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foundtherightwords · 1 year

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Love in a Mist - Chapter 6

Pairing: Hellcheer Regency AU or Regency!Eddie Munson x OFC (for more info, see A/N of Chapter 1)

Summary: Christine Conyngham, a young debutante whose marital prospects are less than ideal, believes her happiness is secure when she falls in love with Joshua Craven, the handsome future Duke of Hauxwell. However, after her lack of a fortune prevents her and Joshua from marrying, Christine impulsively accepts the proposal of Edward Munson, the eccentric Baron Hurstfield, who is in need of a wife to obtain an inheritance. But with her heart still pining after Joshua, can Christine learn to love her husband and build a life with him?

Series Warnings: sloooooow burn (it's a fucking novel, I'm sorry), angst, suicide attempt, mentions of domestic abuse, some smut in later chapters. Also, my deepest apologies to the people of Yorkshire for the accent and any other details I might have butchered.

Chapter Warnings: mostly fluff, some mutual pining and a bit of anxiety toward the end. Smut is coming though!

Chapter word count: 3.7k

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5

Chapter 6

At last, the dreariness of Hurstfield Hall lessened. Perhaps it was the bright summer sun that chased away the gloom, perhaps it was the garden that kept her mind and her hands busy, or perhaps it was simply the fact that she had gotten used to the house and its people, but Christine no longer felt that life was not worth living.

A sense of familiarity between her and Edward had replaced the awkwardness in the early days of their marriage, so now they could talk, or practice the pianoforte together, or simply sit in easy silence in the parlor. It was only late at night, when she was lying alone in her bed, that some of her old pains returned, though they, too, were more tolerable. With the ring hidden away and her mother no longer mentioning Joshua in her letters, his memories became fainter, like those of a lost love.

Sometimes Christine wondered if Edward would ever want to share her bed again, after their two dreadful failures. Though the shame had faded somewhat, the thought of those nights still made her tense up. What would he do if she was never ready to accept him? Would he fulfill his needs somewhere else? She had heard too many horror stories about unsuspecting wives being confronted by their husbands' mistresses and illegitimate children, or servant girls getting dismissed and farmers' daughters having to flee their home after falling victim to men's beastly "needs", but she knew Edward was too honorable for that. There were couples who had come to an "understanding" and lived separate lives, the husband free to pursue any woman he wished - just look at the Prince and Princess of Wales - but somehow, the idea of Edward having affairs was uncomfortable and distasteful to her.

She caught herself having these thoughts again while they were sitting together in the study, the parlor having been closed off for the time being so a door to the conservatory could be put in. Edward was bending over a drawing of some sort. He kept brushing his hair away from his face, and Christine found her eyes being drawn to his hand, which made her blush, then she got annoyed with herself for blushing.

"Would you consider having a haircut?" she said, after he had to brush his hair back yet again.

"What's the matter with my hair?" Edward looked up, sounding offended.

"Nothing, if you're a tragic hero in one of Mrs. Radcliffe's novels," Christine teased him.

"Perhaps I am," he shot back with a playful grin.

"You're as much a tragic hero as I am a damsel in distress," she said. As he looked down at the drawing, another careless curl fell over his forehead. Without thinking, Christine reached out a hand to brush it back, but before she could touch Edward, there was a crash from outside, followed by Henderson's voice shouting, "Watch it, laddie!" Christine drew back, crossing the treacherous arm across her chest. Her eyes fell on the drawing Edward was perusing and saw that it was a plant for a mill.

"Oh no, please tell me you're not thinking of building a mill as well!" she exclaimed.

"No. Mr. Clarke and I were trying to teach the children about mills, but they don't seem interested."

Mr. Clarke was the schoolmaster that Edward had finally found, an old gentleman born in Hurst itself. He had spent most of his life as an Oxford scholar, but in his late years, had tired of the world of academia and wished to give something back to his home. Now that it was the height of summer and work on the farms wasn't so busy, Edward could focus on his pet project again and spent a lot of time with Mr. Clarke, discussing ways to bring more children to the school. However, attendance was still low. The farmers didn't see much use to schooling, or they would only grudgingly agree to reading and some arithmetic, and the children themselves weren't so enthusiastic either.

"I've brought them some books from the library," Edward said, "but they don't even want to read them."

"Has it occurred to you that you may read too much?" Christine asked.

"Nonsense! How can anyone read too much?" Edward retorted, but he seemed thoughtful.

He disappeared for the rest of the day, though Christine heard him moving about in the attic and calling out for canvas and rods, amongst other things. Having gotten used to his eccentricity by now, she paid no attention to it, not even when Edward drove off in the gig the next day, with two old hobby horses and an armful of what looked like kites or sails on the seat next to him. She supposed they were toys to be given to the schoolchildren. Well, if he thought bribing them with toys would make them more willing to go to school, he would be sorely disappointed.

Later, as her daily walk took her toward the village, Christine suddenly decided to look into the schoolhouse to see if Edward's attempt was a success. She had visited it a few times since Mr. Clarke's arrival, but the children were always so stiff and carefully well-behaved in her presence that she felt rather sorry for them. However, when she arrived at the building, she found it deserted, much to her puzzle. Seeing the vicar outside the church next door, she asked if he knew where the children were.

"Last I saw, Lord Hurstfield and Mr. Clarke were leading them toward the mill," he replied with a sniff to show his disapproval of such unorthodox schooling.

Christine followed the stream that ran alongside the village's main thoroughfare, toward the gray stone mill standing at a bend on the road. Before she arrived, excited shouts and laughs had already reached her above the bubbling of the water.

A strange sight greeted her: on the green outside the mill, several children stood in a row, each holding a pair of sails in their arms and whirling them around, while Edward, riding a hobby horse and brandishing a long stick, took a run at them, followed by another small child with a hobby horse of his own.

"Upon seeing the windmills move, Don Quixote believed them to be giants attacking him," Edward was saying, "and, heedless of the warnings of loyal Sancho Panza, he charged at them at full gallop and drove his lance at them - thus!" At this, he pretended to thrust his stick at one of the sails. The child holding it staggered, but Edward shouted at him in encouragement, "Steady on your feet! And keep moving those sails, you're a windmill! The sail was moving so powerfully that Quixote's lance was shattered and both he and poor Rocinante were swept over the plain - thus..." He flung the stick aside and rolled around on the ground theatrically. The children playing the windmills - and Sancho Panza as well - crowded around him, shouting triumphantly, "We won! We won!" and Mr. Clarke tried in vain to restore some sort of order.

Christine burst out laughing. Edward caught sight of her and looked slightly self-conscious, but he quickly scrambled to his feet, regained his composure, and turned back to the children. "But of course, those were windmills that Quixote was fighting," he said. "This is a water mill. Now, if you want to know how it works, Mr. Clarke will show you..." The children, jumping up and down eagerly, followed Mr. Clarke into the mill, while Edward joined Christine.

"You are quite the actor," she said with a smile.

"That was your suggestion, in fact."

"Was it?"

"Well, you said I might read too much, so that gave me the idea of acting out the story and weaving it into the lessons to make it more interesting to the children. Traditional pedagogues may not approve, but I think it worked."

He was so animated, his eyes bright with excitement, his hair all tousled from tumbling on the ground, that this time Christine didn't hesitate to reach out a gloved hand to brush away the strands stuck to his sweaty forehead. Time seemed to slow as they stood there, her hand on his face, their eyes locked. Edward brought his own hand up to touch her wrist, as if to make sure that her hand was real. She felt his fingers brush the skin just beneath her glove, and shivered. Then Mr. Clarke poked his head out of an upper window of the mill, shouting, "Aren't you going to join us, Lord Hurstfield?", and the spell was broken.

Christine and Edward both dropped their hands and looked up with flushed faces, like two naughty children caught in some mischievous act. Mr. Clarke saw Christine and had the grace to look embarrassed. "Oh, I didn't see ye there, Lady Hurstfield," he said. "Of course, you're welcome to join us as well."

Christine didn't know if she should thank or curse the man.

***

It was almost Michaelmas, and Edward decided to give a feast on that day to celebrate the harvest. The whole village was abuzz with excitement. Christine, who had never attended any village fair, didn't know what to expect, but in the days leading up to it, she had a great time working with the women and children, decorating the village green. Tables were set up, cover with the finest linen cloths, and draped with garlands of wheat and corn and wreaths of Michaelmas daisies. Lanterns were strung between poles topped with more bunches of wheat. A platform was set at one end, hidden behind displays of other choice crops, to serve as seats for the musicians.

Despite being a little shy around Christine at first, the women soon got used to her and even taught her to make corn dollies (she was surprised to learn corn dollies were in fact made out of wheat straw, not corn.) Her dollies were clumsy and lopsided, but the women hung them up amongst the lanterns with all the others just the same. They even gave her a lovely spiral-shaped one. "'Tis for hangin' above th' marriage bed, m'lady, to bring children," they told her and laughed when she blushed.

It had been an unusually warm September, and the day of the feast was even warmer. The sunrise was an angry red. All day, low clouds covered the sky, trapping the heat like a heavy blanket, and the air felt closed. But the rain held off, and the heat didn't let up even as Edward and Christine set out for the village that evening. "Are you all right to drive?" Edward asked when he saw Christine wiping her face with her handkerchief.

"Oh yes." Edward had found an old mare called Starlight, so named for her silvery white coat, and had made another attempt at teaching Christine to ride and drive. Starlight was so gentle that Christine soon learned and now tried to practice whenever she could, though she still preferred walking. "Do you think it is going to rain?"

"Red sky in the morning..." Edward mumbled, looking at the bruised sky with a frown.

"Would it spoil the feast?"

"It's not the feast I'm worried about." He looked to the west again, but said no more.

The green was lit up by the time they arrived. Fire pits had been dug around it for roasting meat, and their flames added to the candles and lanterns burning amongst the decorations that Christine and the village women and children had crafted so lovingly, giving the whole scene the air of a medieval banquet. It was a very informal affair. They had all attended a Thanksgiving service in church that morning, so Edward only said a few brief words to thank everybody for their hard work and start the feast. Christine watched the villagers, all dressed in their Sunday best, as they walked about, talking and laughing, eating and drinking, and realized this was the first time she attended a party where everybody was there to enjoy themselves. There were no judging eyes, no malicious whispering, no ostentatious flaunting, no furtive scheming, just pure, simple pleasure, and she was delighted to be a part of it.

After people had had their fill of the roasted geese, the new bread, pies, cakes, and cider and ale, the tables were pushed further back and the dancing began. A violin, a fife, and a tambourine started up some lively song, and soon people were jumping and twirling and stomping with all their might. Again, Christine was struck by their abandoned joy. At first, not knowing the steps, she was content to just watch and clap along to the music, but then someone drew her into the circle, and she realized there was no need to know the steps. She simply moved to the music and moved with her partner, or partners, for there were no set couples here. Someone took the garlands apart and wove them into wreaths, and put them on all the women. In her sprigged muslin dress and her hair coming loose under its wreath of wheat and daisy, Christine felt like a harvest goddess, freer in her body than ever before.

Edward was also somewhere in that crowd of music and dancing and laughter. Christine almost didn't recognize him at first, for he, too, had changed. He had always been energetic in his movements, but something about the free and easy atmosphere of the feast seemed to make him come alive, and the nervous quirks she often observed in him were gone. It was as if he had to restrain himself to fit into the mold of society and his energy only escaped in little bursts, but here, he could be entirely himself and his vivacity was running free. At some point, the dancing brought them face-to-face, and he laughed and wrapped his arms around her and swung her in a full circle, leaving her breathless. The crowd surged forward, pressing them close together, close enough to touch, then drawing them apart again. She tried to catch sight of him amongst the dazzling glow of the candles and the fires and the frenzied dancing, but saw him no more. She felt like one in a dream, a wild and confusing dream, but exhilarating at the same time.

She was brought back to reality by a flash of lightning which tore the sky apart, followed by a clap of thunder. A child screamed. The music came to a halt, to be replaced by the ruckus of people scrambling to clear up the food and drinks before hurrying home to see to their crops and stock. The fires bent under a cold wind that drove away the sultry air, the horizon lit up with an unnatural glow, and thunder boomed again and again, like the sound of an approaching army.

Christine was helping the women with the tables when she found her arm seized by Edward. "Leave those," he said, both to her and the women. "Take the children home, quickly." As the women went to gather their broods, he hurried Christine to their gig and took the reins.

The rain hit when they were halfway back to Hurstfield Hall, big, fat drops that hurt when they struck bare skin. Edward gave Christine the reins while he put up the hood. Soon the rain was coming down so heavy and fast that they could barely see in front of them, and despite the hood, Christine was getting soaked, from the puddles below as much as from the rain pouring down from above. She found herself having to cower to avoid the worst of the splashing. Without saying a word, Edward wrapped an arm around her waist and drew her close to him, while still keeping a steady hold on the reins with his other hand. Leaning against his shoulder, she looked at him as the lightning illuminated his face in brief flashes, and it seemed to her he had transformed yet again. He was similar to the quiet, calm man that had come to her rescue at Covent Garden, but also different, closer, warmer, and she felt she could trust him with her life.

When they reached Hurstfield, Edward drove around to the back so the horse and gig could be taken to the stable, and they ran under the covered walkway into the house, through the cascades of rain rushing from the roof. For a moment they stood in front of a fire in the hall, panting, water dripping from their hair and clothes, looking as if they had just waded through a flood. Then Edward's eyes traveled downward from Christine's face, and his breathing slowed. She was suddenly aware that her dress was clinging to her body and he was taking it all in, his eyes sending a wave of warmth coursing under her skin. There was no sound, except for the crackling of the fire, their quiet breaths, and the beating of their hearts. Then Christine tentatively lifted a hand, and they moved imperceptibly closer together, as if drawn by a magnet, until she could feel his coat buttons graze her breasts.

Suddenly, the door leading from the kitchen into the hall burst open and one of the footmen rushed in. "Sir, the Ure's risin' fast!" he shouted. "They say 'tis close to overflowin'!"

Edward sprang into action. "How many men do we have?" he asked, getting out of his sodden coat.

"Six, sir."

"We'll call more on the way. Tell them to saddle Warlock, and bring me a change of dry clothes."

"Aye, sir."

As the footman ran out again, Christine grabbed Edward's sleeve. "What's happening?"

"The river's flooding," he said. "The farmers are going to need help bringing their stock to higher grounds."

"Surely you're not thinking of going yourself?"

He gazed at her, conflict running across his face. His lips trembled with almost visible words, then stilled again. "Don't worry" was all he said, before hurrying off.

Christine stood in the hall for a moment longer, not knowing if the tingling of her body was from his touch or merely from the fire on her rain-soaked skin. Then she went to tell the kitchen to prepare some hot drinks and food, knowing the men would need it once they returned, before going upstairs to change her clothes.

***

It rained all night. Christine couldn't sleep, partly from the relentless drumming of the rain on the roof, partly from the fear that plagued her whenever she thought of Edward in the dark and the cold, battling against the unstoppable water. She kept her ears strained for any noise that indicated his return, but she couldn't hear anything over the roar of the deluge. She must have dozed off eventually, because when she opened her eyes next, the windows were gray instead of pitch black, and the candles had burned down into puddles of wax. The rumble of the rain had diminished somewhat, though when she looked out the window, everything was still obscured by a steel-colored curtain. She went into the kitchen, where she found the staff huddled by the fire, looking as bleary-eyed and worried as herself. Only the women and Henderson were left, the able-bodied men having all gone around to the farms to help.

"Any news, Mrs. Wayne?" she asked.

"'twas a fair heavy flood, ma'am," the housekeeper replied. "They said some bridges an' path were washed clean away. 'Tis fortunate th' harvestin' was done and th' crops were safe."

"Seventy years, an' I never seen th' likes," Henderson said, shaking his head still in its customary hat.

"Do you... do you think they will be safe, his lordship and the others?" Christine asked, her voice trembling.

"Aye. The water's high but slowin' now. There's naught to vex thysel' about, m'lady," Mrs. Wayne said soothingly.

"Aye, they'll be safe alright," Henderson chimed in. "If they could get to th' higher pastures in time, that is," he added grimly, ignoring Mrs. Wayne's glare.

Christine went into the parlor, but the solitude made her even more anxious, so she ended up staying in the kitchen with the staff, finding comfort in sharing her fear with them. Midday came and went, the rain lessened to a drizzle, and still there was no sign of the men. Mrs. Wayne tried to force some food on Christine, but her throat felt parched and she couldn't eat.

Around mid-afternoon, there was a shout from the stable. Christine was one of the first to run out. The men were returning, bedraggled and exhausted, but unscathed. Edward wasn't with them.

"Where is his lordship?" she called.

"We dunno, m'lady." It was Will that answered. "He were with us all night. But this mornin', on our way back, he said he'd check on th' Hoppers' farm." The Hoppers were an old couple living by themselves at the foot of the hills. Their farm was out of the way, so it was likely that others might have forgotten them in the chaos of the flash flood. "We thought he might've gone home ahead..."

Before he could finish, there was the sound of hoofbeats, and Warlock, Edward's chestnut stallion, came thundering into the yard. He was foaming and shaking all over, and his saddle was empty.

The sight of the empty saddle sent a shock through Christine. Her heart started pounding when she realized what it could mean, and she began to shake almost as badly as the poor animal. The stable hands, scrambling to hold the horse and calm him down, all turned to her, and the rest of the house staff had gathered around as well, drawn by the commotion. She saw her own fear reflected in their faces. Nobody knew what to do.

"Saddle Starlight for me," she ordered.

"M'lady?" Will piped up, bewildered.

"Saddle her. I'm going to find his lordship."

Chapter 7

#hellcheer #hellcheer fic #hellcheer au #regency au #eddie munson #eddie x chrissy #eddie munson au #eddie munson x oc #joseph quinn #grace van dien #joseph quinn fic #joseph quinn smut

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livingalifeofasimp · 3 years

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☘️𝕲𝖊𝖓𝖘𝖍𝖎𝖓 𝕴𝖒𝖕𝖆𝖈𝖙

𝕴𝖓

🎀𝕴𝖘𝖊𝖐𝖆𝖎 𝕸𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖆🎀

You got teleported into a Novel called Love or Hate, where a villianess of an influencing family gets jealous of people around Crown Prince and tries to kill everyone especially his beloved and meets unfortunate death.

𝔽𝕠𝕣 𝕀𝕟𝕥𝕣𝕠𝕕𝕦𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟

𝕎𝕒𝕥𝕥𝕡𝕒𝕕 𝕒𝕔𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥

Click on the link for more information, If the link doesn't work then please be kind enough to inform me, Thank you💮💮💮

🖤 𝓩𝓱𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓵𝓲

*:･ﾟ♛ ﾟ･:* On getting into the novel as Villianess and not being able to go back to your world you decided to stop going down the path of original Novel Plot but make your own and live a life in luxury away from all the characters. Your first step was to break the engagement with Crown Prince, who was surprised when he heard you say that to him, you were just so in love with him and then after being unconscious for almost a week you decided to break off the engagement.

*:･ﾟ♛ ﾟ･:* Zhongli could not understand why you would do such thing and you knew he will fall in love with the Heroine when she appears, you told your father to annual it, since you understood that the affection holds no value in Crown Prince's eyes, but Zhongli wasn't able to digest this piece of information, when he tries to approach you, you run away, avoid him at any cost, he realizes how important you are to him, so he rejects your request to annual the engagement even after you nearly begged him and promises you that he will cherish you now on, leaving you thinking what went wrong.

*:･ﾟ♛ ﾟ･:* You sat with pen and paper tried to sort everything out, although Crown Prince was trying to win your favor back by sending you gifts, letters and asks for your audience only to get ghosted by you, getting involved with him will give you nothing but a miserable fate, no matter how handsome the Characters are you refused to acknowledge them any further. Now it felt like Zhongli clingys to you more than anything.

💛𝓐𝓮𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻

ﾟ･:*༻*:･ﾟWhen your carriage stopped infront of your state you saw Aether was there waiting for you, he told you that he heard you were trying to annual the engagement, for a minute you forgot how fast news spread in this era, Aether had a happy glow on his face, he told you that you deserve better. At some point you knew that Aether grows distant from Villianess in Novel Plot but the case here was totally different now he invites you or comes to you uninvited.

ﾟ･:*༻*:･ﾟYou don't stop him tho, he became your bestfriend, he taught you horse riding, sword fighting and helped you in all those things you were interested in. Thanks to Aether your bad dancing got better, you always wondered how he never go tired dancing with you, when you step on his foot unintentionally during practices. Physical touches increases slightly, you don't doubt it since it's normal for friends to hug a second more right?

❤️𝓓𝓲𝓵𝓾𝓬

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ Since there was nothing better to do, you started to put your hands on family business and was sent to pay visit to the business partner. To your surprise when you saw Diluc, he looked just like the Novel described him to be, stern, stoic and cold. His presence was intimidating but you had to win this opportunity so you confidently placed your views even when your legs were shaking under the gown you were wearing, you put your hands together and pursued him.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ Diluc seemed so lonely, he had no one to worry about him, just him and his thoughts. So you decided to greet him with smile and ask about if he ate his meals properly because he skipped them for one or two days due to his loads of work, which was bad for his health, if he needed to fight with Crown Prince for Heroine then he should be healthy, so you took care of him while you were staying in his Mansion.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ At first he was wary of you but he eventually warmed up and when Diluc laughed in one of your jokes, you felt grateful to witness that because no one saw him smiling other than Heroine, he looked really beautiful. He said you were way too different than what the rumours described you to be, you were perfect.

💚𝓧𝓲𝓪𝓸

✥ ۪۪۫۫◃ ✤◃ ۪۪۫۫✥ Bandits attached your Carriage, it was difficult to defeat them but with your escort and Aether's sword fighting training it became quite easy, even though you are not much of a sword fighter than Aether but you could protect yourself for once. When Crown Prince heard you were attacked he immediately assigned you his Loyal Knight who later becomes Imperial Knight respected by citizens, to which you obviously rejected but as persistent as he is you were made to accept the Knight for the time being since all the knights in your family are either afraid of you or not want to serve you and you had no fetish with working with someone who is not willing to be with you.

✥ ۪۪۫۫◃ ✤◃ ۪۪۫۫✥Xiao was very quite and skilled Knight so he was very attentive to your needs, and once caughted you, when you tripped on your gown while climbing staircase, due to which he got on his one knees and asked for your forgiveness. It left you speechless why would he do such thing? Ask for punishment instead of a thanks for saving your bones, you couldn't help but ask him, Xiao's answer made you clutch your fingers, he thought you, a noble lady would get disgusted by his touch since he is lowly born.

✥ ۪۪۫۫◃ ✤◃ ۪۪۫۫✥ You asked him to stand, Xiao is your favorite character who suffered so much and was never able to voice his love for Heroine, you holded his hands in yours, ignoring his body flinching and told him how he should not look down on himself, he is equal, everyone is equal since you all are humans and that you cherish him, he put his life to protect you. You said him all those things you wanted to when you read the Novel, not everything really but it left him blushing while you laughed walking ahead of him what a tsundere.

