#also the fucker named himself on her grave

[storiesforallfandoms]

releasing the beast ~ eminem

word count: 1575

request?: yes!

“Can I request an eminem imagine of where another artist puts out a track that mentions his long time partner. Em fires right back, standing up for his girl letting everyone know she is off limits. Thanks!”

description: there are two people in his life that you don’t mess with: his daughter and his girlfriend, and this idiot just messed with both of them

pairing: eminem x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist (one, two)

I knew the asshole was done for within the first three lines of the song when he said Hailie’s name. Whether or not Marshall actually gave a shit about the diss track now meant nothing because his baby girl was called out, and everyone knew he didn’t take too kindly to anyone talking shit about Hailie.

But I was shocked when the same asshole decided to bury himself deeper in his own grave by saying my name in the second verse.

Now, to be clear, people saying shit about me never got to me. In all the years I had been dating Marshall, I had gotten used to getting hateful comments from people online. I had learned that you just have to let that stuff wash off your back like it was nothing. But, when it came to another rapper using me as fodder to diss Marshall, he had made it clear long ago that I was off limits. Anyone who dared to come after me was basically asking to have their career ruined.

I hadn’t heard anyone be so stupid in such a long time. I was almost amused when I heard my name in the song and the poor excuse of a diss that followed it.

I knew Marshall had heard as well because he stormed into the kitchen, where I had been making us dinner, from his office. His face was red with anger and, if this were a cartoon, I’d be seeing smoke coming from his ears.

“So,” I said, a slight grin on my face, “what did you think of the song?”

“I can’t believe that fucker,” he said. “Not only using Hailie, but saying shit about you too.”

“He has a death wish,” I said with a shrug. “Wants to kill his career and himself with one terrible song.”

“I’m so sick of this shit. These new fuckers keep telling me I’m too old to be calling them out in my music, but then they provoke me by saying shit about my daughter and my girlfriend. It’s like pick a fucking side; do you want the old me or not?”

“What are you gonna do?” I asked him.

“I’m gonna make sure that fucker never says your name ever again, that’s what I’m gonna do.”

