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mrpenguinpants · 1 year

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Low Battery Warning - Touch Starved HCs

— If he goes too long without you by his side, he starts to get irritable and too frustrating for anyone to deal with. For the sake of everyone, please remember to recharge your battery before leaving for extended periods of time.

— Tartaglia, Kaveh, Ayato, Alhaitham, and Dottore

[Masterlist]

I JUST WANT TO WRITE WHIPPED MEN OKAY? What do you mean I have to write a part 2 for two different fics??? I'm honestly surprised I managed to finish this. Also, ALHAITHAM NATION REJOICE, YOUR BOY IS HERE AND I CAN FINALLY MAKE A BANNER. I wasn't going to write him (I'm a kaveh stan) but now that he's here...

Tartaglia

While Tartaglia is the most favored to work with compared to the other Harbingers, that's only by a very slim margin. The closest you'll get to death is when the man gets bored and randomly picks someone to fight, but they usually make it out alive. Maybe a couple weeks in the medical bay and a few broken bones but they aren't dead for the most part. He's also the youngest and therefore the most easy-going even if he's a bit childish. He's a soldier first so he knows the pain of listening to someone verbally beat you down and not having the power to do anything back. But he's still a person at the end of the day and after so many people messing up and delaying his work, he's starting to get irritated. First, it was someone spilling tea onto important documents that he just finished signing, then the Fatui agents stationed near Jueyun Karst being defeated by some no-named treasure hoarders, and then finally being held hostage in his own office because the Liyue Qixing wouldn't leave him alone. God, he slumps over his desk, he just wants to go home and see you!

By the time he finally stumbles through the door, you're already passed out on the couch. He can't blame you, it's very late into the night and he would probably be more upset if you forced yourself to stay awake just to welcome him home. But he can still pout that he was taken away from you for so long, he didn't even get to see you all day. That's borderline torture. But he supposes he can forgive you since you look so cute bundled up in his red shirt. If he happens to take a picture or two that's for his knowledge and eyes only. So he easily scoops you up into his arms, taking a couple seconds to just stand there as he basks in the comfortable weight before he takes you to bed. Just for tonight. This will be the last time work takes him away from home for so long.

It lasts for two weeks. Usually, Childe could hold himself together, he's been away for far longer, but the fact that you're right there and he can't hold you is driving him insane. By the 14th day, Childe is ready to snap his pen in half and hurl it at the next person that comes through that cursed door. He doesn't though because it's usually Ekaterina, the only one that has the balls to talk to him right now, and she deserves far more than she's paid to deal with. But he's touch-deprived and tired. Even Zhongli with his infinite amount of patience advises him to sort himself out before inviting him out to lunch next time. He tried to deal with it on his own, this isn't the first time he's felt claustrophobic, but after the fifth Hilichurl camp he doesn't feel any better which only makes his mood sour further. He might even beat Scaramouche in how short-tempered he is right now. There's heavy air wherever he goes and whatever carefree persona he usually has on is thrown out the window.

It's Zhongli who clues you into how bad Childe's demeanor has gotten, the rascal looks horrible both physically and mentally. Despite the consultant and Childe being on friendly terms, you don't really know the man that well. But he doesn't seem like the type of person to lie so you thank him for the information and make your way to the Northland Bank. To be honest, you've been feeling the effects of not seeing Childe as often as you usually do. You know his work can get so hectic that it keeps him cooped up in his office but it's been a while since you've even seen that fluff of ginger hair. He usually doesn't want you near his work considering how it might put you in danger, but if he isn't taking care of himself then what kind of partner would you be if you didn't help?

Even outside the building, you can feel the effects of what Zhongli talked about. All the agents look like they're on their last legs, there's a gloomy atmosphere surrounding the building even though the sun shines brightly across Liyue harbor, and you can vaguely hear an annoyed Harbinger scolding someone. As soon as you set foot into the building Ekaterina nearly tackles you off your feet. Desperately thanking you for coming and looking at you as if you're the Tsaritsa herself.

As soon as Ekaterina says your name, Childe whips his head around at such a speed that you're afraid his head might fling off as his eyes lock onto yours. You know Childe wouldn't hurt you, never you, but he's looking at you like he's about to devour you and you're suddenly very glad you've never been on the receiving end of his anger. He shoves the papers in his hands into the agent's chest he was probably reprimanding and marches over to where you are.

"C-Childe?" "S-Sir?"

Ekaterina mirrors the wary call of his name until he's finally in front of you and without a word, throws his arms around you. You stumble a bit under his weight but you quickly circle your arms around his back and hold on tight so you don't trip over your own feet. You can only imagine what it looks like for Ekaterina to see her stiff boss suddenly deflate in your arms. A pleased groan escapes from him as he basically lifts you off your feet just so he can hug you closer to him. You almost feel like a child's teddy bear with your legs dangling in the air trapped in a crushing hug. You know that your relationship with Childe isn't a secret but you both don't show any displays of affection, you don't even really interact in public in general, so this is pretty open for the two of you. Well, for you at least. You don't even think Childe is registering anything around him except that you're here.

"Are you okay милый?" you whisper into his ear, nuzzling into the side of his head that's nestled into your shoulder. Your snezhnaya is a little rough around the edges but from how he seems to purr you think he enjoys it nonetheless. "Although I'm happy to see you too, don't you think we should move so we aren't blocking the main entrance?"

He sleepily blinks awake and slowly starts to acknowledge that you're both very much standing at the bank's entrance with everyone shamelessly staring. He frankly looks like he doesn't care, people have working legs, they can walk around you both. But he also doesn't want anyone to find another reason to take him away when he's very comfortable.

"If you need me, don't," is the clipped order that rings out through the bank. You know he's heavily censoring what he actually wants to say but from how everyone cowers away, they can probably tell what would happen if they disobey him. They all give him a nod and a salute before he's picking you up, cradles you into your arms, and swiftly walks upstairs. With a kick of his boot, the door slams shut and he sinks into his chair, you seated pretty on his lap.

"Please never leave me, I think I might die," he groans, re-wrapping his arms tight around your waist. You can only sigh fondly as you gently run your fingers through his hair, rubbing small circles into his scalp and he melts into goo. As if you would want to leave.

Kaveh

You know Kaveh is a bit...eccentric to say the least. He always says what's on his mind and most of the time his thoughts are things he should keep to himself. Even you're not totally immune to his blunt honesty despite the fact he tries to watch how he phrases things when directed to you. He doesn't want to accidentally hurt your feelings, regardless if you know he means no harm. It's rather cute that for someone who doesn't care about what others think of him, he's a bit insecure around you. He likes you, really likes you, and he often finds himself plotting out what he's going to say hours before your lunch date with him. But as soon as you greet him with that charming smile and a brief hug, he turns into putty and whatever flowery language he conjured in his mind is swept away. The confident architect that graduated with honors is reduced to a red-faced mess of stumbling words. It doesn't help that you find it adorable enough to press a chaste kiss to his red cheek and he swears that he's going to pass out from a heat stroke.

He's both extremely glad and terribly conflicted that your love language seems to be touch. He loves it when you brush your fingers through his hair but it always lulls him into sleep so he doesn't get any work done. He loves it when you hug him tightly but then he never wants to leave so he doesn't get any work done. He loves it when you cup his cheeks and pull him into a kiss but then he goes in for seconds, then thirds, and so on that he doesn't get any work done. If he went into alchemy rather than architecture he would dedicate his life work to studying why you have the touch of an Archon that compels him so. But he didn't and now that he's drowning in debt, he really needs to concentrate and finish his work before the deadline.

So now he has the painful task of trying to find an extremely polite way of asking you to leave him alone without you taking offense and breaking up with him. He would be devastated if he couldn't see your loving gaze on him again. But the situation is dire because as soon as he sees you, all he wants to do is curl up in bed with you in his arms. Preferably forever but he'll cross that bridge when he gets there. But every time he tries to bring it up it only takes one look from you for him to stutter and wave off his words. He tries to pep talk himself and every single time he claims that this will be the day that he, very politely, pushes you off, it ends with him melting into goo and waking up the next day with all his untouched work judging him from the table.

It gets to the point that he begins to air his grievances to Alhaitham of all people. To be fair, he doesn't expect the scribe to listen to a word he says and if he did, it would only be because Kaveh needed to pay his share of the rent. But he's pleasantly surprised when you pop up with a guilty smile and that Alhaitham explained his circumstances to you. He tries to clear up the situation, he has no idea what Alhaitham said specifically but it must have been put in the worst way possible, but you take his hands and he shuts up immediately. You give him a light giggle that melts his heart and you tell him to call for you once he's completed his work.

It was the worst decision he's ever made. Second to moving in with Alhaitham. Maybe his judgment of you being an angel was a lie and you were secretly the devil from how often his thoughts were plagued by you. He could draw a circle and think of your eyes. He knows that he's smitten in your presence but he didn't expect that to double when he's suddenly alone. His only motivation is that as soon as he's finished, he'll be able to see you again. But his mind and his work bleed together and he ends up drawing your face instead of buildings and pipes.

He ends up locking himself in his studio and slowly deforming into slime with how awful he's taking care of himself. Alhaitham has to pry him from the table only for Kaveh to flop in his arms that the scribe gives up and hauls the corpse over his shoulder and makes his way to your home. Kaveh still needs to pay his share of the rent so he's not allowed to die before then.

When you opened the door you weren't expecting Alhaitham at your doorstep with Kaveh over his shoulder. He doesn't seem to want to be in this situation either because it looks like he's two seconds away from throwing your boyfriend across the room. But he manages to reign everything in front of you and quickly explains Kaveh's situation, dumping said man into your arms, and telling you to fix it. You shoot him an apologetic smile that he waves off, it's not like it's your fault, before turning around and making his way back to his own home.

"Kaveh?" you whisper gently against his ear to not startle him. It only takes him a second to register your voice before he's perking up and beaming at you. He easily shifts positions so you're in his arms instead. Twirling you around and using the momentum to tuck an arm under your knees and smoothly picking you up, somehow supporting your entire weight in one arm while the other closes the door. Sometimes you forget that Kaveh is really strong despite his lean stature. He is a claymore user after all.

"Darling! What are you doing here?" Kaveh questions while he makes himself at home. If only your living space was big enough for him to store all his work otherwise he would have moved in with you by now.

"Alhaitham mentioned that your recent commission was taking up all your time and you weren't taking care of yourself. Are you alright?" you ask, wrapping your arms around his neck to steady yourself while Kaveh takes his shoes and coat off. In these types of moments, no matter what you do or say he'll refuse to let you out of his arms. If he has to live with one arm then he'll gladly do so just so long as his other hand is wrapped around you.

"Never better," he replies with a smile. He's obviously lying given the dark circles under his pretty red eyes but the soft look he sends you is enough to tell you that right now, he's never been more comfortable. It makes you a bit flustered to have such an intense gaze on you but Kaveh is always forward with his affections and this isn't any different. With you in his arms, there's nowhere for you to run to when he tilts your chin down and brushes his lips against yours.

"Be still for me..." he whispers, the vibrations of his voice tingling against your skin as both of your eyes slowly close. Only for the moment to shatter by loud knocks on your door. You both jerk apart and turn to the disturbance with varying expressions. You're a flustered mess while Kaveh scowls as if the door offended his entire life's work. He finally sets you down on your feet and gives you a quick peck on the cheek. Before marching to the door, flinging it open, and telling the man on the other side to shoo before slamming the door in his face. Unless the world is ending, don't knock.

