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fallinforerling · 10 months

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if u take requests can u please do one about reader taking care of erlings injury but at firs he is like it doesn't hurt and then just turns into a baby like he wants you to take care of him(ik its basic scenario but..)

big baby | erling haaland

ೃ⁀➷ erling’s masterlist

ೃ⁀➷ erling’s taglist

ೃ⁀➷ masterlist

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Day 1

“What did the doctor say? Is it serious?” You jumped from your spot on the sofa, the anxiety leaving your body as soon as you saw your boyfriend walking through the apartment door, apparently safe and sound. “Are you in pain?”

You took his gym bag from his shoulder, trying to do whatever you could to help with his injury, even though you had no idea what a groin injury could possibly mean, outside of the basics you found on Google.

“I’m okay, really. It isn’t that bad, babe. I’ll be brand-new in a couple of days, you’ll see.” Erling’s blank expression did nothing to convince you; his stiff posture gave away that he was surely in some type of pain, despite his best efforts to make it seem like he wasn’t. He was such a bad liar.

“Are you sure?” You raised an eyebrow when he just nodded, walking to the sofa like nothing had happened. “I don’t have any problem helping you around. We don’t want your injury to get worse.”

“I’m sure, I’m sure. It’s going to be fine, I promise.” You were still hesitant to believe him, but for the sake of his pride, the best you could do was nod along and let him play tough until it was too much to handle. You hated when he was so stubborn. “But if you don’t mind, honey... Can you please grab me some water?”

“Sure, no problem.”

Just when you got out of the living room, did he relax his muscles, having to grind his teeth to prevent the pained sound he wanted to let out.

This was going to be a long week.

Day 7

“Babe?!” You heard the scream coming from the other room, startling you just enough to make you drop the wooden spoon.

“Yeah?!” You shouted back, picking the spoon, glad that you were only stirring some vegetables and not chopping them.

“Can you come… Pleaaaaase?”

You sighed, smiling to your inner self as you walked to the room, where Erling was most likely still in bed, despite his own efforts of acting normal these past days. As you stood in the doorframe, you giggled, taking in the vision you had in front of you: your giant boyfriend, covered from head to toe on your softest covers, his face peeking from the fabric as he looked at you from the bed with tired eyes. He was so cute.

“What’s up, big guy? Do you want something?”

He stayed silent as you approached the bed, sitting beside him with a tiny grin, not being able to hide how funny the whole situation was.

“Are you making chicken and vegetables?”

“Yes, yes I am.” You bit your lip, noticing how his eyes lighten up. “I’m also making soup.”

“Really?” Oh, he was really excited for that food.

You called it “The basic food plates for a sick Erling”— There wasn’t anything in the world that he loved more than chicken, vegetables, rice and soup when he was slightly sick. He didn’t need much to ask for it; even his bruised foot from a couple of months ago had you constantly cooking until he was good to be back on the pitch.

Now? It was the third day in a row that he asked for chicken and soup.

“Can you come and cuddle with me?” His voice was so soft, it almost melted you right on the spot. “I miss you.”

“Ow, baby. I miss you too.” You leaned in, kissing his nose. “But I’ve gotta go and finish dinner or it’ll burn.”

“But you can come back and cuddle right after finishing, right?”

“Yes, I guess I can do that.” You fixed the covers so his neck was under them, making you all soft inside at the sight of his puffy face from the long nap he was surely taking and his big eyes asking for cuddles. “I can never say no to those big eyes of yours.” You kissed him again before getting up, knowing that if you stayed longer, he’d find a way to take you under the covers.

“I give you twenty minutes or I’ll start screaming.”

“You’re so dramatic.” You laughed, already leaving the room. “Like a big, twenty-three year old, baby!”

“But I’m your baby, don’t forget that!” You heard him scream back, making you laugh even louder as you came back to the kitchen.

Ah, you loved that man so much. It was probably bad to baby him so much… But oh well.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆·˚ ༘ * ERLING’S TAGLIST —

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tinyundercover · 1 month

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pepper & felix

part two

In this universe, when a person turns 21, they gain the ability to communicate with their soulmate telepathically. For the borrower Pepper, this turns out to be quite a shock. word count: 1.5k

Pepper sat on top of the cabinet, legs crossed underneath him. Up here, perched at the very edge, Pepper could see the entire kitchen.

The human had returned from class about an hour ago, and was now moving around the kitchen, making dinner. The sight of the human chopping up vegetables with a massive knife three times Pepper’s size was unsettling, but the borrower was comforted by the safety of the high cabinet.

Quiet music played from the human’s phone, down on the counter, while the human hummed along. He seemed practically harmless from here.

Pepper swallowed, thinking of his soulmate, who hadn’t contacted him since their strange ordeal this morning. The knowledge that he was connected somehow to a human made him shudder… that this human could one day figure out who he was— what he was…

“This sucks,” Pepper mumbled under his breath, quiet so that the human below didn’t hear.

He had spent his entire day pacing around his room, unable to focus on his tasks. All he could think about was humans and their freakishly giant hands. He knew that they were dangerous; that knowledge had been instilled in him since he was two years old. But were borrowers and humans similar enough that they could be soulmates? Was there a human out there that wasn’t too terrifying or selfish to actually love a borrower?

With nothing else to focus on, Pepper chose to climb up to the top of the cabinet so that he could spy on the closest human to him. Pepper had lived here for a little over a year, but he didn’t know much about this human, since he spent so much of his time avoiding him. His entire schedule revolved around the human’s.

Pepper stretched his arms above his head absentmindedly as the human scraped the vegetables into a bowl. His stomach growled softly, and he tensed— but it was far too quiet for the human to hear.

Pepper hadn’t had a real vegetable in ages. Most of them were hard to store for long periods of time, so he never really bothered. He’d never been picky about the food he put in his body, as long as he stayed alive.

The human showed terrifying amounts of strengths as he picked up knives and cutting boards with ease, and Pepper tried to imagine actually interacting with a human. The mere thought of a hand closing around him made him shut the idea down entirely.

Thirty minutes later, as the human was sitting down to eat dinner, Pepper stood up and turned around. His mind continued to wander even as he snuck into the walls.

After a moment's hesitation, he interlocked his fingers and held them against his chest. “Hello?”

It took a few moments, but eventually a voice entered his mind. “Hey!”

Pepper swallowed. It was only a voice, but the fact that he was being acknowledged by a human still made him shudder.

“How was your day?” Pepper asked carefully, leaning against a wooden beam. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine that he was talking to another borrower.

“Oh, it was alright. Classes were a little boring. But me and some of my theater friends signed up for an audition next week, so that’s pretty exciting. How was yours?”

Pepper furrowed his brow. He vaguely understood what most of those words meant, but a few stumped him, like “theater” and “audition.” “That sounds exciting,” he responded, wondering what humans actually did outside of their apartments. “I…”

Fuck. What was he supposed to say?

“I’ve been making some clothes,” he said honestly, shifting on his feet. “I’ve been sort of stressed, and it helps.”

“Oh no, why are you stressed?” His soulmate sounded genuinely concerned. Pepper wasn’t sure how to explain to this human that it was him.

“Oh, you know… just… the whole ‘soulmates’ thing is new to me.” He swallowed hard.

There was a pause. “Yeah, I understand. I didn’t really date much in high school or anything. It’s definitely strange to have this mind connection with you, since we don’t really know each other, but… you just feel special to me. I wish I could know your name.”

Pepper found himself on the ground, with his back against the wall. He rested his head back and exhaled. “Right. It’s… strange.” He tried to picture how tall his soulmate was, if he would tower over him. Who was he kidding, of course he would. “What do you… look like?”

“Oh, well— I’m 5’10”, I’m blonde, and I have blue eyes. My friend says that I look like a ghost sometimes.” His soulmate had a significantly brighter tone when he responded. “What about you? What do you look like?”

Pepper tried to imagine a 5’10” ghost standing over him, and his stomach twisted, both in anxiety and in amusement. “I have black hair,” he said. He hadn’t seen his face in a mirror in ages, but he was fairly certain what his features looked like. “My eyes are… gray. I don’t know how tall I am exactly, but, um, you’re definitely taller than me.”

It was nice not having to lie.

“You sound handsome,” his soulmate said jokingly. The corner of Pepper’s lips twitched into a smile. “It was nice hearing from you— I have to eat dinner now, but I can talk to you later?”

To Pepper’s surprise, he was disappointed. He nodded at nobody. “Yeah, of course, no worries. Talk to you later.”

——

The salad bowl clinked as Felix set it beside the sink, and he stepped back to brush his hands off. He normally cleaned his dishes immediately as he hated leaving dirty dishes out, but he had some homework to finish up, and then he needed to figure out what song to use for his audition. The dishes could wait.

As he retreated to his couch, opening up his laptop and setting it on his knees, he thought briefly of his soulmate. After their strange conversation this morning, he had spent the day worrying, but talking to him briefly before dinner had alleviated his fears. His soulmate seemed fine, just… a bit stressed.

He typed absentmindedly. He pictured a black-haired, gray-eyed man, sitting with him.

Something clattered in the kitchen, and Felix snapped his head up. His living space was essentially one large room, but his kitchen was a small subsection which was partially out of his line of sight from his couch. “Hello?” He asked warily, knowing full well nobody would respond.

He set his laptop on the couch and walked to the kitchen in a few short strides. His salad bowl was right where he left it, besides the sink, but a fork had been knocked out of his bowl and had fallen to the floor somehow. Huh.

Glancing around the kitchen, he scooped the fork up from the floor, dropping it in the sink. After a moment he picked up the salad bowl and set to work scraping the remaining pieces of spinach into the trash. He might as well clean up while he was here.

A soft voice entered his mind as he was rinsing the bowl out in the sink. “Hey, hi. What are you up to?”

Felix’s hands were full, and he unfortunately couldn’t respond, even if he wanted to. Just as he was about to dry his hands off, the voice continued. “You’re probably busy, no worries. I hope you don’t mind if I just ramble a little. I’m kind of panicking right now and I just need to calm down and the best way to do that is focus on you and take my mind off of things, I think.”

Felix’s soulmate seemed to get himself into a lot of stressful situations. The human raised his eyebrows thoughtfully.

“So, um, I’ve been working on this jacket. I want to make it with some extra pockets— big ones— so that I can carry more stuff. I only have the main torso part done, and I need to make the sleeves. It’s actually fun. I love sewing.”

Listening to his soulmate ramble was actually pleasant. Felix’s mouth quirked into a smile, and as he went to set the clean salad bowl into a cabinet, his hand slipped on it.

“I think— FUCK!”

Amazingly, Felix’s soulmate yelled in his mind just as the bowl hit the counter, shattering in half with an echoing crack. Both Felix and the voice in his mind went silent, and the human stepped back in surprise, staring at the broken glass. “Ugh, of course,” he grumbled, searching to find cleaning supplies.

It was only a few seconds later did he realize that his soulmate had gone quiet. He took a moment to press his hands against his chest. “Hey, everything okay?”

A long, long pause. “Yeah, yeah, it’s fine, everything’s fine! Sorry. Anyways, I’m using blue fabric for my jacket…”

Felix couldn’t brush the uneasy feeling away as he cleaned up the broken bowl. He could have sworn his soulmate’s shout had been much clearer than his other words. And it almost seemed to have been in response to the bowl shattering. But… that would be impossible. He was completely alone in his apartment.

Of course, he couldn’t see the small borrower concealed behind a mug barely two feet away, clutching a piece of spinach to his chest.

thank you for reading!! i appreciate the kind words and reposts :))

#g/t #gt #gt writing #g/t writing #giant/tiny

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sillypiratelife · 3 months

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More funny/cute moments from the fake prince Zoro au but this time with the search team:

Luffy finds a giant bug he can sit in, much to Sanji and Nami's dismay. He later insisted on carrying it like a backpack.

There's a moment when he tries to hide the bug under his straw hat. It's Luffy with the giant bug very visibly over his head and the bug wearing the hat.

Luffy's attempt to climb the mountain by extending his arm as long as he can while Chopper begs him to stop because the rocks will cut him AND poison him, probably.

Honestly Luffy has no business being such a menace, but that's not weird for him.

Anyway he eats a bug that slightly drugs him and thinks he's melting, so Sanji has to pick him like he's picking a jelly man from the ground. He leaves Luffy with Nami when it's time to report to the other team, ending with Nami manipulating Luffy to believe he is no longer in risk of melting thanks to her "witch powers / weather control".

"I should have been the prince 😩", "did you really want ZORO with us in this forest? 🤨"

Sanji with his heart eyes for Nami finding comfort in the fact he still likes girls a great deal, thank you very much, all be blessed by the sight of Nami's body.

Sanji doesn't know how to stop hiding his real feelings from Nami, because in his mind he's betraying all women by liking boys. It leads to a post-adventure talk once they are back in the Merry.

Nami is really gentle with Sanji. She wishes she had someone to talk and gush about when she found out she liked girls, but she was too busy trying to survive Arlong and she had no friends, only Nojiko and she was far far away at the time.

That scene of Sanji hiding his face in Nami's neck while he slightly panics. She holds him in silence, knowing there's a lot Sanji has to figure out for himself and she can only be there for him as it happens.

That night in the Merry Nami stays with Sanji in the kitchen. He cooks and she sketches the map of the island they just left and a new map of Skypiea.

But back at the forest.

Nami, Luffy and Sanji getting perfectly camouflaged in the autumn forest with their hair colors.

Nami curses the little folk so bad they get scared and Luffy proclaims in awe that she must be a real witch (he got hit, of course).

The absolute comedy of Sanji realizing he is screwed because everything reminds him of Zoro and Luffy clocking it so fast Sanji is scared for his life.

Luffy doesn't say a thing, but somehow every time Sanji is blushing because of Zoro, Luffy is right there looking at him with his big crazy unnerving yet reassuring smile and a glint in his eyes that crush Sanji's expectations of no one noticing anything.

THE HIDE AND SEEK INTENSE BATTLE. There's a tradition in Altus that says that if you're meant to find something, you'd be able to find it no matter what. The little folk honor it and separate the search team. Nami finds a treasure, Luffy finds an old rotten throne in the middle of nowhere and Sanji finds the cave where the royal family hides.

The whole combo of the oldest prince and Nami bargaining 'cause Luffy made a fortune in little folk currency (bugs) and the prince is trying very hard to save the economy of his kingdom from Nami.

The twin princesses help Sanji find the color changing vegetable that the witch of the farmer village uses for her special soup.

The Queen is really sick when they find her :((

The princes and princesses all worrying over their mother's health, refusing to leave her door, sitting on the ground all bundled in a giant mess. It hurts all the straw hats to see it and they try to comfort the royal family as much as they can.

Luffy distracts the girls talking about bugs. Sanji cooks for everyone. Nami brags about how talented Chopper is.

THEM AT THE BALL.

Luffy tries to convince a whole orchestra to join the ship. A whole. Orchestra.

Sanji dances soooo much with soooo many people. That man does miracles with his feet and he's there to show off.

Nami learning from the King how to cheat in new card games.

#shan blogs about one piece!#fake prince!zoro au #fake prince!zoro #black leg sanji #monkey d. luffy #zosan #one piece nami #sillypiratelife aus #sillypiratelife headcanons

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amandacanwrite · 5 months

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Ole Adelaide ☼ The Hallowed Wilds ☼ Chapter Seven

POV ;; Ezra ☽ 11 y.o.

Summary ;; Ezra Visits an old woman in the village per his mother's request.

Warnings ;; n/a

Author Note ;; If you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging! It really helps me out when it comes to getting more eyes on this story that means so much to me. Thank you!

I couldn’t stomach the idea of seeing Aurelia for a while after the body in the patch of morning glories. It was too far of a leap to make; the Aurelia I thought I knew and the one that was fine with some poor old drunk getting strangled to death by vines of weeds.

Every time I thought of her doll-like skin and her sunflower eyes, my guts twisted into knots, and I wanted to scowl.

There were still mornings that I’d wake up and hear that low whistle of the forests. I would look out my window across the giant fields of rye that looks like a stream of gold in the grey and white winter. My mouth would taste like medicine and brandy all day long on those days.

Ma was getting irate with my sour mood and started sending me out on errands instead of letting me play with the other kids in town. I think she thought some ornery neighbor boy was teaching me bad manners.

