dogs that tend to your every need, whether to pick up some food for you, run to your room to get a file you forgot, knock someone's teeth out for your collection, or to pull orgasm after orgasm out of you until you’re a panting mess. that last one was your favorite.

you sat in simon's lap, knee bent with your leg thrown over it, spreading and keeping your thighs from closing. johnny's fingers thrust into your sweet heat as your sharp nails continue to dig into the back of simon's hand, holding onto the flesh of your waist tightly. behind you, you could feel simon's dick twitched as more of your slick dribble down onto his own trousers. his hot breathe against your ear grounded you just a bit as johnny's thumb grazed over your swollen clit. "that's it lovie...one more for us yeah?" johnny snickers from his place, crouched right in front of your pussy, all wet and puffy from the many orgasms that the two of them have taken from you. you whined as he continue to tease you, fingers languidly pulling in and out of your cunt as his thumb swipes over the top edge of your bud. you cry out. even his feather-light touches on your wet clit draws you closer to the edge until your mind goes numb, your pleasure boiling over the edge once again. your body convulses as simon's grasp on you tighten. "good girl, come on now. i kent you could do it..." johnny praises as his fingers pumps in and out of you quicker, pulling every last drop of your pleasure into his palm.

now two of them were playful with you, you were theirs and they knew how to share. their sweet little play thing that was always too good to them, so obedient.

simon now wishes that you were as obedient in the field as you were in bed as he sweeps through the building in search of you. he curses to himself for letting you slip past his field of vision and his attention, going off on your own with a simple "be right back".

he believed it but that was almost an hour ago, and this building is not big. however, the concrete walls and fluorescent lights rendered this place a labyrinth. rifle in his hand, held close and alert, he quickly tip toes up the stairs, observing the twisting quiet hallways, its greenish lights making him feel sick.

he continued on, careful in the thickness of the silence, making his heart thunder and his steps heavy, like forcing through gelatinous air. a wail rung through the concrete walls, not yours, but a shriek of agony, the only sound being made in the longest minutes in his life.

he jogged on, gun tight in his grip, ready to shoot the poor bastard that stood in between his darling and him.

your voice got louder as he got closer, he turned the corner, meeting you and a man in an empty room, door swung open. the man knelt on your feet in front of you. crimson pipes and frayed pieces of his bicep dripped down thick, molten blood onto a pile of rumble from the collapsed wall. simon froze, his own blood flowed thunderously in his ears as he felt his chest shook.

your face showed the same picture as it did when he made you take over his paperwork all those weeks ago. a plain, empty, broken face stared back down at the man on his knees. he mumbles something in russian quickly, petrified in his spot as you held the saw onto the top of his head. his pleas faded into nothing as his voice grew raw from overuse. a simple, broken, "please" breathed out of his exhausted lungs.

simon saw the way his unsteady back raised as he took a quick breath and how it shakily exited his body. blood continued to drip from his exposed bone and muscle. the man's body swayed, weakened from the lack of such plasma flowing through him. a man on the brink of death didn't scare simon, he has been where you are now. he has seen death like an old friend from school, bumping into it every so often.

the dread that filled his body and weighed on his shoulders was your reaction- or lack thereof. you didn't care about his pleas, or how the light in his dull eyes extinguished from tight-lining in between life and death. you didn't care that his arm was discarded behind you. you didn't care about the severed arm, laying in a dark pool, drenched in blackness, just a foot away from your backside. you didn't care.

the man's hand grabs onto your leg, begging, pleading for mercy, even as death was eager to take him. simon sees his breathing becoming staggered, shallow, knowing death is standing over your shoulder, staring on, waiting for you to make the final blow, to end his life.

but you don't. a satiated hum of approval rumbled out of your throat as you dug the jagged blade of the hand saw into his skull. the man pulled from the well of his energy, enough to let out a sluggish, hoarse sob. he bent over more, trying to escape the digging of the steel into his scalp, failing.

you pull back the blade, making you cut deeper and the man choked on his anguished cries. satisfied, you yanked the blade out, leaving the man to hiccup one last plea as you kicked him off your leg. he falls to the ground on his side, his chest rising ever so slightly. you step over him, throwing the saw to the other side of the room, it's weight hits the concrete with a 'thump'. simon doesn't speak, and neither do you. he walks behind you, rifle still drawn. and you know why.

[vilevenom]

Suddenly Everything Has Changed

(Sequel to Let's Be Us Again)

Fandom: Dreamworks Trolls

Pairings: Hickory/John Dory

Summary:  John Dory felt like he was on cloud nine. Hickory was back in his life, and he was getting along better with his brothers (more or less). Everything seemed to be looking up for him for once. But, of course, that couldn't last forever, could it?

Excerpt:

"I really should get up, sweetheart," John finally murmured after a while, lightly tugging at a lock of Hickory's hair, "Clay is supposed to be showing up in the next couple of days with the last of the Putt Putt trolls, and I promised Poppy I'd help with putting together some 'welcome back to society' scrapbooks for them."

"Nein, du fühlst dich wohl," Hickory whined, clutching at John's side and burying his face into the teal trolls chest fur.

John snorted and rolled his eyes, fully not understanding what Hickory was saying, but he could appreciate the gist of it. He truly did love this time in the morning, when Hickory was too tired to even bother trying to use the country accent he'd picked up in Lonesome Flats and babbled at John in German. It was his favorite part of the couple of weeks Hickory had been staying with him so far, as it reminded him of when they'd first started dating up in the mountains.

AO3 Link is here!

The day began like most others had for the last year or so of John Dory's life. The sun was shining and birds chirping outside his window, but this morning had something so extraordinary in it that John could barely believe his good fortune. When he rolled onto his side he was greeted with the view of a green and orange troll slumbering on his second pillow, as he had for the last two weeks. He couldn't contain the warm and giddy smile that inched across his face as he took in Hickory's sleeping features. The way his curly hair turned even more wild against the pillow, and his fingers twitched against the blanket as he dreamed. John felt like he was still dreaming, since he never thought he'd be so lucky as to have Hickory in his life again, let alone in his bed. He reached out to brush a wild lock of hair from Hickory's forehead, holding back a laugh as the country troll snuffled quietly in his sleep and pushed his face further into his pillow.

"Good morning," John breathed, fully intent on getting out of bed as carefully as possible so Hickory could continue sleeping. That plan, however, was quickly squashed as a hand curled around his neck and tugged him down.

"Guten Morgen[1]," Hickory muttered, blinking muzzily at John Dory with a dopey smile on his face. "wie hast du geschlafen[2]?"

John chuckled, ghosting his fingers lightly over Hickory's jaw, earning a slight shiver from the country troll. "You know I don't understand your native language, Hick."

"Schade[3]," Hickory murmured, pressing a sleepy kiss to John's lips, before curling into his chest, "Für Englisch ist es noch zu früh[4]."

"Whatever you say," John chuckled, easily resigning himself to a late start to his day as he lazily carded his fingers though Hickory's hair. 

Shortly after their tearful reunion, Hickory had returned to Lonesome Flats to clear up his affairs and pack up his belongings. It had taken a surprisingly longer time than anticipated, given he'd had to find a replacement for his job in the caravan, and find someone who wanted to take over the house and tiny patch of land he'd gotten himself in the country. All in all, it had been a long two months for the couple, but finally the ex bounty hunter was free and clear to move to Pop Village. Or, at the very least, into Rhonda for the time being. It was very much still up in the air if Hickory wanted to have a pod built for himself, if they were going to have a pod build for the both of them, or if they were going to take some time to go travelling the kingdom before settling anywhere. The world was their oyster, and they were planning on making the most of it.

"I really should get up, sweetheart," John finally murmured after a while, lightly tugging at a lock of Hickory's hair, "Clay is supposed to be showing up in the next couple of days with the last of the Putt Putt trolls, and I promised Poppy I'd help with putting together some 'welcome back to society' scrapbooks for them."

"Nein, du fühlst dich wohl[5]," Hickory whined, clutching at John's side and burying his face into the teal trolls chest fur.

John snorted and rolled his eyes, fully not understanding what Hickory was saying, but he could appreciate the gist of it. He truly did love this time in the morning, when Hickory was too tired to even bother trying to use the country accent he'd picked up in Lonesome Flats and babbled at John in German. It was his favorite part of the couple of weeks Hickory had been staying with him so far, as it reminded him of when they'd first started dating up in the mountains. Hickory had tried teaching John how to speak German at the time, but he had failed rather spectacularly. "I can only assume you want me to stay in bed, but I've got things to do," John sighed, smacking a wet kiss to Hickory's forehead, which pulled a grunt of disdain from the country troll. "If you don't want more wet kisses, get off me."

"Heidnisch[6]," Hickory grunted as he rolled off of John, only to tug their blankets up over his head and burrow into the bed.

John shook his head fondly as he pulled himself free of the blankets, patting what he assumed was Hickory's ankle as he shuffled around the bed to head into the bathroom to take a shower. "I'm gonna roll you out of bed in a blanket burrito if you're not up by the time I'm done in the shower. If I recall correctly, /someone/ told Sky Toronto that they'd help look over and improve night time security protocols at the factory today."

A string of muffled german erupted from the pile of blankets on the bed, causing John to laugh as he slipped into the bathroom. He let out a breath as he turned to the mirror, grinning as he poked his reflection, "You are one lucky troll, John Dory." He hummed to himself while stretching his arms above his head, before reaching into the shower to turn the water on. As he yawned and waited for the water to warm up he combed his fingers through his hair absently, dislodging tangles that had formed while he was sleeping. He fully expected the odd knot here and there, but not for his fingers to hit something solid near the crown of his head. "What...?" he frowned as he poked around in his hair some more, his fingers tracing along a smooth, curved surface. His eyes widened as a thought occurred to him and his heart froze in his chest. "No...no, that's not possible," he muttered quickly to himself, looking back to the mirror while hastily parting his hair. He gaped at the tiny egg he'd revealed, barely large enough to be more than a week old.

"How?" he wheezed, letting go of his hair to latch onto the sink and dry heave. "This can't be happening..." He and Hickory had gotten back together barely three months ago, and two of those were spent apart while Hickory was in Lonesome Flats. That meant that in the two weeks that Hickory had been back in Pop Village, John had somehow developed an egg. He and Hickory hadn't even decided if they wanted to live together properly, and now he had an egg?! It was too soon. Way too soon. Conversations needed to be had, plans needed to made! This couldn't be happening. What was Hickory going to say?

"You almost done in there, darlin'? I'm gonna start makin' us some breakfast," Hickory's sleepy voice filtered through the door, jarring John from his spiraling thoughts.

"Y-yeah! Sorry, just taking my time. Didn't know if you'd actually get out of bed. I'll be out soon," John answered quickly, shaking himself slightly and stripping off his pajamas to actually get into the shower. He could panic about the egg later. First he had to get ready and go meet up with Poppy to keep up appearances. Then he could take some time for himself and figure out what the hell he was going to do.

~

After a rather awkward breakfast, where John tried to eat as quickly as possible and was too distracted to pay much attention to the conversation Hickory was trying to engage him in, John left to head to Poppy's pod. She had asked John and a couple of her friends to meet her there to work on the scrap books she and Branch had come up with to help integrate the Putt Putt trolls into Pop Village. A good portion of the Putt Putt trolls had already moved into the village, but many were having some issues getting used to being around so many trolls again, and the last group was by far the largest. Thus, the scrap book idea had come about when Branch pointed out that some sort of guide would probably be beneficial to hand out so there wouldn't be so many trolls constantly going to Poppy and Viva for help or advice. John was insanely proud of his brother for helping to come up with such an initiative and had immediately volunteered to help put the books together. He was now wishing he'd kept his stupid mouth shut so he could go hide in a tree and figure his situation out, rather than putting on appearances for the queen and her friends.

"John Dory!" Poppy cheered as he walked up to the open door of her pod, jumping to her feet to dash over and engulf him in a hug. "Thanks so much for offering to help! The rest of the Putt Putt trolls are supposed to be showing up in the next couple of days, so all the help we can get is super appreciated!"

John returned the hug, chuckling fondly at Poppy's exuberance. "Anytime, Popstar," he said, patting her on the back. "But, uh, y'know it'd be helpful if you let me go so I can actually help?"

"Huh? Oh!" Poppy laughed as she let John go, waving a hand through the air, "Sorry. I always forget how much you and Branch are alike, with your short hugs." John wasn't sure if he should take that as a compliment or not, but decided to let it go as he wandered further into Poppy's pod, noting that none of her friends had apparently shown up yet. He nodded a greeting to Branch, who was sat cross legged on the floor, scissors and paper already in hand with glitter smeared over the bridge of his nose. It immediately reminded John of when Branch was still a toddler, working on birthday cards for his older brothers. He grinned widely, earning a raised eyebrow from his youngest brother.

"You just reminded me of when you were this big," John replied to the silent question, indicating a very small size between his hands, "You were so cute back then. Whatever happened?" John had said it in a joking fashion, and it would've been an easy laugh between John and any of his other brothers. But Branch immediately glared at him.

"Being alone for twenty years will do that to a person," Branch stated bluntly. Poppy jumped to step between the brothers with a nervous laugh while John put his hands up in surrender, immediately stepping back. 

"Right, sorry. That was a bad joke," John quickly admitted. He shuffled his feet awkwardly, clearing his throat as he scooped up a small stack of construction paper and made his way to the other side of the room. "I'll just, uhm, sit over here, yeah?"

John Dory tried not to pay attention as Poppy and Branch had a whispered conversation across from him, the later letting out a long breath after a moment, before getting up from the floor. Branch stood for a moment looking uncomfortable, before he scowled and stomped across the pod to where John had sat himself. The teal troll looked up at his baby brother in trepidation, fully expecting to get snapped at for his thoughtless comment. Instead, Branch stared down at him for a long minute, then flopped down onto the floor next to him. "I know you didn't mean anything by it," Branch muttered, his face slowly relaxing from his scowl as he stared at the floor, "I'm sorry for snapping at you."

John blinked, more than a little surprised that he wasn't told to just leave. "Hey," he finally said after a beat, an easy grin plastering itself on his face, "No harm, no foul. I should think more before I speak."

Branch turned his head to look at John, a thoughtful expression on his face, before he let out a breath. He let his shoulders slump and suddenly tipped sideways to rest against John's side. The teal troll jumped a little as his baby brother bumped into him, a pleased little thrill running through him as Branch's head settled on his shoulder. "You're trying your best, and that's all anyone can ask for," Branch said, glancing over to Poppy who gave him a thumbs up, "I'm glad you showed up today."