Ayato

To say Ayato works hard is an understatement. There are several nights when he's glued to his desk rather than resting in bed. Such are the woes of him being forever dedicated to his duties as the Yashiro Commissioner. On days when there are big events and everything needs to be perfect, he's nearly inconsolable that Thoma weighs how much he can get away with if he knocks Ayato out with a frying pan. His pondering doesn't go far because even though Ayato looks like a corpse from the lack of sleep, he'd probably knock Thoma off his feet before the housekeeper could even raise his arms. Ayaka has better luck but she's only able to drag him away for a few minutes before he points in a random direction to divert her attention before disappearing as soon as she turns back. It's just something everyone is aware of and they try their best to support Lord Kamisato. But if it starts to look really bad, like Ayato might drop dead at any second, then you're called in. The last defense and their ace up the sleeve. Not to brag or anything but you have a spotless record and you intend to keep it that way.

It only takes one word from you to have the dignified and cunning Ayato turn into a scared rabbit. His name. None of the wary calls of Lord Kamisato, a dismissal of his titles, and certainly not your affectionate terms of endearment. It always brings the temperature of the room to zero and Ayaka has to double-check that her cyro vision didn't accidentally activate. Unlike Thoma and Ayaka, you're not soft on him and you set your foot down when it comes to his extremes. One of the many reasons he fell in love with you but it's coming back to bite him now. He hates seeing you unhappy, doing anything possible to wipe that frown off your face, but when it's him that's making you so displeased he can't help but look like a scolded puppy.

It doesn't take much for you to know that Ayato has overworked himself to the breaking point again. You understand his duties mean that he's going to be riddled with work but you're his partner first and foremost. You're there to care about Ayato, not the Yashiro Commissioner. And Ayato looks like he's falling apart at the seams. Heavy eye bags, pale complexion, and his body swaying back and forth before he catches himself from falling over. It pains your heart to see him like this and yet still push himself to keep going. So you take one, two, and three steps towards him to delicately take his hand in yours, rubbing soothing circles into his palm before intertwining your fingers together.

Unlike Thoma and Ayaka, he doesn't disappear as soon as you take your eyes off him. Just stands there and stares dopily at you while you issue orders to take over his work. God, you look so attractive when you're in control. It's been a while since he's seen anything but paper and ink but did you always look this beautiful? He's so glad he's going to marry you. Maybe he can force the elders to move the ceremony date up. Everyone in the room politely ignores the fact that Ayato is saying these thoughts out loud and how red your face has gotten.

He doesn't object when you pull him out of the room with you, blindly following you wherever you happen to lead him by the hand. As long as your hand is in his, he'll follow you to the ends of the earth if you'll allow it. It's a bit comical how the dignified Yashiro Commissioner recedes into himself and crumbles away into a love-sick man just by a simple touch. At much as it makes you feel a bit shy, it's nice to know that Ayato won't try and weasel his way out of your grasp and return to his work.

If anything he clings to you like an onikabuto on a tree. You have to waddle your way to the baths with an oversized blue-haired man refusing to let go and draping himself over your back. You know he's making this as hard as possible on purpose, just do you can dote and pamper him a bit longer before he succumbs to slumber and has to return to work. It dampens his mood thinking of the future but it's quickly ushered away by the warm water poured over his head. It's fitting that his vision is hydro because he fits himself into the space you provide as you begin to scrub his hair clean.

There's something meditative about having his hair washed by your hands that no one else can replicate. It's a luxury that he only receives when he works hard enough that his arms hang uselessly at his sides and his body slumps into itself. Soft and malleable, completely willing to bend and mold in whatever shape you wish. But your hands scrub through his hair gently, rubbing all the stress out of his body and never complaining. Right now there's nothing else that matters more than being here with you and you with him.

"I'm going to rinse your hair out. Close your eyes now," you softly say and he follows your instructions. The rush of warm water is soothing to his ears although it sparks something in his memory that momentarily takes him out of this romantic moment. He reaches blindly behind him to take your hand, rubbing circles into your palm to halt your actions.

"It's just occurred to me but aren't you supposed to be on a trip to Watatsumi island?" he opens his eyes to peer up at you, his long eyelashes tipped with water droplets reminding you of just how pretty Ayato is. It's almost a good enough distraction for you to forget why exactly you're here rather than speaking with Kokomi right now. Almost.

"I was but someone had to go and work himself to death again. You need to take better care of yourself Ayato. I don't want to see Thoma running across all of Inazuma just to drag me back because you can't seem to sit still for a few seconds," your frown deepens with each sentence. Your free hand that's not in his grasp is knocking against his forehead, albeit not hard enough to cause any actual pain. He only chuckles before pulling you into the water with him until you're sitting on the edge of the bathtub. His head lay comfortably against your thighs.

"Apologies." He's not sorry at all. "When you're not beside me I have to throw myself into my work or else I may go insane."

"Oh so now all of this is my fault," you huff exasperated but he can hear the undertones of how happy that sentence makes you. "Come on, you'll catch a cold if we stay here any longer."

"Mmm, indulge me," he mumbles into your skin, his eyes closing once again with a content smile on his face. He doesn't need to see to know that you have an equally fond expression.

"Oh, so now my lord wishes to relax?"

"Only because you're here."

Alhaitham

You know that your relationship with Alhaitham is unusual to onlookers. You're both polar opposites and yet somehow stumbled into a rather healthy and committed relationship. To others, Alhaitham is a talented and intelligent man. The perfect bachelor if it wasn't for his "extraordinary sense of individualism" that he doesn't pay attention to people around him. He's notorious for being hard to get along with that not even his handsome face is enough for people to sit around for too long. Meanwhile, there's you. A wandering traveler who takes work whenever anyone needs an extra pair of hands. You're a bit well-known for accepting any job that pays well regardless of how dangerous or weird it might be. But unlike Alhaitham, you're more than happy to make conversation and you're often seen conversing with scholars from every one of the Six Darshans.

To everyone's knowledge, it's you that's the clingy one. You always have a hand around his arm or throw yourself at him shamelessly. Everyone assumes that Alhaitham tolerates it because he never pushes you off but he doesn't reciprocate affection to the degree that you do. If only those nosy scholars could see him now. Your newest job has you traveling to the Chasm to help collect and study the newly opened area. While the Chasm is close to Sumeru, a series of mysterious accidents led the entire mine to be closed. With the Liyue Qizing gradually reopening the area there's a lot of ground to cover. Alhaitham doesn't care much for the details except that this means you'll be away from him for a few years rather than a few weeks. As soon as you told him the expected date you'll return his face instantly soured. It was so cute that you couldn't help but press kisses to the corners of his mouth until they lifted. But one thing led to another and you're now trapped underneath his strong figure for the past couple of hours with no signs of him letting go. Every day you're gone equates to one minute he gets to keep you here.

No matter how much Alhaitham wishes to make you stay, even going so far as to bribe you, you eventually gather your things, press one last kiss to his lips, and leave him in his too-quiet house. He doesn't want to admit it but as soon as he closes the door he already feels lonely. But he'll learn to cope and continue with his life. He's been through more challenging obstacles and made it through. It's only two years, 3 months, 14 minutes, and 58 seconds. Alhaitham sighs and leans against the door. He's not going to make it.

Everyone else is content to whisper behind their hands about how the scribe seems to be more hostile. While Alhaitham doesn't have the most friendly personality, he's still somewhat polite until someone gives him a reason to exit the conversation. But now Alhaitham can barely get two sentences in before insulting someone. He doesn't even mean to do it on purpose, it just slips out. A girl who happens to share your eye color is met with a backhanded compliment that she should eat more fish. A man whose skin color is just a shade lighter than yours is met with an irritated scowl before he could even say anything. It's only now that people start to miss your presence because anything is better than a walking warning sign.

It only takes a few weeks for him to crack. He's not usually this starved of attention but the knowledge that he won't see you for another two years has him itching at his wrists. While on the outside there doesn't seem to be any changes, he's perfectly calm and collected, but his facade breaks when he starts making rash decisions. When he heard that his senior Kaveh needed a place to stay due to his financial situation, he offered to live with him much to everyone and his own surprise. Even Kaveh suspiciously asks why Alhaitham is being so generous. He doesn't dignify it with a proper answer, only that he better get his situation fixed within the next two years or the scribe is kicking him out.

As the second year rolls past, it's Kaveh who brings up Alhaitham's sudden mood change. He seems...excited. Kaveh chalks it up to Alhaitham being happy that Kaveh is finally moving out but that'd be kind of low even for someone like Alhaitham. As someone who cares about the arts and romance, there's a certain care in how Alhaitham cleans the house. Every systematic movement is laced with a longing gaze. His wrists are rubbed raw that Kaveh has to physically step in or he might rub so hard he reaches the bone. But above all the dangerous aura around Alhaitham is replaced with something Kaveh can only describe as restless patience.

"Honey, I'm home!" your happy voice is accompanied by the loud slam of the door crashing against the wall. Kaveh is startled by a random stranger entering their house but mostly at the term of endearment. Alhaitham only lowers his book at your voice before going back to reading. A bit rude in Kaveh's opinion but he can see the small smile that Alhaitham tries to hide behind the pages of his book. It's not like you aren't a bit devious yourself. So you retaliate by plucking the book out of his hands, taking a quick glance at his page number before placing it on the desk.

"Welcome back. I assume your job went well?" Alhaitham sighs as you kick his legs apart, plop yourself down into his lap, and rest your head against his chest. If you weren't so enthralled by the masterpiece that was Alhaitham's physique, you would have laughed at how the blond-haired man seemed to stare owlishly at the scene. His eyes almost fall out of their heads when Alhaitham doesn't push you off, doesn't throw you over his shoulder, or even make the slightest hint of being irritated or embarrassed. He just places his hands around your waist, rests his chin on your head, and sends an icy glare to which the blond-haired man scoffs before excusing himself. It's not anything different from what he usually does to onlookers although this is you and you can tell just how weary he is. How deeply he relaxes in your hold as the tension melts from his shoulders. How his eyes search over your body for any injuries that you might have gotten. It does look like you got a bit roughed up during your stay at the Chasm. Your hair is cut shorter than he remembers, you've put on some muscle, and there are a few nicks and cuts running along parts of your skin that are visible. But none of that matters because you're here. You're finally here.

"Aww, Haitham did you miss me?" you tease only to quickly eat your words when he manuever's you sideways so he can pin your back against the couch. You're hit with a sense of deja vu back to two years ago when you were about to leave for this trip.

"The next time you take a commission that lasts longer than two weeks, I'm coming with you or you're not going at all," he grumbles as he tucks himself into the crook of your neck with no signs of leaving. You laugh now but he's dead serious.

Dottore

You aren't sure when it started but at some point, you've been labeled as "Dottore's Favourite". He always seems to be the slightest bit nicer if you happen to be there, his voice a smidge less aggressive, and a lot more touchy. He's a Doctor first so he doesn't want to be contaminated by whatever bacteria people have gathered. But with you, he always seems to have a hand on you. Either harshly pinching your cheeks like a child with a crazed grin whenever you mumble something he deems stupid or pulling your arm of out its socket as he yanks you through the hallways of his lab. You act almost as his shadow, permanently glued to his feet and forced to follow wherever he goes.

