This fic is a collaboration with @teeth-farie! It’s a spicy fic pairing our Arcana ocs together. They made art to go with it, which you can admire here!
This technically qualifies as part of the Midsummer Masquerade (credit to @the-midsummer-masquerade), but we decided to release it waaaaaay early since we weren’t sure how popular apprentice x apprentice content would be ╰(*´︶`*)╯
{top/dom!Salem, bottom/sub!Delphi, amab!Salem, amab!Delphi, pet play, dogboy antics, punishment, head scratches, squeaky toys, this is very self indulgent on both of our parts, oral fixation, and anal}
“Delphi?”
Salem cautiously unlocked the door of Delphi’s magic shop using their spare key. They pushed open the door with a creak.
“Delphi, are you alright?”
There was no response at first, then a low whine. They walked in, closing the door behind them.
“Delphi, I’m here to help you. Asra told me what’s going on.”
…
Salem had been washing their clothes, and they nearly jumped out of their skin when Asra’s face materialized in the basin.
“Salem, Delphi needs your help.”
“O-oh, what happened?” They nervously wiped the soapy water from their glasses.
“They drank an unlabeled potion, and turned into a dog,” he said like it was normal for Delphi.
“That sounds normal for Delphi.”
“I know, but the problem is, this time it’s not going away on its own.”
“Uhuh, I’ll be right over, but uh, Asra… you know more about magic than me, why aren’t you helping them?”
“Oh.”
Asra’s face curled into a mischievous smirk.
“Because I told Delphi, ‘if you drink that and it goes wrong, I’m not helping you.’ And they did anyway.”
“Oh!” Salem said. “Yeah, that makes sense I guess!”
…
Back in the present, Salem cast a small light spell, letting it wash over the room. It looked slightly ransacked. Furniture was knocked over. There were claw marks in the floorboards. A few pillows had been shredded open, the feathers scattered across the shop. Salem bent down to examine one. It was… wet, covered in a transculent substance.
Had it been… chewed?
Just then, there was a scampering noise across the floorboards, the sound of claws on wood. They turned just in time to see a fluffy tail tuck behind a couch.
A fluffy, blue tail.
“Delphi?”
Silence.
They sighed. “Delphi, I know it’s you, and I’m here to help you.”
After a few moments, Delphi sheepishly crawled out from behind, crawling on all fours. They had a half relieved, half emberassed expression, their ears were drooping, and their tail was between their legs.
Wait
What?
“I see the problem now,” Salem said.
“Oh, do ya?” Delphi sniffed, their teeth poking out… huh, their teeth were a little sharp like this. They sat back with their hands curled into fists, between their legs. They tilted their head to scratch at an ear with their foot, and for some reason it was that exact moment that it fully sunk in for Salem that they were ass naked.
“So… you took a potion, and it turned you into a dog… person?”
“A dogboy! Yup!” They grinned.
“How did that happen?”
“Oh, you must be confused. I knew the potion was going to give me dog ears. I-I mean I didn’t, but I’ve used a dog ear potion before. That’s not the problem.”
“Oh, really, then what is?”
They suddenly looked a bit sheepish. “Well, I, uh, how do I put this. I didn’t expect it to make me so…”
Salem’s eyes once again wandered down their naked body, to between their legs.
“Great Arcana… you’re in heat, aren’t ya?”
“N-no!” Delphi blushed, turning bright red. “W-well, only a little. It’s just, I’ve been feeling so frustrated… I’ve been running around, chewing on the pillows, and that helps a bit, but not much, I think what I really need is…”
They shifted paw to paw. Salem crouched down, and started to scratch at their ears. Their eyes fluttered shut, a little “oh” escaping their lips. They leaned into their hands, mumbling about how good that felt. Salem went just behind their floppy ears, and they started to drum their foot on the floorboards.
Salem giggled, “you need attention, don’t you?”
Delphi nodded.
Their smile turned into an evil grin. “Say please.” Delphi was already something of a brat normally, they wondered if the potion would make them a good boy, or even more of a bad dog.
“Mmnph,” Delphi grunted, crawling into Salem’s lap. They playfully pushed them off.
“Say please, and you’ll get a treat.”
“Hmmm… or you could just give me a treat,” they said, tail wagging.
“Only good dogs get treats.”
“That’s bullshit!” Delphi said, punctuating it with a pathetic little whine.