💙𝓚𝓪𝓮𝔂𝓪

☽༓✮･*˚ A handsome Mage Master kept on disturbing you, the smug looking guy who you meet in Local bars when you were out exploring about the Novel world, he helped you with your case to find out the solution to obtain the land for the project with Duke while giving you many riddles that exhausted you but seeing a worried Xiao was worth it when he says I don't care after nagging you for hours.

☽༓✮･*˚ You doubted if this guy was the one of the Male Leads who was owner of Mage tower because he was exceptional handsome, for a side Character to be so good looking is quite rare, but he debuted after the Grand ball so it couldn't be him, you debated. In Original Novel Plot they never described how he looked, but it was for sure he was popular among ladies. The guy introduced himself as Kaeya, who sometimes requests your presence in Mage tower, only VIP guest were allowed and when you asked him how he managed to get the permission he says it is one of his ways, suspicious enough.

☽༓✮･*˚ You eventually spend more time with him than required which sometimes anger Aether since your time with him reduced, of course you haven't told anything about him to anyone. To save himself, he once introduced you to the group of women flirting with him as his girlfriend. Kaeya sends his familiar in butterfly form for the most stupidest message through your window to which you react differently depending on your mood.

"How are you my Lady?"

"Am I allowed to miss you?"

"When will you visit me?"

"Have you been using me all this time?, I am heart broken T_T Heal me!"

🧡𝓒𝓱𝓲𝓵𝓭𝓮

❀⑅*⋆༶⋆❀⑅* Strong hand holded you securely, as you danced with him, who was wearing black laced mask in Masquerade ball organized by King for a yearly festival which you were forced you to attend by your Father and Crown Prince. One of the guys asked for you to dance with him, as per tradition one cannot reject the another requesting party, otherwise you would have been eating the food served for guests, imperial food is on another level, Zhongli sometimes tries to lure you to spend time with him by making such excuses.

❀⑅*⋆༶⋆❀⑅* The stranger pulled you even more closer saying that you are looking much more prettier than before, your first meeting but you did not recognized him or so you thought, and he told you that you are known as the most beautiful woman in the Kingdom, neighboring Kingdoms takes interest in you. You do remember the guy who helped you in fighting with Bandits both of them have the same hair color and playfulness in their voice.

❀⑅*⋆༶⋆❀⑅* When you asked him about it, if he was the guy from before to which he replied maybe, leaving you in the middle of the dance and bended in the crowd, Mysterious as Childe you thought, whoever he was, you hoped for him to not bring more problems than you already have. A groaning voice of Crown Prince from behind made you turn around questioning you why you danced with other guys than your fiance, you never thought a composed man as Zhongli would whine to you for such a small thing.

#genshin impact #yandere genshin impact #yandere x reader #yandere #tumblr #tumblrfeed #yandere story #genshin impact diluc #genshin impact zhongli #genshin impact childe #genshin impact kaeya #genshin impact xiao #genshin impact aether #yandere zhongli x reader #yandere diluc x reader #yandere aether x reader #yandere xiao x reader #yandere childe x reader #yandere kaeya x reader

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beifongsss · 4 years

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the boiling rock [zuko]

Pairing: Zuko x reader

Disclaimer!: The reader is Sokka and Katara’s older sister!

Requested?: Yes! By @thegirlwholikestomanythings: “ Hi! I have a Zuko x reader request if you don't mind. Maybe something like the reader being Katara and Sokka's older sister and Zuko having a big crush on her after he joins in S3?”

Summary: Sokka goes to break Hakoda out of The Boiling Rock and is shocked to find you there as well. He’s even more shocked when he figures out that Zuko’s a simp for you.

this is based off of the boiling rock episodes but there are a few changed made! there’s also like a pov change halfway i’m sorry. TIS A LONG ONE!!

.masterlist.

When Zuko defeated Combustion Man, Aang didn’t let him join the group until he gained approval from all of his friends.

“Toph, you're the one that Zuko burned. What do you think?”

The blind earthbender smirked, a sinister look on her face as she pounded her fist into her palm. “Go ahead and let him join. It'll give me plenty of time to get back at him for burning my feet.”

Satisfied with her answer, Aang turned to the Water Tribe boy. “Sokka?”

“Hey, all I want is to defeat the Fire Lord. If you think this is the way to do it, then, I'm all for it,” he said, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall near him.

“Katara?” Aang asked uncertainly, noticing the stony look on the Water Tribe girl’s face.

“I'll go along with whatever you think is right,” she replied, glaring at Zuko.

“Great!” Aang said, ignoring Katara’s reaction. “Then that’s settled. Welcome to the group Zuko!”

Zuko paused slightly, looking around as he noticed the absence of the other Water Tribe girl he had always seen with the Gaang.

“Not that I’m complaining,” the prince said, a questioning look in his eyes. “But isn’t there someone else you should be asking? Where’s the other Water Tribe girl?”

The group went silent at Zuko’s words as Katara’s face hardened and Sokka looked away, a sad expression making it’s way onto his face.

“She’s gone,” Sokka said roughly as he began to storm off.

Katara reached out for his arm, grabbing onto him as he passed her. “Sokka, it wasn’t your fault.”

“Not my fault?” Sokka roared, stray tears escaping his eyes as he faced Katara. “It was my invasion plan Katara! I should’ve taken the fall. Not her!”

He shrugged her hand off before walking off deeper into the Air Temple. Katara sent Zuko another glare before hurrying after her brother, leaving him alone with Aang and Toph. Zuko glanced at Aang uneasily, not wanting to ask about what had happened. With a sigh, Aang sat down looking at Zuko expectantly.

The prince sat down across from Aang as Toph sat to his left, the usually loud-mouthed girl abnormally quiet.

“The other Water Tribe girl that would travel with us is (Y/N),” Aang explained quietly. “She’s Sokka and Katara’s older sister.”

Zuko nodded in response before speaking. “W-What happened to her?”

“She got captured by the Fire Nation on the Day of Black Sun,” Aang replied, looking down at his lap. “You know about the invasion right?”

Zuko nodded once more.

“Well it was Sokka’s invasion plan,” Aang continued. Zuko’s eyebrows rose up in surprise, going unnoticed by Aang. “He came up with it and (Y/N) and Hakoda, that’s their dad, fine tuned it. They thought of everything that could possibly go wrong and when the day came, Sokka was the one leading it.”

Aang’s face suddenly turned into one full of guilt. “I-It was actually my fault that she got captured. If I hadn’t gotten distracted by Azula, we could’ve gotten away before the eclipse was over. Instead, they caught up to us before we could get back to the beach. Hakoda told us all to leave on Appa and to take the youngest members of the group but (Y/N) didn’t fit because we had Teo, Haru, and The Duke with us. So she decided to stay behind and take the blame for the invasion so that they wouldn’t go out and look for us. She said that they’d believe her because she was traveling with the Avatar and because she was the daughter of the Chief of the Southern Water Tribe and she had a reason to want to attack the Fire Nation.”

Aang couldn’t stop the tear that slipped out. “I guess she was right because we weren’t followed after we escaped.”

“C’mon Twinkletoes,” Toph said, leaning back on her hands. “(Y/N) knew what she was getting into. She’s not dumb. She’s strong, smart, and patient. In fact, I’m willing to bet she’s making those Fire Nation guard’s lives hell.”

Zuko observed Toph as she spoke about the missing Water Tribe girl. “How are you so sure?”

“Please,” Toph scoffed, cracking her knuckles. “She’s the only idiot here that can beat me in a fight. She’ll be fine.”

“Oh,” Zuko said, slightly surprised. “Is she a waterbender too?”

“Nope,” Toph said. “That’s how I know she’s okay. She can beat me in a fight, and I’m the greatest earthbender in the world! I invented metalbending.”

Zuko’s eyebrows shot up in surprise at Toph’s words. “She beat you without any bending?”

“She did,” Sokka’s voice rang out. The group (except Toph) turned around to find Sokka walking towards them. “Which is why we needed her here, not in prison. She shouldn’t be paying for my mistakes.”

Without another word Sokka climbed onto Appa, shooting Aang a look when the Air Nomad shot him a worried glance. “Don’t worry Aang. I’m just gonna clear my head. Yip yip.”

The conversation ended with Sokka’s departure and silently, Aang showed Zuko to his room.

“Hey, can I talk to you for a second?” Sokka asked, catching Zuko’s attention as he handed him a cup of tea. Zuko set down the tea and followed Sokka to where he was standing, softly petting Appa when he opened his eyes to look at them.

“So, what’s up?” Zuko asked, looking back over at the group before focusing on Sokka.

“If someone was captured by the Fire Nation, where would they be taken?” the Water Tribe boy asked, trying to look nonchalant. At Zuko’s suspicious look, he spoke again. “When the invasion plan failed, some of our troops were taken. I just want to know where they might be.”

“We both know this is about your sister, Sokka,” Zuko replied. “I can’t tell you.”

“What? Why not?” Sokka asked, mildly irritated.

“Trust me,” Zuko said, turning to leave. “Knowing will just make you feel worse.”

“It’s not just about (Y/N)!” Sokka hissed, causing Zuko to stop in his tracks. “It’s my dad. He was captured too. I need to know what I put them through.”

“It’s not good Sokka,” the prince replied, not meeting his eyes.

“Please.”

Sighing deeply, Zuko gave in. “My guess is, they were taken to The Boiling Rock.”

“What’s that?”

“The highest security prison in the Fire Nation,” Zuko ignored Sokka’s horrified look. “It's on an island in the middle of a boiling lake. It's inescapable.”

“So,” Sokka said, trying to appear indifferent. “Where is this place?”

“Why do you need to know?” Zuko asked, eyes narrowing. “What are you planning?”

“Nothing!” Sokka tried reassuring the prince. “Boy, you’re so paranoid.”

Zuko rolled his eyes before replying. “It's in the middle of a volcano between here and the Fire Nation. You guys actually flew right past it on your way here.”

“Thanks Zuko,” Sokka said before letting out a very fake yawn as he stretched. “Just knowing makes me feel better.”

“Sure it does,” Zuko scoffed, watching the Water Tribe boy walk away. Noticing that everyone was getting ready to go to bed, he stealthily climbed up onto Appa’s saddle, gently shushing the sky bison when he once again opened his eyes.

At this moment, Zuko sort of regretted joining Sokka on his journey. After having successfully convinced him to take his war balloon instead of Appa, the two boys found themselves existing in awkward silence.

“Pretty clouds,” Sokka spoke first, slightly startling Zuko.

“Yeah...fluffy,” the Fire Nation prince replied before focusing on the fire again. Sokka began whistling casually, drawing Zuko’s attention. “What?”

“What?” Sokka asked, the awkwardness between the two boys palpable. “Oh, I didn't say anything. You know, a friend of mine actually designed these war balloons.”

“No kidding,” Zuko said with slight surprise.

“Yep. A balloon...but for war,” came the other boy’s reply.

“If there's one thing my dad's good at, it's war.”

“Yeah, it seems to run in the family.”

“Hey, hold on,” Zuko said, slightly offended. “Not everyone in my family is like that.”

“I know, I know,” Sokka replied, hands raised in defense. “You’ve changed.”

“I meant my uncle. He was more of a father to me. And I really let him down.”

“I think your uncle would be proud of you,” Sokka said, looking at Zuko intently. “Leaving your home to come help us? That's hard.”

“It wasn’t that hard.”

“Really?” Sokka asked in disbelief. “You didn't leave behind anyone you cared about?”

“Well I did have a girlfriend,” Zuko replied, smiling slightly. “Mai.”

“That gloomy girl who sighs a lot?” Sokka asked, trying to hold back his smile.

“Yeah. Everyone in the Fire Nation thinks I'm a traitor. I couldn't drag her into it,” Zuko explained before hesitating slightly. “Besides, I didn’t truly like her. Trust me, I know that sounds bad. When we were kids we liked each other, but we’re not kids anymore and we’ve both changed and things just weren’t working out.”

Sokka nodded in understanding before crossing his arms. “My first girlfriend turned into the moon.”

Zuko paused for a few seconds, looking up at the moon and wondering if Sokka was being serious before turning to him. “That’s rough buddy.”

Silence ensued again, the scene almost relaxing if it weren’t for the fact that the two of them were heading for the most high-security prison in the Fire Nation.

“So,” Zuko broke the silence, looking at Sokka uncertainly. “What happens if we get there and (Y/N) isn’t there?

The question caught Sokka off guard, causing him to scowl. “She will be.”

“But,” Zuko pressed, trying to make the boy understand. “What if she isn’t?

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” Sokka replied, crossing his arms and looking away as he tried not to think about Zuko’s words.

“Why don’t you just wait until after Aang defeats my father to set everyone free?” Zuko asked softly. “You’d have a much better chance then.”

“You just don’t get it!” Sokka yelled, looking back at Zuko. “See you and your sister might not get along very well but (Y/N) is the most important person in my life. She was the one who took care of me and Katara after our mom died. She was the one who basically led our tribe after the men went off to fight. She always knew what to say and what to do. We need her Zuko. I need her, Katara needs her, Aang definitely needs her, heck even Toph needs her!”

Zuko stayed silent as he focused on the fire, giving Sokka a few minutes to calm down.

“You’re right Sokka,” he finally said. “I don’t get along with Azula. We’ll find her.”

Sokka didn’t reply, instead choosing to look up at the moon, hoping that he had made the right choice.

Soon enough, they had reached The Boiling Rock. Zuko followed after Sokka, a bit disgruntled at the fact that his war balloon had been destroyed. They had somehow managed to get guard uniforms and sneak into the prison, a feat Zuko found impressive considering that Sokka didn’t have a fully thought-out plan.

“I hope these disguises work,” Zuko hissed, shoving Sokka softly with his shoulder.

“We just need to lay low and find (Y/N) and my dad as soon as possible,” Sokka quietly replied, rubbing his shoulder. “Ow!”

“Guards!” another guard ran past Sokka and Zuko, causing them to flinch. “There’s a scuffle in the yard. Come on!”

The two boys exchanged looks before running after the guard, eventually coming to an open space where a guard was harassing a prisoner. The rest of the guards were trying to keep the other prisoners away from the confrontation. Sokka subtly tilted his head, motioning for Zuko to join the other guards. They split up slightly, trying to keep the crowd in control.

“I didn’t do anything,” the prisoner in the middle of the platform stated, walking away from the guard. “I’m going back to my cell.”

“Stop right there Chit Sang,” the guard said, sending a fire whip towards him. “I’ve had it with your unruly behavior.”

One of the prisoners Zuko was trying to hold back began to slip past him and he reached out to grab them. His eyes widened when he made eye contact with the girl, who then promptly proceeded to shove him off of her and onto the ground. Zuko stared at the girl, his heart speeding up slightly and his stomach lurching as she shot him a glare and marched right up to the guard who had created the fire whip.

“Leave him alone!” she growled, stepping in front of Chit Sang. The guard simply laughed before stepping forwards.

“What are you gonna do Water Tribe scum?”

Zuko flinched as Sokka swatted him, tilting his head towards the girl. “That’s her! That’s (Y/N)!”

Sokka grasped Zuko’s arm tightly, knowing that he couldn’t jump to his sister’s defense. The two of them watched in anticipation as the guard shot out a blast of fire, aiming it at you. Zuko’s eyes widened at the sight. You weren’t a bender, you were going to get burned.

His jaw dropped as you gracefully slid underneath the blast before coming up and swatting the guard’s hand away. When the guard tried to aim at you again, you swept your leg in a graceful arc, knocking him down. You were amazing.

“Cuff her!” the guard barked, embarrassment clear on his face as all the other prisoners cheered. Two of the other guards grabbed you roughly, cuffing your hands behind your back and shoving you roughly in front of the guard you had knocked down.

“You think you’re tough, don’t you?” the guard asked. You didn’t look at him.

“Look at me when I speak to you!” the guard screamed. The yard went silent as everyone waited to see what you would do. Slowly, you lifted your head and met the guard’s eyes. His face held a smug expression, which was soon wiped off when you leaned forward and spit in his face.

The yard went wild again, the guards struggling to keep the prisoners under control. The bully guard lunged forwards, gripping your face tightly in his hand. He stared you down for a few seconds before tossing you to the ground. Scowling, he turned to Sokka and Zuko, who seemed to be the only guards not busy at the moment. “You two! Take her to her cell.”

Sokka picked you up and Zuko led them inside, stealing glances at you as you walked. At one point Sokka caught his gaze, giving him a confused look before his eyes widened in realization. He looked between you and Zuko before glaring at the prince and shaking his head furiously. Zuko avoided his gaze after that. They found your cell quickly enough and Sokka softly pushed you in before stepping inside and pulling Zuko with him.

He took off your cuffs easily enough and you stepped away from him, rubbing your wrists gently.

“What do you want?” you snarled, eyes shifting from one guard to another.

“(Y/N)!” one of them cried out, moving towards you. You sidestepped quickly, grabbing his arm and shoving him up against the wall. He groaned in pain as you pulled his arm back.

“What do you want?” you hissed, not taking your eyes off of the other guard.

“(Y/N/N),” the one you were holding squeaked. “It’s me!”

Your eyes widened at the voice and you stepped back, still keeping your hand on the guard’s arm. “Sokka?”

Sokka used his free hand to take off his helmet, a large grin on his face as he turned to look at you. “Yes! It’s m-”

His words were cut off when you yanked on his arm, pulling him close to you as you wrapped your arms around him in a tight hug. Sokka melted into the hug, wrapping his arms around you tightly as he held tears back.

“Spirits,” you whispered, pulling back and looking at your baby brother. “Sokka what are you doing here? How did you get here?”

“Uh, we took my war balloon,” the other guard replied. You froze slightly at the familiar voice, turning to find Prince Zuko standing there, waving awkwardly.

“You,” you snarled, stomping up to the prince and pushing him up against the wall. You held your forearm against his throat, staring him down. Zuko didn’t do anything in return, a dazed smile on his face as he stared back at you.

“(Y/N) what are you doing?” Sokka yelped, placing a hand on your shoulder. You looked away from Zuko, glancing at your brother in disbelief.

“What do you mean? Have you forgotten that he’s tracked us all over the world? Or that he’s tried to kill us? Multiple times!” you glanced at Zuko again, noticing that he was still smiling. “Why are you smiling at me? Sokka, why is he smiling at me?”

Sokka snorted softly, the scene in front of him reminding him of the first time Aang had met him and Katara. Shooting a tired look at Zuko, he gently pulled you away from the scarred prince. “I don’t know why he’s smiling at you but I do know that he’s part of the team now, so lay off okay?”

You looked at him in disbelief before whirling around and facing Sokka. “Alright but that still doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

“We’re here to break you out?” Sokka said, rubbing the back of his neck as he turned his gaze to the floor.

“Seriously?” you hissed, stepping closer to him and causing him to stumble back. “This couldn’t have waited until after Aang defeated Ozai?”

“I told you so,” Zuko mumbled, shooting a pointed look at Sokka.

“Stay out of this,” you whisper-yelled, pushing him back up against the wall with one hand. “You have to leave. Both of you.“

“Well you see,” Sokka said, chuckling slightly as he met your gaze. “We can’t exactly do that.”

“Yes you can,” you replied, grabbing Sokka and proceeding to push the two boys towards the door. “Just get back on your little war balloon and leave.”

Zuko and Sokka exchanged nervous glances at the mention of the war balloon, causing you to narrow your eyes at them.

“Don’t say it.”

“It popped!” Sokka squealed, bouncing away from you as he noticed your expression. “But we’ll get out of here, and you’re coming with us.”

You couldn’t help but facepalm at your brother’s words.

The guards had only released you from your cell when it was your turn to do the cleaning. You hadn’t heard from Sokka since he had left you, and you were worried that he had gotten caught. You were so distracted by your thoughts that you didn’t notice the other prisoner who was mopping, resulting in you bumping into them and falling down.

“I’m sorry,” the other prisoner said, extending a hand to help you up. You glanced up, making eye contact with Zuko. Your eyes widened almost comically and you grabbed his hand, simultaneously pulling yourself up and pulling him closer to you.

“Where is my brother?” you asked as you leaned in close, panic in your voice as you whispered in his ear. Zuko tried to ignore the blush on his cheeks as your close proximity, focusing on your question.

“He’s fine,” he whispered back. “It was just me who got caught.”

You let his hand go, stepping back and nodding subtly before going back to mopping. Zuko stayed close to you, pretending to be focused on his mopping as he stole glances at you. Feeling his gaze, you looked up and arched an eyebrow as you made eye contact. The prince flushed when he realized he had been caught, looking back down before speaking.

“I-I never introduced myself,” he spoke softly. “I’m Zuko.”

“I know,” you replied flatly, walking further away from him. Zuko stood awkwardly for a moment before inching closer to you again.

“So you’re (Y/N),” he spoke again. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

You snorted at his words, your eyes not leaving the ground. “Yeah I’m sure it is.”

“You’re a really good fighter,” Zuko continued, still trying to make conversation. “Even back when I was still hunting the Avatar you were the one that I was most worried about holding off.”

“Good to know,” you said drily, finally looking up at Zuko. “Look, Sokka may trust you but I don’t, okay? First of all, you haven’t really done anything but cause trouble for us. Second of all, you actually brought my brother here. I appreciate the sentiment but I’m not exactly thrilled at the idea of my baby brother breaking into a Fire Nation prison.”

Zuko swallowed harshly, looking away. “I’m sorry. But he was really adamant about rescuing you and your dad and-��

“Wait,” you interrupted Zuko. “I’m the only Water Tribe member here. My dad is still being held somewhere in the Fire Nation capital.”

Zuko’s eyes widened briefly before he composed himself. “Oh. Alright then I guess that means we can leave as soon as Sokka comes back to meet us.”

The two of you continued to mop in silence before someone suddenly grabbed your upper arm, causing you to stiffen and causing Zuko to get into a defensive stance.

“Calm down, it’s just me.”

“You really have to stop doing that Sokka,” you hissed, yanking your arm away from him. “Zuko told me about why you’re here. I hope you know we can leave now. Dad isn’t here.”

Sokka’s face fell briefly before he forced a smile onto his face. “He may not be but guess who is? Suki! Why didn’t you tell me she was here (Y/N)?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you whispered. “Maybe because I was too busy freaking out about the fact that my kid brother and the Fire Nation prince broke into prison and don’t have a way to get out!”

“Shh!” Sokka hissed, putting his hand over your mouth. “Be quiet! And I’m not your ‘kid brother’, you’re only a year older than I am.”

Zuko stayed quiet as the two of you stared each other down before Sokka let out a yelp and took his hand off your mouth. “Did you just lick me?”

You didn’t reply, a smirk on your face as you crossed your arms. Zuko stifled a laugh at the scene in front of him, coughing quietly when you shot a look at him. The three of you stood still as a new voice interrupted.

“So, what’s the plan?” Suki stood near you, hiding in the shadows that the staircase provided. You exchanged a glance with Sokka, nodding in encouragement.

“So, listen, I think I have an escape plan,” Sokka began, a little nervous at being in charge of the escape plan. “I checked out the coolers again, and the point of them is to keep firebenders contained, right?”

“Yeah,” Zuko replied, unsure as to where this was going.

“So, they're completely insulated and sealed to keep the cold in. Well, to keep the cold in, it also has to keep the heat out, right?”

Zuko and Suki exchanged confused looks before looking over at you, only to see you smiling widely as you caught on.

