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vase-of-lilies · 9 months

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❀ Pairing: Dark!Mermaid!Wanda x Sailor!Reader

❀ Non-con, dubcon, Captivity, restraints, slight experimentation, shapeshifting! Wanda, the ocean, sailing on a boat, a storm, shipwreck, a little bit of violence, virgin!reader (she has never had a sexual encounter, period. So she is very innocent), Wanda doesn’t know human anatomy lol, oral (r receiving), forced orgasm, overstimulation, fingering, (this next part is major whump, so PLEASE heed the warnings) Sewing readers legs together for a punishment, holding reader under the water until they pass out, screaming, lots of screaming, making someone stay unconscious with telekinesis, quick acceptance, soft-ish wanda, some fluff, Stockholm syndrome, (if there is anything else PLEASE let me know!!)

❀ Disclaimer and Authors Note: The pictures only represent aesthetics and themes. There is no certain skin color, body type, ethnicity, or description other than Y/n and “you”. I hope you like this! The pictures go to their rightful owners on Pinterest, and the comic-style picture belongs to the beautiful artist Jenifer Prince. I also have a really big feeling that Mermaids' love language is gift-giving. Because… stuff is all they find lol!

This is for @eloquentreverie 's Dusk Till Dawn writing challenge! I chose the lines “All you are is a liar…” “My love for you is not a lie.”

Bright rays of sunshine reflect off the water, not one cloud in the sky. The perfect conditions for sailing. You had been planning this trip for ages, and the perfect time has never been seen before now. Packing your bags was an easy task, all that was left was prepping your boat. Aphrodite is what you call her. The beautiful sailboat your father had left for you.

The sails are off-white, the texture of a canvas. In a way, this boat is its own form of art, and the beautiful name that your father picked fits perfectly. She was small, livable, and durable. It could withstand the fiercest of storms, waves, and monsters. Monsters, that you at least think are real. They were all just myths your mother told you about.

Mermaids that left trinkets on the helm of each ship they came across, an octopus-like creature pushing the boats in the wrong direction, and even the ocean itself; a lively source of nature that will always lead the way when these malicious creatures have any form of malicious intentions.

Making your way down to the pier, you are stopped by a villager, an older woman who knew your father very well. “Y/n! Y/n! Come here, I have something for your travels!” You hear from her frail yet powerful voice. She gently grabs your hands and pulls you into her home, making you giggle softly as she sits you on her couch.

“Now, I knew I would see you today because of the conditions out… there. I have this for you, wishing you safe travels and return.” She puts a dainty necklace in the palms of your hands. “It was a gift from your mother, she had told me to wait until you were older, and I think now would be the perfect time.” She smiles as you look at the beautiful oval-shaped locket.

“My family and I really love you, Eleanor. Thank you for taking such good care of us.” You smile up at her, closing your fingers around the locket with a picture of both your mother and your father. “Thank you, really, for everything.”

She shakes her head, “The only thing you owe me is a hug and a proper goodbye.” She says, opening her arms for you. You happily oblige, wrapping your arms around her hunched body. She was like a grandmother to you even when she was just a family friend, but you most definitely loved her as a grandmother.

“I love you so much, and I will most definitely bring you some trinkets if mermaids ever leave anything for me.” She chuckles in response and waves you off, sending you on your way to uncertainty.

Entering the deck of your boat was a feeling of freedom that you had longed to feel ever since the death of your parents. It was difficult to make it through the day without breaking down into your most vulnerable form; A sobbing, shaking mess.

Standing at the helm brought mixed emotions. You were finally here. You were finally able to feel like the woman your mother described you as. “You are a brave, independent, beautiful girl Y/n. You will do amazing things one day. That may be tomorrow or ten years from now. But amazing things they will be.”

Those words stuck with you from the day she died. Those words were what drove you to sail alone after all these years. She told you that you were brave, and that was all it took to motivate you to learn, grow, and persevere in your passion for sailing.

Now all you had to do was make sure you had enough food, water, and supplies in the cockpit, untie the sails, and mark the coordinates on your map. Once those subjects were taken care of, the last was to untie Aphrodite from the pier and raise the anchor and you are all good to go!

With the small gusts of winds every now and then, it would take about 6 to 7 hours for you to make it to your destination. That is if there is no storm, headwind, or pirates that you have to worry about. Crossing Captain Barnes is on your list of “most feared encounters” and you could not imagine getting stuck with him, let alone see him. Rumors say he lost his arm to the Kraken and used the gold from a found treasure to make a new arm. A much more dangerous one than he already had.

The thought of seeing him gives you chills in of itself, so you decide to put your mind to something else. You begin to steer the boat in the direction of your destination, your blue navy-themed sailing dress your mother made you flowing in the wind. You smile as the smell of salt and cold water fills your nose, the ocean and wind guiding you in the right direction.

~~~~~~~~ 3 hours later ~~~~~~~~

The clouds had come out of nowhere, casting a large, dark shadow over Aphrodite. The wind was skin-biting and strong, the waves getting unruly as she becomes angry with something. What? You had no idea. You had prepared for this, but the worst thing that could happen happened.

As you put on your dark blue cloak to keep warm, a large wave crashed over your boat. With much luck, Aphrodite held strong and pulled back up from the water. Raindrops soaked your clothes as well as waves that rolled over the surface of your boat. As you were pulling on the sails, you froze in fear. A colossal wave formed. Bigger than anything you have seen, towering over you. At this point, you knew your fate and you fully accepted it.

As the wave crashed over your boat, the water engulfed you into a frigid and bitter hug. The sheer force of this wave cracked your beautiful boat in two, ripped the sails a part as if it was cut by scissors, and lastly shredded your near-perfect map to shreds. It was a saddening sight to see to anyone on the outside.

As your vision fades to black, numbness takes over your system and you are finally at rest.

Or so you thought.

“Is she ok? She- Oh she’s breathing! She looks ok, just a little roughed up.”

‘Squawk!’

“She’s a human! She’s beautiful, she looks so cute in this little dress of hers.”

‘Squawk!’

“Can we keep her?”

A pause…

“Let's bring her inside, but we have to make sure she doesn’t escape. Grab some of the rope from her boat, that will hold her.”

“She scared? She scared?” The animal squawked.

“For certain…”

The voices were faded and muffled, and you felt like you were held in a bubble. Everything was quiet. The voices were smooth, siren-like, minus the power. There was something dark in the woman’s voice that hovered over you. There was something in her voice that sounded almost… dark and evil. As if she had malicious intentions with you.

Your eyes fluttered open at the sound of waves crashing against the sand, but you were not on the beach anymore. You were in a cave, a dark, cold, dreary cave. With a pounding in your head, you moved your hand to your temple. Well, tried to. You look to your left, letting your eyes get used to the darkness and you see rings of rope around your wrist, holding you to a rusty bed frame. Looking to your right you see the same.

Struggling was your first instinct, but you were frozen in place. It was fear taking over your body and you didn’t know what else to do. There wasn’t much you could do in your state. It was so cold, and you couldn’t find a way to get warm.

“H-hello?” Your voice echoes in the abyss of the dark cave in front of you and you have yet to hear anything other than that. But moments later, other voices fill the cavern's echos.

“I wonder when she will wake up, oh I sure hope it’s soon.” One voice said. Were they talking about me? You think to yourself.

“Well, when she does, it will be quite the surprise don’t you think?” That voice, it was the voice that sounded evil…

In an instant, the dark cave was filled with lowly lit torches. From what you could see was a room full of different trinkets, a makeshift vanity with a sea-glass mirror, shelf portions of the cave filled with sea shells, and lastly her.

A beautiful woman walks into the cave carrying what looks to be wood, sail rope, some canvas sails, and cloth. It took you a moment to realize that these were parts of Aphrodite. Your precious boat.

“Ah, she’s awake.” The woman says to her accomplice, a parrot on her shoulder.

“Awake! Awake! Awake! Awake!” The parrot responds, making the woman let out a soft chuckle.

“Please, let me go!” You plead.

“No, you are mine now and I get to do what I please,” She gives you a smug smile and sets her trinkets and shells down on her vanity. You watch her carefully, salty tears falling down your cheeks as you pull at the ropes around your wrists. “There is no coming out of those ropes, darling. I know how to tie a good knot” She emphasizes the ’t’, making you jump slightly in response.

“Such a curious creature humans are. They move around on these water contraptions just to go see another piece of land. Can you imagine that?” She says, chuckling at her own question. “Well of course you can, you were doing just that!” She moves towards the makeshift seaweed and canvas bed and sits on the edge.

“I have yet to see a real human up close and see what they are really like. How much pain and torture they can take, just like my sisters had to endure.”

Her intentions scared you, and her smirk told you that she already knew that. “P-please don’t hur-” she cut you off with a laugh and a mockery of your fear.

“Puh puh puh, please! Oh don’t be so cute, I love hearing screams of fear…” She leans close to your face, her tongue sliding against your cheek and picking up a tear. “Mmmm, tastes so good. I can’t wait to taste the rest of you.” You whimper as her eyes turn bright red and before you know it, the clothes are ripped from your body leaving you nude, cold, and exposed. You flail your feet attempting to kick her, but she quickly pins them down and wraps more rope around them, connecting them to the bed posts at the bottom.

She shakes her head at your action and gently slides her fingers over your now exposed belly, “Nuh uh, none of that. We don’t need anyone else to get hurt, right?” You shiver in response, making her smile grow even bigger. “Oh, so you feel me…” She realizes and she runs her fingers up your belly, and to the valley of your breasts.

Your reactions are very minimal at first, but then she starts going in other directions. “Hmm, I have little buttons like these too, I wonder what yours do?” She moves and grazes her fingers over your nipple, making you shudder. A new feeling has come to you, and the woman takes note. “Ah, how interesting. This little bud of skin is much more sensitive than the skin over here…” She does the same motion of rolling her fingers but with just a small section of skin from your breast.

“What if we do both?” She inquires, moving both her hands above your breasts. Taking both nipples in her fingers, she smiles at your reaction of curling in on yourself. The little noises you make are what set her off. “Wow, how amazing,” She whispers, smirking at your reaction. As you whine and shake your body slightly, you try to get her off of you, but she is just pulled towards you again.

“Someone is a little feisty,” She slaps your breast harshly and you yelp in pain. She chuckles and stands up. “Now let me introduce myself. I am Wanda, and as you can see I take the shape of a human, like you. But I am nothing of the kind. I have morals.” She pauses, and moves between your spread-open legs. “When I got the ability to use my shapeshifting power, I first wanted to try to be human. Just to see what it feels like to walk and run. I liked it at first, but then came this feeling that I can’t describe. It is like a fire was lit right here,” she puts her hand just above your lower regions, goosebumps pebbling at the touch of her skin on yours.

“There was nothing I could do to put it out. So I explored down there… I have a button down there just like up here,” She rolls your nipples in her fingers once again, making you whine in protest. “Oh, my Poseidon… it felt heavenly when I rubbed it just right. I thought the feeling would never end! But then it did… it felt like I exploded. It was like getting caught in a wave, only to fall back down into warm water again.” She smiles down at you from her spot between your legs.

“I want to see if you feel it too.” She smirks and you whimper as you pull at the restraints around your limbs. Dismissing you, her fingers spread your slick petals and she gently rubs around the top of your pussy. A soft moan emits from your mouth and she gasps. “Oh, I think I found your button too,” Wanda continues to rub your clit, loving every single reaction from your mouth. With curiosity, she pokes at your entrance with her fingers. When she enters her fingers into your wet cunt, the moan from your mouth is beautiful.

“That was beautiful, I need to see more!” She exclaims and starts to move her fingers in and out of your hole while rubbing your clit. With never feeling these things before, you are like an exposed nerve and are oh, so, sensitive.

You soon start to feel what she was describing, the fire, the riding up the wave, and after seconds, the falling from that wave and into warm water. As you cum, she smiles at the feeling of your walls clenching around her fingers. “It feels nice, doesn’t it…” she states, not addressing it as a question. You vigorously shake your head, denying her. She smirks, knowing deep down you absolutely love it.

The ropes burn your limbs and you were tired. But Wanda was far from done. She had so much more planned as she was infatuated with your pussy and how it pulsed around her fingers. “Should we see how many more of these little episodes we can see today?”

“N-no! No, please no more, I- I want to go home, please,” You beg, knowing deep down you most likely won’t make it out of here. Not without a fight. Already you were scheming how you could possibly escape her, but your thoughts were shut down as Wandas' fingers intruded your hole at a fast rate. Her fingers moved in and out of your cunt, a burning feeling bubbling inside of you once again.

“Oh, you’re so wet down here, little one. I swear if I go too fast, there may be a tidal wave coming at me.” She smirks at her words, not slowing her pace as she curls her fingers in a ‘come hither’ motion. Your moans were music to her ears, like putting a sea shell to one's ear and hearing the beauty of the ocean on the other side.

Failing miserably, you try to quiet your moans. But the feelings are just too intense for you to handle. She leans down as she continues to pump her fingers inside of you and smiles as she licks along your red, hot clit. Your legs jolt once a more sensitive wave of pleasure falls over you, her tongue moving expertly over your little bud. Your back arches as much as it can with the bonds keeping you down and you try to enjoy your current state under Wandas' domination.

In a matter of seconds, you are crumbling at the feel of Wandas' three fingers inside of you as well as her tongue licking your clit over and over again. Cumming a second time was even more of an experience. You saw white as your orgasm came crashing over you once again. Whimpers come out of your mouth as tears are falling down your cheeks. It’s too much, and your cunt feels like it's on fire.

Finally, Wanda has had enough, and she lets out a sigh as she looks down at your abused petals. “Aw, look how red you are. You must be so sensitive, hm?” She chuckles at your fucked out sounds as she grazes your clit with the back of a finger, your hips pulling away in retaliation. You whimper as she suddenly stands up, her other fingers leaving your hole in an instant. You shudder at the emptiness, letting out a sob as your emotions take control of your body again.

“Sweetheart, don’t cry, we have just barely begun.” Her smile is malicious and full of evil. There is nothing welcoming about her smile, almost like the waxing gibbous, right before a full moon. Only a sliver of a smile of the night sky, then the werewolves come out. Her teeth were sharp but smooth enough to look human. But she was far from human.

You found out she was a mermaid while she let you roam the beach a little bit. All she gave you for clothing was a paper bag-type dress made out of the canvas of your sails, and a rope around your middle as a belt. She took the chains from the anchor of your boat and kept it around your ankle, the other end under a very heavy bolder that she moved with her powers.

While you stayed on the beach, chained to the rock that gave you the shade you needed, Wanda was hunting. There was a little bit of forest above the cave you both took shelter in, but she warned you to never go in there. Well, not without her. You were curious as to know if there was danger, or if she just didn’t want you out of her sight. But it was easy to say, she did not want you going anywhere.

Sitting on the beach was the little bit of freedom that you looked forward to every day. One hundred and eighty-two (182) days of being in Wandas' captivity. You learned on day seven (7) to never run away from her. She will make everything hurt. She will take everything away from you if you try to take yourself away from her.

On day seven (7), you found a way to rub the chain links together and break the loop off of your foot. Making sure she was in the water, you made a run for it on the wet sand of the beach. Trying to go around the island and then out into the ocean was your goal. Wanda sensed you were gone the second the chain broke. It was no use trying to swim away from a mermaid.

She caught up with you in a matter of seconds, her webbed tail making her swim much faster than you; A mere human. She grabbed your ankle from underneath the water, dragging you down to the ocean floor. Not too deep as she knows the pressure builds, but deep enough where you would not be able to escape. She smiled as you thrashed against her iron grip, your arms trying desperately to reach the surface, and the last few bubbles exited your mouth as you finally fell unconscious.

Once you were out, she pulled you to the beach, getting the water from your lungs and making sure you are breathing again. She sent a wave of energy over your body, keeping you in an unconscious state. Picking you up, your head hung over her arm as your legs hung over her other arm. She looked at your sleeping face in slight disappointment as you were doing so good the few days before this. She knew that the time outside was going to be limited as part of the punishment she was going to give you.

Laying you on the bed, she gathers a few trinkets she has found. Including a sewing kit. She looked over your body and stripped you of your canvas dress. She laced the rope around your arms and fastened them to the rusty bars above your head. Angrily, she stares, thinking of the things she is going to do to you when you wake up. She growls and pounces on top of you, grabbing your legs and putting them together. She takes more rope from your boat and wraps your thighs and ankles, rendering you unable to walk.

Now comes the painful part; She threads the thread through the eye of the needle and pinches the skin of your thigh. Carefully she puts the needle through your skin, puncturing through the layers mercilessly. As she pulls the thread through the hole in your skin, she meticulously sews your legs together in an intricate zig-zag shape from your left leg to your right leg. Once she gets to just above the rope around your ankles she hums at her work, making sure that you won’t be able to pull the thread out of your legs, even if you tried as hard as you could.

Waving her hand takes away the power keeping you unconscious, and she makes her way out of the cave, not wanting to hear your screams as you realize what she had done to you. Of course, she loved to hear you scream, but not in pain. It was never meant to be this way. If you had just listened and stayed where you were put, this never would have happened. As she transforms into her mermaid form, she dives into the ocean to cool off as she was much too angry to argue with you, worried she would kill you in the snap of a finger if you said the wrong thing to her.

You started to come to, becoming more and more aware of your surroundings by the second. Once again, you tried to move, only to be stopped by the ropes around your wrists, but there was much more than what was done to you last time. You looked to the source of the tension of your legs and your panic set in. Screams of pain and horror echoed through the cave, tears and sobs were heard for miles outside of the cave, and Wanda was nowhere near where she could hear them.

~~~~~~~

More than a few hours later, your sobs had calmed to nothing more than whimpers. Your legs were screaming in pain, blood dripping from each of the holes Wanda's needle had made, soaking the thread and keeping them together. You closed your eyes, hoping that someone would find you, help you, kill you. But your wishes were only met with more fear.

As Wanda entered the cave, she had a whole net of fish, more shells, and trinkets from the ocean floor, as well as the part of your ship you were going to miss the most: The picture of you, your father, and your mother. It was still in its gold-plated frame, the monotone black and white of the picture still prominent. “I brought you a couple things,” Wanda says, unapologetically. Setting the net down, she places a pink and coral-colored conch shell next to you on the bed, the picture, and what looks like a shell necklace that she put together herself.

You did not acknowledge her in the slightest. From the moment she walked into the cave, to the moment she begged you to talk to her. She even untied your arms and helped you sit up, but you didn’t say a word. In a fit of rage, she throws your body against the bed, letting you curl against yourself as you try to undo the thread.

“It's not going to come off. I put a spell on it, and until you talk to me, it will stay that way. Do you understand?” She holds your chin in her hands, her sharp nails digging into your soft, beautiful skin. You whimper in response, tears pooling in your eyes. A few fall, but Wanda is quick to wipe them away as you look up at her. She gives you a soft smile and your brows furrow. This smile is different, it's out of pity, and out of a different type of intent. “Please, say something…” She whispers, tears of her own filling her eyes.

“Wh-why did you do this to me?” You whimper, pulling your hands away from the thread and to your chest to cover yourself.

“Because you ran away… I told you to stay here, and you disobeyed me. This never would have happened if you just stayed, and enjoyed the sun like I so generously allowed you!”

Her eyes close, and she covers them with her hand. As she removes her hand, she sits down on the bed and her eyes soften as she looks at you. “I never wanted this to happen, love. You are mine, but I never wanted to hurt you.”

"All you are is a liar..." You respond, with no emotion in your voice, eyes, or heart. Wanda sighs and helps you sit up once again.

“My love for you is not a lie.” She says, moving to the floor as your legs drape over the side of the bed. She unties your thighs and ankles, her hands glowing a soft red color. Your legs lose feeling for only a moment, and you watch in awe as the thread is removed without pain or discomfort. It floats out of your skin, and the holes where it once was were closed. “Please forgive me, my little human. I won’t do this unless you make me angry. You won’t be punished if you don’t do something punishable. Do you understand me?”