“Whose your master?” Salem said, not realizing just how dirty it sounded in this context.
But it seemed to work. Delphi’s ears perked up as soon as the word left their mouth, and their tail began to wag even harder.
“You’re my master,” they said. “Please pet me more.”
“…that’s a good dog,” they said, patting their lap. Delphi quickly scrambled in, and allowed them to pet their hair, their neck, their back, all the while they trembled and whimpered like a bitch in heat.
Salem’s hands came to settle on their waist.
“Roll over.”
Delphi flushed bright red. “Uh-uh, no.”
“Is something wrong?”
“It’s just…“ Delphi blushed, burying their face in Salem’s chest. “Rolling over is a sign of submission. I’d be… submitting to you.”
“Oh?”
Salem gently but firmly grabbed them by the chin, pulling Delphi to face them eye to eye. They had a dreamy look on their face, a bit of drool at the corner of their lips from all the petting.
“Aren’t you already submissive to me?”
Delphi shivered, but still didn’t move. The message was unspoken, but still clear.
Make me.
And Salem was too eager to oblige. They grabbed them by the shoulders, pushing them onto the floorboards and pinning their back to them. They wriggled, and uttered, “hey, what are ya doing!?”
But their tail was once again wagging like crazy, betraying just how much they enjoyed the manhandling.
As soon as they were flipped over, their instincts took hold of them. They curled their hands into fists, holding them up to their head like paws. Their legs bent and spread, exposing their already wet, hard cock.
“Good dog,” Salem praised again, rubbing their tummy. Delphi’s eyes fluttered, “oh, oh that feels real good.” Salem’s hand wandered closer and closer to their crotch, but they refused to touch the throbbing member.
That drove Delphi crazy, they whined and wiggled, begging for Salem to touch them, but frustratingly, they didn’t reply, only smirking back at them. What were they missing?
…oh, right.
“Master, please touch my cock?” They huffed grumpily.
Which turned into a gasp as Salem finally grasped them.
“You aren’t going to thank me?” They teased, but it was useless. Delphi was lost again to their instincts, whining and kicking their leg as they slowly milked their cock, running a thumb over the leaky slit. They arched their back and started to hump into their master’s fist, whimpering about how good it felt.
“You know what would feel even better?”
Delphi froze, opening an eye.
“If you fucked me? Are you going to fuck me, master? Huh? Please? I said please. Now you have to. Good dogs get treats, you said that! So are you gonna fuck me?”
Salem couldn’t help but chuckle. They were so shamelessly needy like this.
“Get on your hands and knees, and stick your ass up for me.”
They did, scrambling and nearly falling over in their haste. They presented themself to Salem, who started by kneading their ass cheeks, gently spreading them to reveal their hole.
“Fuck me?” They demanded again.
“I have to prepare you,” they reminded Delphi.
Delphi whined, burying their face in their arms. Salem ignored their dramatics, and slowly inserted a finger in to test. As soon as they did so, Delphi started to squirm around impatiently, grinding against Salem and misbehaving. Salem was going to scold them when they noticed…
…they were already loose.
“We’re you playing with yourself?”
“Nnngh, no.”
Salem stuck in another finger, poking around until they found their prostrate.
They drove their fingers in, ruthlessly grinding against that spot.
“AUGH! Y-yes, yes I did, I was, I used my toys.”
“Toys? Tell me more.”
“Mmh, mmmmngghh, I-I, I… I used my t-toy cock, th-the little one w- Ah! With the suction! And I ch-chewed on my ch-chew toy.”
“You have a chew toy? Like a little doggie chew toy?”
“D-don’t judge me!”
“How often do you turn yourself into a dog? Are you some kind of pervert?”
“I said don’t judge me!”
They smacked their ass. “Go fetch your squeaker.”
They scrambled off, ducking behind the couch and emerging with a rubber bone. It was a deep, sage green, and riddled with bite marks. They dropped it at Salem’s knees.
“It’s my favorite. It reminded me of you, so I got it. I like to chew on it, w-when I use this potion I mean.”
“So you use this potion a lot? Does it turn you on? Do you like being a helpless, naughty little mutt being manhandled by me?”
“I’m not a mu- uhh, uhuuuh, ohhhh…”
Delphi opened their mouth to protest, but let it go when they started to pat them again. They gently pet Delphi, slowly going from their dog ears to their cheeks… before hooking their thumb into their lip, pulling open their jaw with some force. They ran their thumbs over their teeth, confirming their suspicion. Delphi’s teeth had grown sharper while under this spell.