Tears immediately welled up in John's eyes at Branch's admittance to being happy to see him, even if it was prompted by Poppy. "Aww, Bitty B," John hiccupped quietly, causing Branch to immediately sit up and look alarmed as John sniffled. "Sorry," he waved a hand through the air, wiping at his eyes and chuckling, "You just caught me off guard, is all."

"I fully expect Floyd to cry like this," Branch said, pulling a handkerchief from his hair and handing it to John, "But not you. Are you sure you're okay?"

A jolt of panic squeezed John's heart at Branch's question, suddenly remembering the tiny egg in his hair. "Yeah! Of course!" John snorted, wiping his face quickly with Branch's handkerchief and handing it back, "Why wouldn't I be?"

Branch stared John Dory down, the eldest brother doing his best to seem nonchalant. "If you say so," Branch finally sighed, grabbing some of the paper John had taken before, while pulling a pair of scissors from his hair. "Poppy's friends will be here soon. We should probably get to work. Glitter knows they'll maybe get three books done between them today between all the socializing, so we'll need to pick up the slack."

~

John waved at Poppy as he left her pod later that day, the sun just about ready to dip beneath the horizon.

"Thanks again for all your help, JD!" she called, bouncing on her toes as she waved. Branch stood a bit more sedately next to her, but there was a smile on his face as he also waved as John left.

"Always happy to help, Poppyseed!" John called back, grinning as he waved goodbye. And perhaps it was his distraction, or not being used to this particular path, but John gasped as his foot hit a patch of something slick. He wobbled, his foot sliding right out from underneath him as he squawked and stumbled towards the edge of the pathway, his eyes widening as as realized just how high up Poppy's pod was.

"John!" Branch's voice echoed out as John just began to teeter over the edge of the pathway. Suddenly a dark weft of navy hair wrapped around John's waist, yanking him back until he was practically right back at Poppy's doorway again. He gasped for breath as he sat down, a hand clutched to his chest. "John?!" Branch was suddenly in front of him, gripping at his shoulders, "Are you okay?"

"Y-yeah, sorry," John breathed, shaking his head slightly, "I stepped on something and I slipped." He took a moment to collect himself before smiling tightly at Branch. "Didn't mean to make you panic. I could've caught myself on the way down."

"But I caught you before you fell," Branch stated, squeezing John's shoulder's a little. John's smile loosened a little as he reached up to pat at Branch's hand. 

"Yeah. Y'did," John nodded, letting out a puff of air, "Thanks, B."

~

The second time John Dory tried to leave, he liked to think he was a bit more successful. He gave Poppy and Branch a hug each before he headed off, paying attention to where his feet were going this time around. He kept his eyes resolutely on the ground until he reached the bottom of the tree, at which point he quickly dodged behind a bush and slumped against the trunk. He clutched at the front of his vest, a hand going up to gently brush against his hair. If he'd fallen... He let out a shuddering breath as he slid down the trunk to sit. If it had fallen out of his hair it certainly would've solved his dilemma, but the very idea of the egg plummeting from such a height made his heart freeze solid in his chest. He couldn't even bear to think of it.

"Gotta be more careful," John murmured to himself, jerking a bit as the bush in front of his hiding place began to shake. He jumped to his feet to take a fighting stance, only to blink at Hickory as his head appeared through the branches.

"There y'are!" Hickory crowed, shoving the rest of the way through the bush, only to pause as he took in John's aggressive stance. "Were ya expectin' someone else?"

John chuckled nervously, quickly dropping his stance to stand casually while rocking on the balls of his feet with a strained grin. "Sorry, Hick. You just startled me."

"Mmm, I can see that," Hickory arched an eyebrow, "What're ya doin' hidin' back here, anyway? You were due home a little bit ago, so I thought I'd come see where ya'd gotten to. Smidge said she saw ya duck back here."

"Just needed a minute," John shrugged, "I almost took a tumble off the path to Poppy's pod on my way back down. Needed to take a little bit of a breather when I got to the bottom."

Hickory frowned lightly, reaching out to take John's hand. "Y'sure that's all? You've taken plenty a' tumble before. Y'seem a bit wound up, darlin'."

"Ya, well, y'know," John waved his free hand through the air with a tight smile, "I'm not getting any younger. Who knows how I'd heal up these days if I fell from the top of a tree." He let out a bit of a strained laugh, before shrugging, "Anyway, I actually still need to go and scavenge some berries and stuff for Rhonda. Her stash is getting low. So, I'll be home a bit later. You don't mind having dinner by yourself tonight, right?" He gently pulled his hand free of Hickory's, jerking his thumb over his shoulder as he took a step back.

"Wha-? Uh, yeah, I s'pose so," Hickory said, confusion plain on his face. "Y'don't want me t' come with ya?"

"No, no! I've got this. Rhonda's my responsibility, after all," John took another step back, "I'll see you in a little while, ok?"

"Sure," Hickory watched as John all but dashed away, his shoulders slumping as he felt an odd pang of something in his chest. Had he done something wrong? Breakfast had certainly felt a little stilted, especially when John left after a peck on the cheek and not even a backwards glance. Perhaps the teal troll just had a lot on his mind with Clay showing up in the next couple of days?

~

John growled at himself at he stalked through the woods, running his fingers through his hair and tugging at the strands, while also trying to be mindful of the egg. "Good job, John Dory," he hissed at himself, "Hickory probably thinks you're pissed off at him now. You couldn't keep it together for five minutes?!" He paused in his stomping to punch a tree to try and relieve his aggravation, only to pause as he heard an odd cracking sound come from above.

"Wha-...?" John glanced up just in time to see a large branch falling directly towards him. "Holy mother of trolls!" he shouted as he jumped back, just barely managing to get out of the way. He didn't quite fully succeed, as a jagged twig caught his jacket and tore the bottom edge, but overall he considered himself extremely lucky to not have ended up crushed under it. He stood there in shock for a minute, trying to catch his breath and letting his brain catch up to what just occurred. "The forest is out to kill me," he wheezed after a beat, patting at his chest in a futile attempt to calm his heart down. 

It took another minute or two for John's legs to stop shaking so he could continue down the trail he'd been walking. Today truly wasn't his day. Perhaps his best bet would really be to gather up some berries for Rhonda and head back home. He could try and suss out his feelings about the egg and how he'd talk to Hickory tomorrow. Today was a wash.

~

When John walked though Rhonda's door when he'd finally finished up with feeding her, he was greeted by the smell of chili and fresh bread permeating the air. Which, honestly, was a surprise given how late he'd finally gotten back. It was dark out, and a party had been raging in town for at least an hour now.

"Howdy, darlin'."

John jumped slightly, still a little flighty from his earlier near death incidents, turning wide eyes on Hickory, who was standing next to their dining table.

"Sorry," Hickory offered a remorseful smile, "Didn't mean t' startle you."

"It's okay. Just had a bit of a day," John sighed, shuffling further into Rhonda to shut the door behind himself. 

"So I heard. I went an' talked to Poppy after I saw ya. You not only nearly fell outta that tree, but ya had a bit of a scrap with Branch. She said it turned out just fine, but between that an' Clay showin' up here soon, I figure yer probably a bit on edge. Am I guessin' right?"

John's heart fluttered in his chest as Hickory spoke, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly as the country troll moved forward to take his hands gently. "Yeah. I didn't mean to get all weird on your earlier. I just have a lot on my mind right now." Admittedly, it was a lot more than what Hickory had surmised, but he wasn't about to get into that quite yet.

"It's alright. Figured a good meal might help settle ya a bit," Hickory hummed, tugging John forward and gently nudging him towards a chair at the table. "I got some ingredients at the market an' whipped up some chili for us. Woulda made the bread, too, but that would've taken too long. So, that's just from the little bakery stall that y'said Floyd likes to get scones at."

"You're too good to me, Hick," John sighed, settling himself at the table as Hickory placed a bowl of chili with a thick slice of bread dipped into the side in front of him.

"Nah," the country troll laughed, "I'm just the right amount."

~

A couple of days came and went, and John still hadn't figured out how he was going to talk to Hickory. He'd also had a rogue glitter cannon go off near him, nearly taking his arm off, and a loose flyer bug unintentionally snag him as a rider and take him on a joy ride until he could get the thing under control. All in all, he'd been stressed to the nines and truly beginning to wonder if the universe actually had it out for him. And now, the icing on the stress ball of a cupcake he found himself with, Clay was showing up with the Putt Putt trolls.

"Hey, hey!" Clay crowed as he and Viva lead a group of nervous looking, monochromatic trolls into the center of the village. He waved enthusiastically at their welcome party, which consisted of John, Hickory, Poppy, Branch and Floyd.

"Welcome to Pop Village," Poppy declared in her best practiced queen voice, spreading her arms wide in a welcoming gesture and grinning like an idiot at her sister. It barely took a moment before the two were barreling at each other and swept up in hugs and eager chatter.

"Yeah, that seems right," Branch muttered to himself, though the fond smile on his face betrayed his put upon annoyance at how quickly Poppy seemingly forgot her duties. "Okay! Everyone, if I could have your attention?" Branch called towards the Putt Putt trolls as he wandered away from the remaining three welcome party members, shouting directions to the various welcome activities and events Pop Village had put together for the final wave of new comers.

"Oh, man. It's so good to finally be here," Clay said with a grin as he walked up to John, Hickory and Floyd. "You guys cannot even begin to imagine how sucky it is to camp out for, like, a week straight."

"Oh no. What a horrible fate to endure," John sarcastically remarked, earning a snort of laughter from Floyd and a glare from Clay.

"Not all of us are feral, John Dory," Clay sniffed, before pulling Floyd in for a hug. "Hey, man! How're you doing?! You look like you're walking better."

"I am, thank you," Floyd said with a laugh as he returned the hug, "Branch made me a walking cane that's helped a lot." He lifted the cane to show it off, Clay remarking eagerly on the craftsmanship.

John smiled dopily at his brothers, enjoying watching them interact happily when a quiet cough next to him reminded him of both his manners and a very important troll Clay had yet to actually meet. "Oh! Right, sorry." John cleared his throat and stepped forward, waving a little to get Clay's attention, which was only given after a long suffering groan left Clay.

"Do you really need constant validation, JD?" Clay asked, before registering that there was even another troll standing with the brothers. "Oh! Sorry, didn't see you there. I'm Clay, licensed CPA, and middle brother of these idiots. You are?" Clay offered his hand towards Hickory, who chuckled at the introduction.

"The name's Hickory," the country troll replied, shaking Clay's hand, "Uh, ex professional bounty hunter, an' yer oldest brothers partner."

"Partner? Like, as in business?"

John rolled his eyes and groaned, while Hickory simply laughed. "Nah. As in datin'."

"Wh- John Dory!" Clay exclaimed, punching his eldest brother in the arm, "You could've said something!"

"I tried!" John rubbed at his arm, "You were too busy being an ass."

"Says the biggest ass of them all," Clay quipped back, before looking back to Hickory. "I am so sorry. Blink twice if this is a hostage situation."

"CLAY!"

"What? There's gotta be some outside reason he'd choose to date /you/, of all trolls," Clay stated with a shrug, grinning as Floyd snickered quietly beside him.

"I'll give /you/ an outside reason," John grumbled, glaring at his brother.

"Hey, easy now," Hickory soothed, rubbing John's shoulder. "Actually, yer brother an' I have known each other for a long time. We dated before, an' just recently got back together."

"So you've always made poor life decisions. I see, I see," Clay nodded, resulting in a roar of outrage from John as he jumped at his younger brother. Clay yelped as he took off running through the town square with John hot on his heels, while Floyd doubled over in laughter and Hickory watched them go off in mild confusion.

"S'that normal?" Hickory asked once Floyd's laughter had subsided and John's yelling had gotten a fair distance away.

"More or less, I suppose," Floyd chuckled, wiping tears from his eyes. "When we were younger, it was Clay's favorite pass time to see how riled up he could get John before they wound up in a wrestling match. He likes to dig at John. I think he believes it helps keep John grounded. Or, at least, I think that was his reason when we were younger, since John tended to go a little off the rails with the whole 'perfect' thing. Nowadays, I think it's just habit."

"I see," Hickory nodded, truthfully a little put off by the interaction. He couldn't even imagine trying to have that sort of relationship with Dickory. Mind, they were very different siblings from John Dory and his brothers. "Well, s'long as I don't have to worry 'bout them killin' each other, I s'pose it's fine."

"They won't actually hurt each other," Floyd reassured, looking thoughtful for a moment before shrugging, "Not seriously, at least." Hickory gave Floyd the side eye, earning a light laugh from the pink troll. "It'll be fine, trust me. But, that does remind me," Hickory watched as Floyd rummaged around in his hair for a moment, before pulling out a piece of paper, "I got a letter from Bruce yesterday. Branch told him about Clay finally moving to Pop Village, so he's going to come for a visit. He said he's planning on being here in the next day or so. Can you give this to John, and let him know?"

"You betcha," Hickory took the letter and tucked it under his hat.

~

Later that day, after the Putt Putt trolls were dispersed amongst the village, Hickory found John wavering a little on his feet as he spoke to Branch and Clay about improvements that could be made on a trans kingdom train that was in the planning stages. Branch had a sheet of blueprints held out in front of himself, while John made little comments here and there in regards to possible wheel adjustments for various terrains, and Clay shot half his ideas down due to logistical issues with construction.

"Well, look," John finally said, sounding as tired as he was beginning to look, "Clay is obviously better at this stuff than I am, so why doesn't he just help you with pitching the construction to the council."

"I asked you because you've travelled the most through the kingdoms by ground. Your input is really helpful," Branch said, shooting Clay a glare even as the middle brother looked contrite, "Clay has some good points about the validity of actually being able to put your ideas into practice, but I don't think he'd be able to actually come up with any ideas from scratch on his own."

"Hey!" Clay looked offended, before deflating with a shrug, "But, yeah, you're right. You've got good ideas, JD, they just need to be refined." He scuffed his toe on the ground before letting out a long breath. "I'm not trying to shoot everything down. Just point out what's realistic."

John gave Clay a half smile, recognizing the olive branch his brother was trying to offer. "I know, Clay. Thanks. And, I'm sorry. I think it's just been a long few days of getting everything ready for your guys' arrival, and I'm tired."