You nod softly as the feeling returns to your legs. You stand up, as does Wanda. You stumble at first, but you slowly make your way out of the cave and over to the rock where your chain lay. You wrap the chain around your ankle and hold it up for Wanda to seal with her magic. She looks at you, confused.

“What are you doing?” She asks.

You sigh and you hold up your foot again. “Im showing you I can be good. That I can keep a promise of being good.” She understands and seals the lock over the two open links. You stand up again, and you make your way to the water. You have already accepted the fact that will rip the dress off of you when you get back inside anyway, so you stand in the sun, bathing in the warmth as you stand nude. You are grateful that the chain grants you the length to reach the water.

The waves make you sway slightly, and you close your eyes. Your destiny has proven itself, and you were to stay captive with Wanda.

Soon enough, day three hundred sixty-five (365) hits and you are smiling with Wanda. Happily letting her devour you every night to her heart's desire, as well as shower you with gifts and jewels she finds on her hunting trips. In a form of trust, you both agree to a collar around your neck. One that claims you as well as keeps you on the island when Wanda is away. It was a way for Wanda to make sure you were safe, and a way for you to feel secure in someone's watch. And if any pirates come to the island, it would notify Wanda if you were in danger.

She loved to see you in the sun, the jewels around your neck shimmering in the bright sunlight above you. A bright ruby right at the center of your neck, represents the love that Wanda has gifted upon you. Every morning when you woke up in her arms, you felt safe and sound, and no longer in danger of her. Of course, you were never going to make it home to Eleanore, so you threw a bottle with a letter in it into the ocean hoping that it finds her well.

Yours and Wandas' routine grew every day, her even letting you go for a swim. She would transform into her mermaid form, and you would hold onto her shoulders as she sped through the water at speeds you have never felt before. On other days, she would take you to the edge of the forest above her cave. She told you stories of the cannibals that lived among the trees but willingly agreed to keep on their side of the island and never venture past the river about a mile into the grove of trees.

You would tell stories of when you sailed with your father and cooked with your mother. Wanda loved to hear about humans and the hobbies or skills you can acquire with the right supplies and practice. She was infatuated with humans just as she was with you.

One of your favorite things to do with Wanda was lay out on the sand at night, a soft seaweed blanket underneath you both, the water reflecting the moon, and the stars shimmering above you. For every shooting star there was, you would point to it and give Wanda a soft kiss on her cheek, making her smile and return the kiss. That was a nightly ritual you both had and when the both of you had soaked up the moonlight for the perfect amount of time, she would take you inside and make love to you. She would worship you, and care for you. She gave you meaning in a world where you had no one else to be there for.

She loved you.

Your keeper loves you, yet you love her too.

#dusktilldawnchallenge #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x you #Mermaid!Wanda Maximoff x Sailor!Reader #dusktilldawnwritingchallenge #Dark!wanda x reader #WICW #wanda x reader #Within cold water #Wanda maximoff series #Heed the warnings #Wanda Maximoff smut #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff x female!reader #wanda maximoff fan fiction #scarlet witch #the scarlet witch #wanda x you

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ellethespaceunicorn · 2 months

Text

The Howling in Claw Creek Forest, Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven: Marked By The Wolf

Rating: Mature, 18+, Minors – DNI

Pairing: Werewolf!Walter Marshall x Reader

Word Count: ~4.8K (ya waited extra-long; ya get an extra-long chapter)

Series Summary: You live in a small town called Claw Creek, surrounded by a deep, dark forest. Since you were a kid, an urban legend of the creature in the woods has been told. If the distant howls at night and mutilated livestock are anything to go by, you fear the stories to be true.

Chapter Summary: It’s the night of the full moon. The plan? Invite Sy over to the cabin to keep an eye on him in case he shifts. WCGW?

Warnings: verbal fight, angst

A/N: Thank you for being patient with me, guys! And I see y’all reblogging the masterlist for the series. And I thank you so much for keeping this story alive! A special thank you to @peyton-warren for being my lovely beta and soundboard for this. Cuz ya girl was struggling with this chapter for many moons.

Dividers by me

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

Over the next day or so, you get to know Jace. You’d learned his full first name, but “only ko’u makuahine calls me Jason”. Growing up in Hawaii shaped the man he is today, and he misses home a lot. But with Walter in his pack, and being Faye’s godfather, he’s made his own little family.

For a while, it seems like he may be flirting with you. But that quickly fades into something else. You’re only mildly upset when he refers to you as kaikuahine. Firstly, because you had no idea what it meant. Secondly, because when you found out it meant ‘sister’, you had to remind yourself that you have a perfectly great werewolf boyfriend of your own already.

‘Calm down, girl,’ you thought, thinking of your eager beaver.

Walter notices the way your demeanor changes and takes your hand, leading you upstairs. Your confusion only amuses Jace, who seems to know something you don’t. Once you make it into Walter’s bedroom, you are spun against the door. He attacks your neck, licking and nipping at the sensitive flesh until you tangle your fingers in his chestnut curls. Your mind reels, wondering what’s gotten into him.

And then it hits you.

He’s…jealous!

Oh, this is too good. That’s twice tonight that he’s been struck with jealousy. Earlier with Sy’s thirst trap and now with your flirtatious nature. You are beyond flattered, but you refuse to let this man get too far gone. With your hand in his hair, you tighten your fingers and pry him from your neck.

Once his face is in front of yours, you notice his wild eyes where black replaces blue. He looks ready to eat you, and as much as you would like that, you decide to try and calm the beast within.

“Walter, baby? I need you to calm down for a sec,” you beg, both hands tangling in his hair to soothe his soul, “Come on back to me, baby.”

Blinking once, then twice, his eyes finally focus on you, and the trance is gone. His giant paws rush to your face and then to the tender skin of your neck where his teeth were grazing. He winces when you grimace at the feel of his thumb on your sore flesh.

“Pup, I am so sorry. I don’t know what got into me. I was−”

“Jealous?” you supply, already knowing what this was.

“I can’t help it. I haven’t felt this way in a long time. It’s jealousy, sure. But it feels deeper than that. I felt the need to mark you as mine. You’re sort of a natural flirt, you know that?” he probes, a soft smile on his face.

“Well, I mean, I can see that. I guess I’ve never really thought about it. No one has ever brought it up,” you explain, looking back on all the times that men thought you were flirting with them but were just being nice.

“Don’t worry about it. I just wanted to make sure that Jace knew you were taken. He has an effect on women,” he expresses, “But it seems he only sees you as a sister, so I don’t have to worry about you two riding off into the sunset, now do I?”

“Wow, that was kinda bitchy. But also, incredibly hot that you thought I could be influenced by another big pretty werewolf,” you tease, leaning up on your tippy toes to place a kiss on the end of his nose before pushing back from the door so you could open it and leave.

“You think he’s pretty?” Walter shouts after you.

You laugh, swiftly jogging down the stairs to find an equally amused Jace sitting on the couch with his feet up on the coffee table, perfectly at home.

Trying to keep yourself from feeling embarrassed, you plop down next to him on the couch. While you are snuggling into his side, he chuckles and jokes that you should watch out for “the big, bad wolf”. Just as the words leave his mouth, Walter appears on the other side of you, having leapt over the couch. You’re officially squeezed in between the two large wolves, and you suddenly feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

Between the warmth radiating from both men, the way they commented on the Forged in Fire episode playing in the background, and the long day finally catching up with you, you had no choice but to fall asleep. You remember leaning your head against Jace’s beefy shoulder after he splayed both arms along the back of the couch. At some point during the night, you awake to find yourself sprawled across both of their laps. Your head is in Walter’s lap and your blanket-covered feet are shoved under Jace’s thigh.

The television screen asking if you’re still watching illuminates the faces of the snoring wolves at either side of you. Walter’s hand on your shoulder twitches as he feels you shifting. Shuffling your ankles, Jace sleepily readjusts to give you room before lowering his thigh back over your feet. All of this was done while they were asleep as if it was second nature to want to keep you safe and warm.

And you weren’t going to complain about being in a literal wolf pile. Instead, you snuggle into your blanket and let yourself drift off again.

When you awaken, the mid-morning sun is flooding through the windows. You’re still on the couch, but no longer surrounded by your wolf-shaped furnaces. Getting up from the couch, you wrap the blanket around your shoulders and go in search of coffee.

Shuffling into the kitchen, you brush past where Walter is plating some waffles. You make it to the coffee machine and pour yourself a cup, adding in your sugar and cream and stirring it until it hits that perfect shade. Taking that first sip is nirvana. As the temperature of the hot beverage slides down your throat, you are warmed from the inside out. Now, you can officially say you have woken up.

You turn around to lean against the counter and are surprised to see both wolves looking at you and smiling. “What?”

“Oh, nothing. Just we were trying to get your attention, but I see Walter was right about you loving java. You have your priorities straight, is all,” Jace winks at you before sipping his coffee.

Walter chuckles and shoves a plateful of waffles, bacon, and eggs to one of the empty seats and nods for you to eat. “Don’t worry, Pup. I think it’s cute that you need your morning fuel before intelligent social interaction.”

“Thanks, Wolfie,” you hum, leaning in to peck him on the cheek before sitting down to tuck into your plate.

“And the nicknames are elevating my sugar levels as we speak,” Jace teases, expertly catching the waffle that Walter throws his way.

“Look, Jace and I have an idea. We just need you to put the pieces in motion,” Walter begins, explaining the plan to you while you eat. You stayed mostly silent, letting him lay everything out.

Jace pops in here and there with a few tweaks when he sees you start to feel a bit overwhelmed, “If at any time you feel uncomfortable, don’t hesitate. We’re there in case anything happens.”

“I guess I have a call to make. Oh, and do you fellas think you can go grocery shopping? I need a few things if I wanna make sure I have enough to feed all of you,” you lament, factoring in that Sy used to eat you out of house and home on multiple occasions. Might as well have too much than too little. You give Wolfie and Jace your shopping list and head upstairs to shower and make a very important phone call.

Early evening rolls in and you are relishing the smell of your pot roast with vegetables simmering as it permeates the first floor of the house. Wolfie has been at your side for most of the afternoon and even now because you’ve been like a chicken with your head cut off, anxious nerves making you fuss over every little thing.

And he couldn’t blame you for being on high alert. He did ask you to invite over your ex-fiancé during a full moon, under the guise of getting together for a football game, so that he and Jace could find out if Sy is a werewolf. ‘A simple plan,’ said no one in this situation.

Olivia was invited over to help you set up and possibly help you with cooking. But alas, fair Olivia has found her Prince Charming in Jace. And just as Walter said, he does have an effect on women. You have to stop and giggle to yourself as she throws her head back in laughter and touches his arm, her signature move. Great, those two can swoon each other all night while you try and keep the peace between a wolf and a hard place.

The roast was not going to cook any faster with you standing over the crock pot, so you step away from the kitchen and join the others as they sit in the living room. Jace and Liv sit on the couch as Walter sits in one of the loungers. Just as you sit down to rest your bones in the other chair, you notice the guys exchanging a look.

You hear the rumble of Sy’s old pickup and your heart drops into your stomach. You shoot up from your seat and adjust your turtleneck dress that hugs your body like a glove before walking to the front door. You step outside as Sy is pulling into the driveway. Swallowing your apprehension, you walk across the lawn to meet him.

Smiling as he exits his truck, Sy wraps you up in a bear hug. When he lifts you off the ground, you squeak, and he just laughs before putting you back down. You get a whiff of him, and you feel an instant urge to bury your nose in his neck, or his perfectly trimmed beard. Fighting that urge, you playfully swat at Sy’s meaty, flannel-clad bicep and try not to stare at his veiny forearms.

The man always had great arms; you would have complimented him on them once upon a time. But that was a long time ago, and even though you wanted to devour him where he stood, you weren’t about to let him know that. His head was big enough without you adding your horniness to it.

He steps to the truck bed and reaches a hand in to pick up a case of your favorite beer. He seems pretty pleased with himself and not at all nervous about meeting your new boyfriend. You should’ve known better than to think he would miss the opportunity to annoy your current beau.

You lead him inside where he immediately sniffs the air and exclaims, “Oh, my God! Please tell me that is your pot roast.”

You feel heat rise to your cheeks and nervously reply, “Um, yeah. It’s probably just about done if you want some.”

“If I want some? Of course, it’s my favorite meal,” Sy earnestly comments, and you can’t help but bashfully thank him.

A throat is cleared, and Walter appears at your side, planting a nuzzling kiss on your neck as he snakes an arm around you, making you giggle.

“Walter, this is Sy. Sy, this is Walter, my boyfriend,” you introduce them, smiling to yourself as they offer a hand for a handshake and exchange pleasantries.

“Pleasure ta meetcha, Walter.” “Likewise, Sy.”

They were still shaking each other’s hands until you realized they were having a staring contest.

“Seriously?!” you gripe, equally mad at both of them, “You’re both grown men, right?” You push through their still-joined hands and go into the kitchen.

Olivia rises from the couch and admonishes them as well, “Good going, guys,” as she follows you into the kitchen.

“What?” they say in unison, looking at the only other man in the room. Jace shakes his head, looking between the two of them and taking a pull off his beer.

Walter walks into the kitchen, already apologizing as he approaches where you are sitting at the table. He takes your hand in his and holds it against his chest. It’s less what he says, and more of how he says it. He sounds genuine and he means every word. You peck him on the cheek, forgiving him. Olivia makes sure to tease you about how cute you two are.

Sy saunters in once Walter exits, placing the case of beer on the kitchen counter before opening it, removing two bottles, and handing one to you. Clinking the neck of his bottle against yours, he uncaps his and takes and takes a long pull. Taking a long look at you, he leans back and surveys your level of anger, trying to assess exactly how mad you are.

“Walter seems nice,” he starts in that fatherly tone that always gets a smile out of you.

You shake your head and laugh despite yourself wanting to be mad at him. “You know, he actually is very nice. Just give him a chance to surprise you before you hate his guts, ok? That’s all I ask.”

“Oh, is that all? Easy peasy lemon squeezy,” he grumbles, pouting for a second. “Look, I’ll be on my best behavior like Church on Sunday if I can get some of that pot roast.” He turns those blue topaz eyes on you, and you’re putty in his hands, suddenly wishing Liv wasn’t in the room to watch that little moment.

You rise from your seat, dishing out some of the roast and potatoes and carrots onto a plate for Sy, and place it in front of him. You light up when he closes his eyes at the first bite. His groan of satisfaction is more than enough to signal that you did a great job. But the pat he gives your knee is so warm and so intimate that your muscles instantly react to his touch, wishing it lingered for a second more.

“Liv, can Sy and I have a second to talk?” you plead, hoping that she would give you some space.

“Sure. I’ll just go back to fawning over Jace. He’s so pretty I wanna cry,” she professes, patting your shoulder as she exits the kitchen.

Your eyes follow Olivia as she leaves, and then they snap back to where Sy is sitting smiling at you. And you know this particular smile well.

“Sy, why are you smiling at me like that? You said you would be on your best behavior and that smile is not your best behavior,” you sigh, rolling your eyes, “I know that smile got me to do a lot of things back in the day.”

“A lot of fun things come to mind,” he murmurs, bringing his beer up to his lips to drain before rising to get another and lean on the counter, “But that is not why I’m here tonight. Don’t worry, I’m only here to make sure my favorite girl’s being taken care of. I will be a perfect gentleman, even to yer old man.”

Rising from your seat, you finally open your beer and stand next to him. Taking a sip, you bump his shoulder with yours. “One question I have for you. Why did you agree to come over? I mean, you could have hung up the phone or cursed me out when I asked you over to spend time with me. At my boyfriend’s cabin. In the woods. Just saying that now makes me wonder what was going through your head.”

“Not gonna lie, I loved seeing you the other day. Even though you weren’t exactly pleased to see me, you still told me to be careful out there in the woods. Look, I like having you in my life. If that means I have you as a friend, it’s much better than not having you at all,” he confesses, and your world shatters around you when you look up into his eyes and see his sincerity.

You open your mouth to speak but the words won’t take shape and you’re left looking for the answer in his face. The eyes you got lost in a million times before. The lips you kissed every chance you got. Standing this close, you can breathe each other’s breath. If you only stood on your tippy-toes and leaned in, you’d be right−

“Am I interrupting something?” Olivia’s voice snaps you back to reality and you put some space between you and Sy. She walks in between you two to grab another beer. She gives Sy a look before turning her attention to you, “Your boyfriend’s wondering where you are, bee-tee-dubs.” She throws out her arm, gesturing for you to lead the way back to the living room instead of finishing your conversation. You miss her giving Sy another pointed stare before following you out.

The night goes on as planned, at first. You all watch a college football game, Walter’s alma mater vs their rivals, who just happen to be Sy’s alma mater. You and Sy met after college, and he mentioned having played lacrosse, but he’s never shown interest in football. Until tonight, of course.

It’s been a long time since you and Sy spent time together, but you know his temperament. And he’s off. He doesn’t look like himself either, as if he’s covering up something. With the way that Walter and Jace keep sharing looks, you see he is on their radar as well.

Olivia and Jace occupy the two loungers, so you are sitting in between Walter and Sy on the couch. How lucky! You’re in the perfect spot to listen to Sy rooting loudly for his team and making snide comments all because he doesn’t wanna sit next to you and your new boyfriend.

Walter, on the other hand, is quiet for the most part but trembling with anger. He’s letting Sy get to him, and you can’t stand it anymore. You’re suddenly jealous of Olivia who fell asleep halfway into the game.

You unwrap yourself from around Walter and turn to Sy. “Kitchen. Now.”

He doesn’t answer and mutely follows you, taken aback when you turn on him once you’re both in the kitchen.

“What the hell are you doing? You are being such an ass. I’m trying to hold out an olive branch, but you are not meeting me in the middle, Sy,” you snap, feeling like you could spit fire.

“And why did you even invite me? To parade your new man all over me? I thought maybe we could try and be friends, but now I see all you wanna do is remind me that I wasn’t good enough for you,” Sy erupts, his voice booming and full of rage.

“That’s not fair,” you gasp.

“All’s fair in love, Bug,” he cautions, sweat starting to drip down his forehead, “Look, I’m gonna go before either of us says something we’ll regret.” He turns and storms out of the kitchen before you can step any closer to him, but you are on his tail when he steps out of the front door.

You reach him, putting your hand on his shoulder as you try to stop him. He turns back to you, his eyes closed in a pained expression. His skin is flushed as he rips open his flannel, making it easier for you to see his Adonis belt just above his jeans. The bite mark is nowhere to be seen, having already healed. When he starts to hyperventilate, you try to soothe him by calling his name. Fast as lightning, Walter appears between you and Sy.

“Sy, you have to try and stay calm. You aren’t making this easy on yourself. Let it happen,” Walter holds his hands out, showing he means no harm as he tries to step closer to Sy. Walter starts to shift after removing his sweater and jeans.

“Back off, man,” Sy warns, feeling like he could explode with the heat beneath his skin.

“You can do this, just open your eyes,” Walter replies, before his mouth becomes a snout and talking is impossible.

But when Sy finally opens his eyes, they start to glow. His neck twists at a freakish angle, the sounds of bones crunching has you terrified. Reddish-brown fur sprouts out of his skin as his hands stretch into clawed paws. His confused screams are horrifying. Jace’s booming voice is talking over his cries, talking him through the transformation.

Doubling over, Sy grunts in agony as he falls on all fours. Letting out a howl, his jeans fall away as he transforms for the first time. You scream, taking a step back when he sniffs the air and he takes one step toward you.

Sy paces back and forth in front of Walter, seeming to weigh his options. Walter’s wolf form stands an inch or two taller than Sy as he puts distance between you and the new wolf.