Delphi moaned, letting their tongue fall out of their mouth, opening wider for Salem.
Then they bit down on their fingers.
“Hey! Bad dog!” They scolded, shaking their hand to get the drool off.
“What did you expect?” They smirked. “You can’t put something tasty in front of me and expect me not to bite.”
Salem forced their mouth open again, shoving the bone into their mouth. “I want you to chew on that while I fuck you, alright doggie?”
They nodded, and squeaked the bone in confirmation.
Salem glanced over them. Their teeth sinking into the toy, their adorable dog ears framing their lustful gaze, their tail wagging just above their puckered entrance, their poor needy cock… it was all perfect.
But perhaps it could use one last cherry on top.
“You got a dog collar?”
They didn’t reply, once again only blushing.
“May I collar you?”
They jerked their head towards a small crate, near the couch. Salem searched through it, finding a few more toys (of various purpose) and… a dog collar with a lead.
They returned to Delphi, who leaned their head into Salem’s neck again, nuzzling into them as they tightened the collar. Salem kissed their temple, and Delphi kissed their neck in response.
…
*Squeak! Squeak! Squeak! Squeak!*
Delphi moaned, clenching their jaw with every thrust. The leather of the collar dug into their neck, a sensation they usually disliked, but right now? They couldn’t get enough of it. Not could they get enough of the way Salem bent their body, maneuvering them to get the deepest possible angle. Gods, it was so good. If they they this was all it took to get some attention, they’d have drunk a suspect potion months ago.
“Arrrah,” they said, muffled by the bone.
“I can’t hear you, besides. I didn’t say-“
They spat out their bone. “Faster, faster im close!”
Salem smacked their ass. “I didn’t say speak.”
“Ah, Ah, sorry master, nngh, just too good!”
“You want me to speed up? Then start barking. Don’t speak English until I say you can.”
“Aahhh, arf! Arf!” Delphi barked, their cock starting to twitch. They had to ask permission, but…
“Bark! Bark!”
“What a good dog,” they cood, finally beginning to pick up the pace. They straddled Delphi’s leg, driving themselves directly into their prostrate.
“Ah, ahhhh!”
If that wasn’t permission, Delphi… really didn’t care. They were cumming either way. Their cock twitched harder, and they let out an animalistic howl as they began to spill onto the floor.
Salem cood over them as they came, petting their thigh as they too started to spill over, the warmth flooding Delphi’s insides, marking them as their dog.
“Did you enjoy that?” They asked, not even needing to. The satisfied expression on Delphi’s face really said it all.
Until their eyes snapped open, and they shot Salem a mischievous grin.
Finally made clovers masquerade out fit. Even tho her familiar is a red panda, but a monarch seemed more suiting.
In Mexico and Aztec belief its said that on every nov 1 the monarchs that come over from Canada are the loved ones that have died coming over to visit. Symbolic for the day of the dead.
Also wanted to create a sprite for @arcana-madness apprentice aeorus. Their design for his masquerade out was just AMAZING GOSH I HAD SO MUCH FUN
Besides can’t draw one of them with out the other. They are adorable together.
(A/N: Thank you So Much for letting me Do This I- I’m also fucking around with form and finding out. Also I will lay down and die for Earth x Sun dynamnics in case you could not tell-)
Haider Wazim x Aelius Anatole from @sunrisenfool
Words: 1.5k
*
Provenance (n) : The beginning of something's existence; something's origin.
*
Anatole remembers the first time he’d kissed Haider. The sound of music muted in the hall outside, the cold touch of metal bangles against his waist, the scent of flowers, and henna, and something else he couldn’t place- and the look in Haider’s mahogany eyes as he pulled back to catch his breath-
“Your hair’s the color of sunshine, Anatole.”
A beat of silence, veering to apology, a furious flush staining Haider’s bronze cheeks crimson. “Not the time?”
Anatole laughed, and kissed him again.
*
He always lingered outside the door to Anatole’s office, waiting for the needle to inch towards five-thirty on the dot. Not a moment too early, not a moment too late, and never in a hurry. It was just how Haider liked it.
When he knocked, the door swung open, and Haider stepped in, the tinkle of his anklets and the scent of bauhinias signaling his arrival.