You wouldn't consider yourself exceptional at your job but you did know how to listen. Perhaps it was your blatant disregard for your lack of safety since your head was always in the clouds that let you do your job with a steady hand. You don't blame your college's, it's hard to work under so much stress. If you had to do quantum physics and whatever the hell smart people do with someone who could, and would, kill you on the spot if you couldn't tell him what 3567 x 438 was on the spot, you think you could have exploded and crumbled on the spot. But you were just the ditzy receptionist who twirled a pencil on her nose more than on a paper. The only thing you were required to do was make sure Dottore was never bothered and let him know if anyone important needed his attention.

You've seen the Regrator the most compared to the rest of the Harbingers. You don't know what a banker needs from a doctor but you're not about to ask. It's not your business and you aren't paid enough to care about what your boss does. Besides, for such a handsome face his presence creeps you out which is saying something considering there's a maniacal doctor that treats human lives like numbers on a stats page. But since you are his "receptionist" you have to make conversation with him. Most of your interaction extends to him asking if the Doctor is in and you politely saying that he's out. You both pointedly ignore the loud crashes and angry yelling from one of his segments behind the closed steel door.

Once again, you don't consider yourself exceptional at your job. You're just a lousy receptionist at a place that doesn't require it and who spends all their time spinning in the office chair than doing actual work. You're just as replaceable as any grunt in this hell hole. So when Tartaglia waltzes through the doors, blinking at you with his dead fish eyes, before nodding to himself and hauling you out of your chair you can only hope that Dottore manages to remember that he has a meeting with Pantalone at noon.

You're hardly gone for an hour. Tartaglia was just bored, bored enough to come to Dottore of all people, that he happened to spot you who looked equally as bored. He just roughed you up a little before he deemed you completely useless and a horrible fighter before sending you back on your way. Seriously, if he wanted a fight he should have just picked one of the skirmishers instead of a damn receptionist. Although you may have to reconsider your position because as soon as you walk back into the lab, a girl is throwing herself at you and demanding where you've been.

You don't get the chance to answer before she's hurriedly running down twisting hallways, down the stairs, and punching in codes so complicated it looked like she was trying to make music out of them. Whatever questions you have are ignored in favor of getting you somewhere as fast as possible. It begins to make sense when you're finally shoved into a room, the girl who dragged you all this way throwing herself onto her knees and begging for forgiveness for letting you wander off.

The lab is an absolute disaster. This isn't the organized chaos you're acquainted with but the aftermath of a manic episode you're familiar with. Glass shards dripping with fluorescent liquid, research notes torn apart that flutter around the room as faux snow, and one mad doctor in the middle.

"Where have you been?"

For someone who destroyed years worth of progress, he sounds oddly calm and collected. His deep voice is firm while he fiddles with a test tube of blue liquid, watching it slosh around before placing it onto a broken table. He barely pays any mind to the girl currently on her hands and knees, forehead pressed to the ground while she glares at you to say something.

"Out," is your reply. A casual shrug of your shoulders even though the Dottore's back is to you. He's not wearing his usual white coat. That's too bad, you think it looks kinda cool. Really goes with his bird aesthetic.

"Out...out you say. Out. Out. Out," he mumbles softly, each time he say's the word "out", he taps the test tube harder onto the table. The lull in conversation only makes the pressure of the room drop lower before the tension snaps and he hurls the test tube at the girl still on her knees. It's only thanks to your reflexes that you manage to grab the collar of her uniform and throw her back just as the test tube collides with the floor, the liquid melting away the concrete where her head was. You can only give her a nudge and a look towards the door for her to scramble to her feet and flee as far away as she can. The slam of the door behind her acting as the nail in the coffin as Dottore's body seems to slump in on itself.

"Where have you been?" he asks again, running a hand through his messy hair. He sounds and looks far more tired, his fingers twitching to reach out and hold you but his pride stopping him. So you push yourself and step forward into his space, reaching your hands out to cup his face and rubbing soothing circles into his porcelain skin. He doesn't lean into your touch but he doesn't push you away either.

"Getting tossed around by Tartaglia. He came by saying he was bored and I just so happened to be there," you say absentmindedly, twirling the long lock of blue hair that hangs off the sides of his mask. He responds by snatching your wrist, squeezing hard enough until your bones creak. "Were you worried? Did you think I ran away?"

He doesn't dignify your question with a response. Simply shrugging your hands off his face before he reaches up to pinch your cheeks, a familiar cackle vibrating from his chest.

"As if you would have anywhere to go."

———

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Rumors About Fairy Rings

Simeon

Upon hearing that Barbatos was currently staying at Serenity Manor, Luke practically begged for us to go see him. Of course, he'll deny it if anyone asks him, but that doesn't change the fact that he wanted to spend some time with the demon butler.

He was less keen when he heard why Barbatos was visiting, however.

"I don't like seeing a Devildom corporation making inroads into the human world like this," he told me as we were heading over to the Manor. "I'm afraid I'll wake up one day to find that the Devildom has taken over."

It's difficult to explain things to Luke sometimes. I can't get him to understand that both the Celestial Realm and the Devildom are seeking an amicable relationship with the human world. After all this time, he still thinks that demons are evil and only wish to tarnish souls. I was hoping that maybe by accompanying me, his opinion would have softened a bit.

Perhaps that was all in vain.

"I took the liberty of brewing some fairy ring tea," Barbatos explains as he pours the drink into small cups. Luke's eyes widen, as do Mammon's. I'm not sure why he's here, to be honest. I mean, I know he lives here, but surely he'd rather be doing something else instead of having tea with us.

"What's so special about a fairy ring?" MC asks, nonchalantly grabbing a cup and sitting down next to me. "It's just a bunch of mushrooms that grow in a circle." Barbatos smiles fondly at MC.

"I can understand your lack of enthusiasm," he tells them. "Mushroom rings can be explained away scientifically. However, there's a second type of fairy ring that's composed of small, sparkling, golden-hued flowers. The tea is meant to be reminiscent of those flowers." I take the opportunity to take a sip. It tastes pleasant enough. Smells nice, too.

"Legend has it that the rings are formed when fairies dance together in a circle," Barbatos adds.

"I'd like to meet a fairy!" Luke exclaims.

"I'm afraid the likelihood of that happening is quite slim. It's said that they've gone extinct in the human world."

"Seriously?!" Mammon shouts. "They're extinct? That's ridiculous! You used to be able to find 'em everywhere!"

"And that was how many centuries ago?" MC retorts, making me stifle a laugh. I'm glad I wasn't drinking my tea in that moment, or I would have choked.

When Mammon speaks again, he's a lot more nervous. I've noticed MC has that effect on him.

"Well, wherever there's fairies, there's treasure! They go hand in hand! And all of it is stuff that goes for a lotta money in the Devildom!"

"You certainly are a fountain of knowledge when it comes to anything related to money." I certainly did not expect that level of sarcasm from Luke. Apparently, neither did MC, who looks at me in surprise. The best I can do is shrug. It's not like I know exactly what triggered that side of Luke.

"Of course, their extinction is merely a rumor," Barbatos continues. "There may very well be fairies that are living in secret here in the human world, and they may still be producing those rings." He pauses. "I've heard that the flowers can be used to create a special rare type of sweet treat."

Now he's gotten both Mammon and Luke hooked on the idea of finding a fairy ring. I can see it in their eyes. They're about ready to bounce off the walls with excitement.

Lucifer chooses that moment to walk over to us and grab a cup of tea. He goes to take a sip, but then stops when he notices the look on his brother's face.

"No," he simply states before bringing the cup to his lips.

"I haven't even asked you anything!" Mammon protests.

"You don't need to. I can tell you're up to no good."

"But I wanna try the magical treats!" Luke whines.

"Magical treats?" Lucifer repeats.

"And I want some sweet, sweet money!" Mammon yells.

I feel myself beginning to zone out. I just want to enjoy my tea in peace. Perhaps I'll take it outside on the patio. It'd be quieter there than in here.

"Simeon." MC's hushed voice brings me back to reality. "Is it just me, or is there electricity bouncing between the two of them?"

It takes me a moment to see what MC's talking about, but when I do, my stomach sinks. Yellow sparks are flying off Luke and Mammon as they argue with Lucifer about going out and searching for fairy rings.

I knew this was bound to happen eventually, but I wish it held off for a few more years. Luke's too young to understand what he's currently experiencing; plus, he'd freak out on me if I told him.

And he's already on the edge.

I stand up from my seat and whistle loudly, making everyone quiet down and focus on me. Looking directly at Lucifer, I ask him,

"Would you allow them to hunt for fairy rings if MC and I accompanied them?"

Can you hear me?

Once upon a time, the two of us could communicate telepathically. All seraphim have this ability. Hopefully, the connection is still there, because I don't want anyone overhearing our conversation.

Lucifer subtly nods his head, allowing me to continue.

Luke's feeding off Mammon's greed. If you keep pushing the issue, he will become destructive, and I'm in enough trouble as it is.

His face softens. Our friendship may be a distant memory at this point, but it's comforting to know that he still cares about me.

"As long as you can keep them reigned in, then I don't see the harm."

Mammon and Luke cheer and give each other a high-five as Barbatos tells them to bring him back a few flowers so that he can brew them a pot of real fairy ring tea. MC, on the other hand, is looking rather confused as they keep glancing between Lucifer and me. I'm sure they'll be asking me questions later, and I'd be happy to answer any of them.

But we need to be alone first.

#obey me shall we date #obey me simeon #obey me mc #obey me barbatos #obey me mammon #obey me luke #obey me lucifer #and so the story arc begins

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handspunyarns · 1 year

Text

You Were Marked: Day One point Five.

pairing: din djarin x fem!O/C word count: 3.4k summary: Din Djarin eats bread. warnings: Mando'a and English cursing, gluten

You Were Marked: Masterlist

<- You Were Marked: Previous Chapter

As Din stepped into Marathel’s home, he took the opportunity to examine the structure while her back was turned. It wasn’t so much a house as it was a raised platform with an open framework of posts and long slim beams supporting a flat roof. The roof was heavily thatched with layers of braided leaves and flat grasses. One corner was supported by a large tree, which had branches that reached under the roof. Under this tree was a tall wooden upright frame that was heavily laced with string and fiber – some kind of loom, he supposed. There was a long table with benches. Opposite the loom was a sleeping pad that was partially surrounded by panels of hanging fabric. Another corner of the structure was built out over a stream that partially flowed underneath the platform, and there was a simple pulley system for Marathel to collect water. The back of the structure was dominated by a large clay box that was constructed around a fire, which contained a large metal grate that held cooking pots. On either side of the fireplace were long counters with shelves, tightly packed with a variety of baskets. Din’s eyes grazed along the top of the counter, littered with open jars and small clay pots, and there, next to the dry sink, lay a large round loaf of crusty bread.

Bread. Osik, bread. Bread was hard to come by when criss-crossing the galaxy, eating travel rations on the run. Bread that he had managed to get a hold of was hard and dry or too mealy to enjoy. Never, ever had he had bread right out of an oven, and proper bread was so rare to him that he could count on one hand how many times he had eaten any. Food at the covert was institutional and practical. Food was for strength, for energy. Since becoming an adult, Din had discovered that that was not always precisely so. His helmet only allowed the slightest of aromas to get through, but the hints of herbs that he could get were tantalizing.

Marathel had dished up a bowl of the stew that stood on the hob, and she mashed the contents into a puree with a spoon. She then picked up the loaf of bread, tore off a hunk, exposing the fluffy center that made Din’s mouth water. She spread a soft cheese on the bread, deftly tore it into child-sized chunks, and placed the food on the table. “Sit,” she said. Din sat. Grogu immediately reached for the bowl, but Din moved it into a better position, set Grogu on his thigh, and began spoon-feeding the stew into the ungrateful maw. Marathel had her back turned again, putting herbs into mugs and filling the mugs with hot water from the reservoir, and Din briefly wondered if he’d have enough time to slip a bit of bread under his helmet before she turned around again. Before he could, though, Marathel sat opposite him, sliding a steaming mug over to him. “Does he approve?”