“Just get to the point Sokka,” Suki said, glancing around nervously.

“It's a perfect boat for getting through the boiling water!” you said, eyes sparkling as you looked at Sokka proudly. Despite the situation, Zuko found himself smiling at the sight of your smile.

“Sokka,” you said, leaning in close to your brother while keeping your eyes on Zuko. “He’s doing it again.”

Sokka scowled and smacked Zuko’s head, causing the boy to straighten up and ignore Suki’s smirk. “The cooler as a boat? Are you sure?”

“I’m telling you, it’ll work,” Sokka said, giving them each a serious glance. “I walked around the perimeter. There's a blind spot between two guard towers. It's the perfect launching point. I already tested it out. We'll roll the cooler into the water and just float with the current. It'll take us straight across. As long as we don't make a sound, no one will notice. And bing-bang-boom, we're home free.”

“But how are you going to get the cooler out?” Suki asked, a worried frown on her face.

“Yeah. How are you gonna get the cooler out?”

The four of you turned as Chit Sang landed next to you, causing Sokka and Zuko to stutter as they tried to tell Chit Sang that they weren’t planning anything. You rolled your eyes, stepping closer to Chit Sang before speaking. “That’s easy, isn’t it? We just need to get a firebender into the cooler.”

Sokka and Zuko gaped at you, shocked that you had given them away.

“Calm down,” you scoffed, patting Chit Sang’s back. “Chit Sang and I go way back. He’s the one who made all the other firebenders leave me alone.”

Chit Sang nodded before turning back to the group. “Look I won’t tell the warden about your plan if you let me come along.”

Sokka stared at you intently, the two of you having a silent conversation before turning back to the group. “Fine! But we need to get someone into the cooler.”

Sokka handed Zuko a wrench. “Here. You’re going to unbolt the cooler, from the inside.”

Zuko looked back at Sokka, confused. “How am I going to get in there?”

You grinned widely, patting Zuko’s chest as you walked past him. “I got this. Follow my lead.”

You picked up your mop, motioning for Zuko to do the same. You began mopping, casually walking around as you kept Zuko in your periphery. The prince didn’t dare look at you so he was caught by surprise when you bumped into him from behind.

“Hey!” you snapped, turning around and glaring at him. “Watch where you’re going.”

Zuko froze for a split second before realizing this was your plan. “You’re the one who bumped into me. How about you watch where you’re going?”

A smile played at the corner of your lips as you stared each other down. Zuko noticed and felt his cheeks grow warm as he tried to hold back a smile of his own. The two of you stood there for a few seconds, staring at each other until Sokka coughed loudly.

Tearing your eyes away from the prince, you lunged at him. He easily dodged your swing before throwing a halfhearted punch back at you. You rolled your eyes as you kicked at him, losing your balance slightly as he swatted your leg away. You recovered quickly and threw another punch, a soft gasp leaving your mouth when he grasped your wrist and twirled you around, your back pressed against his chest as his arm held you tightly in place.

You struggled for a moment, sighing in defeat when you realized just how strong he was. You tilted your head back slightly, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered into it. “You have to firebend at me Zuko.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he mumbled back, causing you to roll your eyes again.

“I’m a big girl. I can handle myself,” you replied. With a grunt, you elbowed him in the stomach. He let out a soft ‘oof’ and you took that chance to break out of his hold. You dropped down and spun, your leg outstretched as you tried to knock him down. He jumped over your leg easily before shooting out a blast of fire at you. He held his breath for a second, sighing in relief as he noticed you roll out of the way.

“No firebending!” a guard shouted, roughly grabbing Zuko from behind. You sent him a soft smile, receiving a smirk in return. As he was led away, Suki came up to you, a big smile on her face.

“So,” she said, her tone teasing. “What was that?”

“Yeah (Y/N),” Sokka said, crossing his arms as he came up to you. “What was that?”

You rolled your eyes before walking past the two of them. “It was a fight.”

“That’s not what it looked like from my point of view,” Suki called out after you, causing Sokka to send a glare at her. You simply chuckled at her words.

“(Y/N)?”

You stood up from the floor of your cell, looking at Sokka as he stood outside your cell. “Yeah?”

“It’s time.”

Sokka opened your cell and threw you a guard’s uniform before quickly closing the door and allowing you to change. When you were done, you knocked on the door three times, fixing your helmet as you waited for him to open the door.

Together, the two of you made your way towards the cooler, trying to avoid any guards on your way.

You opened the door to the cooler, a small frown making its way onto your face when you noticed that Zuko was shivering.

“I can take you back to your cell if you’ve learned your lesson,” Sokka said, looking way too smug. You rolled our eyes and focused on Zuko as he looked up at the two of you. His eyes met yours as he let out a breath of fire, his shivering stopping completely. He sent you a cocky smirk and you ignored the flopping you felt in your stomach at the sight of it. (A/N: y’all know what smirk i’m talkin bout)

“Yes I have,” he breathed, showing you both all the bolts and screws he had removed. “Completely.”

“I got Suki and Chit Sang out of their cells a few minutes ago,” Sokka whispered. “They'll be waiting for us at the shore.”

“Someone’s coming!” you whisper yelled, letting out a small yelp when you were pulled into the cooler. The three of you barely fit into the cooler but that didn’t make it any less cold. Even though you had grown up in the South Pole, you found yourself shivering at the temperature, your breath coming out in icy clouds.

Zuko glanced down at you, a frown appearing on his face as he noticed you shivering. He hesitantly wrapped his arms around you, bringing you in close as your expression changed into a bewildered one. You opened your mouth to say something, but quickly shut it when you realized just how warm he was. Sokka, unfortunately, didn’t stay quiet at the scene playing out in front of him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he screeched quietly, trying to pry the two of you apart. You quickly pushed him away.

“Sokka, shut up,” you mumbled as you wrapped your arms around Zuko, your teeth still chattering. “He’s warm and I’m freezing.”

Sokka’s jaw dropped as you casually buried your face into Zuko’s chest, a content sigh escaping you as you got warmer by the second. Sokka stayed quiet as the voices outside got closer, instead miming a throat slitting motion as he stared Zuko down, causing the prince to swallow harshly.

“...Yeah. new arrivals coming in at dawn,” a male voice sounded, catching your attention.

“Anybody interesting?” a female voice asked in reply.

“Nah, just the usual. Some robbers, a couple traitors, some war prisoners,” you and Sokka exchanged a disbelieving look. “Though I did hear there might be a pirate.”

“No fooling!”

The voices faded as they walked away and you all took that chance to leave the cooler.

“War prisoners,” Zuko stated, his eyes not leaving Sokka’s. “Could be your father.”

“I know.”

“Well, what should we do?” Zuko asked. “Are we going ahead with the plan or are we waiting another night?”

“I don't know!” Sokka cried out, looking distraught. “Is it right for me to risk Suki and (Y/N)’s freedom, all of our freedom, on the slim chance that my dad is gonna show up?”

You stayed quiet, not knowing what to say.

“It’s your call Sokka,” Zuko finally said, trying to let the other boy know he was there for him.

Sokka thought about it for a moment, eyes focused on the ground. After a few seconds he looked up and scowled, crossing his arms as he glared at you. “You can let go of him now (Y/N).”

A bright blush erupted on your cheeks as you looked at Zuko, an embarrassed expression spreading across your face as you realized you were still holding onto each other. You stepped away from him quickly, clearing your throat as you did so.

The three of you had somehow managed to get the cooler down to the shore, not that it mattered considering the fact that Chit Sang had just taken your only means of escape. It wasn’t his fault really; it was you and Sokka who had been extremely hesitant to leave, not wanting to risk the chance of your dad being on the gondola the next morning.

Suki and Zuko had stayed behind with you, the four of you waiting in the blind spot for the gondola to arrive. It had almost been light out when alarms were set off, causing all of you to whip your heads to where the cooler had been floating off.

“The plan failed!” Sokka said sadly. “They got caught.”

“I guess it’s a good thing we didn’t go along with them huh?” you said, earning a dull look from your brother.

“The gondola's moving,” Sokka said suddenly, grasping your hand. “This is it. If my dad's not there, we've risked everything for nothing.”

“We had to,” you whispered back, squeezing his hand. The four of you now stood in the yard as you waited in anticipation, looking up as the gondola doors opened.

“Is that him?” Zuko asked as the first prisoner got out.

“My dad doesn’t have a nose ring!” both you and Sokka exclaimed, looking at the prince weirdly. More men came off the gondola, both you and Sokka shaking with anxiety as you kept an eye out for Hakoda.

“Where is he?” Sokka asked as the last man stepped off. “Is that it? That can’t be it.”

“I’m sorry,” Suki whispered, rubbing both of your backs.

“Hey you!” the guard called out, drawing your attention. “Get off the gondola.”

You waited with bated breath for the last person to emerge, your hand tightening around Sokka’s and causing him to wince. Your eyes widened as you watched the final prisoner get off, dark jaw-length hair surrounding a face that held tired blue eyes. You immediately turned to Sokka, tears threatening to spill.

“Sokka,” you whispered. “It’s dad.”

You had been pacing back and forth worriedly ever since Sokka had gone to join the other guards and quite frankly, both Suki and Zuko were tired of it.

“Please just stand still (Y/N),” Suki said, gently reaching out and grabbing you. “If something was wrong, we would’ve heard it already. Your brother isn’t exactly the quietest.”

You nodded in agreement and sat down, nervously biting your lip as you waited for Sokka to return. You barely flinched as Zuko sat next to you, Suki giving him a knowing glance as she wandered off slowly.

“Look,” he began, staring straight ahead. “I know you don’t like me, but I need to tell you this okay? As much as you can’t help but worry, you shouldn’t. Sokka’s smart and he knows what he��s doing...sort of.”

He chuckled at the halfhearted glare you directed at him. “I’m kidding. But really, Sokka’s smart and brave and he was so set on coming up here and breaking you out and I know he’s going to do it because he has heart. Plus he has you helping him out. So stop worrying so much okay? Also, never repeat any of what I just said to him”

You snorted at Zuko’s words before bumping his shoulder with your. “Thanks Zuko. You know what? Maybe you’re not as bad as I thought.”

The prince’s eyes widened in shock and he smiled down at you, blushing slightly when you smiled back. Your moment was ruined when Sokka came sprinting back, causing Suki to join you as well.

“(Y/N), c’mon! I found him,” Sokka exclaimed. Without another word, he grabbed your arm and dragged you away from the group. A wide smile was on his face and you felt yourself smile as well when you came to a stop in front of a cell.

Sokka slid the door open, looking around before ducking inside and draging you with him. “Thank goodness you’re okay!”

“Oh you’ll see just how ‘okay’ I am,” Hakoda replied, swinging at what he believed to be a guard. You stepped in front of Sokka before pushing Hakoda’s arm out of the way, ducking under it and pushing him softly before pulling Sokka out of the way.

Hakoda’s eyes widened at the familiar movements,searching the faces of the two guards standing before him. “Sokka? (Y/N)?”

"Dad!” you cried out in unison with Sokka, the two of you removing your masks as you smiled at Hakoda. His eyes filled with tears as he brought you into a hug and you couldn’t help but let a few tears slip as well.

“Where’s Katara? Is she okay?”

“She’s fine dad,” you said, tightening your hold on Hakoda. “She’s not here.”

“Where’s Bato?” Sokka asked, pulling away. “Where’s everyone else from the invasion?”

“The others are being held at a prison near the Fire Nation palace,” Hakoda replied. “They sent me here because I kept being difficult after they singled (Y/N) out as the leader and sent her here. But before I left, I met some young women who said they knew you. The...Oshinama Fighters? ”

“You mean the Kyoshi Warriors?” you asked.

“That’s right.”

“Their leader Suki is here,” Sokka said, a blush visible on his face. “She’s gonna escape with us too!”

“Good. We'll need all the help we can get.”

“And you know Prince Zuko?” Sokka asked, getting excited at the thought of finally leaving.

“The son of the Fire Lord?” Hakoda asked hesitantly. “I don't know him, but I know of him.”

"Well he’s here too!” Sokka exclaimed.

“That sounds like a major problem,” Hakoda replied, crossing his arms as his face hardened.

“Actually,” Sokka said, smiling nervously. “He’s on our side now.”

Hakoda shot him a disbelieving look, causing you to step in.

“I had the same reaction dad,” you said, putting a hand on Hakoda’s shoulder. “But he really has changed. He came here with Soka to break me out. He’s been a big help.”

Hakoda’s face softened at your words. You had always been a good judge of character, so if you approved of the prince, then he did too. “So, do you have a plan?”

“We had one,” Sokka said, looking down sadly. “But some of the other prisoners got involved and ruined it. I dunno if there's another way off this island.”

“Sokka, there's no prison in the world that can hold three Water Tribe geniuses.”

“Then I guess we’d better find two more to help me plan something,” you teased, making Hakoda laugh and earning a dull look from Sokka.

You sprinted towards the yard, having been distracted by another guard for a few minutes before all the prisoners had been let out. When you reached your dad, Suki, and Sokka, you were surprised to see Chit Sang speaking with them.

“Hey you! You're lucky I didn't rat you out,” Chit Sang said, staring Sokka down. “But my generosity comes with a price. I know you're planning another escape attempt, and I want in.”

You nodded at Sokka, telling him to go along with it. He sighed softly before facing Chit Sang. “Actually, we're trying to escape right now, but we need a riot. You wouldn't happen to know how to start one, would you?”

“You seriously couldn’t start a prison riot?” you asked in disbelief, looking at the three of them in disappointment. “C’mon Chit Sang, let’s show them how it’s done.”

The two of you stepped forwards, Chit Sang picking up another prisoner as you strutted up to one of them.

“Hey everybody!” you yelled, the yard going quiet as you spoke. Without hesitation, you punched the prisoner closest to you. “Riot!”

The yard exploded into chaos as people began fighting and throwing stuff around. You quickly fought off the prisoner that you had punched before returning to your friends.

“Impressive,” Hakoda said, looking around at all the chaos.

You turned and swung as you felt someone bump into you, the person letting out a loud grunt as your fist met their face. Your jaw dropped as your eyes met piercing gold ones, your hands coming up to your face in slight horror as you realized that you had just punched Zuko.

“Yep,” he said, clutching his face. “I probably deserved that after everything I’ve done to you.”

“I’m so sorry,” you choked out in between giggles, earning a smile from the prince.

“Zuko! Good, we’re all here,” Sokka said, drawing you all into a huddle. “Now all we need to do is grab the warden, and get to the gondolas!”

“And how do we do that?” Zuko asked.

Sokka hesitated for a few seconds. “I’m not sure.”

Zuko groaned, throwing his hands up in frustration. “I thought you thought this through!”

“I thought you told me it's okay not to think everything through”

“Maybe not everything, but this is kind of important!” Zuko cried out.

“Hey fella,” Chit Sang interrupted, tapping Zuko’s shoulder before pointing at you. “I think your girlfriend’s taking care of it.”

“You’re dating my daughter?” Hakoda asked, glaring at Zuko.

“W-What? No!” Zuko cried out, slightly fearful of the Water Tribe Chief.

“Damn right you’re not,“ Sokka said, crossing his arms before Chit Sang spun him around.

“Your girlfriend too buddy.”

All four males went silent as they observed both you and Suki. You swiftly made your way up the tower, effortlessly taking guards down as you inched towards the warden. Suki took a stance at the base of the tower, fighting off any other guards who attempted to rush to the warden’s rescue. She was a truly impressive sight, her training as a Kyoshi Warrior shining through as she took down every guard that came at her effortlessly. Sokka stood a few yards away, awestruck at the sight in front of him.

Meanwhile, you had successfully made your way up to the top of the tower. You made quick work of the remaining guards before finally facing the warden.

“You wouldn’t dare,” he snarled, getting into a defensive position.

“Watch me,” you quipped, lunging at him. You avoided his punch, grabbing his wrist and spinning him around before shoving him up against the railing. You grabbed his sash, tying his hands before knocking him down and making sure he was tied securely before smiling over at your dad. “You’re my prisoner now warden.”

Down in the yard, Hakoda, Zuko, and Chit Sang all stared at you in awe, Sokka still focused on Suki.

“That’s my girl,” Hakoda stated, a proud look on his face as he looked up at you.

“Do you think she’d want to be my girl?” Zuko muttered dazedly, unintentionally speaking louder than he meant to. When he realized what he had said, he looked up in embarrassment, being met with an amused glance from Chit Sang, a harsh scowl from Hakoda, and a sharp slap from Sokka.

“Shut up!” Sokka hissed before grabbing Zuko’s arm and rushing to join you and Suki.

You all ran to the gondola, making sure that the warden was still tied up as you dragged him with you.

“We’re almost there!” Suki cried out.

“Spoke too soon,” you groaned as a group of guards came across your path, immediately sending two blasts of fire at you. You yelped as Zuko pulled you out of the way before stepping in front of you and dissipating the blasts. He sent a series of blasts back at them before grabbing the warden from you.

“Back off! We've got the warden!“ he shouted, successfully stopping the guards. When they didn’t make any movements he grabbed your hand and tugged you along. “Let's go”

Suki was the first to make it to the gondola, holding the door open for everyone else. “Everyone in!”

You all clambered on and you glanced around, realizing that someone was missing.

“Zuko!” you yelled, looking back at the prince. He started the gondola and you felt yourself panic as the guards closed in on him. “What are you doing? Hurry up!”

“I’m making it so that they can’t stop us!” With a few kicks, Zuko managed to break the lever that controlled the gondola before sprinting towards you. You leaned out of the door slightly, watching him in anticipation.

“C’mon Zuko,” you whispered to yourself, biting your lip as the gondola left the platform, now hanging freely. Zuko sped up and jumped, his feet landing on the edge of the gondola. He wobbled for a bit before you grasped his arm, fully pulling him into the gondola and into your arms. Zuko looked at you in confusion before wrapping his arms around you as well.

“Are you sure they’re not dating?” Hakoda asked, his voice quiet as he addressed Sokka. Sokka sent Zuko a menacing glare, the scarred prince gulping and loosening his hold on you when he noticed.

“What were you thinking?” you cried out, finally pulling away from Zuko and slapping his head.

“Ow!” Zuko hissed, rubbing the spot you had hit. “I was thinking ‘let me get rid of this lever real quick so that they don’t catch us’.”

“You could’ve gotten captured!” you yelled at him, taking a step towards him.

“Way to think ahead,” Sokka commented, saving Zuko from another slap.

“We’re finally on our way.” Suki sighed, sharing a soft smile with Sokka.

“Wait,” Hakoda said, leaning out of the window. “Who’s that?”

You leaned out of the window on the other side of the gondola, resisting the urge to blush as you felt Zuko’s chest press up against your back as he tried to get a good look at the platform.

“That’s a problem,” Zuko groaned. “It’s my sister and her friend.”

“This is a rematch I’ve been waiting for,” Suki growled, cracking her knuckles.

“Get in line,” you scoffed, your eyes narrowing as you watched the princess approach. You climbed out of the gondola and onto the roof, being followed by Sokka, Suki, and Zuko.

Suki and Sokka turned to face Ty Lee as she landed onto the roof gracefully, quickly becoming preoccupied with the chi-blocker. You carefully observed Azula as she landed a few feet away from you, staring you down as she stalked closer.

“Well, well, well,” she spoke, her voice taunting. “If it isn’t the Water Tribe scum.”

“Don’t speak to her like that,” Zuko barked, stepping slightly in front of you.

“Aww, does Zuzu have a little crush?” Azula teased, pouting as she shifted her gaze to Zuko. “Snap out of it Zuko. We raided her village multiple times. She’ll never see you as anything other than a monster.”

“Still not over what your mother used to say about you huh?” you shot back, missing the hurt look in Azula’s eyes as she shot lightning at you. You swiftly dodged the blast and ran at her, sliding onto the ground when she let out another blast.

Zuko watched as you stood up, landing a solid hit on his sister before bouncing back and dodging the hit she sent your way. He tried to find an opening to attack Azula but eventually gave up for fear of hurting you. Instead he chose to jump into the fight and wipe out the blasts Azula kept sending at you, even if you were expertly dodging them.

Azula soon grew tired of the fight, and knowing that she couldn’t beat you in the moment decided to send a blast of fire at Zuko. She caught him off guard and although he managed to wipe out the blast, he ended up tumbling back and landing dangerously close to the gondola’s edge.

“Zuko!” you yelled, momentarily distracted from the fight. Azula took this chance to kick you down, punching you before kicking you once more when you tried to scramble to your feet. You were sent stumbling against the metal handle that attached the gondola to the cable, gasping in pain as you crashed against it. She grinned widely when your head hit the metal.

You blew your hair out of your face, wincing as you reached up to touch the sore spot on your head and sighing when you noticed the blood on your fingertips.

“You have nowhere to go,” Azula stated, stalking towards you. Blue fire danced at her fingertips, her eyes hungry with anticipation as you struggled to stand. “Such a shame, you could’ve been a great asset to me.”

“I would rather die than join you,” you shot back, finally managing to stand up.

“Fine,” Azula spat, the fire growing as she narrowed her eyes. “Have it your way.”

You closed your eyes and braced yourself, knowing that you were in no shape to block her attack. You felt the heat approaching before it disappeared. Opening your eyes, you gasped softly as you saw Zuko standing in front of you. He sent blasts of fire back at Azula before the gondola swung dangerously, sending them both stumbling.

“They’re about to cut the line!” Ty Lee shouted at Azula.

“Then it’s time to leave,” the princess smirked. “Goodbye Zuko.”

Azula blasted away as Ty Lee backflipped gracefully onto the other gondola. Zuko glared at Azula briefly before rushing to your side, reaching down and gently picking you up.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his face twisting with concern as you stumbled.

“Yeah,” you breathed. “Just peachy.”

You tried to walk on your own only to stumble once more and fall right into Zuko’s arms. You shook your head slightly, trying to walk off once more.

“(Y/N), stop,” Zuko said, scooping your legs up and fully carrying you.

“P-Put me down!” you yelled, drawing Sokka and Suki’s attention.

“Hey! Put her down,” Sokka cried, rushing over to your side. He was stopped when the gondola swayed again.

“Stop struggling,” Zuko hissed, tightening his grip on you. “You can’t walk without stumbling. You probably have a concussion.”

You pouted but stayed silent, knowing that the prince was right. Carefully, he made his way over to the edge of the gondola, noticing that Hakoda was leaning out of the window. Carefully, he handed you down to him, making sure that you were safely inside before swinging himself in as well. Sokka and Suki quickly followed.

“They’re cutting the line,” Zuko stated, exchanging glances with everyone else. “The gondola’s about to go!”

“I hope this thing floats,” Hakoda said, fussing over your head wound as you tried to push him away.

“Hey!” you suddenly cried as the gondola began to move. You glanced out the window. “Who’s that?”

“That’s Mai!” Zuko exclaimed, his eyebrows furrowing as he observed her fighting with the guards.

The gondola made it to the other side without any other mishaps. When you got there, Zuko carefully picked you up once again, making his way out of the gondola. Sokka kept his gaze on him, only looking away when he felt Suki grab his hand. She shook her head at him before looking at you and Zuko. “Calm down. There are worse people she could be with.”