“I could set my clock by your timing, Haider.” Anatole looked up from his desk with a smile. Resting his quill, he got to his feet, dark brown eyes sparkling as he took Haider in, in that particular, carefully obvious way that never failed to make him blush.
He’d anticipated that look when he’d hastened to freshen up after he’d closed up the restaurant, pinning fresh flowers into his hair, a new, beige silk scarf around his broad shoulders, a few more bangles to clink at his wrists.
“Hello,” was all Haider could manage to say, the breath leaving his body in a rush.
*
The next time, he was calmer, their fingers barely touching as they walked together.
Anatole realized that Haider wore his magic like he wore his kindness- on his sleeve, in his heart, in his smile, clinging to him like the scent of his perfume, open and honest and welcoming. The air brightened with it- the plants in the gardens always straightened when Haider walked past them, tender leaves unfurling when he brushed his hand over them.
Something in his heart unfurled with it.
*
Anatole never said a word he didn’t mean.
“This is lovely,” he reached up on tiptoes to tap at Haider’s windchimes, smiling at the silver song of it.
“This too,” he ran his fingers over the flowers he’d painted on to the walls. Outside, the clamor of Haider’s guests for the weekend- his house was never empty- slowed to a murmur. “And this,” he took Haider’s hand, pressing his lips to the henna-butterflies at his fingertips.
He spoke with conviction enough that Haider could see the soft contours of that word curl in the air between them- colored like the blaze of sunrise- he felt it glow in the palm of his hand like a firefly, feel it press warm against his chest-
Damn him, must Nana always delight in seeing him blush and stutter?
And if he never said a word that he didn’t mean-
“Is this okay?” Haider asked him, his palm pressed to the tattoo over Anatole’s heart.
“Yes,”
“And this?” He wound his arms around Anatole’s waist, pulled him to his lap.
“Yes-“ Dark eyes fluttered shut.
“I want to paint flowers all over you.” Haider paused, and winced. “I’m-“
“Don’t be.” Anatole sighed, his fingers tangling in Haider’s black hair. “Don’t be sorry.”
Okay. Okay. Okay.
Haider felt the weight, and clammy undercurrent of anxiety, lift off his shoulder.
Don’t be sorry.
Okay.
Touch me.
Okay.
*
“And now you garnish it.”
He added flakes of chocolate to the freshly baked cake, blowing gently over it when he cut off a slice, smooth and practiced, to offer it to Anatole. “Careful,” he murmured, his eyes widening at Nana’s eagerness.
“I’m not much of a baker, I’m afraid-“
“Not much of a baker?” Anatole asked weakly, nearly light-headed from the rush of flavor and softness and the crumble, the touch of caramel- “What are you talking about?”
Haider laughed. “Okay, I’m a better cook than I am a baker.”
“Am I invited to see for myself?” He mumbled past another mouthful of cake.
“Oh-“ Haider brightened, no, bloomed, grinning from ear to ear as though the treat was his. “Anytime.”
*
He never came in empty-handed. There was something, always- a snack, a meal, a pot of coffee, always laced with his magic. He never appeared without the questions, either- asked almost out of habit.
“Have you eaten?”
“You look like you’ve been sitting there for hours- d’you want a massage?”
One time, uncharacteristically, Haider had been in a rush to get dressed, pulling his scarf over himself and tugging on his shoes.
“Are you sure you’re not staying for coffee?” Anatole frowned.
“Can’t.” He slid his bangles past his wrists, giving Nana an apologetic glance. “I promised the kids I’ll fly kites with them before sunset.”
The kids. The horde of small mischief-makers who clung to him on weekends, at his restaurant’s closing hour, demanding snacks and playtime.
Anatole couldn’t resist teasing a little. “And they can’t wait?”
“Nana!” Haider stared at him, scandalized. “I can’t break a promise!”
*
Anatole had once read that green magic builds over time to rest with the practitioner’s body- years upon years of caring and tending and creating imprinting calluses and waves of energy that had by now become Haider’s own.
It was a thing to be earned, and no matter how much it had been taught and principled into him, to care was to choose- and often to choose goodness. He knew that more often than not, it was not a choice made in lightness.
Anatole found himself wanting to lean into that warmth, touch it, hold it, and return it.
*
Haider did not read poetry.