“He does.”

“Good.” She sipped her tea. “He is a charming creature.”

“He does have that effect on people.” Din was about to let Grogu sip from the mug of tea when Marathel said, “Oh no, the tea is for you. The tea is … a …. digestive? Good for stomachs. Too strong for little ones, unless they are ill.”

Din slid the mug out of reach. “Grogu needs no help in that department.”

Marathel chuckled. “I understand. I helped with the little ones at the Hold.”

“The Hold?”

She gestured vaguely. “Up there, where the others are.”

“Why is it that you’re down here, all alone?”

Marathel hid her face for a moment in her mug. “The Dahlrhddwhyrs – the Dahls – of course.”

“Why are they so important?”

She shrugged and kept her eyes on the tabletop. “I don’t know. Status, maybe? The Ancient Ones had use for them, but I don't know what that was. There are things known in the Oldtalk, but girls don’t learn those things. The men and the boys who have changed learn that in the Round Building. The girls only learn what Oldtalk and Newtalk is needed from the Diwhyns.”

“Diwhyns?”

“The … older women. The mothers. I’m sorry, you speak Newtalk …I will try to keep up.” Marathel took another long sip of her tea. “But you were asking about the Dahls. The Elders want them, but you can’t just take a Dahl. You have to care for them while still in the egg. When they hatch, you have to be there … that way …” She scowled, looking for the right words. “They become yours, you become theirs?”

“They bond?”

“Yes! Bond. That is the word. I take them the eggs each season, but they will not bond with The Elders.” Marathel slipped her hands into her sleeves and swallowed while she stared at the tabletop. She finally lifted her eyes to look at Din’s helmet. It was then that she noticed that he was not looking at her but seemed to be focused on something just behind her. She glanced over her shoulder and her eyes fell on the bread. “You are hungry, then?”

“No. I will eat later.”

“If you want bread, you may have bread. Or stew. I have plenty.” She got up and pulled another bowl from the shelf.

“I cannot.”

“You cannot?”

“I may not eat before others.”

Marathel’s brow furrowed. “I don’t understand.”

“I may not remove my helmet before any other living thing.”

She contemplated this for a moment. “You require … privacy, then?” Din did not answer. “This is easily fixed.” She pulled out another one of her ubiquitous baskets and removed a stack of folded dark-colored fabric.

Din stood. “I do not wish you any trouble.”

“It is no trouble. You are hungry but may not eat before me. I understand. Let me fix something. In the meantime, I expect Grogu will need the necessary?”

“The necessary?”

“Babies fill, babies must empty, yes?” Marathel pointed towards the corner just past her sleeping pad. “Hop down there and go about ten meters around that rock outcrop. Look to your left, you will find it. Go on, then.”

Grogu was indeed squirming, so Din followed her directions and found a latrine just as she said. It was little more than a wooden box with a hole in it, but the rock outcrop gave some privacy, along with a weatherproof curtain that was tied to an adjacent tree. There was even a covered bucket of clean cloths. All the comforts of home. Din took care of Grogu, took a constitutional himself, and then headed back to Marathels’ hut. On the way, he washed his hands and Grogu’s in the cold stream that flowed under the platform. Upon climbing back up into her home, he saw that Marathel had constructed a fabric cubicle opposite her sleeping pad. The fabric seemed opaque enough to serve the purpose. Marathel was standing on her loom stool, stretched tall to clip the panel at the top, when she overreached and began to lose her balance. Din quickly crossed the platform and put a hand on her waist to balance her, but Marathel yelped with surprise and overcorrected, causing Din to wrap his arm around her waist to keep her from falling. She looked down at him with wide eyes, eyes that Din finally saw were the same liquid silver color as her hair, framed by pale lashes. Marathel jumped down and smoothed her tunic where he had touched her. Gesturing to the curtained area, she said, “This will work?”

Din nodded. “Yes. It will suffice.”

“Good. Wash your hands, I will fix you a plate.”

Din again followed her directions; it seemed that she would brook no quarter if he protested that he ate with his gloves on. He turned his shoulders away from her to remove his gloves, and he began to pour out warm water from the reservoir when she slid an open jar towards him. “Soap,” she said simply while she filled a larger bowl with the stew and slathered an enormous hunk of bread with the soft cheese. She placed the food on the stool and carried it into the fabric cubicle. Din quickly washed both his hands and Grogu’s for good measure. Marathel turned to him and said, “Please eat. If it pleases you, I could take Grogu out with me. We will leave you alone, but we will stay in the yard, so you can see us. He could help me gather.”

“That is fine.”

Grogu was already reaching for her, so she plucked him out of Din’s arms with a smile and settled him on her hip with practiced ease. She grabbed a large woven bag and walked down the steps of the platform. “Come Grogu, you are a strapping lad! Let’s see what we can find.”

Din entered the curtained space. The fabric seemed opaque enough, but he could still see both Marathel and Grogu in the sunlit yard. He picked up the food and sat on the stool. He lifted the helmet from his head, closing his eyes, breathing in the clean air of this planet. All at once he was pleasantly assaulted with smells: the aroma of the meat stew, the cleanliness of the fabric panels, the herbs in the cheese. Taking a bit of the stew, the meat melted in his mouth, the vegetables were flavorful. Din had intended to eat all the stew before biting into the bread, but he couldn’t wait anymore. His teeth bit through the crunchy, flaky crust into the soft center that had the perfect texture of porgsdown, and the sharpness of the cheese and the headiness of the herbs made him wonder what in blue fuck he had been eating his entire life if he had to travel beyond the edge of nowhere and meet possibly the strangest person in his life in order to find this, and as he chewed all these marvelous things together he believed that he would gladly face off against a Krayt Dragon armed with nothing but his middle finger if he could be eating this bread while he did so. He opened his eyes, breathing deeply though his nose, and the wind brought a fragrance that was sea salt and the wildflowers that blossomed in this woman’s yard. She kept her back to him – as she promised – as she knelt with Grogu in front of a bunch of berry bushes, showing him what to pick. He happily started pulling berries off for her and placing them carefully in her sack. He ate a few, of course, but spit them out. Din heard her laugh as she said, “Yes, dream berries taste bad to children, which is a good thing. Show me how many you can pick!” Grogu did pick for a while, but then he was distracted by a flying insect, which he chased around the yard. Marathel continued with her picking but kept Grogu in her sights at all times. As Grogu contemplated some sort of crawly critter on the ground, she came over and they both poked at it for a while until it rolled up and rolled away. Laughing, they began to play some sort of chasing game, while Din ate the best bread he had ever tasted, and – though he would never admit it — quietly laughed too as he watched the tall woman and the tiny green creature gambol about the yard.

The shadows in the yard were beginning to deepen by the time Din actually finished his meal. He had chewed each morsel of bread until they were liquified, and he had even picked up crumbs from the floor and ate them too, before he would admit that he was actually finished eating. By this time the running game had ended between Marathel and Grogu, and they sat on the steps with a bowl between them. Marathel was snapping beans into pieces and tossing them into the bowl; Grogu snapped the beans with much less skill and was preferring to chew on the pieces instead of putting them in the bowl. “Stop it, Grogu,” said Marathel, with a mock-stern look on her face. Noticing that Din had moved outside the cubicle, she smiled and asked, “All done?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“It is no bother.” She stood and collected the bowl and plate from him, moving back to the kitchen to place them in the dry sink. Din moved off the steps and began to strap the jet pack back onto his back. Marathel came forward to the top of the steps, directly above him. “Are you leaving?”

“Yes. We are thankful for your hospitality.”

Marathel looked dismayed. “But …. why leave?”

Din clicked the strap that held his blaster. “We are here for a bounty, and it would appear … we are not here at the right time. The bounty calls for you to deliver eggs. I take it there are no eggs at the moment?”

Marathel nodded, her eyes downcast. She slid her hands back into her sleeves. “It is not quite the season. But it is soon.”

“How long?”

Marathel's hands were so deep into her sleeves that they were almost rubbing her shoulders. Biting her lip, she walked back to her loom and pulled out a long chain of yarn through which she had woven short lengths of colored yarn in a complicated pattern. She counted out sections of patterns, and then looked out over the landscape for a long while. Her mouth moved silently for a moment, and then she moved back to the yard, looking into the sky. The moon was rising. She contemplated the moon. Finally, she moved closer to Din, with her eyes still downcast. Her hands went back into her sleeves – some sort of nervous gesture, he thought – and she finally said, “There will be eggs in four or five days. You will not have long to wait, Bounty Hunter.”

Din nodded. “Four or five days.”

Marathel shrugged. “Perhaps a bit more, perhaps a bit less.”

Din went back to replacing his vambraces. “Come, Grogu, we will return to the ship.”

Marathel quickly turned away to grab the bowl off the step. “Or you could stay here.”

Din looked up. “Here?”

Still back-to, Marathel gestured to the curtains she had hung. “You will have privacy. You will have meals. Would that not …. be all right?”

Din tilted his head and considered her spine. She obviously was not a flight risk, which was why he contemplated just staying on the ship for the next few days. It would cost him too much in fuel to leave and come back. He was concerned about trying to take the bounty without contacting this Bishop person, whoever he was, but Din was also concerned that The Bishop and the Hold would continue to be closed off to him. This was all a mystery, a puzzle, an enigma …. an enigma wrapped in a mystery who kept her hands covered and her head down and her back to him while she held a bowl of beans. Din looked down to see Grogu wrap his arms around her ankle and look back at him with his huge eyes, pleading. Din took a breath and softly muttered, “Haar’chak.” Louder, he said, “If we will not be trouble, we will stay.”

Marathel turned, Grogu still wrapped around her ankle, with a look that was somehow both relief and dread. “There is no trouble.” She tried to move back to the kitchen, but Grogu hampered her. She looked down at her ankle and chuckled. “I appear to have grown a Grogu. Let go, child, let’s get you and your father settled.” She pulled out yet another basket and unfurled another sleeping pad and collected blankets. She then lightly kicked the empty basket towards Din. “For your weapons. You may keep them in there. You may not wear them in my house. But you may keep the basket where you will sleep.” Marathel then set up the sleeping pad with blankets with her usual efficiency. Din removed his weapons again, placing them in the large basket, wondering what in Dha'tra he was getting himself into. She crossed the room and pulled the curtains around her sleeping pad so they were also closed. She turned back to Din. “My space, your space, yes? Privacy for both.” Din nodded. She clasped her hands together. “Very good. Now I will make us more tea, we will sit, and I will tell Grogu the story of Luad Dycwnigen.”

Within minutes, Din found himself sitting on Marathel’s front steps, a mug of tea at his hip. She knew he obviously wasn’t going to drink any in front of her, which was why she had graciously placed a saucer on top of the mug to keep it warm. Meanwhile, she was pointing at the moon, which now had fully risen, telling Grogu how the Luad Dycwingen had left the ground to live in the sky, where the Dahlrhddwhyrs could not catch him. Unfortunately, he had to live on the moon upside down because he had jumped too far. Din gazed at the moon as well, and asked, “What am I supposed to be seeing?”

“His shape. It’s that long, dark section there.”

“It would help if I knew what a Luad Dycwingen was.”

Marathel's brow furrowed. “He was a small, furry animal. Long strong legs, fluffy tail. Long ears that stand up and are almost transparent.”