Just as the tension is insurmountable, a throat is cleared, and you all look to see Jace standing in the driveway. Nonchalant, but his eyes keenly take in the scene in front of him as he nods at Walter. Olivia is at Jace’s side, dumbfounded by what she is witnessing. When she notices that rumbling sound coming from Jace is him growling, she throws away fear in place of curiosity.

The two wolves are kicking dust up with their feet, squaring off until Jace steps a bit closer to back up his brother. Sy had a chance of maybe beating Walter. But a new wolf up against two bonded brother wolves? No way in hell.

You step in between the three of them. Holding out your hands, you plead with them not to fight. Walter’s nose nudges at your legs and he huffs in Sy’s face. Walter shifts back, picking up his jeans to put back on, and crossing his arms across his massive chest.

Walter and Jace move closer to Sy as he snarls at them until he sees you, clinging to Olivia. Tears fall from your eyes and something inside of Sy breaks. Looking to you, he can see the fear on your face and you wonder if that is what causes him to want to shift back into human form. The two brothers talk Sy down, telling him how to return to human form.

Once his bones have settled and the whining howls stop, Sy is in the fetal position on the lawn. Shivering, sweaty, and scared. His clothes are ruined, but you think you remember seeing a blanket in the truck bed earlier. You ask Olivia to get the blanket while you caress Sy’s face.

Once the blanket is around his middle, you accept help from Walter to lift him up. Sy uses his last ounce of energy to push Walter away.

Coming back to himself, Sy refocuses his anger on Walter. “This has nothing to do with you. Gonna need you to step aside,” Sy fumes, cranky from the changes he doesn’t understand he’s going through.

“That’s just not gonna happen. Maybe if you weren’t trying to move in on what’s mine, I’d be sorry for what I’ve done,” Walter seethes, “After all, I’m the one that bit you.”

You and Sy are both in a state of shock but for different reasons. Sy just found out werewolves are real, and your boyfriend just referred to you as “what’s his'.

“You did this to me?” Sy’s rage peaks.

“Hey, hey. Focus on my voice, come back. You don’t wanna do this,” you trail off as Sy calms down.

His irises are back to their brilliant blue and you can see recognition in them. He looks tired, but he is no worse for wear.

“Can we get outta here? Go someplace we can just…talk?” Sy insists.

You think for a second about how pissed you are at Walter for being extremely callous about turning Sy, not to mention talking about you as if you were a piece of property to be owned. You turn to look back at Walter before answering Sy.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” you affirm, putting one of Sy’s arms around your neck to help him walk back to his truck.

You watch Jace stand in front of Walter to stop him from following after you. “Let her cool off, you did just kinda refer to her as ‘what’s mine’, and generally women don’t like that outside of the bedroom.”

Olivia steps over to Walter, putting a hand on his shoulder, her expression calm and collected. “He won’t hurt her. He cares too much about her to do that.”

You get into the driver’s seat after putting Sy in the passenger side, not allowing him to drive. You caution a glance at Walter, instantly regretting looking at his mournful face. Turning the car on, you back out of the driveway and drive out to Sy’s place.

As you drive there from muscle memory, you look over at Sy now and then. The streetlights of the town dash across his solemn face and bare chest as he sleeps. You almost don’t want to wake him when you make it to his house, he looks so peaceful and not like his life has been turned upside-down. You wake him with the back of your hand smoothing down his face. He grabs it, lost for a moment before he sees your face and where he is.

You help him get inside and suddenly feel exhausted as well. You loiter in the living room while he grabs a glass of water from the kitchen. You didn’t really plan how you were going to get back to Walter’s cabin tonight. And if you’re honest with yourself, you don’t want to go back tonight.

Sy comes back out, gulping down water from his glass while holding the blanket low around his middle.

“Is it okay if we wait to talk? I’m tired as hell. I’ll take the couch if that’s alright?” You ask, sitting down on the couch and starting to move the pillows.

“You’re not staying out here. You’re sleeping in the bedroom. I’ll take the couch. I’ll grab you something to sleep in,” he rattles on, moving to the bedroom as you stand from the couch and look at your feet.

Sy comes back out to the living room. He’s barefoot, shirtless, and in a pair of grey sweatpants. He just can’t help himself, you think.

“I left you a shirt and some shorts on the bed. Let me know if you need anything, alright?” he advises, using a hand on the small of your back to guide you to the bedroom.

You laugh when you see Sy left you his Mötley Crüe shirt. While putting on the shirt and the boxers, you look at the bed and you know that you don’t want to sleep alone. You don’t care that this will only further complicate your relationship, but you need to not be alone right now. Your bare feet pad across the wood floor as you go back out to the living room.

Sy hears you and picks his head up to look at you. “You alright, Bug?”

“I don’t wanna sleep alone. I know that’s probably−”

Sy was already up and ushering you back into the bedroom before you could finish your sentence. You pull back the covers so you both can climb in. You enter first and then he slides under the blanket next to you. He lays on his back, you on your side facing away from him. You wiggle your body backward until you come into contact with his warmth. You reach back for his arm and pull it around you.

“Is this okay?” you hesitate, suddenly afraid that you’re asking too much.

“Yeah. S’ok,” he whispers, his breath fanning across your neck. If he notices the shiver that goes down your spine, you’re grateful that he doesn’t mention it.

“Good night, Sy,” you murmur, yawning at the end of your sentence.

“G’night, Bug,” he breathes.

As you drift off to sleep, you think how different you imagined this day ending. You didn’t expect to be in your ex’s arms tonight instead of Walter’s. But you did expect to be in a werewolf’s embrace. Sy’s breath evens out behind you, the rising and falling of his chest against your back is enough to lull you into a peaceful slumber.

To be continued...

A/N: I would love to know what you think of this chapter!

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connorsbonez · 1 year

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DC/DP Crossover Idea #44

Somehow Skulker is the one to acquire a de-aged Phantom and decides to just…take him along in his hunts?? Just strap him to one of those baby carriers and they’re good to go.

Like sure, he could just drop the welp somewhere in his haunt back in the Human Realm and wait till the kid is back to his normal form but that would require Skulker having to drop by the Human Realm often to check in on the welps status so it was just easier to carry him around till the boy changes back and they can go back to hunting him down. (He’ll change back, right?)

Of course, nothing is that simple when it comes to the Phantom boy, because due to him getting suddenly shrunk down his powers have decided ‘hey, you can no longer reasonably control me’. And it’s not usually a problem because Phantom is usually hanging out in a good old baby carrier that’s close enough to Skulker so his core kind of…helps stabilize the powers a bit??? Like sure, more often than not there’s a thin sheet of frost covering his body from where Phantom was, and every so often the boys limbs would randomly disappear or shoot out ectoplasm but that only really happened in the times that Skulker had to remove Phantom from his person and leave him alone to his own devices.

Skulker had quickly learned that he couldn’t just leave Phantom because 1. The welp was a natural wanderer and only being able to either crawl or barely float didn’t stop him, at all. 2. He was a trouble magnet and 3. All these got worse when the boy got bored, causing him to wander off and attract trouble

There totally wasn’t a 4th reason, nope, not at all.

To fix this problem, he put the welp into one of his cages (it got changed into a more child-friendly version, imagine a play pen with a top on it and there you go), perfectly baby Phantom proof so he couldn’t get out, and he even threw some baby ghost toys in there so he can entertain himself while Skulker went after his prey.

Eventually Skulker + Phantom find themselves in the DC universe for a reason of your choosing, maybe a group heard of the Infinite Realms Greatest Hunter and they needed his help to take a creature down.

Well, he goes and the group is greeted by a large robotic-looking man with solid green eyes and firey hair, and the white haired baby boy with glowing green eyes that sat happily in a baby carrier as he chewed on…ice that was formed in a doughnut shape and had a green tint to it? It wasn’t hard to see the sharp teeth dig into the ice that seemed to refuse to crack even a little.

They weren’t really given the chance to question the child, from both the lack of interest that the hunter had in answering and also the very reason they even tried to contact Skulker in the first place.

Some side-glanced the cage that suddenly appeared and now contained the small child who didn’t react to this like it was something normal for them. Some even tried to touch the cage, only to be quickly greeted by a shock of electricity, a clear sign to not touch the cage.

It’s only till after Skulker was able to deal with the creature that they needed him too, does he answer.

The problem is that Skulker forgot that these mortals weren’t from the Infinite Realms, they weren’t ghosts, and they also didn’t know how Skulker and Phantoms dynamic worked, as he wasn’t used to interacting with those who didn’t know all of those at least vaguely.

So maybe answering with “I’m waiting for him to grow up so I can have his pelt hung amongst the rest of my trophies.�� And then immediately disappearing afterwards with Phantom wasn’t the smartest idea but hey, it’s not like Skulker knew.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dp x dc prompt #crossover #danny phantom #skulker #Skulker goes from maybe ally to enemy so quickly he doesn’t even realize lmao #writing prompt #fanfiction prompts #Conbon’s Prompts

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dontfearrr · 3 months

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for my good friend ! this isn’t silly at all i think it’s so endearing :) @legolas-fan-blog

short and sweet as some would say

Lion and the lamb…or fawn?

gif not mine:)

summary: Reader comes across an injured fawn, Legolas is quick to assist his lady.

Pairing: Legolas x f!elf!reader

Warnings: none

Category: fluff

Word count: still working on this💀

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The crisp air of the morning kisses your pale cheeks, blowing back your long white locks as your eyes fell shut at the content feeling. Though elves weren’t prone to the cold or anything of that matter, it still was nice to experience every now and then. Your bow was in your right grasp while your head was pointed upward to the sky.

That was until you got a feeling that ran through your abdomen all the way up to the tips of your pointed ears. It took you no more than a blink of an eye to nock an arrow. Pointing in the direction of where your nose told you to. You saw nothing, even your elvish eyes couldn’t see anything near or around you.

WHOOSH.

Your eyes widened at the fallen object in between your feet, it was a bright red apple, pierced by an arrow. Your eyebrow lifted in curiosity seeming as it didn’t look like a threat.

“it would seem as if you’ve let your guard down little one!” a familiar and eye rolling voice shouted as his figure hopped branch to branch until he landed in front of you on two feet as if he was a swift cat. You drew your bow back, placing the arrow back into its holster that was latched to your back along with your bow as you crossed your arms.

“Legolas, you should know it is rude to sneak up on a lady.” you spoke to the white haired ellon with amusement laced in your words. He flashed you a playful smile and reached for the arrow that pierced the apple and pulled it free, taking a large bite of the juicy fruit before stretching his arm toward you, offering it.

You took the apple, copying his actions then handed it back, more like pushing it into his chest with fake arrogance. You heard him chuckle behind you, followed by light, nearly silent footsteps of the princling while you continued your walk through the green forrest. You were there out of boredom, wanting to wonder around and find things you could take back home to add to your collection. So far you’ve found a rock in the shape of a star and a perfectly shaped acorn.

“what brings you out here, my lady?” Legolas spoke as he caught up to your side, beaming down at you like a sweet child with his bow in hand still, a habit the young prince has picked up over the many years he’s been alive. “simply boredom. Elrond has been quiet these days so i’ve had much free time on my hands. i come here to collect meaningless trinkets.” you said, glancing up at his smiling figure, returning a smile.

“care for some company? i’ll be as least annoying as i possibly can, my lady” he teased, knowing he knew how to strike a few nerves in you, never upsetting you but as if he was a lost puppy perhaps. He was a good friend of yours, though you cannot deny the small feelings your heart bared for him.

“i’d love some company, however i better not see anymore rogue apples flying my way.” You giggled a little half way through your sentence at his childish manners but it never failed to entertain you, and he knew that. “deal” he never dropped his proud smile as the two of them walked through the soft evergreen.

You two made conversation until your ears perked up at a sound of displease. You laid your arm across Legolas’ chest to halt his movements and he raised an eyebrow in confusion until he too heard what you had. You jogged toward the sound, hopping and swinging on branches to fasten your movements, Legolas followed suit. To your surprise you spotted an injured fawn laid across the forrest floor, blood pouring out of its leg as it cried in agony. Your heart poured into the scene as you carefully approached the gentle creature. You examined the fawn, making sure it had no other injuries.

There was an arrow pierced through its small thigh, it quivered and jerked at the pain. “god damned hunters” you grimaced at the thought of those wretched beings, cursing your beloved woodland.

“Legolas do you still carry those healing herbs on you?” He nodded and swiftly unbuckled his belt that held his leather pouch and handed it to you. He crouched on the other side of the fawn and looked up at you in worry, he knew how much the forrest meant to you, along with everything in it. He would be damned if he were to stop you from doing such. “i’ll break the arrow and carefully remove it, you’ll need to hold the creature down.” Legolas said in a hushed tone, rubbing your arm gently to comfort you, noticing your obvious sadness, your lip beginning to quiver.

You simply nodded and searched through the princes pouch, finding the herb you were needing and laid it out. You bit the bottom of your dark green undershirt, ripping a long piece of it and laying that out as well.

You took a deep breath and ran your hands down the poor creatures torso, putting enough weight to hold it down but not enough to hurt it. Legolas gripped the arrow and snapped it as if it was merely a twig. He slid the arrow out of the wound of the leg and tossed it elsewhere and your eyes squeezed shut, wishing to block out the sounds of the suffering fawn. You then opened your eyes and looked up at Legolas before taking the piece of cloth you ripped from yourself and cleaning up the blood that spilled then taking the healing herbs and took Legolas’ bow from the ground since it was the closest thing and used the end to crush the bright green herb. Once it was a paste you spread it across the wound of the fawn and Legolas held the leg for you so you can tend to the other side as well.

The wound visibly already began healing and you used the same cloth to wrap around the wound to keep it from getting infected. Legolas gave you a smile and helped you clean up the supplies. You stood and whispered a few words in elvish and watched the fawn stand up on its own and run off into the greenery.

Legolas stood next to you and placed a hand on your waist, you jumped in surprise, not ever having been touched in a way by Legolas. “i admire you, little one. you have a good heart.” he looked down at you with his sweet smile. Your eyes lit up in appreciation and it was almost as if you felt yourself blush. Legolas’ eyes visibly widened and his teeth appeared in his smile.

“i may be a fool but i know when someone is flustered.” his thumb ran across your reddened cheek and you huffed. “you’re a good friend Legolas, i don’t think there’s anyone else that would’ve helped me do such a thing. you, my prince, are the one with a good heart.” you said to him and took the hand that occupied your cheek and held it to your mouth, kissing his porcelain fingers.

“well…i smell quite the grapefruit tree near by, shall we?” the tips of his ears heated and he held out his arm for you and you latched onto him, continuing your walk through the forrest with no other than the prince of Mirkwood.

#legolas #legolas greenleaf #lotr elves #lord of the rings #tolkien #lotr fanfic #orlando bloom #legolas thranduilion #legolas x reader #the hobbit #hobbit #elves #tolkien elves #mirkwood #rivendell

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rogersideup · 8 months

Text

Nice to be Kneaded

Chapter 18

Good Luck Charm

Series Masterlist

Previous part: Endgame

Word Count: 9,856

Warnings: My blog is 18+ only. All minors or blogs without an age in bio will be blocked. Minors DNI. Mentions of medical equipment, loss, abuse, PTSD, anxiety and depression.

Your slippers shuffled against the ground as you stepped outside onto the porch. With a big blanket around your shoulders and a warm mug in each hand, you walked up to Steve who had been sitting on the love seat all by himself for about half an hour now.

His eyes were fixed on the wooden deck railing, but fondly found your face as you approached in all your comfortable glory.

"A hot latte for the hottie?" You said, handing him a mug of foamy, vanilla goodness.

His smile spread as fast as his cheeks blushed. "Thank you, baby doll."

"Anything for you."

After his gentle hands grabbed the mug from yours, you set your own coffee down for a moment sit next to him and wrap the blanket around both of your shoulders. He was quick to eat up your company, and shuffle closer to you for warmth.

It was that weird time of year where mornings and nights were cold, but midday was blazing. You were well equipped with leggings and a hoodie with thick warm socks that Steve was quite jealous of, while he was in a T-shirt and joggers. But your blanket, body heat, and the hot coffee warmed his body and his heart.

It had been a few days since half of humanity returned, and you were trying to find a good balance of giving him the space he needed to process the events and grieve his friends, time to reconnect with Bucky, all while trying to make sure you were there for him.

As of now it looked like cuddles and long conversations before bed, you sneaking off and working from 4 in the morning to around 2 in the afternoon, then coming home usually to an empty house since the two boys were out doing whatever Steve's and Bucky's do, then the three of you would have dinner together and you'd be back off to bed.

But today was different. You decided not to work at the bakery today because you knew Bucky was going to go tour apartments near by to see if maybe there was a place worth staying near his best friend for, and Steve would be on his own otherwise. Though he was perfectly capable of getting through a hard time on his own, it was always easier when the two of you were together.

With you settled next to him, his eyes fixed right back to where they were before. You thought he was looking out into the neighborhood, until your eyes caught glimpse of a tiny little creature. A spider spinning a web. Not just any spider, but an all black spider with a small red shape on its back.

A black widow.

You immediately understood where his brain was and what it was thinking about, you didn't even have to exchange words when he knew you saw it too. Together you just sat, sipped, and thought about your dear friend. But the more you thought, the more your heart hurt for Steve, so your mug was sat on the floor once again so you could wrap an arm around his shoulders and hold him closer.

Your actions made him grin, and his hand found your thigh. It squeezed in appreciation.

"Way back when we fought Ultron, we all thought for a brief moment that all of us would die in Sokovia. When I brought up that possibility, all she said was that she would never find a prettier view anywhere else than being that high up in the sky." He finally broke the silence. "I was admittedly a little scared, and she was calm as could be. Using her skills to make a positive difference in the world was all she thought she had. She was okay with dying as long as it was at the hands of the greater good."

You nodded, acknowledging that you were listening but understanding he probably wasn't looking for a response yet.

"Clint told us she seemed completely at peace with her decision, like there was no second question. She knew that's what she wanted. She died for the greater good. I've always been scared of dying in battle for any reason. I made peace with it, I accepted that it could happen, but I was always scared that it would. I know that's not what I want."

Now, you knew what this conversation was about. This is what's been looming over his head for months, the moment you knew was coming.

He finally said it.

"That's how I know I can't do this anymore." His voice dropped to almost a whisper.

Usually, those words coming from a lovers mouth were the worst words anyone could hear. But in this context, you were happy for him.

"I know you can't." You nodded with a sympathetic tone.

"You're not even going to ask me to clarify?" Steve questioned.

"I already know. I've always known." Your small, delicate smile brought him comfort. "Since the moment I found out that you were Captain America I've known two things to be true. The first one being that there was nothing you could do to scare me away, and the second being that your time in the suit was coming to an end."

"Seems like that came easier to you than it did to me." Steve noted, feeling lighter now that he's told you. "It's been looming over me for years, and it wasn't a choice I made lightly."

"Of course it wasn't." You agreed. "I've watched you quietly struggle with this since the day we met. All I've ever wanted for you was to find happiness."

"I had a sense of guilt giving it up, like people would die if I didn't keep doing this, but I know now that the truth is there was a time before me and there will be a time after me in which everyone manages just fine." He continued. "I've been at this for far longer than I think anyone expected, and I know it's time to pass the shield."

"I'm happy for you." You stated, your hand now playing with the hair on the back of his head. "I genuinely am. And I'm proud of you. I can't imagine any of your life has been easy, and choosing to try a new path that leads to an easier, more peaceful life is exactly what you've always deserved."

"I just want you to know I wouldn't have made this choice of it stopped me from taking care of us at any point." Steve stressed. "Our life together is now number one with no set backs. Please take this in the most humble and sincere way I could possibly say this, but a lack of income going forward is not anything we need to be concerned about. We're set, and any future kids we could possibly want are set."