Truth be told I didn’t know why I was in such a bad mood all the time. As the days started to pass, I didn’t feel so bad about the man Aurelia had shown me in The Wilds—especially not when wanted posters started showing up in Dewsbury. The man was a murderer and a thief, just as Aurelia had said. It seemed The Wilds knew what they were about after all.

I still couldn’t bring myself to go back, though. Not when every time I thought about it, I remembered shouting at Aurelia that I wasn’t like her.

A fortnight after the morning glories, Ma sent me on a longer errand. She wanted me to go a couple miles up the road to the Ole Adelaide’s house to pick up some special teas for her midwifery.

It’d been a long while since I’d seen Ole Adelaide. When I was little I was afraid of her. All the older kids in Dewsbury said she was one of the witches from The Wilds and that she liked to cook kids up in her oven and eat them in pot pies.

After knowing one of the real witches for a few months, though, the idea of Ole Adelaide’s crinkled fingers and milky eyes didn’t seem so threatening anymore. I knew now that the witches in the forest never left, anyway.

It was a tough trek. The woman lived far off the beaten path and didn’t have a son or husband to help her tend her land, so the weeds and trees got craggy and hard to navigate. I thought I’d offer to come and help her with it when the bitterness of the winter started to give way to the spring.

It took me a couple of hours to get there with the slippery packed ice and the cumbersome vegetation. I was sweating under my coat as I climbed up her decaying wooden steps and knocked on the door. I heard the creaking of her steps as she walked through the house and she opened the door.

She was much kinder looking than I remembered, and so much smaller than I remembered too. I counted the years it’d been since I’d been here with Ma or Pa and realized that I must have been five or six the last time. My memories of her were of an angular, knobby, unsettling looking woman with skin that barely covered her decrepit bones. I’d realized how wrong those memories were as I looked at the woman who stood before me now.

Her eyes were milkier than I remembered, but she had a pleasant softness to her that reminded my of my own grammy. She had a pleasant button nose above a thin smile and full cheeks that sagged a bit. Her shoulders were hunched with age, probably from all the gardening she’d done her whole life, but the rest of her was all roundness and worn—like Pa’s well-loved chair at home.

“Hello there,” she said in a fragile warble.

I took my cap off before speaking, because that’s how gentlemen are supposed to act.

“Hello, Miss Adelaide. My mama says you have some special teas for her midwifing.”

“Yes, I do, come on in, son. Can you help me get around—these old eyes aren’t good for much anymore.”

“Yes ma’am,” I said, using the manners my mama always taught me.

I shoved my hat into my trouser pocket and I stepped past the threshold. I offered the old woman my arm. She snaked hers around my own and took hold of my hand. Her skin felt like softest silk—like Aurelia’s shawl she sometimes wore.

“It’s off in the kitchen,” Adelaide told me. “I think off this way.” She pointed to the left and I shored up my shoulder to support more of her weight as we walked. She felt like she might topple over at any moment.

I walked with her into her tiny kitchen. An entire wall was taken up with tiny drawers like they had at the clinic down the hill in the city. Each one was labeled with an ancient, yellowing slip of paper.

Yarrow, mayapple root, basil, St. John’s wort, so many varieties of mint, clary sage, on and on and on the labels went.

“We need some mugwort, and some penny-royal, parsley too—your mother said she had some but just in case.” the old woman said. “Should be up and across the top somewhere. Do you read?”

“Yes’m,” I said as I led her along.

I found the herbs in question and helped Old Adelaide into a chair while I collected them. She instructed me in how to wrap them up so that they didn’t get damp in the winter air outside and after tying some string around them I tucked them into my coat’s inside pocket.

“Anything else, Miss Adelaide?”

“Can you sit for a spell?”

“Yes’m,” I said.

I didn’t really want to sit with her, but I figured she must be lonesome up here with no one to help her or talk to her. I could stay for at least a little while. I sat at the small dining table with her in the kitchen and fiddled with my hands.

“So, little Ezra, tell me what bothers you,” she said with that ever-present smile.

I dropped my mouth open and stared at her stupidly for a moment before remembering myself.

“I’m not bothered, Miss Adelaide,” I said.

“Sure, you are. Some matter of the heart, a bit of sourness.”

“What’d Ma say? She complain about my temper to you?” I asked a bit defensively, “I told her I’d work on fixing my face. You don’t have to lecture me about it.”

“No, no, no. I just have a sense for these things my boy—your mama didn’t say anything against you.”

Ole Adelaide rose to her feet and put a kettle on and started to put together a pot of some mystery collection of herbs. I started to feel a bit skeptical about drinking or eating anything she gave me. Her ‘sense’ of me was making me feel a little unsettled.

It made me think of Aurelia—how she could always read things about me like she was reading a passage in a book.

My mouth screwed and I looked away from the old woman.

“There it is—that’s what I sensed earlier.”

“I’m fine,” I snapped.

She looked sidelong at me with those milky eyes. I shrank from my own rudeness. Mama would have whooped me if she heard me talk to an elder that way.

“Pardon my tone, Ma’am,” I said.

“No, no. Forgive this old woman for prying,” she said, still smiling. “I just don’t like to see people unhappy. I so rarely have a chance to help anyone these days, so I get a little overzealous.”

I shrank a bit more in my chair, guilt settling in fully.

“It’s hard to explain without getting myself into big trouble,” I said.

“I see,” she said. “Well you know that no one comes up this way to ask me about much. In the past year or so I’ve only seen your ma and pa and maybe a few of the odd travelers.”

“My parents are the ones I’m worried about, Miss,” I grumbled.

“Of course, of course,” she said.

Quiet fell as she waited for the kettle to boil. I watched quietly as she smeared some butter on a couple of fluffy biscuits and covered them in dark purple preserves. I wondered if it was blackberry or mulberry. My heart squeezed remembering the time that Aurelia and I found a bush so covered in mulberries that we could barely see the leaves and ate them until our bellies were full.

“Do you really promise not to tell anyone?”

I think I was more surprised by my words than she was. She turned and set the plate of biscuits on the table, and I realized she’d never promised that at all. Even so, she still smiled at me and nodded.

“Of course. I promise, Ezra,” she said.

She turned to pour our tea and I nervously spun one of the biscuits on the plate.

“I’ve been going into The Wilds—I made a friend there.”

Adelaide didn’t pause, didn’t balk. She didn’t yell or even falter as put a few spoons of sugar in our tea and squeezed a lemon into them, so I continued.

“H-Her name is Aurelia. She’s one of the witches. And I’ve been going to play with her almost all winter. We even have the same birthday.”

“That sounds wonderful,” she said as she brought the teas over and set them down, sipping from hers.

“It was—” I said. “B-But something happened the last time I went, and I realized that we’re just…too different. Too different to stay friends.”

Adelaide nodded quietly as she set her cup down on her saucer.

“Did she say something cruel to you?” she asked.

“No.”

“Did she try to hurt you?”

“No, of course not!” I scrambled. “Actually the first time I went in I broke my arm and she healed it. Healed it like it never even happened.”

I looked down at my hand still on the biscuit and finally took a bite. My throat tightened as I chewed. It was mulberry. I realized I wanted to bring some preserves for Aurelia to try.

“The truth is,” I confessed. “I was mean to her. I felt like she didn’t care about something awful that happened and I…”

I tried to find words for what I felt when we buried the drunkard in the forest. Or maybe it was the feeling when she said the forest listened to me like it listens to her. Or should I talk about what I felt when I learned the dead man had been a killer.

It was so jumbled and messy—these were all so much bigger feelings than I’d ever felt before. It wasn’t the same anger when I got into a fistfight with one of the neighbor boys over a toy or got mad when Ma sent me to bed with no supper.

“Did it frighten you?” she asked.

The simplicity of the question struck me like a slap.

All at once I felt so relieved and so stupid.

That was what it was. It was fear. Fear that Aurelia was the monster that the rest of the world thought she was. Fear that if she found me dead in the forest like that she wouldn’t care—just shrug and leave me for the birds to pick at while my Ma and Pa wondered where I went for the rest of their lives. I was afraid I didn’t know her like I thought I had.

“Yeah,” was all I could manage to say.

Ole Adelaide smiled and nodded.

“Fear is a very destructive thing, you know. It’s the opposite of love.”

“I thought hate was the opposite of love,” I said.

“I suppose that’s true, but where does hatred come from? Most of the time it’s a lack of understanding—a refusal to learn because we’re afraid to let go of some idea we have in our head. Something we’ve learned from our friends or our family.”

I thought of the morning glories and the thing Aurelia said to me that filled me with so much anger.

The forest listened to you, it bent to your will. Like it does for me.

My eyes burned and I rubbed at one of them.

“I don’t hate Aurelia.” I sniffed. “I love her. I think she’s wonderful and beautiful. She’s like a princess out of a fairytale.”

So why did her telling me that I was like her scare me so much? Why was I so torn up by the idea that I could be even a fraction as magical as she was? I felt like such a little boy, crying into my food.

Even not looking at Ole Adelaide I could hear the smile in her voice as she reached over and pet my hair.

“The people we love are the most likely to scare us, because they’re the ones that know us the best and the ones that are most important to us,” she told me. “But that love grows when we look past that fear and make ourselves bigger than it. And love is what builds homes and families and friendships, sweet boy.”

Even though her words made me feel better, I only cried more. The old woman was quiet as I sat and sobbed there. She didn’t tell me to toughen up like gramps always used to, only pet my hair and let me get it all out.

When I was done, I could feel my eyes were puffy and swollen. I was still sniffling as I looked up at her. She only gave me a warm smile and swiped the lingering wetness off my face with her silky thumbs.

“Better?” she asked.

I sniffed and nodded, using the rough fabric of my sleeve to dry off the rest of my face.

“I’m sorry for crying,” I said.

“It’s the most natural thing in the world to cry over a friend you love,” she said. “Now eat up and drink your tea. And then I’ll read your tea leaves for you,” she said.

“My tea leaves?” I asked. “Like—fortune telling?”

She nodded, sipping at her own tea.

“Well, you gave me a secret of yours. It wouldn’t do for me not to return the favor, would it?” she said with a wink.

My mouth dropped open, and I looked back up at all the tiny drawers of dried herbs and it was as if my eyes saw more than they had when I first came into the unassuming little cottage.

Hanging bundles and swags of drying herbs, candles of all kinds of different colors, garlands of dried oranges. A moth-wing shawl hanging from a hook on the wall, one just like Aurelia’s.

I looked back to Ole Adelaide and saw someone new there.

She was still old, but her frailty was gone.

In front of me sat a straight-backed woman with long, waving, cornsilk hair. Her sagging features had receded, as if she’d turned back the clock on her life. I looked at her beautiful face and she looked as if she could be no older than Mama. I traced her pretty smile lines to the lines of her eyes and met them.

And was greeted by sunflowers.

Just like my Aurelia.

☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼

@eldritchx

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If you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging it! It really helps out with getting more eyes on the story. :)

#writing community #writing #authors #my writing #writers on tumblr #book quotes #pirate book #romantasy #historical fantasy #writeblr #the hallowed wilds #chapter 6 #my wrtitng #writing update #fanfic writing #fic writing #snippet

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thewanderinglunarian · 2 years

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Waiting

To: Lale @childofblackmaria

@onepiece-reader-exchange

A/N: Lale, my dear, my idol, I hope you like this piece I wrote. I apologize, my writing skills are a bit rusty. I hope that one day I'll be able to write like you and my other muses (Doe, Franky, Bas, Maxx, and others.). Anyway, I'll stop rambling. Here you go <3

wc-1110

Character: Rayleigh

She/Her-No Pronouns

You always knew Rayleigh would be gone for months on end; selling himself at the human auction every time he got himself into a tight spot when gambling, or, heck, just for fun, training that Strawhat kid, and more often than the rest, evading Marines, but this time, just this one time, you hoped that he would remember what today was. It was your anniversary and you had been reminding him day after day before he went off on another one of his adventures. That was 3 months ago.

You sighed as you remembered exactly what you had told him the day he left, “Y-you know, our anniversary is coming up. Will you be back by then?” you asked, gazing at him with desperate eyes, almost pleading with him to return promptly. He smiled down at you and patted your head, ruffling your hair before running his hand over your cheek and down to your chin, lightly lifting it, placing a soft kiss on your soft lips. He turned to leave, never giving you a direct answer.

That was three whole months ago. You continued going about your life, everyday hoping that it would be the day that Rayleigh returned to you. You and Rayleigh had made your home on the outskirts of Sabaody, in a remote area hardly anyone knew about, a place that was safe for you and a place Rayleigh could lay low when need be. It was a quaint little stone home, tucked away under giant mangrove roots, hidden away from wandering eyes. Rayleigh had built it himself for the two of you. To anyone else, the home wasn’t anything special, but to you, it was perfect, everything you had ever dreamed of, all the way down to the thatched roof, to the dense, emerald green clumps of moss growing freely up the sided of the gray stone exterior, it gave it enchanted look, almost that of something from a fairy tale.

However, today was he day, the day you had been so looking forward to, dropping hints to Rayleigh a million times, but you'd seen no sign of him yet. 'Well, the days just started' you mumbled to yourself as you began to step out of the door, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. You had some errands to run today, you had a big meal planned, even if you didn't know if Rayleigh was going to show up not, but you could not let yourself think that way. You were determined to have a good day and assume, even if you were pushing it, that he was going to somehow remember.

You put on an air of false positivity as you stepped out and made your way to the shopping district. You drew in a deep breath, taking in the scent of the sea mixed with the essence of all the Yarukiman Mangroves and the uniquely woody, sticky, resin aroma they emitted. Sunlight trickled down through the mangroves, a light breeze gently blew, making strands of your (h/c) hair dance and swirled around the mangrove resin bubbles high in the air. The weather was perfect, you still couldn't believe that you actually lived here. It felt like something out of a dream, well, of course the only thing missing at the moment was Rayleigh.

You kept your head up not wanting doubt to creep in and ruin your picturesque day. You made your way through the crowds, dodging the places that Celestial Dragons were known to visit. An array of produce stalls lined the street, there were so many vibrant colors, so many fruits and vegetables to pick from, some you recognized right off but some you'd never seen before. You clutched your purse as you browsed them all, feeling almost overwhelmed. You quickly collected everything you needed and leisurely walked back to home.

You arrived home, lugging the sack of fresh produce through the door, you hadn't realized how tired you were or how heavy the bag was. You plopped the sack down on the table. Still no sign of Rayleigh. You sighed, looking at the clock. It was nearly 6pm, the setting sun cast its rays through the kitchen window. You weren't going to give up on him just yet. 'Maybe he'll show, there's still some light outside', you said though a fake smile, trying to hold back tears. 'No, I can't think that way. He'll be here.' You wiped your eyes on the back of your hand and started preparing the meal you had been planning for ages. It was the same meal you and Rayleigh shared the first time you went out. You diligently chopped the vegetables, added them to the pan and stirred them until they were perfect. Adding the finishing touches, you plated the meal, poured two glasses of wine, and set the table for both of you.

8pm and still no sign of him. Slipping into a new outfit, one you had picked out months ago for this exact occasion, you sauntered over to the couch. Another hour passed, the food was getting cold and you were getting tired. Your eyes were as heavy as stone, you could barely keep them open. You heard the door slam shut as you opened your eyes, you gazed sleepily over at the clock, 11pm.

'I see you didn't wait up for me.' a voice said in a soft, almost whispering, carefree voice. You looked up and saw your lover, Rayleigh, gazing down at you with dark eyes through his round glasses. 'All of this for me?' He chuckled. 'Ray!' You jumped off the couch and threw your arms around him, hugging him as if you'd never let him go again. You broke the hug and looked at him, his clothes were ragged and he looked exhausted. 'I have something for you," he said taking a small pouch out of his pocket and placing it in your hand. 'Y-you remembered?' You choked out, tears welling up in your eyes. 'Of course I did, do you think I'd forget the anniversary of the best day of my life?' He grinned, planting a kiss on your forehead. You opened the pouch to find a gorgeous golden necklace, embedded with ornate gems and diamonds. You began to cry, happy tears, of course, as Rayleigh wiped them away. You laughed softly in between tears, 'Silvers Rayleigh, I don't know whether to slap you or kiss you! You had me waiting and worrying all day!' 'I think you should kiss me.' He replied, grinning. You kissed him, holding him in your embrace, never wanting to let that wonderful man go. All was well.