“That sounds like a rabbit.”

Marathel shrugged. “Could be.”

Din considered the moon again. “I guess. If I squint.”

Marathel chuckled. “If your rabbits are the same as my dycwingens, they are good eating as well.” At this point, Grogu yawned hugely. “Ah yes, the wings of sleep are finally wrapping around the little one.” She pushed herself up and picked up her empty mug. Din stood as well. Marathel deftly handed off the child to Din and said, “My bed is calling for me as well. Have a good sleep, Bounty Hunter.” She went to the kitchen, quickly washed her face and brushed her teeth, and stepped into her curtained room. Looking over her shoulder, she realized that Din was watching her. She stared for a moment and disappeared behind the fabric.

Din stood where he was for a short while, listening. He finally heard the rustle of her laying down and then all was silence. He sat back down, Grogu nestled in his arms, asleep. Din reached for the mug of tea, slightly lifted his helmet, and sipped. It was still warm. It tasted different than the digestive tea she had given him earlier. It was a lighter flavor with a more calming effect – something sleepier, perhaps. He quietly sighed and stared into the stars, thinking about the oddity of a mark who welcomed him into her home and fed him before he turned her in.

Marathel, meanwhile, had curled onto her side and pressed her clasped fists into her mouth to keep from screaming. The Bishop, The Bishop was going to drag her back into that Hold, all for those damned Dahls and their damned eggs, but it wasn’t about them at all, it was about how The Bishop was never denied, NEVER, and now The Bishop had sent this man who wore more metal than she had ever seen in one place, who wore a helmet covering his eyes, to drag her back into that Hold and through the doors of the Round Building, and she was so, so, afraid.

Tears escaped her shut eyes, and she bit her thumb to keep her from breathing too loud because she knew that the metal man could hear her, the metal man was here to end her days away from the pain of the Hold, so she tried to shift her thoughts away from her fear and thought about the child, the little green child who made the metal man soft somehow.

She didn’t have the words, she was dumb, she knew hardly anything, but she knew what was coming in the next few days and she knew she couldn’t escape it ... and yet, there was always a kernel of a dream in the deepest part of her soul, and she let the sweetness of the little green child be part of that dream.

You Were Marked: Next Chapter ->

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian fanfiction #star wars smut #mandalorian smut #star wars fanfiction #din djarin smut #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin #din djarin fluff #din djarin series #din djarin imagine #the mandalorian angst #the mandalorian fluff

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dearlymrme · 2 years

Text

In The Deep - Part Two (Silco/F!Reader)

merman!Silco/F!Reader

1,016 Words

SFW

Part 1, Part 3

What starts as a fascination quickly turns into an obsession for both parties. As it turns out they had more in common then they first thought.

It would have been a little easy to ignore if it were a one time encounter, you’re scientific mind pondering at the mystery of the event but knowing the likelihood of ever seeing it again were slim. The river was big, its waters deep, and at the perfect point of where the river meets the ocean, the odds of encountering the same fish twice were unlikely. Besides the massive Kraken, which some days even disappeared, you are sure you'll unlikely see the mystery fish again.

But it happens again. It's the end of your day, your specimens are cooling in the fridge and you are sitting in front of the window. A small table, procured from the dump, sits beside you, Undercity triage performed on its broken leg that while it teeters the substitute leg of plastic holds. Your tea when you are not steadily sipping from it rests on said table, steam wafting from it with the scent of peppermint.

In your lap is a thick textbook of fish life and species along with more well known marine life recorded in its pages and you steadily flip through to see if you can find matching pictures and names of the fish you have seen. Your knowledge of marine life is limited to what the fishermen hook up from the river and still looking through the books pages and comparing there are a lot of fish that are simply impossible to find.

You can safely assume that the mutation had made them unrecognizable. You find bits and pieces of what they could have originally been, but it is a hash of new and unfamiliar parts that make them impossible to place. One has the right tail but the wrong color and one too many pectoral fins. One lacks the angler atop its head. Another has too many eyes. You were fascinated and imagining the likelihood that everything you had been seeing were whole new species.

That's when you saw it again. A burning and molten red eye swimming toward you from the deep and pausing just shy of the light that filtered in through the window. Its fire luminescence is too dark to reveal much more than its long, snake winding body.

You take in just how massive this creature is. By the line of its tail along it was much longer or rather taller than you were. The size of the thing, and that was only from the slight parts you could see.

"Aren't you fascinating?" You say and smile at it, quickly flipping through the book for eels and snake fish. "I wonder just what you are. Won't you come closer? I promise I won't bite." You chuckle and tip your head at it. "Although, you just might."

You know it can't hear you and likely isn't smart enough to even understand your interest in it but it does stare. You hum a small song to yourself, not minding the company at all.

And it stares and stares long enough that you flip through the entire section on eels and similar marine life. You find nothing and set your book to the side before standing and approaching the window one more time.

“Your home is just as fascinating as you are. When I was young my mom would tell me stories that her mom told her, that her mother told her, about this time when the river used to be clean. Like, clean enough people could swim in it, way before Piltover started using it as it’s personal trash can.” You ramble and lean slightly against the window trim.

“I became a scientist to try and figure out just how bad the damage was, if it was at all possible to maybe reverse it. We get a lot of our water from that river and the filters can only do so much. People get sick from it all the time. The effects it has on the human body…” You mutter and grind your teeth in anger.

“My great grandmother told me of times when the beaches were clear of plastic and waste, when the sands didn’t smell like garbage. And I want that. I think that sounds lovely.” You chortle and then frown, giving a solemn shake of your head. “It’s killing us up here but look at you.” You gesture to the creature. “Mother nature at its finest. Adapt and overcome.”

You look at it again and can’t help the yawn that crawls from your mouth. You give the fish a small wave.

"Well. I'll be out late tomorrow collecting samples at the beach. Mostly plastic and dead remains.” You mutter that last bit with a growl and then shrug before giving the creature a playful smile.

“Hey, I don't suppose you could throw some of that kelp to the shore for me, could ya?" You gesture to the tall stalk of greenery beside the window "Be really helpful if I could get my hands on a leaf or two." Greenery rarely washed up on the shore and you were wishing from a deep well for the likelihood of ever getting more. The sample you had, that you had to pay a fishman a steep amount of money for when it washed up in his net, was dried out and too brittle to work with anymore.

You had said it as a joke, just talking to yourself because you sure the fish, while smart in the way most wild predators were, couldn't understand you.

Imagine your surprise when the next day you come across leaves of kelp banked at the shore. What looks like half a stalk, just floating with the push and pull of the waves, laid out for you like a gift.

Your slack jawed and shocked, almost consider it some sort of trap before tentatively approaching it with the care of most scientists. As in you get out your poking stick and flip through its fronds, half expecting a large mutated crab to scuttle out and snip at you

You hear a chuckle amongst the shushing of the shore and turn to glance out at the water's surface. Turning just in time to see what looked like a tailfin slap against the waves.

#silco #silco league of legends #silco arcane #mermay #mermaid #merman!silco #reader #reader insert #writing #dee writes #league of legends #league of legends (arcane)#arcane #silco x reader

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screpa · 1 year

Text

Levi was fine

Summary: You finally told Levi and Hange of your new relationship with Bertolt. Levi knew that you were more than just a dear friend to him. But he was fine with you being with someone else. Was he?

Notes: (1) This piece was difficult for me to write (T^T) I almost cried a couple of times, as I put myself in Levi’s shoes. I’ve experienced enough heartbreak to know the pain of losing the person I love to someone else. I didn’t want to put my beloved Levi in this situation, but that’s how life is. At times, we have to let go of someone we love and wish them happiness. But, as in Levi’s case, sometimes love needs a detour before arriving to its final destination ^^ (2) Maybe listen to Michael Jackson’s ’She’s out of my life’ when reading this if you want to elevate the gut-wrenching effect. (I guess now you know how I old I am considering the song choice ha-ha-ha. I know classics, okay, I may be old but not THAT old :-D)

Tags: SFW, sad, heartbreaking, lost love, gloomy

Read it here or on AO3, up to you ^^

You don’t really know why you kept postponing to tell your best friends, Levi and Hange, about your new relationship with Bertolt.

You knew it wasn’t because they’d judge you.

You were sure that they wouldn’t see the age and rank gap between you and Bert as problematic. Age was just a number and Bertolt was already the legal age to be intimate with you. As for rank, they knew you were too kind to take advantage of other people. It’d be more likely for Bert to take advantage of your naïveté, but you knew for sure both of them would have your back in the slim chance that would happen.

But you felt they wouldn’t be ecstatic with the news anyway.

Hange may be upset with the news. Your friendship with them couldn’t be considered as purely platonic. You enjoyed hugging, cuddling and giving them light peck kisses, which were normal between close friends.

They were your source of comfort, like a warm fluffy blanket in cold autumn nights.

That slightly changed during one of your pillow talks. Both of you almost crossed the line and realized of the mutual love you had for each other. With the line uncrossed, you maintained a close friendship, although sometimes you were both bothered and gutted by the missed opportunity toward happiness together.

So, you were dispirited by the fact that you were going to break their heart.

As for Levi…

You didn’t really know why you thought he’d be upset with the news. For all you knew, you had a one-sided love toward him. He only saw you as his dear friend and a soldier under his care.

Maybe he’d be upset because he didn’t like change. Maybe he didn’t want you to divert your time for training or for helping him with paperwork to spend time with Bertolt. Or, maybe he just didn’t want to share one of the few people he trusted to someone else.

Whatever it was, you knew he’d be bitter about it.

You decided to just tell them the news quickly like taking off a bandaid. Just blurt it out then leave. Everything would be back to normal the next day. You were sure of it.

Tonight was the perfect opportunity. The three of you were hanging out at Levi’s office to discuss about Hange’s plan to capture a few titans for research. Erwin was still unmoving with the idea, so Hange was trying to get stubborn Levi on their side.

But you didn’t get to tell them because of their petty disagreements. They both had good points but they couldn’t meet in the middle. The argument was so heated that you had to be the middle woman to prevent them from saying things they’d regret later on.

After an hour of their bickering, you were too emotionally drained to say anything to them.

Noticing your dispirited body slumped on the sofa, Hange softened and decided to throw in the towel for the time being. The discussion could continue another day, they thought.

‘Hey, Y/N, tomorrow’s our day off. How about the three of us have tea and sweets together in town in the afternoon? Just to relax for a bit. How about that?’ Hange asked you cheerfully.

At the mention of tea, Levi’s ears perked up and his mood was lifted. He nodded while maintaining his signature stoic expression.

This was the chance you had been waiting for!

With true regret in your voice you told them, ‘That’d be nice, but I have a date tomorrow’.

Both of them stared at you. Levi with his unchanged stoic expression, Hange with clear surprise on their face.

After a minute of silence had passed, Hange asked you in a whisper, ‘A date? With who?’

You took a deep breath and said, ‘Bertolt. We’re together now’.

‘To– together? I thought it was just a date?’ Hange asked in disbelief. You could hear their voice starting to shake.

Tears started to fill your eyes as you realized that their heart was breaking because of you. You had to end this conversation. There was no need to drag it out, knowing that there’d only be more pain.

‘We’ve been together for a while now. So sorry that I didn’t tell both of you earlier. I wanted to, but, just, didn’t know how’.

‘So… It’s serious?’ Hange sounded so miserable.

You felt tears spilling out of your eyes.

‘Yes. I love him’.