Maybe I shouldn’t have, but hearing how passionate Marshall was about standing up for me made me feel a little happy. Also, thinking about hearing the diss track he was about to drop on this motherfucker had me extremely excited.

~~~~~~

A few weeks passed and Marshall hadn’t said anything else about the song. When it first dropped, he was in the middle of planning a tour and promoting his newest album. He had a lot scheduled in the following weeks, much to his annoyance since he was itching to get into the studio and record a response.

The longer it took, the more the other rapper’s fans took his silence to mean acceptance of defeat. While the song really did not go hard by any means, they were all convinced it was the best diss track to ever be released against Marshall. They thought he was running scared with his tail between his legs, as if Marshall didn’t get his start as a battle rapper.

The more time that passed, the more I was itching to hear the song he had been working on.

“I don’t want dad to respond,” Hailie told me one day while we were having a girls day with Alaina. “That’s what this guy wants so he can get more attention towards himself. Dad should just leave it be.”

“Under any other circumstances he would, but we both know the minute our names were brought up that your dad was going to respond in some way,” I told her. “You don’t fuck with Marshall’s girls.”

“But again, that’s exactly what this guy wants. He knew he’d touch a nerve by dissing us. If dad just ignored him it would get under his skin so much more.”

“We both know that’s not how your dad is wired. He’s very protective over the two of us. He doesn’t want anyone saying shit about us because we’re just the bystanders in this. Especially you. He doesn’t want his baby girl dragged into a beef that has nothing to do with her.”

“She’s got a point, Hails,” Alaina said. “Dad’s not about to let some nobody insult any of us. And maybe it’s not a bad thing for him to put this idiot in his place for thinking it’s okay to say the shit he did about you guys.”

Hailie sighed. “I guess you’re right.”

When I called Marshall later that night, I could tell he sounded worn down. “Please tell me you’re getting some rest and not spending all of your off time working on the song.”

“I don’t have time to work on it otherwise, and the longer I don’t put out a response the longer this fucker thinks he’s winning,” Marshall responded. “I can’t let that happen.”

“I know that, and we all know you’re going to destroy him with whatever you decide to release, but you can’t let yourself get too run down before the tour. You need to rest. He’s not worth letting yourself get run down or sick over. Promise me you’ll take at least tonight off to just rest.”

I heard him sigh. I knew it was a hard ask for Marshall to not work, especially on something as serious (to him anyways) as this diss track, but I meant what I said. I wasn’t going to let him get run down over a needless feud with someone who didn’t have any attention on him before he decided to drop the diss against Marshall.

“Okay, I promise,” he said finally.

“And I need proof of that promise.”

He chuckled. “Proof?”

“Yeah. Like...I don’t know, send me pictures of you resting in bed or something.”

“Oh, I’ll gladly send you pictures of me in bed.”

I playfully rolled my eyes even though I knew Marshall couldn’t see me. “Well, if that’s what it’ll take to make you rest then who am I to stop you?”

And then the day finally came: the song was released.

No announcement, no warnings, just like he had with his recent albums. It just dropped out of nowhere and the fans went crazy. I was almost convinced they were going to crash Spotify and YouTube when it went live first.

The song dropped the day before Marshall got home, so I listened to it so I could give him my reaction when I saw him. It was exactly how I expected it to go: pointing out the shitty disses, the difference in success between the two, and of course, calling him out for trying to diss myself and Hailie.

There wasn’t a lot surrounding that final part in the song, just a few lines saying to keep mine and Hailie’s name out of his mouth, but that’s all there needed to be. As excited as I was to hear the song, I agreed with Hailie that I didn’t want the two of us pulled into this beef too much. Just hearing the anger in his voice during those parts were enough to make me feel satisfied with the response.

When he came home the next day I met him at the door with hugs and kisses. He chuckled, putting down his luggage so he could properly hug and kiss me back.

“I missed you,” I told him.

“I missed you, too,” he responded. “I’m assuming you heard the song?”

“Oh yeah, I’ve listened to it at least five times now.”

“What do you think?” he asked. “About the part mentioning you, I mean.”

“I think it was good. I like that it’s just a brief mention and I don’t think you needed to go any further than that. Just a reminder that anyone who tries to fuck with your girls will be slaughtered.”