You smiled at his words. "Honey, even if you had less than a dollar to your name, I'd still want you to make this choice. I also mean this very sincerely and humbly, but the bakery is doing really well. I would've been happy to make you a stay at home Dad."

"So this is it." Steve shrugged. "I'll go on one more mission to put the stones back exactly where they need to be, pass the shield over to Sam and be done. The last few days of being Captain America, then it'll be the first days of the rest of our lives."

"I've always thought Steve was cooler than Cap, by the way." You grinned, head landing on his shoulder.

"You're just saying that to make me feel better." Steve giggled, snuggling further next to you. "Thank you for all of your support. It means a lot to me. You've put up with a lot to accommodate what I do. None of it when by without appreciation."

"You do a lot to support me too, at this point, I think the bakery would fall apart without you and all the little things you do for us. They add up, and it makes a massive impact on the way everyone functions and business flows." You reminded him. "We're a team, Love. I'll always have your back and I know you always have mine. I can't wait to see what this next chapter looks like for us."

"I don't think I could properly express how excited I am about it right now amidst all of this chaos, but if I think about it for too long I'll cry." Steve giggled.

"It's okay, I believe you." You smiled.

"And now that the ball is rolling on the bakery in New York, I just feel really hopeful that I'll be busy regardless of the fact that I'm unemployed now."

You laughed as you moved your arm down to hold his hand instead. "I think a life with me is a life with the bakeries. I don't think that's considered unemployment."

"Can I apply for a job at Nice to be Kneaded?" Steve joked. "It'll keep me busy."

"Sure thing, I'll forward you the email you can send in your resume and fill out an application."

"Ugh I'm never gonna get the job." Steve pouted.

"Why not?"

"I haven't updated my resume since 1942, and there's a 66 year gap." He explained. "And the owner of the bakery is so beautiful, I'm going to be fumbling over my words the entire interview!"

Your smile widened, as did the swell of your heart. "I actually know her, I'll put in a good word for you."

"Thank you, Sunflower, that would be great." He smiled and squeezed your hand.

"...Stevie?" You questioned softly.

"Hmm?"

"We don't have to kill it, but that spider can't stay there."

Steve chuckled at your words. "It is pretty terrifying, isn't it?"

"Does Captain America protect people against scary venomous spiders?"

"Oh... did you not just hear the whole 'I'm retiring' part of the conversation?" Steve joked.

"Okay... will my big, strong boyfriend protect me against the scary venomous spider?"

"...but.... I'm scared of spiders" his voice jumped up an octave or two, and lowered in volume earning your giggles.

"Maybe we can just burn the house down?" You suggested.

"Yeah, let's do that." Steve agreed with a big smile. "Or we can relocate it together"

"Awwww!" You cooed unenthusiastically. "How about we wait for Bucky to get back and he can help us?"

"That's the best idea yet"

"At least you have a big, strong boyfriend that'll relocate scary spiders for you!" You jokingly enthused.

Steve's jaw dropped, but his smile and giggles prevailed through his feigned display of betrayal. "You know what?! That spider is gonna come bite you!"

"Not under Bucky's watch, it won't" You laughed.

"It's gonna come all the way over here and crawl aaaalllllllllll the way up your arm" With his middle and index fingers, they climbed up your arm with a feathery light touch as to tickle you on purpose. Your laugh was music to his ears as his hand made it to your neck, then he started tickling right at the base of your shoulder on purpose. "And it's gonna bite you right here for being so mean to me!"

As if it was the most contagious disease known to man, your happiness and laughter seeped into his heart and soul, and just being near you had him feeling the same way. Faster than he could process, you were both laughing as he one-handedly tried to fight off your attempts at giving him spider bites through the tiniest, gentlest pinches he's ever felt in his life.

The two of you were too occupied in each others chaos to notice Georgia walking across the street for a chat. Admittedly, she also got lost in the scene happening in front of her.

Your arms flying at Steve as uncontrollable laughter and smiles flew past each other, Steve trying to block your swift hands with only one of his arms. Then, his mug slipped out of his other hand and splashed coffee all over his lap, onto the blanket, and the mug shattered onto the deck.

For a moment, Georgia recoiled, fully prepared to walk away when Steve inevitably got angry at you for the the loss of a mug and a perfectly good cup of coffee.

But instead, she was pleasantly surprised when there was a pause in all movement and laughter, both of you looked down at the mess all over Steve and the porch, then your eyes met each others again, and the two of you bursted out in even more laughter.

"Oh no! Was that hot? Are you okay?" Your hand grabbed into his upper arm, questioning between laughter. "I'm sorry!"

"Not hot, I'm fine." He chuckled, patting the top of your thigh twice. "Don't be sorry! Let me get rid of this broken glass real quick so you don't cut yoursel- oh. Hi, Georgia."

"Hi, sorry to interrupt." She slowly walked up the steps.

"Oh my goodness, how are you feeling?!" You questioned, feeling indifferent about her approaching you and Steve.

"A lot better. I just uh, I just wanted to come over and thank you guys for your help. I don't remember much of what happened but Adeline from two doors down told me about it. You had no reason to help, let alone bring flowers and check on on me multiple times. So, again, thank you."

"We had reason to help," Steve cut in, remembering your sad years over your strained relationship with your once dear friend. He was committed to making this work for you. "whether you believe it or not, we care about you."

"I certainly understand that now." Georgia nodded her head.

"How has Michael been since he's been back? Is he adjusting okay?" You asked, having felt worried about him since the snap.

"He's been alright, it's been a bit of a shock to him but that's to be expected. He was focused on taking care of me but now that I'm better I think he's really processing the events that took place." She explained. "Steve, I also heard you got injured pretty badly in battle. Are you alright?"

Her concern had over his well-being had him admittedly surprised. "I did get bit roughed up but I'm a lot better now, thank you."

"I owe you an overdue apology." Georgia sincerely stated. "All the years you've been here, I wildly misinterpreted your character. It's clear to me now that I let the media, and Michael's opinion of you get into my head at the time you found your way to Greenwood. You're a good man, and I can tell you're an even better guy for the sweetest little lady in the whole town. I can tell you two love each other very much, and I hope you understand I only ever wanted what was best for her."

"I appreciate your apology." Steve nodded. "I think we both agree and see eye to eye on a lot of things, especially only ever wanting what's best for this sweet girl. But I'm not the only one you owe an apology to."

"I agree." Georgia nodded. She approached you with small apprehensive steps, then squatted down in front of your seat and placed her hand over yours. "Baby girl, I'm sorry."

You nodded, and swallowed the lump in your throat.

"I am. Really, really sorry." She squeezed your hand. "You are and always have been one smart, tough cookie and I should've trusted you to make good choices for yourself. I was wrong. I'm happy you have him, and I'm proud of the life you've created for yourself. It makes me happy to see you doing well. It's obvious that you two love each other very much, and I'm sorry for not seeing that until now."

"Thank you" You accepted. Though you would love nothing more than to have things go back to the way it used to be, Steve has taught you a lot about only accepting what's of value to you. Though him, you learned that the bare minimum wasn't the only treatment you should accept in life. He picked your standards up off the floor and held them above the ground. If Georgia wanted a place back in your life, she would have to fight for it. "I love you, and care about you so much. I always have, and I always will. I think this is a good start to reestablishing our friendship, but you know it's gonna take some time?"

Though this challenge was one for her to face, Georgia was proud to see you finally setting healthy boundaries for yourself. The version of you that she was friends with many years ago was a chronic people pleaser who couldn't get any words to leave her mouth that could possibly be taken badly. This version of you was much different, and far more healed and healthy.

“Of course.” She nodded in understanding

Standing up and letting your hand go, she turned to Steve once more. "And Steve, thank you for your service. I really appreciate and respect what you put on the line to save everyone we lost."

"No problem." He nodded before Georgia walked off right back into her own house.

Silence fell between you two for a few moments after her front door closed, until you broke it. "I never thought that would happen."

“Neither did I.” Steve stared blankly across the street.

More silence.

"Do you think she still would've apologized if she knew we were housing Bucky for the time being?" You questioned.

"Some things are better left unsaid." Steve shrugged.

More silence.

"I've been sitting in a puddle of vanilla latte for 5 minutes." Steve stated.

Then your eyes met his, looked down at his lap that was drenched in coffee, then back up at his face.

Once again, you two bursted out into laughter.

After some scrubbing, googling how to get coffee stains out of clothes, a shower, and a load of laundry later, it was like the coffee incident never happened.

Before you knew it, you and Steve were back in New York for a handful of different reasons. The first being location scouting for the new bakery. You dragged Steve around the city for 3 full days with a contractor and a financial advisor, touring empty business slots. Steve kept joking that you were the Prince Charming of bakery owners, you had a theoretical glass slipper and if one of the buildings didn't perfectly fit, it was an automatic no.

But eventually you found the perfect new home for the bakery. And wildly enough, it was in Brooklyn. The entirety of your search, Steve would make a little half-joke half-serious remark that everything good in the city was in Brooklyn. Sure enough, the moment you stepped foot into building, it was an automatic yes. You signed the lease right then and there, and the contractor started taking measurements as you sat in a pretty office with floor to ceiling windows signing paper after paper.

The only person happier than you about this decision was Steve, who had pointed out that the apartment he used to live in with his mom was just down the block. He also told you about how in building the bakery would now be in, used to be a little bodega where him and his Mom would walk to just to buy marshmallow sandwich cookies.

It made you incredibly happy knowing that such a special place to Steve, where he already had fond memories of getting sweet treats would now turn into a whole new place full of even sweeter treats. You'd like to believe that somewhere out there, Sarah Rogers led you to this corner location just to make his boy happy.

That same day, after all the paperwork was done and your wrist hurt from signing the lease agreement, you and Steve walked hand and hand through the streets of Brooklyn. The two of you had done this together many times before, but each time unlocked a special memory for him, and it always made you happy to learn more about who he was before the war.

This time he walked you along the route he used to take on his bike when he worked as a paper boy to put himself through art school. You passed by the apartment he lived in immediately after his Mom died, and surprisingly enough, it looked exactly the same on the outside. Then, you did what had to be done.

Hand in hand, you walked into a bodega and found the marshmallow cookies. You'd never had them before, but apparently they were one of the most popular treats in the 30's and Sarah adored them. After buying a pack of them, ripping them open and doing a little cheers, you each took and bite of the two crunchy vanilla cookies with marshmallow fluff in the center.

You could see the nostalgia flooding his brain, and all you could do was smile. It was the sweetest celebration you could've ever wanted for such a momentous occasion.

Then, you two went upstate for Tony's funeral.

Steve told you over and over again that you didn't have to go. He knew it would be difficult for the Avengers, and even worse for Pepper and Morgan who you'd never met. You were here for work, and already taking time to support him on his last mission as Captain America, and he felt guilty taking even more of your time.

But as he zipped up the back of your black dress, and you straighten out his tie, you reassured him that you wouldn't miss it for the world. He needed you there even though he wouldn't admit it, and you wanted a chance to see the Avengers again, even under such a terrible circumstance.

The two of you stated the night near the cabin after the funeral. The lake was gorgeous, and the cabin you rented was beautiful. It was quiet, quaint, and Sam and Bucky stayed the night with you guys as well.

You could tell the day had taken an emotional toll on them, where the boys used to bounce off the walls when they were all together, they just sat and held conversation instead. One by one the boys knocked out. Steve was first, he fell asleep sitting next to you on the couch. His head fell lnto your shoulder and his face nuzzled into his neck. Then Bucky lost the battle on the arm chair, leaving just you and Sam chatting for hours.

Conversation came easy between you, and you really enjoyed talking to him. You even got a little sad knowing that it was getting late, and Steve had a big day in the morning so you had to cut the conversation off and get him to bed.

Then, the monumental day came.

Steve's last mission.

He expected to have a lot of sadness letting go of such a monumental part of his life, but as he suited up for the very last time he looked in the mirror and felt like he barely even recognized the reflection anymore.

Your arms snaked around his stomach from behind and you rocked forward onto your tippy toes to give him a kiss on the cheek before looking at him through the mirror. Only then did he feel like himself again.

"Lookin' good, Baby." Your cheeky smile made an appearance. "Feelin' good?"

"Surprisingly, yes." He responded with a grin, his half gloved hands held onto your arms. "I'm excited to get it over with, so ready to turn a new page."

"I think Sam is going to be honored. You're making a really good choice passing him the mantle." You reassured.

"I think so too." He grinned.

"One last picture before you go?" You asked.

"Whatever you want." He agreed.

Like a proud Mom, you took a few pictures of the two of you through the mirror, and a few of just him. Then, you, Steve, Sam, Bucky, and Bruce all met up at the smaller time travel machine that Bruce put together and got ready for Steve's last run.

You waited patiently as they briefed, powered up the Time Machine, and got all of their odds and ends in place.

Once it was good to go, everyone got a hug just in case, except for you that got a hug and a kiss. What could he say? You were just special like that.

"Still got it?" You asked, as always before sending him off.

"Always!" Out of his pocket, he pulled the $20 between his fingers to show you before putting it back in. "Got a little something extra this time too"

Steve grinned as he picked up mjolnir, knowing it was the first time you ever saw him wield the hammer. Then, the cheeky little shit winked at you, earning a laugh and a shake of your head.

"Good luck, baby. It's only the weight entire timeline as we know it on your shoulders, so, no pressure." You smiled.

"No pressure at all, easy peasy." He agreed, stepping onto the platform.

"Go get 'em Cap. Love you!"

"Love you more."

Then you had the greatest privilege of all, saluting the captain for the very last time.

He smiled, nodded, Bruce counted down, then he was gone.

Of course time worked differently for the person time traveling, so even though he was only gone for about a minute or two for you, for him it was hours.

You and Bucky both knew what was about to happen, so the two of you took a physical and mental step back as you waited for his arrival home.

Bruce counted down once more before bringing him back, and you saw him immediately. He purposefully arrived away from the machine, wanting to have a special moment alone with Sam.

He sat alone on a bench looking out onto the lake, no longer in his suit, but in some of his old clothes he got from his place a few years ago. Shield in hand, but in a leather case.

"Where is he? I don't see him?" Bruce questioned.

"Well bring him back!" Sam panicked.

"I did, I thought I-"

"Then where is he?"

"Guys." You cut in. They both stopped and looked at you. Then you pointed at the bench. "Over there."

Both of them looked at you with a confused expression on their face, until Bucky elaborated. "That's for you, Sam."

"Me?" He raised an eyebrow.

"You" you confirmed with a prideful grin.

He hesitantly made his way towards Steve, and watched the conversation from a distance. There wasn't very many words that needed to be exchanged, but even just thinking about how Steve was taking his life into his own hands and making such a big change for the happiness of his own self for once had you choked up.

Just a few weeks ago, he couldn't even fathom fighting for himself. Now, he had moved an entire mountain for his own future.

While this was happening, Bucky filled Bruce in on what was going on. You could hear their conversation, but your eyes never left Sam and Steve as you leaned against a tree.

A few moments went by before the two boys shared a nice hug, Steve stood up without his shield and made his way over to you.

Without a word and a big smile on his face, he reached his hand out to hold yours. Your connected arms swung as you made the shirt walk back into the cabin.

It wasn't until you both stepped inside and closed the door behind you that your arms flew around his neck and his lips pressed against yours.

"Congratulations, Baby!" You said enthusiastically.

"Thank you, Sunflower!" His smile was so uncontrollable he couldn't even get his lips to close enough to kiss you again even if he tried. "Couldn't have done it without you."

"I brought something to celebrate" You noted with a smile just as big as his.

"Champagne?" He questioned.

"Even better," you denied, walking away into the kitchen before pulling something out of the cabinet. You hid it behind your back before approaching him again. "Hold out your hands!"

"Okay" he giggled.

Swiftly, you placed a package of marshmallow cookies in his hands and his smile widened.

"I've been thinking about your Mom a lot since I got the place in Brooklyn, and I was thinking about how happy she would probably be if she knew you were taking a step down from fighting literal wars, going to space, and time traveling." You explained.

"Oh, if she knew anything about what I've been up to since she's passed, I think I would've given her a heart attack." Steve agreed, feeling a bit emotional knowing someone has been thinking of her just as often as he does.

"She deserves to be included in this celebration, considering she made you, and you've been worrying her from her peaceful rest since the moment you lied on your enlistment form."

"That, she does." Steve agreed and handed you a cookie before grabbing his own.

You held it up a bit as you presented a toast. "To the Rogers finding peace."

He giggled at your words before tapping his cookie against yours and eating it. Amused that this was the second time this week the two of you had cheered and celebrated with marshmallow cookies.

Steve finished chewing, swallowed, then an expression you didn't quite recognize spread across his face. It was like he wanted to tell you something, but hesitated and was now internally analyzing the words before they left his lips.

"What?" You asked, cocking your head to the side.

"Did you notice I was a few seconds late?" He asked.

You knew there was a statement beneath the question he asked. The wheels started turning as you wondered what he was getting on about. "I did. A few seconds for us was a few hours for you... what did you do?" You raised a curious bow.

"You know, that essay you wrote about Peggy really stuck with me." He started, you immediately smiled. "Had me thinking a lot about how I found a lot of peace over the lack of control while being in the ice because I got to know what happened to her. She got married to a man I rescued in the war, had kids, lived a full life."

"I already knew that, because I wrote that essay!" You joked, earning a good laugh from Steve.

"Very smart! Remind me to give you a gold star later!" He chuckled. "But she never got that for me, so I took your advice and paid her a visit."

"You just saw Peggy?!" You questioned with wide, sparkly eyes.

"I did." He told you, still a little cautious in not wanting to offend you. "Obviously she was a little shocked because she thought I was dead, but we sat down and had a nice conversation about what had happened and what was gonna happen. But most importantly I met her kids, and told her about you and that essay you wrote."

"No way!" Your smile widened, and your hands found his shoulders.

"Yes way! She was genuinely delighted to hear about us, and gave her best wishes. She also wanted me to pass along a hello to you, and let you know that she thinks you're beautiful. Oh, and she’s that I get all the cookies I want whenever I want them.”

“Stop it, that’s so cute!” You squeaked. “This is like the coolest thing that’s ever happened to me! And you got more closure, which is incredible! What a great day. I’m so happy for you, but I’m also just so happy in general. What an honor”

“I love you, Baby." Steve stated with a big smile, hands pulling you close again when they found their favorite spot on your hips. "I'm so thankful every single day that I found you. You've been a beacon of light in my life, I wouldn't have ever made it here without you to guide me."

"I love you too." You sighed contently, as his arms wrapped around you. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. We deserve this life together."

"We've been through so much to get to this moment. Thanks for sticking with me no matter what. I know it was hard and painful, and definitely illegal at one point, but I hope now I can prove to you that it was worth it."

"You don't have to prove it. You already did. It's been worth it the entire time, and I'll always choose you no matter how illegal it becomes." You smiled and squeezed him tight. "You're the bestest, coolest, loveliest human I've ever met."

"I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you." He kissed the top of your head.

"You've gotta propose for that one, Love." You poked.

"I'm working on it!" He said defensively, causing you to laugh.

And working on it he was. Because even though life proceeded as normal when you made it back to Greenwood, there was still a lot happening.

Bucky found a cute little apartment that was perfect for him not even two blocks away from the new bakery in Brooklyn. It felt like the perfect middle ground of still being close to you and Steve, all while still being able to live where he wanted geographically.

Shortly after Bucky moved out, you and Steve headed out on a trip to California to visit your Mom. This was a tricky one for Steve, because your relationship with you Mom was a tricky one for you.

Although your relationship with her was something you were actively improving since she came back from the snap, Steve still knew that her approval of him didn't mean much to you. But he was still old fashioned in the sense that he still at least wanted to meet her, and ask her for permission to propose to you before he popped the question.

Whether he felt like her permission or lack there of would actually make a difference for him taking what he wanted was a wash, but he wanted to do it anyways just to be able to know that he tried at the very least.