#onepiecereaderexchange #one piece #rayleigh x reader #silvers rayleigh #rayleigh x you #my brain is mush now #sleepytime #sleepy time #must recharge braincells

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madamescarlette · 1 year

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I wanted to go through and do an entire written out version of this tag, so here 'tis! Would love to see your responses too if you want to join in <3

(Fair warning that is rather a long post so feel free to hit J on your keyboard to skip to the next thing on your dash with no hard feelings!)

share your favorite memory of this year.

GIRL just ONE?!? I don’t really pick out singular one all-time best memories from across the year, so I’ll give you a chain of really bright good ones instead:

My friends and I went to this conference in the spring that was almost entirely working professionals except for us, so when we first got there it was quite silly because we lowered the median age by a good five years. We got name badges and everything and one of my friends said it felt like summer camp because of that, and after setting up all of our things we escaped to go eat all the free breakfast food, and when I started taking selfies with my muffins everyone else had to do the same, and I felt joy so vivid it was like an ember burning in my stomach.

There was one day this past November where after one of my meetings I was walking my friend over to the bus stop, and we emerged from the campus library for the first time in four hours, and I was trudging along under the slowly changing saplings that line the avenue beside our library and I looked up at the bright blue sky, and remarked on how blue it was. My friend looked up too, and she started fondly laughing, and she told me it was very indicative of my personality that ten minutes before we’d been grousing about class, but I was still noticing how lovely the sky was. It was luminescent and very good to be known so much.

I’ve been struggling with bitterness over a particular situation for the past few years, the kind of bitterness that’s mostly grief because I miss who I was before it all happened to me, and for a long, long while I couldn’t remember what had been so good that I would risk anything, especially my own peace and stillness to be near this person. I hadn’t seen them in a while, but during this poster presentation session that all of my senior class does, I caught a glimpse of them again, and I can’t tell you how…simple and sweet it felt to simply admit that they were beautiful again. It sounds like a funny thing to be grateful for, but when your memory has twisted something into only being painful, it’s an incredibly lovely thing to be able to remember something good about it again. I guess it was kind of like absolving myself from the past, to know there was a reason why I reached out and why I paid the price, that these things don’t necessarily need to be worth it but it was something good that I at least tried. And I will stop being cryptic and leave it there. It was such an answer to my prayers and I will never stop being thankful for it.

Over the summer, there was one day where my grandmother pulled out these GIANT shrimp that she had had hidden away in her freezer, and asked my mom to figure out something to do with them. My mom landed on making gumbo, and it became a quest for the entire household to make this one stew— my grandma kept pulling vegetables from all these hidden corners, my brother and I were sent out to find extra supplies, and afterwards when we all sat down and ate it together, the whole room was suffused in this gentle golden light of early summer evening, happy and content and revived by being near each other and keeping company in this full silence.

2. what was the highlight of your year?

I can’t lie to you and say that it was anything but my graduation! It was five strange twist-y wind-y years, but they are now settling like gems in the core of my being, and I am even now learning how to digest them all and convert them into what they’ve made me become. I’m very grateful, and very glad. It has meant so very much to me.

3. list the top five books you read this year.

In no particular order, just the ones that haunted me most are The Perilous Gard, Assassin’s Apprentice, Vespertine, Gaudy Night, and Magician’s Ward, with extra love to my reread of Goblin Emperor (always my beloved).

4. list the top five movies you watched this year.

Me, laughing nervously: haha don’t worry!! I’ve definitely watch five of those!!! (thankfully I have them written down otherwise I’d be LOST.)

The Batman, Gunpowder Milkshake, The Hundred-Foot Journey, The Thin Man, and let’s be real Sense & Sensibility (1995) which was a rewatch but I think I watched it no less than four times so it deserves a slot here for holding my hand so much.

5. list the top five tv series you binged this year.

THIS IS EVEN HARDER.

Probably…Blue Period (beloved to me), Extraordinary Attorney Woo (EVEN MORE BELOVED), the three seasons straight of The Nanny I watched in dark October/November, Ted Lasso, and most likely Wednesday once I’ve had time to sit with it. Extra shout-outs to the first seasons of Spy X Family and E.R. that I both watched and loved utterly.

6. what is the one new thing you discovered this year (could be a place/hobby/song etc)?

I finally!!! Learned to crochet!!! I’m so happy happy about it especially now that I have a little more time on my hands to actually make something with my hands! It makes me happy every time my eyes land on my hooks sitting on my desk.

7. top three albums that you played this year?

I want to also make a separate post on this (even though it will be useful to like…one person maybe) but: Who Cares? – Rex Orange County, PREP – Prep (yes ik they really had to reach for that one), and obviously Midnights – TS. (Special shout-out to Nurture – Porter Robinson which is holding my hand in this time)

8. your spotify wrapped #1 song

Everything Goes On – Porter Robinson, my dear sweet friend of a song that’s held onto me throughout the wavering and ravening of the horrors this year! It’s all about learning to grieve something before it leaves you but not clouding the happiness of it while it’s still here and I really have needed to hear that so much.

9. your spotify wrapped top artist

Taylor, who else?

10. your personal song of the year.

Tbh it is exactly the same as the one I’ve got, especially since I am usually very aware of the top song that I have because I repeat them so much, and this one helped me so very much. I think I’ll say another one that felt like it reached out and gripped me in its teeth and made me get up again was Thank Me Later – Sigrid.

11. what is an achievement that you are proud of this year?

In all honesty, in the past 24 months I’ve had to do more technical writing than I really knew I was getting in for, but there is something extremely satisfying in being able to drop 5 disparate pieces of work in my grandmother’s lap and go look what I did!!! One of them is 61 pages long oh my!

12. what are your goals for the next year?

I think…not to lose the peace and stillness that this year has given me, also on the flipside not to become too complacent and still be the person who reaches out and accomplishes something. Also as always to become a better daughter and sister and friend and colleague because it is always easy for me to slip in those things if I’m not watching and I want to be watchful.

And I think more than anything else, I want to enjoy this widening horizon before me. I’ve said before that I feel like I’ve been in a long tunnel for a long time, and even though I was always headed towards the end, I made friends with the conductors and other passengers, so getting out of it feels like something strange and mysterious to me. I want to make sure that I make the most of it, go rolling through the fields and lying under the trees and wading in the ponds, and that I always find my way back to gratitude for being alive, because I never want to lose that.

13. any three book releases you are excited for next year.

Bold of you to assume that I pay enough attention to figure out what books are being released when! No but really, a lot of the books I was following were…concluded this year so I don’t have as long of a list anymore.

From looking at a list on Goodreads I was finally able to cherry-pick some, so. I did enjoy Sorcery of Thorns (though my true love in Margaret Rogerson’s books is far outpaced by Vespertine) so I’m excited for The Mysteries of Thorn Manor in January. There also seems to be…an Inheritance Games sequel? For some reason? And by golly I’ll read whatever nonsense plot is going on with those folks if only because I’m rooting for Jameson to go…anywhere else but here. PLUS oh man there’s going to be a new Holly Black set in Elfhame and boy if I won’t read every second of THAT.

14. any three upcoming movies/tv series that you are excited for next year.

SPIDERVERSE SPIDERVERSE SPIDERVERSE plus I have been very charmed by what I’ve seen of the DND movie so far PLUS Dune Part II is on its waaaay if all goes well and you know I love a finale!

15. if you could change one thing about the past year what would it be?

I don’t tend to like talking about changing serious things, because for my life it always feels like I’m being critical of what I have, and I’m trying to always find something to rejoice over what I’m living through! Not that’s bad to regret, it’s just that that’s a very easy way for my own spirit to waste away over and get stuck in a loop of what-if’s. I guess I would have liked to have gone back to my short hair in the summer like I wanted to, because my hair when it gets long always ends up feeling like dead weight to me now.

16. did you manage to stick to your new year's resolutions this year?

I haven’t really been making proper new year’s resolutions that past few years, they’re more like new year’s promises and things I want to carry with me in the new year. In looking for what I had written down, I think I’ll just. post them in full because why not?

Things for the new year:

Be so much of a person that you cannot be anything else.

Make a patchwork quilt of the truths you learn from other people. Know that they will be with you from now on, and be glad, dear heart.

Live with the juxtaposition of being a gatherer and a witness and yourself, your own true self through and through and naught else but that.

(I feel compelled to mention, since the true self is kind of a discoursed concept bandied about around these parts, that me going into last year was like a shelled out half-version of me, so part of my arc was being revived and coming back into myself and feeling like EDEN in all caps again!)

In life, at times you have to hold something that is bigger than you are, bigger than what can be fathomed, and eventually you have to let it go, and the letting go is what makes you into the person you are.

It's good to be good at at least one thing. Even if it's only a multitude of little one things. Like muffins, or remembering stories or dates, or singing one song in particular, or telling jokes. It stifles the heart to believe there is nothing you can do because you can't do it well. Getting started is harder than the doing. When you have the momentum of it, everything gets far, far simpler.

Sometimes, you are not here to tell them what to do. You're here to find people, and to know them, really know them, and sometimes it's worth its weight in gold just to know you live in someone else's brain, and they're glad as anything to know it, so be brave and tell them you care for them.

You shouldn't grieve things while they're still happening. You just end up grieving then twice over. But you can say goodbye, which is different from grieving. It's more like blowing a kiss than it is wrapping your arms around it, and lighter because of that.

To be decisive is sometimes the same thing as being kind.

Never be so funny you lose the muscle ability of being kind. It's an action you have to renew every time, and it can stagnate, as all other muscles do.

17. do you have any new year's resolutions for the next year?

Not really! They’ll be more like the above when I get sentimental enough on the eve, and they don’t like knocking on the door any earlier, alas!

18. favorite meme of the year?

I cannae lie, I’m a simple girl and I thought the PS5 in your mind meme was thee silliest funniest bit ever. Truly like the Palpatine Kermit egging you on to do something but turned up to an eleven and I loved every second of it.

19. which month was the most fun this year?

Ohhhhh probably May because it was like the world was coming back into color and I could finally take a breath for the first time in ten months and I really needed that!!

20. if you could tell yourself something at the beginning of this year based on what you know right now, what would it be?

I cannae lie to you all, I was getting already so tired out already by the beginning of this year and constantly losing my faith in myself, so if I could tell myself anything, it’s simply this: The strength that you look for will very often rise to you when you need it, and so your stewardship of yourself often looks more like making sure that you are rested up enough to be able to find that strength than it is mustering up that strength beforehand. It’s also that you can face things even when they seem insurmountable beforehand, but when there are people around who love you pretty much anything is possible.

21. favorite viral trend of the year?

Well babes I don’t know if I can pick (it’s Dracula Daily) there were so many fun and cute things that we all did together (Dracula memes were my lifeblood) so it’s so hard for me to settle on any favorites (I bought a copy of the book just for this)

22. list any three new things you learned this year (could be recipes, a new skill, etc.)

I made bagels from scratch one time and it was magical! I’m getting better and better at informal presentations and even formal ones! Also it wasn’t purely in this year but I’ve started becoming even better and better at shortbread so now I am lowkey my family’s Shortbread Queen and I’m THRILLED.

23. how would you describe your year in a word?

Hmmmm….bountiful, I think? There was just so much of it everywhere in all directions and I was overwhelmed but so so grateful so often. Also, determining, just in the sense that I think there was a lot that I went through that kind of cast my personality in a mold and made me face things I never thought I could but I actually can and did! Also just— comforting.

I’ve always been an anxious person, and in some ways that will never change, but there’s been something about this year and the last that have made me settle down like I never have before. It feels exciting to me at times, thinking that I’m the oldest I’ve ever been, but at the same time I had the happiest time this year kind of…learning to let the parts of me that didn’t get to live so much in my previous years get to run around and scream and read and sing and laugh and play to their hearts content, and with all of that happening it’s become so comforting to me, just to exist.

I can’t control a lot of things, I can’t really shelter anyone like I used to think I was built to do, but in the end I can figure out how to comfort myself when my melancholia wants me to sit at the edge of the tub and sob my eyes out, and I’m getting better and better at talking myself down from that and when I succeed, I can do a better job at being a comfort to those around me. In a lot of ways, that’s what I’ve come to believe my calling is— to learn how to be a comfort to myself, and through that, being a comfort to those who are near me.

And that's all, folks! Tag me if you want to fill this out, too!!

#i should really start an about me tag #about eden #:D

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jennyjourneys · 2 years

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Arc 1 - Chapter 2: The Spider

Continuing her journey through the Candy Forest with the witch Westwind, Jenny tangles with the local wildlife — but not all is as it seems.

For days now I have been journeying through the enchanted Candy Forest, in the company of the mysterious witch Old Mother Westwind. Together we seek Westwind's old rival and fellow witch, Grandmother Ginger.

After three days eating nothing but sweets, we are growing desperate for healthier food, but vegetables are hard to come by in this place. Westwind has suggested hunting. We have just heard the distant yelping of a beast on the wind, and she is preparing to set out.

“Where are you going, dear?"

I wince. “Look… I'm only sort of a vegetarian,” I explain. “You cook some meat, some fish, I don't know… and fine, I'll eat it. It would be unhealthy not to under the circumstances. But… I don't do well with killing things. I don't want to be here for this.”

“We shall see,” says Westwind. “I'll be back soon. Then you can eat something. Trust in my cooking. I'm the best in the land.”

“Of course you are,” I say.

Westwind slings her pack over her shoulder and sets out into the forest, a white mist following her.

I sigh and slump down under a nearby tree, thinking about what led me here. I only came to this reality on a hunch. A dream. An echo of another life, telling me to find Grandmother Ginger. I don't even know what I'm supposed to do when I find her. It will probably become obvious when the time comes. But I ran off on everyone back home, with so little explanation. I hope this quest pays off.

Suddenly, I jolt from my daydream. I can hear the distant howls of a beast. Westwind is calling back. What should I do? Should I go see what she's up to? I don't know. I hear a shout, rushing wind. More beastly growls. Finally, I make up my mind and run in the direction of the howls.

I arrive. Westwind is lying on her back, with a large, sharp claw embedded in the center of her chest. Then I see a huge black shape — which can only be the thing that attacked her. A giant spider, black with purple stripes.

Without skipping a beat, I teleport a bucket of water into the spider's mouth. It splutters angrily and turns towards me. I leap into the air and kick it in its stubby neck. It crumbles to the ground.

I turn to Old Mother Westwind.

“Are you alright?” I ask.

But it's another voice that answers. The skittering, angry voice of the giant spider, picking itself up on wobbling legs after my kick.

“Stupid child,” says the spider. “Don't you see I am trying to help? Don't you know who I am?”

The spider's carapace folds in on itself, and suddenly I am staring at a spindly old woman in a purple-striped dress.

“Grandmother Ginger…” I breathe out, stunned.

“I’m not your Grandmother, child,” huffs the witch. “I’m your Aunt Ginger. Can’t you remember?”

And I could. Suddenly memories of a whole other lifetime came flooding back, messy and in complete disarray. The jagged life of this world's version of me. A young witch’s ward, who’d disappeared. Ginger's niece. It was her memories that had sent me here.

“You silly girl!” Ginger scolds. “I sent Westwind to bring you back. How in the Gobstopper’s name did you contrive to come back on your own and bring her into my forest instead?”

“I'm not the Jenny you remember,” I explain. “I'm, er, I’m not sure what happened to her. But I'm a version of her from a different plane of reality.”

Ginger growls. “There's no time for chit-chat. You can plainly see that Westwind's been attacked by something, can't you?”

“Yes, the spider...” I blink. “No, of course. The spider was you, Aunt Ginger. Then who…?”

“Something with vicious claws, as you can see. An ancient evil. One that all of us Witches of Sucria thought long extinguished.”

“It's no spider," rasps Westwind. "It's him.”

“Who?” I ask again.

“He's a witch as well,” she whispers.

“Tell me his name!”

A deep, hollow voice answers from behind me.

“You will know my name when I am the last mortal soul in the universe. Until then I do not reveal it.”