Marshall smiled and pulled me back into another hug. “I’m glad you liked it. I was partially worried when I released it that maybe it was a bad idea.”

“Why?”

He sighed. “Hailie told me she didn’t want me to make a response because she didn’t think it was needed. She thought I should just leave it. I didn’t think about it until after I had finished the song and said I just wanted to release it when it was finished that maybe I should’ve just left it be.”

I looked up at him and cupped his face in my hands. “I think you made the right choice, and it’s up to you where things go from here. You’re the one being called out directly, you’re the one who decides how to handle that.”

“You’re right. I just hate it when anyone tries to mess with you. No one says shit about my girls and gets away with it.”

“We all know that. Some people are just stupid enough to test that theory.” I took his hand in mine and pulled him into the house more. “Come on, no more worrying about it. You’re home, you have time off, let’s just spend time together until you go on tour.”

He smiled and followed me into the house, which eventually (and inevitably) turned into me leading him up to our bedroom so I could welcome him home the proper way.

*sorry this sucks i started writing it when i actually had inspiration but then lost the inspiration but i wanted to finish it and post it :(*

#eminem #eminem imagine #eminem x reader #marshall mathers #marshall mathers imagine #marshall mathers x reader #imagine #one shot #request #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

[hazelroses1]

Experienced Lifter Katsuki Isn't Helping the New Girl Until He Does

Gym AU - Modern AU - Suggestive - Kacchako

Katsuki always works out alone and avoids annoying people who attend his gym’s scheduled classes. His gym mate, Eijirou, a CrossFit coach, talks him into attending one of his classes. He begrudgingly agrees with the promise that Eijirou will never ask him again. It’s Saturday morning, hot and sticky already, and he wants to get this fucking show on the road when a woman approaches him. Her workout attire hugs her every curve, highlighting her hips and full breasts. Not only that, but she’s also toned, clearly a girl who takes her fitness journey seriously. Katsuki blinks himself out of his stupor as she introduces herself as Ochako.

“I, um, see you working out a lot outside of the classes,” she says, arms folding behind her back. “Wanna be partners for the workout? Eijirou told me you would be here and that working out with you would be a good challenge for me.”

She wants to work out with him?! If she wants to get her ass reamed, he’ll gladly provide it, but he’s made a grave mistake about her. Ochako is strong as shit and has the stamina to match. She’s holding his pace and doing some exercises without modifying them. Watching her do pull-ups in those tiny fucking blue shorts has him licking his lips. When they finish, and he turns to leave, his body on fire, and not just from the workout, she calls out to him.

“Hey, I was wondering if you’d help me practice my barbell lifts?”

No. Absolutely fucking not. It isn’t his goddamn job. Katsuki quit coaching two years ago and wasn’t about to pick it up now. His gym time included him and weights, not him, the weights, and a tiny buff smoke show.

“Tch, ask Eijirou,” he snaps, walking over to his water bottle that’s close to the door leading into the protein and snack area. “He’s the damn coach!”

Ochako follows, not at all phased by his gruff response.

“He told me to ask you.”

Katsuki glares at Eijirou, who’s conveniently giving him a thumbs up. This stupid fucker is setting him up. Katsuki would kill him. He’s told him a million times he’s not looking for a fucking relationship. Katsuki will murder him, resuscitate him, and kill him again.

“I want to do a weightlifting competition in a few months,” she explains, stopping when Katsuki does. He grabs his water bottle with enough force to collapse it. “He said you’re really good with Olympic lifting.”

Katsuki’s chest fills with dread. If he says yes, which he fucking won’t, he’ll have to train with Ochako and her tiny shorts that ride up to show the underside of her ass for a while. It would be idiotic to say yes.

“I won’t go fucking easy on you,” Katsuki says, contradicting the hard no in his thoughts. “You do what I say, or we’re done, got it?”

Her face lights up, her excited expression wearing on his stiff demeanor. “Got it! Your name is Katsuki, right?”

He grunts in response. Ochako brushes it off and bows. “Nice to meet you!”

Nice in-fucking-deed. Katsuki and Ochako train a few times weekly, and she’s growing on him. She rotates between buying him protein powders, pre-workouts, and protein bars as compensation for his time, no matter how many times he yells at her not to.

“I’m gonna make you smile!” she tells him, and she’s gotten pretty close.