Metaphors were beyond him- and a code beyond those of colors and measures and precision made him lose footing in the slip-slide of words.
Aarcha, however, did.
Anatole did too.
He ignored the sly look Aarcha gave him when he pocketed the tiny volume from her shelf, a Zadithi poet, she told him, in translation. The book was only a little larger than his palm, and he lay awake at night flipping aimlessly through it until he founda verse that caught his eye.
To the Sun.
His heart squeezed in his chest, and he couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at his lips.
Today when I think of storms, I only think of them breaking-
Golden and gracious against the damp earth on the morning of its ceasing-
I borrow time from the folds of your laughter
I float on its wave like a kite to tomorrow-
The promise of you undoes the night.
I let you fill the silver cracks between sleep and waking with sunflowers-
He couldn’t read any more. Haider’s throat closed, and he buried his burning face into the pillow like a lovesick teenager.
*
Anatole crossed the space between them, and instinctively, Haider wrapped his arms around him, holding him close, one arm around his waist and the other curled tenderly at the nape of his neck. Even though he barely reached up to his chest, Anatole smiled, feeling beneath his palm how Haider’s heart raced, raced, as it always did whenever they touched.
The man couldn’t be subtle if he tried.
“Congratulations,” he murmured. “You’ve worked so hard, and I wish I could have made it. I just -”
“Don’t like making promises you can’t keep.” Haider finished for him, pulling back to tuck a strand of golden hair behind Anatole’s ear. A few important diplomatic visits had timed themselves squarely into Anatole’s schedule just as Haider had hosted a party to celebrate his restaurant’s new wing. “And that’s a good thing, Nana.”
“Well,” Anatole stepped back with a smile full of promises that meant as hell to keep. “I have something for you instead.”
When he unwrapped the painting from its silk casing, emblazoned with the imprint of the auction house from where Nana had found it, Haider’s breath caught, his heart raced, his eyes stung with tears.
“Nana, you didn’t.”
“I did.”
“You-“ Haider was lost for words, his eyes the size of coins as he looked over the painting, again and again.
Simple and lovely- Kites In the Summer Sky- the colors vivid enough to leap off the canvas, gentle enough to rest around the viewer like an embrace. “Provenance is pretty solid, I-“
“I know.” Haider whispered, stopping shy of touching the signature inked in black at the corner of the canvas. Thasveer Wazim.
“It’s Vaapa’s. I’d know it anywhere.”
Haider saw the slow strokes of his father’s brush, the brilliant blue of the sky over the house that now lay empty. If he listened, he thought he could hear the slow hum of his voice, the cheerful “Zainu! Haidi! Come over here!”
Holding Vaapa’s paintings always felt like coming home.
Finding them, a feat of rare effort.
“You must’ve gone to so much trouble.”
Anatole shook his head, fondly. “Some effort yes, but no trouble.”
Haider straightened, tore his eyes away from the painting to look at Nana instead. He thought that he’d been certain about where they stood with each other- fleeting engagements, fond entanglements, but this, but this-
He reached out to take Anatole’s hand, trusting his answer before he could even voice his question. “Why, Nana?”
Anatole cupped Haider’s cheek in his palm, reached up on tiptoe to press a kiss to his beard. “Why do you think, Haidi?”
😌 woke up today and chose violence (aka I stayed up writing this and cried)
@dela-png and I were talking about Maeve and Lucas and what they’d fight about and well this wouldn’t leave my smol brain, so enjoy 💕💕💕💕
Maeve x Lucas, angst, 2.5k words. --Lucas reversed ending-ish--
TW/tags (”real” triggers will be marked!): brief description of an injury, overworking, neglect, fighting, a whole lotta angst, and god I hope I got his character right
(title is from this song, it’s really good, give it a listen!)
~~~~
The candles were burning low. With them her energy. He wasn’t back yet. Of course he wasn’t. She knew him. Sometimes he’d come back late.
Other times he’d fall asleep at his desk leaving her alone in an empty bed.
She rubbed her arms, the summer so hot the heat was almost sticking to her skin. Her bangs were plastered across her forehead with her sweat. It had been a long day in the infirmary. She was tired. She was lonely.
She missed him. He wasn’t gone, but...in a way he was. She missed him so much it hurt.