"I think that sounds like our queue to be headin' home, then, darlin'," Hickory piped up, sidling up next to John.

"Ew. You called John 'darling'," Clay quipped, wheezing when Branch jabbed him in the side with his elbow.

"Thanks for coming today, Hickory. Your support is appreciated," Branch said diplomatically, grunting as Clay shoved him slightly. "And thank you, for putting up with us."

Hickory chuckled as Clay and Branch began to quibble at each other, glancing at John who had a fond, but sad little smile on his face as he watched Clay give Branch a noogie.

"You ready to get goin'?" Hickory prompted, nudging John slightly.

"Hm? Oh, yeah. Got a little caught up in my head there for a sec," John sighed, before picking up a small pebble from the ground and chucking it at Clay, who howled as if he'd been shot. "We're leaving! See you guys later!"

"I'm going to bruise!" Clay all but wailed, rubbing at his arm where the stone had hit him, earning no sympathy from Branch, who rolled his eyes at his brothers antics.

"C'mon," John laughed as he walked away with a wave, Hickory following shortly thereafter.

"What were you thinkin' 'bout?" Hickory asked after they'd been walking for a few minutes in relative silence, catching John's hand in his own to swing it playfully between them.

"When?"

"When you were watchin' Branch an' Clay. Ya looked a million miles away."

John nodded a little, clicking his tongue as he thought for a moment. "Clay gets along so easily with Branch. So does Floyd. I always somehow manage to say the wrong thing around him, and I just...I don't know. Maybe I'm jealous that my brothers all seem to get along so well and I just can't figure out exactly what I'm doing wrong."

Hickory squeezed John's hand lightly, offering a smile as John looked to him. "I don't think yer necessarily doin' anything wrong. Maybe yer just all up in yer head a bit too much? Overthinkin' what ya should be doin' or sayin'."

"So, I'm getting in my own way?" John asked with a little snort of laughter while nodding a bit, "Yeah. That sounds about right." He glanced up at they entered Rhonda's clearing and she rumbled a greeting to them. "How's my baby girl been?" he cooed at her, letting go of Hickory to give the bus critter as much of a hug as he could. Which resulted in him wrapping his arms part way around her face. "Have you been a  good girl?" Rhonda cooed happily in response, turning her head to lick John Dory and half coat him in glitter.

"I'll go get the shower ready for ya," Hickory chuckled as he walked past a dripping John, who groaned and let his chin drop to his chest.

~

Once John was bathed and in clean pajamas, he was about to settle on the couch to listen to an old record when Hickory suddenly jerked up from his seat at the kitchen table where he'd been reading. The movement startled John into nearly dropping the record in his hands. "What?! What is it?!"

"Sorry, sorry," Hickory soothed, walking across the room as he pulled Floyd's letter from his hair, "I just nearly forgot t'give this to ya. Floyd said it's a letter from Bruce. Guess he's gonna be visitin' in the next day or so, since ya'll are in Pop Village now."

"Are you kidding me?" John groaned, taking the letter from Hickory to quickly read it over.

"Don't sound too excited to see yer brother or nothin'," Hickory commented, raising an eyebrow at John.

"Ugh, I know," John grumbled, rubbing at the bridge of his nose, "It's just been a lot already these last few days. You know how stressed out I've been between the welcome party, how accident prone I've apparently been, and now this. Everything always happens all at once." Not to mention that with the Putt Putt trolls and Clay being taken care of, he'd hoped to finally have time to come up with a way to talk to Hickory about the egg. But now, with Bruce coming to visit, he'd have to push it back even further. "I may have been living here for nearly a year, but I am still not used to how much goes on here at any given time."

"Maybe you need one a' those guide books y'all put together the other day," Hickory joked, moving behind John to gently rub at his shoulders.

John chuckled quietly, letting his eyes slip shut as he felt the tension bleed from his shoulders at Hickory's ministrations. "Maybe," he sighed, letting Hickory rub his shoulders for another moment before turning in the country trolls hold. He draped his arms over Hickory's shoulders and bumped their noses together. "I don't know how you put up with me being so high strung every day."

"Ya make it sound like it's hard."

John chuckled as he pressed a kiss to Hickory's lips, a contented little sound escaping him as Hickory's hands moved to settle on his waist.

"C'mon, darlin'. I think it seems like a good night t'turn in early," Hickory hummed, walking backwards towards the bed and pulling John along with him.

"Yeah, okay."

~

Bruce's letter had been written just before the final Putt Putt trolls had left the golf course, and Bruce had stated that he'd be visiting in one week. Which gave John Dory a single day reprieve before his fourth and final brother got to the village. And he was planning on using it to his full advantage. Or, at least, try to. He'd banished Hickory from Rhonda to let her go for a romp around the woods for the day, and told Hickory he'd meet up with him for lunch, but that he was going to take the morning to himself to try and relax a bit before Bruce got to town and all hell, presumably, broke loose. And so, John Dory found himself wandering around the outskirts of town near the market, trying to come up with the best way to talk to Hickory about the egg and their future. If they still had a future. To say it was a daunting task was putting it lightly.

"Come on, John Dory. You were 'the leader' for years. Figuring out how to talk to someone shouldn't be this hard," he grumbled to himself, absently kicking a stone as he tromped past a candy stall near the end of the market.

"John Dory?"

John startled and looked up as he came to a stop, gaping as suddenly a tall, dark burgundy rock troll with wildly spiked orange hair came barreling at him.

"John Dory!" the troll crowed, before scooping John up and spinning him around in a circle. "It is you! Figured you'd still be wandering around the Neverglades." 

The troll dropped John back onto his feet, causing the teal troll to stumble slightly. "Crush?" John gasped, finally registering exactly who the troll in front of him was. "What're you doing in Pop Village?" Crush had been part of the reason John had only been to Volcano Rock city twice. He'd met him the on the second trip and they'd gone on a three week long bender that John could barely remember. They parted ways when John realized that Crush truly only cared about the party scene. It had not been a very civil goodbye.

"I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. After the rockapocalypse and all that, I kept hearing trolls talk about this place and the rad parties they have. Didn't figure I'd find you here, though," Crush said with an easy grin, getting a bit into John's space.

"Yeah, I'm not sure the parties they have here are quite what you're thinking they are," John offered with a bit of a strained smile.

"No? Well, you know I'm always packin'," Crush said with a wink, opening the studded vest he wore to show off a pocket full of sour worms. "But c'mon, tell me why you're here!" Crush clapped John on the shoulder and began to walk, steering John away from the market.

"My brothers," John grunted, digging his heels in a bit as Crush tried to get him to move. "I reunited with them a while ago, and I moved here to be closer to them."

"Brothers? I didn't know you had any brothers," Crush hummed, tugging John in close to his side and shaking him slightly. John scowled as he was manhandled. "Sounds boring, though, man. What happened to my adventurous Johnny Boy, huh?"

"Pretty sure your version of 'Johnny Boy' never existed," John grumbled, squirming enough to be able to shove Crush's arm off his shoulders. He glanced up at the sky, noting that it was getting near mid-day. He should be meeting Hickory soon. "Look. It's been...surprising to see you, Crush. But, I've gotta get-" he startled and stumbled backwards as Crush suddenly crowded into him, forcing John to back up into a tree trunk.

"You can't be leaving so soon," Crush cooed, a crooked grin on his face, "We haven't even had a chance to catch up yet."

"Catch up? Crush. You didn't even remember I had brothers, and I /know/ I told you about them. What's there to catch up on?" John stated with a scowl, hating how the rock troll towered over him. "What do you want?"

"C'mon, Johnny baby, don't be like that," Crush sighed, effectively boxing John in by placing his hands on the tree truck above John's shoulders, a lascivious smirk on his face as he leaned over the smaller troll. "We had a lot of fun when you visited Volcano Rock City. We could have a lot of fun here, too, y'know."

John growled under his breath, his fists clenching at his sides. "That was years ago, Crush. I've grown up and moved on. So should you."

"Oh, please, Johnny," Crush said with a cruel sounding laugh, "You growing up? I was there when you scarfed down three sour worms, stripped down to just your goggles and danced on a table while trolls threw rock candy at you for tips."

"I did what?" The tension that John had been building in his body suddenly left at the shock of hearing such a story about himself that he couldn't even remember.

Crush chuckled, lifting a hand from the tree to pluck absently at the fur trim of John's vest. "It was quite the night. You made out with some twink when you finally got down off the table, and I took you both home."

John flushed in embarrassment, scowling darkly up at Crush. "Well, even so, that was years ago, like I said. I /have/ grown up, and I'm with someone now, so if you don't mind," John practically snarled, shifting to push at Crush's chest to get him to move. He paused when he caught sight of a familiar cowboy hat at the edge of the market, opening his mouth to shout and catch Hickory's attention.

"With someone?" Crush scoffed, pressing into John's space and dipping his head, "Does he make you squeal like I did?" With that Crush caught John's face between his hands and forced a kiss on him, shoving him back into the tree and cutting off his shout.

John saw red. He roughly shoved Crush away while turning his head to spit the taste of the other troll out of his mouth. "What the FUCK, Crush?!" John shouted, infuriated as all the rock troll did was laugh at him.

"What? You used to like it when I got rough with you."

John let out an enraged bellow before uppercutting Crush in the jaw, feeling satisfied as the taller troll stumbled backwards with a curse.

"John?"

John panted as he watched Crush pull his hand away from his face, glittering orange blood covering his mouth and hand. He turned his head as Hickory called his name, he and a few other trolls approaching after hearing John yell.

"You BITCH! You made me bite my tongue!" Crush snarled, flecks of orange blood flying out of his mouth as he spoke.

John flicked his attention back to Crush, and barred his teeth while brandishing his fist at the other. "Good," he hissed, "Don't ever let me catch you in Pop Village again, or it'll be more than your tongue that ends up bleeding."

Crush scowled at him, but upon noticing the group of trolls approaching he shrugged and spit blood at John's feet. "S'not worth it," he grumbled, hunching his shoulders as he walked away.

"John?" Hickory called him again, approaching cautiously, "What just happened?"

John sighed, letting his shoulder slump as he smiled tightly at Hickory, ignoring the small collection of trolls behind him that had begun to whisper amongst themselves. "I'll tell you over lunch."

~

"Well. He certainly sounds like he was a barrel full a' monkeys," Hickory said with a light frown as he poked at his lunch idly with a fork once John was finished telling him about his time in Volcano Rock City and his history with Crush.

"Yeah," John sighed, rubbing at his face tiredly. "I honestly never thought I'd see him again. I was hoping I'd never see him again. He was...not a good decision. I think I met him a few months after we broke up. It's probably why I made such bad decisions, if I'm being honest."

"You were copin'. Everyone makes bad decisions once n' a while," Hickory conceded, setting his fork down. "I ain't gonna judge you for yer past, if that's what yer worried about, John."

John looked to Hickory, feeling like he was on the verge of tears. At this point, he figured it had to be weird egg hormones making him so weepy. "What'd I do to deserve you, Hick?"

"You were just bein' yerself, pretty sure," Hickory hummed with a small smile.

A light laugh left John as he pushed his half empty plate away from himself. "Let's go find Rhonda and get her back to her clearing. I think it's another early day. For me, at least. I'm really tired after having to deal with," he gestured vaguely towards to edge of town, "all that."

"I'll help ya track down Rhonda, but I was gonna meet up with Branch this afternoon. You gonna be okay by yerself?"

"Yeah. Rhonda won't let anyone in that I haven't introduced her to. She'll keep me safe until you get home," John said with an easy smile as Hickory stood and leaned over to peck a kiss to John's cheek.

"Sounds good. Let's go get 'er."

~

Once John and Hickory had corralled Rhonda back into her clearing and Hickory had all but tucked John into bed with a record playing and book in hand, Hickory headed for Branch's bunker. Originally, he'd offered to help Branch with some ideas on the logistics for the cross kingdom train while going through mountain terrain. But now he had a slightly different agenda in mind.

"Thanks for coming down to help go over some details for the train," Branch said as he and Hickory descended into the bunker, "Since the primary residents of the mountains are classical trolls, and they fly, it'll be really helpful to get your opinion on how we can safely have the train move through the rougher terrain of the mountains."

"Y'know I'm always happy to help where I can, Branch," Hickory hummed absently, "Though, I honestly dunno how much help I'll really be. M'not an engineer or nothin'."

"True, but you can at least give me a better idea about rough passages, or what areas might be easier to get tracks through. JD isn't much of a technical guy, either, but his ideas about how to get the train over the volcanic rock, and for a semi-aquatic station near the techno trolls have been really helpful. Any insights I can get are appreciated."

"Uh, speakin' of John," Hickory said, chewing on his lip slightly as the elevator came to a stop at the bottom floor of the bunker.

Branch sighed exaggeratedly and tipped his head back while rolling his eyes. "What's he done, now?"

Hickory frowned lightly at Branch's response, folding his arms over his chest. "What is with you all an' yer immediate attitude towards John? What made ya assume he's the one who'd done somethin'?"

Branch blinked in surprise at Hickory's accusation, staring off into the middle distance for a moment to think. "I...huh," Branch rubbed at his neck abashedly, his cheeks darkening in embarrassment, "I honestly don't really know. That was pretty off the cuff, wasn't it?"

"Yer darned skippy it was. Now, I know I don't know the whole history of y'all, but John's told me enough to get the gist that he hurt ya. I understand that, trust me, I do. But all I've seen is him tryin' to make it up to y'all by runnin' himself ragged. He's been completely exhausted for the last week, an' I was gonna say that I was worried 'bout 'im. But with that sorta response I wonder if I should've gone t' talk t' Floyd, instead. At least he doesn't seem t' immediately get snarly when I mention John."

Branch looked contrite at Hickory's scolding. "No. No, you're right. JD's really been trying to be there for me anytime I ask for his help, and he keeps volunteering to help with anything Poppy needs. Poppy's pointed out the same thing to me. I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions like that. I'm sorry."

"I'm not the one who needs apologizin' to," Hickory sniffed, walking into the bunker ahead of Branch. "I was talkin' to him 'bout y'all yesterday, an' he thinks he can't figure out how to interact with ya properly. I told 'im he was just gettin' too caught up in his own head. Now I'm beginin' to wonder if it's cause ya won't give 'im a proper chance."

"Did he really say that?" Branch asked, trotting after Hickory and looking ashamed. "Did he say anything else?"