Sokka rolled his eyes at her words before trailing after Zuko, a barely visible smile appearing on his face as he noticed how Zuko was fussing over you as well. Hakoda and Chit Sang tossed the warden back into the gondola before joining the group. They all walked for a while before Zuko paused, standing on the cliff that was overlooking the rest of the volcano.

“What’s wrong Zuko?” you asked quietly, your eyes not leaving his face as he scanned the landscape in front of him. At this point, everyone else had backtracked to where you were standing.

“My sister was on that island,” was his only response.

“Yeah, and she's probably right behind us, so let's not stop!” Sokka said, trying to convince Zuko to keep moving.

“What I mean is she must have come here somehow,” he replied, his eyes still looking around.

“There!” you exclaimed, pointing at a large airship. “That's our way out of here!“

The six of you all managed to make it to the airship quickly enough and Zuko quickly lit the fire and guided it away from The Boiling Rock. The atmosphere was lively as everyone tried to catch up with each other, the excitement from the day eventually leaving everyone as the sun began setting. One by one, everyone fell asleep until it was just you and Zuko awake.

You had been looking around the ship, smirking in victory when you found a first aid kit. Silently you wandered out to where Zuko was, trying not to startle him.

“Long night?” you asked, leaning on the wall next to him.

“Someone has to keep the fire going,” he retorted, a faint smile present on his handsome face.

“Can you help me?” you asked quietly, meeting his eyes as he turned to face you. He nodded and you handed him the first aid kit before sitting down in front of him. You flinched slightly as his hand grabbed your jaw, closing your eyes as you reveled in his touch, remaining oblivious to the way his heart was racing at the close proximity. His touch was feather light in comparison to the guard who had grasped your jaw in a similar way back at the Boiling Rock. You snorted softly as you recalled the incident that had taken place a mere day ago; it seemed like it had happened ages ago.

“I’m sorry,” Zuko whispered, tilting your head to get better access to the cut on your head.

“It’s fine, it doesn’t hurt,” you murmured back, eyes still closed.

“Not about that,” Zuko replied, cleaning the wound as best as he could with the supplies you had given him. You hissed softly as he tried to place the bandage on, breathing deeply to try and ignore the pain. “I’m sorry about everything. I’m sorry for hunting the Avatar down and chasing you all around the world. I’m sorry about your mother. I’m sorry for the raids that tore your village apart. I’m sorry that I kept causing you harm even when I had the chance to do good.”

You opened your eyes at his words, reaching up and gently grabbing his hand to bring his attention to you. He could’ve sworn his heart skipped a beat. You stared at him in silence, his golden eyes never leaving yours even as he fidgeted uncomfortably under your gaze. Your face softened as you realized just how full of guilt Zuko really was, your heart aching as you realized that you couldn’t spend any more time hating him. Not when he had already done so much to try and make up for his mistakes.

“No Zuko,” you finally spoke, guiding him to take a seat in front of you. “I’m sorry for being so harsh towards you. You did more than enough to prove that you aren’t the same bratty prince you were when we first met but I wasn’t willing to look past the fact that you were once our enemy. You left the Fire Nation to help Aang and I can’t imagine how hard that was-”

“Trust me,” Zuko interjected, laughing humorlessly. “It wasn’t that hard. My father and sister are horrible people.”

“Still,” you said, leaning in a bit. “They’re your family. Betraying your family isn’t easy, even if you don’t get along with them.”

Silence ensued as Zuko stood up and carefully finished bandaging your cut. He took his seat in front of you once more, watching the fire as you watched him.

“What?” Zuko asked, his cheeks heating up he realized that you were still staring at him.

“Thank you Zuko,” you stated, finally looking away from the golden-eyed boy.

“Don’t thank me,” Zuko replied. “It was Sokka’s idea to break you out.”

“I mean for saving me from Azula,” you whispered, looking back up at him. “She really had me backed into a corner.”

“I wasn’t going to let her hurt you,” Zuko stated, staring into your eyes. “Sokka would’ve killed me if we came all this way just to lose you to her.”

You giggled at his words, causing him to smirk in satisfaction as he realized that he had made you laugh. “He would’ve, wouldn’t he?”

There was another silence before you spoke up again. “In all seriousness, thank you. I never thought that I’d be calling Prince Zuko my hero.”

Zuko gulped as he realized just how close the two of you were. Neither of you made a move to back away and you flushed when you caught yourself glancing at the prince’s lips.

You blushed harder when you realized he had caught you in the act.

“Zuko,” you whispered, squeaking softly when said boy leaned forwards and connected his lips with yours. The kiss was soft and hesitant, with both of you holding your breath as you realized you were kissing each other.

Pulling away, Zuko’s eyes widened. “Oh spirits. I-I’m sorry. I can’t believe I just did th-”

You cut Zuko’s apology off with another kiss, this one a little less awkward. His hand came up and grabbed your waist, pulling you a little closer as his other hand cupped your cheek. Your hand came up to grab his forearm, your brain trying to comprehend the fact that you were kissing Zuko and wondering how in the world he was such a good kisser.

“I thought you said you weren’t dating my daughter.”

The two of you flew apart as you heard Hakoda’s voice.

“D-Dad!” you exclaimed. “We weren’t- I wasn’t-”

Hakoda held up a hand to stop your stuttering. “It doesn’t matter. He risked his life to help your brother break you out of prison which means he’s good in my books. Just please don’t kiss in front of me. And maybe don’t let Sokka find out about this just yet. Good night.”

You turned to Zuko in embarrassment as Hakoda walked away, making eye contact with him before the two of you dissolved into laughter.

“Well that’s one way to get the parent’s approval,” you muttered, smiling at Zuko as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you into him.

The two of you spent the rest of the night awake, talking about everything and nothing, stargazing as Zuko kept the flame alive.

“You know, I used to know the moon spirit when she was alive,” you said smugly, glancing up at Zuko as he smiled widely at you.

“Oh really?”

“Yeah! In fact, she was Sokka’s first girlfriend.”

Zuko smiled and pressed another kiss to your lips, smiling softly when he felt your hand come up to his chest.

And in that moment, Zuko knew he had made the right decision by deciding to join the Avatar. After all, if he hadn’t then why would the universe have chosen to reward him with something as amazing as you.

taglist!

@musicalkeys, @mywigglybaby, @bubblebars, @iguessthefloorislava

7K notes · View notes

verymuchimmortalcat · 3 years

Text

As You Were Once

For Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month Day 14: De-aged

ao3

@maribat-bdbwm

Marinette was waiting at the airport for her dad, Cass, Damian, Tim and Steph. Lucius had said that there were some important things to handle in the Paris branch of WE and had insisted upon Bruce dealing with it himself. Then the others wanted to join him, leaving Dick as Batman for the week, Signal, Red Hood, Oracle and the Birds of prey to protect Gotham. Alfred had decided to go on a vacation when most of the Manor's occupants were coming to Paris and Duke would be staying with Jason for the next week.

The five of them had promised that they wouldn't interfere in case of an akuma attack. Though Marinette was sure that they weren't going to sit back if they decided their help was needed. But hopefully they wouldn't deal with anything too severe this week.

She waves as she spots her siblings, all of them with the exception of Steph trying not to draw attention to themselves.

“B’s still getting everything sorted at customs and immigration,” Tim informs her once she’s finished hugging all of them.

She frowns, “was there a problem with something?”

“He’s keeping up his cover,” Damian states.

“He’s being unnaturally friendly to someone he hasn’t done a background check on,” Steph says.

“It was starting to get creepy,” Cass adds.

Marinette probably would have run away too. Galas were one thing, everyone there had been through an extensive background check but the whole Brucie Wayne act in front of people he knew absolutely nothing about was a completely different level of strange.

Their conversation turns to everything she’s missed since their last conversation. She gets a very detailed update on Damian’s pets

They weren't waiting long before they were joined by B. Though he had to leave almost immediately to WE apparently whatever he had come for had been more urgent than they had realised.

Once her dad is gone the five of them head to the bakery, while there wasn't space for everyone to stay at the bakery, all of them had wanted to spend time with the Dupain-Chengs.

.oOo.

They're all at the bakery when the screaming starts. All of them immediately jump up but before any of them can join her she stops them and tells them to cover for her. Tom and Sabine don't know her identity and her siblings can't risk theirs over what’s probably a simple akuma attack.

Promising them she'll call if she needs help she transforms and heads in the direction of the akuma. Adrien's already there but the others aren't supposed to transform unless needed. It's pretty close to WE. Marinette hopes her father actually remembered his promise and didn't become a target.

She stops to rescue a larger number of children then she'd normally have to. Why are there so many children outside during an akuma attack?

It's only when she stops in front of a boy who appears to be about seven who looks exactly like the photos Alfred has of her father at that age does she figure out what the akuma's powers are.

De aging.

Marinette asks him anyway, there is always the possibility that a random Parisian child looks exactly like a seven-year-old version of her father.

It is not a random Parisian child. Marinette is the holder of the miraculous of good luck, you really would think she’d have better luck.

She crouches down so that she’s at his eye level, “I’m going to take you somewhere safe. Is that ok with you?”

He looks unsure but he nods. Picking him up, she swings back to the bakery as fast as possible. She calls Nino, Alya and Kagami and tells them there's a family emergency and to take care of the akuma and to bring it to her so she could purify it.

Landing in an alleyway near the bakery, she de-transforms. She doesn't bother with telling him to keep her identity a secret. He already knows in the future and he's definitely not going to talk to someone who doesn't already know who she is.

Holding his hand she leads him to the bakery. She tells Damian to get the others up and takes her dad (wow, is it strange to think of an approximately seven year old as her dad) to the living room.

She tells Tikki to give tiny Bruce something to occupy his time while she and her siblings figure something out. As they all join her upstairs, she sees as each of them realise what's happened and go from shock to laughter.

"He doesn't remember anything. The others are taking care of the akuma. Figured you’d need help taking care of him," she says before Tim can ask.

"Hasn't happened yet," Cass states.

The laughter from a few seconds ago is gone. They all know what she's talking about. This Bruce Wayne hasn't lost his parents.

This Bruce Wayne also seems to be glaring at them, he also looks scared. She can’t blame him, he wasn’t offered much of an explanation before she brought him here.

"Where are my parents?” he demands, “The girl who brought me here obviously seems to be some kind of superhero. Who are the rest of you?"

None of them look shocked that he knows that she’s Ladybug but none of them are dwelling on that. He asked for his parents what could they even tell him? They obviously can't tell him his parents are dead but they also know it wouldn't be fair to lie to him.

"Would you like to talk to Alfred?" Tim asks suddenly. They all sigh in relief when he nods.

Marinette calls Alfred but doesn't hand the phone to tiny Bruce immediately, it would definitely be more painful for Alfred than any of them to deal with him in this state.

As soon as he picks up, Marinette starts speaking, "there was an akuma and dad became small and he's asking for his parents and we offered to call you instead."

Alfred being Alfred remains calm and asks her to hand the phone to tiny Bruce. All of them are staring at him as he talks to Alfred over the phone. Even though they can hear only one side of the conversation, tiny Bruce seems to calm down.

Once he ends the call, he hands the phone back to her and says, "Alfred says that some kind of magic made me small and that all of you are very important to me when I become big."

"You're strangely adorable," Steph says.

He frowns at that and he’s never before looked more like Damian.

“So, what do you like to do when you're bored?” Marinette asks, bending down in front of him and they all watch as one of the world’s greatest heroes rambles on about something his mom showed him last week.

.oOo.

This is the most they’ve ever heard Bruce talk about his parents and Alfred. They’re all listening intently about the woman who was their grandmother right now. Neither of them want to ask for more information. It wouldn't make sense to not know his parents if they were close to him. Alfred mentioned once that Marinette looks startlingly similar to Martha Wayne, Tim wonders if B’s picked up on it yet. Even if he has, Tim supposes, there wouldn’t be any reason for him to dwell on it as far as the Bruce in front of them is concerned his parents are alive and well.

They’ve all snuck pictures of him talking animatedly, he’s too carefree to notice, has no reason not to be. He’s already sent a few to Alfred and the others and immediately switched off notifications. Marinette and Damian do it too when their phones start blowing up, Steph’s just ignoring it and still taking photos and Cass is spamming them back.

He goes back to watching Bruce talk without the weight he’s been carrying in all the time Tim’s known him.

.oOo.

It's strange, Cass thinks, to see him like this. The closest he's ever been to this relaxed is when all of them are at the manor for something other than a gala or bat business.

She's alternating between listening to Bruce and tormenting her brothers who stayed back in Gotham. She’s sure if patrol wasn’t starting soon, they would’ve been here already for varying reasons.

She wonders if he’ll remember any of this when he comes back to normal, she’ll have to ask Marinette.

.oOo.

They moved to Marinette’s room in case the Dupain-Chengs check on them. Father’s taking a break from talking and is going through Marinette’s designs, Stephanie and Cassandra are with him. Drake seems to have taken on the responsibility of tormenting the others remaining in Gotham or he’s just texting his boyfriend, Damian doesn’t want to know.

He’s watching as the three of them go through Marinette’s designs, and watches as she gets progressively more flustered as they bury her in compliments, well mostly Stephanie, Cassandra and Father aren’t as vocal but it’s also the most he’s heard Father compliment someone sincerely.

It’s strange to think of the child in front of him as his father. He smiles a lot more and even laughed several times.

And then Stephanie mentions that Damian draws and Father’s asking him if he could look at his drawings. Damian offers him a small smile and unlocks his phone and shows him the recent painting of Titus, Alfred, Ace and Jerry and watches as his Father analyses the whole painting.

Maybe the child in front of him is not the father he’s gotten to know but it is nice to see him all the same.

.oOo.

Marinette’s starting to get worried. It’s been an hour and the others haven’t returned with the Akuma yet. They can��t keep tiny Bruce occupied forever. She’s considering transforming and checking it out when Tim pokes his head out from where he’s sitting on her bed and says, “hey Mari, delivery for you.”

Alya’s standing next to him with the akuma in a jar, looking confused. Marinette sighs, explaining this is going to be interesting.

She climbs up and heads to the balcony before transforming. Alya hands her the jar and Marinette purifies the akuma, calls for her lucky charm and throws it up in the air.

“So…” Alya starts, “wanna explain what that was about?”

“Family emergency. I’ll tell you about it later. Bye!” and then Marinette’s back in her room. Her siblings seem to be panicking and her dad’s not there. The Miraculous Ladybug should have taken him back to where he was. He’s probably standing in the middle of the street completely disoriented.

Detransforming she joins their discussion, or more accurately panicked argument, to let them know what happened. They’re all on their way to the Paris branch of WE in a few minutes. She’s sure one of the employees is bound to have found him and explained things to him but they’re still going just in case.

He’s attacked by hugs when they find him in the lobby of the building, he looks confused as to why but none of them offer any explanation. Steph’s the first one to pull away when her phone starts ringing.

“Shit. We forgot to tell Alfred everything’s fine again.”

Letting go of her dad, she checks her phone and there at the very top of her notifications is a missed call from Alfred. Just one, he’s not anything like the rest of the family as proven by the hundred notifications below that. Steph’s already picked up the call and handed it to B. Marinette sends Dick a message to let him know that everything’s back to normal and to please not come to Paris once patrol’s done.

There are people staring at them, which isn’t surprising but makes her uncomfortable all the same and she knows the rest of them probably feel the same, though Tim might've gotten used to it. They watch in silence as B finishes talking to Alfred and hands Steph’s phone back to her.

He looks over the bunch of them and asks, “did you have something to tell me?”

It feels like forever that they stand awkwardly looking at him before Marinette says, “nope! Nothing important,” and drags her siblings out of the building and back to the bakery. They can talk to him later and Damian’s yawning on their way back. It’s been one hell of a first day in Paris for them, she can’t wait for the rest of the week.

#the only reason this is on time is because ive had it written for a month #maribat #mbdbwm2021 #bio dad bruce wayne #my writing

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nalgenewhore · 4 years

Text

masterlist - ao3 - last chapter - next chapter

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Lorcan collapsed onto his back down on the cool grass, panting heavily and tossing a tattooed arm over his eyes.

He fucking hated cardio.

Hill sprints were the worst, but he had figured they would wake him up the best. As he caught his breath, he stared up at the pale blue sky, dotted with fluffy clouds, dyed orange from the sunrise.

There was nothing like the sunrises of his hometown and that quickly, Lorcan was cursing his aunt. She couldn’t have just let him be, let him resent his father for not being there, for never having time for him or his sisters.

Aneha and Sadirah hadn’t wanted him to go to Perranth, but Lorcan figured… he owed his father that much. To see someone of his blood on the throne, he supposed.

Elide was a complication. Since moving in, he had hardly seen her.

More often than not, he ate some sort of dinner with Rowan, the old friends catching up on the years they’d missed. Lorcan thought, out of everyone, Rowan’s reaction to his pursual was the one he’d dreaded the most.

He wouldn’t ever admit it, but he had been terrified. Their friendship and previous relationship had both been built on complete honesty. Rowan hadn’t been mad, per se, more hurt. Angered, but not angry, on Elide’s behalf.

Their relationship intrigued Lorcan. They acted not unlike him and his sisters.

His thoughts circled back to Elide, like always. Lorcan mentally berated himself, unable to wipe the look of hurt that flashed over her face when she saw him again. Fuck, why couldn’t he just mind his own business? She could handle herself.

Lorcan sat up, groaning in pain at the stiffness of his tired muscles. There’s a reason you don’t sit down after working out, dumbass, he thought to himself. He braced his hands behind him, pushing his body up.

A blurred form moved towards him, crashing into him. In his unbalanced state, Lorcan fell back and let out a soft grunt. He looked up, finding a very heavy dog standing on his chest. Before he could do anything, he heard someone cackling.

He couldn’t move, so he moved his head to the side, seeing Elide standing on the gravel path. She was laughing so hard, she had to bend over, her hands clutching her stomach. Lorcan rolled his eyes, turning his gaze back to the very fluffy animal. “Hey, bud,” he said, letting the dog sniff him.

Elide called for her pet, “Bear, c’mere!”

Bear snapped her head up, quickly bounding away and digging her back feet into Lorcan’s gut as a jumping off point. He swore low and slowly got to his feet. “Morning, Elide.”

“Fuck off and go fuck yourself,” she said in a fraudulently sweet voice, her round lips flashing him a honeyed grin.

He laughed, unable to control how he perked up when she gave him her attention, “Eat shit and die.” Lorcan didn’t miss the way she ogled his half-bare body. Her face went a bit slack as she tracked her gaze over his chest.

He could’ve sworn her cheeks pinked when they dipped lower. “Like the view, do you, sweetheart?” The moment the words left his mouth, her blush disappeared and she flipped him off before putting her earbuds back in and continuing on with her jog.

Lorcan cursed himself, watching her ass in her spandex shorts. He liked seeing her blush, would’ve liked to learn how else he could make her cheeks turn red without him pissing her off.

He had to remind himself Elide was a complication. Nothing more, nothing less.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Sweetheart.

Oh, how Elide loathed Lorcan Salvaterre with her entire being. Him being built like that only served to make her hate it that much more. People with chests as defined as his and his gods-damned Adonis belt… Anneith above. She forgot the point she was trying to make.

His tattoos fit him well. They were harsh, stark black against his skin, depicting what she assumed was a legend of his people, but she couldn’t tell.

She left Bear with the groundskeeper for the day and walked to the entertainment room. Aelin, Rowan, and Lysandra were sitting in the plush movie chairs. Ress, ever dutifully, stood beside the door, his arms crossed over his chest.

Elide threw herself down on the couch, scowling at the PowerPoint Lysandra and Aelin had put together of her options. “Let’s get this over with.” Aelin, from the chair closest to the couch, reached over and squeezed Elide’s knee reassuringly.

Elide softened, lacing her fingers through Aelin’s as Lysandra clicked the remote. “Alright, there are many options, Elide. First up, Duke Perrington of Adarlan.”

Looking at the slide, her instincts screamed no. Elide read the side profile next to his picture, which was less than promising. “Hmm, rich man… he’s only forty-two? He looks like he’s at least seventy years old.”

“I think that’s the drug problem,” Rowan commented, glaring at the screen. “Not him.”

Lysandra nodded and ticked something off on her list, clicking on the next slide, “Nox Owens? No title, but wealthy family, high education, early twenties…”

Elide tilted her head to the side, surveying the picture. He was handsome, fresh faced. Startlingly slate-grey eyes, his hair inky and falling artfully over his brow. There was a certain edge of mischief in his eyes that Elide appreciated. “And he’s from Perranth?”

“Mm-hmm. Has a business degree from Havilliard College for Boys,” Lysandra said, twirling her pen skillfully between her fingers. “What do you think?”

Elide hummed, drumming her fingers over the couch cushion. “Shortlist him. Do we have any non-Erilean options? A marriage would strengthen political ties.” Rowan shot her a look, displeased by her surgical, logical approach to it. Elide didn’t care. If she was being forced into a no-doubt loveless marriage, she might as well gain allies because of it.

“We do,” Aelin said, sighing softly as she took the remote from Lysandra and clicked through some of the options. Elide made her stop on one and turned, gawking at Aelin.

“Hollin Havilliard? The sixteen-year old?”

The queen shrugged, “They don't have a minimum marriageable age in Adarlan.”

“Well, we have one here,” Elide hissed, snatching the remote from her cousin. “I don’t need a new reason for the lords to hate me and marrying a child won’t exactly help me.” She shook her head, holding back a few very choice words back.

She clicked through the next few slides, shaking her head no at the Southern Empire’s eldest, Arghun and his younger brother, Kashin. “I have no interest in fighting for another crown.”

They debated and argued for the rest of the slideshow, all feeling frayed when they arrived at the very last slide.

Lysandra looked exhausted, slumping her shoulders, “And the last man is… Fenrys Marama, Lord of Doranelle.”

Rowan, who had just taken a sip of water, choked, coughing violently. The women looked at him curiously, their brows raised. Elide asked, “Are you alright?”

He nodded, his face bright red, “Yeah, I’m fine.” His voice was strained and he drank deeply from his glass. “Please, continue.”

Elide looked at him weirdly, but turned her attention back to Fenrys. “He’s so pretty,” she said, looking at the picture of him smiling. His teeth were straight and pearly white, one deep dimple on his right cheek. He wore his coily, dense hair in long, halfway thick locks. Gold wire cuffs adorned them sporadically, the light jewellery making an arresting contrast against his deep, umber complexion.

He had a short-bridged, wide nose that centred nicely on his face, the glint of a simple septum ring shining.

“What do we know about him?” she asked someone, the question directed at no one in particular.

“He isn’t set to inherit anything because he’s the second born twin to his brother, Connall. He’s twenty-two, just passed the LSAT with a 174 and has applied to a couple Terrasenian law schools,” Lysandra said. “Has a bit of a playboy reputation, but hasn’t been in any tabloids or articles for the past couple months.”

Someone made a strangled sound behind them. Elide turned, her face showing concern for Ress. “Ress, are you alright?”

Her bodyguard dropped his gaze, looking down at the carpeted floor, “Yeah, um, I just- excuse me for a minute.” He didn’t wait another second before fleeing from the room, the door slamming shut behind him.

They all looked at each other in bewilderment, utterly confused by Ress’ strange behaviour.