Katsuki finds himself thinking about her more than he should, picturing how fucking hot she looks pulling 113kg deadlifts off the floor with ease. She can do five sets of eight now, and that’s after 200-meter sprints. He’s staring at her ass more and eying her chest when he should be focused on spotting her bench press. He knows she’s noticed because she drags him into the locker rooms one day and gives him a shy but coy smile. Katsuki freezes as she wraps her arms around his shoulders.

“I really like you, Katsuki, and I think you want me as bad as I want you.”

“You’re a dumbass,” he croaks. “I never said that.”

She raises an eyebrow and puts enough pressure on his growing erection with her upper thigh that he thinks he might die.

“Your body shows me you’re interested, and it’s not the first time.” Ochako hooks a finger in the waistband of his shorts. “You think I don’t notice when you get hard around me? These don’t hide much, you know.”

Fuck.

#kacchako #hazel headcanons #bnha fanfiction #bnha headcanons #hazelkacchako

[dragonmuse]

I had so much fun with your scenario in which Izzy becomes a writer! Do you think there's any chance of a universe somewhere where he'd become a professional chef? Maybe one that makes a name for himself making food that's both gourmet and allergen-free... I love all these possible AUs that you write, by the way <3

( Thank you so much! <3.

soooo this one became a full on fic. no bulleted list. Because of that, there was no place to put it, but Eddy in this timeline comes out in her teens and is already out when she meets Izzy. CW: There is an old-fashioned Izzy allergy attack in this one. Brief mention of a hospital, but no one stays there.

Let's call this one 'bottle of red, bottle of white' )

“Boss?”  Fang appeared at Eddy’s elbow. They were trying to sort out the reservation system that Hornigold had foisted on them last week. It was a fucking mess. 

“What?” Eddy snapped. 

“There’s an emergency.” 

Eddy whirled on Fang, who did have a wild look about him. 

“What kind?” 

“Ivan already called 911. It’s Izzy.” 

“Did he stab someone?” Eddy asked with a groan, heading back towards the kitchen.

“No, boss-” 

The kitchen was silent. The kitchen was never silent. It was a place of flames, banging pots and yelling. If Hornigold was back there (rarer and rarer these days) than it was even worse, with barks of ‘yes, chef!’ following his shouted order. 

No Hornigold today. But also no banging, no leaping cascades of fire. The rapid ‘clack clack clack’ of knives had fallen off. The entire staff seemed frozen, eyes glued to the floor. Eddy looked down and there was Izzy, sitting on an overturned bucket. Izzy who rarely let anyone touch him, had Ivan’s hand on his back, as he tried to draw in air. 

“Iz,” Eddy dropped into a squat, fear seizing her. Israel Hands didn’t sit during meal prep. He was a shark from 4pm until midnight, moving from spot to spot to ward off death.  

Izzy didn’t look up. His hands were planted to his knees and his breath was staggered. The hands were covered in furious red bumps. 

“Did he get burned?” Eddy demanded. 

“No, boss,” Blue Toby was looming over them. “All of a sudden he started wheezing.” 

“Ambulance is on it’s way,” Ivan provided. 

“Fuck,” Eddy closed their eyes, sucked in a breath than nodded sharply. “Ivan, stay on the phone. The rest of you, get the fuck back to work. Dinner service is still dinner service.  Iz...Izzy, can you hear me?” 

A slow faint nod. 

“Fang, tell Sam he's on front of house until I get this figured out.” 

“Yes, boss.” 

Industry sounds started up again, but not nearly as loud as usual. Ivan went on talking to the operator. 

Eddy put a hand over Izzy’s shoulder. Listened to the way his breath strained. 

“Don’t you dare die, you mother fucker,” She hissed. “I will dig you out of your grave and make sure you never have a moment’s peace if you die.” 

Izzy’s horribly broken out hand groped for hers. He held it tightly, eyes pressed closed. 

Eddy could hear her pulse in her ears.  

Cooking was not Eddy’s thing, really. Eating was fun though. When they’d been offered a gratis summer class on cooking at some underprivileged kids' bullshit school, Eddy had taken it figuring that at least there’d be some extra meals. It had been a condescending, terrible fucking experience, except for two things: 1. She’d met Hornigold, celebrity chef, who frequented the school to find young, cheap labor and 2. She’d met Izzy, who actually liked all the ridiculous classroom stuff and had attached himself to her like an angry limpet. 

It had only taken a two years of doing Hornigold’s bidding that Eddy realized that maybe only one of those two things had actually been good. Not that Eddy wasn’t fucking aces at her job. Restaurant management was made for her. Three years in, she ran the Ranger almost single-handedly. Hornigold’s flagship restaurant only turned profit because Eddy was at the helm. But it was miserable work. Hornigold would never unclench his fist fully around the place, swooping in to make a mess of what Eddy had finally cleaned up and taking them to task for things that no one could control for. 