Hickory sighed, moving to sit at Branch's kitchen table. "Not really, no. But he's been all out of sorts over Clay comin' t' town. An' now with Bruce comin', he's only gotten worse. Plus, this mornin' he had a run in with this really awful rock troll who was apparently his ex. I won't get into details, but I will tell ya that he punched the guy hard enough t' make 'im bleed."

"I had no idea," Branch muttered as he sat at the table across from Hickory. "Why hasn't he said anything to me or Floyd?"

"He puts up a front when he's around y'all. He's yer big brother. He told me, once, 'bout how he took care of all a'yall when you were little. I think that might make him think he's gotta put on some sorta persona when he's around ya, to make himself seem larger than life or somethin'. Like he doesn't need anyone to look out for 'im. But I can tell he's hurtin', an' there's only so much I can do for 'im. I wanted t' talk to you before Bruce showed up, so you could maybe talk to 'im before he sees John. They're the closest in age, right? I've obviously never met 'im, so I was hopin' you could ask Bruce t' talk to John for me. I just wanna help him, an' I don't think there's much more I can really do."

Branch gave a little nod. "Of course. I'd be happy to."

"Thanks, Branch. That's truly a load off my mind," Hickory said with a soft smile, "Now, 'bout that train a' yours..."

~

John somehow managed to sleep through the time Bruce was supposedly showing up in town.

"HICKORY," John squawked as he rolled out of bed, frantically grabbing his clothes as he dashed into the bathroom, "WHY'D YOU LET ME SLEEP SO LONG?!"

"Because you looked like you needed it," Hickory stated bluntly, sipping at a cup of coffee as he flipped the page on the book he'd been reading.

"What I need is to be on time to meet my brother," John said as he came back out of the bathroom, fingers in his hair as he fiddled with it absently in the reflection of the kitchen window while waiting for his own coffee to brew.

"No, what you need is to calm down an' breath," Hickory hummed, coming up behind John to take his fingers from his hair. He paused, though, when John's shoulders suddenly tensed at his touch and he dipped his head forward to keep Hickory's hands away from his head. "...you alright?"

"Yeah, just a bit of a headache today," John murmured, before turning around and taking Hickory's hands in his own, "My hair is kind of sensitive, that's all."

Hickory frowned but let is slide, slipping away from John's hold to pour the teal troll a cup of coffee. "If ya say so. But, really, ya need t' slow down. Your brothers'll still be there when ya get to Branch's place. You can be a bit late." He handed John the cup, who downed half of it once it was in his hand.

"Hot," John wheezed, sticking his tongue out as his eyes watered at the temperature.

"No shit," Hickory snorted, hands planted on his hips as he watched John swap the coffee for a glass of water to try and sooth the burn. "S'what ya get fer rushin'."

John scrunched his nose and stuck his burnt tongue out at Hickory, only to receive an eye roll in return. He snorted quietly, setting his water aside to pull Hickory in for a kiss. "I'll be back later. Don't miss me too much."

Hickory chuckled, cupping John's cheeks and nudging their noses together. "I'll miss ya however much I feel like. Now, get outta here." He pressed another quick peck to John's lips before pushing him towards the door.

What John was not expecting was to open Rhonda's door to find Bruce walking across Rhonda's clearing towards him. He panicked slightly, quickly jumping down from the doorway and rushing towards the purple troll. "Am I that late?!" he asked quickly, fixing his hair as he felt the egg shift against his scalp. "I'm sorry, Bruce. Hickory let me oversleep, and-"

"JD," Bruce scoffed quietly, a smile on his face, "You're fine."

The both turned as Hickory appeared in Rhonda's doorway, shouting a quick greeting to Bruce. "It's nice t'meet ya," he said with a wave.

"Likewise! I'm sure we'll talk later," Bruce returned the wave, before putting his arm around John's shoulders and steering him easily from the clearing.

"Wha-? Bruce, this isn't the way to Branch's bunker," John said, glancing back towards Rhonda only to find her door already shut. "What's going on?"

"Your boyfriend is worried about you, JD," Bruce stated plainly, "Branch talked to me shortly after I got here this morning. What's up with you, man?"

"Ah, so this is brotherly intervention," John grumbled, "You haven't done this since we were kids."

"Yeah. When you'd run yourself so blindingly ragged taking care of us that you dressed Floyd in my clothes for school and gave Clay a can of beans for dinner."

"There's nothing wrong with beans."

"You literally just handed him the can. I think he was, what? Seven? You didn't even give him anything to open it. Now, stop trying to avoid the topic at hand. What's up with you? Branch said you've been stressed out."

John sighed heavily, rubbing at his eyes. "It's nothing serious. Just trying to get used to being around so many trolls, while trying to figure out how to interact with you guys again. I'm all up in my own head. I already talked to Hickory about it. I'll be fine."

Bruce paused, pulling John in close to force him to stop as well. He turned his older brother around so they were face to face, narrowing his eyes as he stared John down. They stood like that for a solid minute, before Bruce scowled and gave John a little shove. "You're not telling me everything."

"What?!" John scoffed, holding his hands out in a incredulous gesture, "How would you even be able to tell that?"

"Dad senses," Bruce said with a shrug, "I can tell when anyone lies to me now."

John snorted and stared at Bruce in disbelief. "You're joking."

"Nope," Bruce said, popping the 'p'. "Now, tell me the truth, John Dory. What's really got you so messed up?"

"Alright, fine. Yesterday I ran into an ex, and he was really shitty to me, so I punched him. Does that satisfy your 'dad senses'?" John asked, doing air quotes as he spoke.

Bruce rolled his eyes. "Branch said you've been weird for the last week. That would only account for yesterday. Stop trying to avoid talking to me, John. I just want to help."

John opened his mouth to make another snide comment before pausing at the look of concern on Bruce's face. He let his jaw close with a click of his teeth, his expression slowly shifting until it looked like his whole world might shatter if Bruce said the wrong thing to him. "You need to promise me that what I tell you, you won't say to a damn soul."

Bruce frowned in confusion, but gave a tiny nod. It was so very rare for John to get so dead serious about anything that he couldn't bring himself to even try and argue against such a promise.

"Promise me, Bruce. I need to hear you say it."

"I promise, JD."

John quickly glanced around before grabbing Bruce's wrist and dragging him through a bush and down an old forest path that looked like it hadn't been used in years.

"Wha-? John, where are we going?" Bruce asked, already dreading the amount of leaves he would have to pull out of his hair later.

"Hopefully somewhere where no one will eavesdrop on us," John said, looking a bit squirrelly. Finally, after a few minutes, they stopped and John turned to Bruce with what Bruce could only describe as a frightened look on his face. "I'm serious about this, Bruce. You can't tell anyone. I need more time to figure things out."

"Figure what out? John, you're starting to scare me."

John swallowed thickly, staring his brother down for another moment, before reaching up to part his hair enough that the purple troll could see the little egg nestled near the crown of his head. "It's Hickory's," he murmured, watching as Bruce's face lit up.

"John!" Bruce gasped, "Why're you so afraid to tell anyone about this?! It's amazing!"

John shook his head, letting his hair fall back around the egg as he dropped his hands to his sides. "No, it's not. Bruce. Hickory and I have only been back together for like three months, tops. We spent two of those apart while he was in Lonesome Flats, sorting his affairs out. I can't have suddenly developed an egg within the three weeks he's been back in Pop Village. It's way too soon. We haven't even talked about permanent living arrangements, yet. He wants to travel. He's wanted to travel since I first met him. Having an egg would ruin those plans. I can't...We've never talked about kids, Bruce. Not even when we were younger."

A dawning realization crept up on Bruce as John shrank into himself in front of him. "You're afraid he's going to leave you when he finds out."

"I don't want to lose him again," John admitted, fiddling with the bottom of his vest, "I need to figure out the best angle to present this to him. To let him know that I'll take care of everything, as long as he doesn't leave." John sniffed as tears formed in his eyes, a quiet curse escaping him at his heightened emotions.

Bruce watched John for a moment, before letting out a sigh. "Have you taken it out of your hair, yet?"

John startled, blinking up at Bruce in confusion. "Taken it out?"

"Yeah. It's been at least two weeks, right? You should be able to take it out of your hair for a few minutes at a time now. Have you?"

John shook his head a little. "No. I've only looked at it in the mirror."

"May I?" Bruce asked, gesturing to John's hair. The teal troll nodded, dipping his head a little so Bruce could easily part his hair. He gently pulled the egg from John's hair, cooing quietly as he cradled it to his chest, admiring the sky blue and orange shell. "Looks like it hasn't developed hair yet, but the shell is a really pretty color," Bruce offered, grinning a bit at the look of wonder on John's face as he stared at the little egg in his brothers hands.

"That's it?" John breathed, reaching out to carefully take the egg from Bruce's hands, "It's so tiny." The tears that had built in his eyes slid down his cheeks and dripped onto the delicate shell. John let out a quiet little sob, bringing the egg up to brush against his cheek. "Hey, baby," John whispered to the egg, "I'm gonna take real good care of you. I promise."

Bruce had to choke back his own tears at seeing his oldest brother speak so tenderly to his egg. "Hey," he murmured, matching John's quiet tone, "It's gotta go back in your hair, or it'll get too cold." He offered his hands to John, who tentatively gave the egg back to Bruce.

Once it was settled back in John's hair the two took a moment to gather themselves, before they began to trek back towards the main trail. 

"So, John," Bruce hummed, waiting for John to make a sound to indicate he was listening, "You know that feeling you had when you held it?"

"Yeah?"

"If Hickory doesn't get that feeling when you tell him, and he isn't in it for the long run, he's not worth your time."

"What?!" John stopped, looking scandalized at the suggestion. "He's the best troll I have ever met. He's kind, caring, and sympathetic. He puts up with me when I'm a mess, and takes good care of me. Why would you say that?"

Bruce snorted a laugh, grinning as he reached over to pat John's shoulder. "If what you're saying is true, then that should give you some indication as to how he'll react."

John blinked, Bruce's outside perspective finally making him realize that he'd been massively catastrophizing his conversation with Hickory. No matter what he'd said or done thus far, nothing had driven Hickory away. And he'd seen how the country troll reacted to kids when they were in the market. He was always calm and patient and sweet. Perhaps everything would be alright after all.

"Plus, y'know," Bruce added, pulling John back from his thoughts, "You do know you can travel with a kid, right?"

"Oh," John breathed, feeling like a weight was lifted off his shoulders.

"Yeah, oh," Bruce mocked, punching John softly in the shoulder. "You're such a meat head some times."

"I try," John said with a derisive little laugh, absently rubbing at where Bruce had hit him. "Thanks. For talking. With me."

"Anytime, JD," Bruce said with a laugh as they made it back to the main trail, "Though, now I do have to ask the hard question. Have you been to the doctor yet to make sure everything is all good?"

"You know the answer to that is no," John stated bluntly, giving his brother a deadpan stare.

"Then guess where we're going right now?" Bruce asked, snagging John's wrist before the teal troll could bolt away.

"No! Bruce," John practically whined, digging his heels in and pulling back as Bruce dragged him along the path, "C'mon. You saw it. It's fine! We don't need to go to the doctor."

Bruce let out a put upon sigh, turning to John. "You know there's such a thing as doctor patient confidentiality, right? You'll be fine."

John grumbled at Bruce's use of logic, tripping a bit over his own feet as he was dragged along.

~

"Well," Doctor Moonbloom hummed as she pulled her hands from John's hair, making the teal troll shudder violently, "Everything looks tip top! It appears to be roughly two and a half weeks along. If everything stays on track, it should develop hair in another week and a half or so, and then you'll be able to share incubation with your partner."

"That's good to hear. Thanks, doc," Bruce said with a smile as John stared off into space, obviously still a little dumbstruck by the whole ordeal. He was pretty sure up until holding the egg, it wasn't really real to John.

"Anytime. I expect to see you back in about three weeks, John Dory, so we can take another look at it a month and a half into development," Moonbloom said, snapping her fingers in front of John Dory's face to get his attention.

"Yes! Right! Month and a half," John said quickly, sitting back and away from the doctor. 

"Good. Now, if that's everything," she began, only to pause as John put his hand over her medical chart.

"Actually, doc," John said, frowning lightly, "I do have a question."

"Yes?"

"I was with my partner for a full year when I was younger. Same partner as now. Shouldn't I have developed an egg back then, if this one happened so quickly?"

"Well," Moonbloom said, tapping a finger to her chin thoughtfully, "That may depend on one major factor. I've heard around the village that until very recently you've travelled a lot, John Dory. When you met your partner, where were you?"

"Up in the mountains," John answered easily, "A little village."

"And, was it cold up in those mountains?"

"I don't think the snow ever melted," John said with a shrug, "I don't really see what that has to do with anything."

"Ah," Moonbloom said with an easy grin, "Pop trolls can only conceive in warmer climates. I'm sure if you'd been somewhere other than the mountains you'd already have a small brood. If I recall correctly, your family is quite...prolific." She shot Bruce a look, which caused the purple troll to clear his throat and look away quickly. "I won't be surprised to see Branch and Poppy in here soon, either." With that the doctor left the room.

"I couldn't image you with a brood," Bruce finally commented with a light laugh, breaking the tension in the room.

John snorted, shoving at his brother as he hopped down from the table he'd been sat on. "I could've said the same to you, and yet you have, what? Twelve kids?"

"Thirteen," Bruce supplied helpfully.

"Thirteen," John breathed, shaking his head as the two walked out of the doctors office, "That's nuts. I can't even imagine."

"It's not hard to image when it's real," Bruce laughed, tugging John into a side hug as they walked. "Just you wait. They grow on you."

"What grows on you?"

Both brothers jumped as Poppy appeared next to them, a curious smile on her face.

"Warts!" John blurted, eyes wide as he glanced at Bruce who cringed, "Uh, yeah. Warts. Had to go to the doctor because of...warts."

"Oh. Ew," Poppy stuck her tongue out and cringed back a bit. "Did you get them looked at?"

"It. Just the one. And, yeah. The doc cleared it right up," John said with a slightly strained smile and a nod. Bruce snorted next to him, earning a swift jab of John's elbow to his ribs.

"Good!" Poppy chirped, clapping her hands together and ignoring the odd behavior of the brothers. "Branch is with Clay and Floyd in the party clearing. We're going to throw a big BroZone bash tonight, so I came to get you guys to help with choosing decorations! I also wanted to talk to you about maybe performing a few songs? Branch and Clay are being real sticks in the mud about it, but Floyd seems excited and he and I were hoping you two could help convince Branch and Clay?"