Aelin was the first to shrug, “He must not be feeling well.” Rowan nodded and stood up. “And where are you going?”

“I have to call someone,” he said smoothly, kissing her cheek and messing up Elide’s hair. “Bye, Lyss.”

Lysandra waved, spared by his juvelinity, “Good-bye, Rowan.” The silver-haired man closed the door quietly and his footsteps receded down the hall. “So, Fenrys?”

Elide looked at Aelin, nodding once, “Fenrys.”

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Rowan checked his watch again, anxiously looking at the time over and over. He felt like he could feel the light tick against his skin and it put him on edge.

Being on time had never exactly been Lorcan’s strong suit.

Two minutes later, Lorcan strolled into the bar, nodding serenely in recognition as their eyes met. He moved carefully through the packed bar, more mindful of his movements due to his larger stature.

There was already a glass of whiskey waiting for him as he slid onto the stool across the small table. “Hey, Ro,” he said, taking a slow sip of the amber liquor. “How’s, uh, Elide?”

Rowan shot Lorcan a look, warning him not to push it. “How do you think, Lorcan? She graduated university less than a month ago and now she’s getting married to someone she doesn’t fucking know.” He didn’t need to tell Lorcan it was his fault.

Lorcan flinched and averted his gaze, remorse shining in his dark eyes. “I… yeah.” He toyed with the elastic on his wrist, pulling it back and letting it snap against his skin over and over. Eventually, he shoved his hair into a messy bun at his nape, his fingers drumming restlessly over the table. “Did she find someone?”

Rowan leaned back on his seat, cocking his head to the side, “What’s it to you?”

Lorcan shrugging, “Nothing, I don’t care either way.” Rowan snorted, shaking his head as he sipped on his drink. “What? Who is it? Don’t tell me it’s someone like Perrington or any Adarlanian guy.”

“Thought you didn’t care,” Rowan said, his interest piqued by Lorcan’s… consideration. That he cared enough to know who an eligible husband would be. It made some sense, he would’ve planned this out with Maeve and Vernon.

Rowan pushed away the thought that Lorcan wouldn’t do that. He couldn’t think about that now.

“I don’t care, but if the first time we met, I… I dunno, saved her, I guess, from some gross little lordling. It’d be hypocritical of me to force a marriage between her and some junkie like Perrington,” Lorcan said, staring down at his whiskey like the crystal glass held all the answers of the universe.

“Why did you dance with her, Lor,” Rowan asked quietly, his voice tired.

Lorcan muttered something, his shoulders curling down, “She looked like she needed help. I know I’m a prick, but not that kind.” He knocked back the rest of his drink, grabbing Rowan’s empty glass as he got up to walk over to the bar. Lorcan stepped away, pausing when a thought crossed his mind. “So did they choose?”

“Yeah,” Rowan said, meeting Lorcan’s nervous gaze. “They did.”

“Hellas, Ro, fucking tell me already.”

“It’s Fen.”

+*+*+*+*+*+*

an: .....hehe 🤭

more: Fenrys' last name "marama" means light in a variety of polynesian languages ! ummm basically i think moonbeam is a stupid name and so did my lovely friend ezra @tinywolfofeyllwe so he came up with this name ! all creds go to him and im very thankful he lets me use it haha

also ! both lorcan's sisters' names (aneha and sadirah) are tweaked from stars/constellations i thought were pretty ! this will be more apparent later, but i write lorcan as indigenous in all my fics (specifically lakota) so just keep that in mind for the future !

@mythicaitt @tinywolfofeyllwe @schmlip-scribble @the-regal-warrior @empire-of-wildfire @ladyverena @ttakeitbacknoww @shyvioletcat @alifletcher2012 @tswaney17 @ourbooksuniverse @flora-and-fae @thesirenwashere @queenofxhearts @maastrash @mynewdreamwasyou @cursebreaker29 @empress-ofbloodshed @b00kworm @hizqueen4life @silversprings98 @amren-courtofdreams @minaidss @superspiritfestival @sanakapoor @ireallyshouldsleeprn @spyofthenightcourt @januarystears @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @magicalunicorngypsy @elriel4life

#knowing me knowing you #kmky chapter five #princess diaries au #elorcan #elide x lorcan #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #isa writes #nalgenewhore #i told u there was more drama

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saturatedboy · 3 years

Text

Lord Heisenberg X Male!OC

New and first story series! This involves a male OC, however be free to use your own name instead. This book won’t exactly follow the plot of RE8, however ideas will be taken from it.

Male!Oc- Leonardo is a 27 year old male that works within a distance village called ‘Village of Ram’. Reason for it’s name is that its hidden away behind many mountains. His job includes being a literacy teacher within a new still-in-construction school. On the side lines he is a journalist, using his findings to post through the Duke to spread around the other villages. However not all his stories can have a happy ending, and I fear the story he’s within won’t go to plan. Would his story be complete with a happy ending, or will he loose- may the pages of his story be turned.

Warnings: Mentions the use of alcohol

Words: 3K

The Slaughter of the Ram

Chapter 1

They all stared at him with a lost look in each and every one of their eyes. Some had heads down, others blinked away any boredom that snuck in through the words that came from his mouth and the rest were whispering amongst themselves with a few giggles escaping. They really didn’t want to be here but they were forced by the leaders of their home to. It wasn’t like they could get education anywhere else.

The sudden chime of a bell ringing had woken most of the young. Them all being swift in gathering their things together. The older male stood with chalk in hand, watching the young pack away equipment such as pencils, paper and books. Smiling at their eagerness to leave his class, with a clear throat he spoke over the loudness that they were causing with their chairs and voices. “Read pages 12 to 16 of ‘Mid-Summer Night Dream’ please in your break!” A chorus of groans left most of their mouths leaving the male at the front to chuckle. “I know you all are enjoying it all!”

“Sir, must we read? It’s Summer break-”

“Since when do we have Summer break here? You know it’s always Winter here Robert.” The girl with a high bun, neatly wrapped with a silk ribbon had spoken up as she gently flicked the boy named Robert on his forehead.

“So, Charity, it’s still Summer-” He shot back, grabbing her wrist before she could give him another flick. She struggled out of his grip, moving her arm about as she smiled at the others playfulness. The oldest male cleared his throat having heads turn towards him. With a silent chuckle, he banged his fist against his chest a couple of times to clear his throat fully before speaking.

“And here I thought you all wanted to go home.” Just as quick as the words left his throat, his future generation had scrambled out of the door and filed into the very small hallways to escape through the front. He stood there for a minute or two, waiting for all the students to leave fully before turning to face his desk and gathering his own equipment and papers to mark. Being in thought about his next meal of the night, he was drawn back out by a knock against wood.

“Knock knock, it’s your favourite.” A feminine voice that had the tone of a mother had spoken from behind him. Placing the last paper into his messenger bag, he stood and turned to face the old visitor with a bright smile. Leaning against his open door was a woman with blonde hair that was slightly mangled from her usual bonnet that she would wear that was now resting on her shoulders. Her green dress with an apron over the top had reached her ankles which feet was accompanied by black doll-shoes.

“Catherine, great to see you. How were the lessons? Heard you have some new sprouts.” The sudden expression change that came from her explained the whole day to him instantly. With a heavy sigh, she placed her bonnet back onto her head and spoke.

“They were terrible. I’m not even joking. They don’t understand how to make soup. Soup I tell you!” she continued to ramble on about her day, expressing her hatred towards the new students and old ones that she herself had to teach for cookery class. “-And then I told her to put her utensils back and-Hey! Are you even listening to me?” A pout fronted her lips, brows furrowed as she stared at the male with arms crossed over her chest as she watched him stare into space. With a harsh nudged of her, he blinked his eyes and turned t face her, hair swaying with his movement. With a smile and neck scratch, he spoke.

“I’m sorry Catherine. All this talk about food is making me thirsty. Say, would you like to join me at the Inn? I’m pretty sure some whiskey would move all your problems away.” He suggested, adjusting his messenger bag over his shoulder and rolling his beige sleeves up to his elbows. With a soft sigh, the woman placed her bonnet on and brushed her dress down, getting rid of any wrinkles easily.

“Only if you’re paying, and I’ll take my usual of scotch thank you.” Together they walked, arms linked out of the room and school that was still being built. The snow wisped around them, being gentler as it lightly touched their exposed skin. With the walk being silent, they could hear the joyful cries of smaller children playing with sticks and others having the usual game of a snow ball fight. The sight made Catherine cringe. “Children, they are so much to handle.” she expressed her hatred through bending down gathering snow and then throwing a snowball at a child that was in her classroom that day. “And that’s for running with a knife!” She exclaimed as the child that got hit only laughed with a thumbs up, using their other hand to wipe the snow off her arm.

“You mustn't hurt the children; they are the reason this village will be up and running still in times yet to come.” The older male spoke, placing his arm back out for Catherine to grab, which she did almost immediately. Catherine sighed and rolled her eyes, tutting at his words.

“Now Leo, you know very much that if these children aren’t taught manners, then how could they ever survive. Haven’t you heard the news from the Village of Shadows?” She asked, however the older male, Leonardo, stayed quiet. She continued as the Inn was slowly getting closer in their reach. “Apparently mutant sorts of dogs have been wandering about, snatching children left and right. A young girl, age 14 I think, was attacked but luckily survived as her father with his buddies shot at the beast. Wicked I tell you, scarily wicked.”

They reached the Inn at the end of her words, a now unsettling aura around them both. Leo pondered to himself, being caught up in his thoughts as usual. ‘If the centre village is being attacked, then why haven’t they cancelled the festival for two days' time?’ Being dragged into the Inn, Leo huffed and coughed slightly at the sudden smell of cigars blocking his nose. The stench was something he had yet to still get comfortable with however he would deal with it for now. Letting Catherine lead him, Leo looked around the now bustling room of other men and woman, some children falling asleep in the wooden booths to small babies nestle in their mothers' grasps. Waving to familiar faces as he passed them, he quickly settles down at the bar as Catherine sat beside him. “Would you look at her,” She sighed dreamily. Watching her line of vision, Leo followed it to have his vision set on a beautiful woman. Long brown hair reaching her hips, a brow dress reaching the floor with a daisy took behind her ear. She was enjoying a glass of water with some other people that Leo hadn’t set a name with the faces.

“I swear we only come here for you to gush over women.” Leo snarked, rolling his eyes at his friends' actions of whistling loudly grabbing the attention of the girl who blushed deeply in return. Leaning back against the bar top, Catherine giggled and she raised her hand up to call for the bar tenders' attention.

“What can I say, women are really pretty and you can't say much, what about you and Aaron? What happened there?” Her question aa caught in the air as she held a finger up to keep Leo silent, telling the bar tender their orders of whiskey and scotch. It was only after the tender had written down their orders that she signalled Leo to carry on as she turned on her buffet to instead sit straight and look at the lines of bottles behind the bar.

With a groan, Leo dropped his head onto the wooden top as he turned his face to look at her. “He let for another village, asked if I wanted to come. I declined and so he left without any trace of a ‘goodbye’ to me.” Catherine pursed her lips together, only for her lips to stretch into a smirk.

“So, writing boy is free to date hmm~?”

“No, I am not. I enjoy being single and I don’t need no man in my life.” Beside him, Catherine held her laugh. Her faced flushed in red as she tried to keep her composure. With a hard slap on his back, Leo jerked up and sat with an angry look on his face. “Hey, what was that for?!”

“I just felt like it. All this talk about love is making me thirsty- EY BAR TENDER, PASS OUR DRINKS WILL YA!” With a nod from the said other, the bar tender came over to them dropping their drinks on the counter and nodding to them. With muttered ‘thanks’ of the best friends, he walked away to tend to other customers.

Both sat in minable silence, the odd talk about classes to talk about summer ideas passed through their conversations. As the night became young, the pace began to get more crowded and louder. Someone had started to play the harmonica, Catherine had wobbled away from Leo in search of the girl she called beautiful, the place began bustling with smokers and soon, Leonardo had turned on his buffet to watch everything go down. Smiling, he watched as happy couples were on the make-shift dance floor as a small band played, children were running in and out of the doorway and the odd student came up to Leo to ask about the pages they must read. “Just those would do, now go enjoy your night and holiday.” With a loose hand shake, the student ran off again into the crowd of people. Leo scrunched his nose as he downed his 4th glass of the night. The fiery taste burned his throat yet he was still perfectly fine. Looking around the room, he spotted multiple photos hanging of ‘Mother Miranda’. She was Somone that his community and others worshipped. She was their god in their eyes. Although Leo didn't quite understand her, he had his own hopes he wished to grant to her however dreaming is one thing to reality.

Just above the doorway was a sketch of his entire village. ‘Village of the Ram’ was quoted at the bottom of the sketch. There were multiple villages in the area, however his village had mostly resided away from Castle Dimitrescu as he remembered. Words between villages was sent through post by the duke. A large man who acted as a father to all. He was sweet, something Leo did find attractive however The Duke was far from his type. If he didn’t travel every day, Leo was sure to find himself maybe even falling in love with him however he treasures the fact both were close friends- but that never stopped him from never getting a discount of the other.

Placing his empty glass back onto the bar top, the noise from the bell of the door along with gasps and the sudden stop of music had caught his full attention. Turning towards where everyone was looking, the door was wide open with a fairly tall man standing in the way. With long strides, the man had walked in, banging the door close behind him. Murmured talk between everyone erupted at the visitor. The free and enjoyable air that was in the atmosphere had let as it was placed with an uncomfortable sense of feeling. “Ignore me will ya.” The deep, husky voice spoke as everyone went back to what they were doing. Music had started to play again as the new visitor had stride his way up.

Leo stared at the man, taking in his features as he walked practically up to him. Not wanting to attract attention to himself, he spun back around on his buffet and asked the bar tender that was nearby to order him another glass of whiskey. The tender placed the glass he was drying down and went to do as commanded. Leo had stated to take notes in his mind. ‘Big guy, sunglasses blocking his vision, fair long stipple of beard growing, really nice grey hair to compliment his face- overall the fucking Lord Heisenberg.’ Thanking again to the bar tender, Leo kept his eyes on his refilled glass that was stirring with his chosen liquid. He tried his best to keep his breathing down as the Lord of the Village of Shadows had taken the seat next to him. With a shaky hand, Leo sipped his drink this time only to have his eyes wander to look at the man beside him. To his shock, he could see behind the sunglasses to have a pair of greenish yellow eyes staring back at him. Pretending he wasn’t looking; Leo slowly turned his eyesight back onto his drink as he placed the half empty shot glass down. “I’ll have what he’s having.” The same deep voice spoke.

Distracting himself from the talk about him, Leonardo ran a hand through his fairly long hazel hair and pulled it back into a ponytail, using a bobble he had solen of Catherine to tie his hair back. Two loose stands fell in front of his face framing his jawline. “Do I get the pleasure of knowing the young man's name?” The lord asked, turning his larger frame to face Leo.

Biting his lip, Leo turned his head to face him, being greeted again with the same eyes that felt captivating. Without a second thought, he spilt his name. “Leonardo- or Leo would do.”

The Lord smiled in satisfaction, a smirk stretching his lips. “So, you are more than staring!” He exclaimed, catching the attention of a few nearby people who were also sat at the bar, however as soon as they noticed it was the Lord speaking, they turned their heads quickly to carry on with their conversation. Biting back his frustration, Leo spoke up in a much harsher tone forgetting who he was dealing with.

“I’ll have you know it was you staring at me first you-”

A hand pulled on his shirt collar, making him look at the culprit. Catherine was there with the woman from before clinging onto her arm. “My apologise Lord Heisenberg, my friend appears to be drunk.”

“I’d have you know I am no light drinker; he was staring at me-” Catherine slapped her hand over his mouth and began to pull on Leo’s shirt.

“Looks like the alcohol is getting to him. C’mon it's time to go Leonardo.” Heisenberg waved the bar tender away as he placed down his drink of the same liquid as Leo.

“It’s quite alright miss, I find your friends attitude towards me quite...intoxicating.” Heisenberg leaned to grab his shot glass, only to down the whole drink in a mere second. Slamming the glass back not the top, he swung an arm over Leo’s shoulder and pulled him away from Catherine’s grasp. “It’s not every day I see new villages with such Firey attitude. I think I may stay around a little longer, what do you say Leonardo?”

Leo groaned; he could start to feel the effect of the alcohol seeping into his blood stream. Oh, to just pass out in Catherine’s arms would be amazing. “You may be a Lord but that doesn’t mean you weren’t staring at me first.”

“Leo, drop it already.” Catherine hissed, bringing the woman on her arm behind her as she glared at Leonardo. Leo shook his head, letting the alcohol take over his movements as he slowly began to get tipsy.

“He looked at me though,” He whined, pouting as he shot a glare of his own at the Lord who smiled in return. Oh, how he was loving this. The way Leo swayed slightly, to his slightly muscled arms being free and on show for him. To say a man was having such an effect on him that he couldn’t understand, he was enjoying every moment of this.

“How could I not look; you are like the Ram of the village aren’t you.” Heisenberg let Leo’s body fall against his, his arms wrapping almost immediately around his front. Catherine shook in her boots; her friend was at the mercy of the lord’s grasp. “Strong arms with an attitude to prove strength by. So fascinating.” Heisenberg hands got tighter as he pulled Leo closer to him, his scent of chalk and a whiff of whiskey became an instant comfortable smell.

Catherine watched her friend in worry, he was getting less sober by the second whilst she was gaining her composure to be sober. “Not to be rude but I think it's time I take my friend home Lord Heisenberg.” Catherine spoke, twiddling her fingers as the Lor stared at her with an unamused look.

“He’ll be fine. This is a 24-hour Inn, right? I’ll stay with him until he wakes up. Don’t worry, I won’t do anything to a Ram like him.” Catherine balled her fist. Here her friend was half awake and half asleep and she knew she couldn’t do much against a Lord. She sighed and nodded, trusting him with his words as she turned on her heel and walked away, the smaller lady following her.

Heisenberg turned his attention back onto the male named Leonardo. ‘Such a pretty little thing, too bad you're a little annoying- or maybe it's because of the alcohol.’ Heisenberg thought as he placed Leo’s head onto the counter carefully, letting his whole slightly taller than average frame fall against the counter. Heisenberg watched as he slept, this was sure an interesting interaction.

He only came to here explore the other villages, for Mother Miranda to have some new bodies for the experiments. He never suspected to already be caught up in weird feelings with some random boy. He only knew his name anyway. “Leonardo,” He smirked to himself, pulling out a cigar from his pocket and lighting it. “Leo-...nardo.” He repeated but more slowly this time. The syllabus that rolled of his tongue felt good. The name was perfect. Looking at the sleeping male one more time, Heisenberg took a drag from his lit cigar. “Leonardo, Strongest Ram in the mountains.”

#Heisenberg #LordHeisenberg #lord heisenberg #xreader #maleoc #karlheisenbergxmaleoc #oneshot #residentevil8 #villageintheshadows #Theslaughteroftheram #RE8 #karl hesienberg #lord karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x male #karl heisenberg x male oc #xmaleoc

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fictionadventurer · 3 years

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Top 5 unpublished stories (unfinished, in-progress, etc. yours or others' - things posted on tumblr fit, but not indie or traditional publishing)

To be clear, I’m limiting this to:

Works that have at least a partial scene drafted. If it exists only in outline or in idea form, it’s ineligible. There has to be some writing for me to reread and like.

Stories that are not current WIPs.

So, in no particular order, here are five favorites that I’m fond of.

(Warning: Very Long Post)

1. Airship Sleeping Beauty.

In this world, parents buy fairy gifts for their children at birth. Most people are limited to two or three. Seraphina Crowne (please call her Sara) was gifted with twelve. Her impoverished parents had friends among fairy kind who were able to bend the rules to give this child enough gifts to survive in their harsh environment. Thus, Sara has everything from enhanced beauty and grace to strength and speed and musical skill, which makes her an unstoppable force of (super)nature. She loves a challenge and decides to support her parents by becoming a sailor on a flying sailing ship, where she rockets up through the ranks.

Our POV character is Jack Sanders, who serves under her as second lieutenant. Jack has spent years struggling through the ranks with only one unsuitable fairy gift. The father who chose his gift was an insomniac, and gave his son the gift of helping people fall asleep. Surrounded by people with more useful skills like strength or navigation, Jack languished as a midshipman for years until he served under a captain who realized the greater uses of his gift. Jack hates Seraphina Crowne, assuming that she’s the daughter of a rich man who has enough money to bend all the fairy gifting rules for his precious princess.

As they travel through a tropical land, they run into many adventures, and Jack starts to respect Sara. He learns that she comes from a much less privileged background than he’d assumed, and they slowly become friends. Then one day, they’re taking a day of shore leave on a flying island when they get into a fight with some local ruffians. Sara falls over the edge and is impaled on one of the metal spikes that serve as a barrier between the island and the open sky. But she doesn’t die. She climbs up with a gaping hole through her torso, and the should-be fatal wound heals within hours.

Sara is forced to tell Jack her greatest secret--she actually has a (highly illegal) thirteenth gift. Her mother’s greatest friend among fairy kind was a fairy who was banished from the guild for giving gifts that were too powerful. This fairy wanted to make absolutely certain that her friend couldn’t possibly lose this child at a young age. Her gift to Sara was that she would die by being pricked on the spindle of a spinning wheel--which means that nothing else can kill her. Not disease, injury, old age--she is invulnerable as long as she stays away from spinning wheels, which is easy to do in this industrialized age when your average person has never seen such a thing.

Jack promises to keep Sara’s secret and they return to the ship. But Jack isn’t the only one who heard her confession. There’s a local airship pirate who supports his business by adopting infants and getting them the illegal fairy gift of being able to transform into birds. One of these bird-children also heard Sara’s story, and they inform their pirate father, who make plans to attack the ship and take out its most powerful asset.

I never finished the story because the climax falls apart. The pirates were going to attack and stab Sara, but Jack is able to stall her death by putting her to sleep--and I could never figure out a way to save Sara without it feeling cheap and predictable and/or detouring into a completely different plotline that takes us away from the story. But I think of the rest of it as one of the best fairy tale retellings I never wrote.

2. Faraway House

This one is my middle-grade portal fantasy for adults. Mara meets Adrian, a mysterious, magical man whose house sits in a space that connects to three different universes--ours, one that has a more medieval fairy tale vibe, and one that’s more steampunky and involves lots of chimeras and people with animal traits. People in need of help tend to fall into this in-between space, and Adrian lets them stay at Faraway House for as long as they need.

There are tons of characters who drop into this story and provide little subplots, but my favorite part was an overarching plotline involving Adrian and Mara. Adrian, who was originally from the fairy tale world, was the evil magician of every childhood nightmare, a powerful man who did all sorts of horrible things to people. He became obsessed with immortality and eventually got it--at a great price to the rest of the world and to himself. He was caught, stripped of a lot of power, and left to live his long life and see the consequences of his actions. He spent a few centuries wandering the three different worlds and undergoing a ton of character development. As a newly humbled man, he was given charge of Faraway House, since his magical talents would be valuable to keep the area and the portals stable. Now, he’s the nicest, sweetest guy you’d ever want to meet. He rarely tells anyone about his past, and most people wouldn’t believe it if you told them.