No...no. The only goddamn thing worth having that she’d gotten out of that ridiculous class was Izzy.  Reliable, loyal, workaholic, Izzy, who turned all of Hornigold’s tired old recipes into something at least palatable. Izzy, who terrorized the kitchen staff into a peak efficiency, uncaring of what they said about him on smoke breaks.  Izzy, who no matter how late he’d been up the night before, was awake before Eddy and handing them coffee when they stumbled out of the bedroom. 

Her roommate, her partner, her sometimes fuck that once let her choke him in the pantry and he’d made such sweet sounds around her fingers. There were no moans today, no penetrating eye contact. Izzy was fighting for his breath against the world instead of her and that was fucking unacceptable. 

“Don’t die,” she ordered again and he squeezed her hand harder. 

“Back here!” Ivan guided in EMTs. Eddy was shoved back, but that never stopped them from staying where they needed to be. When they loaded Izzy into the ambulance, Eddy was right there beside him. 

The phone in their pocket was already buzzing with recriminations from Hornigold, some asshole probably tattled. Eddy didn’t give a single fuck. It was a restaurant, fully-staffed. Everyone would survive one night without peak service. 

Whatever they gave to Izzy in the ambulance seemed to start working. His breathing became a little less labored though nowhere close to normal. In the E.R., they get him laid out and an I.V. hooked up, but there were no rooms available, so they were just in the hallway. Eventually, Izzy groaned and sat up, head in hands. 

“What the fuck?” Eddy demanded of him, even as she rested her hand on the back of his head, brought in close enough to kiss his stupidly over gelled hair. 

“Peanut butter,” Izzy muttered. 

Eddy froze. They knew Izzy had some shit about nuts. He wouldn’t eat them. Wouldn’t cook with them either.  Seemed like one of his many weird twitches and Eddy had let it alone. What did she care if there were nuts on the menu?  But Hornigold had insisted that his latest ‘innovation’ (a dish he’d served twenty years ago and was hoping everyone had forgotten about) needed a dollop of peanut butter in it. 

Izzy hadn’t said a word as the instructions had been rattled off. But he had been wearing latex gloves all week. 

“Are you fucking allergic?” They bit off, furious they hadn’t realized before. 

“Yeah.” 

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Did,” Izzy’s voice was raw. “He didn’t give a shit. Hadn’t had a reaction in years, figured maybe I’d gotten over it.” 

“Well, you didn’t,” she growled. 

“Yeah,” Izzy agreed. “Noticed.” 

“Should’ve told me. I can’t do shit about what you haven’t told me.” 

“You had other things.” 

It had been a bitch of a week. Eddy had been furious for most of it. Izzy never minded their temper, seemed even to enjoy it sometimes, but he wouldn’t have brought them a problem when they were like that. 

“You could’ve died, moron,” Eddy snapped. “Then what would I do? Out half the rent and a head chef? I’d have to find like ten new people to replace you.” 

“Sorry.” 

“Fuck. Hornigold legit almost killed you because he doesn’t know how to spice a stew,” Eddy realized. “You probably had like three alternatives, right?” 

“Four,” Izzy agreed. 

“Shit.” 

It took some time, but eventually Eddy was allowed to take Izzy and his shiny new Epi-Pen home. The apartment was a disaster, usually was Tuesday through Sunday.  Mondays, Izzy would tidy and Eddy would do laundry for them both. Sometimes, if Eddy was lucky, those cleaning sessions would end in Izzy cooking something just for the two of them. Something new he’d thought of while churning out ancient classics of someone else’s cookbook that would be spectacular.

Tonight, Eddy ate cold mac and cheese from a box, watching Izzy sleep in her bed. She had steered him in here when they got home and he hadn’t asked a question, just kicked off his shoes and fallen against the sheets. 

It was one thing for Hornigold to treat Izzy like shit. Hornigold treated them all like shit. But it was another to almost kill the man. Izzy belonged to Eddy. No one got to take him from her. 

After they were done eating, they got into bed and curled around him, listening to him breathe.

“Eddy,” Izzy pushed at them. They startled awake. 

“What?” 

“I need to piss.” 

“Come back after,” she demanded. 

To their surprise, he did come back and let himself be reeled in close. They didn’t cuddle usually. They didn’t ever actually sleep together, but Eddy wasn’t letting him out of her sight if she could help it. 

“We have to get out of there,” she whispered in his ear and Izzy didn’t argue. 

It took two years. Two more painful years to scratch up what they needed, to do it quietly. To find the place, to shake money out of investors that weren’t keen on handing over cash to two people in their twenties with thin resumes. In the end, all they were able to secure was a hole -in-the-wall place in a rundown neighborhood. 