This was his second time visiting California with you, and he loved it just as much this time around. You guys stayed in your childhood bedroom at your Mom's house that resided in a lazy town on the bay.

He learned a lot about you from the charm of the house alone. The pictures on the walls of baby you, teenage you, and early adulthood you. Conversations exchanged with your mom over breakfast where she never missed an opportunity to share her favorite stories of your antics growing up. He also learned a lot about your Dad because of how frequently he came up in almost every conversation, and he desperately wished he could've met him. Just from what he's heard, he could tell a lot of who you were came from him.

Every night, you and Steve would go out onto the dock to watch the sunset and listen to music together.

You shared stories with him about what felt like endless hours of you sitting on the dock with your dad. Back then, the hours felt long and gruesome. As if sitting and watching the little creatures in the water beneath you was some sort of torture, but as you grew up and towards the end of his life, it became a sanctuary. It was the only place he seemed to be truly calm and relaxed as his memories and executive function left him. By that point, you wished the hours were endless rather than having a metaphorical clock ticking over his head.

Then, when the moon was out and the sky was dark it would somehow evolve into you and Steve slow dancing under the stars.

During the day you'd take him out and show him all of your favorite old spots. Hole in the wall food joints, family owned ice cream shops, the tide pools, and even long drives up the coast to the same music you would dance with him.

It was relaxed, easy, and Steve passed your Mom's unspoken test with flying colors. He sneakily got her approval two days before you guys left California while you were in the shower.

She was so happy about it that Steve almost had to keep you away from her as much as he could so she didn't ruin the surprise.

Then, on your last night in town, you guys walked over to the dock just like every other night since you've been here. Only this time, it was a little later. Dinner ran late so by the time you made it out for one last night, the sun was already setting.

But it was okay, because when the two of you approached hand in hand, and he watched your face twist up with a billion different emotions when you realized that the dock was covered in flowers and lit up with the soft golden glow of dozens of candles, it was all worth it.

At first you were sad because you thought it was for someone else, and the dock was now unusable for you and Steve on your last night. But as he continued walking towards it, and his hand holding yours was shaking and a little clammy, only then did you realize what was happening.

He could barely even get a single word out, let alone present the ring to you and get down on one knee before you were already saying yes. But he was thankful for your enthusiasm, because it instantly took his nerves away.

The ring was perfect, the proposal was perfect, and dancing under the twinkling stars and amongst the burning candles was perfect.

Your fiancé was perfect.

Knowing that he listened to your stories and took them to heart, and incorporating a special place that reminded you of your dad into your love story made you weep happy tears and he held you close and swayed you to the music.

Happy tears seemed to be a common occurrence between the two of you recently, and each little drop was well deserved and worked for.

That night when you got back to your Mom's place, you didn't even have to tell her the news before she flung her arms around you and Steve at the same time in a big bear hug. It was safe to say she was over the moon.

Just to make things even better, that night you and your Mom ended up having a really nice heart to heart. A lot of the issues you've had with her since you were little were addressed, and she apologized for encouraging you to stay with your ex after she realized how bad the relationship actually was. For the first time ever, she told you how proud of you she was, and how amazing you were for the success of the bakery. She promised to visit you out in Greenwood again, and see the bakery and Brooklyn on opening day.

For a little while, your life had felt like an embarrassment of riches, like or was going just a little too well for just a little too long.

Especially when Steve set off on a personal journey of trying to discover who he really was without jumping from battle to battle. It felt like every day the two of you would set off on a little adventure to try out something new.

Between work going so well, and all the fun dates you were going it, it felt like a smile didn't leave your face for months.

Long drives to little towns in the area, pottery and ceramics classes, yoga, pilates, meeting new friends at bars, then getting dragged home and put to bed, hosting dinner parties with you little Greenwood family, then doing the same thing all over again but in Brooklyn with friends you had made over in the big city. It was exciting, new, and you'd never seen Steve quite so radiant before.

Life was easy for a while, but with highs came lows that couldn't be ignored. The closer opening came for the Brooklyn bakery, the harsher the deadlines, and the more stressed you became.

Focusing on one bakery alone was a full time job in itself, but adding in another one had you practically ripping your hair out in the final few months.

All the choices fell on you, all of the paperwork fell on you, and all of the management choices that still needed to be made for the Greenwood bakery were on you as well, and there were no amount of shoulder massages and support Steve could give you to change that.

It was pretty much accepted that the only way out was through, and it would get much much easier once the new team of employees were trained and the doors were opened.

However, the stress took a toll on your body and landed you in the emergency room one fateful night. For the past year, your periods had become more and more painful. The second day of your cycle every since month Steve would try his best to console you through the pain. Hugs, back rubs, heating pads, painkillers, wasn't enough this time around.

You were throwing up, full body chills, goosebumps raised on your skin, and he couldn't get you to uncurl yourself from the tightest little ball unless it was to roll around in discomfort or getting up to vomit again. As much as it hurt his heart to have to bring you somewhere that had such traumatic experiences associated with it, you tapped out. The pain was so bad that you'd rather go to the emergency room than deal with it any more.

Luckily, the worst part was sitting in the waiting room. You sat curled up on his lap, and he held you so snug to him, it's like he was trying to hide you away from all the awful memories. When they finally took you back, they gave you so many pain killers that you were higher than a kite for the rest of it. Lots of exams, two doctors appointments, and a few medical bills later, they decided it was your birth control that needed to be switched.

All was well until a few months later when you woke up nauseous, and ravenously hungry at the same time. Having pushed through it, and gone to work, you called Steve on your lunch break to rant about how grouchy you felt, and how everything was getting on your last nerve.

He decided to stop by and drop off your favorite food to cheer you up since you still had a long day ahead of you. When he gave you a big long hug to try and make you feel better, you started crying because of how nice he was.

That's when it clicked in his head that your period was a whole week late. He brought it up cautiously, and you both agreed that you'd be taking a pregnancy test after work.

Steve picked up a few different kinds from the store, and both of you separately processed what this all meant while waiting for the time to come to have a real answer.

By the time you had gotten off of work and Steve ushered you straight up the stairs, you had gone through all seven stages of grief, and acceptance for whatever the future held for you. Mostly because you knew that no matter what, Steve would be incredible, and you were ready to take on anything life threw your way as long as he was there to hold your hand through it.

That's exactly what he did. You took the test, flipped it face down, and brought it out into the bedroom where you snuggled up together and for three whole minutes, he comforted you and reminded you that it would be okay no matter what.

The timer he set on his phone went off, you asked him to flip the test over.

Both of you read it at the same time, Negative.

Your eyes found each others faces to gauge any sort of reaction. He saw your lip wobbling and tears pooling in your lash line, and you saw him trying his absolute best to hide every drop of disappointment.

"Hey, it's okay." He reminded you with nothing louder than a soft whisper. When his gentle hands tucked your hair out of your face, and he grinned just to bring you some comfort, you fell apart. "It's okay."

"I'm sorry" You apologized, shoving your face into his chest. You didn't know if the apology was for your emotions or the disappointment you were both feeling but left unspoken.

"Don't you dare apologize, my love." He said sweetly, protectively cradling the back of your head. "All I wanted was your health to be a priority, that's why the test was important. As long as you're okay, I'm okay too."

As always, you took his words to heart. You never expected to be so disappointed by the negative result when you weren't actively trying to get pregnant in the first place. You also weren't expecting to be so effected by the tiniest shimmer of sadness in Steve's eyes when he read the test.

Your period showed up the next day, but the thought of having a baby intruded your every waking thought for the next month. It felt like the only time you weren't actively thinking about it was when you were working, but even then, you'd read deadlines printed on papers and wonder if now was a good time.

But then you realized now was a great time. The bakery was set to open in just a few short months, then most of the responsibility would be handed over to staff who was training hard to handle it. Steve was doing better now than ever, and wedding planning hadn't even started yet.

Much like Steve didn't want to propose until he retired, you didn't want to plan a wedding until the bakery was open for business.

With downtime promised in the future, and a sparkly engagement ring on your finger that reminded you of your sweet handsome boy, you decided to just talk to him about the possibility of even just trying.

Just like always, Steve was a thoughtful guy. He choose all of his words carefully through all of your long conversations about the decision to have a kid. You knew he so badly wanted to say yes, in fact, you swore if he was a dog his tail would be wagging every time he even thought about it. But it was a big choice and a huge life change, he wanted to make sure it was really something you wanted and not something you felt pressured into since that one fateful day.

It took 3 more weeks before both of you were wholeheartedly committed to the endeavor with the agreement and the knowledge that it might mot happen right away.

The prospect settled in your mind, and you just enjoyed the journey while you allowed work to be your main priority at the moment. And with so many deadlines approaching, you really didn't have any other choice than to just let the universe work it's magic.

The closer opening day became, it was like the bakery had become your and Steve's child. The two for you spent weeks in the store in Brooklyn painting walls, assembling endless amounts of furniture, directing deliveries, and decorating the lobby to live up to the very high standards of the Greenwood location.

By the time the kitchen was fully stocked, employees were trained, and the whole space was perfect from head to toe, you were both exhausted.

The very last night before opening, you checked every last screw, every bulb in the bake case, every seam in the wallpaper, and quality controlled every last desert on a finalized menu, you and Steve quite literally laid sprawled out on the floor of the lobby.

Steve took a good look around, and was so incredibly proud of all the blood, sweat, and tears you shed to make your dreams come true. He knew that if his mom was around to see what this building had turned into if not her beloved bodega, she would be absolutely thrilled to have something like this in the neighborhood.

You laid flat on your back, looking up at the expertly painted ceiling mural and the chandelier, every crystal hung from it by the will of your own two hands.

Then, your rolled over onto your stomach, and your hand pat right in the center of Steve's chest.

"It's midnight, and I have to be back here at 4 in the morning. Maybe I should just have a sleepover." Your exhausted grin took over when you saw his sleepy face.

"You should get a few hours of real sleep before your big day, pretty lady." Steve denied, getting up off the floor and offering his hands to pull you up off the floor. "It looks incredible, you did an amazing job as always."

"It's funny that you think I'll get any sleep at all" You stood, then gave him a kiss. "I really couldn't have done it without your help, so, thank you, Baby."

"Anything for you." He smiled. "I can't wait to see it in the morning, I have butterflies just thinking about this place full of people."

"You and me both." You squeezed his hand. "You don't think the rug clashes with the wallpaper? And the chairs match the wood on the booths?"

"Stop, it's perfect." Steve put your mind to rest. "Just like you!"

"Yeah yeah yeah," you giggled, walking behind the counter. "I guess you're pretty cool too. There's a few cookies left from the test bake. You want some?"

"Wait! Hold on" Steve said dramatically, walking away from you and out of the store.

You stood there confused for a few moments, before he walked back in. Nothing had changed, but he did approach the counter.

"Hello, I'm your first customer!" He enthused.

You giggled, looking at the case that was empty besides 2 chocolate chip cookies. "Hi there, Honey! What can I get'cha?"

"One chocolate chip cookie please" He smiled.

You knew he was recreating the moment the two of you met, though that felt like lifetimes ago, you could never forget the vivid memory of seeing his handsome face for the very first time.

"Okay, but I'm giving you two, because I think anyone who orders one cookie is lying to themselves." You said, putting the cookies in a bag for him.

"Why thank you very much!"

"I don't think I've seen you around here before, are you driving through?" You joked.

"Something like that." He chuckled.

"Well I hope to see you around here again soon, and here are your cookies." You handed him the bag.

"How much do I owe you?" Steve asked.

"They're on the house."

"I couldn't possibly accept that" Steve denied, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket. Out came the very same $20 bill the two of you have been passing back and forth since the day you met. You smiled and shook your head at him as he handed it to you. "You have a big day tomorrow, I think it's your turn to hold onto the good luck charm."

You accepted the pass off, "this doesn't mean I lost this argument, did it?"

"It totally does" Steve did a little happy dance.

"You're a cheeky little shit, but I love you."

He laughed at your statement, "I love you more!"

"I have a little surprise for you" You noted.

"You do?" His eyebrows raised.

Nodding, you pointed to an empty slot in the bake case. His eyes followed to read the tag, Sarah's Sandwich Cookies.

His big blues met yours again with the happiest puppy dog pout you've ever seen in your life, if that was even possible.

"What you said about your Mom really stuck with me, and I wanted to make sure her and her love for cookies were honored in a place you hold special memories in. So, marshmallow cookies are permanent and exclusive on the menu for this location." You explained.

He didn't have much to say, but he did walk around the counter and wrap you up in a big hug. "That's the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. Thank you."

"I wish I could've met her." You noted.

"She would've loved you so much, probably more than me." He giggled from above you.

"Impossible" you denied.

He gave you a kiss before letting you go.

"As much as I'd love to stay here forever and ever, I really do want to make sure you get some sleep." Steve noted.

"We can go now." You agreed, heart nervously pounding in your chest. "hey, really quick do you mind checking the oven to make sure it properly cooled down while I lock this register?" You asked.

"Sure thing, sweet thing" he nodded.

As he walked off, you smiled to yourself and your stomach filled with butterflies. You let him get a few paces ahead of you before leaning into the doorway of the kitchen while watching him reach for and open the oven doors.

He checked the temperature of the internal thermometer, which looked normal to him, but then, he stopped.

"Hey, I think someone forgot something in here!" He shouted for you, not quite understanding.

"That's odd, what is it?" You approached from behind.

"A cinnamon roll, but just one, and it's on a... plate?" He looked at it again. "Did you guys even make cinnamon rolls today?"

You smiled and shook your head at his wholesome cluelessness, but all of his attention was directed at getting the cinnamon roll out of the oven.

"No, we didn't." You denied. "But why would that be there in the first place?"

"Maybe someone wanted to warm one up them forgot about it" He pondered before pouting at it. "I don't know if that's more sad for the cinnamon roll or the person who forgo-"

Then he stopped.

His eyes met yours and his mouth fell open.

"Why would there possibly be a bun in the oven?!" You continued questioning with a huge uncontrollable smile, even though you were positive he understood now.

"You're lying." His eyes went wide, smile slowly spreading across his lips as tears welled in his eyes.

"No I'm not." You shook your head again with a chuckle and walked towards him. Out of your back pocket, you pulled out a very positive pregnancy test and showed it to him. "I'm definitely pregnant, like, super pregnant."

"You're pregnant?!" He blinked back his tears, one fell right down his cheek. "Like, right now?!"

You wiped it off with your thumb as you laughed at his question. "Right now."

"Holy shit!" He smiled, his hands landing on your shoulders, gently shaking them very enthusiastically. "You're pregnant! We're having a baby!"

"We are, we really really are!" You shared his enthusiasm, shaking his shoulders right back.

"Oh my gosh! When did you find out?" He questioned, eyes wide and staring at you in disbelief.

"Three days ago, I would've told you sooner but I wanted to surprise you." You explained, wiping another happy tear off his cheek.

"That's crazy, this is so crazy." He chuckled, finding himself unable to stop the tears from dripping down his cheeks. "How are you, are you feeling okay?"

"I've been constantly nauseous and trying so hard to hide it." You giggled at your own confession. "But other than that, so far so good. Are you feeling okay?"

"I didn't even know it was possible to be this happy or this in love but for some reason I'm feeling both at the same time, and I don't know what to do with myself." He confessed.

You smiled at his state of emotion, and smothered his face in kisses as he processed the news you just told him. Then, the news sunk in and his arms wrapped around you, and he took his turn smothering you in kisses.

"I'm so excited to go on this journey with you, this is incredible" he cried happily.

"You're gonna be the best dad ever." You cheesed, squeezing him back.

With two fingers under your chin, he raised your head and pressed a long, loving kiss on your lips. His palm rested on your cheek, and you sleepily sighed at the comfort of being held by your favorite boy.

"God, I love you so much." He confessed once more for the billionth time that day. "This is the most selfless thing anyone could ever do for someone, and I get to spend the rest of my life spoiling you rotten every single day and I'm so happy about it."

"It was so hard for me not to immediately tell you" You giggled. "But it was worth it to see you cute little face."

"Now I really want to make sure you get some sleep!" He enthused. "Oh, also..."

He pulled away from you and reached into his pocket, then pulled out a crisp $10 bill and handed it to you.

"What is this for?" You questioned, unable to hide your smile.

"Extra good luck! 10 for you, 10 for me, 10 for cinnamon roll." He explained.

"Never in my life have I felt quite as lucky as I do right now." You accepted.

$30 worth of good luck or not, the universe sent you Steve Rogers, and that was the day you won the lottery. That made you the luckiest girl I'm the whole world.

"Baby, if you need anything, and I mean anything, you better tell me to get it done for you. Hungry? I'm gonna find you a Michelin star meal. Tired? You better believe you're getting a full body massage. Can't reach the top shelf? Ring a bell and I'll bring a latter." He told you, and you could tell he was being absolutely serious. "I don't want you lifting a single finger, and I mean it!"

You chuckled and shook your head. "Don't say what you don't mean, because I'm going to be needing you a lot of that's the case"

"Being needed is literally all I've ever wanted in life" Steve accepted your statement.

"Well now with our little cinnamon roll on the way, we're both going to need you more than you'll ever know." You kissed him, and wiped the last of the happy tears off of his cheeks.

"You're right, it really is so nice to be needed."

The end 🌟🤍

@patzammit @bemysugarbean @buckymydarlingangel @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @differenttyphoonwerewolf @themotherof10 @talesofadragon @spikeluv84 @bitchy-bi-trash @crazyunsexycool @openup-yourmind @selella @kattreffic @benedict-squirtle @magnificentsaladllama @calwitch @avengersinitiative2012 @rogersbarber @daddywattpad4945

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gallusrostromegalus · 11 months

Note

I'd been meaning to ask about if Hanatarou had any role in AEIWAM, because I'm an incurable minor character lover and still apparently very fond of him even though it's been upwards of a decade since my Bleach fixation. And then I see you mentioned him in a post and I am activated! I'd love to hear more about him in AEIWAM if you want to share 👀

One afternoon, Retsu Unohana noticed a strange ant crossing her desk.

It was a slow afternoon- the calm before the return of the 11th division from New Recruit Boot Camp and the annual 4th division game of "Match the limbs!" began.

She sat up and leaned in to examine the ant- the 4th division is kept PRISTINE by no small dint of effort and interlopers are Most Unwelcome. This foreign contaminant was rather puzzling, however. It appeared to be a Highly Carnivorous Izumo Island Acid-Spitting Ant, somewhat famous for not living anywhere but Izumo Island.

"What are you doing in my office?" She interrogated the Ant. She may have been engaged in some light chemical alteration to deal with the frustration of having her favorite stress-reliever out of town while he was running New Recruit Boot Camp.

The ant, being an ant, failed to respond, save to wave it's little antennae and continuing on it's search for fleshmeats to bring back to the colony.

...Return to the colony... Retsu considered, and a flash of inspiration struck. Very carefully, she extracted a small slice of hot dog from the commisary's wednesday lunch of "Beanie Weenies" and places it in the ant's path. As she had hoped, the ant located the hot dog piece by the subtle sensory method of walking into it face-first, examined it to determine it's acceptability as a food source, and then hefted the hot dog slice over it's head, and made an about-face, returning from whence it came.

Grabbing a laser pointer, Retsu followed.

Seeing the captain slowly walking up the hall, hunched over and watching something with intent was hardly the strangest thing to happen in the fourth, and being told "Move aside, I'm tracking a problem" while she drew a laser-light circle around the insect in question was downright understandable, and so she was left to stalk in peace.

Eventually, the ant disappeared under the door of a Broom closet. It was a Perfectly Ordinary Broom closet, just off the Neonatal wing, and utterly unremarkable, save for the handwritten sign on the door:

"DANGER! VENOMOUS ANIMALS! KEEP OUT!!"

The sign was illustrated with remarkably good drawings of snakes, spiders and wasps.