John let his shoulders relax. "Sure thing, Poppyseed. You know I'm always up to perform."

"As long as it's for fun," Bruce added, nodding as the three headed for the clearing.

~

Once Bruce and John teamed up with Floyd, it wasn't that hard to convince Branch and Clay to join in on a mini BroZone reunion. Especially when Poppy was leaning over Floyd's shoulder, giving Branch cuddle pup eyes. Once the last two had caved, it was easy enough to divide up the work for the show that night between the six of them and the trolls who had volunteered to help set up. Clay worked with Branch on choreography, Bruce and Floyd discussed decorations with Poppy, while John was left with settling on a set list and figuring out additional light and visual effects for the show.

After a few hours, Poppy finally called for everyone to take a break. Once all of the trolls working on the party and show had a meal, they would get back to it and finish off the last of the setup before the party. All in all, John was pretty pleased with how everything was going, and was in the best mood he'd been since he'd found out about the egg. So it was an extra treat when Hickory showed up with a picnic basket on his arm.

"Howdy," Hickory called, grinning as his greeting was returned by a handful of trolls. "I brought some dinner for the band," he added, lifting the basket.

"Oooh, what did you bring?" Floyd asked, happily walking over to Hickory to poke around in the basket. He'd gone over to visit John /once/ when Hickory had made dinner and had since eagerly taken any food the country troll offered.

"Nothin' too fancy," Hickory chuckled, setting the basket down, revealing that he'd also been carrying a blanket, "Just some sandwiches an' the like. Figured it'd be a nice, quick dinner so y'all could get back at it right quick."

"Aw, man," Clay said with a grin, helping Hickory unfold and set the blanket on the ground, "How did John Dory manage to hook someone who's thoughtful /and/ can cook?"

"Watch it, Clay," John snarked, shoving his brother lightly once the blanket was set out, earning an easy laugh from the younger troll.

"This is really nice of you, Hickory. Thank you," Branch said politely, squawking as Bruce ruffled his hair.

"What Baby Branch said. Thanks," Bruce added, grinning easily as Branch started grumbling about his name.

As everyone began to settle on the blanket, John was called back towards the stage by a tech, requesting one last detail be checked before they took a break. "I'll be right back," he said, pressing a quick kiss to Hickory's cheek before jogging towards the stage.

The ominous and sudden sounds of wires snapping were not missed by anyone in the clearing.

"What the...?" John frowned, looking around for the source of the sound, only to freeze as he looked up to find the lighting rig that had been set up earlier over the stage was tipping towards him. He gaped, eyes widening as he watched the rigging come towards him, his feet frozen to their spot in the grass.

"JOHN!" 

Clay slammed into John, tackling him out of the way just in time as the rigging slammed into the ground, several of the light fixtures smashing as they hit the ground, sending bits of broken bulb flying through the air.

"Holy mother of trolls," John wheezed, clutching at Clay who was wrapped around him protectively. He almost died. Again. He was a bit too preoccupied with his fourth near death experience in the last week to realize that Clay had his face practically buried in John's hair. So it startled him even further when Clay suddenly sat up and practically shrieked, "IS THAT AN EGG IN YOUR HAIR?!"

John froze while a cacophony of voices suddenly began talking all at once around him. Slowly he sat up as Bruce dragged Clay away from him. He knew his other brothers and Poppy were all trying to talk to him at once over top of each other, but his vision tunneled on one troll who was stood in front of him, equally as frozen as John had just been. Hickory stared at him, a startled look on his face, while John's heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vice.

Hickory opened his mouth to say something when a sudden scream of "NEIN[7]" caused everyone else to stop. Almost in unison the little group around John Dory turned to see a short green and orange troll storming across the clearing, a look of fury on his face.

"Dickory," Hickory snarled, his fists clenching as he quickly moved to stand between John and his brother. "What're /you/ doing here?"

"I have been trying to prevent you from making a terrible mistake with die schlampe[8]. But he's too wily. I haven't managed to catch him in any of my traps," Dickory snapped back, stopping a few feet from the group.

"Traps?" John muttered to himself, frowning as he thought for a moment only to jump to his feet and point accusingly at Dickory. "YOU'RE the reason things kept almost killing me? The slick spot near Poppy's pod, that branch nearly crushing me, the glitter cannon, the flyer bug?! What the fuck, Dickory?!"

"I feel like you are exaggerating. None of those things were guaranteed to kill you. Maim, perhaps, but death was not the goal," Dickory said with a non-committal shrug.

"Right up until you almost crushed him with the lighting rig," Clay suddenly piped up with a growl, taking a threatening step towards Dickory. He only stopped as Bruce put a hand on his shoulder.

"Desperate measures. Especially when I could not even get my brother to see reason when he caught der landstreicher[9] with one of his disgusting past lovers," Dickory sniffed, waving his hand at John like he was a particularly distasteful piece of trash.

"YOU brought that piece of garbage to town?" John growled, stepping forward with a fist brandished towards Dickory, only to bump into Hickory's arm as the country troll put it up to keep John back.

"My life is no longer any of your business, Dickory," Hickory ground out, "You need to leave, right now, before I do somethin' we both regret."

"Okay, one," Hickory snapped right back, "You do NOT get t' talk 'bout John like that. You don't know him like I do, an' you never will, so you keep his name outta yer mouth. An' two, you've been followin' me?!"

"Nein[10]. Not until you see the terrible truth of the choices you have made. We were some of the most feared bounty hunters in the kingdom, and you threw it all away for some hure[11]. There is no way that is your egg, Hickory. I know you have only been back in this town for three weeks," Dickory snapped, pointing accusingly at John, "He is an unfaithful wench."

"I had to make sure you were making good life choices. Which you have not," Dickory scoffed, sneering at John, who then needed to be stopped from going at Dickory by Hickory again.

"I make perfectly good life choices. I don't need ya followin' me like some sorta cursed shadow. What I need is for you t' get out of Pop Village an' stop trying to control my life. It's mine, do you hear me?!" Hickory shouted, dropping his country accent as he yelled, "I am finally happy, you do not get to control me anymore! I AM HAPPY. I would not even care if the egg wasn't mine. As long as I am with John. Why can't you just let me be happy?!" He choked on air as he finished, angry tears in his eyes. 

Dickory looked taken aback briefly, only to return to sneering at his brother. "You do not know what you are talking about."

What absolutely no one was expecting was for Branch to suddenly run at Dickory and punch the smaller troll squarely in the jaw, sending him sprawling on the ground. 

"Branch!" John gasped, quickly moving to pull his youngest brother away from Dickory, who was pushing himself up into a sitting position and rubbing at his jaw.

"Sorry," Branch grumbled, flexing his fist, "You probably wanted to do that, right?"

John couldn't help the snort of laughter that left him, tugging his baby brother into a hug. "Yeah. But, thanks for doing it for me."

"Well, I think this calls for a royal decree. Don't you, Queen Poppy?" Floyd hummed, turning to look at Poppy with a raised eyebrow.

"I do," Poppy agreed, stepping around the brothers to glare down at Dickory. "You, Dickory, are hereby banished from Pop Village, and the surrounding pop territories. Should you be found within the territories of the pop trolls again you will be found in violation of your banishment. Should such a trespass occur, you will be sent to the dungeons in Bergen Town. Your sentence will be based on your proximity to the village. The closer you are, the longer your imprisonment will be."

"Wow. Very official," Clay muttered, having taken a notebook out of his hair and jotted down Poppy's decree, "I'll get this notarized and filed for you once we're done here."

"Thank you, Clay," Poppy hummed, stepping back away from Dickory.

"You cannot banish me!" Dickory snarled, shoving himself to his feet. He took a single threatening step towards Poppy, only to suddenly bump into Hickory's chest.

"Oh, I do believe she can," Hickory growled, grabbing the front of Dickory's braces, lifting him from the ground so they were eye to eye. "If I ever see yer face 'round these parts again, do trust that I will not hesitate to make you regret it. Especially if you think about threatenin' John again. Do you hear me?"

Dickory reluctantly nodded, letting out an indignant yelp as Hickory dropped him on the ground.

"Now leave," Bruce said with a scowl, glaring down at Dickory, "Or Branch won't be the only one getting a good punch in today."

With that the yodeler shoved himself to his feet and quickly scampered away, but not before throwing a rude gesture at them all over his shoulder.

"Well," Floyd hummed, leaning heavily on his cane, "That was all quite dramatic. Maybe we can postpone the show to tomorrow night?"

"Seconded," Clay sighed, rolling his shoulders, "That was intense."

"I'll talk to everyone. We can definitely postpone. Especially since now the rigging all needs to be cleaned up and replaced," Poppy sighed, shaking her head with her hands on her hips as she looked over the warped metal on the ground.

"And I think John and Hickory have a conversation to go have," Bruce hummed, arching an eyebrow at his older brother, who shot him a glare.

"We can take care of everything here. You two go. We'll see you tomorrow," Branch said, offering John a small smile.

"Thanks, y'all," Hickory sighed, moving to gently take John's hand, who startled slightly, turning to give Hickory a wide eyed, mildly terrified look. "C'mon. Let's go have a chat."

John sent Bruce a pleading look, but the purple troll simply made a shooing motion at him, before turning to help pick up some of the metal scattered over the ground. "Okay. Let's go back to Rhonda," John conceded after a beat.

~

Once they were back at Rhonda, all of the anxiety John had thought he'd gotten over after his talk with Bruce seemed to come back ten fold. He climbed her stairs with mild trepidation, shuffling to the couch, only to begin pacing the floor instead of sitting down. He winced slightly as Hickory quietly shut the door behind him, the teal trolls heart jumping into his throat as he heard Hickory start shuffling around the kitchen.

"Come sit down, darlin'," Hickory finally said once John heard the kettle turn on. He turned his head to find Hickory gesturing at one of the kitchen chairs. "C'mon," Hickory coaxed, patting the back of the chair, "It won't bite. Promise."

John let a shaky smile curl his lips as he gave a short nod, moving across the floor to settle himself in the chair. He tapped his fingers across the table nervously as Hickory moved about the kitchen, making two mugs of hot chocolate. He slid one of the mugs across the table to John, before taking a seat across from him.

"I didn't want you to find out like that," John blurted once Hickory was settled in his seat. He nervously looked up at the country troll, who was setting his hat aside. 

"I would figure as much. Don't think anyone wants their siblings to suddenly shout their business out to the whole world," Hickory nodded, blowing on his hot chocolate. They sat in silence for a moment, before he spoke again. "Is it mine?"

"Of course it is!" John replied quickly, smacking a hand onto the table, "It wouldn't be anyone else's!"

Hickory smiled at him softly, nodding a little. "I never doubted. Just wanted t' get that one out of the way so it wouldn't eat ya up, me thinkin' it wasn't."

John gave a little nod, cupping his hands around his mug. "I know it's quick, and completely unexpected," he began, only to pause as Hickory reached across the table to touch the back of his hand. He looked up to find Hickory staring up at his hair.

"Can I see it?"

"What?"

"The egg. Can I see it?"

John nodded after a moment, reaching up into his hair to gently take the egg out, holding it gingerly out to Hickory.

"Well I'll be," Hickory breathed, tears in his eyes as he gently traced a single finger over the delicate shell, "It's so tiny."

"It's only a couple of weeks old," John said, "Doctor Moonbloom said about two and a half. I've gotta go see her again in three weeks for the month and a half check up to make sure it's developing properly."

"So, ya wound up egg bound after I'd only been back for three or four days? That's mighty fast," Hickory commented idly, his eyes trained on the egg in John's hands.

"Yeah. I asked the doc about that, too. I guess my family is known for having lots of kids, and quick. I asked about why it never happened in the mountains, and apparently pop trolls can't conceive in cold weather."

"Huh," Hickory hummed thoughtfully, finally sitting back in his chair. "You should put it back before it starts gettin' cold."

"Yeah," John nodded, tucking the egg back into his hair. He chewed on his lip for a moment, curling his hands back around his mug. "You're not mad?"

Hickory blinked, frowning lightly at John. "Mad? Why would I be mad?"

"Because I kept it a secret. Because this ruins all of our plans," John said, hunching his shoulders, "Or, well...our lack of plans, I guess. I just know you wanted to travel. We had been talking about going around the kingdoms, just the two of us, so you could see all the things you missed when you were working with Dickory. With an egg, we'll have to stay here."

Hickory chuckled lightly, shaking his head at John slightly. "Yer startin' to sound like I did when I thought I had t' let you be free to be happy. John, darlin', there ain't no greater adventure that I can think of than gettin' to raise a little one with you."

John's breath hitched before he let out a heart wrenching sob, tipping his head to rest his forehead against the table.

"Hey now! What'd I say?" Hickory quickly stood and moved around the table, crouching next to John's chair with concern on his face.

"I-I'm just so happy and relieved," John hiccupped, pushing himself back up to look down at Hickory, "And I think really hormonal, too, cause I can't stop myself from crying all the damn time." He choked on a sob, earning a light chuckle from Hickory.

"Aw, darlin'," Hickory cooed, reaching up to brush tears from John's cheek, "We'll get though this. Together."

John gave a little nod, smiling through his tears as he slid from his chair to wrap himself around Hickory. "Together."

German translations:

1 - Good Morning

2 - How did you sleep

3 - Too bad

4 - It is too early for english

5 - No, you are comfortable

6 - Heathen

7 - NO

8 - the slut

9 - the tramp

10 - No

11 - whore

[iameliseposts]

Little Midnight Rendezvous Lilia x MC

This fic is dedicated to @la-lolita ! Happy birthday hun!! I decided to make a cute banner for you and write a forbidden love AU fic for Lilia since you’d literally lick his ashes-

You’ve always been so supportive of my writing, this was the least I could do for you! You’re one of my closest friends on Tumblr and I hope you have an amazing day! I hope you enjoy bestie!! 💖💖

“We shouldn’t do this!” You whisper against the cold night as the short fae whisks you into the dark night. Hand in hand, your assailant ran in front of you, taking you alongside him further and further away from your home. Although, you couldn’t be far from home when he’s near. The icy air was gliding down your skin, making you chilled to the bone. 

Lilia looks back, staring deeply within you, “Oh? Have you not wanted this?” You didn’t reply, how could you reply when he was absolutely right? You bit your bottom lip, as though that would silence your breath and keep you both hidden. 