“It’s gorgeous,” Eddy determined. 

“It’s a shithole,” Izzy contended, but he was smiling. Not the feral one with too many teeth that some staffers saw right before they were fired. Just the real one that he got sometimes when Eddy complimented his food. 

“We’ll make it gorgeous,” Eddy allowed. 

“You will,” Izzy walked straight back into the kitchen with a pile of cleaning supplies and a gleam in his eye. 

It took weeks of elbow grease, and a clever manipulation of funds to get the place into opening shape. Eddy sourced tables and chairs from curbsides, bringing them back to clean and paint until everything was black, purple and blue. On a whim, she even painted the horrible linoleum flooring a matte black, sealing it in with satisfaction at 2 AM on weekday. 

“Huh,” Izzy had said as he stumbled in to find them slumped over a rescued table the next morning. 

“You like it?” She challenged. 

“Should do the ceiling too,” he offered. 

They did that. Strung fairy lights up over it so it glistened like the night sky. The walls got covered in bric-a-brac, paintings that Eddy found in Goodwill, seascapes where she could get them. 

And in the kitchen, Izzy built a menu like an architect, scaffolding up dishes. Eddy’s stomach had never been fuller as she happily tucked into his ‘failures’. 

“Need a name,” Eddy said one night as they both chewed through egg-free pasta noodles drenched in garlic, oil, and oregano. 

“Choose whatever,” Izzy gestured loosely with a fork. “You’re good at that shit.” 

“You’re the executive chef,” Eddy grinned. “Just call it Hands.” 

“Fuck that,” he snorted.  

“How about Nutless?” 

“Yeah, that’ll go over.” 

“Dizzy Izzy’s?” She suggested and then cackled as he threw a noodle at her head. 

In the end, the white on black lettering on the sign says ‘Freedom, a fine dining experience’ in Eddy’s own loopy and writing and underneath in Izzy’s spiky letters ‘nut-free, egg-free, soy-free, full of flavor’. 

Running a restaurant together, without Hornigold’s interference, was both easier and harder. Eddy had complete control, but there was also no one else to blame when things went wrong. Izzy stayed in the kitchen like someone had chained him to the stove, despite have a half-decent kitchen crew. He’d even gone back to the fucking horrible school and plucked a sous-chef from their ranks. Roach swore even more than Izzy, had a pathological attachment to his meat cleaver and made the world’s most gorgeous quiches. Thanks to Roach, they expanded into brunch service on the weekends. 

“You don’t have to go in,” Eddy would remind Izzy on Sundays. “Roach has it.” 

“Busy today,” was all Izzy would say and then disappear. 

The hookups in the pantry were off the table once it became their pantry and was no longer a rebellion, but a liability to the shelving. Nights in one of their beds fell off as they both came home too tired to do anything more than sleep. 

And Eddy....they found they didn’t miss it much. It was easier to be Izzy’s business partner than his life partner. 

So they didn’t talk about it and that part of their lives died on the vine. Withered up and went cold.

“I found a place,” Izzy told them, not making eye contact. They were eating their own dinners, hurriedly over the sink as the kitchen buzzed around them. It was one of Eddy’s favorites, seared scallops, which they rarely served. That should’ve made them suspicious. 

“What do you mean?” 

“To live,” Izzy stared harder at his place. “Closer to here.” 

“Iz...” 

“I can’t stay,” he muttered. “I can’t- we can do this. Here. But I can’t be in your space all the time if we’re not...” 

“Yeah,” Eddy choked. Fuck. “Yeah, okay.” 

**** 

Izzy hadn’t lived alone for more than a few days in his entire life. Gone from home to his shared apartment with Eddy. At first, he relished the quiet. The control. No one else's things cluttering up his precious few hours of free time. But it quickly dulled. He missed Eddy desperately some days, even when...maybe especially when, he was around them for hours anyway.  

If it hadn’t been for the restaurant, maybe Izzy wouldn’t have had the balls to go. Maybe he would’ve hung around the apartment for the rest of his life, waiting for Eddy to want him again. 

But there was Freedom. There was the kitchen where he ruled with an iron fist and could spend the day elbow deep in food prep. Yes, there was still Eddy swanning in and out, poking and teasing him while they made sure the money flowed in. 

And it did. Reviews came out and Izzy read them late at night, memorizing criticism and recalling it at horrible moments, but they were generally good. People liked the food, like the atmosphere Eddy had curated with their inane knick-knacks and charisma. They were good at being partners on the steady black floors of their tiny kingdom. 

So Izzy poured himself into the restaurant. They hired more staff. Oluwande, who was a good host, came with Jim, who wandered into the kitchen one night and never went back out on the floor again and Frenchie, who made divine pastries light as air. 