She closed her eyes, rubbing her temples. She knew if she focused too much on it she’d get a headache. This amount of stress wasn’t good for you but…
She looked away from the papers spread out on the small desk a few feet away from her...their bed. It used to be everytime she thought of it being their room and their bed and their space she got butterflies. But he was gone so often it had become hers, hadn’t it?
She pushed herself away from the desk, going to get ready for bed. It was a little late for a bath, she’d probably take one in the morning. Sleeping was going to be a miserable experience but...
It wasn’t like he was around to care.
Anger snapped up at her stomach like a vise. She knew he had a lot to do. She knew he had a lot of responsibilities. She knew how important this was to him.
But...wasn’t she important too? Didn’t he care about her?
He said he did but...she didn’t know anymore and it hurt.
The door to their room creaked open, Maeve freezing in her tracks.
It was late. Normally he’d be asleep at his desk. Normally she’d be asleep. Alone.
They met eyes.
“Lucas,” she said, the musical tone of her voice gone. In its place was something flat and unfeeling.
It hurt.
It hurt so much.
“...Maeve,” he murmured, trying to hide the new injury on his arm.
Her anger returned, roaring with a vengeance.
“Sit down,” she said, her tone offering no place for arguing. He was covered in ash, probably went to check out the fire that happened earlier that week. No one was hurt, but a bunch of houses were lost.
He looked how she felt.
He followed her orders, falling into a chair with a ‘thump’. His hair hung over his eyes, slowly losing its curl due to sweat and ash. He was going to need a bath too.
She gathered her bandages, herbs and medicines. This was not the time for anything fancy.
But she couldn’t stop the rage she felt when she looked at him.
She tugged her desk chair over to him, sitting down and focusing on the wound.
His skin was warm and tacky with sweat. Blood oozed down the large cut. She swiped a damp rag over it. A muscle twitched in his cheek but he didn’t say anything.
“Welcome home,” she said, not hiding the bitterness in her tone. He deserved to hear it. He deserved her anger. “I missed you.”
He only grunted in response, fueling the ebbing, festering anger.
“You’ve got to stop this.” Every time. Every time he’d come back to her it was for an injury. She knew he didn’t trust easily. She knew she was his go to for help.
But it stung when your boyfriend would only come to see you when he was hurt.
Another grunt in response.
He wasn’t listening to her. Again.
As usual.
She tightened the bandage with a little more force than necessary, trying to keep from lashing out.
It fucking hurt. It hurt so much it was hard to breathe.
“You need to stop overworking yourself,” she said, trying to force her voice to be soft, fingers brushing his before falling into her lap. Her feet were bare and curled around one another. She felt alone and vulnerable.
“There’s so much I have to do,” he replied.
“And? Why can’t they give you a break? Haven’t you done enough on your own? Why not let someone else take the burden?” she snapped, his eyes meeting hers again.
She pissed him off but she didn’t care. Let him be angry. Let him feel an inkling of what she did. He deserved it for what he was doing.
Not only to himself, but her too.
“I can’t. You know this,” he spat.
Her hands trembled in clenched fists. “I don’t. I don’t know that. Because in my eyes, you have a whole fucking team of people and yet you do everything yourself.”
“Because I can’t trust anyone else to do it.”
“Then why do you even have them?!”
He gritted his teeth. “Because I need them.”
She breathed in sharply. “And yet, you don’t use them.”
“These are not their jobs!”
“THEN WHAT ARE THEIR JOBS?” She couldn’t stop her voice from rising to a yell. She couldn’t stop herself from jumping to her feet. The chair fell back with a crash but she didn’t care. “If they are so useful then what do they do?!”
She was losing control. Her hands warmed. Her eyes flashed. Her nose burned with unshed tears.
But she did not care.
“They help me, Maeve! They are there to support the people!”
“While you do all the heavy lifting because you can’t let anyone in?!”
“It’s dangerous and you know it.”
“Lucas, they are your CONSUL. If you can’t trust them to do even the simplest of tasks, then why do you have them?! What is their use?”
“Maeve we are not going to have this conversation again!”
“Maybe if you just listen to me we wouldn’t be discussing this for the hundredth time!”
He growled, deep and low in his throat. She snapped her teeth back, balling her hands into fists. His imitation tactics would not work on her.
“Lucas I am here to help you, they are here to help you. So let us!”
“This is my job Maeve! I can’t ask you to take the burden!” He was yelling now. They both were. They probably woke half the palace up by now.
She. Did. Not. Care.