Anyhow, after Mara’s been staying at Faraway for a long time, she and Adrian go through a portal that links to Adrian’s home universe. They soon realize that it links to his world several centuries in the past, when Evil Adrian was at the height of his power. And he’s very interested in Mara, because her adventures in Faraway have given her some kind of magic that will help him reach the Well of Immortality (or something like that--it’s a very nebulous, fairy tale idea). Unfortunately, taking this magic will kill Mara, so Older Adrian does all he can to save Mara. He succeeds and gets her back home. But his younger self is still on the lookout for her, and he eventually makes his way to Faraway, where he drains the magic and escapes, leaving Mara dying.

And I know this is the most cliche way to end this, but I like my stories predictable and cheesy, and Older Adrian ends up saving Mara by giving up his immortality, which kills him. It’s all very Disney-moving. The story ends with Mara being made the new caretaker of Faraway. And I give away the ending because I’m never going to write this, but I’m still fonder of this story than it deserves.

3. The Island

Anne of Green Gables meets fairy tales.

The Island is a place full of magic. Amphibious mermaids swim along its shores. A fairy forest fills the heart of the Island. Selkie live on the tiny islands off its shore. Pixies cause trouble in the farmyard’s back garden. It’s amazing to the relatively low-magic areas of the rest of the world, but it’s all part of daily life to the farmers and fishermen who live here.

The Fairy’s Daughters, a retelling of “The Twelve Dancing Princesses”, had the most words written in it, but I think I’m fonder of some of the shorter sketches set a generation earlier that highlight little bits and pieces of the world. I started with the tale of Lizbet, an ordinary orphan girl living with her aunt who befriends Gideon, a half-fairy boy who eventually becomes the town’s magical doctor. Their friends include the widow lighthouse keeper who tries to adopt an orphan boy and is surprised to get Amy, who’s a girl--and a mermaid. There’s Captain Avery, a fierce-looking old sailor with a gentle heart and a surprising amount of experience with magical creatures. There’s Auberon, a fairy prince and eventually king who’s racist against humans, spends some of his younger years traveling in human lands to import human-made products, and becomes even more racist because of it.

I think my favorite thing in this universe are the sylphs. I borrowed Andersen’s idea of the “Daughters of the Air”, and made my sylphs into invisible, benevolent creatures who do good deeds for people, and can accomplish magical feats far beyond what any fairy can do. The sketch I reread most often is a scene where Amy, out for a swim in a storm, is rescued by a sylph who has taken a human (though translucent) form, and gets invited in for tea by Amy’s grateful friends.

It’s a fun universe to play in, but not one that I’m very good at finishing stories in, so I think it needs to stay as a pretty aesthetic and a fun sandbox.

4. Clever Anne

A retelling of “Kate Crackernuts” set in a non-magical Regency-esque setting. Anne is the beautiful, intelligent daughter of a duke. Kate is her bold, daring stepsister. They are deeply devoted to each other, but Kate’s mother hates Anne for being so much more beautiful than her daughter. She gets one of the servants to push Anne into the embers of the fire, leaving her face badly burned. Kate throws a veil over Anne’s face and gets her out of the house, insisting they’ll go off to make their fortune.

Anne was childhood friends with a young man who, through a convoluted succession crisis, unexpectedly finds himself on the throne. They stumble upon him in their travels, and find themselves able to help him by investigating the mysterious behavior of his half-brother, who resents that he was passed over for the throne and may be plotting something sinister. I was never able to figure out a good political-intrigue parallel to the “dancing all night with fairies” portion of the plot, so it never got written. The only really good scene I wrote from this story was the moment where Kate finds out about Anne’s injury and insists on leaving the house. But even in that one scene, their relationship is so strong and so vivid in my mind that I love their story even if I never finish it.

5. The Beast’s Mechanic

This is the one on the list that’s closest to being a WIP. I actually edited some of the beginning in March. It’s a sci-fi take on “Beauty and the Beast” set in a world where two planetary empires are at war. The war destroyed Monique’s father’s shipping business, forcing the whole family to move to a desert planet where they run a small spaceport. Monique is a top-notch mechanic, her sister Gemma is a pilot, Gemma’s twin Joanne stays at home to take care of the house and the two youngest siblings, and Leo is a seventeen-year-old rapscallion who is desperate to join the war as soon as possible.

Their world is upended when, for the first time in years, their mother wants to meet with them. A former starship captain, she and her husband disagreed over the war, and she left the family years ago to join the war effort. But now her starship is in for repairs and she wants to take some time to reconnect with her family. There’s some controversy among the family--do they really want to open these wounds again when they’ve finally moved on?--but Monique the peacemaker insists that, even though it’s impossible for the whole family to make the trip, her father should take the chance. He goes to meet his wife, but on the way there, his spaceship breaks down in the middle of nowhere, and he’s rescued by the Beast, an infamous cyborg outlaw. He also breaks important equipment on the Beast’s ship, and is only able to keep from being thrown out of the airlock by insisting that his daughter can fix it.

Monique nearly does, except that the authorities show up just before she’s done with repairs, forcing the Beast to take off with her in the ship. She comes to learn that the Beast is far from an evil criminal and has been helping people wronged by the government, and she helps him get home to his family (in the enemy empire), but her patriotic starship captain of a mother takes all of these events in very much the wrong light.

I’m very fond of this story for the ways that it avoids some of the usual BatB retelling tropes. There’s much more to this story than the romance, and little focus on the mystery of how the Beast became a Beast, and there’s much more focus on family. The Beast hasn’t even shown up yet, but I’m just incredibly fond of Monique’s family and their everyday working-class life on a desert planet. I hope I can make more progress on it someday.

#answered asks #valiantarcher #adventures in writing #the fairy's daughters #clever anne #i very much loved this ask and i'm sorry for taking so long to get to it #but i'm hoping the extreme length will go some way to explaining why i delayed so long #i've been wanting to do a 'best stories i've never written' feature for quite some time and you gave me the perfect chance to do it #so i waited until i was able to ramble on at length #and i'm extremely grateful for the opportunity

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barbaracleboy · 3 years

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Royal Kombat...Training

Another little Blurb, this one being more comedic again: not as silly as the Santa Claus one, but still.

One day, Queen Bianca invited Queen Elizant II to The Hive, but this time was somewhat unusual. While normally, Bianca’s messages would say things like “I would love for you to come so that we can chat personally!” or “You and I should go to the Golden Settlement together!”, this time the message simply said “Please come to The Hive at your earliest convenience, and be at your best status: I have a proposition to make.” Bianca did not request things from Elizant very often: she was typically more of a giver than a taker, so the message was slightly strange to Elizant. Elizant came anyway, having little reason not to trust Bianca. When she came to The Hive she was greeted by some guards and was led to Bianca’s throne room. There she saw the Bee Queen, who excitedly came over and gave her a big hug.

Bianca: Oh, Elizant, I am so glad you made it! Not that anything but your own will could stop you, of course! And as usual, you appear to be in tip-top shape!

Elizant: Yes, Bianca, I am glad to see you well also…

Bianca: So, would you like some tea? I made a special blend today: it’s lacking in the usual honey but it makes up for that in nutrition!

Elizant: That, er, could be nice...Bianca, what was your...proposition?

Bianca stopped for a moment before blushing, apparently having been caught a tad off-guard.

Bianca: Ha, I-I didn’t expect you to bring it up so quickly…

Elizant: It just wasn’t what I tend to hear from you.

Bianca: I suppose so...oh, now that the time has seemingly come I somewhat regret asking in the first place…

Elizant: We’re friends, Bianca, you can ask.

Bianca:...You promise it won’t be a bother?

Elizant: Well, I don’t quite know enough to promise much of anything.

Bianca:...Mm...you are a very strong woman, Elizant.

Elizant was a little flustered by the remark, and now she was the one blushing (though, luckily for her, her mask hid it).

Elizant: Err...thank you? What does that-

Bianca: You train your soldiers, do you not? At least some of them?

Elizant: Indeed I do: I have trained Zaryant and my Lieutenant, as well as a few other high-ranking warriors. I have even given some training to Team Maki.

Bianca: Excellent, you have experience with combat training! That was just what I was hoping for!

Elizant:...Bianca, you weren’t going to ask me for a hit on someone, were you?

Bianca: What-no! Of course not, I would never!

Elizant: Well, I would hope not...what did you want then?

Bianca looked to the ground for a moment, contemplating, before gathering her courage and turning back to her fellow royal.

Bianca: I...I wish for you to train me.

Elizant was completely surprised by the question, and for a brief moment she thought she had heard Bianca wrong.

Elizant: Train you? Like in combat?

Bianca: Yes!

Elizant: But aren’t you-

Bianca: A pacifist, yes. However, I admire your battle capabilities so much. I must admit that my physical state is a tad...lacking for physical confrontations, and this stinger is only so useful.

Elizant: Bianca, you needn’t feel bad for how you do in battle. Ants are naturally quite powerful.

Bianca: I know that, but even a fraction of that power would be more than satisfactory for me. Besides, if you train me, I can potentially train my daughters, and we will be much more capable of protecting ourselves and those we care about! Even if I don’t wish to harm anyone, it would be in my best interest to ensure that none could harm me or mine.

Elizant was not at all expecting this level of enthusiasm to fight from Bianca. She did care much for her hive, though, so it did make sense for her to want to protect it as best as she could.

Elizant: Hmm...you make some compelling arguments, Bianca. Very well, then! I shall train you to the best of my ability, and by the end of this I intend to give you might worthy of an Ant!!!

Bianca jumped for joy and clapped upon hearing this.

Bianca: Oohoohoo, thank you so much, Elizant! (To Some Guards) Brianne, Hannah, please bring the training dummies in here!

Brianne and Hannah: Yes, your highness!

As the two guards left to get the dummies, Bianca turned to her friend with a look of excitement.

Bianca: So, what will we work on first?

Elizant: Hmm...I feel that we should train your legs first: we will begin with some snap kicks. Watch me.

Elizant stood firmly before lifting up one of her legs, bending it so that her knee was almost level to her chest.

Elizant: Now, you do not need to keep your leg this high up: how high you bring your knee can assist with how high your kicks can go.

Bianca: I see. Hmm…

Bianca attempted to lift her leg in the same way Elizant did, but she was clearly struggling with it. Bianca was trembling before her knee was even up to her waist.

Elizant: A-again, Bianca, you do not need to keep your leg that high…

Bianca: I-I-I know, b-b-but I th-think it would help...with…

Bianca loses her balance and falls to the floor with a small yelp.

Elizant: You know, Bianca, balance is very important to good fighting form...have you considered using your wings to help?

Bianca: Ughhh...with all due respect, Elizant, I feel that I will be at my best if I avoid using any crutches, literal or otherwise.

Elizant: Suit yourself…

Elizant was starting to get concerned for Bianca's wellbeing, and as she helped her friend back up the guards had come back with a couple blocks of wood.

Elizant:...Are these your training dummies?

Hannah: Yes, Queen Elizant! They are excellent tools with which to improve our halberd proficiency.

Brianne: [Help with stress relief too…]

Elizant: Somewhat thick for use in hand-to-hand training, are they not?

Bianca: Oh, Elizant, don’t undersell yourself: I am entirely certain you can put those dummies to great use!

Elizant: Well, I-I was actually concerned more for-

Bianca: Why not test a snap kick of yours on one of them? Give me a frame of reference?

Elizant sighed before stepping in front of one of the dummies and unleashing a kick on it. This was not too strong a kick, but it was enough to knock the dummy high up, crashing it into the wall above the throne room doors. As it falls back to the ground, the Bees in the room show amazement at the Ant Queen’s strength.

Hannah and Brianne: WOAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!

Bianca: Oh, that is so very impressive, Elizant! (To The Guards) Hannah, Brianne, please take no offense but may you two leave for a moment? Just so Elizant and I can focus on our training better?

Brianne: Are you certain, your majesty?

Elizant: Yes, a-are you?

Bianca: Of course, it’s just a little friendly sparring.

Elizant and The Guards: Sparring?

Bianca: Sparring, training; my point is that by the time we’re through I hope to be a much more powerful Queen. And besides, with Elizant here I doubt I would need to fear any threats.

Hannah: If you say so, Queen Bianca…

As the two guards leave the room, Elizant turns to Bianca again, concern hidden on her face but very much emanating from her person.

Elizant: B-Bianca...would...would you like to attempt kicking one of these dummies?

Bianca: Oh, of course!

Bianca turned to one of the dummies and gave it a sloppy attempt at a kick...the dummy barely reacts, but Bianca tears up a tad and clutches her foot in pain.

Elizant: L-look, Bianca, there other ways to fight in close quarters. Take one of my blades.

As Elizant pulls out her swords and hands one to her friend, Bianca takes a turn to give a concerned look to her.

Bianca: You don’t mind giving me one?

Elizant: I have spares.

Bianca: You are so generous!

Elizant responds with a simple “Mhm” as she brings the dummy she kicked moments ago back to where it was originally placed.

Elizant: Now, in good swordplay, form and steadiness are just as important, if not moreso, than the pure force of your swing. Observe.

Elizant takes her blade and, in the blink of an eye, slices her dummy clean in half, once more amazing Bianca.

Elizant: See that? A clean, straight slice. Not only should you swing hard and fast, but you should hold your sword tight and swing as straight as you can.

Bianca: Understood!

Bianca gives her dummy a fierce look before swinging her blade. Unfortunately, she does little more than nick a little of the dummy’s top.

Elizant: Tsk, see, your swing was a tad wavy there. Try again.

Bianca does, but this time she hardly even chips the dummy, dealing less damage than last time.

Elizant: There your swing was too slow: remember, swing steady but fast.

Bianca: Steady but fast...steady but fast…

Bianca tries one more time to cut the dummy...and gets her sword lodged into it. Elizant tries to stifle her laughter, but a little does escape. The Bee Queen doesn’t notice, though, too busy trying to get the sword out.

Bianca: I-it’s stuck!

Elizant: (Chuckles) Bianca, let me help you.

Bianca: I am so silly, how did it get stuck?!

Elizant: I-it’s fine, Bianca, this sort of thing happened to me plenty of times…[when I was a teenager].

Bianca: I need to get...it…

The sword is removed...and flung straight up into the air. The two Queens scramble for a moment, trying to determine where the sword will land. Bianca stops and nearly screams when it lands hilt-first into her fluff, the blade scarily close to her face. Elizant is most certainly done laughing now, and she comes over to get the sword back.

Elizant: Really, Bianca, you do not need to force yourself to be a fighter. You can-

Bianca: I do not wish to be a fighter, I wish to be capable of fighting...Aha! Fisticuffs!

Bianca puts up her dukes and gives Elizant a determined look. Under her mask, Elizant gives Bianca the most worried look she had given anyone in a long time.

Elizant:...Bianca, I do not want to hit you.

Bianca: Will you allow me to hit you?

Elizant: I-I mean, I...I’m certain I’LL be fine.

Bianca: Then it is only fair for you to hit me back: sparring does not go just one way.

Elizant: Ehhhhhh...should I teach you how to throw a punch?

Bianca: I feel that I have a decent idea, but thank you.

Elizant: Ummm…

Bianca: I will go now!

Bianca runs up to Elizant and unleashes a flurry (if you can call it that, it was rather slow) of punches onto her. After fifteen or so blows Bianca is tired and needs to catch her breath.

Bianca: *Huff*...*Puff*...How was that? Are you hurt?...Oh Gods, I am so sorry if I hurt you too hard.

Elizant was perfectly fine, Bianca’s punches being about as effective as a young ant...one that had no combat training.

Elizant: Err, I am...alright, Bianca. No need for concern.

Bianca: Phew, I am so relieved...alright, now attack me!

Elizant: B-B-Bianca, are you certain? Ants can carry ten times their own weight, I-I-

Bianca: Well, you needn’t give me a full-force uppercut, just a punch with about half-power!

Elizant:...Um, how about a quarter? Or a tenth, to level the playing field more>

Bianca: However you feel is necessary, just don’t hold back too much: after all, this will help me with my durability!

Elizant: I pray it does…

Elizant really does not want to harm Bianca, but she would also rather not disappoint her, so she knows she should use at least some force...With relent, and a little regret, Elizant winds back her fist before sending it, with about .9/10 of the force she would otherwise use in battle, straight into Bianca’s belly. Bianca immediately fell to the floor clutching herself, all breath knocked out of her.

Elizant:...OH GODS, BIANCA, I AM SO SORRY, PLEASE FORGIVE-

Bianca: R-really Elizant, I am fine. You don’t need to apologize.

Elizant: A-are you certain!? Entirely!?

Bianca was clearly in a lot of pain, and her normally sweet, soothing voice was now weak and raspy. Despite that, she still had a smile on her face.

Bianca: Yes, Elizant, I am…

Elizant kneeled down to lift up her friend, and gently walked her over to her throne.

Elizant: Look, Bianca, training is only part of getting stronger. You also need to focus...on...your diet!

Bianca: Mm, I understand that...far too much honey for me, I suppose, (weak giggle followed by a cough). I assume your diet is purely the most healthy of foods, yes?

Elizant:...Y-yes…

Elizant failed to mention the Plumpling Pie she partakes in every morning and night.

Elizant: Let’s start by setting up a list of good foods to eat, making sure your meals are nutritious and that you eat a reasonable amount of them.

Bianca: And soon we can train some more?

Elizant:...Yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyes…

Bianca: Ohhhh, thank you, Elizant…

The two friends hugged again. Though Bianca was hurting, she looked forward to the future very much. Elizant, on the other hand, was very much worried for Bianca’s health (and worried as to what her guards would think that she sent their queen/mother to the floor with one punch), but at least Bianca was enthusiastic...

#bug fables #queen bianca #queen elizant II #blurb #writing

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sabraeal · 3 years

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Root & Vine

The third fic but the fourth most popular pairing in my Holiday Rare Pair poll; I wanted to give myself more time to work on the Zen/Kihal fic (which now has gotten moved to January, so I don’t skimp on the quality). When it came time to pick out a concept for this pairing, this canon-compliant prequel fic won in a landslide! The events in this are meant to parallel some that happen in @bubblesthemonsterartist’s Dead Men Tell No Tales: Long Live the King, only from the view in Lilias

“Mother?”

The second prince hovers just outside the threshold, book tucked against his stomach like a shield. He’s ten-- only a month ago he’d been trotted out in front of all the peers before being tucked straight back into his nursery so the lords could get on with their drinking and dancing and plotting-- but he looks two years younger. The runt of the royal litter, baby fat still clinging to his jaws and cheeks the way he still clings to Her Majesty.

Her Majesty, who hasn’t stopped looking south since they arrived.

“Mother?” he tries again, voice lifting, like a pup trying to get attention from his dam.

The queen doesn’t stir, doesn’t even give a sign that she’s heard. Just keeps standing with her back to him, hands clutched to her chest. He might call it praying, if her eyes strayed anywhere but at the horizon.

Zakura clears his throat, pointed. “Your Majesty?”

Now that gets her. She startles, the long hem of her nightgown whirling around slippered heels. Her gowns run large nowadays; the shoulder slips before she can catch it, baring a flash of flesh carved from ivory, a delicate rounding over the bone--

And yellow mottled with a faded brown. There’s so much vulnerable skin to take in, but that’s what his eyes fix on. Days ago, it’d been purple. Misjudged an entry, she laughed, the carriage rattling beneath them. That was how she always was, his queen: beauty and grace and never finding the door on the first go.

“Zen.” The tension sags from her shoulders. “I didn’t--” her lips close over her words-- “do you need something, darling?”

“My stories.” His cheeks flush all the way back to his ears. “I mean...would you read to me? I’m going to bed.”

Slim fingers tangle in the lace at her neckline. “Oh, do you need...?”

“No!” The kid looks ready to melt into the stones themselves. “I can read them myself. It’s only...Izana sometimes would.”

“I...” Her breath rattles in her chest. “I suppose...”

“Let me,” Zakura says, jumping to his feet. The prince stares at him with rounded eyes, and oh, His Majesty’s get he might be, but there’s more than a little of his mother in that blue. “Been a long while since I’ve read a good yarn.”

“Oh, they’re just-- just children’s stories.” His boots shuffle bashfully in the hall. “Tales of knights and such. Nothing, er, interesting.”

“Come now, Highness.” He gives the kid a grin, the sort he’d give any of the other men in the guard, the kind that says you’re one of us. “Who loves tales about knights more than a knight himself? And I’ve heard you’ve got an eye for the best.”

“Well.” That small chest puffs up behind his book. “I have read quite a lot of them.”

Zakura hooks his hands on his hips. “There you go then.”

His Highness hesitates. “All right,” he says after a long moment, “As long as you don’t mind.”

“‘Course not.” He hazards a glance over his shoulder, and she’s right here, his queen, her grateful gaze ready to greet him. His place is ever at her side, but for now--

Well, her son is a part of her too. “It would be my pleasure, Highness.”

“I hath invited you into my home, dear sir, and you throw these sordid accusations at me?” the foul lord cried as he set down his cup. “Do you not expect me to seek satisfaction from you?”

“Nay, my lord,” proclaimed the valiant Sir Akihiko. “I thought you too cowardly to meet my blade, though I relish in the honor--”

Zakura scowls down at the page. “Are they going to duel?”

The second prince stares up at him with those wide, guileless eyes, the very mirror of Her Majesty’s, and says, “Of course they are.”

“But why?”

“The Lord of Montivale is a villain,” the kid explains with beleaguered patience. “And good must triumph over evil.”

“I’m not saying he can’t kill him.” There’s an illumination that half the page, all fancy maile borders and knights with sabatons that look like socks, every one of them holding a chalice. “But look, he’s right there, drinking with him. Why not slip some poison into his cup and suggest a toast?”

The prince sputters. “He can’t do that?”

“Why not? It’d be cleaner.”

“A villain must be slain through righteous combat,” he shrills, “not through-- though--”

“Being smart?”

Chubby childhood cheeks puff out in distress. “Trickery.”

“There’s no reason for it.” It’d be rude to laugh in the face of a kid who could, with a few convenient accidents, become king, so Zakura restrains himself to a muffled chuckle. “Learn this now, little prince: a man should always fight smarter, not harder. The best way to win a fight is to never pick up a sword to begin with.”

Flannel sleeves cross over the bedclothes, his chubby face twisted away in temper. “That’s not what my father says.”

A king has men to die for him, he doesn’t say. Not like a prince would get the distinction. “If Sir Akihiko had any brain beneath that helm, he’d have dropped some arsenic into Duke Montivale’s glass and ended this whole thing before it started.”

“No!”

Zakura heaves a sigh, settling against the headboard. “Listen-- what would have happened if Akihiko had lost?”

The prince blinks up at him with his mother’s eyes. “He can’t lose. He’s the finest knight in the realm. No one can beat him.”

“Right, right.” Children’s tales always liked to muddle the point. “But I mean, what if something happened? What if he tripped over an uneven stone? Or misjudged one of those stairs? What happens then?”

His little mouth works, wrapping around words he can’t quite dare to say. “Then...Duke Montivale...lives?”

“And now there’s no better knight to defeat him.” He leans down, meeting that kid’s wide-open gaze. “When someone has to go, you don’t rely on chance.”

The prince chews on that for a moment. “But a knight can’t just...poison someone.”

“Why not?”