"Hm." Said Restu, considering the closet's proximity to the Seireitei's tiniest and most helpless infants. "Not Ideal."

Carefully, she tried the door.

It was locked, at least.

Slightly less carefully, she rattled the knob until the ancient pin-tumbler inside rattled open, and then she more carefully opened the door.

When a cobra failed to leap out and bite her in the face, she reached in and turned on the light.

Inside was a fascinating little gem of zoology. Easily Twenty terrariums had been crammed into the tiny closet, filled with meticulously cared-for venomous animals of every shape, size and persuasion. Near the door were the Izumo Island Acid-Spitting Ants, gleefully examining and disassembling the Hot dog slice, whose terrarium lid seemed to have been bumped askew by the door at some point. After watching another sentry return, she pushed the lid closed with a snap, before turning her attention to the rest of the Menagerie of Pain.

Whoever had assembled the collection had organized them by care needs- the room had a Hot and Cold side each, as well as Dark and Bright sides, and the animals that needed dry enclosures were at the top, getting progressively damper until the aquariums at the bottom. And so many splendid creatures! Klein-Bottle-Web Spiders! Barking Scorpions!

"...Is that a Sea-Cave Remipede? I didn't know those could be kept in captivity!" Retsu blinked in surprise. Minazuki emerged, fluttering as she peered into the aquariums- and down here-! Orange-cubed octopi! and good grief are those Horned Sea Snails? Brave man whoever keeps these- they have to be hand-fed and if the snail decides to dart his finger instead of the feeder fish he's a goner.

"Never mind that, he's got half the Elapid family up here-" Retsu said, standing on her toes before getting on top of the folding chair in the middle of the room. "Look at that! Morel Snakes, Farter's Sea snake, a Queen Cobra- and this tank's got Vipers- good grief where did he even GET a Lance-de-Fer?"

Look at these things, the look like little plastic toys, or candies! Minazuki chortled as the tank of brightly colored frogs. The devil is this? A ...Pitohui?

The Apparently-Venomous bird whistled at her, intrigued but not alarmed. Something in The Big Tank at the back of the closet splashed, and both Doctor and Zanpaktou turned their attention to it

"A turtle?" Retsu pondered, for the size and shape of the amphibious enclosure, but once her eyes adjusted to the tanks dim light, she and Minazuki stood there for several silent minutes, watching the strange creature paddle about, digging it's beak into the mud at the bottom of it's tank for worms, and surfacing to breathe and rake the long claws of it's webbed feet through its... fur.

..It looks fake. Minazuki finally said, bewildered. I'm watching it move and eat and swim and it looks fake, like some badly taxidermied curio meant to swindle tourists.

"-Not some strange spirit made flesh then?" Retsu said, squinting at the label in the corner of the tank. "Ornithorhynchus paradoxus- it sure is!" She laughed.

Well? What should we do about this? Minazuki waved a flipper to indicate the entire zoo. I'm not sure if we should promote their keeper for his dedication to the study of venom, or if we should fire him for putting his lab next to the neonatal ward.

"Let's see what he has to say for himself." Decided Retsu, moving the folding chair to the middle of the room, re-locking the door, turning the light off, and sitting down.

...You always were one for Dramatics. Sighed Minazuki, settling on the floor beside her and waiting, eye wide in gleeful anticipation

She did not have to wait long before there was the sound of someone running up the stairs, panting, and a carabiner of keys jingling, the door being unlocked and a small, moderately disheveled and scatterbrained-looking young man stepped in, apologizing for being late he couldn't find his boss anywhere-

"-so I had to submit the paperwork for all the research I've been doing with you guys to the drop-box which is hidden on the 7th floor next to urology for some reason but I'm here now and I've got nice juicy crickets and mice for-"

He flicked on the light to find his aforementioned boss sitting in a folding chair, waiting for him like some kind of fucked up ghost.

"-UNOHANA-TAICHO!?"

She regarded his appropriately terrified visage for a moment. "...Yamada, right?"

The young man nodded mutely, still frozen like a better-taxidermied-than-whatever-the-thing-behind-her-was rabbit. "Y- Yes Ma'am. Um. Captain. I'm Hanataro Yamada. Sir."

"...I'll take a cricket, but after you explain what the hell this is." She decided.

"Oh!" he yelped, startled to still be alive. "Well- uh- I actually just submitted the paperwork for the research permissions for this upstairs but the thing is, see, venom is, well, are- they're all terribly biologically active substances, and I was reading your research paper you submitted for your seated officer's proposal about toxic plants and the medicines that could be derived from them because so many medicines are really just poisons, dosed between "fatal to the problem" and "fatal to the patient", and um- well I thought, that's got to be doubly true of venomous animals because venom is meant to cause profound chemical reactions in other animals, so I figured if I could extract, analyze and isolate specific compounds, that there's a lot of new potential drugs and cures lurking in these creature like, um- oh, uh, the Vipers up there kill their prey primarily through the use of fast-acting anticoagulants, which have potential applications in heart disease cures, but the Klein-Bottle-Web spiders work with fast-acting coagulants, produced in the same glands as their silk, so I was hoping to develop bandages that can stop bleeding on a chemical level as well. And- oh! these Sea-cave Remipedes can cause intense hallucinations, which is not ideal when you're scuba-diving in a cave to find them but in smaller doses, it looks like the compounds they produce act as anti-psychotics, and um- oh yeah, the little butter frogs- the yellow ones- yeah, the venom they excrete has got a ton of really interesting anti-inflammatory properties and the bird up there excretes a mild neuroinhibitor and the Platypus- It's an extremely primitive mammal, even moreso than marsupials, and the males- that one is Billy, for Billabong- um, bad pun, don't worry about it-um, it's got these venomous spurs on his hind legs that produce a venom that is a Neuro-enhancer, of all things, as well as a host of anti-microbial compounds that STING if he gets a kick in, but apparently they really only produce them during mating season so I may have to get him a sheila- that's what the guide said the females were called- and. Um. Yeah. That's. Well, I was hoping to get a research grant so I could keep them somewhere a little more secure. and. not right next to the neonatal ward." he sputtered.

Retsu watched him blankly for a second, then held out her hand, expectant.

Yamada looked down at her hand, confused, then, remembering their earlier conversation, cautiously opened up the plastic tub he was clutching and delicately placed a single cricket in her open palm.

Without hesitation, she popped it in her mouth, the crunching audible in the awkward silence of the room as she made up her mind.

"Seventh-Seat Maomao is retiring later this year, and I will need a new Toxicologist." She declared. "If you've been hand-feeding the horned snails, you're brave enough for the job, and if you've figured out a different method, you're smart enough for it. I want all of this packed up and in level 4 Secure onditions by morning, Doctor Yamada." she nodded.

"Th- thank you taicho!" he yelped, Billy The Platypus splashing excitedly. "I look forward to your work, Hanataro." She smiled, and the boy very nearly fainted.

#aeiwam #an elephant is warm and mushy #Bleach #bleach fanfiction #Retsu Unohana #yamada hanataro

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yanban-san · 11 months

Text

"Ingo, darling, would you please let some light in?"

"…It's not even light outside yet, little Love." You pouted, and were about to retort- But you were stopped by the feeling of something strangely cold and liquid wrapping around your arms and snaking it's way across your back. The ephemeral mass pulled you into the softness of your bed, shifting and coiling and moving- A darkness you could stare into forever, triggering the appearance of shapes and colors before your eyes that weren't really there.

"Why must you rise with the Sun, Darling? Stay and rest with me. The world will wait." The sonorous voice rumbled in your ears, echoing all around you. A deep, muttered growl- Or perhaps a purr. Something intertwined with your hands, and something else coiled around your shoulder. "The world might wait," You answered back, "But my stomach certainly won't. Can't I go get some breakfast?"

"Hrn," The thing wrapped around you groaned in annoyance- And suddenly you felt something weighty in your hand. A bowl.

A bowl of pecha berries.

"I would rather this satisfy you for now, little Love." Nobori grumbled. You sighed- And ate the berries. Sweeter than normal, and perfectly ripe. As always. "I still wanna get up."

Nobori did not reply- And you set the bowl down, thinking of your next move.

"…Do I need to ask a certain brother of yours for assistance?" You goaded. "Absolutely not," Nobori replied. "…Surely you do not despise my embrace so much you would invoke my own brother against me?"

"Of course not, dear, but…" You squeezed the shadowy hand holding your own. "I would like to get up."

Nobori growled- And half whined. "…I do not want you to get up right now. Can you not stay for a little longer?" You felt something press against you. Heavy, silken, shifting- Cold yet warm, yet stiff, yet hollow- No matter how long you stayed with them, the form of Nobori always eluded description to you. "Why though?" You asked.

"…I have my reasons." He answered.

The thing twitched and shivered in the dark. And you hummed, wondering what to do. It certainly wasn't unpleasant being wrapped up in Nobori's shadows- But you wanted to get on with your day. And you knew the Depot Agents would be missing their beloved Boss. This behavior was quite unlike Ingo too, you knew. Normally he was last to come to bed and first to rise- It was rare you did not see him in his human form, or even a pseudo human appearance.

So why now?

The shadows continued to coil around you. Small little you. Precious little you. Holder of his heart, who could have the Earth bent and shaped to your whims if only you would ask- Normally. Nobori knew it was... Well, rather wrong of him to be holding you hostage. He always did his best to be respectful of your will, but... And it was difficult to admit to himself, too, the reason why he wanted to have you to himself.

You felt something rub against your cheek. Something else twist around your leg, coiling around your thighs-

"I-Ingo," You stuttered, feeling your face flush with warmth- Which made the shadows so much colder as they continued to rub against you-

Or would it be better to call it nuzzling?

"Ingo- Are you... Do you... Are you wanting me to cuddle you?"

"...I merely wish your for your company and affections, my Dear."

"...So you want cuddles."

Something swished in the dark- Like wispy cobwebs collecting around a duster, so to did the shadows suddenly gather into something more corporeal- Tendrils sweeping into shadowy shapes that dared to let the smallest sparks of sunlight trickle into your room as the void pooled into a dark ink, dripping and undulating into a vague, humanoid shape.

"I... I would like to cuddle you. I would like it very much, love. I want to hold you."

The creature grasped at you again, and from it's sorrowful looking facade of a face, you could tell just how despondent your darling was.

Perhaps you could let Nobori win this once.

"Well then, come here." You beckoned, and suddenly the dripping ink expanded again- Except this time you were practically floating in it. A hand grabbed your arm, another wrapped around your stomach, one around your leg, another around your other leg- Gently stroking at your limbs and rubbing your back, and something smooth and firm purring into your neck.

"Mmm... Soft." He hummed. And the shadows went quiet- And so did you. Might as well catch some more snoozing. And as you drifted off again, you could've sworn you heard a quiet, whispered hush of a voice- Almost off in the distance.

"You've been a verrrry bad brother, keeping our soulmate all to yourself like this. I want to cuddle them too."

...Oh dear.

#Eldritch AU #Eldritch Submas #Monster AU #Demon AU #Emmet X Reader #Ingo x Reader #Emmet X Reader X Ingo #Ingo X Reader X Emmet #Emmet/Reader #Ingo/Reader #x Reader

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razzle-zazzle · 3 months

Text

Brothers

9650 Words; Between AU, pre-canon

TW for death

AO3 ver

Gristle Junior was seven months and eleven days old on the day of his first Trollstice.

Or rather, he was seven months and eleven days old on what would have been his first Trollstice, were it not for the lack of trolls. And the day had started so well, too, anticipation electric in his veins as he bounced around his father’s room. He had been so ready to taste true happiness!

But the Trolls were gone, fleeing underground despite the best efforts of Chef’s underlings. Not a single Troll had been recovered, Gristle had been told, and from what little he had been able to see of the commotion—from the swinging shovels and pickaxes he had glimpsed in the plaza as he was being shuffled away from the action—supported that notion. Surely, if Trolls were being found, then surely there would be much less frustration.

But the day passed without a single Troll eaten. Gristle’s father, for who he had been named, had taken him aside to calmly explain that with no Trolls, Gristle would never be happy. Not ever. Nothing else could possibly work.

To a Bergen less than a year old, such words were absolute. And why should Gristle doubt his father? The King had lived for decades, an extent of time which felt like an eternity to Gristle Junior. Surely, if there was anyone who could know everything, it would be the King.

Gristle was seven months and eleven days old on the last chance he would ever have to know true happiness. The date clung to his mind, the damnation of eternal misery heavy in his chest. To a Bergen so young and inexperienced with the world, there could be nothing worse.

Chef was disgraced. Not a single Troll recovered, in all of that mess? Her exile was quick and loud—Gristle watched from the castle door with his father as Chef was bodily thrown through the gates, shouting curses he strained to hear. With a sigh, Gristle moved to turn away from the door, prepared to ready himself for bed.

“Your Majesty!” Two Bergens hailed down his father, bowing the moment the King’s eyes were on them. “We found…” The Bergen on the left had his hands cupped together oddly, perfectly concealing whatever would be inside. With a nudge from his partner, he bowed again, holding out whatever it was to the King. “We found this at the tree’s edge.”

Gristle Junior turned back towards the door, pressing against his father’s legs to peer at what was so urgent it couldn’t wait for daylight. The air was thick with anticipation as the Bergen’s fingers slowly parted, revealing what was delicately clasped in his hands.

It was a Troll.

Gristle’s eyes widened. His father inhaled sharply, peering down at the tiny shape curled in the palm.

The Troll stared up at them with wide eyes, curled in on itself and shaking. It was so small. How did creatures that small even exist?

The King hummed, leaning in further. Gristle Junior was quick to imitate, peering at the tiny Troll even more intently. This brought to light a detail that had been previously overlooked—a detail that seven month and eleven day old Gristle had no filter against pointing out.

“It’s gray.” Gristle said, peering down at the thing. Tiny, too. Could something so little really bring him happiness? “Is it sick?” He poked at the Troll, and it flinched back with a hiss, tail clutched in its paws.

“Inedible.” Gristle Senior growled out. He turned bared teeth to the pair before them. “Your effort is appreciated.” He said, “But there’s no use for a Troll that’s gone bad.” The King sighed, moving to reenter the castle. “Do as you wish with it.” He dismissed. “My son and I…”

Gristle Junior reached for the Troll. “It’s so small.” He whispered, staring down at it. Small and gray and baring blunted teeth in an approximation of a snarl… He looked up at the pair, eyes wide. “Can I have it?”

The Bergen holding the Troll hesitated, before tilting his hands towards Gristle. The Troll squeaked as Gristle scooped it up, voice tiny. Gristle squealed, clutching the Troll and running back inside, the rest of the world forgotten.

The Troll turned bewildered eyes up to Gristle. It trembled, shouting as Gristle turned a corner, but Gristle paid no heed to anything but the sheer novelty of his idea. His very own Troll! There was hardly much of a plan in the toddler’s head, but a simple idea was all Gristle really needed at his age.

Gristle bounced into his bedroom, Troll in hand. He moved to set the Troll down on the desk—

“Son!” Gristle Senior’s voice was seldom so loud—but when it was, it commanded attention from everyone in the area. And indeed, Gristle Junior turned his attention to his father, the Troll still squirming in his hand. “What are you doing?” Gristle had never heard his father at such a loss.

“Keeping it.” Gristle Junior said.

Gristle Senior walked across the room and peered down at the Troll on the desk, trapped between Gristle Junior’s hands. “A pet is a lot of responsibility, son.” He pointed out.

“You say the same about being Prince.” Gristle Junior responded.

Gristle Senior jolted slightly, taken aback. “That… is true.” He conceded. “But it’s a Troll.” He poked the Troll in question, sending it stumbling backwards onto the ground. “It will just get eaten.”

“But you said gray Trolls are inebidable!” Gristle Junior lifted the Troll—his Troll, up with cradled hands, pressing it against his chest. “That they’ve got no use, which means that eating them can’t do anything!”

“Inedible.” Gristle Senior corrected gently. He lowered down, to be closer to his son’s eye level. “Son, be realistic. The kingdom just lost all of its Trolls. Trollstice has been a tradition for more than a century. The shock of no more Trollstices will make the people desperate.”

The Troll stared up from Gristle Junior’s hands with wide eyes. Tiny claws too small to do any damage dug into Gristle Junior’s hand.

Gristle Junior huffed. “But they gotta listen to you, Daddy. You’re the King.” The people had listened when the King declared Chef exiled; Gristle had witnessed just that less than an hour ago. “If you say that my Troll is inedidible then nobody will eat it!”

The King sighed, tired and heavy. “You’ll need something to keep it in.” He advised. As his son cheered, he turned to the door, and made his way across the room. Once Gristle Senior reached the doorframe, he turned back to his son one more time.

“If I wake up tomorrow and find that thing is running around the castle, I will feed it to Barnabus.” He threatened. His face immediately lightened, and he left the room with a single, cheery, “Goodnight, son!”

Gristle Junior nodded at the closed door with the utmost seriousness. He turned back to his Troll, who he set on the desk gently. “Hear that?” He asked. “You stay in here, or else.” With that, Gristle propped his face up in his hands, leaning forwards. “My name’s Gristle. Yours?”

The Troll crossed tiny Troll arms and glared up at him. “I’m not telling.” It said, in a voice that reminded Gristle of the mice Barnabus ate.

“Then I’ll just give you one!” Gristle chirped. “How about… Trolly!”

“No.”

Gristle frowned. “You’re getting a name, no matter what.” He huffed, poking his Troll in the side. The Troll stumbled a bit, but remained standing. “You’re so grumpy.” Gristle noticed. “Just like… a Bergen…” He trailed off, something approaching realization creeping up his throat.

The Troll snarled. “Not a Bergen!” It insisted, tail smacking the desk.

Gristle stared. “You…” His eyes lit up. “You and I are gonna be best friends.” Gristle decided, poking his Troll again.

The Troll’s response was simple. Gristle yelped, yanking his hand back. The Troll fell over, rubbing at its mouth with tiny paws, and Gristle stared at the tiny teeth marks on his finger.

The Troll glared mutinously, as if daring Gristle to come within biting range again.

Gristle nodded. “Yep! Best friends!”

+=+=+=+=+

Gristle Junior was nine months and two days old when he learned the Troll’s name. He had been poring through a pet care magazine, oo-ing and ah-ing over the different kinds of pets that Bergens kept. From alligator-dogs like Barnabus to even frog-crows!

He had hit the section for small pets, though none of the kinds commonly kept by Bergens were as small as a Troll. He looked over at the custom cage his father had had commissioned for his Troll, from the pod taken from the abandoned Troll Tree to the sandy substrate in the basin. As usual, his Troll was down on the substrate, pressed into the corner while it worked its way through safflower seeds.

“Look!” Gristle held the magazine right up against the cage bars, pointing at the circled bird perch. “How does a swing sound? I bet you’d have a lot of fun with it, Trolly.” He didn’t expect a response—the Troll rarely ever spoke back, content with glaring and darting away when Gristle reached into the cage.

Which meant it surprised him all the more when the tiny creature spoke. “Branch.”

Gristle opened his mouth to continue speaking—stopped. “What?”

“Branch.” The Troll repeated. “My name is Branch.” Its eyes were locked resolutely on the sandy substrate, shoulders hunched and tail thwap-thwap-thwapping against the corner.

Gristle gasped. “Oh!” He’d never thought—he—Branch—

“That’s a weird name.” Gristle finally decided, leaning in. “Are all Trolls named like that?” He couldn’t quite read well enough to digest all the books he’d found about Trolls (or that had Trolls on the covers), so his only real source of information was what former Troll-handlers Chad and Todd (or was it Todd and Chad?) could tell him, when he saw them. Which wasn’t often.

Branch gave Gristle a deer in headlights look, a helpless sort of “how-would-I-know” conveyed through body language alone. Paws clenched and unclenched against the seed held between them.