“Then why am I here?!” she snapped. He looked like she had slapped him. Her eyes burned with tears.
“Because I let you be.” His voice was low. It was angry. It was a command.
And it hurt.
She stepped back, pushing the chair back with her steps. He didn’t look at her, just held a hand on his new bandage. “Thanks...for fixing me up.”
She didn’t reply, just let the tears roll down her face as she looked at the ground.
“I’m going to get back to work.”
He started walking to the door. He almost made it by the time she spoke up again. She was done playing his game. She was done fighting with him.
She was done sleeping alone.
“I’ll leave.”
He froze, one hand on the doorknob. “What?”
She forced her head up, showing her tears with a streak of pride. If she couldn’t convince him with words, then she would with actions.
“You heard me. I’ll leave.”
He turned to look at her, fury barely being contained in his eyes. Those two words caused a dam to break inside him.
Good.
“Why? Because you don’t love me anymore? So you’re gonna leave like everyone else? Now that I don’t give you what you want you’re just gonna walk out on me?”
His words cut deep. She actually gasped from the pain.
“You...you think I’m here for something other than the fact that I love you?” she gasped out. “You think I’m here for something?!” She couldn’t stop her fury.
It hit her in waves.
First it was cool, then her body trembled and warmed.
Then she was on fire.
“You think I’m here for some object? For some thing?”
“Maeve. I...no I’m…” he seemed to be at a loss for words, floundering. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Lucas I am here because I love you! But I do not want to be your doctor.” She swiped at her tears. “Do you know...how much it hurts to only see your love when they’re hurt? Having the only conversations with them be arguments? Do you know how much it hurts to watch them kill themselves because they can’t let you in?!”
“Maeve-”
“I am going to say this once.” She stood with her legs spread wide. She stood to feel powerful. She stepped closer to him, her strides filled with purpose.
“If you do not get your shit together, then I will leave. If you do not listen to people, if you do not let them in. If you don’t take a break and trust people I will walk out that door!” Her voice snapped over the last word in her sentence.
Cracking and shattering.
She was a mess. She was dizzy. She was angry. The heat of the summer made her clothes cling to her. One of the legs on her pants was rolled up to her knee, her shirt was falling off her shoulder. Her hair fell in ringlets around her shoulders. There was blood on her shirt.
Sweat dripped down the back of her neck, she only felt the all encompassing heat of her deep buried magic.
She did not care.
“I am here because I love you. I am here because I trust and care about you. But if you can’t trust and care about me back, then I will save myself the heartache and go.”
She was fighting back a sob.
She turned her back to him, not wanting him to see her tears get heavier. They fell like rain. She didn’t stop them, nor did she want to.
She bent down and picked up the chair, moving it next to the one he sat in.
The world spun. Her chest ached.
She missed him so much. She loved him so much. She cared, loved, felt about him so strongly it cut deep.
Like a festering wound left untreated, she stood there. Her skin burned, she bit her cheek to keep from breaking down right there. She wouldn’t. Not while he was still there.
He stood in silence behind her, she could feel him. Shifting back and forth. Waiting. Watching.
She moved to go to...their...bathroom. If he wasn’t going to leave, then she would move away so she wouldn’t have to see him.
He grabbed her hand, fingers closing around hers gently. So gently. A movement and she’d be out of his grasp.
She stopped, bringing her foot back to stand still.
He squeezed her hand once.
She waited a moment before squeezing back.
They stood in silence, hands clasped, for a few heartbeats.
The blood roaring in her ears slowed. His breathing soon became all that she heard.
He let go of her hand, fingers ghosting up the length of her arm. She felt goosebumps erupt on her skin.
His touch was so light and so gentle she wanted to break down. She wanted to break down with how much she missed it.
His hand brushed her shoulder, not bothering to adjust the shirt falling down. She almost gasped with how cold his fingertips were. He held his hand against the side of her neck, and against her better judgment she leaned into his touch.
“...I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion.
“I know,” she responded, choking on the words.
His hand dropped from her neck as he looped his arms around her waist, tugging her into his chest.
She didn’t look up at him, just leaned into his embrace and cried.
She could feel his tears as they fell onto her hair, and they stood in silence together.
He was a mess and probably smeared ash all over her with his touch. Ash and ink from working on something.
Hell she didn’t even know.