“Poison,” the prince informs him with the sort of gravitas most councilors only achieve in their twilight years, “is a woman’s weapon.”

“Hah!” Zakura grunts, smile widening into a grin. “And what if the knight’s a woman?”

The royal mouth purses into a disapproving bud. “That’s not possible.”

“Not now,” he hums, “but who knows about later...?”

The kid stares at him, impassive. “I’m tired,” he declares. Tired of you, his tone implies. “You may leave.”

“As my liege wishes.” He levers himself to his feet with a groan. The other guards had warned him-- it was a tough life walking the walls, and the knees were always the first to go.

“Blow out the lamps.” Quieter, His Highness adds, “And thank you, sir.”

Zakura smiles into the dark. “Anytime, Highness.”

Her Majesty is still awake, right where he left her half an hour before, gaze fixed out toward the horizon.

“His Highness is tucked in.”

The queen of all of Clarines and Yuris jumps. Startles right out of her skin, collar pulling just so, a mottled yellow bruise blooming at the base of her neck, and, ah, he hasn’t seen that one before. It’s oblong, decently sized-- he could probably fit it under the pad of his thumb--

“Ah.” The sound pulls her lips roughly into the shape of a smile. “Good.”

He ranges into the room with a saunter, pausing to perch on the settee’s arm. “I don’t think I impressed him with my skills.”

She blinks. “Oh, ah-- your storytelling, you mean. He does like them to be told as they are. No embellishments.” Her mouth bends into a rueful curve. “He’s comforted by their regularity. By his ability to anticipate the events.”

“Eh.” He twitches his shoulders in a shrug. “One day he’ll learn life is all about the embellishments.”

“Ah, perhaps. But I think...” Her Majesty’s gaze drops to her hands. “Some of us prefer the steadiness.”

There’s a strangeness to the silence in these rooms. Her Majesty has never been one to fill the air with empty noise-- he likes that about her-- but when it’s just the two of them she always has an occupation. Stitching, sketching, writing letters to place he’s never seen; her hands are never idle, and her chatter always pleasant. Not enough to seem like an imposition, but enough so that he doesn’t feel like the furniture. Comfortable, that’s what it’s like with his queen.

But not tonight.

“Missing home?” he asks, when he can’t stand the quiet.

Her eyes dart to his, blinking wide. “Ah..?”

He nods toward the window. “You haven’t stopped looking since we got here. South.”

“Oh...no.” Her lips rub together. “Wistal had never been my home. I mean, not until the children.”

Her children, with only one who came with her. With one who chose to stay behind. It only makes sense; an heir should favor his sire.

Doesn’t mean he needs to think better of that little prick. Zakura likes to save is charity for people who can’t afford it. “Not to worry, Your Grace. I’m sure His Majesty has everything well in hand.”

He could swear he hears her murmur, that’s what I’m afraid of.

But it can’t be, not when barely a breath later she says, “I don’t miss it. To answer your question, sir.” Her fingers clench in her nightgown. “It’s...important that I’m here.”

Now that’s a strange way to look at a holiday. “I guess it’s always good to take a rest.”

“Ah...” It’s half a laugh, half a sigh. “Yes. A rest. A respite.”

Zakura clears his throat as he watches the candles melt into wax caves. “May I ask what you’re thinking about, Majesty?”

Her breath rattles in the silence. “Gardening.”

“I think I’ll be up a long while yet.”

Zakura sways on his feet, blinking up at her with bleary eyes. Ah, a rookie move, nearly falling asleep on the job.

Her Majesty only smiles at him, kind. “You should get to sleep, sir. A young man needs his rest.”

“No, no.” he shakes his head. “I’m supposed to watch over you, Majesty. Can’t do that if I’m laying down.”

Her mouth bends into the barest frown. “I’ll be up a long time...”

He pushes himself off the wall, and comes to sit by her, the chill from the glass seeping into his clothes. “Then I’ll stay up with you. As long as you like.”

She stares at him a long moment, her eyes as dark as the night itself, and nods. “Thank you, sir.”

He offers her the softest smile a rough mouth like his can make. “I’m your man, Majesty. I always will be.”

Her hand lands on his, soft and cold and pale. “You will never know how much that means to me.”

“Could I ask you something, sir?”

Zakura blinks, dragging his gaze back to the woman beside him, the one who has not moved her hand this last half hour. He doesn’t think he imagined her palm warming over his. “Anything, Majesty.”

His queen hesitates, licking her lips before she asks, “Have you ever heard of hogstrife?”

“Hogstrife?” His mind strains to piece together the vaguest picture. “That’s a plant, isn’t it? Called it widow’s weed where I’m from, I think.”

“Yes.” Her voice is clipped, crisper than he’s heard outside of a scolding. “The pharmacists use it. Not for medicinal purposes, but because it releases a scent that keeps pests from eating the plants.” Her mouth takes a wry bent. “The bugs avoid her like people do a widow.”

“Ah.” He clears his throat. “Yeah, then I’ve heard of it before.”

“They consider it essential to growing their gardens.” Her long fingers pick out an anxious rhythm on the arm of her chair; the hand in his is still. “To grow such large plots and harvest what they need for the palace...it would be impossible, if the pests could not be kept at bay.”

Zakura can only nod. Apparently, Her Majesty had not lied about having gardening on her mind.

“But hogstrife can’t grow unchecked,” she continues, gaze still riveted south. “It’s roots are thick and its leaves are broad, and if it is not regularly pruned what once protected against predation chokes the life out of the garden instead.”

“I...see.”

“And what does one do when such a thing occurs? When what one protected ruins instead?” Her voice creaks under the strain of her words. “Should it be left to destroy as its due?”

“No.” He’s never been much for plants, but he’s hacked down some overgrowth in his time. “They take them out, don’t they?”

He knows they do; the men talk about it sometimes-- stalks like tree trunks and noodle-armed herbalists with saws. They laugh at it over their cups.

“They do,” she says darkly. “Right at the root.”

Doesn’t seem so funny now.

He clears his throat, uncomfortable for no reason he can name. “I didn’t realize you knew so much about gardening, Majesty.”

“Oh...” Her mouth twists into a bitter smile. “It’s a recent interest.”

“Sir Zakura.” The hour is far too late for talk. Or rather, too early. “May I ask whose crest you wear?”

He stares down at his sleeve, the jeweled star of Clarines bright upon his sleeve. Some of the men said it was a flower-- for the Wisterias, of course-- but he’d never seen it, not really. “The crown’s.”

“Is that who you serve?” The words are very nearly slurred; Her Majesty cannot be far from sleep now, no matter how hard she tries. “The crown?”

“No.” The word comes out barely above a murmur. “I serve you, Your Majesty.”

There’s fatigue in every line of her beautiful face, but her eyes are sharp, focused on him. “Can I trust you?”

His hand presses to his chest, and oh, he’s too tired to keep himself from saying, “I’m yours. Always.”

She leans, so close that her breath ghosts over his skin. “Will you protect my family, no matter what storm may come?”

He blinks. “His Majesty charged me to--”

“No.” Fear burns bright in her eyes now. “If only my word compelled you, would you protect them?”

His hand tightens around her. “Until my dying breath.”

The moment is taut between them, her eyes searching his, and oh, he would give her anything if it would help her believe him, if it would prove his devotion to her, but--

“All right.” She leans back, breath rushing from her in a sigh. Her whole body slumps. “All right. I think...it would be best if I rest my head. I’ve kept you up...far too late.”

“Don’t think of it, my lady.” He smiles, though the humor no longer fits on his face. “Just doing my job.”

She hums, absent. “And let us hope you keep on doing it.”

He lingers, for a while.

With Her Majesty tucked in tight like a babe, his duty is lifted, his own head free to rest, but still, still--

Something keeps him pacing by the window. Only for a few minutes, no more than a quarter of an hour, but it’s enough. He’s here when the knock comes.

A nervous man stands outside the queen’s door, small and inconsequential, wringing his hands. A steward of Arleon’s, perhaps; he hasn’t bothered to keep track of all the clerks and maids and comings and goings.

“I presume,” he begins, drawing up to his full height, “that this is important.”

“My lord,” the man pipes, not quite meeting his eyes. “I must-- the queen--”

“Come on, man!” His grip on the door tightens with the knot in his gut. “Out with it.”

“It’s the king!” The man’s breath heaves, as if he’s run here. “The king is dead!”

“Dead?” A strange sense of cold certainty fills him. “How?”

“F-foul play.” He prays, in the breath the man takes, that it was a coup, a sword between the ribs, anything but-- “P-poison.”

If he could give his queen this one last, restful sleep, he would, but the death of kings does not keep. If anything it rots like the corpses themselves, growing ranker with each passing hour.

He steps into her room again, only moments from when he left it, watching the slow rise and fall of her back. The sun has begun to creep over the horizon, sending pale shafts across the bed, showing where the collar of her gown has ridden down in sleep, baring--

A bruise. A large, patchwork round at the nape of her neck, and the edges of another two, smaller, on each shoulder. A handprint.

“My lady,” he chokes, bending down. What are we to do, when what protects ruins instead?

She hums blearily, opening one eye. “Sir...?”

Who is it you serve? “It’s your husband,” he manages. “The king is dead.”

“Dead?” Still delirious from sleep, she smiles. Poison is a woman’s weapon. “Good.”

She turns over, burying herself more deeply into the pillows, and sleeps, deeper than he has ever seen her before.

Can I trust you, sir?

“Always, Majesty,” he murmurs, kneeling at her bedside, finger tangling with hers. “You will always have me.”

#zakura/haruto #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #my fic #ans #mad king kain #allusions to domestic violence #when this fic got chosen i was like #guys i really don't think y'all know where this fic is gonna go #guys i think you might regret this #this will not be a nice fic #WELL I HOPE YOU ARE ALL HAPPY >:3c

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athenril-of-kirkwall · 3 years

Text

One more for the Casswall road!

Blackwall/Cassandra, “Dressed to the Teeth, or Otherwise” (AO3) [Mature]

A Villa by the Winter Palace

“For the final time, I won’t be need any moisturising or scented oils!”, Cassandra bellowed, storming out of the bathroom as the complaints of several elven servants were silenced by the door swinging shut behind her, narrowing the shaft of light from the garderobe into a thin strip, then nothingness.

Blackwall, who stood between her and the rest of the wing of the palace, coughed politely, asking, “Is this an inopportune moment, Cassandra?”

Clutching the towel which was the sole preserver of her modesty to her chest, she turned to him, having just realised Blackwall’s presence. He’d put on the heavily starched trousers they were expected to turn up in for the Winter Ball in a matter of hours, and nothing else.

“What do you think, Blackwall?”, she hissed, actively avoiding sizing up his bare, broad, chest to look him in the eye, only to see his gaze darting around the hallway.

“Well, I…”

“Oh, for the Maker’s sake, Blackwall,” she said, “Don’t pretend as though this is your first time seeing a woman dressed so. It certainly isn’t mine seeing a man shirtless.”

“Right,” he said, his gaze moving to her face. “I was just, ah, surprised.”

“Undoubtedly. What were you doing out in the corridor, at any rate?”, she asked inquisitively.

“To be perfectly frank,” he answered, “It was your protests coming from the bathroom which got my alert. I was half concerned that the Venatori assassin had already struck.”

“How very droll. Wait, is that why you’ve got a poker in your hand?”, Cassandra asked, looking down at his weapon arm.

Scratching the back of his head with his other hand, Blackwall said as he followed her gaze, “That would indeed be the case. Well, seeing as it happens to be a grievance of a much less deadly nature, I’ll let you go your w—”

Cassandra interrupted him, saying, “Wait. Just stay here awhile. Maybe that’ll be enough to deter them from following me with all their damned bathing lotions and perfumed oils…”

She trailed off, having lingered by the doorway enough to notice the scent hanging in the air around her companion.

Finally, she asked him, “You let them put one of those balms on you?”

“…it smelled pleasant,” he defended himself.

“I certainly hope you’re not letting our Lady Ambassador get to you with the pressing need to play the Orlesians’ frivolous games, Blackwall,” she said. “I’d assumed that you had as little time for this pageantry as I did.”

“You’re not wrong there. Still, it’s nice enough to get a decent bath when I can get the opportunity. They’re far and few between on the road as Warden, and I’ve certainly never had one in a palace, mind.”

Turning it over in her head, Cassandra conceded, “I suppose you’re right. Still, I must admit that this is something of a new side from the man who sleeps in a barn.”

“I confess that your protestations are equally surprising, Cassandra,” he said, asking, “Surely growing up so close to the royal court at Nevarra meant that all this sort of thing would be second nature to you, or at least familiar.”

Sighing, she said, “You’re not wrong. Maybe that is why I despise it so—I haven’t had to return to this sort of preening and dressage for years, not even as the Divine’s Right Hand. I had forgotten that this would be a luxury and not a nuisance for many of us. Perhaps I should return to their ministrations lest your perfume overpower my soap’s scent.”

Blackwall laughed warmly. “And perhaps you should let them restyle your hair whilst you’re there, as refreshing as it is to see it down at last. I always did wonder what it’d look like minus that braid.”

“Always?”, Cassandra asked, tilting her head.

“Curiosity, nothing more,” he said carelessly, rapidly changing the subject. “I do hope our Inquisitor is comfortable, though, never having had the privilege or the freedom to get bathed by others quite like this.”

“And by elven maidservants, no less,” Cassandra mused. “It is easy to forget that this palace lies upon the last of their great cities at times, for us anyway. I doubt it’s ever left her mind ever since we received the Grand Duke’s invitation. On the other hand, Solas has seemed more imperious than ever since getting here.”

“Hm. Perhaps he tapped into the dreams of some long-forgotten king, adored by thousands of his subjects and hated by the backstabbers of his court, to get into character,” Blackwall theorised. “That, or he expects the world to bend to him regardless of where he goes.”

Cassandra let a smile cross a face. “Who knows? Perhaps both are true. Very well, I shall return to that blasted garderobe to let them do what they will. Maybe we’ll present a nice enough picture for Josephine to relax a little.”

“We could be the picture of the next Age’s styles and she’d still be fretting,” Blackwall chuckled. “Still, stay any longer out here and you may well catch a chill, and ruin the beautifully embroidered handkerchiefs she’d made for us by sneezing all over them.”

“It’s almost charming when you worry about me,” Cassandra said, “Go on, then, and put the rest of your uniform, Blackwall. I’ll see you in the main hall along with Rivka and Solas.”

With that, she was gone, leaving Blackwall to gaze after her as she turned back round to finish her bath, absentmindedly noting her bare back and its muscled form, marked but far from marred by the small scatter of scars upon it, before he retreated to his quarters.

Heading back towards the door she’d almost slammed into an elven servant, Cassandra, too, idly wondered what her companion would look like in the fresh, if gaudy, uniform that had been picked out for the ball. Certainly, he’d be filling it out rather nicely, if nothing else.

@dadrunkwriting

#blackwall #Cassandra Pentaghast #blackwall/cassandra #aether effect #rivka lavellan #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #winter palace #wicked eyes and wicked hearts #casswall #ao3 #prompt fic #fanfic #athenril-of-kirkwall #dadrunkwriting #da drunk writing circle

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alchemist-shizun · 4 years

Text

Darkness falls in time

Read on Ao3!

Word Count: 2,699

Characters: Deceit, Remus (minorly) and a new boy. (Ophis is Deceit’s pet snake gifted by the other sides)

Pairing(s): Either none or open to interpretation

Warning(s): Major character death, suicide, self-harm implication, one mention of knife, relapse, sort of panic attack, poisoning, blood mentions, pet death.

Summary: Deceit was failing and he wasn’t able to admit it to himself. What the others weren’t aware of was that it wasn’t entirely his fault.

A/N: OH BOY Y'ALL this idea came from this post my dear friend Lance made, and I thought why not make a sequel to “As soon as the curtain is raised”? You don’t really have to read the other one to understand this one, just know that Deceit went too far with trying to be accepted and all the rest of the sides ultimately noticed and helped him. Please be mindful of the heavy topics of this fic and stay safe. Hope you enjoy! Is this my take on the orange side who knows maybe not oops

✾

❝ Close your eyes, scoop the wind, dissolve yourself, ring the bells.

No matter how many times the thunder hits, I will go beyond the darkness while singing. ❞

Relapsing.

Worsening. Deteriorating. Degenerating. Sickening. Weakening.

Failing.

Deceit was failing and he wasn’t able to admit it to himself, let alone the others.

Erosion, a natural, gradual and undetectable disaster now applied to all the improvement he had reached in such a long time.

Useless steps forward against an enormous jump meters back, as if startled by his own progress.

His fingers trailed over his left cheek, barely brushing the uneven path his scales left; normally when he did that, Ophis would appear between his hands in all his grace, reminding him how blindingly charming snake skin looked with his bright yellow pigment.

Were he able to move in that particular moment, he would’ve checked on him.

Instead, his eyes seemed to widen from the perpetual frowning gaze and fixate on the rug.

Just like one of those alluring energies that pulled you towards an unknown destination, Deceit was unconsciously being dragged back into the dark pit of his own tragic fall.

Urgings of all kinds piled up on top of each other, resulting in nothing but chaos as he moved his eyes regretfully to his hands.

Held up at chest level, he could barely make out the outline of those trembling sunny gloves that he would have been able to rip apart into shreds at any given moment.

It wasn’t himself. It was that again. Testing and trying him so that could seek delight in his decadence.

Deceit parted his lips and focused all of his strength in his throat, forcing out any sound that could have made sense.

Which didn’t happen immediately.

Instead, a choking sensation pervaded his body and he forgot how to breathe altogether.

Not even gasping for air, he waited until he was so devoid of oxygen that he sucked in a short breath in a tick.

« Rem, » he knew Remus was on the other end of the couch, busying himself with whichever object he had previously created.

« Dee? » the duke had been eyeing him from that exact spot for a good minute by then, preparing for an eventual need of assistance.

That was the case, indeed.

Remus studied his friend’s complexion: his focus completely on himself, the realization that he was not going to steady himself without help. Deceit kept staring at his hands, the unstoppable visible shaking setting dread in his insides, all while hunched over himself.

He watched him meet his eyes with a careful movement of his head.

« Stop me. »

That was the cue.

Stop me, or I won’t be able alone. Stop me, or I will rip off the skin from my face again. Stop me, or I will scream until my voice is soar and I will hate myself.

Stop me.

Or I will regret it.

Dark Creativity moved, impossibly cautious as he laced his fingers around Deceit’s wrists in a loose lock.

Frantic heartbeats coming from the trembling side were all that separated them.

Remus drew ghost lines on the other’s arm, so to give him some sense of grounding reality; he pulled both to each other’s feet, beginning their journey towards their usual destination during severe episodes of relapse: the Imagination.

Roman and Remus had found their hangout place to be an effective solution, as futile as it could sound.

Despite it being the literal embodiment of unreality, it helped Deceit visualize his damaging memories and destroy them altogether.

Once they left the room, a young petite snake shifted ever so slightly in his aquarium: Ophis was used to being a comfort pet for the troubled side, but was always kept aside when the most urgent relapsing struck.

It was crystal clear already that Deceit hadn’t been doing well.

Ophis was there so he reminded himself of a daily routine, so he would feed him and check on him constantly and set himself back on track with his tasks.

Yet, in the last few weeks the days in which Deceit would forget to give the tiny pet his food would increase, he would carry through the hours without allowing himself a break to pet him for a while, sinking deeper in his melancholy state instead.

If only Roman had also given Ophis the ability to notify them when things were going downhill.

Even if he had been able to, he wouldn’t have probably had enough strength to do it: it wasn’t like none other than Deceit cared about him, but lately events had been so shaky and everyone was rushing to get Deceit to calm down, ending up with innocently failing to remember Ophis would get ill.

And getting ill he did.

The worst case scenario: he represented the deterioration his owner’s mind was being subjugated to.

Which meant ultimately that was only little time left before the inevitable.

Because of that, that destroyer of psyche.

In another side of the Mindscape, Remus was still leading his friend toward a worn-looking door he crossed everyday; he’d recall memories here and there, making sure Deceit was focused on the present reality.

« Go on, then, » once inside the Imagination, they stopped in the middle of nothingness. « Relinquish it all. »

Deceit hadn’t found it difficult the first time he tried to bend the landscape to his will, it seemed his willpower to recall disastrous events outweighed Remus’s own creative flow.

He had his eyes closed out of habit, preparing himself to the blight he’d caused.

« Uh … why is it all dark? » the duke called at his side, looking around himself for any of his usual ferocious creatures.

A reminded that was still there.

« Please no, leave me alone. » Deceit muttered under his breath, looking towards the sky in defeat.

« What are- Do you want me to leave? »

He looked at his friend, who had misunderstood who his interlocutor was.

And nodded.

Facing that alone it was, then.

Remus raised an eyebrow, unconvinced and hesitant as he headed for the door.

« Just shout something lewd when you need me. »

Deceit let himself chuckle. « As per usual, will do. »

Then Remus left.

Then he started running.

Ophis watched as the duke made his entrance with no trophy: doom hovered upon them as the snake remembered that everytime Deceit was left alone in the Imagination, his condition would unfathomably worsen.

« He said I had to leave. » he mused whilst pacing towards the pet. « It’s not like I don’t trust him, but this whole ordeal is kinda suspicious. »

Ophis watched with half-lidded eyes as Dark Creativity brushed part of his skin.

« But what do you know? » he shrugged. « I don’t think there’s anything dangerous in the complete nothingness anyway. »

The snake was barely able to keep staring at the bright green and pitch black of his clothing.

« This little guy seems sleepy, huh? » Remus took a step back from the aquarium.

« I’ll leave you be, too. »

Deceit had started running.

In the deepness of the obscurity left by his mind’s amalgamation of perceiving and memories, now become the reality around him, he slowed only once a moonlit spot sparkled between what appeared to be leafless trees blackened by trauma.

He halted to look around himself multiple times.

« What do you want?! » the desperate called out at the sky, hands curled into fists as his arms were slightly raised. « Just tell me what you want and leave me alone, please! »

Low chuckling came thundering like an ancient deity upon preying a hopeless faithful mortal.

Deceit shook his head, holding it between his hands only to glance back at the dark clouds descending before him.

An anthropomorphic figure he recognized all too well distinguished itself from its smokey frame, two arms crossed over a chest, a finger tapping eagerly.

An open-mouthed mischievous grin embellished the ever-changing shape of that face.

Two eyes opened and a pair of orange, almost golden irises pierced through Deceit, as bright as the incandescent steel of a soon-to-be weapon.

His feet touched the ground, sizzling the grass until it disintegrated in grey ashen particles, becoming one with the trail of obsidian mist left behind every single inch of his outline.

He looked like he was about to fade away at any given moment.

Deceit had already been wearing a worn expression by the time he approached, leaving the air heavy around them, as if a bubble of destruction had just encaged them.

The figure widened its smile.

« Get out. » the side muttered, finding breathing an overbearing task all of a sudden. « Why are you finding this so funny? Just- get over yourself! »

He stepped forward until only a few inches separated them, chuckling again as fingers acuminated like a knife cupped Deceit’s face, cutting his cheeks with evanescent fog.

« Oh, angel, you know I can’t simply do that, »

« Don’t call me that. » the side lowered his eyebrows, squinting.