Gristle shrugged, and went back to the magazine. “So,” He said, “You never said if you wanted a swing.”

“Don’t bother.” Branch huffed. “I won’t use it.”

+=+=+=+=+

Gristle Junior was five years old when his father led him into his study for the first time. The younger marveled at the book-filled shelves and neatly organized desk, at the candle holders set into the wall and the banners hanging down—this room was his future.

“My son,” Gristle Senior began. “What you will be starting today is a time-honored tradition of Bergen Royalty.” His voice had a practiced lilt, a deep timbre made of years of self-assurance. “For no Monarch rules Bergentown alone—it is the duty of Princes and Princesses to run the kingdom in concert with the reigning monarch.”

“Whoaaa…” Gristle Junior hopped up and down to see atop the desk. “I’m a Prince!” He realized, whirling around to face his father. “So I have to help you run!”

Gristle Senior chuffed. When he spoke, there was pride in his voice. “And that is exactly what you will start learning today.” He lifted his son with one arm, sitting down behind the desk and settling Gristle Junior in his lap. “Now,” He pushed a stack of books from the edge of the desk to the center. “Here are the best volumes to start with…”

The lesson continued on throughout the rest of the morning. After lunch with his father, Gristle Junior returned to his room with the stack of books he had been given, ready and willing to learn. He pushed open the door, and made his way over to the desk right next to his bed.

“There’s so many books I need to read!” Gristle lamented. “How am I ever going to learn it all?” He’d have to, though, to be a proper Prince of Bergentown. And he would! Bergens were tough, and royal Bergens were said to be the toughest of all! So Gristle would be the best Prince! No book could defeat someone as tough as him!

He was starting with history. But there was so much! He held out the book to Branch’s cage, showing off just how thick it was—and it was all pre-Trollstice, too!

Branch squinted at the tome, then returned to his digging. He’d been doing a lot of that lately. Which was weird, because Trolls were supposed to live in trees—every book Gristle had read on them said so. But the pod in Branch’s cage—taken directly from the Troll Tree, no less—remained just as empty as it always had. There was even dust building up along the top!

“I mean, how in the world am I ever going to remember all this?” Gristle slammed the book down on his desk, prying it open. He was glad for Branch—the Troll was a good listener, in the five year old’s eyes.

The Troll in question poked his head back up, ears twitching. “Are you going to read it, or are you just gonna complain?” He asked, before going back to the hole.

“Right.” Gristle turned his attention back to the book. Slowly, he began, sounding out the words as best he could.

“The first re-cor-did history of Bergenkind dates back to… three… fow-sand years ago.” He began. “When Fow-ler the First wrote the… the first ever Law.” He continued reading, stumbling over words while Branch continued digging. Gristle let the history wash over him, entranced in the task set before him. Hours passed, and Gristle found himself being called down to dinner before he even registered that so much time had passed.

Three days later, Gristle found himself staring at a worksheet in frustration. He was supposed to fill it out without looking at his books, and he was struggling.

“UGH!” Gristle threw his head back, clutching at his hair as he seethed. “How can I remember the name of the first Bergen to write a law but not when?!” He smacked his head against the desk, groaning in frustration. The urge to go to his shelf and pull out the relevant book itched down his spine—but he had to hold strong! A good Prince knew how to look things up, but a great Prince could recall whatever detail was needed when it was needed.

Oh, how was Gristle ever supposed to be a great Prince?

“The first recorded history of Bergenkind dates back to three thousand years ago.” Branch said, casually breaking the frustrated silence. “That’s what your book said.”

Gristle looked at Branch’s cage, where the Troll was busy jotting stuff down on a scrap of paper. Gristle then looked over to the book on his shelf. Slowly, he pushed out his chair and went over to the shelf, opening the book to the first page.

“That’s…” He turned back to Branch. “You’ve got a good memory.” He said, returning the book to the shelf.

Branch muttered something that Gristle didn’t quite catch. Gristle shrugged, and went back to his worksheet. He’d have to read aloud to Branch more often, if Branch could remember stuff so well.

With a hum, Gristle continued on with the worksheet. It probably wasn’t in the spirit of the challenge to have a friend who could remember a lot of words, but Gristle wasn’t concerned at all with that notion.

He continued to talk to Branch as he worked, something light in his chest with the knowledge that Branch really was listening.

+=+=+=+=+

Gristle Junior was six years old, and he and Branch were having a real good row. The kind of row that, had they been proper siblings, would have only been able to be settled by some proper Bergen roughhousing, with weapons and property destruction. A real riot-causing dispute.

It was hardly their first disagreement—Gristle had the faint bite scars all over his fingers to prove it. But it was certainly frustrating, born from weeks of buildup over a simple fact.

“It’s not healthy! Trolls are supposed to sing!” Gristle gestured to the book in his hand, which was way more useful than all the cookbooks he’d found. It actually went a bit into Troll health and growth, detailing all the ways and times that Trolls could become inedible. As Branch was, and had always been gray—or at least, as long as Gristle had known him—the book in question proved very useful.

“Well I don’t!” And that was the crux of the situation, the simple fact from which all of this had spawned. “And I never will!” Branch’s stand was resolute, unshakeable, even in the face of all of Gristle’s Princely Rage.

“But you have to!” Gristle insisted, gesturing again to the page he had the book opened to. “Trolls that don’t sing—this book isn’t very nice about them!” He was fumbling, he knew, but he didn’t know how else to say it. The book said that gray Trolls were to be removed from the Troll Tree and disposed of immediately. It didn’t say why, and Gristle was still a child—he didn’t question the words presented as fact. As far as he could tell, a Troll that had gone gray was just… it wasn’t right!

“You’re supposed to be happy.” Gristle pushed. “You’re supposed to sing, like a regular Troll.”

“Never gonna happen.” Branch insisted. “I’ll stay unhappy, just you watch!” He crossed his arms with a huff, tail twitching angrily.

“That’s not good!” Gristle responded. “You have to get your color back eventually!” The book said nothing about whether Trolls could regain their color after losing it. But it wasn’t right, for a creature so intertwined with music to never make a single note. And if the book said to get rid of gray Trolls…

Gristle cared about Branch, more than he could feasibly admit. The castle staff were fine, and his father was his father, but Branch—Branch was a friend. Someone Gristle could talk to who would actually listen, no matter what it was.

The book said it wasn’t healthy for a Troll to go gray. Gristle was going to be King someday, in the far distant future, and he’d be responsible for all of Bergentown. Even sooner, he would be a fully fledged Prince, responsible for helping his father with Bergentown. If Gristle couldn’t even take care of one tiny troll, then what were his chances of ever being good at what he was literally meant to do?

“And then what?” Branch gripped the bars of his cage, rage in every inch of his body. “You’ll eat me?”

“Of course not!” Gristle could never! Branch was… Branch was his friend! Inedible by Royal Decree! Gristle would sooner eat Barnabus!

“You’re lying!” Branch yelled back. “The moment I become edible you or some other Bergen will be serving me up on a silver platter!” His tail lashed about wildly, tears bubbling up at the corners of his eyes. “Because that’s all Trolls are to you!”

Gristle flinched back. He… he refused to admit it, but Branch had a point. Trolls were the only way that Bergens could ever be happy, and they had spent generations with a holiday dedicated to that very thing. But…

“You’re different.” Gristle insisted. Branch was his friend. “You’re not… you never sing and you’re always unhappy.” He huffed. “It’s like you’re barely a Troll at all!”

This time it was Branch’s turn to flinch, tail falling flat against the ground. “Maybe you’re right.” He said quietly, turning away from the bars.

“Branch, I—” Gristle reached out, only for his hand to fall back down when Branch glared at him.

“Fine, then.” Gristle grumbled. “We’ll just be unhappy together.” Between the two of them, Branch was the only one who had even a chance to ever be happy—Gristle would never get to eat a Troll with all of them gone, but Branch… Branch was a Troll. If anyone would ever get to be happy, it would be the creature who was quite literally made of the stuff.

“Fine!” Branch sat down hard on the substrate, arms crossed and turned away from Gristle. “Unhappy together!”

It felt like a promise, like a finality.

It felt like Gristle was failing hard at this whole “taking care of others” thing.

+=+=+=+=+

Gristle Junior was seven years old with a form in his hand. He stood before Branch’s cage, expanded over the years to include deeper substrate and a small climbing tree. The… well, it felt weird to call him a Troll, when he was nothing like Gristle’s books, but what else could he be called?

A Bergen. At least, that was what he��d be if Gristle’s idea went through.

“I’ve been learning about law.” Gristle began, with no real preamble. Branch looked up from his orange slice, ears twitching, but made no comment. “And I found out something interesting.” He took a deep breath, and glanced at the memo in his hand. “Adoption Laws, Section Two. In the case of a non-Bergen being adopted by a Bergen or other being of Bergen citizenry…” Gristle hurriedly looked at the memo again, “They are considered, in all aspects of the law, a Bergen, with all of the rights and restrictions that such a designation entails.” He let the memo flutter down to the floor and looked down at Branch, who was staring up at him with wide eyes.

Branch clenched and unclenched his paws against the half-eaten orange slice in his lap, tail flicking behind him. “...what.”

“Listen.” Gristle leaned in close, holding up the form in his other hand. “If I adopt you, then you wouldn’t be in any more danger of being eaten!”

Branch squinted. “Aren’t you a little young to be a parent?” He asked, orange slice seemingly forgotten in his lap. “And I’m older than you.” He pointed out, somewhat bitterly.

“Ew! No! Not as a son!” Gristle waved his arms wildly, then pressed the form against the bars again. “As a brother.” He clarified. “Because… you’re more of a friend than a pet,” Gristle explained, “And it’s not fair to keep treating you like one. A pet.” He carefully gaged Branch’s expressions, watching as his face flickered through a series of emotions. “All you’d need to do is sign on this line…”

“It can’t be that easy.” Branch groused, tail flicking faster. “Bergens don’t do ‘easy’.”

“Well,” Gristle rubbed at the back of his neck, “We would have to get approval from Dad for it to go through.” He rallied, clenching his free hand in a fist. “But that’s easy! I mean, he let me keep you!”

“As a pet.” Branch stressed. He set the orange slice aside, brushing off his paws as he stood. “That’s totally different.”

“And that’s why I want to do this!” Gristle unlatched the cage door, not bothering to reach in—he had long since learned that Branch hated being picked up unexpectedly. Better to let Branch come out of the cage on his own terms. “Because what kind of Prince treats his friend like a pet?”

Branch’s expression fell, his shoulders hunching. His paws clenched and unclenched in the rhythmic way they often did, his tail flicking. Carefully, slowly, Branch clambered out of the cage, climbing down the flipped out door to settle on the smooth wood of the shelf. Gristle held out his hand, palm up, and Branch hopped onto it, letting himself be lifted over to the desk.

Gristle laid out the form. He’d double-checked every word to make sure it was exactly what he needed, and all that was left was to sign it and have it approved. Gristle had already signed it, his name penned in only slightly messy ink. Penmanship win!

Branch pulled a tiny quill from his hair, hopping up to gently dab it in the inkwell on the desk. As Gristle watched, Branch kneeled down in front of his line, and carefully signed his name.

“Think that’ll be enough?” Gristle asked.

Branch hummed. “Maybe…” He tucked the quill away and went back to the inkwell, hopping up and leaning so far in that for a moment Gristle feared he’d fall in. Branch kicked the side and lifted himself back and out, clambering over to the form and slapping right next to his name with his paws.

Two inky paw prints, right next to his name. “That should do it.” Branch decided, satisfied.

Gristle nodded, offering his hand again. As Branch hopped onto his palm and clambered up Gristle’s arm to his shoulder, Gristle grabbed the form carefully, blowing a bit to make the ink dry faster.

“Let’s get this done!” Gristle declared, running off to go find his father. It wasn’t the first time Branch had left Gristle’s room, nor the first time that Branch had ridden on Gristle’s shoulder. But it was the first time since the belled harness had been made that Branch had left the room without the jingle of bells signaling his every movement. Gristle realized it was weird, actually, to feel the weight on his shoulder and not hear the sound of bells he’d come to associate with that weight. But the harness was from when Branch was still a pet in everyone’s eyes—it wouldn’t do to make Branch wear it now.

And really, Branch was like a Bergen, in a lot of ways. He never sang or danced, he was disagreeable—even the gray of his short fur was similar to the average Bergen’s dull tones. Whenever he had something to work on, be it the den he’d dug or even old worksheets Gristle tried to downsize for him, he took to working on it just like a Bergen: with a grumble and the focused spirit that allowed Bergens to create sturdy walls and buildings. And he had interesting insights, too—Bergens disliked great heights, so even the castle couldn’t get very tall, but it was Branch who gave Gristle the idea to suggest subterranean expansion when the King presented the age-old issue of expansion logistics. Which was just funny, because Trolls lived in trees—yet Branch never once touched the dusty pod hanging in his cage.

Branch settled down on Gristle Junior’s shoulder, tucked just below Gristle’s ear. Gristle found a sudden bounce in his step, a mix of anticipation and excitement in his veins. Yeah, this whole adoption thing was a great idea! Maybe even the best Gristle had ever had!

Finding the King was easy—it was just before lunch, so King Gristle Senior would be just finishing up with the final petitioners in the biweekly levee. Normally, Gristle Junior would be sitting in his own princely throne beside his father, to listen and watch and get a general idea of how a levee worked—but he had… kinda skipped it, what with how eager he was to try out the adoption idea. Not that that was a major issue—Gristle Junior wasn’t meant to fully step into his duties as Prince until he was ten.

Still…

“Ah, there you are.” King Gristle Senior groused, shifting slightly in his throne. “Care to explain why you missed today’s levee?”

Gristle Junior stopped short, nodding his head in a bow. “My apologies, Father.” He kept his tone careful, regal, like he’d been taught. “I found something that needed attending to.” He explained, head still down.

Gristle Senior snorted. “Well, out with it, then.” He waved his hand encouragingly as his son looked up. “What grand idea did you come up with this time?”

Gristle Junior’s mouth pulled back in an odd way, and he fought the strange expression off of his face. With a simple flourish, he drew out the form, holding it out towards his father. “This.”

Gristle Senior took the form, glancing it over. His expression remained neutr—his eyes widened, as the contents of the form properly registered. The King’s expression scrunched, turning thunderous, before going down to mere annoyance. He turned that annoyance upon his son, and all but sputtered out, “What in the name of Berg is the meaning of this?!”

“It’s an adoption form.” Gristle Junior explained, pressing his hands together. He felt Branch shift slightly on his shoulder, and he held out a palm. Branch took the offer, sliding down Gristle’s arm to stand upon his hand, small and gray and steady.

“I can… see that.” Gristle Senior hissed through ground teeth. “But…” His expression became just as lost as the night that Gristle Junior had first met Branch. With a deep sigh, Gristle Senior looked down at his son and the Troll.

“Letting you keep a Troll as a pet is one thing,” The King began, “But adoption? Of a Troll? Are you insane?”

Gristle Junior felt oddly gobsmacked. “It makes sense.” He tried, unable to keep childish uncertainty from his voice. “Branch is the most unTroll Troll ever, he’s just like a Bergen and I think it’d be best if he was called as such, because then nobody would even think to eat him!”

Gristle Senior sighed, heavy and tired. “That’s not a good enough reason.” He started. “Son, do you have any idea what would happen if that… thing were to become your brother?”

“It’d be a serious crime to eat him.” Gristle Junior responded easily.

Gristle Senior brought up his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, grumbling too low for Gristle Junior to make out the words. “...of all the—” With a rumbling groan, Gristle Senior regarded his son with a firm—but not wholly uncaring—expression. “You’re a Prince, my son. You can’t just go adopting every creature you see fit.”

“It’s just Branch.” Gristle Junior pushed back, “He’s already close enough to a Bergen, what’s adding the legal distinction going to do?” He shook his head. “This will all work out, Dad, I know it. I just need you to trust me.”

“Son, be realistic.” The King groused. “If that thing becomes your brother, then that makes it a Prince. There’s no way a Troll could be a Bergen Prince! Trolls are all about loud parties and sugar and silly games—they’re simply unsuited to laws and regulations and the hard work required to run a kingdom!”

Gristle Junior’s mouth opened—to say what, he wasn’t sure, but air was being forced up from his lungs and defiance was roaring in his heart, ready to burst out what would surely be a useful and clever retort—

“I can do it.”

As one, Gristle Junior and Senior turned to look at Branch. Branch took the combined attention with hunched shoulders, his tail clasped in his paws. “You want me to learn how to help run a kingdom? Fine. I’ll do it. I’ll learn.” He dropped his tail and crossed his arms, expression firm.

“I don’t want you doing anything of the sort.” Gristle Senior growled, but Gristle Junior was already rallying.

“He can! Branch is smart, Dad, he’s where I got the idea for underground expansions from! He remembers all the stuff I read, and he listens, and he’d make a good Prince!” All of his reasons were true and proven—which meant a lot, for seven year old Gristle Junior.

“Preposterous!” Gristle Senior began—

“If you think it’s so preposterous,” Branch’s voice cut through the room like alligator-dog teeth through mice. “Then why not bet on it?”

Those three words echoed in the sudden silence of the room, bouncing off the vaulted ceiling and tangling up in the eaves. If there was one thing Gristle Junior knew his father could not resist, it was a wager.

Indeed, Gristle Senior’s face had turned contemplative, his hands steepled before him. “A bet, you say?” Something like satisfaction slithered its way onto his face. “Hmm, I think I see what you mean. A trial period, of sorts, is that it? To find out if you could even come close to being a Prince?”

Branch nodded.

“Yeah!” Gristle Junior agreed. “If Branch can prove himself then you have to let the adoption go through!”

Gristle Senior snorted. “Sure, fine.” He waved his hand dismissively, before turning his attention to Branch. “But when that little creature fails to keep up the pace, I’m burning that form and you’re going to put any wild ideas of adopting Trolls out of your head for good.” He glared down at the pair, lips curled in a derisive snarl.

“You have three weeks.” Gristle Senior declared. “Better get started.”

+=+=+=+=+

Gristle Junior was seven years old when he became a brother.

The wager had been… not as hard as Gristle expected. Branch had thrown himself into the challenge with a fervor that was only seen with master artisans undergoing hefty commissions. It had taken a lot of work, in those three weeks, but at the end of it all—

The cage had to be redone, renovated into a proper bedroom. The castle staff found itself expanded by two—Bernice and Groth, who had been hired to aid in the fiddly and sometimes frustrating art of turning tiny, Troll-sized writings into something that could be read by the average Bergen. Branch needed new clothes, and a proper bed, and a shelf for all of the Troll-sized copies he’d made and was making of the various books on Law and history and regulations, and had to attend meals and levees and lessons with Gristle, and—

It was so much. Gristle had known, when he had drafted that first attempt at an adoption form in the castle library, that things would change—but he had never quite imagined the sheer scope of it all. Suddenly, his brother was accompanying him everywhere, riding on Gristle’s shoulder or flinging himself through the halls with his hair. Gristle had heard some of the staff discussing pathways for Branch, where he’d be safe from being stepped on—

There was so much.

But…

Gristle had never had a brother. He had had a friend, in Branch, but it had taken so long for them to really get there. And now, despite how it had felt like the world was ending on that fateful failed Trollstice, all those years ago—

Gristle couldn’t imagine that day going any other way. He didn’t want to imagine a world in which he never met Branch, who was surely a Bergen in Troll skin. Branch was his friend—no, his brother.

“Hey, Branch?” Gristle rolled over and looked at the shelf that Branch’s things currently resided on, at the cage hurriedly covered with a sheet in an approximation of a proper room with real privacy. Late at night, in his unlit room, it barely looked like a cage at all. “Do you ever think about the day we met?”

Branch’s voice filtered down from the shelf. “Not really.” He admitted. “Why should I?” There was something oddly bitter in his voice. “It’s the day I was left behind. Again.”