She let out a small sob, leaning back into him. She missed him. His touch. Her skin burned. “Hold me,” she whispered. “Please, Lucas please hold me.” She was begging.
She ached for him.
She wanted him.
Please.
It was a desperate plea but all she wanted was him.
He leaned closer, kissing the top of her head as they cried. “Please. Lucas. Please,” she whispered, repeating it over
And over
And over
And over again.
Falling for a man like this was never easy. She hated how neglectful he was.
But in quiet moments like this, none of it seemed to matter.
It wasn’t until her legs gave out and became wobbly that he moved again.
He scooped her up, cradling her close. She couldn’t stop her tears once they started, pouring out all her loneliness and hurt out.
He only softly hushed her, rocking her back and forth and he settled her into the sheets.
He shifted as if he was going to leave and she grabbed his hand, hiccuping. She was going to hate herself in the morning but she didn’t care.
“Don’t go. Don't go please. Please, please don’t go,” she cried, the tears falling faster. “Lucas stay with me.”
His name on her lips stopped him again. He sat back down, back to her, her hand still on his arm.
His next word was slow. Slow, thick, emotional, wanting. “Okay.”
And he stayed.
He took off his boots, turning over to bundle her up in his arms. His eyes were red and blotchy. His hands trembled around her, her shirt rising up. She didn’t care, fisting the fabric of his shirt in her quivering hands.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered to her hair. “I’m so sorry.” He repeated it, each time his voice cracking.
“I know. I know,” she whispered back, trying to get closer. Closer. It wasn’t enough. It would never be close enough. “I miss you,” she whispered, lips brushing his collar bone. “Missed you here with me. I miss you so much Lucas. It hurts. Why does it hurt so much?”
He didn’t respond, just held her closer, whispering soft intelligible things to her hair.
She sniffled, kissing his neck. He tasted like salt. He had smudges of ash up his jaw. He probably got smudges on her and her clothes.
“You need a bath,” she murmured.
“I know,” he rumbled. “You need one too.”
She smiled, tears spilling from her eyes again. She missed their talks. Jokes. Flirtations. He had gotten quiet with his new position.
She missed his voice.
“Is that an invitation?”
He chuckled, toying with the ends of her hair. “And if it is?”
She kissed his neck again, her breath warm against his skin. His office probably had a drafty window. “If it’s an invitation.” Another kiss, this one made him squirm a little. “My answer is yes.”
He didn’t respond, but she could feel him smile.
He pressed a kiss into her hair, and they settled into silence.
She knew this was going to be hard.
She knew he wasn’t going to be easy to get along with.
She knew he wasn’t going to listen to her all the time.
She knew she was just as hard-headed and stubborn as he was.
But in that moment all she could feel was how much she loved him. In that soft, emotionally charged moment, it was all she wanted.
Uhhhh I have nothing to say for myself other than the fact I am a Cancer. Dante belongs to @arcanecadenza and thank you again for letting me borrow him!
Shadows and dappled sunlight played across deep brown skin. It was enough to make Dante consider staying for an extra day. Or two. Maybe even three. Andrico had that way about him. He was all warmth and welcome, raspy whispers against your ear that convince you fucking in his garden in the middle of the day was a good idea. A butterfly flew overhead.
Dante could ask. It wasn’t as if Andrico hadn't asked himself before, breathy stays pressed against his collarbone. Of course he couldn’t the first time Andrico had asked, or the second or the third time. Eventually Andrico stopped asking and it was for the best. It had to be for the best.
But today? Today with good company and good food and a good man, Dante could see himself staying. But just for one more day. Or two. Or four. All he had to do was ask. A warm hand tangled easily with his.
“What are you thinking about cheri?” Andrico asked with a smile. His voice was low and his eyes were warm, warm enough to burn. Dante’s mind raced.
I want to stay. Just for another day or two. Or four or seven or for as long as you’ll have me. Maybe I do not need to physically be. Could my heart stay here with you?
“I was wondering how you managed to grow a mango tree out here,” he said instead.
Andrico perked up instantly. He went into a detailed explanation about magic, good soil, and sheer luck. Dante nodded when appropriate but he felt like he was miles away. He could have asked, but he didn’t. Tomorrow he would leave and live his life without Andrico just as Andrico would live his life without him.
A warm breeze rustled the leaves above them, the light and shadows making it look like Andrico was under water. Next time Dante would ask for sure.