Slowly, I turn around.

Go to Arc 1 - Chapter 1 - The Witches of the Candy Forest

Go to Arc 1 - Chapter 3 - The Old Man of the Marshmallow

#Arc 1 #Jenny Everywhere #AI Dungeon #Grandmother Ginger #Old Mother Westwind

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spacepup2-0 · 5 months

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Chapter Two | New Body (1/2)

summary: Looks like the scale that Dakota bought was more than it seemed.

ao3 Link! to this chapter!

Last Chapter <-{}-> Next Chapter

Note- Had to cut this one into two parts because Tumblr wouldn't let me post the full thing.

The walk back home was peaceful as usual, spotting a few birds and squirrels going on with their day. To fill the quiet air, he started to hum a song to keep himself company while walking, his basket gently swaying. Stepping up onto the porch he stomps his foot to get the dirt off his boots before walking inside and slipping off his boots at the front door.

“I’m back!” Dakota shouted, walking to the kitchen to put down the basket of goods. While Dakota had never been the best at cooking, he was slowly learning by helping his mother in the kitchen. “Good, I've already cut up and marinated the rabbit.” she stated, while boiling the wine and waiting for the alcohol to evaporate. Dakota opened a cabinet and took out a pot to cook the vegetables in.

“I add the rabbit, wine, and vegetable broth now, right?” Dakota asked while holding the rabbit, ready to add it into the pot.

“Exactly,” Amelia said with a soft smile “Someday you may be as good as me!” she chuckled while watching Dakota add in the ingredients.

Dakota chuckled, “I wish! Your cooking will always be better than mines!” He said, placing the top on the pot.

“Now we’ll let it cook until it’s nice and tender.” Amelia explained, washing her hands in the sink and wiping it dry. Dakota hummed while he looked out at their field, it had gotten much smaller as his mother got older since his mother no longer had the energy as she used to take care of a bigger field and Dakota had a lot of chores since he had to go back and forth between the town and his home. He turned to look at his mother who was now sitting in her rocking chair while reading the newspaper.

“What do you think about Silfast taking over soon?” Dakota inquired, taking a seat on the camel bridge couch next to her rocking chair.

“I think it’s dumb,” Amelia complained “We don’t have a single thing here for them to take.” Dakota started to regret asking as he had now sent his mother into a giant rant about why Silfast taking over Sunpass was dumb. If he was honest, he didn’t pay attention to most of what she was saying. Only nodding an humming to giver her the illusion that he was listening to her, it was better than speaking and making the whole tirade worse than it already was, but soon enough it was over.

“Dumb kings...” Amelia grumbled as she got up to check on the rabbit stew. Practically throwing the newspaper on her chair. ” Alright…Silfast is not a good topic to bring up.” Dakota mentally noted, picking up the newspaper to see what else was going on.

Dakota quietly read some of the newspaper out loud to himself. “Let’s see…traveling merchants. Upcoming festivals...” nothing that caught his eye, so he put the newspaper back down then he remembered about the scale he had bought. So, with a quick pep in his step, he walked into the dining room to grab the scale out the backset and examine it some more. If you rubbed the scale one way, then it was smooth but if you rubbed it another way then it was rough. He held the scale up to the light to see how it reflected the light, creating a small rainbow. “Woah...” Dakota whisper under his breath. He wasn’t an expert on dragon scales by any means so he couldn’t figure out if it was real or just a really well make fake scale, but he thought it was a good catch either way.

#original story #dragon oc #fantasy #original character #original series #ao3 writer #my writing #writing #creative writing #original post #dragon #dragon ocs #dragon original character #fantasy world #magic #transformation #animal transformation #no beta read

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nyssandracousland · 1 year

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Chapter 6

Nyss walked into her room and heard her bedroom door shut, she was finally alone. She was curious, ‘Maybe he has information on mages.’ She thought as she started to leaf through the books on the shelf to give her some sort of clue. Mostly Chantry History, a few books on Strategy a book on Ferelden Etiquette. Sadly, she discovered nothing about Mage treatment.

However, she did find some letters written to ‘Cullen Rutherford’, from a woman. ‘No I shouldn’t read these, this is personal.’ She argued with herself.

Her inquiring mind got the best of her, and she picked one up off the shelf and started to read.

My dearest Cullen,

Things on the farm have been hard. Mother and father both are suffering from old age and sickness but we are hoping things will get better. Branson and his son are helping as much as they can.

I am so proud of you and every day I thank the Maker you are alive and well. Oh please write more often. I have much to tell you, I have had my hand asked for by Lon, you remember him don’t you? You were a little boy but I’m sure you remember him. I haven’t decided yet. But he seems decent.

Please come home for a visit, and write soon you ninny.

Love, your sister Mia

‘I shouldn’t have read that, but it wasn’t harmful. It’s so strange to think of Templars having families who have normal lives.’ Nyss thought.

For a moment, her mind had strayed from Emmy and started to think of what the Rutherford’s farm could have been like. She closed her eyes and pictured a big barn with horses and cows, and a garden full of vegetables. She pictured what Mia could have looked like and this Lon. She wondered what his mother and father were doing on a night like tonight. Nyss allowed her thoughts to roam, and soon enough, she was asleep.

Dawn came, and Cullen brought Nyss breakfast to her room. She was great full, she sat on the bed while Cullen sat on the chair at the writing desk, and they discussed the Circle.

“Do you feel all Mages are a danger?” She questioned.

“I’m sure they are not all going to fall prey to demons.”

“But I mean, the ones that do not, shouldn’t they be allowed more freedoms?”

“I suppose, but you never know when something can happen.”

“Ser, you could hurt yourself from riding a horse but yet you still ride. Shouldn’t individuals be given more credit?”

“In a perfect world, I agree. We cannot live in fear. Fear breeds hate.”

“Exactly. Does the Chantry teach us to hate?” Nyss raised an eyebrow.

“No My Lady, but being in charge of those who could harm, is a whole other issue. We are not supposed to hate our charges, we are supposed to…” he trailed off.

“You’re supposed to keep them under your careful watch.” She sighed. “I understand Cullen.” She took a sip of her warm floral tea, “At least you are kind enough to discuss this. Most will not. I appreciate it.” She smiled at him.

Cullen smiled back at her, and sipped his own tea. “Did you always know Emmy was a Mage?”

“Depends, are you going to lock me up if I did?”

“Never, then I’d have to answer your ethical questions more often.” He laughed.

Nyss grinned, and took a deep breath. “I found out a few years after the Amells moved to Highever. We were playing and Emmy threw a magnificent fireball at me. It grazed my shoulder, and singed my eyebrows off. It was sort of a dead giveaway.”

“And you knew to keep it secret?”

“Of course, she was my best friend and I knew what consequences were.”

“It’s so rare to meet someone who cares for people beyond what is necessary.” He said quietly.

“Do not Templars care for one another?”

“I suppose, we become companions but we tend to watch out for ourselves, unless in battle. Then we work as a unit.”

“So no one to really confide in? No one to send a letter to just to say ‘Hello! I fell into a giant swamp today.’?”

Cullen chuckled. “Sadly no.”

“That is rather a lonely life Ser. I tell Emmy everything. She knows me well, she came and found me a few weeks back when I had ran away from a party my mother threw. She knew exactly where I’d be.”

“Your mother throws parties?”

“She is quite invested in my future…..” Nyss furrowed her brow. “Not what I want, but what they deem useful.”

“I see, I’m sure the young men lined up for their chance at a dance!” He teased.

Nyss scrunched her face. “There were a few, but they are all so pomp and ceremony. So after pleasantries, I left. I can only make small talk for so long with people who only speak of their wealth and their endowment size.”

“I am glad to hear you are not so eager to find someone, most jump at the opportunity.” He said quietly.

Nyss grinned, “I want an adventure first.”

“Then let me show you some of the Tower!” He said excitedly.

Cullens stood and motioned for her to follow. She followed quietly as he took her to the Templar library.

Most of the corridors on the way there all looked the same. So she made a mental note not to get too sidetracked by them for when she would relay her experiences to Emmy.

The Templar library had more books than she had ever seen before. Walls lined from top to bottom with tomes, scrolls, pictures and histories.

Nyss was completely captivated by it all. Cullen could obviously tell, so he asked her “Do you enjoy the histories?”

“I do, my father was part of the warriors that took Ferelden back from Orlais. He fought with General Howe, Loghaine and King Meric.”

“That’s impressive. I had no idea your family history was so well written.” He paused and looked at Nyss. “Well my lady you can spend as much time here as you wish, and of course any questions you may have I am more than happy to answer, and if you would like to take a book back to your room we will have that arranged.” He drew in a deep breath. “Now I need to do some of my own readings, I will be in meditation for a while, but should you need assistance feel free to rouse me.”

Cullen turned and walked towards a desk not far away. He sat down, and closed is eyes. Today, he wasn’t wearing his Templar armor. He was wearing his robes that Nyss had seen another Templar wearing at dinner last night. They were a deep garnet color and had golden embellishments. They were fitted to him, and if she did not know any better, he could have passed for Nobility.

Nyss noticed that he slightly swayed side to side as he meditated on what she believed was the Chant of Light, as that is all she figured Templars ever thought about.

So instead of the Chant, she decided to finger through the books on the higher shelves. She figured less read works would be out of normal reach and perhaps that’s where she could find information on Mages or Templars.

Sure enough she found one entitled “Magic and Order - a History”. She sat down on the cold cobble ground and started to read it.

Nyss thought about Emmy as she turned each page and realized how feared Mages were. There was a part that spoke of The Tevinter Imperium where Mages were more or less completely free, and she made a note of remembering to suggest Emmy flee there to hide.

As time during the day passed, her patience for the evening meal was growing. She felt hungry, and realized she had been so involved with her book she missed lunch. Which reminded her that Cullen missed lunch as well. She looked over to the desk he was still sitting at.

The suns rays coming through the window had sprawled far enough across the room to illuminate the back of his head. The sheen that came from his locks was magnificent. She decided she would quietly see what he was doing for so long.

She silently walked up behind him, and peaked over his shoulder.

“What are you reading?” She asked.

“Oh my lady, nothing.” He quickly shut the book. “You startled me, how are you so quiet?”

“My brother Fergus taught me to use my rogue skills well.” She grinned wickedly, “so what are you reading?” She asked again.

“Honestly nothing, just Templar information, how to remain chaste, pieces of the Chant and so on.” He said shifting in his seat.

Nyss jokingly rolled her eyes. She knew it was not Templar business. “You are a terrible liar.” She smiled.

At this point she understood that anyone who shuts a book that quickly is looking at something they are secretive of. She caught Ser Gilmore doing that on a number of occasions, always to find him reading the romantic poetry that he so loved.

“Uh-er-ugh, fine, I was reading about war tactics.” He said unconvincingly.

“I see.” Nyss grabbed the book like a child and read the title out loud, “‘How to Capture the Queen’?”

“It’s not what you think, it’s chess strategies. It was one of my favourite games as a child and I have yet to find someone here who would best me at a game. I don’t mean to boast but I am really a decent player.” Cullen said proudly.

“You played chess before you came here? What else did you like to do before you came here?” She asked sitting down across from him.

“It’s been a long time, and I wasn’t the youngest when I first started my Templar training. I was thirteen when I came to the Order, some are even younger. I did not receive my title as Templar until I was eighteen, they want us educated and trained first. My sister Mia was the biggest supporter of my decision to want to become a Templar. Everyone else thought I was daft, but this is what I have always wanted.” He stopped, “Sorry that was not the question you asked.”

“That is alright, I suppose if I’m going to be spending my time with you, I would like to at least get to know you.”

The edges of Cullens mouth did a delicate upturn. Nyss could barely tell. She didn’t usually have a hard time reading people, but he was an unusual case.

“I suppose it wouldn’t be a harm to either of us to do that. After all it will be a quiet time if we don’t.” He said. “And I did enjoy our conversation this morning.”

“Then how about we talk over a game of chess?” She suggested.

“Sound’s like my type of conversation.”

0 notes

meanderful · 1 year

Text

Ubud Part 2: Cooking, Cremation, and Holy Sites

Culinary Escapades

Welcome back for Part 2 of our Ubud adventures! As you may remember, I spent a significant chunk of our time in Ubud working through a litany of minor scrapes and colds, but luckily just before the cold really got a hold of me, Sam and I snuck in a culinary treat.

Given our obsession with food, Sam’s mum Ali had generously gifted us a Balinese cooking class. We picked a session with the Bali Farm Cooking School, which began first thing in the morning at a food market in Ubud. Our instructor, Deren, walked us between the stalls, taking us through various local produce. He then drove us about half an hour out of town to the farm, where we then toured the farmland itself, learning about what they grow and picking ingredients for our cooking. It’s a small farm, just 1 hectare (2.5 acres), used predominantly to grow food to run the courses and feed their family, though anything left over is sold at market. We walked between coconut palm trees to pick chillies, lemongrass, and lots of green produce such as pak choi, as well as a hunk of turmeric root and even a strip of cinnamon bark.

Photos above: Deren teaches us about different roots in the ginger family at the local market; picking leafy greens for our cooking; Deren cutting some cinnamon bark; coconut palms

The cooking itself took place under a thatched roof structure that was open at the sides so that we could look out at the farm as we cooked, as the day moved from persistent sunshine to full-on rainy-season rain. The class taught various menus simultaneously, so we opted for the vegetarian, which was either often innately vegan or easily adaptable. Deren was a fantastic instructor, making the whole process both great fun but also precise and full of interesting titbits. As well as learning about various new ingredients, we also made our own Bumbu Bali, a spice mix that forms the base of many Balinese dishes and involved a lot of manual crushing of ingredients using the heavy-duty pestle and mortar. Throughout the morning, we cooked a 6-course feast, working in stages to first create two appetisers and pause to eat them, before moving on to cook and eat our three mains, and finally our dessert. Our menu was, for starters, sweet and sour tempe plus fresh gado gado. For mains, we ate sizzling corn fitters, a tempe and tofu vegetable curry, and pepes (a mushroom mix steamed in banana leaf parcels). And to cap it all off, we tucked into black rice pudding with banana chunks and coconut milk. Scrum-diddly-umptious.

Photos above: our preparation station; Sam crushing spices; our cooking station; Sam cooking while I studiously annotate the recipes; Sam flipping the sweet and sour tempe; eating our appetisers; preparing the pepes (banana leaf parcels); frying up the corn fritters; our main course

A Royal Send-Off

On one of the days I was sick in bed, Sam headed into Ubud’s town centre where four cremation ceremonies were taking place. These are normally a spectacle, but the final one happened to be the cremation of a prince from Ubud’s royal family, so it was unusually extravagant affair. As part of the celebrations, a procession passes through the city. At the front is a float of a giant holy cow that the body and personal possessions are placed into for the cremation itself. Following behind are family members and offerings for the ceremony, and finally, a float that bears the body. In the case of the prince, this structure was a whopping 18m (60ft) high, with two large teams of men taking it in turn to carry this massive structure through the town. Once they arrived in the centre, a ceremony took place, before the body was burnt inside the holy cow.

Photos above: the royal prince's 18m-tall float; transferring the coffin from the float down to the sacred cow; burning the body within the sacred cow effigy

Video above: the prince's float is carried through the streets

Sacred Explorations

After sampling the dancing, cuisine, and retail options that Ubud had to offer us, as well as hiring a scooter for the day to move about the town more easily (turns out one of life’s peak happiness moments is riding pillion on a scooter as you zoom through a tropical town with the person you love), we decided, on our last day, to explore the surrounding area. Madé (the taxi driver/Kecak performer and passionate Liverpool FC supporter we met through the dance performance) was our driver for the day and took us around a number of amazing sites. First up, we headed to Goa Gajah (or Elephant Cave), a 9th Century temple site created around a cave sanctuary carved into the rock. It was so named because it’s thought that the carved face might resemble an elephant (this was quite a stretch of the imagination for me given the complete lack of trunk) or else perhaps named after the Ganesha elephant figure inside the cave itself. The whole temple site is sat amid the surrounding forest so after walking around the temple itself and into the cave, we then climbed down various flights of stairs amid the trees until we were standing beside a small waterfall. It’s amazing how these beautiful temples are so often set within incredible scenes of nature.