Even when looking at you, he still moves gracefully and quickly. Compared to the elegance that was your fae, you must look spent. Every night, Lilia appears at your window and steals you away. Once the shimmering lights of daybreak appear, he returns you to your room, like the gentleman he is. Parted at dawn, but rejoined at dusk. 

You didn’t have a choice, but to have your little midnight rendezvouses. You weren’t allowed to meet under the blurring sun with others’ glaring eyes. It wasn’t allowed, you see. More than not socially exceptional. Lilia was a fae, a well known fae. One loyally dedicated to the royal family. Simply put, he was a man of high power. 

High power comes with high affluency. High affluence brings more respect. A fae as respected as Lilia must be seen in a good light by the public. A romance between a fae and a human was deeply frowned upon. You’ve heard stories of lovers being exiled from Briar Valley with nowhere to go. It truly terrifies you of how ruthless Lilia’s country could be, considering how sweet the fae himself was to you. 

Yet, every time Lilia shows up at nightfall, you couldn’t resist his charm. This is a dangerous and wild flame of love. It consumes you both and threatens the very life you live. This path you both continue to walk is treacherous at each turn with only one person you could rely on. Each other until the very end. Each morning you repeat, “Don’t come back tonight. I don’t want to hurt you.”

You lied. Each morning you told your white lie in a pathetic attempt to prevent harm to Lilia. He didn’t buy it and neither did you if you had to be honest. You wanted him to come each night and the way you avoided meeting eyes when you said your line exposed you. “I shall stop coming when you truly mean that statement.” Lilia replies as he slinks back to his quarters with the revealing light of day. This was a cycle. “Stop coming here! You know what happens if you get caught…” “You still wish to lie straight to me?” “...” Over and over, this conversation occurred. 

You both stop running once you came onto a vast flower patch. You’ve been all over since you started seeing Lilia, but nothing beats the beauty of the luminescent beams of the moon shining onto the radiant flowers. These flowers were special. They reflect light which enhances the already alluring petals. 

Keeping your hand in his, Lilia pulls you towards him. You crash onto him, nuzzling your face in the corner of his neck. ‘Don’t come back tonight. What a lie.’ Really, it was foolish of you to say. How could you say that after spending all your nights in his warm embrace. Spending all your nights with his lips on yours. Spending all your nights under the moonlight with the love of your soul. What a lie.

“You’re cold.” Lilia states as he wraps his arms around you, like a blanket. You hug your fae, getting all the heat you could from him, “Yeah, it’s kinda cold tonight. It’s getting colder each night. I should have brought a jacket.” Lilia chuckles, deep and mellow, “There is no need for that. You have me after all.” With a snap of his fingers, you felt your skin lose its goosebumps and you felt cozy. 

You whisper, tracing invisible patterns with your index finger on his back, “Thank you, my fae.” You felt a hand on the back of your thighs as you got picked up. You were used to Lilia’s antics, so you knew not to be worried. Lilia sat down and placed you onto his lap with your hand on his shoulders. 

You couldn’t help, but admire his gorgeous face. You were so entranced by him that you didn’t notice your secret lover was doing the same. It was times like this where your lie was revealed the most. You both didn’t care who saw your display of love. You didn’t love anyone the same way you felt addicted to him. You just loved each other, your fae and Lilia’s human. 

Was this forbidden love really so wrong? 

[edgessunflower]

Dom X reader: where Dom confessed his love infront of the cameras after winning a Monday night Raw match. And the readers reaction

Ooooh!

Spur of the moment

Pairing: Dominik Mysterio x reader

Description: After he wins his Monday night raw match, your friend confesses his feelings for you

You yell and cheer for Dom as you stand ringside, smacking the ring as he dodges and slams Seth Rollins against the ropes, bouncing off another set and doing a 619 that knocks seth out cold in the middle of the ring. You and dom have been friends for years since meeting in 6th at middle school, always walking together to and from class, defending and protecting each other from bullies, helping each other with homework, meeting each other's families, even spending holidays together and practically blending his family of him, his parents, and sister with yours of you, your mom, your two older sisters, your eldest brother, and younger cousin who lived with you, always calling everyone and each other family, being at all of his matches since he joined WWE alongside his dad Rey who became the closest thing to a real dad you ever had in your whole life. You cheer and scream as the ref counts and dom is announced as the winner, jumping in the ring and into his arms as he holds the title in the air and holds you to him as the crowd cheers and goes wild at someone finally putting seth in his place, you laugh as rey jumps in, hugging and telling dom how proud he is of him and hugs you as he walks out of the ring backstage while you smile watching dom celebrate in awe as the crowd cheers and chants his name then for you which surprised you considering you haven't been wrestling for long and mostly join him and rey in tag teams but you smile big as you hug each other, followed by your normal kiss on his cheek making him turn a bright red as you turn to leave the ring until he grabs your arm "Hey I need to tell you something". You turn looking at him as he holds your face in his hands, feeling your heart stop and your eyes widen "I don't know whether you feel the same even though aalyah told me you did, but for as long as I have known you, I have been in love with you and I wanna know if you truly feel the same" you smile as hold his arms, he surges forward as you feel everything in you stop but you wrap your arms around him as the crowd cheers pulling away and walking out of the ring hand in hand "What was that for?" you said as you squeeze his hand as you walk to his locker room "Not only because it was spur of the moment but I really wanted to do that for so long" you laugh as aalyah runs and hugs both of you. You walk in his locker room smiling at rey and Angie who hug dom and what surprises you, rey kisses your forehead and they both hug you saying how they wanted you and dom to get together, knowing how much you cared for and about each other "Guess we gotta call you Mija now" you laugh while smiling as you wrap your arms around dom's waist, walking out to celebrate his win and have a movie date in his room when you went back to his house, falling asleep on him which makes him smile, kissing your forehead while rubbing your back as until he falls asleep, rey smiles when he peeks his head in to see the two of you asleep taking a picture on his phone and showing both angie and aalyah who smile sweetly at the picture.

[v3nusxsky]

Okay so I know you're swamped with lesso requests so feel free to ignore me I just can't get this idea out of my head all day and so I had to do something with it or else it'll bug me for ages.

Could you do a lady lesso X ever!reader based on the song labour by Paris Paloma. Maybe along the lines of r being in an abusive/toxic relationship and lesso slowly watches the spark get crushed out of r the longer the relationship goes on so she constantly checks in with r who fakes that their relationship is perfect until one night r comes crying to lesso in the middle of the night explaining they are pregnant and can't let their kid go through what they had to at the hands of their partner and lesso just holds them telling r it's going to be okay and while r is directing off asleep in lessos arms she's just casually planning their ex's murder to which r tiredly tells lesso she's not allowed to murder him cause she isn't going to prison cause r isn't raising the kid alone and confesses they've always been in love with lesso?

Feel free to go wild with your own prompt completely unrelated this was just my thoughts on a story I could see from the song. Sorry and thank you for putting up with your one millionth lesso request!

~🫀

Didn’t want him| h&c

*Authors note~ my lovely anon who is no longer an anon @a-random-dead-thing-in-a-grave im sorry it's taken so long for me to get to this one. I love the idea and the song so I had to do this for you*

Trigger warnings~ abuse

Prompt~ see ask^^^^

Leonora Lesso prided herself on being observant, that's what allowed her to find out her enemies weaknesses. But with you, it was more of a protective measure. It wasn't knowledge that anyone else at the school knew, even if Lesso wasn't entirely sure herself that she was right, but seeing the light slowly drain from your eyes was killing her.

Truly, you and Leonora were close, you had harboured secret feelings for the woman for years, but the partner your parents had forced you to marry was forever threatening to hurt her if you disobey his rules. So it was unsurprising that every time Leo would ask you how you are, if you're okay and even pointing out a few of the bruises and you'd lie to cover them, that she didn't believe you for a second.

Faking the perfect relationship while it was absolutely the opposite was exhausting. You didn't want to keep going but you had no choice. You couldn't divorce, that would aggravate him and your parents so you had no choice but to continue the pretence. It didn't matter if you were hurting or if you were miserable you had to continue. So you did. You kept on going until you saw those little blue lines on that test. After a particularly rough "punishment" from your husband you had felt off, only then you realised your period was late. The test confirming your worst fears. A baby.

It felt as though the walls were caving in around you. Air struggling to escape your lungs as tears flowed. How could you subject a poor innocent baby to him. You couldn't. Wouldn't. You had to go, now. But where? You ran to the only person in your life that made you feel loved, safe and protected. Your legs carrying you there faster than you thought was humanly possible.

Leonora was shocked to see you in front of her bedroom door, but seeing the state of you she quickly ushered you in the room. Only when the door was safely shut, did you allow yourself to break down. Her arms were quick to find you, pulling you snuggly to her body before your legs could give out on you. "Oh sweetheart what is wrong?" She murmured stroking your hair in a comforting manner.

The late hour didn't matter, Lesso held you until you were able to talk. "Leo mm pregnant" you whispered into her shoulder, the absolute devastation soaking your words. "Oh sweetheart shouldn't that be a good thing? You say your so madly in love and happy" the distrust was evident in her tone which is what made you chuckle, "I can't subject my baby to him, to this" you moved your robe to show the marks and bruises in different stages of healing.

Leo gasped in shock as her fingers danced ever so gently over the marks, "oh my sweet sweet girl. I'm so sorry he did this. I'll kill him. He doesn't deserve an Angel like you" she murmured feeling you stiffen against her. "I didn't even want him. I wanted you. I don't want to be some baby machine, only around to serve him. You make me feel seen and loved and happy. I can't let him hurt this baby Leo" you whimpered the bit. You'd just admitted to wanting to be with Leo, you were expecting rejection. I mean who would willingly want you? Your own parents thought they had to marry you off because no one would willingly pick you as a wife.

You aren't too sure how, but you ended up snuggled up to the dean in her bed, her hands rubbing circles on your back as she hummed a tune hoping to soothe you to sleep. Her mind wondering to the many ways she could make him suffer for you, for the years of abuse and your parents. Oh she'd make sure they regretted not treating you how you deserved. It was as if you could read minds, "Leo cant murder cause prison leaves me and baby alone. We need you. You're my true love" you sleepily mumbled shocking the older woman. "Okay Angel no murder. What about maiming?" Causing you to sleepily throw your hand out to hit her gently, "no Leo, no hurt" you mumbled sleepily. You both knew then that no harm would come to either three of you,  and finally you'd be given that freedom and safety of true love.

Word count~ 1028

[commandershepardvasfuckit]

A rough chapter 2 for my little personal writing project. Chapter 1 can be found in my pinned post.

This is just me trying to get ideas unstuck from my head, so nothing too polished, but I know there’s some people here into dominate monster men so may as well put this here instead of just rotting in my notes

Wild power imbalance, D/s, spanking, and honestly several other things

The Dragon King does not take lightly to his newest treasure not accepting her place.

Unknown hours passed by as you rested and the sun was starting to set when you finally awoke.

You were alone still in his bed chamber, entirely undisturbed and still warmly tucked under the blankets, but you noticed a box sitting on the nightstand next to the bed with a small note.

‘You will put this on for when I return for you’ was written in a tidy cursive on the note.

The box was ornately detailed, gold pressed into the etchings on it and jewels inlaid all over. You opened it up to find an embossed leather strip, studded with gems and delicate carvings reminiscent of scales and what looked like a dragon’s head in profile. It was lined with soft fabric and as you removed it from from the box you noticed a small lock nestled in the bottom.

Looking at the piece you realized you knew what it was. ‘A collar for a pet’ you thought to yourself. The ends each finished with a metal ring, clearly intended to have the small lock threaded through it.

You ran your fingers over it, it was lovely, but also a symbol of your captivity here and a clear message from the king about your status.

“Ah, you’re awake” came a voice from the doorway. He was dressed casually this time, simple black pants and a black shirt with the top few buttons undone, even his crown was removed.

You had not even heard him enter the room, despite his great size he moved surprisingly quietly and light on his feet as he closed the distance to sit on the bed next to you.

“And I see you’ve found my gift. It will not be your final one, but something for you to wear in the mean time”. His words were gentle and matter of fact, much like all his actions so far, not that you trusted that he would stay like that. There were to many stories of his temper for you to believe this was how he always was.

“It’s a collar” you said, somewhat uneasy.

“Yes, it is. A pretty collar for a pretty pet. Is that a problem?” the tone of his voice told you that it was not actually a question.

“I did not realize how literally you meant it when you called me that”.

His laugh was a deep rumble in his chest, “Oh quite. While you are my newest treasure, you are much too lovely to just be hoarded away. No, your place will be obediently at my side or anywhere else I decide, and this is just a lovely token to reinforce that”.

Truly nothing more than a pet to him. Not that your life before had been anything special, but you had your home and freedom at least.

“Now, I had been hoping to return and find you collared and waiting for me, but I do suppose I will find joy in collaring you myself. Sit up”.

You shrank down in the bed, your mind free from the haze of the wine and resistant to be being claimed like a animal.

“I will ask nicely one last time as this is all new to you, but do not test my patience. Now once again. Sit. Up” his voice dropped into a snarl this time.

Still you resisted him, more frozen out of fear though than in defiance.

Swiftly he grabbed your arm and yanked you upright before depositing you face down across his lap, brushing the cloak aside and the cool air in the room shocked your skin.

“I find no pleasure in this, and I do not wish to harm you if you can believe that, but you will learn to obey one way or another”.

His hand came down on your bare backside, striking you fairly hard and causing you to let out a yelp. Then a second time he struck you, making you cry out again.

“Shhh,” he murmured, “That is all, little one. Two strikes for two acts of disobedience. Now you will let me collar you and you will thank me for the lesson and for the gift. Do you understand?”

You nod weakly, your backside stinging.

“Answer me with your words, and remember your manners when addressing me”.

“Yes, my king”.

“That’s a good girl. I hope you will not need me to repeat this lesson for you” he said.

You felt his hands brush your hair aside and slip the collar around your neck before the soft click of the lock told you that it was done.

“And now what do you have to say to me?”

“Thank you for this lesson and for the lovely gift” you answer weakly. Between the cold of the room and the pain from being struck you were shaking, and still draped across his lap you knew he must certainly notice.

“You are most welcome my little song bird. It is the first gift of many I have for you. I want you to be adorned with precious stones and metals, clothed in beautiful silks that show off your delicate form because as my little pet you are a reflection of myself. You will be taken care of just as any of my other treasures and I will make sure you want for nothing. I do truly want your life here to be happy, this is your home and you should enjoy it. Just say the word and you will have anything your heart has ever desired, as long as you obey me. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my king”.