You cried not because you felt it was wrong to love Bertolt, yet it was still painful for you to tell them the truth.

Hange looked up to the ceiling, trying to keep their tears from spilling down.

After a while, they took in a deep breath and exhaled long and slow. They turned their face to you, showing you their warm, supportive smile.

They told you cheerfully, ‘I’m happy for you and Bertolt! I genuinely wish you and him nothing but happiness. Let’s have a drink tomorrow night to celebrate, okay? I know where Mobilt kept his homemade rice wine’.

You smiled at them, grateful of their support. ‘I’d love that,’ you sincerely told them.

Then you turned your gaze to Levi. He still had the same stoic expression.

After a minute or two of him staring at you in silence, you stood up to take your leave. You accepted that he wouldn’t say anything. He wasn’t too big with congratulations, so there was no point waiting.

‘We’ll have the tea and sweets next time okay? Don’t have too much fun without me you two’. You tried to sound cheerful although you knew that you sounded so superficial.

Hange wished you good night and you quickly went out of the room.

You ran toward your dorm room.

You knew you’d spend the night crying for your two lost loves.

—

When Y/N closed the door behind her, Levi heard the sound of her running footsteps. The sound echoed in his head. Tap. Tap. Tap. There was nothing in his head other than the gradually fading sound of her footst–

SMACK!

A hard slap on the back of his head jolted him away from his melancholic thoughts.

He rubbed the back of his head and turned his face toward the perpetrator.

He was going to yell at them, but he saw Hange’s angry, tear stained face and kept his silence.

Suddenly Hange kicked the coffee table in front of them so hard that it flipped. They then stood and went toward his office table. They flung everything that was on top of the table across the room. They then let out a long angry growl.

Levi just stared, not knowing how to comfort his friend.

Hange spoke between clenched teeth without looking at him, ‘Remember this. The emptiness you're feeling right now. It was NOT acceptance. It was utter regret’.

Levi could taste the venom from the Hange’s ‘utter regret’.

With that, Hange left him.

He stood up to put the coffee table in its place. The part that Hange kicked was now dented with wood splinters covering the chipped part. He had to wipe and fix that later, he thought. Maybe sand it a bit to get all the splinters out. Wouldn’t want anyone to get an annoying splinter stuck on their clothes or, worse, on their skin.

He went to pick up all of the papers, books and pencils on the floor and placed them tidily on the table. He had to rearrange the papers, he thought. If he delayed it for tomorrow, some important papers could slip somewhere. He had to do it before bed tonight.

But first, he had to clean up the shattered ink bottle. It’d take a while to lift the stain from the floor. That one couldn’t wait. He wouldn’t want an ugly stain on the floor. Better get going to get the cleaning equipment…

It was way past midnight when his office was as neat as before Hange’s outburst. He sat on his office chair and looked out the window. He stared at the darkness outside.

Now he had to confront his thoughts and feelings, which were muted when he was busy tidying up.

Utter regret. Was that what he was feeling at the moment?

What was Y/N to him?

She was a dear friend, indeed. Ever since she gave him the portraits of Isabel and Furlan, Levi had accepted her as his friend, just as he had accepted Erwin and Hange. His friendship with the three of them were built on the solid foundation of trust and compassion.

But he noticed that there was something different, something more with Y/N, compared to his friendship with Erwin and Hange.

He was somehow drawn to her. Levi appreciated her beauty, but that wasn’t the reason he always discreetly searched for her whenever he entered a room. There were a lot of beautiful women and men in the Regiment, but none was half as charming as Y/N.

Maybe the fact that she knew how to act around him helped. She was never intimidated by him or expected him to act like other people. She let him take his own pace in the relationship while she stayed true to her kind and caring nature.

Oh, she could annoy the heck out of him with her lax attitude toward training and sloppiness during expeditions. Not to mention her vulgarity and foolishness whenever she was with Hange. She could also be rude and mocking toward him. She knew just the right ways to irk him.

But he enjoyed being annoyed at her as it meant he had her by his side.

Even during the most irritating moments, Y/N always soothed him.

He couldn’t remember when he started to place himself beside her whenever they were in the same room. It wasn’t easy since she was friendly with a lot of people in the Regiment. Sometimes he found himself sulking when she was surrounded by people. He couldn’t insert himself in between the others without accidentally touching them. Then he had to settle with gazing at her and listening to her sing-song voice from afar.

He didn’t know what she meant to him until Erwin put it to him straight and simple.

It was after a morning meeting with the Captains and Scout Leaders. Levi was watching Y/N going out of the meeting room with the others.

Erwin, who was still sitting beside him, whispered, 'Stop gazing and tell her’.

He turned to Erwin and saw that he was also looking at Y/N.

‘Tell her what?’

‘That you love her’.

Ah, that was what it was.

Love.

But he never got around to say it. He didn’t know how. The three words were always at the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t make them escape from his mouth.

So, he decided to show his love through his actions. Believing, to his undoing, that she’d feel it. He kept her close by spending as much time with her as possible. He made her think that he needed her help with paperwork when he could do them quicker himself.

He trained her hard to ensure that she could fend for herself. Even though he could feel the hate in her eyes during every training. He thought, it’d be better for her to hate him for a while rather than having her injured or, worse, killed.

He thought that their relationship was solid. In his mind, they were already a partner, set for life.

Levi buried his head in his hands. You’re such an idiot, he screamed to himself, you lost her because you could't utter those three simple words.

He heard her running footsteps again. Tap. Tap. Tap. Away, and away she went. To a place he was no longer allowed to follow…

Nothing seemed to change between them the morning after. Y/N was already at the mess hall, at her usual spot. She was talking animatedly with Hange on her side. She greeted him like she always did. Hange threw a cold stare at him then quickly changed to their normal, goofy self.

Levi took some food and sat across Y/N and Hange as he normally did. He’d eat while listening to whatever weird discussion Y/N and Hange were having. He’d winced at their vulgar comments and grunted when they asked for his opinion.

Things didn’t have to change just because she belonged to someone else, he thought.

Y/N excused herself to get to her squad.

Levi then realized something trivial, but could’ve been a clear sign if only he noticed it sooner.

Y/N always left her breakfast milk carton unopened.

If there was something she didn’t like, she’d force him to eat it. You need more nourishment, she’d tell him. But she always kept the milk.

He always gazed at her, so he knew who she gave the milk to.

He sighed, appalled by his stupidity.

Y/N was kind and caring, but even she wouldn’t go out of her way for someone like that.

Like himself, it was the little things that mattered, that separated the special person from the rest of the crowd.

He saw Y/N gave the milk to Bertolt. It was just like any other mornings. She’d cheerfully give the milk cartoon to him and the pine tree would stutter. No. He no longer stuttered. Instead, he looked at her with such tenderness. He didn’t abruptly take it from her like he usually did, but placed his hand on hers. He left his hand there, rubbing his thumb on her skin.

Levi couldn’t watch anymore. He tried to focus on his food.

He didn’t want to watch her walk away, yet he did. Y/N and Bertolt walked side by side, barely touching. But Levi could see clearly the silent intimacy between the two of them.

The following days, weeks and months, Y/N treated him the same way. She was still her kind, rude, foolish, and vulgar self with him. She still helped him with paper work and obediently followed his training. He went back to the routine of discreetly searching for her whenever he entered a room and the deftly positioned himself beside her.

But he’d avoid all of the places where he caught a glimpse of her with Bertolt.

He spent more time monitoring Eren in the abandoned fortress, just so he could be away from the headquarters more.

Yet, he couldn’t be away too long from her, so he arranged a one-on-one training with her once a week. He knew she hated it, but this was the only time he could steal her away from her lover and the others.

He knew it was cowardly of him. But knowing how happy she was with the pine tree, he just had to deny his feelings.

It was enough that she still considered him as her dear friend.

It was enough to have a couple of hours in a week with her.

It was enough to know that she was happy.

As long as she was still alive, nothing else mattered.

Or so he kept telling himself…

This story is part the "Detours to Your Heart" series, comprises of stories of YOUR friendship and slow burn romance with Levi Ackerman. You build many interesting relationships with other AOT characters, such as ambiguous friendship/ romance with Hange Zoe, a whirlwind romance with Bertolt Hoover, sibling-like relationship with Jean Kirstein, and many more!

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#levi x you #levi x fem!reader #levi x y/n #levi x reader #levi ackerman #levi attack on titan #aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #attackontitan #attack on titan fanfiction #shingeki no kyoujin fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin #slow burn #heartache #heartbreak #sad thoughts #sad love #lost love

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gryffindormischief · 2 years

Text

gemütlich

A/N: @jilychallenge April 2022! partner for the month is the fabulous @maraudersftw. It's technically still April in my timezone hehe

Prompt: "we bumped into each other on a saturday morning, both doing our walk of shame"

FF // Ao3

The sun has just begun warming the clouds away when two zombie-like beings collide on the sidewalk in front of some non-corporate cafe - The Grind apparently. One party - a redhead currently grateful for the extra padding afforded by her deep purple gloves - is knocked backward with a level of force that will surely bruise her tailbone.

Her collision partner loses his spectacles to a melty puddle but manages to retain his footing. “Bugger.”

“Nice to meet you, Bugger.”

No-Glasses laughs. “James’ll do. So will my specs if you see them lying around.”

Redhead accepts James’ offered hand and once she’s on her feet passes over the glasses she’d located. “I presume these are yours. Unless someone else lost theirs and decided to hell with it.”

“Much obliged…” he pauses, waiting for her name. Though the previously upended redhead doesn’t recognize the motivation too quickly. She’s more concerned with the state of her palms, though it seems the gloves did do their job - their part time unexpected job.

James grabs the door and the warm scent of coffee wafts in the air. He blinks and nudges his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Erm, you don’t need to tell me your name.”

She blinks slowly. “Sorry - I’m a bit off. Too early.”

James nods.

“Lily,” she adds over her shoulder as she enters the shop, turned away too soon to see the grin that lights James’ face.

Only the early birds are enjoying the quiet comfort of the shop while the lone barista loads fresh looking pastry into the gleaming glass case. Both of the most recent entrants are in a strange sort of headspace, the type that only occurs when you’ve been up all night, and so continue their odd shuffle toward the counter.

Lily arrives first and chooses a green tea latte and one of the hearty looking blueberry and something or other muffins. Once she’s fumbled through her payment and James fumbles through his own order, pointing blearily toward something in the case and asking for tea in the vaguest way possible. He pays and ignores the barista’s cheeky, slightly judging gaze. That’s all he has energy for.

At least, it seems so until he turns and nearly sends Lily sprawling for the second time in a quarter hour.

“Do you enjoy knocking people down?” LIly teases, eyeing his slim fingers clasped around her elbow.

“You just bring it out in me I suppose,” James says with a smirk, patting her elbow in an awkward gesture of…something.

Lily just follows the movements with her gaze but seems to accept their silent agreement to remain just that. Silent.

The sights, sounds, and scents of the shop slowly bring her energy to a more useful level - low chatter of customers on their cellphones, the steamer hard at work presumably to make her own latte, the morning sun slowly warming the window panes, all while soft acoustic music plays like a backdrop to her day.

Soon enough her drink is called and Lily grasps it like a lifeline while stuffing her gloves away into her satchel. James shuffles backward like he thinks she’ll just steamroll right over him and she might be insulted but is currently beyond interest in ephemeral human emotions. Except the feeling that she might die without something warm and fresh and milky and delicious which will be a need soon satisfied.

Lily takes one long inhale before taking a long sip.