Photos above: with Madé at the Elephant Cave; inside the cave, smokey with incense; one of the temple's shrines; walking through the surrounding forest; a sacred bayan tree in the grounds

Next up, we headed to Gunung Kawi. To get to this sacred site, we had to climb down roughly 300 steps, past rice paddies, streams, and forest. Just as we reached the temple, the daily rain began and we immediately took cover. Rainy-season rain isn’t just like heavy rain in the UK—it’s so intense that you can become completely soaked within a minute (not a hint of exaggeration here, truly) and can last at this intensity for hours. In the end, we only had to sit it out for an hour until it abated and we could wander around. The 11th Century site is most famous for the ten shrines, five on each side of the narrow valley, carved directly out of the rock. Each one stands at 7 metres (23 ft) tall and they are thought to be dedicated to King Udayana, his queens, sons, and concubines.

Photos above: five of the shrines on one side of the valley; several of the shrines on the other side of the valley with the stream in view; Sam's amazing photography skills when capturing the surrounding rice paddies

We paused on our journey for lunch and ended up at a road-side restaurant that was a kind of wooden tunnel built high on stilts (i.e. basically a TREEHOUSE RESTAURANT, hell yeah), so that the view was of a vast valley covered in rainforest (though the food was very average, and very expensive so the view certainly wasn’t free).

Our final sacred site of the day was the busiest—Tirta Empul (loosely translated from the Balinese to mean “water gushing from the earth”) is one of the five most sacred sites in Bali and so attracts a vast number of visitors. It was first founded in 962AD, around a water spring after, legend tells, an epic battle between a magical king named Mayadenawa and the God Indra (very long story short, Indra wins over the evil king and pierces the ground with his staff, from whence gushed forth the holy water). The temple is, unsurprising, dedicated to Vishnu, the Hindu god of water.

At the entrance, a vast, ancient bayan tree stood, huge branches spread thick with bromeliads and draping vines to the ground. We were given sarongs, as with any temple visit, and then wandered our way through the complex. We started at the purification baths, where anyone who wished to was invited to step into the water for the purifying ritual. Past the baths, we came to an inner courtyard filled with shrines and a large pool, built around the spring itself and containing crystal clear water, showing the bright green of the reeds growing within it. On the way out, we passed the Koi Pond, where hundreds of Koi Carp fiercely swarmed together whenever anyone sprinkled the fish food on sale into the water.

Photos above: being shy with Madé's exuberant photo-taking at the temple entrance; the purification ritual; the holy spring; the Koi Carp

Our last stop was at the Tegallalang rice terraces. This swathe of farmland is famed for its beautiful paddies cut into the side of the valley, but we were actually quite disappointed—the way to look over the landscape was by paying an entrance fee to a kind of park that seemed entirely made up of various “selfie” spots and swings from which to take photos for Instagram. There are probably better spots to check out the terraces from, but this one was not our cup of tea, especially considering that Sam and I are both horribly awkward whenever a camera is pointed at the both of us together.

Photo above: a huge photo spot feature set in front of the rice terraces

Lembongan Take Two

After nearly two weeks in Ubud, we headed back to Nusa Lembongan (the island we were previously staying on). Though I’m still recovering from the vestiges of the cold, our hope is that Sam, finally, will be able to dive here—fingers crossed!

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chocodollxren · 2 years

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Do you have more soft hcs for Grim? I saw a cat spa video and now i'm obsessed with the idea of Grim and MC doing that for fun

absolutely!! that is an amazing video i love it so much. grim and mc having a familiar bond is just one of my favourite things ever so thank you so much for the request! @dexpairs-blog <3 here’s your gyokuro tea! ended up falling asleep and binging these, there’s nothing better than someone who loves their animals and treat them right!!! also this is like… totally not inspired by what i want to do or have done to my cats. aha, just saying though if you have time, heating up your clothes in the dryer before wearing them feels relaxing. may i offer you THIS in return? because this would also 100% be yuu and grim, where ace constantly tries to pick up grim and and the void kitten growls in return his lil ferocious meow. the boys just break into ramshackle and see yuu reading grim bedtime stories. yuu brings grim to monstro lounge carried like a baby getting a cat-coffee.

𓄹 ❥ 𝘊𝘢𝘵 𝘚𝘱𝘢❦ 𝘎𝘳𝘪𝘮,,

-> teahouse ,, menu ! order up ” guestlist ! ꒱·˚ ,, #O4.18.22🍵 ˖˚˳⊹ 'ּ໋݊◵

summary: after a tough day, not causing any trouble, at least, Grim gets his favorite Friday reward of being pampered by his one and only henchmen! what do they do, and how much does he purr? gn!mc with no tw.

throughout the whole day, Grim was smiling with an extra spring in his step. he caused no trouble, paid attention in class, and didn’t even run away because tonight was Friday, the day where you’d finally treat him like the world’s greatest sorcerer that he was. although he’d prefer it nightly, you promised as his henchmen that on every other Friday, if he managed to pay attention and not get in trouble the whole day, you’d pamper him for his good behavior. a win-win for you and Grim, who both equally enjoyed the activity.

as the two of you arrived in Ramshackle, you barely put down your bag as you Grim begun demanding your attention. laughing, you scratch under his neck gently, while scooping him up in one arm and going into the laundry room, turning the dryer on for a quick spin, making sure to gently rock him in one arm with the tiniest of pets, walking to the kitchen and using the free hand to reach into the fridge. thank you for the fish, Kalim. however, it will all be eaten in one setting, with how much Grim ate usually.

taking out the high quality tuna and sardines, you careful put him down as he looked at you with giant baby eyes, watching your every move as you hummed, playing soft music on your phone while putting on your “kiss the cat guardian” apron, and begun to cook the tuna and sardine for him, slicing, frying, and adding the vegetable oil, a few seasonings in the mix, mainly salt and lemon with the tiniest bit of pepper. while keeping an eye on the pan, you pull out a second chopping board and wash your hands to not cross-contaminate and begin cutting celery and onions, putting them onto a bowl as you scoop out some yogurt, before making sure to flip the fish, and resuming the plating. quietly, you grate a block of cheese, more the better, and put into a separate bowl. finally, you grab the bell peppers and cut them up in half, before focusing back on frying.

you couldn’t make anything elaborate, but stuffed bell peppers were enough to satisfy Grim, for now. you could hear him salivating and found your efforts rewarding, he was singing praises as he saw you mix the ingredients together, the fish, yogurt, onions, and celery before putting them into the peppers, topping it up with cheese, putting it in the oven for a few minutes to melt it and make sure everything was thoroughly cooked. as soon as the oven rang, the song playing finished and you pulled out your heatproof-mittens, reaching in and feeling the heat of the oven on your face, followed by the smell of the fish and pepper. you’d accepted your dorm would always smell like fish, you’d thought while picking up the kitten and placing him on a tall chair by the counter. smiling, you momentarily watch him eat before cleaning up, loading the dishes in the dishwasher and scrubbing your hands clean before getting your bag.

while he’s being fed, you set up your bedroom. he’d always sleep cuddling against you, and whenever you’d finish he’d be fast asleep, so you’d decided to hold it there. your bag of materials laid spread on the bed, still plenty of room for the two of you, as you went to the laundry room. there you picked up the blanket which finished a few minutes ago, piping hot and warm enough to cuddle, and carried it to the bedroom and made a small nest the size of Grim to lay in. you’d original got him a separate blanket for when you stayed up late studying to seek warmth under, but seems like the thick blanket found a better use. blanket, pillows, an array of brushes, trimming scissors, face masks, cucumbers, and a bit of rose-oil you’d diluted in water and stored away, to help with making Grim both smell good and help with hardened fur.

making your way back to the kitchen, you see your little cat was nearly done and made your way to a cabinet, reaching for two larger cups, spoiling yourselves as you boil water, and heat up a cup of milk in the microwave. taking out a packet, you shook it and tore and gently tipped the powder into the milk fateful to not spill, getting a small stir to ensure the top to bottom was touching the powder to make a sweetened milk chocolate. inside your fridge, you shook the can and added whip cream, and found the gummy bears, marshmallows, and caramel dripper and put it aside to clean up. once your water finished boiling, Grim finished and you gave him his cup, ushering him to the room before placing the plate underwater to not crust from spilt yogurt, and made your tea. pretty and sweet honey, with a dash of sour lemon juice, mixed and stirred with a hint of ginger for that spice, making a mouthwatering tea that took you no more than a few moments to make. placing a mint atop, you had quite frankly, made a great and calming tea that tasted as though a teamaster made it, such perfection.

happily, you carried your beverage and a premade meal in the fridge to your room, knowing full well you wouldn’t be leaving after he falls asleep on your lap and softly purrs, forcing your leg to cramp for the next ten hours straight. upon entering, you see your cat snuggled up to the blanket, stomach exposed, cucumbers on his eyes and ready to relax. laughing, you set your dinner down on a bedside table barely in reach and climbed atop the bed, making your way towards the blanket, putting your thighs under, starting with the oil.

rubbing your hands thoroughly with it, you made sure he was ready one more time before starting with his face, rubbing your fingers against his cheeks, neither rough nor feathery-light. you make your way from the insides to out, as he purrs in satisfaction. as you make your way down to his chin, you make your way from the very edge of the chin, before stopping and oiling up again as he meows in unhappiness. sighing at how impatient he is, you being to massage under his chin spending a good few minutes there, feeling his purrs against your fingertips before they cramp lightly and your body tells you to move to the next part already.

starting from the area around the cucumbers, you move in to out and back on his forehead while lightly pressing your thumbs, then begun to rub circles, and move further back to the top of his head, dabbing a few more drops of oil and massaging the sweet-smelling scent into his fur. making your way to his neck, you begin to press down a bit more and rub. putting pressure on your thumbs, you aim for the centre on his neck as the other fingers have a grip on his shoulders to help relax him as he feels his tense muscles loosen, despite being a cat.

you had become an expert on cats. slowly making your way down his sides, unable to reach his back and all the way up. you continue for nearly ten minutes before going for his upper paws and giving small squishes and examining how they’d need to be trimmed before massaging those while his leg twitches and reminds you to do the other neglected paws. you refrain from tugging at his tail and give his ears a few gentle rubs, not too much cause of fire, before looking through your brushes.

perfect, you’d thought before grabbing a cat comb and begun to groom his cheeks and under his chin and dabbing a few more rose-oil drops on the comb. that was more than enough, you’d thought while putting away the oil to not overuse the precious material you’d need during your next spa day reward for him.

you’d started with his stomach and made your way by the sides and begun to make sure his fur were straight and with any loose ends you’d hold the comb there and use the scissors to quickly snip away the unkept fur. this process was fun but tedious as you were meticulous about the white fur patch above his already soft fur looking as pristine as possible. making your way to his paws, you place your materials down and cover his face with the face mask, and trim the fur around and begin to file his nails with permission, to ensure he doesn’t lose or scratch someone or especially you when asleep.

you made sure to file, and not clip, just as you’d do to your nails to ensure they were perfect and not weird, and wondered how such a strong, or well, how such a prideful cat was already snoring on your lap as you polished his nails for him, considering he’d always bragged about being the world’s greatest sorcerer alive, despite only using fire magic, and called you his henchmen. actually, perhaps you were a mindless henchmen at this point, you’d thought while gathering the loose fur, remembering the cat brush and glaring at your dresser and stretching your body to the limits every lazy person has passed to get both your tea and the glove barely within reach.

taking a few sips, you’d ended up drinking the entire cup much to your dismay and begun brushing him down to gather loose fur clumps while gently setting your cup down adding a mental reminder to clean that when he wakes up and you are free to move again, rather than step on your tea cup again and earn a circle bruise underneath your foot from that trap cup who was a tea in fine-china clothing.

you never grew tire of seeing the pure amount of fur he shed, and just how much you genuinely inhaled on a daily basis while sleeping at this point, before putting your clump corner in your bag to not let the wind from a hole somewhere like in the roof to send it flying, a previous mistake of your’s you learned through plenty trial and error attempts of spa attempts.

shaking your head you rub your hands lightly and begin to massage him one last time for a good half hour before taking both the cucumbers and his face mask off and proceeding to stare at your premade meal on the counter, you gently fall back against the bed and call it night and text Ace to bring you that treacherous enemy of your’s you call a meal five feet away, under the guise of you needing him for an emergency.

✎ ˎˊ- "chocodollxren" [choco - doll - rhen] ˖˚˳⊹ 'ּ໋݊◵ dn repost. likes/comments/reblogs appreciated; not required. so long as you enjoyed the content.

#twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland hcs #twst wonderland hcs #twisted wonderland headcanons #twst headcanons #twst wonderland headcanons #twst grim #twisted wonderland grim

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debiteful · 3 years

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Are you still doin' writing requests? If so, could you write about a giant finding a borrower, with some unintentional fearplay on the giants part?

Content: apparent threat of harm, size difference (Giant/tiny), fearplay, hand held, crying, trapped under a bowl, ends on a positive note

Taking on a renovation by yourself was a monumental task. Thankfully the boundless strength of a giant made it much easier. Will spent weeks planning everything before he was finally ready to begin.

He started with the floors, tearing them up bit by bit. Beneath the boards there were scraps of fabric, bits of metal that seemed to have once been staples, and even an old cereal box. At first Will assumed whoever had built the place had been careless. As he progressed and found more trash, he began to see patterns. Strategic cuts in the cardboard here, nails running in a diagonal line without securing anything, and other such seemingly intelligent designs.

Though it was odd, it helped click some puzzle pieces together. Rustling in the panty, socks disappearing, and soft yet shrill noises in the night. Something tiny was living in his home. By the looks of it they were taking things for their own purposes too! Nothing important of course, or he might've noticed sooner.

Now he had more planning to do. After all, he was tearing apart their home too!

Skip berated herself for the hundredth time for sticking around after that bean began tearing the place apart. Safe hiding places were growing fewer by the hour it seemed. It was impossible to predict where it would go to next, meaning she had to move all the borrowed things hastily. Already she had left a lot behind, and, to make matters worse, it had been found. Thankfully the bean hadn't seemed to catch on.

On the bright side, the renovation left lots of building scraps. Most helpful was the chunks of insulating foam. They were easy to cut and carry, and they could be used to build all sorts of things.

Presently Skip was trying to move them into the shed across the back lawn. She'd never lived out there because the temperature fluctuated too much. With insulation it might be bearable, and it would certainly be safer than in that madbean's house!

Unfortunately, the main house was still the best place to get food. Skip would wait somewhere secure in the evening until she heard the bean go to bed, then sneak out to get what crumbs she could.

Tonight, a fallen cracker tempted her, but it was the crushed cereal on the counter that would be doable to bring home. She darted out from behind the toaster towards it, but she didn't get far.

Something caught her leg. As she fell, there was a grating sound. Then darkness. Something had landed atop her! A bowl? Probably.

Skip walked slowly with her arms out as feelers. Upon reaching the edge she tried to get her fingers under it and lift. That failed, of course.

She tried to fight back panic. Her shim and pry bar lay securely at home- this was supposed to be a quick in and out job! Essentially equipmentless, there were very few options.

She took in a deep breath, releasing it slowly. Mind a little clearer, she searched her memory for what direction she must be facing. Slowly she walked around the edge of the bowl to the side closest to the edge of the counter. At least, she hoped it was.

Pushing with all her might got her nowhere. Getting a running start for the shove did about the same. Soon, Skip was throwing herself at the bowl in desperation.

Battered and exhausted, she sunk to her knees. Body and tears fell to the countertop.

The rest of the night was spent filled with tension. Every sound was certainly the giant coming. Paranoid thoughts spiraled, centered around what the giant would do to her.

When at last Will did come, the sound was unmistakable to the trembling borrower. She had heard those thunderous steps a thousand times.

Skip envied the ease with which the giant lifted the bowl which confined her. Tilted up on one edge, it could now shove its gigantic hand beneath. She couldn't help but utter a little shriek as fingers as large as her groped around blindly. She didn't dare try to dart through the gap lest the bowl snap back down on a limb.

Dodging the fingers was difficult with no sleep or breakfast. The tip of one brushed her leg. The whole hand rushed her. A massive thumb pinned her to the pointer finger.