« There’s no fun in waiting around … Why not just strike at once every now and then? » a fabricated pitiful gaze met disgust. « You know how I am, after all. Who I am. »

« I’m tired of playing your idiotic games, » Deceit leaned in with venom on his tongue as he sputtered out his name. « Decay. »

Decay made a sound in the back of his throat. « And yet you seem to still fall for them. How peculiar. » he let his arms fall to his side, eyes lingering on the other’s face as the black vapour left his cheeks gradually. « Why? » taking a step backward, his voice grew louder. « Can you not resist me, angel? » a lopsided smile framed his last word.

« You know exactly the reason why. You’re doing dirty work you’re not supposed to out of spite. » Deceit referenced in his mind the countless times his conditions had kept decreasing to a point of no return, especially when he had started picking at his scales, months prior.

And Decay knew that.

Because he had been the cause of it all along.

« You know, sometimes I don’t understand. » as he paced around the side, anything he touched dissolved into the void of non-existence. « You’ve been rejected, and I was, too. »

That had happened a long time earlier.

Decay had strived for so long to become a side, but never succeeded as his sole purpose served as a mean of deterioration of Thomas’s mind. His actions had been purely destructive and they had to keep him at bay to protect the entirety of the Mindscape and Thomas’s brain itself.

His was one of those overwhelming powers not even he could control, or rather, he didn’t want to control them; destruction was something that needed to be slow and progressive, while Decay was not one for patience at all.

They made him let off steam by keeping him in the Imagination and having the two Creativities deal with him, letting him damage catastrophically anything they built.

Remus was the best at keeping up with him, but there were times in which both he and Roman came back from their encounter absolutely devastated, pushed over their limit.

It was then that Thomas was the most stressed out, so they all teamed up to make sure they would get some rest and a break.

But Decay would eventually come back, eager to unleash his energy even stronger than before, getting worse by the days.

None of them would have been able to stand a chance against him in the long run.

And now, tired of the monotone fights with Roman and Remus, he decided to strike his blow on Deceit, making only him pay for the grudges he held against all of the sides.

« So I wonder … » he stopped to rest an arm on Deceit’s shoulder, who believed for a moment it would fall right through him.

He felt his clothes almost burning, Decay’s eyes stabbing the side of his face, pleading to be taken into consideration.

« Why are you still in my way? »

Deceit bit the inside of his cheek, fighting the self-destructive urges such closeness with the other caused; were he to move, he would have fallen to his knees.

« Our circumstances differ for one detail: the only reason why I’ve been “rejected”, as you put it, is because of a misunderstanding between me and Thomas, which I will resolve in due time. »

« Yeah, that’s it. » Decay’s fingers dug in his skin. « Is that the line you learnt by heart to appease yourself? » it felt like Deceit’s own venom had started circulating in his thoughts instead of his blood. « Is that what you tell yourself everytime a hint of doubt crosses your mind? » the pitiful tone came back.

Decay chuckled and placed a hand on Deceit’s left cheek. « Oh, angel, » he carefully moved his head so the other looked at him. « It doesn’t work like that against me. »

All Deceit wanted was to push him away, yet he hurt all over, so all he could fathom to do was comply to that tedious monologue and refrain from punching that delicate face that was way too impending on himself.

« You of all people should know that lying isn’t necessary in this situation. So why do you keep trying? »

« Can we skip this futile blabber and get to the point already? »

« How long has it been since you started trying to convince yourself you might make it? »

Deceit shuddered. « Shut up. »

« They accepted Remus before they even considered you. »

« Shut up. » he curled his hands into fists at his sides. « I’m not falling for your trap again. »

« Oh, are you sure about that, angel? » Decay stepped aside to stare him down: he was met with a trembling body, as shaky as a winter’s leaf, eyes about to spill some tears and mind on the verge of a serious breakdown.

Decay was surprised he had endured his presence that long.

Two different coloured irises bored into intensely orange ones, between fear, determination and the will to wreak havoc.

« Yes, » Deceit turned, finally faced him, and focused his strength on lifting one of his arms to grip at Decay’s shoulder. He remembered they were in the Imagination, which permitted him to bend it to his own will, too.

« Want to know why? »

At once, Decay’s misty presence became a perfectly distinguishable body and, as he was too busy being astonished and looking at his solid self, Deceit opened the button on one of his gloves and brought his wrist to his teeth the moment Decay’s glance fell back on the side’s face.

Ophis felt it.

He knew when Deceit dipped his teeth in his veins and let the venom pour and infect his blood, he knew when Deceit squeezed his eyes shut like it was all an ineffable nightmare.

He knew when they were both about to die.

So Ophis let himself rest in his lonely aquarium, while Remus was sharing his doubts with Roman in the other living room, unknowing.

« Because, »

Decay’s disbelief didn’t falter as Deceit reached him, his feet slithering on the disintegrated grass.

The side portrayed a tight lipped sad smile, but with a hint of triumph.

« I’m taking you down with me. »

Deceit pulled Decay’s arm to his mouth, stabbing his skin open with his canines and crushing Decay’s own degeneration with the most catastrophic poison.

Black and purple painted their veins: wide eyes accused the snake-faced side, the same eyes that stared down at their owner’s newly acquainted body fading away into the wind the same way he had dissolved the grass around him before.

And when those same two eyes disappeared the way they came to be, for the last time, Deceit allowed himself to rest.

He fell to the ground and slipped into eternal slumber.

#purp's writings #deceit sanders #remus sanders #ts deceit #ts remus #imma give a name to the new character #ts decay #ts ophis #there the snake too #sanders sides #fanfiction #ts fanfic #angst #read the warnings #tw major character death #tw suicide #tw blood #pet death

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cloakedandsoaked · 3 years

Text

Wants and Needs

[This is straight-up porn. Don’t read it if you don’t want to read porn. Contains lots of blood, a wee bit of self-harm, consensual non-consent, and probably other things I haven’t thought to warn for.]

As Dantalion threw his head back, lines of fire cutting down each side of him, his last remaining thought flickered in wonder at how he had managed to find himself here. For ‘here’ he most certainly was, covered in sweat and ichor, with a demon he'd just met leaning over him in an unfamiliar bed, to which he was tightly bound. And then the thought was gone, banished with all the others to wherever thoughts disappear to in the throes of ecstasy.

If it had stuck around, it might have elucidated for us the circumstances that had led Dantalion to this peculiar state of affairs. Indeed, it might have told first of the deep itch that had taken hold in his bones some time over the past few days, an itch to which he was all too accustomed. It came in times of stress, in times of boredom, and, sometimes, at least as far as the duke himself could tell, for no particular reason at all.

In the past, he would have ignored such an itch. Or, failing that, he might have tried to scratch it himself, though that usually didn't take very well or for very long -- and it seemed to upset Sahar, which he had no real inclination to do.

But now….

Well, he had been trying to allow himself as much of what he wanted as possible. In the aftermath of his emotional experiments, giving in to desire seemed to help quiet the hollowness, at least for a time.

And what he desired was for someone to hurt him. Properly.

Not enough, of course, to render him unfit for duty; he was needy, not insane. He just wanted someone to, y'know. Rough him up a bit. Take the edge off that grasping, cloying thirst beneath his skin that cried out for some kind of stimulation.

One of the downsides to using his physical form as a sensory muffler was that he sometimes felt too muffled, almost claustrophobic under the smothering blanket burrito of his flesh. And since he wasn't going to leave that flesh unless absolutely necessary, sometimes -- just sometimes -- he needed something to reach between the bars of his self-made prison and touch him for real.

Or, at least, as close to 'real' as it was going to get.

He'd had Sahar set up the appointment for him, even allowing her to select the practitioner. Someone discreet, secure. (Obscenely well-paid, as should be obvious.) Thankfully, she had a shortlist ready and waiting, as it had been for years. It was an old argument of theirs, and, until now, she had never convinced him to book.

With only half an hour 'til the appointment, Dantalion had quite nearly bunnied out, despite the fact that he would lose his deposit. However, he found his mind turning to Asmodeus, and his resolve pulled through. Asmodeus would be disappointed by the idea that he couldn't even visit a professional dominant without turning coward. He took a deep breath, centered himself, and flipped the switch on his nervousness.

That's right, this is supposed to be good, isn't it? The hollowness was back, and with it, the itch, and with the itch, an unsettling but not unfamiliar sort of desire. Yes, this is how it's supposed to be. No more nights spent trying to clench himself together, or worse, trying to find fulfillment in his own claws, but unable to escape his bullet train of a mind even as he bled a pool onto the floor. Straightening his back, he had left his office with a new confidence.

And that confidence held, even through the consultation. Of course, he and Master Rodger (Really? Tal had thought, ‘Rodger’ of all things?) had communicated by email the day before, so both of them knew at least some of what to expect.

Well, Tal didn't expect Master Rodger to have easily a metre on him (Not even counting the horns, stars!); that part was a surprise. And not at all an unwelcome one, Tal noted vaguely in the part of his mind that wasn't focused on maintaining his social mask. Although he knew his mask was going to slip at some point in the evening, and, indeed, that was part of the point, it didn't do to be anything less than a perfect gentlebeing outside of the scene. Manners mattered.

It helped that Master Rodger (For real, that has to be a work name, Dantalion kept thinking. And of course it was.) was warm and open, exactly the sort of person to make one want to reflect those qualities back. It rang a bell of familiarity in Tal's mind; it carried an essence of similarity to the seeping heat of Asmodeus, but much less intense, and without the sense of nervousness and... almost… violation? that always came along with it.

(Then again, he hadn't seen Asmodeus except in picture form since his experiments with the switch method, and next time, the experience might be totally different. It was hard to say. He rather hoped so! That was part of the purpose of the whole affair, after all.)

They discussed the usual necessities. Safewords, limits, aftercare, any other concerns. They settled on the classic traffic light system for safewords; no surprise there. Most of Tal's limits had been outlined in their online communication, but he reinforced a few. I'm in charge of my breathing. I'm in charge of my eye contact. Master Rodger made a point of reminding him of a limit or two of his own, including 'no kisses on the mouth', one Tal actually took quite a bit of comfort in. It wouldn't have been something he'd have listed, himself, but it was certainly not something he enjoyed most of the time.

It did, admittedly, get a bit awkward when Dantalion had to show him (for it was a tricky subject) exactly how he liked and didn't like his hair and scalp to be touched. No amount of warmth and openness could save him there. He felt as if he were on display in a way far more scandalous than was typically possible for the amount of clothing he still had on. The sensation was, if he were honest with himself, a little bit exciting, though that didn't cut through the social ticklishness of the moment.

And then they were ready, and all at once, the nervousness from before sprang again like a tiger to devour him from the inside. In what way, he wasn't sure, but he must have revealed it as they made their way to the back room, for Master Rodger laid a paw in the middle of his back (which was honestly about as low as he could reach with his paw without bending; Stars, but he's tall!), and rubbed a calming circle there. "Just like we talked about, right? Is this okay?"

Tal first tensed at the contact, then relaxed into it. Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself. "First time jitters. It's fine. I'm a high-strung personality. But then again, that's why I'm here." He was babbling, and he realised it. Rather than continue, he nodded at Master Rodger, who opened the door for him.

"Five minutes, and we'll start. You can put your clothes on the chair by the door on the right." It was a solid acknowledgement of Tal's stated preference that he begin the scene already in the nude, and he appreciated it. Master Rodger gave him a once-over, and then corrected: "Make it three; I really don't want you sitting in there fretting a mess."

Tal smiled sheepishly, and went on in.

Four minutes later, he was turned over one comically long thigh, face and torso resting on the edge of the great, black bed, bum in the air.

Not all went so smoothly. Only a few minutes of spanking with some sort of implement (he couldn't see what, but he knew it wasn't a paw) had him flushed and squirming, and not with the response he had most hoped to have. This would have to be rectified. "Excuse me, sir?" he ground out, tense with the sensations and his own pride.

"Yes, kitten?" He stopped what he was doing, keen to listen to whatever it was that had made Dantalion speak up now, when he had been so seemingly reserved.

Tal sighed and shifted against the thick leg that bore him up. "I mean no offense, but this is really… doing more to turn me on than to hurt me." He pinked further in embarrassment, as if the evidence of his cock was not enough to humiliate him. Dantalion was clearly more than a little pent up.

"Already asking for more, eh? Greedy." He ran a single claw up Tal's spine, with just enough pressure to be felt. "I like it."

Tal shuddered at the implication on his skin, and his ears pricked as he heard a rustling noise. The anticipation was almost overwhelming as he waited, breathless, for the dom's next move. He wasn't expecting gentleness.

However, that's exactly what he received; a velveted paw soothed small circles on his arse, coaxing out the too-small sting that had gathered there. Dantalion made a strangled noise between a sigh and a growl, and ground his hips up into the Master's leg.

"You have permission to ask me for 'more' any time you like. Understood, kitten?"

Dantalion twisted his face into the bed until his neck was crooked and only his mouth peeked out. This is torture! Fuck, it can't have even been fifteen minutes yet. "Yes, sir," he sighed, unsure whether either of them had really understood the point of this whole endeavor.

Crack!

Tal arched off the bed, more in shock than pain, though the pain hit him a half-second later, and he welcomed it with a soft moan as he collapsed back down. The moan was cut off with another stroke, followed by three in rapid succession. "Fuck," he hissed, hands scrambling to find purchase on the tight-laid bedsheets.

"Color?"

"Green, sir!" Tal's eyes ghosted closed as another short rain of blows fell with an unrelenting sting that had him panting again in seconds. This time, it was the proper kind of panting; the last thing on his mind was his cock. He spat a few choice swears into the bed, only just managing to 'be good' and stay in place on Master Rodger's knee. Not that he wanted to get away; far from it! But much longer, he knew, and his body would cease to obey him as he gave into the sensation. Tal was a writher.

Seeming to sense this, Master Rodger put a heavy paw between Tal's shoulders, not pushing, but steadying, guiding him back into place. The contact appeared to seep some of the rising tension from Tal's frame, and Master Rodger purred a few words of praise at the quick response.

Tal whimpered lightly at the regard, and was rewarded with a new rhythm of slaps, slow but unceasing and a little heavier than before. His mind began to fog with the first strands of that most pleasant of dizzinesses, and he knew he had to act quickly if he wanted to ask: "Sir, please," he breathed.

"Mn?"

"What in the name of good glorious fuck are you hitting me with?" he asked, voice giddy and a little awestruck. He wasn't gone yet, but he was too far gone to worry about sounding as easy as he truly was, which was a mercy.

Master Rodger chuckled softly, but didn't cease in his work. "Tawse. You said it was a favorite, mn?"

The answer surprised Tal, almost enough to bring him out of his happy place and into a realm more intellectual. Instead, he burst out giggling. He'd never had a tawse used on him over the knee before; it was just impractical for people with an average arm and thigh length to use with any real efficiency. Gods, did Sahar hit the mark with this one.

"Yes, sir," he eventually remembered to reply through the laughter.

"You're making me wonder if I'm hitting you hard enough, there, kitten." The Master's voice was light, but contained a genuine query.

"More please, sir!" Tal chirruped, despite the fact that his tremulous body had already begun to imitate the vibrations of a washing machine on spin.

---------------------------------------------

And now, some fifty minutes later, Dantalion had lost his last thought to the claws of Master Rodger. His back was an utter ruin, stuck to the bedsheets with thick, black ichor. He had been flipped at some point, though he didn't have the presence of mind to remember how long ago. Everything was pain and the way his body gloried in it, trembling between the impulse to flee the aversion, and a hunger for more of the sensation lying beneath.

Every few moments, the former would win out, and, whimpering, he would recoil from the agony of claws ripping at the skin over his ribs. But then would come a hushed, encouraging word from the Master, perhaps a soft kiss to the jaw or a tug of hair, and the battle would shift once more in his favor.

This addling metre went on for some time, each pass pulling Dantalion deeper into the whistling throb of his flesh, a flesh which felt more expansive with each shuddered breath. He was crying in earnest, now, whether or not he realised it, and the ends of his hair were coated in the same blood that soaked the bed. Bloody too were his lips, which he had bitten nearly through in places, struggling to process the sensations happening in his body.

Master Rodger would rouse him to reality occasionally, just long enough to get a color from him (always a confident 'green'), but otherwise, Tal was lost.

Lost until he felt an unexpected sensation amidst the singing of his nerves.

He jerked his head up, and looked down through gummy eyelashes to see a rather intense-looking Master Rodger between his legs, one paw stroking Tal's cock. He hadn't even noticed he was hard again (or, perhaps, still), and wasn't that something? The absurdity of the situation overcame him, and he leveled a thoroughly poleaxed look at the dom, tear-reddened eyes awash with bewilderment at the change in circumstance.

Master Rodger took the reaction in his stride, pausing to soothe at Tal's lower belly, which had been left untouched by the methodical mauling of before. "You're okay, kitten. It's alright. You've done so well for me. I'm going to give you a little reward; does that sound good?"

It would be a lie to say the words didn't go directly to Tal's cock, nearly bypassing his mind altogether, as it was still quite muddled. But he managed to nod and mumble something that must have been an understandable affirmative, for Master Rodger resumed stroking him. (Lost to him for the moment was the fact that this had always been part of their plan; the pawjob wasn't meant to have been a surprise.)

The changeover in sensation was its own kind of violence, disrupting the settled flow of back-and-forth between too much and just enough that had categorised the previous stage of the scene for Dantalion. Now, there was no 'too much'; though the tacky sheets clung to the wounds of his back as if with tar, and his whole torso clamoured at him every time he tensed, none of it compared to the incandescence of a laceration in progress. And the pleasure he now felt was of a totally different stripe, tapping into a need less potent, but which he was still all too eager to have filled.

Speaking of being filled -- When Master Rodger was certain he had navigated the change, he allowed Dantalion a moment of respite while he fiddled around with something off to the side. Tal heard the tell-tale click of a lube pump (for what he now realised must be the second time, though the first had been lost in the fog), and had only a second to prepare before something chilled slicked at his entrance.

He tensed automatically, and before he could loosen again, Master Rodger was on the case. "Shh-shh, relax your body for me. Nice and easy. That's a good kitten." He placed a gentle kiss inside Tal's thigh, and his cock twitched in response, both to the praise and the kiss.

The Master slid a wedged cushion beneath his arse, propping him up for better access. It put a strain on his back and legs, and made him feel even more vulnerable than the restraints themselves. Too, it forced his balance backward onto his upper back, pressing his wounds all the more heavily into the bed.

However, something soon distracted him from all of that. A cool pressure captured his attention as the Master began sliding something into him. He had a silent thought of thanksgiving that the dom had listened and furthermore believed him when he had outlined that he required no preparation; the one-two-three fingers game was aggravating at the best of times for one who controlled the tension and dimensions of his own arsehole, and downright torturous at the worst, when all he wanted was a solid pounding. Now was quickly turning into one of the latter times, so it was especially lovely to just get on with things. (Besides, he was pretty sure that that precise configuration of prep was mostly for bad fanfiction, anyway.)

Master Rodger did seem to be taking his time, though. Dantalion wiggled mutinously, fighting for purchase against his restraints. The wedge kept him too off balance to do anything of use, however. "Please."

The Master resumed his pacifying noises, but also the stroking of Tal's cock, which at least put an end to the squirming. And, soon enough, the toy was inserted to its full length. "Sir, please," Tal huffed, kicking one of his legs down against the bed with the little range of motion he had. The not-quite-burn of the stretch inside him was tantalising, but nowhere near the spark-like bursts of pleasure that would come with active thrusting. He did have to give the Master credit, though; the 'little' reward was not nearly as small as he had implied.

"That's beautiful," Master Rodger reckoned. "Keep begging, kitten. Let me know how much you need it."

"Need it." Tal echoed, still too drunk on himself to look for new words. "Please, sir! Please-please-please." In vain he tried to grind down on the toy, and his failure brought to him a mind-clearing sort of panic. "Fuck, sir, please! Fuck me, I can't--" He cut off with a gasp as the toy was pulled out quickly and rammed home again with force.

And it didn't stop there; the Master set a dazzling rhythm with both toy and paw which immediately had Tal arching his ravaged back. Nor did the begging stop but for the brief moment of the gasp; Dantalion resumed pleading as soon as he caught his breath, babblish and inane though it soon turned. Nor did the panic stop, for now there seemed to him something he needed more than he had needed the toy, something hidden in the glowing heat that built in his lower body.

After a few minutes, that heat coalesced into something real and attainable -- the prize was in reach -- and Tal's begging turned to hoarse moans. Then everything went silent except for the slicking sounds of the Master's ministrations, and Dantalion came white strands upon his own stomach. He held his breath for a few short seconds, then slumped, panting and sated.

Master Rodger trilled his approval in soft, sweet words, and removed the toy. Still (and his eye took on an evil gleam), he had no plan to stop stroking Tal's cock. A fact which Tal realised all too quickly, as the sensations morphed from pleasure to acute aversion. "Oh, no," he murmured.

"Oh, yes, kitten," the Master replied lightly. "Hang on tight."

"Oh, no." He was already so wrung out! What did this fucker expect from him?! "Fuck-- No, no, no, no, no!" Tal writhed, trying in earnest to escape the Master's hands, both of which were working him with a fervor. The tears were back in an instant as he thrashed about, seeking relief. He twisted his face into the side of his arm and bit deeply -- anything to distract from the shock of overstimulation.

"Color!" Master Rodger demanded.

It took about five seconds for Dantalion to wage the war on himself, to persuade himself to accept what it was he truly wanted in this moment. "Gree-hee-heen!" he then sobbed, stripped of the pretense that this was anything other than exactly what he had asked for and needed. The admission hurt nearly as much as, or perhaps more than, the electric sensation between his legs. His pride was broken as he lay keening and twisting atop the bed.

But, as all things do, it eventually ended. There was a sensory stillness in the aftermath that couldn't be stirred even by the damage to his torso; it was as if thick cotton had been shoved into the ears of his skin. He vaguely noted that the Master was speaking to him in a kind and mellow voice as he undid the restraints and massaged at the corresponding joints. What words were said, he did not perceive and likely couldn't comprehend if he did.

However, he knew that he had explained as much in their orientation. There was no harm now in drifting. He gave a casual thumbs up, turned onto his side, and curled into the fetal position -- where he stayed for nearly half an hour. Everything was so soft in this place, so fuzzy and self-contained. It couldn’t even be called a ‘happy place’, because happiness required more awareness than Tal could currently muster, or would desire to. But it was peaceful, and that was all he had truly wanted.

Eventually he did get up, though. As his sensory processing came back up to snuff, he was more inclined to move, to speak, to listen. For a while, Master Rodger held him, and they chatted about the ups and downs of the scene while drinking water. When they were both sure of Tal's steadiness, the Master helped dress his wounds, at least insofar as they really required it. Just something to keep the blood in until they healed of their own accord. Tal gave it two days. Four, max, for a couple of the nastiest ones.

When all was said and done, Dantalion returned to his office feeling like a new demon. Now he could really concentrate on work. But first he would have to order three very special gift baskets: one for Master Rodger, one for Asmodeus, and (the reason he would be ordering them himself and not delegating,) one especially nice one for Sahar.

#tales from the library #sahar #master rodger #(not sure why i'm tagging for him but who knows.)#(he MIGHT come back)

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