James watches, but in a non creepy way. More of those zombie side effects.

But he’s observant nonetheless and a compulsive reader so he soon finds himself blurting, “No caffeine?”

His companion blinks.

He ruffles his hair. “Sorry. I’m beat. Brain to mouth filter’s - ” he gestures vaguely.

“Same,” Lily agrees, glancing around the cafe.

There’s a moment of delicious miscommunication, one of those interactions where both parties are unreasonably and incorrectly positive about their perception of the situation. More specifically in this instance, Lily is simply focused on her need to take a load off while James has begun to firmly believe that Lily is looking for an exit strategy.

She’s quiet another moment, tapping the side of her cup, before responding. “Ya no caffeine. I live close and I'm off for a bit so time to sleep - just a bit chilly. And stressed despite the attempts at fun.”

James nods, shuffling away only far enough to put him within arms reach of the counter. Soon enough they call his order and he grabs the cup. “I get it - gotta get something in you first.”

Lily doesn’t respond and once again James jumps to conclusions which unfortunately conform to his pessimistic tendencies where romance is concerned. So instead of noting that Lily’s gaze lingers on the flowing movement of his fingers as he grasps for his drink, he panics. “Wait - not in you. Not me. Not well in you as in the drink but. Shit.”

“Wow, James,” she laughs, “I did not even go there.”

For his part, James flushes red as a cherry, “I told you I was overtired.”

Lily chuckles again.

“I shouldn’t be allowed in public after a night shift.”

“All-nighters are weird,” Lily allows with what’s intended as an encouraging smile, “It’s simultaneously too late and too early to be awake.”

“Hungover but usually without any of the fun,” James agrees, shuffling his feet. He definitely wants to sit down, take a load off. But he also wants to continue this little whatever-it-is and changing locations sounds like a good way to spook Lily.

Still, nothing ventured, nothing gained, carpe diem, veni, vidi, vici, whatever else - basically James likes catchy sayings and jumping headfirst into potential messes. So he gestures toward her with a shockingly smooth sweep of his hand, then tilts his head toward the empty tables. “Care to take a seat? See if I can help you relax?”

This time, Lily’s mind does go there and she’s the one flushing. Which of course sets off the chain reaction and James is once again fumbling for an explanation. Why does everything sound like a dirty pick up line when you haven’t slept?

Lily clears her throat as she unbuttons her jacket and loosens the scarf around her neck. “What’s your purpose for the late night then?”

James jolts when his name is shouted across the cafe and fails in his attempt to resist the urge to flick the barista off when he wriggles his brows suggestively.

When he removes his coat and settles at the table again, James can’t help a nervous grin. But he has tapped into his creative wooing inspiration and so he takes a sip of his drink. “I could tell you why I was up so late-early.”

Lily mirrors his smile. “Or?”

“Or we make it a game - guess what the other does.”

“I already feel like I’m hallucinating,” Lily shrugs, “So why not?”

James attempts a wink that’s really more of an exaggerated blink. “Don’t you mean dreaming? Since I’m so dreamy?”

“You’re not a poet then,” Lily snickers, taking another sip of her drink while James blushes like the sunrise.

He clears his throat and chews on what should be a bite of croissant but feels like a mouthful of sawdust. Even the pastry has betrayed him. Embarrassed as he is, has been since meeting Lily, she doesn’t seem to dislike it, so he tries to calm his pounding heart and takes stock of her appearance more intently.

She smirks while he does it, fingernails tapping away on the table top, chipped neon yellow paint glowing against her freckled skin. Lily clears her throat and he follows her hand as it ruffles her slightly overgrown fringe. Slightly overgrown and…purple.

“Punk band!”

Lily grabs his extended finger where it hovers in front of her nose. “I can guess how you got there and I did absolutely shred on Guitar Hero last night…but no.” Then with a brief, thoughtful tap of her chin and a quick visual examination of his torso Lily puts in her guess - apparently trying to send James into fits, “You’re fit. I say EMT.”

Focusing on taking another bite of croissant, James keeps his composure and channels all those swirling hormones how he’s done since he hit puberty. “Nope! Suck it.”

“We haven’t even had dinner,” Lily gasps like he should be clutching her pearls. Unfortunately, James’ radar for good natured teasing appears to be severely impacted by his sleep schedule and he immediately starts gasping out apologies, which leads to him almost immediately getting a buttery bite of croissant lodged in his windpipe.

After he manages to thoroughly embarrass himself with much needed back slapping from his acquaintance and a very messy napkin, James basically wants to melt into the floor. He recovers somewhat when the barista comes over with allegedly helpful intent that feels more like he thinks James’ misfortune is live entertainment.

Lily’s concern during the ordeal was evident but he can’t say there are many people in the world he would watch choking to death without feeling some sort of personal distress. Or at least pity. Which is just what you want when on an impromptu coffee shop date…pity.

He looks up, still floundering for some way to bounce back and finally notes Lily’s concern has shifted in the face of his recovery. “No bloody way you’re laughing after I almost die.”

“I wouldn’t have let you die,” Lily says with a roll of her eyes, though James is more intent on the curl of her lips.

For her part, Lily’s obliviousness is currently preventing her notice of James’ adoring look. Mostly because her tease-to-flirt instinct has been triggered and the material and motivation are particularly high in the current scenario.

“I can’t really know that since I don’t even know what you do for a living - I barely know your name.”

“You’re the one with the whole guessing game!”

“I almost died,” James says with a pout, “Near murder by pastry is very traumatizing. Give me a hint.”

Lily sighs and takes another sip of her tea. “Fine. My tiredness isn’t about work per se.”

Perceptiveness hits an all time high for the interaction so far when Lily does realize James deflates at her hint. Though she doesn’t understand the reason until he asks, “Date?”

“No,” she snorts, thinking about what she’d actually been doing, then softens and smiles as she repeats, “No date. My turn now. Was yours about work?”

“Yes,” James hedges, which earns him a swift kick to his shin, “Alright I give - I’m usually not so late.”

Lily steeples her fingers and hums, entirely focused as only the truly competitive can manage, while James watches with attentiveness the result of how utterly smitten he is in concert with the aforementioned and much belabored overtiredness. Finally Lily blows out a deep breath, “Ok…surgeon?”

“To mum’s chagrin no,” James chuckles. “It was a bit of a blow to the family when my years of high performance in the sciences - chemistry at the top of the list - did not pay off with any sort of post-uni degree. It didn’t even really figure in to - ”

He abruptly cuts off his soliloquy when he catches sight of Lily’s eager gaze. Not eager in the way he really deeply hopes for but in the ‘I’m about to win and there’s nothing you can do about it’ sense. And she might think she is more competitive but in the competitiveness competition, James always wins. Just by virtue of the fact that he has thought - and on occasion said - that sentence more than once he wins. “And that’s all you get for free, cheater.”

“Hey you freely offered information, I am not obligated to silence you,” Lily argues. Then she winks, “Besides, you flailing your hands and talking is cute.”

“What kind of cute?”

“Is that your question?”

James narrows his eyes and levels an accusing finger, “Devious - oh I want to use your last name. It really solidifies the whole frenemies vibe we have going.”

“Oh I do see your point,” Lily agrees, offering her hand with mock solemnity, “Evans. And yourself?”

“Potter. And I see through your little act.”

“Is the little baby offended by big bad Lily Evans?”

James narrows his eyes, “Not at all, my motivation to destroy you has simply reached new heights.”

“Do go on.”

He pauses, taking in Lily’s profile as she turns automatically as the bell rings over the door. It’s the first group to enter the cafe since they arrived. They’re too casual to be on the way to the office - too happy too, especially with the biting cold morning ushering them inside. They have that early days of holiday glow about them. Lily turns back, swirling her mug before she takes another sip, blinking at him as if to silently say, ‘I’m waiting.’

“Ok. Alright. So you played guitar hero,” James starts and Lily nods, so he continues, “…I smell a bit of wine - no offense I’m an adept sniffer - you needed to unwind?

Lily’s brows rise but she hasn’t tossed her drink at him so it’s no major offense at least. “Yes and that’s your question Potter, so guess.”

“Police?”

“Nah I’m too nerdy…and cuddly.”

James blushes while the combined cacophony of an influx of orders being taken, steaming milk, and resulting chatter from customers fills the cafe. They both seem of the mind to wait until the din lessens, sharing hesitant glances and nibbling away at the last of their breakfasts.

The till rings out the last of the cafe goers and Lily hums. “So. Your mum wishes…you’re in something non-traditional.”

He raises his brow, not a denial but not giving anything away for free.

“A bit of a rebel maybe?” She taps her mug, “Not a keep the parents happy type.”

“It wasn’t solely for the purpose of rebelling,” James says, “Mum and dad made it hard to rebel.”

“Too clever?”

“Mum thought it was funny - my type of rebelling at least,” James provides, an affectionate smile ghosting across his lips.

“Which was?” Lily prods.

“Sure you’re not a cop?”

“Ha-ha. Trust me, my ages of training won’t let me forget what I am.”

James’ brows rise but he doesn’t mention the clue drop. “I - and my mates - we were mostly about good natured pranks on each other, people at school. Sometimes our parents.”

“And your dad.”

“A softy, for me and my mum. He got the closest to discipline though. I think all that’s why he didn’t seem shocked when I - hell you little minx!”

Lily lays her palm against her chest, all innocence. “Why sir, what have I done?”

“Time for your guess,” James says, jabbing his finger in her direction, “No more free information.”

“You’ve said that before. And I just asked - ”

“You asked many questions, Ms. Evans.”

They both choose to ignore the slight dilation of Lily’s eyes, the color that rises to her cheeks, and her intake of breath at the sound of James ‘serious’ voice.

“I will add - in the spirit of good sportsmanship - that in answer to your sort of original question, Mum and Dad have adjusted and mostly have just wanted me to be happy. So guess.”

“I really should be getting closer,” Lily sighs, “Bartender?”

“Fear not, you’re slowly circling my industry now,” James offers, certainly some intent for comfort but a little tinge of cockiness that rankles Lily a bit. And he likes it just a bit too. “Nerdy eh? Are you a…doctor?”

She narrows her eyes. “Yes…but maybe not in the sense you would think. Circling your industry…food?”

“Yup,” James says, easy, as he takes another sip from his mug.

“Chefs don’t normally work overnight…” Lily reasons aloud before her eyes light, “OH! Can I sniff you?”

“It’s only fair,” James chuckles, offering his hand like a romance heroine waiting for a wooer to kiss his knuckles, “Plus it makes my earlier sniffing less creepy.”

A bit too brusquely - at least to keep with the gothic romance James invented - Lily grabs his fingers and sniffs. Sniffs like a bloodhound, starting with his knuckles, then the end of his shirtsleeve, then up his arm in a weird mimic of Gomez’s romancing of Morticia, her chair squeaking on the tile floor as she scoots around the table. Once she reaches his shoulder, Lily’s head shoots up so quickly she nearly gives James a bloody nose.

“Baker!”

James instantly burst into laughter, no longer able to contain himself at the sight of her hunched over with a wild look in her eyes, grasping at his shoulder, triumph lighting her features. She blushes and James assumes it’s the result of his teasing laughter. Lily knows in her heart - even if it’s way deep down - that however much she focuses on the warm scents of flour, cinnamon, and whatever else describes the comforting scents of freshly baked goods, she’s flushed and nervous being mere inches from James’ face. So close she can see the faint freckles camouflaged by his annoyingly golden and sun kissed skin.