Gristle Junior wasn’t sure how to unpack that. Or if he ever should. “I won’t leave you behind.” He promised, “‘Cause brothers stick together.” It felt like such a simple truth, to the seven year old Bergen.

There was silence from the shelf. It stretched on, almost uncomfortably so, feeding into the static of the darkness filling the room.

Gristle huffed. “You really are just like a Bergen.” He commented, “Always miserable.” He chuffed, something light in his chest that he didn’t fully register. “And that’s why you know we’ll always stick together.” He said, staring up at the darkness clinging to the ceiling.

“Unhappy together, then.” There was something soft in Branch’s voice—he must have been tired after such a long day.

Gristle sighed. Unhappy together. It sounded like a promise, like a finality.

It sounded like he was finally getting the hang of this whole “taking care of people” thing.

+=+=+=+=+

Gristle Junior was ten years old when he was properly crowned Prince.

The day had been rife with tradition, from a breakfast banquet stocked with imported delicacies to the event itself out in the plaza. The old Troll Tree, withered from its abandonment, stood tall in the center of the space, dominating the whole scene no matter how Gristle Junior tried to look at it.

He fiddled with the clasp on his cape—his Princely cape, paired with his new crown to signify the change in status. The festivities weren’t exactly celebratory—the whole ceremony amounted to more of a town meeting, but with the best catering the royal kitchens could provide. Bergens of all kinds wandered about the plaza, taking advantage of the free food while Gristle Junior—Prince Gristle Junior watched on from his father’s side.

Branch—no, it was Prince Branch, now—stood to Gristle’s side, on a small platform made entirely for the occasion. His own blue cape and silver crown had to be custom-made, instead of passed down, but neither of the brothers were bothered by that fact.

“I still don’t understand how Glixry managed such tiny details.” Gristle commented, focusing in on the silver metal of Branch’s crown. “It even has tiny metal leaves!”

Branch reached up, touching the edges delicately. “It feels so weird.” He decided. “But… not bad.”

“Of course not! You’re a Prince now!” Gristle assured him. “Stand tall and proud, like a proper Bergen.” Gristle commanded, repeating the words he had heard so many times.

“Yeah…” Branch let his paws fall back to his sides, almost hidden under the edges of his cape—but Gristle didn’t miss the way they clenched and unclenched repeatedly.

Branch was older than Gristle, true. But the fact remained that he had started learning later, so it had been decided to crown them both when Gristle came of age, and not a moment sooner. So here they were, brothers crowned together, all of Bergentown around them.

There would be so many more responsibilities, now—Princes helped the reigning monarch run the kingdom, after all. They’d still have to learn as they went, but—

Gristle breathed in deeply. The Bergens—his people—they were all miserable. But they were hardworking and honest, and Gristle would do his best to be the Prince they deserved.

Gristle turned to look back at his brother, who was fiddling with his own cape clasp. Glixry had repurposed one of the bells from Branch’s old harness for the clasp, and even now it still faintly rung as Branch slowly paced around his little platform.

There was an odd expression on Branch’s face, satisfaction and an oddly melancholy contemplation firming his brow. Gristle huffed, snapping his little-big brother from whatever thoughts he was lost in. Gristle offered his hand, and Branch rolled his eyes before hopping onto Gristle’s palm.

As Gristle lifted his brother high above his head, something proud surged in his chest, light and electric in his veins. His face twitched in that odd way it sometimes did, but Gristle ignored the feeling in favor of looking out over his people once more.

He was going to be the best Prince Bergentown had ever seen! He and his brother both!

+=+=+=+=+

Gristle Junior was eleven years old when Branch finally pupated.

His book on Troll growth said that Trolls pupated when they were twelve or thirteen. It also went on about how Trolls were utterly inedible in this state, wrapped in their cocoons as their bodies changed and matured.

That Branch’s pupation had come late according to the books was worrying. That it had come at all was a stark reminder of the fact that, for all of his Bergen-like traits, Branch was in some small way still a Troll.

Gristle peered at the dark gray hair cocoon for the umpteenth time. None of his books said anything about whether Trolls could still hear in there, or even what really happened to them outside of “maturation”—all the book really cared to go over was how to identify a pupation cocoon, and that they couldn’t be eaten.

“Even if you can’t hear me,” Gristle began, settling back down with an interesting book he’d found—some kind of romance novel where none of the characters actually got together in the end. He’d heard the librarian going on about how it was a contemplative piece about the nature of connections, so he’d picked it up to go through. “But if you can’t then I’ll just read this book to you all over again when you’re out.”

The cocoon gave no discernible response. Gristle decided that that was fine, and began to read. He made it through a chapter and a half before being summoned for dinner with his father, and he gave the cocoon one final glance as he left the room.

“I see your… brother isn’t joining us again tonight.” Gristle Senior commented, as the first course was brought out.

“I told you, Dad, he’s pupating.” Gristle Junior huffed, licking sticky roe off of his fingers.

“Yes,” Gristle Senior nodded. “Trolls do do that, I’ve heard.” He went silent as the second course arrived, digging in with royal fervor. A few moments later, and he spoke again. “Hopefully this whole thing doesn’t set him too far back.” He commented airily, dabbing at his face with a napkin.

Gristle Junior scowled over his plate as a servant exchanged it for the bowl of soup acting as the third course. “Branch always keeps up.” He asserted. “And we won that bet fair and square, so you can’t go back on your end no matter what.” He sipped from his spoon with a pointedly royal slurp.

“And I have no intentions of backing out.” Gristle Senior slurped just a little harder. “I’m just curious.” And with that, the conversation was over.

Gristle stared down at his soup. Branch would keep up. He would. He always did.

+=+=+=+=+

Gristle was eleven years old, and he was getting concerned.

Nineteen days. The books said that Trolls only pupated for a week, tops. But it had been nineteen days since Branch had disappeared into the spun cocoon, eyes glassy and unfocused. Nineteen days of a silent cocoon.

Gristle had long since finished that first romance novel, and the book on fence safety regulations, and was almost halfway into a book on the history of anchovy farming. And the cocoon still remained!

The worry was starting to affect his Princely duties, too. Maybe it was because he was used to working alongside Branch, and the absence was getting to him, but there was no denying it: Gristle was concerned. But what if trying to crack the cocoon open early ruined everything? What if he was supposed to crack it open, and he’d missed the deadline? What if being gray really was bad, and Branch…

Gristle didn’t want to think about it. He really, really didn’t.

The sun had long gone down when Gristle finally put his books away and retired to his bed. He glanced at the cocoon one last time before extinguishing the lights, worry like a rock in his gut.

The night passed. The sun rose again, creeping into Gristle’s bedroom through the window until it smacked against his eyes. With a groan, the eleven year old sat up, shading his eyes with a hand. He glared at the offending celestial body. “Every day.” He muttered. “Every day, you do this.” He was about to continue—

“Are you yelling at the sun again? Really?”

Gristle yelped, jolting hard enough to fall off of his bed entirely. He flailed wildly, scrambling to clamber back to his feet, frenetic energy in every inch of his suddenly-impossibly-awkward limbs.

“Branch!” Gristle leaned up against the shelf, examining the shredded remains of the cocoon through the door of his brother’s room. His little-big brother stood beside it, already having pulled on some pants. “You’re okay! You were in there for really long!”

Branch shrugged, walking over to his wardrobe. “Well, I’m here, so you can quit your whining.” There was a fondness in his voice that had Gristle rolling his eyes.

“Your tail’s still gone.” Gristle noticed. A lump settled in his gut, hard and heavy. “Branch…”

Branch turned around, twisting to look and confirm Gristle’s words. “Eh.” He shrugged, and turned his attention back to his wardrobe. “‘S not like it matters.” He decided, picking out a shirt to wear under his cape. “Bergens aren’t supposed to have tails anyway.”

Gristle winced. It was true, Bergens were tailless—but if they had tails, they certainly wouldn’t—

Gristle shook his head. He didn’t want to think about that. “Sooo,” He started, as Branch was securing the belled clasp of his cape. “How do you feel?”

Branch carefully placed his crown back upon his head, then walked in a small circle. “I don’t know, stronger?” He tried, holding his paws out in front of himself and examining them. “I think my balance is better, actually.” He noted. As if to illustrate the point, he did a twirl, his cape flaring slightly with the motion. “My face feels kinda… hm.” Branch pressed at his jaw with his paws, before shrugging it off. “Whatever. Are you gonna get ready, or am I doing all your work for you today?”

“Oh!” Gristle whipped back around, running for his own wardrobe. “Right!” As he shrugged on his own cape, clicking the clasp into place, he turned back to glance at the shelf holding his brother’s room.

Gristle sighed, all of his worries abated. Why would he ever worry? His family was just fine, and would be for a long, long time.

+=+=+=+=+

Gristle Junior was thirteen years old when he finally had to admit it.

He’d always hoped he’d get his father’s height, that he’d be able to stand as tall as the average Bergen in his adult years. But it had become clear that he would always be half average height, always doomed to needing steps to get onto the taller chairs.

It wasn’t the end of the world; Bergens could come in a range of shapes and sizes. That Gristle was so short wasn’t that big of an issue.

But Berg, did it feel like it! Gristle had spent his whole life looking up to his father—metaphorically and literally! And he was probably going to be stuck looking up forever!

“What are you moping about now?” And there was Gristle’s little-big brother, padding along one of the many paths set into the castle walls. The masons and carpenters had done good work with those paths—when Branch wasn’t running along them, they looked like simple wall decoration. It was real classy.

“I’m never gonna be tall.” Gristle grumbled, allowing himself a moment to lean against the wall in despair. Then he remembered who he was talking to, and hurriedly pulled away, flailing his hands as he tried to recover. “I mean—not that being short is a bad thing—”

“Okay, I’m gonna stop you right there.” Branch groused, holding out a paw. “Because from where I’m standing, you are not short.” He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms in front of him.

“I am, though.” Gristle lamented. “Most Bergens are twice my size. I mean, just look at Dad!”

Branch rolled his eyes. “At least you’re not Troll-sized.” He hopped down from the path along the wall to land atop Gristle’s head, just next to the crown. “Gotta count your blessings there.”

“I dunno,” Gristle started, swiping at his brother as the tiny Bergen pattered about on his head and ruffled his hair, “Maybe being Troll-sized would be nice. I could ride Barnabus around the halls with you.” He didn’t fully mean it—being the size of a Troll in a castle made for Bergens constantly forced Branch to find workarounds to even the simplest of things. But if anyone could manage it, it’d be Branch.

And Gristle had to admit: the idea of being able to ride on an alligator-dog, even one as old as Barnabus, was really cool. But Gristle was too big for that, and too big for his old trikes—all while being too small in so many other ways. It was like he was caught between, stuck at a size that would annoy him forever.

Branch dodged away from Gristle’s hand easily, chuffing when Gristle accidentally sent his own crown flying down the hall. Gristle growled, running after it, shaking his head in an attempt to throw Branch off. But his brother held on easily, always infuriatingly good at roughhousing despite his size.

It just wasn’t fair.

But, as Gristle replaced his crown on his head, and as Branch slid down to settle on Gristle’s shoulder, Gristle brushed away the annoyance.

It wasn’t the end of the world. Not by a long shot.

+=+=+=+=+

Gristle Junior was fifteen years old when the unthinkable happened.

His father, King Gristle Senior, who had always been an unshakeable force, strong and proud in a kingdom full of strong and proud Bergens—

Gristle Junior couldn’t believe it. It couldn’t be true. It just—it wasn’t supposed to happen like this!

But there was nothing that could be done. His father had fallen ill three months ago, and, despite every effort from every doctor in Bergentown, despite all of the King’s strength—

Gristle Junior was fifteen years old when his father passed from illness, gone overnight like a snuffed candle flame. Gristle Junior was fifteen years old when the title of King passed onto him, far too soon—he should have remained a Prince until he was a proper adult, until he was married with children who would become the Princes and Princesses that would help him run the kingdom—

Gristle Junior was fifteen years old when his world shattered for the second time. The funeral was held out in the plaza, barely a week after his father’s passing. The same plaza as Gristle’s first and final Trollstice, as his and Branch’s official crowning as Princes. It felt as though every major life-changing event in Gristle’s life happened here, the caged tree looming over it all like a shadow.

It still… it just couldn’t be possible. His father couldn’t just be… gone.

Gristle returned to the castle in a daze. Some distant part of him knew that he would have no choice but to take up his father’s crown, and soon, but—

The rest of him was sinking slowly, the grief thick in his throat and veins and head. The fog was all-consuming, pulling Gristle into depths of unhappiness he’d never thought possible.

Gristle had believed his first and last Trollstice, the day where he lost any chance to ever be happy, would be the worst day of his life. Oh, how wrong he was.

Gristle didn’t know how long he laid like that, staring up at the ceiling of his room without seeing anything at all. It was as though the world around him had well and truly shattered, and now the pieces had all fallen away out of his reach. Gristle floated on the nothing for what felt like an eternity and now time at all, the mire in his head growing thicker with every passing second.

“Hey.”

Gristle rolled over on his bed, pressing his face into the comforter to block out the rest of the world.

“Hey.”

What was the point? Gristle was never supposed to be King at fifteen. He’d probably mess it up, bungle the whole thing, and then all of Bergentown would be just as dead as his father.

“Hey!”

Gristle groaned, shoving his face into the comforter. He didn’t have the time or patience for this, his whole world was falling apart, why couldn’t he have a good cry about it in peace—

Something small landed inches away from Gristle’s head. He didn’t even need to look to know who it was—only his little-big brother could land so lightly.

“Hey, idiot.” Branch pushed at Gristle’s chin, lifting the Bergen’s head off the bed by a few inches. “Chin up.” He demanded, baring his teeth.

Gristle forced his head back down onto the comforter. “Leave me alone.” He growled.

“Mm, nope.” Branch declared, moving around to pull at Gristle’s ear. “You’ve been in here long enough,” he sniffed, “And you need a shower. C’mon.” He pulled, and Gristle had to put effort into staying in place.

“No.” Gristle grumbled. “Just let me rot.” Every inch of his body ached with the grief clinging to his bones, and the very thought of getting up and doing anything made him want to vomit. The whole world made him want to vomit.

“Can’t let you,” Branch said, his voice edging into genuine worry. “C’mon, at least eat something?” He tugged at Gristle’s ear again, darting away as Gristle irritably swiped at him.

“I said,” Gristle pushed himself up ever so slightly, just so he could look Branch in the eye, “leave me alone!”

Branch shook his head, paws clenching and unclenching. “You’ve been alone.” He said. “I can’t leave you. Brothers stick together.” There was something heavy in his words, some deeper meaning than a childhood promise.

“And how are you supposed to help?” Gristle asked, sitting up fully. “What could you possibly do to make this better?”

“Not let you smell like a rotting carcass, for one.” Branch snarked. His expression immediately softened. “You need to take better care of yourself.” He urged. “Letting yourself rot only makes it hurt worse. Please.”

“And what would you know?” Gristle accused. “You and Dad barely even liked each other!”

“You think I don’t know what grief feels like?” Branch spread his arms wide, tears beginning to bubble up in his eyes. “My Grandmother was eaten on Trollstice before you were even born! DON’T YOU DARE TELL ME I DON’T KNOW WHAT IT FEELS LIKE TO GRIEVE!”

Gristle flinched back. All of his vitriol drained as Branch panted. “You…” Branch never talked about that, about those four years he’d spent in the Troll Tree. Gristle’s throat tightened as a wave of emotion hit him anew, his eyes beginning to sting.

“It hurts.” He sobbed, for lack of anything better to say.

Branch’s anger melted away. “I know.” He said, sitting down. “It hurts, and you want so badly to just curl into a ball and wish the world away—”

“But you have to pick yourself back up.” Gristle finished. “Because people are counting on you.”

“Because nobody else will.” Branch added softly.

Gristle sobbed, breathy and uneven. “I miss him so much, Branch.”

Branch nodded. “I know.”

“I’m not ready to be King!” Gristle’s face was wet, now, hot and sticky with snot and tears.

Branch nodded again. “I know.”

Gristle sobbed again, his whole body shaking with the motion. He opened his mouth, but no words came.

“It’s not okay,” Branch offered into the silence, scooting forwards, “And that’s okay.”

“It hurts.” Gristle whispered.

Branch nodded. No more words came, and Gristle continued to cry. All of his misery poured out, raw and real and painful, and Branch remained right in front of him the entire time. When Gristle finally ran out of tears to cry, he flopped back down onto the bed, and two paws pressed against his cheek.

The silence stretched.

Slowly, Gristle breathed. In, and out. His chest was still strung taut and raw, his face was cold and sticky, and his throat stung from the effort of crying so much. He had never felt so low. He knew the grief was far from over.

As Gristle breathed, Branch clambered up onto his chest. He kneeled down, and held out a paw.

“Unhappy together.” Branch offered. “Shit sucks, but it sucks less when we work together.”

Gristle inhaled, his breath choppy and uneven. “Unhappy together.” He agreed, offering his finger for Branch to shake. He sobbed again, and Branch wrapped his arms around as much of Gristle’s hand as he could manage.

Gristle Junior was fifteen years old when his father died. And it sucked, and hurt, and Gristle wasn’t sure he’d ever really stop grieving.

But, at the very least, he wasn’t alone. It wasn’t much, but that simple fact helped.

+=+=+=+=+

Gristle Junior was twenty years old when Chef returned.

The day started as any other, really. Wake up, get cleaned and dressed, find his brother already awake and poring over details from the latest construction updates in the new quarter. Have breakfast, Branch darting about to steal off of his plate as he stole from Branch’s, like proper brothers would do. Go through the castle halls greeting everyone, Branch walking along the various small walkways lining the walls and arching up across hallways like tiny bridges. Prepare for the biweekly levee in the throne room.

It was as the final petitioner was leaving that it happened. A Bergen that Gristle only vaguely recognized emerged from behind a potted plant, swishing her cloak ominously as she all but marched towards the throne.

And then Gristle recognized her. The chef’s hat, the lavender tint, the wicked gleam in her eyes. He glanced to the throne beside his, and anxiety germinated in his chest at the sight of Branch still as a statue, eyes wide and locked onto Chef.

“Were you behind that plant the whole time?” Gristle asked, for lack of anything else to say. He realized immediately how stupid that sounded—but Branch made no comment on it, which was so unlike him that Gristle’s uncertainty ratcheted up another notch.

Chef grinned as she reached for the zipper on her fannypack. Slowly, she opened it, and a sweet harmony emerged from within.

Gristle gasped, the rest of the world forgotten. If Branch had any reaction, Gristle didn’t notice it, too entranced with the sight before him.

For in Chef’s fannypack was a handful of Trolls, bright and colorful and singing.

This… this could change everything.

No—this would change everything. For all of Bergentown! Finally, Gristle Junior could live up to his title, could be the King that brought happiness back to his people!

If he had bothered to look back at the thrones, he would have seen Chef glaring daggers into his back.

More importantly, he would have seen the look of utter uncertainty on Branch’s face.

#dreamworks trolls #gristle junior #branch trolls #king gristle jr #zaz writes #between au #death #themes of dehumanization (depersonization?)#WHY. WHY IS THIS SO L O N G #9K WORDS?????#N I N E T H O U S A N D W O R D S ??????????#anyway. here's the between au for anyone who was wondering #i wish this was smaller and easier to digest #but i jsut. kept adding scenes #EVEN AS I REMOVED THE TAIL SCENE AND SKIMPED OVER THE ADOPTION AND DIDN'T WRITE ANY SCENES BETWEEN GRISTLE SR'S DEATH AND CHEF SHOWING UP #anyway. branch is four years older than gristle (jr) in my mind #and also trolls are like bugs to me. hence the pupation #i have fish in a birdcage playing on loop rn and i think my brain is melting #it's a good song for this au tho ngl

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