“Iz,” Eddy circled up around him one night, their eyes alight. “The place next store closed.” 

“The pharmacy or the antiques place?” Izzy glanced up. 

“Antiques,” Eddy reached down, plucked up one of the bits of beef  dancing around the pan that Izzy had been cooking. Izzy had given up even pretending to threaten them about that a long time ago. Eddy had asbestos fingers and no sense of kitchen hygiene, it just was what it was. Anyway, the appreciative noise she made when she had a bite of his food had always been his favorite compliment. 

“Good,” he determined. “Hated that dusty window display.” 

“Yeah, but...” Eddy hooked her chin over his shoulder. A few years of working together, living part had left her physically affectionate again and he never shook her off. “Iz. Next door.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Space, Iz. Two stoves.  More tables. The walk-in freezer I know you jerk off too.” 

Izzy’s eyes went wide, “We can’t afford it...can we?” 

“We can,” Eddy said delighted. “We fucking will.” 

It required meeting with some rich dude that owned the building, but Eddy came back from that meeting very merry and an agreement in hand. 

“You’d like him.” Eddy declared, then wrinkled her nose. “Actually you’d probably hate him, but I like him. Anyway, he gave us a sweetheart deal.” 

They had to close for an entire month which was heart-stopping, but Izzy didn’t have time to obsess over it because he was handed a sledgehammer. To cut costs, they did a lot of the labor themselves and it was like the beginning all over again. The whole staff pitched in and the wall came down. 

“What if we didn’t do the floors black?” Eddy floated as they stood between the two spaces, only the demarcation of paint to say where one had once started and the other began. 

Izzy crossed his arms over his chest. He loved the black floors, Eddy’s first tender foray into making their mark on their space. But whatever they chose it would still be Eddy’s. That’s what mattered. Eddy out front, facing the world, Izzy in the back, making it taste better. 

“Do what you want,” he said and it wasn’t dismissive. He hoped Eddy knew that. 

The way they caught his eye suggested that they did, so he left it there. He had a walk-in freezer to stock anyway.  

He didn’t count on the chandelier. 

“What the fuck?”

“It was Stede’s idea,” Eddy said gleefully from beneath the actually very tasteful fall of crystal. 

With a bigger space, they finally put in a decent size bar. It was made of mismatched reclaimed wood, homage to their now retired mismatched furniture. Eddy hired a bartender and then informed Izzy,

“No allergies, omnivore. He suggested if you guys did a tasting he could build out a cocktail menu to match. Told him you’re shit at wine pairings.”

“Thanks,” Izzy rolled his eyes. “Cocktails though?”

“People pay through the nose for specialty cocktails,” Eddy shrugged. “Stede knew the guy, says he’s good. Works rich people parties sometimes, apparently.”

“Great.” Izzy prepared himself to spend an hour listening to a pretentious peacock pick apart his menu. He made the tasting platter as perfect as he could because that’s just how he was and brought  it out to the bar at the appointed time. 

The guy was waiting, already seated at the bar and he was a knockout. Long legs in skinny jeans, shirt so wide necked it threatened to dip off one shoulder and a creamy bit of fabric wrapped around his neck. His hair looked intentionally mussed, a fucked out look that only came from gel.

“You Spriggs?” Izzy asked, pleased that it came out nearly normal. 

“That’s me. You must be Israel.”

“Izzy,” he corrected.

“Izzy,” Lucius repeated with a lingering look. “Lucius, please”

He set the tray on the bar. “Won’t all stay at the right temperature but I don’t have my staff in this early in the day to make as we go.”

“That’s fine,” Lucius studied the tray. “This is…this so beautiful. You didn’t have to make it…wow. Sorry I feel like I asked you to do a lot of work. I just needed some quick bites.”

“Eat with your eyes too,” Izzy did not flush. Absolutely not. 

“Yeah I’m devouring,” and that sounded lewd as hell. “Where do I start?”

“There’s the hummus,” Izzy pointed to it. “Has some heat if you mind that kind of thing.”

“I like a bit of spice.”  

Did everything this guy say sound like a double entendre?  Lucius dipped pita into the hummus and took a bite. Then he made a low, throaty noise that went straight to Izzy’s dick. 

“It’s so creamy! Holy shit, it’s like a mousse.” 

“Yeah,” Izzy said vaguely. “That’s the point.” 

“Wow, okay, and this is the eggplant stack thing, right? Gotta say I like that you don’t do any dippy names. Everything is what it says it is.”  Lucius took on the mouthful with another one of those noises. It took everything in Izzy not to turn around and look for a camera. This felt like a setup. 

“Never liked playing cute. Eddy tried it early on, but it didn’t sit right.” 