“Now, let us move on from this topic, I do not wish for you to submit to me out of fear of punishment. Rather out of adoration and a desire to please. It would please me to have you at my feet, your head on my knee while I attend to my duties as king and to see you looking up at me full of adoration and love, as such I want you to view our bond as a positive thing: I will protect you and provide for you, and you will submit completely to my will at all times.”

“If I tell you to climb on my lap and grind on me while I sit on the throne and welcome guests you will without question or hesitation. If I tell you to bend over and present yourself to me so that I may take you as I please, you happily will. If I tell you to suck my cock you will drop to your knees that moment and suck me until I fill your belly with my cum and you will thank me. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, my king”.

“Good. Now I wish for you to join me in a bath, you need a good washing after your long journey and I could use some time to relax, but first” he gently lifted you into his arms and pulled you tight to his chest, kissing the top of your head softly once he got you situated, “I will relight the fireplace and draw the bath while you wait here. Having you shivering in the cold will do neither of us any good, especially as despite your little act of defiance you did learn quickly to submit to me”.

Before you registered what he meant, he had quickly tucked you back under the covers of the bed and had moved to busy himself with the fireplace.

You watched him in fascination, he was much quicker and more graceful than a human in his movements, even his footfalls were nearly silent despite his size.

In a language you did not understand, he whispered something as he knelt by the fireplace and a shower of sparks emerged from his fingertips, igniting the logs near instantly in a way that a flint and steel would not have been able to.

Magic. With everything else swirling about in your mind the fact that dragons were highly capable of magic had slipped it.

“It will be a bit before the room is warm” he called as he made his way to the bath, “but I trust you’ll be fine in a warm bath until then”.

The sound of running water emanated from the bathroom as the tub filled and several long minutes went by before the king emerged from the room.

“Come here, little one” he scooped you up unceremoniously into his arms, holding you tightly to his chest as he carried you to the bath before depositing you by the tub in the next room.

“Remove the cloak, I grow tired of seeing you wrapped in that ratty thing, it does not become you”.

Obediently you did as you were commanded, slipping the cloak from your shoulders and allowing it to fall to the ground. Once more you were laid bare before him, only it was much worse this time.

In the throne room you were gripped with shock and fear, but the whole process was detached as he inspected you before. This time however he looked over you with great desire, and especially after outlining his expectations for you felt greatly uncomfortable with his searing gaze upon you.

“Undress me” he commanded.

Your hands shook as you reached for the buttons on his shirt, clumsily undoing them until you were able to slip the shirt from his shoulders. He stood before you, lean and well muscled in the candlelight of the room, an otherwise handsome form were it not for his unsettling nature. Scars adorned his chest and arms, something you did not expect to see.

“Continue” his voice interrupted where you had started to become lost in thought.

Your hands returned to him, this time to undo the ties of his pants. You fumbled with the knot and you could hear the same deep, rumbling laugh as before.

“Oh my little pet, how you shake so. Best get used to this” he pressed another kiss to the top of your head.

With some difficulty you finally manage to untie the knot, his pants hung loosely at his hips, revealing a small patch of soft dark hair that trailed down from his navel. You tugged at the edges of his pants, pulling them down past his hips and surprised to find to find a lack of undergarments.

Clearly he sensed your surprise, not that you were particularly good at hiding it. “I do not like clothing, even in this form, let alone superfluous pieces that aren’t even seen. Now continue, unless something has caught your eye”.

Quickly you turned your attention back to removing his pants, trying to ignore his semi erect shaft that was now in your face as you kneeled to fully remove them. The tiled floor was freezing against you bare skin, but you continued on just to get past everything. Once you reached his ankles he lifted a foot, allowing you to slip them off of him one foot at a time, his shoes already removed sometime earlier while he was running the bath.

There he stood, in all his terrible glory. Scars peppered his smooth skin, nearly hairless save for the trail down his navel to his groin and a light dusting of hair on his chest, arms, and legs. He loomed over you, standing roughly two feet taller than you, but feeling especially large as you knelt before him.

“Look up at me” he commanded.

With difficulty you looked up and met his gaze, save for his smirk his expression was unreadable, his eyes betraying nothing.

“So lovely to see you in your place at my feet” he reached down to ruffle your hair. From an outside perspective it might have almost looked affectionate they way he patted you head, but you heard it in his voice, a condescending tone meant to keep you in line.

Wordlessly he reached down and hooked his arms under yours and lifted back into his arms yet again. There was no affection in his actions, just a show of strength of how easy it would be to toss you around should he choose to.

Still, it almost felt nice in a way. Your heart was racing, threatening to beat out of your chest and you were certain he must notice too. But you felt the warmth of his chest against your bare skin, the strength of his arms wrapped around you as he carried you to the tub. Were he anyone else it would have been an intimate moment, your heart racing in excitement instead of fear and anticipation.

Slowly he lowered both of you into the warm waters of the bath, welcome relief from the cool and tile of the rest of the room. He leaned back against the side of the tub and kept you pulled tightly against his chest as you sat on his lap, with his eyes now closed he could have almost be mistaken as human, almost.

“See? Isn’t this nice, my little pet?” he broke the silence.

“Yes, my king”.

“And look, so many nice soaps and oils for your hair and body. Quite nice. Have you known this luxury before?”

“No, my king”.

“Then let me show you” he reached for a bar of soap and after wetting it he ran it along your shoulders and collarbones. It smelled wonderful, strongly of lavender and warm wood. His touch was surprisingly gentle as he worked the soap into skin.

“You do not need to shake so, I have no intention of harming you” he whispered in your ear, but your rear still stung and did not impart much of a feeling of trust in him.

“And for gods’ sake, do not curl up and hide yourself from me” he shifted you roughly in his lap, changing you from sitting sideways curled in his lap just as he carried you to instead turning you so your back reclined against his chest and pressing your thighs down to make you stretch your legs out in front of you.

Now sitting like this you felt his cock press against your backside, very much fully erect this time. From the eyeful you got while undressing him he was already an impressive size when only partially hard, what you were feeling now was significantly more.

With gentle motions he continued to wash whatever of you was above the water, spending an agonizing amount of time on your breasts. He soaped up both of your breasts and quickly moved from washing them to playing with them, alternating squeezing them playing with your nipples, rolling and pinching them between his fingers.

A soft sigh escaped your lips, entirely unintentionally. You did not desire his touch on you, but your body reacted all the same.

“Just let go, little one. Enjoy it, want it” came his voice in a soft whisper in your ear.

You hated how wonderful his hands felt on your skin, how he knew just what to do to elicit more sounds from you.

“There you go, just relax. Be clay in my hands so that I may reshape you into the picture of perfection” his hand drifted lower, tracing circles along your stomach before slipping between your thighs.

You shot up in alarm, splashing water everywhere with your frantic movements, and attempting to climb out of his lap.

His grip on you tightened, clearly he had no intention of letting you leave this position. “Sit. Down.” He snarled in your ear. “You were doing so well letting me play with you like that. I thought you were starting to understand”.

You hugged your legs up to your chest, attempting to shield yourself from his gaze and his touch. Not wanting him to continue and also fearing what he would do next.

“Do not cower like that!” His volume rose, doing nothing to calm your nerves, “I am not a patient man, but I will not force myself on you like a common brute. I wish to explore and feel you, but I will refrain from more than that until you are willing”.

Some of the fear receded, you were still wary of his touch but at least were not in an immediate danger it seemed.

“This attempt at bonding is over. I will wash you so to ensure you are up to my standards. You will stand and allow my touch on all of you so that I may get this done quickly and throughly”.

All of the gentleness was gone from his touch as he wrenched you up by the arm to make you stand. He worked quickly, a slight snarl on his lips the whole time. When he slipped a hand between your thighs this time you did not dare move, though his movements were detached and quick, only scrubbing you down.

“Dry yourself off and wait for me in my bed” he barked at you once he was satisfied with his work. “As you ruined my attempt to relax with you, I will finish this bath without you. I will deal with you once I have calmed down and we will discuss your behavior. Do I make myself clear”.

“Yes, my king”.

“Good. Now hurry along out of my sight before I change my mind. Leave the door open on your way out”.

Quickly you scurried out of the bathroom, drying yourself only enough to not slip on the tile and made your way to the warmth of the fireplace to finished drying off before climbing back under the covers of his bed. You were not about to learn what may happen if you were not waiting where he expected you.

It was not long before you heard the sounds of movement from the bathroom, the sloshing of water and grunting. Even from you spot tucked under the covers you could hear his ragged breathing and moans. You had assumed that he wanted the door left open to keep an eye on you, though now you understood it was because he wanted you to be privy to his little show.

There was clear line of sight from the bed to the tub. You could see his face, his eyes squeezed closed and his head tipped back, his hand moving rhythmically under the surface of the water. He was panting hard, chest heaving and his moans descending into growls, clearly getting close.

“I know you’ve been watching me” he called out.

A flush of red overtook you face, you quickly rolled over and yanked the blankets over your head.

“Shy little thing, why don’t you roll back over and keep watching? It seemed like you may have even been enjoying it”.

Enjoying it was not the correct words, but you had been almost fascinated seeing him in what was a nearly human moment.

“You’re still in trouble from earlier, but I can be convinced to forgive you this time if you’ll roll back over for me”.

The pros and cons rolled through your mind. Avoiding his ire was high on your priority list as you did not think your raw backside could handle another spanking, but the thought of facing him while he stroked himself was too much to bear.

“Make your choice, I’m not going to wait around for you” he sounded so close.

You shoved down your embarrassment and rolled back to face him, only this time he was watching you back. His eyes were only barely open but even from across the room you were again reminded that no matter how human he may look at a distance, he most certainly was not.

“Good girl” his voice was a ragged moan, his breath coming much faster. “You got me so hard, your hands on me when you undressed me, sitting in my lap and letting me feel you, and now I’m thinking about how good it would have felt if you would have let me continue earlier. I would have taken my time to warm you up, make sure you could handle me, then lower you down on my cock and taken you so slowly- fuck”

he hissed, “Now that I crave you so much I cannot guarantee I will be able to hold back when I do have you”.

A string of harsh Draconic fell from his lips, common tongue entirely leaving his mind.

More of his mask was slipping, his inhumanity ever more noticeable and it sent a chill down your spine.

His whole body lurched at his release, a growl leaving his mouth like you had never heard before. “Fuck” he panted, “For your sake, you’d better come around to me sooner rather than later, because the longer I have to wait for you the much less gentle I’m going to be”.

Water and more dripped down him as he emerged from bath, his breath still heaving, though he only chose to towel dry himself despite the mess.

“I see you kept the damned cloak off at least” he said as he gestured to the discarded cloak you had left in the bathroom in a hurry. “A good choice my pet. You’re such a lovely sight collared and tucked into my bed, such a wonderful thought knowing your waiting naked for me”.

In a few long strides he was there with you laying in bed.

“Let me see you” he said as he peeled the blanket off of you. “An incredible sight, laid bare before me except for this” he tugged on the lock of your collar.

“But I need you closer, come here” in another show of strength he pulled you on top of him as he laid on his back. “Now isn’t that better? The intimacy of skin on skin”.

For the first time you saw a true softness in his expression, a gentleness in his smile and behind his eyes.

“Isn’t this better? To be held and treasured? I will give you everything you could desire, treasure and protect you, as long as you submit to me. I promise you will have a happy life at my side, much better than anything ever possible before, as long as you obey me without question”.

You had not said a single word since he dismissed you from the bath, every possible word caught in your throat, your mind racing and unable to form a sentence.

“Does that not sound pleasant? So simple. To be a pampered pet on my lap, no worries of your own ever again. All I require is your obedience and for you to desire me. Surely that is not such a high price for what I’m promising you?”

A life free of struggle, free of worry, living in luxury known only to royals, and it would only cost your free will and dignity you mused. Though what was the alternative? The dragon king was not a man who was know to just let his possessions go, your options were either to warm his bed and sit at his feet, or find out what happened to treasure that did not fit into his hoard.

With you face against his chest you noticed a scent, under the smell of the soaps there was something else: his scent. He smelled like wildfire and musk, a pleasant and warm smell. In your first decisive move you buried you face into his neck and snuggled more into his arms.

“Oh, my pet?” surprise tinged his voice, “Does this mean you’ve accepted your place with me?”

Your words were stuck in your throat, you did not want to truly submit to him or anyone else, but you knew any choice here was merely an illusion. “Yes, my king” your words barely a whisper on his neck.

He clutched you to him tighter, “I did not expect for you to accept it so readily. Such a smart little thing to understand how good this will be for you” he turned to kiss your forehead, “Though I wish you made this decision earlier, I have nothing left to give to you right now. But tomorrow morning, I promise to be gentle. Your sudden change of heart brings me such joy, how could I possibly be rough with you after the great gift of your acceptance that you’ve given me. I will make sure you know such pleasure that after you will crave me. Maybe I will even stay with you in my chambers all day so that you may experience all the ways I desire to have you”.

“If you so desire, my king” your voice still quiet against his neck.

“Kiss my neck, I wish to feel your lips on me”.

Wordlessly you complied, trailing soft kissed from his shoulder up to his ear. It was so much easier to follow his commands now that you resigned yourself to him.

“Good girl. Tonight I hope you rest easy in my arms. You must be tired still from traveling here and everything today. Tomorrow we will start settling you into your place here, but tonight I just want you to rest well”.

You felt him raise an arm and mutter a few words in Draconic, which caused the fire to flicker out, plunging you both into darkness. He shifted under you, pulling the blanket over you both.

“Good night my pet, may you find comfort and safety in my arms and in submission to me”.

“Good night, my king”.

[st0rmyskies]

Would Wind ever consider being vulnerable with any of the boys? It sometimes hurts my heart how closed off he is from the rest of the boys.

Wind will easily open up to Time first before anyone else. Time is more of a father-figure to Wind than his own father is, and the two of them are incredibly similar in that Time acted much like Wind does when he was that age. He knows more than most how to approach Wind, what strategies will and won't work on him, and how to tell when Wind is getting himself into trouble without truly knowing. Although the "language barrier" of Wind's strong online presence means that some things escape Time's radar.

Wind would rather die than open up to Twilight. His straight-laced boy scout cousin has only ever looked down at Wind like he's a little criminal in the making.