The bowl lifted slowly, so she had ample time to imagine the look on its face while she struggled. Her heart was racing wildly. Tears threatened to well up, but she had spent most of them through the night. Stinging eyes locked on to the enormous face.

The giant had quite the satisfied grin splitting its features. Its eyes flicked side to side as the giant took in its captive.

Likewise, Skip's eyes darted frantically. No sign of a weapon. Then again, with teeth and hands like these, it wouldn't need a weapon. Gracious it was absolutely gigantic up close, larger than she had ever thought.

The thunderous voice she had heard dozens of times was deafening at such a close range.

"Hello there," Will said in awe. The borrower was silent and flinched. He frowned and spoke more softly, "Who are you?"

Even at a dull roar the sound was too much. Skip growled like an animal and bit at his knuckles. He inhaled sharply and adjusted the hold to pin her head. It wouldn't take much for those fingers to crush it.

Will put her in the jar he had for this purpose. Being moved through the air was a disorienting and unpleasant experience. If she was lucky, she would be too dizzy to see whatever killed her coming. Skip was genuinely surprised when she landed on something soft in the bottom of the glass.

Left on the counter, she didn't dare take her eyes off of her captor. He bustled around the kitchen humming softly. She was familiar with this habit of his- the sound echoed through the walls in the evening. For the first time she heard the lyrics of his little ditty, "Gonna cook you up, gotta cook you right up! First I gotta chop you up, then plop you in the pot to cook you up!"

Hearing the giant narrate his process sent a dreadful chill through her. He was going to cook and eat her!!

More vigilant than ever, her gaze never left him. Eyes locked onto the shining blade of a knife pulled from the block. Watching the vegetables get chopped up brought to mind terrible images. The ease with which the bean could toss a heap of food into the pot brought to mind just how small she was.

Finally, the tears spilled out. Where they had been held in reserve, she had no idea. Frantic little hands rubbed one eye at a time. Delicate fingers brushed away tears without obstructing her view too much.

By the time the food was filling the air with its aroma, she still hadn't stopped crying. She watched through bleary eyes as he filled a ladle with the sauteed vegetables and brought it over. So she wasn't to be cooked: he was going to heap scalding food onto her!

Skip scrambled to one side of the jar and slid her back up the wall. That one scoop wouldn't be enough to bury her here.

Her warped upturned face looked back down at her as the ladle lowered. The giant stuck it right into the jar, then let go. What was its angle?

Tearing her gaze from his intent face, she eyed the handle of the ladle. Yes, it should be doable. Three bounding steps took her to the ladle. Using her momentum she vaulted over the bowl of it and grasped the flat handle. Like she had done hundreds of times before, she shot up the metal beam.

Just as she reached level with the lip of the jar, the giant reacted. He shouted, a deafening thunderclap. Those enormous fingers engulfed her momentarily, then they knocked her back into the jar. Now one hand lay over the mouth of her prison, effectively sealing it.

Will crouched, bringing the jar to eye level. He spoke gently, "Hey, aren't you hungry? I don't know how long exactly you were stuck on the counter." When she didn't respond he pressed on, "I promise it's good. I didn't know if you ate meat, but I figured veggies would be a safe choice. Hope it's okay that it's cooked- do you cook? Oh nevermind, it doesn't matter. Hey- can you understand me?" As his eyes scanned for any response, he finally noticed the red eyes and wet cheeks, "Oh no, have you been crying? Why? I didn't hurt you did I? Oh- I might've scared you… I'm really sorry little one."

Skip listened to his continuous ramble. It almost sounded good natured… Could she have been mistaken? A small bubble of rage rose up and erupted, "Wouldn't you be terrified if some gigantic brute trapped you and started singing about cooking?!"

Will frowned in dismay, "I didn't think about it like that."

"Beans never think," she screeched, "They just kill."

The frown deepened then flashed to a smirk, "Bean? Is that what you call us? Why?"

Skip rolled her eyes. What a dumb question! ….why did they call them beans? That didn't matter right now.

She walked over to the ladle and picked up a spear of carrot. One eye still on the giant, she took a bite of the tender veggie.

He gave a big grin, "Is it good?"

She nodded, honestly a little surprised. "So, why did you catch me? Why feed me too?"

"Well, as you've probably noticed, I'm doing a little work on the house. I found some of your stuff and I worried I might accidentally hurt you. Considering you've never introduced yourself, I figured just asking you to come out wouldn't work. I wanna help you move somewhere safer- whether it's temporary or not is up to you."

"My name's Skip," she piped up.

"Oh, mine is Will," he said with another big smile. His teeth were hardly threatening now.

She smiled back. "Oh! Actually I was already in the process of moving most of my stuff."

"Really? Where?"

There was a moment of hesitation; her distrust of beans ran deep. "Your shed, outside."

"All the way out there?" His eyes widened.

With a barked laugh, she nodded, "Yeah its pretty far. Not ideal, but I haven't a clue where you're going to strike next."

The harsh choice of words made Will frown a little. He recovered quickly though, "Well now you have the inside scoop! The entire upstairs is going to be left alone. There's also the kitchen. I- well, I still don't know what sort of places you like to live, but I'm sure there's some somewhere around here.

Skip considered her options. The upstairs was rather far away, but it was a big area so safer. The kitchen was prime territory for food and other bits n bobs, but the giant would frequent it. He seemed nice enough, but one encounter couldn't undo a lifetime of learning.

"Up the stairs should do nicely," she trailed off, already scheming on how to move all her stuff.

"Alright! Sounds good. So, is there anything I could help you move?"

The response was an absent nod before she realized what he asked. What was his angle? "Oh! Um, I guess."

They discussed what exactly needed to be moved and where. Though she was on her guard, Skip didn't notice anything untoward. The move went just as smoothly. Soon she was settled into a secluded gap beneath the floor, where she had moved all her stuff herself after he brought it to a nearby location.

By the end of it, Will was very pleased with himself. He had begun to make a new friend. What's more, she was his neighbour! He felt more at ease knowing she would be safely out of the way of the renovation.

#fearplay #giant/tiny #g/t #giant #tiny #borrower #tldr:#Skip 'what is he thinking'#Will 'No thoughts head empty'

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sgtjbbhasmyheart · 3 years

Text

Drunk Texting Is(n’t) Bad for Your Health- Chapter Four

Series Summary: Talk about your unconventional meet-cute! Bucky receives a text by mistake requesting he prove he's not Reader's sister. The easy dialogue between Reader and Bucky sparks a natural friendship, but could it lead to more? Bucky still deems himself unworthy of any form of affection or love. Reader is hellbent to prove him wrong. With the help of some (meddling) friends along the way, Bucky may get his happily-ever-after after all.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2960

Warnings: Itsy bitsy amount of angst, bad language words, mentions of phone sex and masturbation

A/N: divider credit- @firefly-graphics

DO NOT copy or replicate without my permission

“James?”

You held your breath after you uttered the name into the phone’s speaker. Your heart galloped at the thought of actually speaking to him. You’d be lying if you had said you hadn’t imagined how his voice sounded. You pictured something deep and raspy but drawled and sweet.

In the last five days, you’d imagined many things about James. Not just the sound of his voice, but his laugh, too. Rich and soothing. And of his scent- distinctly his own or a fresh, citrusy cologne of bergamot and tangerines. You imagined his rough, calloused hands sliding over your skin in slow motion.

And how he kissed. You daydreamed about that, too. Often. You couldn’t count how many times you’d stared at his sorry excuse for a selfie. You found yourself drawn to it daily. It was only part of his face, but what you could see was ruggedly handsome. His lips looked soft and delectable. You pictured yourself nibbling on his bottom lip, deepening its color to blush pink.

A sharp sigh escaped through your nose as you waited for his reply. Maybe he hadn’t heard you the first time? “James?” you asked again. “Hello?”

No response.

You pulled the phone away from your ear to make sure you were still connected. The call-time counter ticked ominously second by second on the screen. You tucked the device back under your hair to find the call was still active.

Did he get cold feet and change his mind last minute? He hadn’t hung up yet, so you weren’t exactly sure why he was waiting. Maybe he was tongue-tied? Or hadn’t expected you to pick up?

“Did you butt-dial me, James?” you laughed, trying to dispel some of your anxiety.

You heard a muffled “ shit” and two beeps. You glanced at the phone’s screen again, and call ended flashed in bold white.

Ignoring the hang-up, you immediately re-dialed James. The line rang and rang. And rang.

You weren’t confident you were going to speak with James, the longer the rings continued. He wasn’t ready to talk to you yet, and that was okay. It had only been five days.

Five days wasn’t long enough to build a bond over stupid Would You Rather? questions or form a simmering crush on a stranger that made your stomach flip whenever he sent you a funny cat meme. Nope. Five days was much too short of time for anything.

A generic voicemail greeting clicked over and rudely beeped at you. You took a deep breath and quickly thought of a reason to be calling someone who didn’t want to talk. “Hey, James. Just calling you back. It’s (Y/N), by the way. I’m not sure if you meant to call the first time or if sneaky ninjas have accosted you and somehow did a crazy pocket dial. Y’know, because of the whole military-trained assassin athlete mchottie thing. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. And no pressure! If you’re not comfortable talking on the phone, I completely understand. I’m sweating bullets just talking to your voicemail box.” You chuckled nervously. You were starting to babble.

“Anyway,” you continued. “I hope you’re well. And don’t leave me hangin’. I really wanna know if you’d rather sneeze every hour or burp when you saw a pretty girl.” You laughed again. “Goodbye, James.”

You mashed the end call button and face-planted into one of the throw pillows on your couch. You groaned loudly into the fabric, chastising yourself in your head. If he didn’t want to talk before, he most definitely wouldn’t want to now. You shook your head in disbelief. Sneaky ninjas, seriously? What. The. Fuck?

Hours later, while in the middle of a Say Yes to the Dress marathon (dammit Robyn!) and a self-induced diabetic coma of ice cream and chips, your phone vibrated. You swat at it on the coffee table with a foot, only to realize you lack the limberness or the dexterity in your toes to retrieve the phone. As a result, it tumbled to the ground as you groaned in displeasure. Cursing your luck, you bent forward to pick it up. Awakening the phone’s black screen, a text popped into view.

James Sorry

Your heart lurched for a moment. With every second that had passed since you’d left your voicemail for James, the least likely you’d felt he’d call back or even respond. Hence the pity party with Ben & Jerry and Cool Ranch Doritos.

James My so-called “friends” grabbed my phone from me and led to accidentally calling you.

Ahh, the old “invade-your-friend’s-privacy” maneuver, you thought, shaking your head.

James I didn’t want to hang up on you, but I’m not quite ready to talk yet. I like what we have.

Your heart flopped. You liked what you had, too, but a small part of you- a dumb part- wanted just a little more.

Shaking off the feeling of longing churning your insides, you thumbed over the screen to reply.

You No worries, James. We can go at whatever speed you like.

It was weird to have the guy, for once, want to take things slow. Usually, it was always you pumping the brakes in the relationship. Was this even a relationship, though? Were all the texting and personal questions leading somewhere? Or were you bound to end up friends with an interesting story to tell your other friends?

Not allowing your negative thoughts to curtail the joy of finally texting James again, you quickly punched out:

You I’m just glad you’re okay and not being held for ransom somewhere.

James It would take a whole horde of ninjas to take me down.

You giggled at the confidence contained in this one text, but talking to a girl on the phone threw him for a loop. We are definitely back in junior high, you thought.

You You sound awfully confident for a man who wouldn’t talk to a friend on the phone.

James You don’t want to talk to me.

You pinched your eyebrows together in frustration to form a crease between them. Was he serious?

You Sure, I do. I have a bet going with myself on how your voice sounds. Is it deep and masculine or high-pitched like you sucked in helium?

James Which are you betting on?

You pulled your bottom lip in by your teeth, biting softly. You smirked as you thought of the two options. The former would be nice, but the latter would be pretty damn funny.

You I mean, deep and masculine is very desirable. Listening to the low timbre of a man’s voice is very relaxing for me. But, considering the ridiculous “selfie” you sent me, I’m placing my money on high-pitched.

James What was wrong with my selfie?!

Somehow, you knew that would get him worked up.

You Well, for starters: I can only see, like, part of your face! Did a blind person teach you how to take them??

You And secondly, there clearly wasn’t enough “Blue Steel.” With cheekbones and pouty lips like yours and a chiseled jaw, I’d be blue-steeling the shit out of all my selfies!

A wave of remorse washed over you once you hit send. Had you really compared him to Zoolander? Not only had you objectified him by mentioning how aesthetically pleasing he was (let’s face it- he’s really, really, really ridiculously good looking), but you may have criticized him for his terrible selfie abilities. At that moment, as you waited for the inevitable “fuck off” text to come through, you wished for a giant sinkhole to appear under your apartment and swallow you whole. What were you thinking?

James First off, I’m a selfie amateur. My past line of work limited my contact and/or exposure to the outside world. I didn’t learn what a selfie even was until recently. Remember, I’m also a man of mystery. I’m trying to keep up appearances and can’t reveal too much.

James What is “Blue Steel”? I’m not very pop-culture savvy unless it happened before 1944.

James Did you just call me pretty??

Your cheeks flushed with the heat of a thousand suns. He called you out as you expected him to do.

You Uh...

You Are we gonna talk about the fact you said you didn’t know about pop culture after 1944?? You are a grandpa!

James Nice try with the subject change! Admit it- you think I’m pretty.

You rolled your eyes. Of course, that would be the thing he focused on out of the whole conversation.

You I have no idea what you’re talking about.

If all else fails--deny, deny, deny.

James Right. Sure about that, doll?

Your pulse spiked.

You never did like pet names before you met James, but doll had a goo-ing effect on you for some reason. Everything seemed to turn to mush whenever he mentioned the word.

You Absolutely. I have no reason to believe that if you weren’t a military-trained assassin athlete mchottie, you’d be a male model. None what-so-ever.

James Uh-huh. I’m going to pretend that you aren’t lying through your teeth and getting back to our scintillating game of Would You Rather?

James I’d burp every time I saw a pretty dame, by the way. I wouldn’t want to take my chances with sneezing in my sleep. Would you rather eat only fruits or vegetables for one year?

Several nights after the voicemail incident, you were sitting in Penelope with Robyn after work. She wanted to meet up to decide which centerpieces worked best for the reception. Scattered across the table were three samples she and Kevin had narrowed it down to. With your thumb, while playing with a corner of the hand-drawn example closest to you, a sigh escaped your nose.

Your sister’s talent mesmerized you. Each storyboard showed the intricate detail of the flowers and candles themselves and what the tables would look like next to each other with every centerpiece. You were in awe.

“These are so good, Robbie! They must have taken forever to put together,” you said, admiring a different sample on the table.

“Nah,” she replied, brushing the compliment aside. “Just an afternoon’s time last week.”

“Well, shit. I hope they’re paying you the big bucks at work.”

She quirked an eyebrow devilishly as she reached for her drink. “You know it,” she jested before taking a sip.

You laughed at her cheekiness. Robyn had always been a go-getter. One of the many attributes you loved about her. Never took no for an answer.

“Soooo,” she drawled as she set her glass down. “How have you been?”

You looked up swiftly, eyeing her suspiciously before returning your gaze to the storyboard in your hands. “I’m still alive if that’s what you’re asking.” You set the drawing down to take a drink from your glass. “Haven’t been murdered yet, but the night is still young.”

Robyn rolled her eyes at your petulance. “You know I worry about you. Are you still texting James?”

You smiled sweetly. “Each day that goes by, you act more and more like Mom. You know that?”

Robyn scoffed. “I do not!”

She could deny it all she wanted, but Robyn was turning into the spitting image of your mother. You laughed again. “You do too. Even down to the eye roll.”

She folded her arms over her chest, waiting for you to answer her question.

Two could play this game.

You wiped the corner of your mouth with your napkin unhurriedly. “If you must know, yes, James and I are still texting.”

“Has he sent any dick pics or asked for nudes?” Robyn asked earnestly.

“Yup. We engage in wildly pornographic phone sex every night.”

Robyn glanced around the restaurant with eyes wide as saucers, making sure none of the other patrons heard you. “(Y/N), I’m serious! Has he propositioned you?”