He swipes tears from his eyes, disregarding the crooked set of his glasses and the newly acquired fingerprints across the lenses like the lifelong user of specs he is, and pats Lily’s hand where it still rests on his shoulder. Both are a bit too embarrassed at the touch to notice just how much the other is.

With jerky movements, Lily moves back around to her side of the table and picks at the lid on her tea. After a breath she asks, “So do I win?”

“You got it, Dr. Evans the vet.”

She looks up, green eyes narrowed, “I still won.”

“You basically cheated by making me pick your specific arena.”

“Whatever,” Lily drawls, waving him off.

Their gazes catch, drawn together like magnets, and real quiet falls between them for what may be the first time since they met.

The magic of the moment is broken by Lily’s yawn, and James’ answering one. He props his temple on his closed fist. “Kinda forgot how tired I was.”

Lily mirrors his pose, sleepy enough to give in to the little tinge of romanticism still lingering in the back of her brain. “Me too.”

“This is the best result I've gotten from Sirius skiving off his night baking duty,” James muses, soft like you might speak across messy, sundrenched pillows in the early morning.

Lily combs her hair back from her face, hoping to distract from her blush. Though the effort is a failure given James’ knowing grin, she plugs away with the conversation. “Sirius?”

“Brother,” James says short, internally girding himself for what comes next. Outwardly it’s a lot of weird glaring at Lily that almost has her apologizing. For what she’s not sure but hell if he doesn’t have a very intense serious face.

James takes a deep breath that fills his chest. “So if I’m wrong,” a needless clearing of his throat and he proceeds, “if I’m wrong or you don’t or whatever I'm not gonna be a creep but would you - ”

Lily nods encouragingly as her hands grip at her empty cup.

“Want to go out?” James finishes in an exhale.

“With you?” Lily clarifies, a smirk at her lips.

James scowls and nudges her foot beneath the table. “Yes with me, Ms. Sass.”

“Dr. Sass.”

He flicks her knuckles. “Forgive me.”

She smiles softly, “Yeah - on both accounts. Put your number in mine?”

Lily hands him her mobile and pops the last bit of her muffin into her mouth with a sigh. “Yummy in my tummy.”

James chuckles as he finishes typing in his details. “Maybe next time I’ll put something fresh and warm in you.”

He freezes, thumbs poised over her phone screen and Lily gets the treat of watching a brilliant red not unlike a sunset ease up from his neck over his ears. “Oh my god.”

Lily’s laughter bubbles over and she grabs his wrist. “Are you alright to get home?”

Somehow, inexplicably, the blush intensifies on his skin. “Actually I,” he ruffles his hair with one hand and passes her phone back with the other, “I, uh, live upstairs.”

“So you get this deliciousness wafting up into your flat every day? Your probably pay their rent with your impulse purchases.”

“Uh, you’re more right than you know.”

James taps his finger on the table in a nervous tick and Lily slips into amateur detective-mode once again, her eyes darting from James to the remains of her breakfast, then finally to the barista who’s left his position at the counter and appears at her elbow. “Can I clear the table for you?”

Automatically, Lily looks up with a polite smile, ready to reply, but James answers first, jaw tight. “No thank you. We’ll finish up in a bit and I’ll take care of things.”

Lily’s shoulders slump, wondering if she’s accidentally given her number to one of those ‘mistreat the staff to seem important’ blokes, when the barista winks at her and then sends a shit-eating grin toward her table mate. “Right-o Boss Man.”

Barista bloke turns back to Lily and he wriggles his brows once before heading back toward his station. He does pick up a few stray bits of trash along the way so his trip wasn’t only to frazzle James.

Lily sighs. “So is this a weird pick up routine? Hang around early in the morning looking all fit and disheveled and smelling of baked goods and then get someone up to your conveniently located flat for a quick shag?”

“S’not quick,” James mutters to the tabletop.

She laughs. “Sorry, didn’t catch that.”

James looks up, eyes earnest as he stares her down, “I’m very thorough in my ‘shags’ and no I don’t do pick ups in my shop. In fact I’ve had a rule against it for me and Sirius and he’s teasing me because I finally met someone so unbelievably fanciable that I broke my own company policy in front of him.”

They get a couple looks from a nosy group of teens settled a table over and James dips his head. “Sorry. I’m just tired and he’s a dick and - ”

“No apologies,” Lily says with a smile, “Sorry - I tease a lot. It’s my way.”

“Don’t you apologize,” James nearly shouts, and definitely loud enough that they earn a few more glances from their fellow patrons. “I swear I’m just - I really do think you’re - ”

“Alright then,” Lily cuts in, grasping one of James’ flailing hands, “How about you make it up to me next time?”

James turns his attention to her fully, looking puppy-like. “How?”

She leans in and whispers against his ear, “Maybe I’ll get some of your muffins in bed.”

#jilychallenge #blarg writes things #jily au #jily #James x lily #jily fic #blarg writes jily

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smreviewblog · 10 months

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groundcontrol21 · 2 years

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Sicktember #9

Prompt #9: Home Remedy

Character(s): Anatoly, his mom, and his sister Elisaveta

Title: Old Time’s Sake

Summary: University student Anatoly is home from school when he catches a cold, and his mother’s folk remedies clash greatly with his modern, medical sensibilities.

Notes: Now you get to see yesterday’s Onions of Legend.

The moment Anatoly came back to his childhood home for his winter study break, he was enveloped by his mother and sister as though he hadn’t just seen them for dinner the month before. When they finally broke away from the embrace, his mother was crying, and Elisaveta was sniffling, too. Anatoly mocked her for her newfound sentimentality, but it turned out there had been a cold making the rounds at the typist’s office and Elisaveta had brought it home a couple days before. But she was, for all intents and purposes, better, she said, save for a bit of lingering sniffles and raspy throat.

So naturally, Anatoly came down with it two days later.

He shuffled into the cramped kitchen for breakfast, but didn’t even make it to take a seat at the battered old table before one of his mother’s hands was on his forehead and the other was pointing him back through the door to his bedroom through which he had come.

“Hehh’KNSSH’uhh!” He twisted away from her, folding into the crook of his robe. “Hehhh… Snf! I’m–Snf! I’m fine. I–KSHHH’uhh! Snf! It’s just a cold.”

His mother smoothed her hand over his hair, but regarded him sternly. “Back to bed, now. I’ll prepare the tea.” She spun him around, hands on his shoulders, and marched him back into his cramped little bed. Once he had climbed in, she pulled the tattered quilt up to his chin, her expression infinitely concerned, and for a moment, Anatoly thought he might cry as her hands brushed against his cheek.

Then, she clapped her hands together and exclaimed, “The onions!”, and any tender feelings Anatoly harbored dried up within him.

“No,” he groaned, coughing a bit in the aftermath. “Mama, they don’t work. There is absolutely nothing medically proven about–”

“You think you know more than your mother because you are studying to be a doctor, hmm?” She flicked his ear. “You are a smart boy, Tolya, but there are some things you don’t learn in books.”

“Ehhh’KSSHHH! Mama…”

“Stay put. I’ll be back with the onions.”

Anatoly flopped back on his pillow with a long-suffering groan, resigning himself to a day full of raw vegetables and boiled spices that would make his eyes water. Sure enough, his mother returned with tea and onions, the combined effect of which was so strong that, though Anatoly remained as bunged up as ever and could not smell them, he had the added bonus of a stinging, tickling nose thrown in the mix. By the time Elisaveta had left to meet with her friend for lunch, Anatoly had sneezed so much he was positively exhausted and had no choice to drop off to sleep.

“Hi.” Anatoly cracked his eyes open to see Elisaveta slip in through the door. “Hope you weren’t sleeping.”

He sighed, but he couldn't find it in himself to be upset at the interruption, and he flipped on his side to face her as she went to the window. “You wouldn’t care if I was.”

“Not really, no.” She tucked herself up into a cross-legged ball on the slim little windowsill just as she had been doing for as long as Anatoly could remember, like a cat in a sunbeam. It was far too narrow a ledge for her; she was half-hanging off and looked far from comfortable, and one day soon it would surely break and send her to the floor, but for now Anatoly drank in the familiarity of the scene, watching as the winter sun illuminated the side of her face. “You’ve got the nighttime for sleeping.”

“How was Zoya?” he asked, wiping at his nose and sitting up a bit on his elbows. “Is she still pining over me?”

Elisaveta was staring at something out the window, the tip of her nose pressed to the glass. “She’s found a guy in these past few months, a steelworker. She seems happy enough, but I bet if you only said the words…”

“You know I won’t.”

She turned, looked directly at Anatoly, an understanding smile hiding deep within her eyes. “I know.”

The silent moment between them was broken when Anatoly began to cough, the feeling hot and sore in his throat. He was at that awful beginning stage of a cold when everything was wrong at once; still early enough that the throat is tender and achy with each swallow and the soreness has not yet disappeared, and yet late enough that the congestion and sneezes and coughs have surely begun to take hold.

Elisaveta, at least, had the good grace to look contrite when the fit persisted, though she did not move from her perch. “Sorry for getting you sick. I’m sure this isn’t the way you wanted to be spending your break.”

“It’s better than being sick and alone at school,” Anatoly croaked out amidst a break in the coughs, flopping his hand around on his night table in search of his glass of water. His fingers found two onion halves before they found the glass, and he groaned. “I think.”

“Don’t think you know everything just because you’re studying to be a little doctor now.”

“Ugh,” he groaned again, into the glass as he drank, “you sound just like her. Hehh’ehh’KSSHHH!” He managed to catch the sneeze in his shoulder, and not to drop the glass in the process.

Elisaveta’s voice turned serious and soft, if a bit fond. “She misses you, you know.” Her gaze was downward, at the mouse-chewed holes in the floorboard. “A lot. And she wishes you’d visit more.”

“I’m half an hour away by train,” Anatoly said. “And I do visit! I have to study sometimes, you know.”

“I know!” Elisaveta held up her hands, palms facing him. “Her words, not mine. I happen to think you’re a perfect distance away. Far enough that you stay out of my hair, give me some room to breathe, but not so far that I don’t ever see you. That I can’t come say ‘hello’ if I want.”

Anatoly rolled his eyes. “You’ve never done that, Liza.”

“But I have the option,” she said, and the words probably came out more earnestly than intended. “I might surprise you one day.”

Again, Anatoly broke the tender moment with a sniffle, then a hitching breath. “Ihhh’HEH’ISSHHH! Ahh’KTSCHHHH!”

“Get some sleep.” Elisaveta hopped off the windowsill, going to the night table and fussing at its arrangement. “The onion isn’t close enough.”

Anatoly slapped her hand away as she tried to place the vegetable next to his pillow. “The onion is far closer than it needs to be, actually.” He put it back on the table, as close to the corner as it could be without falling off. “Thank you.”

“Look, when I had this I slept with them in a towel on my chest, and I was better in two days.”

“And yet you still got me sick, so I don’t think you were as ‘better’ as you think you were.”

Elisaveta shrugged, pulling the curtains closed before slipping back through the door. “Whatever you say, Doctor-in-Training.”

Anatoly burrowed back beneath his covers and fell asleep in minutes. Much to his joy, three days later he felt almost as good as new without having to put a single onion on his chest, but his mother and sister assured him that had he done so, he could have reduced his recovery time by at least a day.

#i have so much more going overarching-plotwise for these characters in my head but will it ever be written?#who knows #in any case i keep hinting at that stuff in these lil snippets #ocs: anatoly #sicktember 2022 #sicktember day 9 #the world needs so much more historic snz fic #my writing #snzfic #sickfic

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