Wind might consider opening up to Warriors in the right circumstances. Although Wars is a notorious gossip who loves to pry, he also has a clever way with words and might be able to coax some things out of Wind now and then. On the whole, though, Wind would probably be quite guarded with him.

With Wild? Hard no. Wild doesn't seem like he has two braincells to rub together most days, and he'd probably share a secret Wind told him simply because he forgot to keep it a secret.

Around Sky, Wind tends to clam up a bit. Sky is nice enough and friendly, and Sky did offer Wind some comfort during HSH1, but the majority of their interactions are superficial. Wind can tell that there's something about Sky that lurks beneath the surface, and it makes Wind not want to trust him.

Hyrule is simply too busy with his own life to be emotionally available - or, hell, even physically available - for Wind.

Probably the two boys Wind would have the best chances to open up to would be Legend and Four.

Legend, because what you see is what you get. Legend puts on no airs, he doesn't censor his feelings, he's not going to butter you up for any goddamn reason, and he's going to be the one to give Wind's sass right back to him when it comes down to it. Legend also has a lot of his own personal hurt, so if and when Wind opens up to him he might know how to meet Wind halfway.

With Four, he's also very much "what you see is what you get." His sarcasm and dry humor might make him seem at first like he's hard to get close to, but he also imparts words of wisdom while hardly looking up from his work, and some of those things may hit close to home for Wind.

[jimintomystery]

DS9: "Fascination"

Ambassador Lwaxana Troi of Betazed attends Deep Space Nine's celebration of the Bajoran Gratitude Festival, mostly as an excuse to make another pass at Constable Odo. When a case of Zanthi fever projects her pining onto random people, it's a recipe for wackiness!

OK, I've been putting this one off, but it's gotta get done.

I didn't actually see "Fascination" until many years after it aired--another situation where my family was probably out on Saturday evening and I didn't set the VCR. I wasn't terribly upset about missing a Lwaxana episode, especially based on what I read about the plot. But I did miss one crucial bit of continuity, in that Lwaxana establishes for the audience that Odo has a crush on Major Kira. We'll circle back to that when I found out about the crush, with "Heart of Stone."

There's not much to say about this episode--it's just a bunch of broad comedy that doesn't fit the show very well. So instead let's use this episode as an excuse to examine a general trend in '90s Star Trek.

Jake Sisko is brooding about breaking up with Mardah (from "The Abandoned"), but one jolt of Troi's Zanthi fever triggers his latent attraction to Kira, and he decides she's the love of his life. OK, he's sixteen years old, so I get it. Vedek Bariel catches the fever and he's ready to kick Kira to the curb and propose to Lieutenant Dax. That's wild, but the fever is making people act like Lwaxana, so, fair. But when Dax gets it, she not only macks on Commander Sisko, she acts as though she's always felt this way. And that's where this dumb plot says something about the franchise's weird notions about romance.

This era of Star Trek doesn't know how to handle any unrequited romance except as a secret crush. You can't just fancy another character and kick yourself when you miss a chance to make your move--you have to have been melodramatically pining since the day you met them, because It Was Meant To Be...! So even in an "everybody has horny fever" episode, Jadzia can't irrationally fall for Sisko without also irrationally deciding she's felt this way all along, because in the language of this show, there is no deeper form of romantic attraction. Indeed, there is no other form of romantic attraction at all, except for a casual hook-up.

To be fair, some of the angsty pining in Star Trek works. But they do it with so many characters over the course of this show, and I haven't even brought up all the examples from the other shows. It started bugging me about a year before this episode, and about a year after I was well and truly fed up with it. "Fascination" just happens to be near the epicenter--sort of a sex pollen ground zero, if you will.

[sweatforged]

* ── 𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖒𝖕𝖙 𝑶𝑵𝑬 ❜ ⟨⟨   EIGHT   IS   A   MAGICAL   NUMBER.   ⟩⟩ 

to  drink,  or  not  to  drink...? 

  one  may  think  silas  needed  a  considerable  amount  of  time  to  debate  on  his  options,  let  his  mind  wander  &  make  up  where  this  path  might  -  or  might  not  lead  him,  but  truthfully,  deep  ..deep  down,  he'd  long-since  decided  when  that  voice  first  spoke  to  him.  he'd  never  been  one  to  fear  the  unknown,  he'd  been  the  one  to  conquer  it.

  admittedly,  finding  out  everything  he  thought  true  had  been  another  person's  imagination  running  wild  while  the  truth  had  been  kept  hidden  from  him  all  his  life,  had  been  quite  the  blow...

  but  silas  had  taken  worse  hits  before. 

  chalice  rested  peacefully  in  his  big  palm,  the  liquid  within  carefully  observed,  sniffed  &  eventually  considered  legit.  warnings  had  never  frightened  him,  he  chose  to  prove  he  was  capable  instead.  he  usually  was.  time  &  time  again  had  coach  warned  him  to  keep  his  mouth  shut,  to  not  defy  his  enemies,  to  decline  fights  offered  as  they  were  no  more  than  him  being  led  to  slaughter,  but  silas  never  bowed  out  of  a  challenge.  never. 

  not  once  had  he  tucked  his  tail  &  ran.  not  in  school  when  the  other  boys  conglomerated  to  take  him  out  after  he'd  taken  them  down  one  by  one  previously  with  sheer  luck  on  his  side.  he  sat  through  the  onslaught.  HE  SURVIVED.  he  always  did.  he  sure  didn't  struggle  finding  his  place  in  the  mortal  world,  he  had  a  good  job  even  after  giving  up  fighting,  he  had  a  nice  apartment  all  to  himself,  he  had  enough  money  saved  to  get  him  through  the  worst  &  his  music  refilled  his  reserves  in  a  slow,  but  steady  pace.

  he  didn't  need  to  do  this. 

  but  oh,  he  wanted  to.  finding  out  he'd  lost  a  lifetime  of  being  someone  else  -  not  only  with  his  true  parents  somewhere  out  in  the  world,  but  also  that  part  where  he  had  power  nobody  knew  about?  how  could  he  decline?  how  could  he  walk  away  when  he  was  so  close  to  finding  out  who  he  truly  was?

  "better  make  it  worth  my  time."  he  rumbled  quietly  despite  being  the  only  one  in  the  room.

  because  if  he  was  promised  pain  &  suffering,  they  better  deliver.  chalice  raised,  tilted  towards  him  as  brown  hues  watched  the  liquid  flow.  it  burned  on  his  tongue,  it  scuffed  down  the  entirety  of  his  throat,  but  silas  pushed  through.  drop  after  drop,  inch  after  inch  until  the  chalice  was  empty.  he  thought.  a  loud  noise  filled  the  room  when  it  dropped,  but  silas  himself  didn't  hear  it.  he  didn't  hear  any  of  it.  not  himself,  not  the  voice  that'd  been  so  chatty  a  mere  few  minutes  before.

  knees  hit  the  ground,  palms  followed,  but  balled  into  fists  a  good  few  seconds  after,  sweat  pooling  on  his  forehead  as  muffled  grunts  &  groans  filled  the  air  around  him.  his  arms  gave  in  &  his  shoulder  hit  the  ground  with  a  crack,  a  noise  he  remembered  all  too  clearly  still  -  like  it  hadn't  been  thirty  years  at  least,  but  he  remembered  the  fear  he  felt  when  his  sister  grabbed  his  arm,  put  a  foot  on  his  back  &  counted.  what  did  he  know?  he'd  just  been  ..him.  the  pain  cursing  through  his  body  when  she  attempted  to  fix  it  had  been  some  of  the  worst  he  ever  felt  -  comparable  to  today.  he  got  lucky  then.

  but  he  no  longer  needed  luck,  did  he?  no.  he'd  outgrown  that  need  a  long  time  ago.  though  now,  with  that  old,  familiar  throb  in  his  shoulder  back,  he  wasn't  sure  if  he  could  keep  going.  what  if  you  lose  it?  a  hand  appeared  within  his  peripheral,  slamming  on  the  ground  &  counting.  "stay  down,  boy.  stop  fighting."  the  low  rasp  of  his  coach  carrying  itself  all  the  way  through  his  haze,  past  the  throb  &  it  settled  right  above  his  heart.

  "fuck  off."  it  was  wrong,  he  was  wrong.  coach  would  never.  silas  would  never  surrender.  he'd  die  trying.

  "you're  too  weak.  you  can't  beat  him."

  "but  i  can  try."

  "why?  why  bother?  why  fight?  they're  never  gonna  see  you,  they're  never  gonna  accept  you."

  "i  don't  fucking  care."

  "then  why?"

  "why  not?  it's  all  i  got  left."

  "and  whose  fault  is  that?"

  "mine.  it  don't  matter  anymore."

  "then  why  keep  going?  just  give  up.  take  my  hand,  let's  get  outta  here.  you  don't  belong  here.  look  at  you,  you're  too  old.  too  old  to  fight,  too  old  to  start  over,  too  old  to  make  amends.  you  can't  make  up  for  lost  time,  boy.  stop  trying  and  save  us  both  the  trouble."

  "how  about  you  shut  the  fuck  up  and  go  yap  at  someone  else?  kinda  busy  here."  words  come  by  harder  &  harder,  but  silas  was  far  from  done.  nor  was  he  ready  to  surrender.  in  it  to  win  it.  always.

  "so  what  now?  you  do  this  and  then?  you  think  they're  gonna  want  you?  you  don't  belong  here.  you're  not  like  them.  you  lived  your  life,  well  -  you  tried  to.  go  home,  wait  for  death.  it's  coming  for  you  anyway.  sing  a  little  song  for  me,  why  don't  you?"

  "the  fuck  do  you  even  know?  just  go.  leave  me  alone.  fucking  piss  off."

  "so  you  can  wallow  in  self-pity  like  you  always  do?  ah,  right.  woe  is  me,  my  mommy  was  mean  and  nobody  loves  me  so  i  beat  up  everybody  i  see.  that  right?  they're  gonna  see  you,  the  real  you  and  that'll  be  it.  end  of  the  road.  back  home  to  sweat,  lockers  and  community  showers.  livin'  the  dream,  aren't  you?"

  "jokes  on  you,  she  ain't  my  mother."

  "oh  right,  yours  dropped  you  like  a  hot  potato.  think  she  knew  what  a  fuck  up  you'd  be?  can't  hold  a  job,  can't  hold  a  man.  guy  had  a  kid,  you  know  how  hard  it  is  to  date  with  a  kid?  most  desperate  guy  in  the  world,  still  he  dumped  your  ass.  you're  a  joke,  admit  it  and  go  home.  you  will  never  be  enough.  but  we  can  end  this,  it's  easy.  just  take  my  hand.  or  say  it.  that'll  do.  i'm  a  brat,  lemme  go  home.  see?  it's  that  easy."

  ".....no."  never.  without  knowing,  he'd  managed  to  push  himself  up  to  roll  on  his  side  at  least,  all  curled  up  &  in  on  himself,  hands  over  his  ears  to  drown  out  the  laughter.  maybe  he  was  right.  he  could  already  see  himself  alone,  doing  his  thing  as  he  always  did.  relying  on  nobody  but  himself,  watching  the  others  band  together,  watching  them  laugh.  yeah,  he'd  never  been  the  type  for  that  anyway.  so,  didn't  really  matter,  did  it?

  he  felt  warmth  on  his  skin,  the  pain  flaring  up  once  more,  threatening  to  overtake,  but  ..it  didn't.  instead  he  managed  to  bring  one  of  his  hands  down  to  it,  dipping  fingertips  into  the  wetness  spreading  on  his  abdomen.  blood.  for  sure.  but  he  wasn't  in  that  room  anymore,  there  were  trees  around  him  &  he  was  literally  laying  in  the  dirt,  alone.  not  another  human  in  sight.  just  him.  dying.  alone.  no  back  up,  nobody  who  even  remotely  gave  a  damn.  just  like  it's  always  been,  right?  why  should  this  ...  be  any  different?  his  guitar  laid  torn  to  pieces  not  far,  his  axe  stuck  in  a  tree  close-by.  at  least  he  fought. 

  smile  more,  they  always  said,  but  silas  never  felt  like  it.  if  only  you  smiled  more,  people  wouldn't  be  afraid  of  you,  they  said,  but  silas  ...  didn't  see  why.  why  should  he  lie?  why  should  he  pretend?  why  wouldn't  people  accept  him  the  way  he  was? 

  "because  you're  desperate,  they  are  not.  you're  lonely,  they  are  not.  you  want  to  be  seen,  they  already  are."  there  was  that  low  rasp  again,  but  what  it  spat  was  still  far  from  his  coach's  real  words.  that  man  had  raised  him  better  than  his  father  ever  could  have.  the  only  person  in  the  world  who  at  least  pretended  to  care  about  him.  "look  at  you,  old  man.  dying  alone  in  the  gutter.  i  warned  you  this  would  happen.  you  didn't  want  to  listen."

  silas  was  trembling,  his  body  shaking  &  teeth  clattering,  but  he  was  not  afraid  to  die.  it  made  no  difference  to  him,  or  maybe  it  was  for  the  best.  maybe  he  could  finally  stop  fighting.

  "ugh,  there  it  is  again.  pity  party  full  force.  but...  i'm  feeling  generous  today,  cause  seriously  -  nobody  should  die  out  here  all  alone.  i'll  help  you  up,  just  take  my  hand  and  i'll  take  it  from  here.  you'll  be  patched  up  and  warm  in  no  time."

  temptation  was  ..  running  strong  within  him  at  that  moment,  the  pain  unbearable  -  though  ..  he  endured,  that  emptiness  in  his  chest  overwhelming  -  though  ..  he  endured,  the  voices  cutting  like  knives  -  though  ..  he  endured.  silas  pulled  himself  through  the  dirt,  away  from  the  puddle  of  blood  below  him  &  towards  the  closest  tree.  it  was  slow.  it  was  excruciatingly  painful,  it  was  a  fight  he  didn't  think  he  could  win.

  &  yet  he  made  it.  curled  against  the  uprooted  trunk  of  it,  hands  went  back  onto  his  ears,  but  this  time  around  -  no  whisper  could  move  them  again,  no  pain  in  the  world  could  make  him  let  go  again.

  he  didn't.

  when  morning  came,  he  sure  as  shit  aged  twenty  goddamn  years,  his  clothes  drenched  in  sweat  &  his  palms  had  the  imprint  of  his  thumbs  etched  into  them.  but  he  was  still  here. 

  &  he  didn't  plan  to  go  any  time  soon.