You huffed a small laugh. “Nope,” you admitted. “In fact, he’s the one that wants to take things slow. He accidentally called me the other day and hung up from jitters.” Robyn didn’t need to know the full truth.

“The jitters?” Robyn queried.

“Yeah. I even called him back, but he let it go to voicemail.”

“Then, he must be weird or ugly.”

You grimaced at her assumption. “Ew, Robbie. Don’t be gross,” you chastised. “He’s the opposite of ugly. I might even go as far as to call him handsome.”

“How? You don’t know what he looks like,” Robyn questioned.

You took a quick sip of your drink, holding up a finger. “Au, contraire mon frère. He sent me a selfie in the very beginning.”

Robyn looked at you, perplexed. “You know you just called me your brother, right?”

You waved a hand at her to dismiss her accusation. “Ma soeur just doesn’t have the same ring to it.” You pulled your phone out to offer proof.

“You can barely see his face!” she exclaimed. “What if he’s horribly disfigured on the other side? Or missing an arm?”

You shrugged. “Then, he’s missing an arm.” You got a distant look in your eyes as you recalled the last ten days of texting with James. “He’s different, Robbie. He’s smart and funny and caring. Polite. It feels like he has an old soul. He calls me doll for chrissakes!”

“Are you sure he isn’t some crusty, old man?” Robyn gagged at the thought.

“No, I don’t,” you chuckled in response. The faraway look returned after a moment. “To me, he’s just James.”

Realization dawned on Robyn’s face, lighting her up like a light bulb. “Oh, my god. You like him.”

“Well, yeah,” you acknowledged, “he’s my friend.”

“No. You like him like him.”

Your face reddened quickly with the awareness of your feelings. They weren’t real, were they? Shaking your head, you replied, ”Nothing will happen, Robbie. It’s just a crush.”

Skeptically, she agreed, “Uh-huh.”

“What?”

“I believe that as much as I welcome a cold sore on my wedding day.” She scrunched her nose at the thought of a gross, red blemish on her face for her big day.

“Fine,” you acquiesced. “If I fall head over heels, madly in love with James by your wedding day, I’ll owe you a hundred bucks.”

Robyn raised a sculpted brow in interest. “I’m listening.”

“One hundred dollars. End of negotiation,” you stated. “I don’t have a spare hundred bucks, so it will be a motivator not to fall for James. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy.”

She smiled smugly, shaking her head in disbelief. “Uh-huh.”

“Will you stop saying that?” you said, throwing a piece of lettuce at her face. “You definitely sound like Mom.”

Robyn huffed in annoyance, back-handing your shoulder softly. “Shuddup! I do not!”

You chortled heartily at the mini tantrum she was throwing about becoming Mom. You’d say anything at this point to get her to forget about you and James.

In all honesty, there was no you and James. Not really. You were friends, but could you move past that?

He was hiding something.

Something big.

And it wasn’t part of the whole “man of mystery” persona, either. James was holding back.

He had a hard time giving up anything personal to you that went beyond his likes and dislikes, which led you to believe he had found it difficult to trust.

It angered you deeply without really knowing why. Something in his past had sparked the inability. You only wish you knew what.

Deep down, you could really see yourself falling for James, and that scared you to death.

Breaking you from your reverie, Robyn piped up, “You know, James is probably jerking off to your voicemail.”

“Oh, absolutely!” you retorted, both of you dissolving into a giggling fit.

After leaving Robyn with a clear choice for centerpieces, you made your way back home. After a fifty-minute subway ride, you popped into the corner bodega for some essentials for the coming week.

Sauntering up the stairs to your third-floor walk-up, you steadied your armful of groceries with each step. It had been a long week, and now with the revelation of how you felt about James clouding your mind, a glass of wine, ice cream, and a bubble bath sounded good right about now.

You could barely see over the bags and juggled them precariously. As you stepped onto your floor, you recognized the voice of your next-door neighbor down the hall. He was talking with someone, but you couldn’t tell with whom or what about.

Blindly, you called out, “Hey, Peter? Can you be a lifesaver and help a neighbor out?” You heard the scuffle of footsteps over tile rush toward you.

Sighing in relief, you relinquished two bags to the arms reaching out. “Thanks, Pete! You’re a pe-”

You stopped mid-sentence when your view was finally cleared. Your sixteen-year-old neighbor wasn’t standing before you but a tall man with chestnut hair tied in a knot. Your lips parted slightly as your eyes widened to take in the figure’s full breadth holding your groceries.

Your eyes flicked to Peter as everything came back to focus. He was adjusting your other two bags in his arms.

“Miss (Y/L/N), this is Mr. Barnes from my Stark internship. He’s a friend. He was helping me with some history homework,” Peter explained, gesturing to the hulking man standing outside your apartment door.

“Peter,” you admonished, “how many times-” Last names weren’t meant to be spoken by friends slash neighbors.

Peter winced. “Right! Sorry, (Y/N)!” he apologized. “This is Bucky.”

Recognition crossed your face at the name. Smiling, you stuck out your hand in front of you. “Bucky Barnes, it’s nice to meet you.”

Bucky shifted one of your bags in his arms to reach out his hand. He smiled softly, “ Li-likewise.”

Chapter Three | Chapter Five

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#drunk texting is(n't) bad for your health #dtibfyh #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fanfiction #bucky fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic

219 notes · View notes

kireijae · 3 years

Text

rock, paper, scissors- n.jm

summary: some cute cabin weekend fluff!

genre: best friends to lovers au, fluff, humor

warnings: swearing, mention of throw up

words: 2,496

a/n: i’ve read quite a few like cabin weekend fics and so i thought i’d write my own! also i definitely don’t think hyuck would act like this irl i just needed some crack energy in this thing.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

You huffed as you opened the creaky wooden door to the cabin. The air inside was slightly musty and all the windows and curtains were closed upon first glance.

You dragged yours and Haechan’s luggage (he’d won one of the rounds of rock paper scissors in the car ride over) into the cabin, setting it down on the first surface you found.

You turned around to find a very pale looking Haechan who was standing in the doorway, “You look like shit.”

“I breathed,” Haechan whined and pathetically stomped his foot on the ground, “But to be honest I do feel horrible.”

“Yeah, it’s from the fucking milk you drank,” came Jaemin’s voice from the doorway behind Haechan, “I told you not to drink the random milk you found in my car.”

“I lost rock, paper, scissors! I had to do it!”

“You suggested it, though,” you quipped, opening the curtains in the living room, “I told you it was a bad idea. And now you’re going to be sick the rest of the trip.”

“You sound like my mom,” Haechan retorted, lying down on the old brown couch, face squished against the leather.

“Yeah, I feel like her too,” you said, brows furrowing as you looked out the window, “Guys I think that storm is gonna be worse than they said...”

“Hm?” Jaemin made his way behind you to look out the window as well. The clouds were dark and sagging on the horizon and the wind seemed to be picking up fast.

“I’ll tell the others not to come unless we say so, they might get caught in the storm,” said Jaemin, his eyes still trained on the clouds as he pulled his phone out of his pocket.

“Eomma! We’re gonna die in here!” wailed Haechan, a smile immediately replacing the distressed look on his face when you glared at him.

“You said this place had a backup generator,” you said, sitting down on the couch next to him.

“It does, my grandma had someone around here come make sure it was working the other day,” as soon as Haechan finished his sentence his face scrunched up in disgust.

“You are not about to throw u-“

Haechan interrupted Jaemin’s words when he jumped up and ran down the corridor to what you assumed was the bathroom.

Jaemin tried to hide the giant smile that was pushing at his lips as you facepalmed.

“Why did you have that milk in your car anyway?” you looked up at him in question.

“Well it was strawberry flavoured, so I’m pretty sure it’s not even mine,” Jaemin said seriously.

You sighed and stood up to go check on Haechan. You found him lying starfish on a bed in the only room with an ensuite bathroom.

“You okay now?” you asked, sitting beside him and placing your hand on his forehead.

“I think the milk was a bad idea,” he said, not looking you in the eyes.

“Yeah, bub, I think so too,” you tried your hardest not to laugh at him, “Get under the covers I’ll bring you some water.”

After getting Haechan some water and finding him asleep when you got back, you and Jaemin settled in, each choosing the last two rooms with a double bed.

It was 7pm and the storm had already started knocking at the windows of the cabin. Your nerves were beginning to shake and gitter along with the trees outside. You tried to calm yourself down by watching some videos on your phone, but when a knock came from the door to your room, you jumped.

“Y/n?” you saw Jaemin’s wide eyes and glossy black hair peaking out from behind the door, “Will you help me make the bibimbap?”

You felt your heart beating in your chest from the fright you’d gotten, “Yeah sure, what do you need me to do?”

The two of you walked down the passage together, “Just cut up the vegetables for me, please?”

Soon the kitchen was filled with sizzling sounds and light music waving through the air, as well as the occasional and odd sound effects made by Jaemin. All of it was enough to distract you from the wailing of the wind outside.

You were in the middle of cutting the cucumber when Jaemin spoke up without turning away from the stove, “Taste this?”

You stood up and rounded the counter to stand next to him, he turned to you and held the metal chopsticks out, the meat balancing precariously between them, and he cupped his hand below it.

You ate it and smiled, eyes glossy from the slight heat of it. His food always was your favourite.

“Good?” he asked, eyes wide and his eyebrows knitted together in worry.

“Very, very good,” you said once you swallowed the food.

He smiled at you, the frown melting from his brow. His cheeks were slightly rosey from the heat of the stove and you could see how long his eyelashes were. It suddenly hit you that you were staring at him and you were standing way too close for comfort.

You couldn’t bring yourself to move, though, you’d never realised how much you liked looking at him until now. Your heart fluttered when you saw his gaze drop down from your eyes to your lips like a small child unhesitatingly jumping off a rock at the beach.

You were about to inch closer to him until a loud crack made your body almost cave in on itself from fright. Your hands came near your face in fists and your eyes were crinkled shut.

You felt Jaemin’s arms wrap around you and he pulled you to him in order to calm you down.

“Scared of storms?” there was no judgement in his voice, only warmth.

“Not usually- just when the windows start to shake,” you huffed out a small laugh against the material of his shirt.

“Hey, it’s okay, I got a fright too,” he said as his hand went to stroke your hair. Then after a beat, “I think the food’s about ready.”

You took that as your cue to let go of his waist which you hadn’t realised you’d wound your arms around, but not before he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head.

Once he’d dished up the food, you took a bowl of it to the room Haechan was in, but turned around when you heard loud snores before you even opened the door.

“Still asleep?” asked Jaemin from his place on the couch, bowl in hand.

“Yup, and snoring. Very loudly,” you laughed and took your seat next to Jaemin.

The two of you ate in a comfortable silence, a random cooking show mumbling away on the tv in front of you.

After you’d both finished your food, you put on a movie you’d been wanting to watch for a while and Jaemin got some musty smelling blankets from a cupboard in the passage.

It was about 11pm when you started to drift off, you and Jaemin had wound up entangled together under the blankets. Your head had dropped down onto his shoulder and your eyelids were growing heavy.

Jaemin turned his head to the side when he felt you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck. His soft chuckle woke you up, the bobbing of his shoulder being enough to catch your attention.

You opened your eyes lazily and felt your pupils adjust to the dark room, only to be met with Jaemin’s features mere inches from yours. The left side of his face had dancing lights and colours from the tv and the right was shaded in darkness. You had no more time to take in the view, though, because suddenly his lips met with yours lightly.

That had you wide awake. Your heart surged upwards in your chest and you reached for his soft cheek to bring him closer to you.

After a measly few seconds, the kiss was interrupted, much to your distaste, by the loud sounds of Haechan grumbling and dragging his feet down the passage.

The two of you pulled away from the kiss and from each other, you scooted as far away from him as you could. The scene was almost comical; the blanket you still shared had been pulled taut between the two of you.

“Did you leave any food for me?” Haechan asked in a half asleep daze.

Your chest was heaving and you didn’t trust your voice to answer for you, so you pointed behind him to the fridge in the kitchen in answer.

You were wide eyed as you gazed back at the tv, body rigid with your arms shrunken into your sides. You heard a light snort from next to you which prompted your head to look in Jaemin’s direction.

He was facing the tv, his oversized grey hoodie bunched around his torso and arms and his heart melting smile etched onto his face.

For the past few months you’d liked that smile a little too much- you’d liked everything about him a little too much. The thought of him possibly feeling the same brought even more blood to your already red cheeks.

“Scootch over,” Haechan’s voice pierced the little bubble you’d been in.

You made a dissatisfied face and moved back towards Jaemin again and when you placed your hand next to his leg in order to support your moving body, you felt his arm come around your shoulders. You cast your eyes down to the leather material of the couch and felt your cheeks warm up again.

Haechan paid Jaemin’s actions no mind; skinship being something you shared often with your whole group. His face was also practically buried in the bowl of food and only lifted when he heard a particularly loud gust of wind hit the window across from him.

Soon enough the adrenaline in your body dissipated and you began to fall asleep on Jaemin’s shoulder again.

“I think you should take her to bed,” Haechan whisper-yelled when he noticed you weren’t making comments on the movie anymore.

“And what about you?” came Jaemin’s voice from above you. The sound mixed with the slight rumble of his voice in his chest made you stir again.

“I just had a milk-induced coma,” was the next thing you heard from Haechan. He said it in a flat tone and it made Jaemin’s chest bubble beneath you in laughter.

“Nae sarang,” the term of endearment made you open your eyes again- more due to shock than from waking up. “It’s pretty late, I think we should both sleep.”

You nodded wordlessly and stood up, Jaemin catching the blanket that fell from your lap.

“G’night, Haechannie,” you said as you passed in front of him, ruffling his hair with your hand.

“Mm,” he hummed, “Sleep well.”

You wished him a good night’s sleep as well and walked towards the passage, but stopped when you heard Jaemin cooing at the other boy, “Haechannie! Are you feeling better now after your naptime? Saranghae- Ow!”

You giggled at the sight of Haechan manoeuvring Jaemin back onto the couch and sitting on the poor boy. After pulling them apart, you proceeded to your room where you got changed into pyjamas and lay down under the covers.

There was one problem now, though, despite the decent quality mattress and the perfect temperature of the room, you couldn’t seem to fall asleep. The storm outside was still raging and your fear of it kept you up, staring at the ceiling for goodness knows how long.

There was a tug in your heart for comfort. The kind of comfort you’d felt earlier in front of the tv with Jaemin, and before that in the kitchen and months ago when he’d held your hands when you said they were cold. You sighed at the feelings and memories, deciding your pride was far less important than your need for comfort.

Soon you found yourself standing outside Jaemin’s room, your hand knocking on the door before you could think better of it.

You heard a soft “hello?” from the other side and slowly peaked your head into the dark room. You were surprised to see Jaemin’s phone lighting up his features in a blue hue, his hair was a fluffy mess on his head and he was resting with his head half way down the headboard.

He looked at you with his big eyes and you nearly melted, “I couldn’t sleep. The storm is…” you trailed off, not wanting to admit to being afraid.

Without a word, Jaemin lifted up one side of the blanket to welcome you. You smiled a small smile and crawled under the covers, your head instinctually resting on Jaemin’s arm. He wrapped his arm around you and pulled you close.

You felt him lean over to put his phone on the nightstand and shuffle down in the bed to lay his head on the pillow.

“Comfy?” he asked, voice light and feathery.

You hummed in response, your heartbeat and breathing had already slowed down enough for you to begin dozing off for the third time that night.

—

“We leave them alone for one night…” was the first thing you heard the next morning. It took a moment for you to register that it was Jeno, standing in the doorway wearing a thick black coat.

“When did you get here?” came Jaemin’s voice from behind you, you could hear that his face was scrunched from stretching.

“Hyuck called me last night after the storm calmed down,” Jeno leaned on the wall, looking at Jaemin.

“What time was that?” you asked, finally able to understand your own thoughts.

“At like 12,” said Renjun, head popping into the room before the rest of him followed.

“Junnie!” you yelled, holding your arms out to him and making grabby hands.

Renjun practically ran and fell backwards onto you, you put your arms around him and squeezed.

“Who’s making breakfast?” asked Jaemin, his arms completely removed from you now.

“Rock, paper, scissors?” you suggested, raising your eyebrows at him in question.

He nodded, “Rock, paper, scissors!”

It took a few tries, but eventually you and Renjun lost and decided to cook together.

“I’m guessing you haven’t gotten over your little crush on Jaemin?” asked Renjun as he cracked eggs into a pan.

It was just the two of you in the kitchen, everyone else either unpacking or playing switch in the lounge.

“I don’t think I have to,” you mumbled, cutting up tofu, “He kissed me last night.”

Renjun turned around in shock, but before he could answer you heard your name being called.

“I’ll tell you the details later, Jun,” you got up from your place at the counter and peeked out the kitchen and into the lounge, where Mark sat in horror looking at Haechan.

He then turned to you, eyes wide and mouth half open, “He drank fucking what?!”

if you enjoyed this, buy me a ko-fi!

#nct #nct dream #nct imagines #nct x reader #nct dream imagines #nct dream x reader #na jaemin #jaemin #jaemin na #jaemin x reader #jaemin imagines #jaemin x you #na jaemin x reader #na jaemin imagines #na jaemin fluff #jaemin fluff

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thosewickedlovelies · 3 years

Text

Into the Woods: chapter 1 | Frankie Morales x GN!Reader

Summary: Neither you nor Frankie are expecting to run into anyone in the middle of the woods.

Tags: none!! all audiences!

Word Count: 3,054

Note: HE’S HERE!!! Please enjoy the official first installment of the outdoors insta frankie series 🌳📷😍 So much love to the wonderful @yoditorian for coming up with this concept and Frankie’s IG name, and also helping me brainstorm 💗💗💗

Backstory

---

Francisco Morales loves this shit. Walking for hours without seeing another soul, nothing to think about but where to place his feet on the path ahead of him. Assuming he’s following a path at all. These are his woods- the country surrounding the house he’s lived in for years, a place just shy of isolated from the nearest town. They’re not really his, legally. He’s not exactly sure what the rules of land designation entail, but it’s not a national park, and no one has ever chased him up about the occasional wood-chopping or campfire-building he does.

So he walks.

It’s a damn perfect day for it, too. Brilliantly sunny with a hint of breeze, rustling the greenery around him and carrying the scents of sun-warmed leaves and late summer flowers. The birds are in high spirits, their vibrant chirping filling the air with chatter. Screeches of alarm, sometimes, too- a side effect of hiking with a giant energetic dog. Frankie watches ruefully as Oso crashes off into the undergrowth again, doubtless chasing down some poor creature.

He slows his pace to wait for her, taking the opportunity for a water break. His heavy pack thuds to the ground. Frankie grunts as he stretches, rotating his shoulders and flapping his sweaty t-shirt away from his back. I should really hike along the river more often, he muses. He doesn’t mind working up a sweat (obviously), but a ready supply of cool water during a long hike does wonders for one’s well-being.

“Boof!” Oso’s deep bark as she returns brings Frankie’s attention to her.

“Yeah? Would you like that, too? A nice swim in the river to cool you down?” He crouches to ruffle her neck fur the way she likes. Oso only pants in answer, blinking at him adoringly.

She slurps thirstily as Frankie pours some water from his bottle into her mouth. He chuckles. “Don’t worry, Osita, we’ll be near some water soon.”

Their goal today is a small pond Frankie had only found earlier this year. It’s a good spot for his campfire cooking, as well as endlessly photogenic. This is marginally important to him, as he attempts to keep a regular diary of his wanderings through instagram. It’s mostly for fun, but like anyone else, he isn’t immune to the particular buzz from his posts unexpectedly getting a high number of likes.

But he had also discovered that he wasn’t the only one with this hobby. There were whole communities of people out there who found peace the same way he did, and they happily gave advice if ever he posted about a struggle.

Frankie pauses again a short way away from the pond to make sure he’s on course. Oso sniffs around excitedly, bounding off again while Frankie checks his GPS. “Huh.” Looking around, he laughs at himself a little when it tells him he’s almost walked past it. He rotates to his left and thinks he spots the telltale gap in the trees ahead. He tucks the GPS away.

Oso barks from somewhere ahead of him. A split second later, a human yelp sounds from the same direction. His eyes widen.

“Shit!” Frankie breaks into a run. In all the years he’s been out here, he rarely sees other people this far from the trails. “Oso!” he yells. “Here, girl!”

Oso isn’t aggressive (unless the situation warrants it), but whatever new friend she thinks she’s meeting won’t know that. Frankie races toward where he judges the noise came from, heart pounding. He bursts through some bushes and is almost knocked down by his beast jumping up to greet him.

“Hey, girl, who was- no!” Oso peels away again across a bit of clear ground, her collar slipping through Frankie’s fingers. He’s barreling toward where her tail wags from behind a bush, when you stand.

Frankie skids to a stop so abruptly his feet slide out from under him. His ass hits the ground with a thud, his rucksack taking only part of the fall. He scrambles upright gracelessly, clumsy with the weight on his back, never taking his eyes off of you.

You stare at each other.

Nothing about this moment feels real to Frankie- you could announce that you’re the dryad who rules this forest and he would believe you, that’s how unlikely your appearance is. Shifting sunbeams dapple your skin, and even from several feet away he can tell that you have the most striking eyes he’s ever seen.

For a second your gaze flicks down to the side. You lean slightly as if something has nudged you, and as you move your hand away from it Frankie realizes you’re holding something.

Shit. He returns to his senses. Is that a weapon?

He’s met people on the trails before, most of them harmless fellow hikers. But occasionally there are some with weird vibes, especially the farther away from the paths you got. He’s fully capable of defending himself, but that doesn’t mean he wants to have to.

“Oso! Here!” Frankie says sternly. Your expression doesn’t change as you watch the dog trot over to him. Jaw set, wide eyes tracking his every motion.

He supposes he can’t blame you for being wary. Or armed. It’s a perfectly reasonable response to running into a strange man in the middle of the woods. He knows he’s not exactly the picture of reassurance. Tall and broad, probably too sweaty to believably claim he’s on a casual hike. He decides to speak.

“Sorry to startle you.” Frankie keeps his hands by his sides where you can see them, resting one on Oso’s head. “I wasn’t expecting to see anyone this far from the trails.”

Your tense stance doesn’t relax. “Me either.”

His head tips to the side. “Do you come to this area regularly, then?” He tries to keep his voice slow and soothing.

He can see you assessing him, trying to measure how safe he is. “I have been recently. What about you?”

“All the time. Me and Oso take nice long walks.” Frankie pats the dog’s head in a more formal introduction. “I like to come out here and cook.” Your brow furrows at that, bemusement appearing amidst your guarded features. Before you can respond, he prompts “What are you doing this far off the main paths?”

“Foraging. You come all the way out here to cook?” Disbelief is etched in every line of your face.

Well, when you say it like that.

Foraging. That makes perfect sense. Frankie follows a few of them on instagram. He’s always pleased when he notices the more obvious edible plants and berries, but it’s not usually his focus. His vegetable garden at home takes up most of his efforts. It’s managed to thrive in the years since he started it after leaving the army, and it’s become a source of pride for him to be able to wander out, pick some things for the day’s meal, and head right into the woods.

“Yeah,” he responds. “Here, I can show you. I keep an instagram.”

Your eyebrows rise even higher at that.

Moving slowly and watching for your reaction, Frankie holds his hands up as he turns, keeping one in the air while the other makes a show of tugging his phone from a side pocket of his pack. He keeps the screen visible as he opens the app, then pulls his arm back in the beginning of an underhanded throw. Poised as such, he looks at you expectantly.

Now you’re almost frowning. Clearly still suspicious, but possibly fractionally less concerned about danger from a man willing to give his phone to a complete stranger in the woods. Hesitantly, you raise your hands to catch it.

Finally Frankie can make out that the thing in your hand in a canister of mace. The sight inexplicably relieves him. Pepper spray is a normal person’s defense, something that anyone might carry to help themselves feel safe. Far from the kind of weapon he would fear from someone angling for true violence.

All of this decided in the space of a second, Frankie gently tosses you his phone.

You’re so distracted by delighting in the prolific blackberry bushes which surround your pond that you don’t hear the approaching creature until it’s upon you.

You screech in shock at the massive fur-thing’s appearance, bowling you over from your crouch. It doesn’t seem bothered about wanting you to pet it, only wiggling and sniffing at you enthusiastically. You register the collar around its neck at the same you hear the shout.

“Oso!” That must be its name. “Here, girl!” The dog dashes away, then back, clearly torn about leaving her new friend so soon.

Icy adrenaline douses your system. That was a man’s voice, rough and cavernous. Who knows what kind of person he could be, no matter the earnestness of his dog? Your hands shake as you rip open your bag for the canister of mace you’ve never had to use.

There’s a pronounced rustle and then his voice sounds again, terrifyingly close. “Hey, girl, who was- no!”

Shit. The dog is back, looking at you eagerly, rear in the air and tail wagging like this is an exciting game. You have to choose a course of action quickly. Twisting the safety off the pepper spray, you rise to your feet.

His reaction is almost funny; you think you might have laughed if this was literally any other scenario. Like a cartoon character slipping on a banana peel, the man wrenches himself to a stop with such force his feet fly up from the ground. The contents of his bulging pack crunch against the earth, but he barely seems to notice he’s fallen, keeping his eyes on yours the entire time he cycles back to his feet.

You stare at each other.

That’s a man all right. Towering even from this distance, with wide shoulders that help the impression. His eyes are round and stunned, the cap on his head knocked slightly askew and freeing sweat-dark curls to spring around his ears.

Your first thought is that he looks warm. Not temperature warm, although the gleam of sweat on his neck confirms that, too. But approachable warm. There’s a softness to his body that belies the muscle his motions highlight, creases around his eyes that wrinkle brown like tree bark in the sun.

Then his dog noses your thigh, reminding you that you have pepper spray in your hand because you’re in the middle of the damn woods with a potentially threating stranger. You risk a half-second glance down to move the canister away from her face.

You regard the man with stony distrust, fear flushing your face and neck with heat. Confrontation makes the blood roar in your ears, but it gradually quiets as he orders the creature away from you. For several more seconds the only sound is rustling leaves.

He clears his throat. “Sorry to startle you,” he says. “I wasn’t expecting to see anyone this far from the trails.”

His voice doesn’t sound as harsh now that he’s not frantically shouting for his dog. Still you keep your answer short. “Me either.”

His head tilts inquisitively. “Do you come to this area regularly, then?”

That’s a fair question. He has a right to be curious too. “I have been recently. What about you?”

“All the time. Me and Oso take nice long walks.” The man pats her head, and the dog’s ears perk up. “I like to come out here and cook.” Wait, what? Before you have a chance to process that, he continues. “What are you doing this far off the main paths?”

You won’t be deterred. “Foraging. You come all the way out here to cook?” If this is some elaborate murder setup, that’s not a very plausible lie.

“Yeah,” he answers. “Here, I can show you. I keep an instagram.”

You’re slightly more skeptical than fearful now. You watch silently as the man turns in place, putting the side of his backpack in your line of sight so you can see him fish his phone out. He makes his actions slow and obvious. The white background of an instagram page glows on the screen as he retracts his arm in a throwing pose. Clear eyes meet yours.

What? This guy is just going to...give you his phone, no questions asked? Taken aback, you can feel the deep grooves of a frown between your eyebrows as you consider.

You’re hesitant to reveal the pepper spray, but if there’s still some possibility this is a trick, he might second-guess attacking you if he sees you’re armed. You ready yourself for a catch.

Which you accomplish, easily, his toss landing the phone right in your hands. The dog lurches forward, but this time man has a grip on her collar and she’s forced to halt with a whine.

“Sorry, girl. We’re not playing fetch right now, okay? Sit!” The man doesn’t even seem concerned with monitoring you, looking down seriously at his dog as he speaks.

You keep one eye on them as you turn your attention to the screen. Frankieintheforest, reads the username at the top of the page. Just a guy out in the woods, continues his bio. Well, that’s accurate, anyway. Frankie, huh? You spare him another glance, matching various features of him to the ones in his photos. A broad hand here, sturdy hiking boots there. Several glimpses of the same flannel that’s currently tied to the strap of his backpack. His face in a few group shots. You click on an image which shows Oso parading around a yard with a grinning toddler on her back. “Ferocious beast carries away yet another victim,” quips the caption. An involuntary smile tugs at the corner of your mouth.

There are too many photos going too far back for it to be fake. You turn the screen toward him. “Cute kid,” you comment. “Is she yours?”

His eyebrows lift in surprise. “No,” the man half laughs. “My buddy’s. I’m just the godfather.” A small smile softens his face as he takes in the picture.

Being named godfather was nothing to sneeze at. You study the man carefully, keeping your face neutral. He seems genuine, his dog keen and friendly. Dogs were a good judge of character, right? Indicative of the character of their owner? He hasn’t demanded anything from you, not done anything threatening beyond just being here.

You glance between him and the phone again. “Frankie?” you question.

He raises one hand in a wave, directing a crooked sort of smile at you. “That’s me,” Frankie confirms.

You offer him your name in return. “Uh, you can have this back now.” You gesture with the phone.

He brings his hands up to catch it, and you thank every deity you know of when your throw connects. You’re at a bit of a loss for what to do next, however. You suppose this means you’re at a truce. But you still don’t think you’d be able to let yourself focus on foraging while knowing there’s a stranger wandering so nearby.

Frankie seems to be thinking the same thing. One hand rubs over the back of his neck. “Well,” he begins. “My plans for today were to sit by this pond and cook over a fire.” He points his thumb to the right, where not far away the reflection of sunlight on water wavers against the tree trunks.

“You can join me if you want.” He shrugs awkwardly. “I’m just gonna collect some tinder and then park it, so you don’t have to worry about me interrupting your foraging or anything.”

Oso finally wriggles free of his grasp and surges forward, leaping across to you with a triumphant woof! “Oso, no!” Frankie stumbles after her, only to stop after two steps, clearly unwilling to make you uncomfortable by getting too close. He looks on helplessly, hands flexing.

“It’s okay,” you assure him. This time you offer her your free hand to sniff, which she does, before promptly shoving her head beneath it for pets. Amused, you comply. Her multi-hued fur is soft beneath your fingers.

“You’re alright, aren’t you, Oso?” You dart a self-conscious glance back up to her owner, but he appears content to let you coo at his dog.

“She’s a good judge of character,” Frankie says simply.

You swallow. Those deep brown eyes linger over you, and this is all just a bit...much. “Right. Well. I’m just going to…” you ease back, hoping to convey ‘continue going about your business.’

“Oh, sure!” He takes a little hop backward. “I’ll be...here.” His hand makes a small circling motion to indicate a limited nearby area. “You’ll hear me before you see me. Or Oso.”

Frankie frowns slightly as if something has occurred to him. “Uh, she might want to follow you around today though. I can tie her to a tree if that would bother you? I don’t usually watch her too closely,” he admits sheepishly.

“Oh, that’s okay.” You realize that you mean it as your thoughts continue to form. “She’ll make for good protection if I meet any more big scary strangers.” You aim the last words down to the dog herself, sending a wry a sidelong glance to said stranger.

He chuckles again, a rasp of a sound like creaking branches. “That’s fair. But I meant it when I said I’ve never seen anyone else in this particular area. You’re pretty safe.” He punctuates his statement with a nod to the canister still in your hand, soft understanding clear in his face.

Your head ducks slightly. “Well,” you say again. ”I’ll..see you around. I guess.” You don’t wait for a farewell, turning to foist your pack back onto your shoulder. You strain your ears for any noise behind you as you flee, but there’s no sound of pursuit.

“Go ahead. Have fun, Oso,” Frankie calls, already at a distance from your quick pace. There’s a distinctly animal scurrying, and then the dog bursts into being by your side.

Your arms wheel as you jump. “Jeez, you are enormous,” you mumble, pausing to pet her again. Discreetly you look over your shoulder in time to see Frankie turn away from you, heading for your pond.

Post note: I know pepper spray is like, super illegal in the UK and other places, but it’s not abnormal to carry around in the US so just pretend it’s fine.

Taglist: @thirstworldproblemss, @leonieb, @computeringturtle

#frankie morales x reader #francisco catfish morales x reader #triple frontier fic #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #triple frontier #outdoors insta frankie

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