“Mhm,” Lucius picked up his glass of water and took a sip. “There’s another appetizer?” 

There were fifteen small plates on the tray. Three appetizers, ten entrees, two desserts. Tight menu for a tight space.

Izzy answered Lucius’ questions, watched him basically make out with each dish, and decided he didn’t care if he was being punked, his ego had never been this well stroked without any apparent agenda.  

Lucius licked the back of his dessert spoon, then asked, “Mind if I get behind the bar? I think better if I mix as I go. Kind of like sketching.” 

“Yeah, go ahead,” Izzy said roughly. “Sketching?” 

“Uh huh. Okay, so the vibe this gives me is like...summery? Which is pretty cool because you’re mostly using winter vegetables.” 

“Yes,” Izzy nodded.  “Mostly. The farmer we source things from grows some out of season things in a greenhouse, so it’s still fresh.” 

“Into that. So I’m thinking I can keep a base of four cocktails, then rotate two in seasonally to match what you do with the menu.” 

“How’d you know that we switch things out?” Izzy hadn’t told him that yet, figuring it was enough to work with the winter menu that they were currently dealing with. 

“I read some reviews,” Lucius admitted, taking down various bottles. “Got a favorite liquor?” 

“Vodka. I hope you didn’t read that twat from the Sun.” 

“Was that the guy who bitched about the ambiance? Came off pretty petty.” 

“It was,” Izzy said darkly. “He hit on Eddy and they turned him down. So.” 

“Oh ew,” Lucius wrinkled his nose. He dug out a shaker and shoveled ice into it. “Eddy get that a lot?” 

“Yeah, it happens.” 

“Stede is mega into them,” Lucius laughed. “I’ve known the guy for like two years? Never seen him like that. Twitterpated.” 

“Yeah,” Izzy shoved down the bile that threatened to rise. “What are you making?” 

“Mmm, not sure yet. Eddy said you hate wine.” 

“I do,” Izzy sighed, waiting for the judgment. 

“Me too,” Lucius snorted, plucking something off one of the small plates. “I never got what the big deal was, it all tastes the same to me. I thought chefs were required to like it though.” 

“It’s got its uses, but I don’t go looking for it. Didn’t go to one of the fancy cooking schools or anything, never ‘refined my palette’ whatever the fuck that means.” 

“Must not mean much because everything I just ate rocked my socks off,” Lucius grinned. “And I’m not just saying that. Like that lamb changed me on a deep level. I'll never be the same.” 

Izzy had made that lamb for Eddy, years ago. Just the two of them in the closed kitchen of Ranger after dinner service one night. It had been too busy for either of them to choke anything down. She’d leaned against the sink, pulled out a flask, and told him that it was the anniversary of her mother’s death. They’d shared the liquor and Eddy had slumped exhausted while Izzy tried his best to make a dish for heartbreak. There’d only been lamb left over, so he’d added all the warm spices that Eddy loved, layered it in tomatoes and carrots, cooking it all until it was tender.  

Eddy ate it without a word, but pressed so close to him that Izzy had to brace himself against the counter to keep from tipping over. 

He’d made it for them both on the regular after that night.   It was the only thing on the menu that had stayed the same from day one of Freedom. 

“Yeah?” Izzy choked.

“Uh huh,” Lucius picked up the shaker and gave it a vicious rattle. His hands were big, fingers almost circling the fat metal cylinder. “You already have a house red and white. Add a few more slightly more expensive options and that’ll be that.” 

“People like a long wine list.” 

“Fuck ‘em,” Lucius said merrily, then paused. “Should I not swear? Am I going to lose a job I’ve had for ten minutes?” 

“I don’t give a fuck,”  Izzy snorted.

“Great,” Lucius poured a clear drink into a martini glass, then searched the bar, coming up with a sad looking lime. He wrinkled his nose at it, but got a peeler and with a flick of the wrist had a perfect curly string of green that he set along the edge of the glass. Then he put it in front of Izzy. “Try that.” 

“Hmm,” Izzy picked it up and, by long habit, smelled it first.  It smelled mostly of lime and...basil? Could that be right? He took a small sip. It exploded over his tongue. Fresh and clean, not too sweet, but with a good edge of it and definitely alcoholic as hell.  

“Basil and lime vodka gimlet,” Lucius explained. “It’s not quite right, really need to let the basil sit for longer. Pair that with the lamb and it’ll cut the richness and compliment all the ginger and stuff. Right?” 

The question seemed in earnest, so Izzy took another sip and then dragged a finger through the remaining dregs of the lamb plate and sucked it off thoughtfully. Yeah it did do that, especially with the vodka keeping the drink warmer. 

“It works,” Izzy confirmed. “Keep that one.” 

“Yeah,” Lucius was watching him with such intent that Izzy wondered if he wanted him to say more. 

“It’s good," he allowed.

“Thanks,” a soft laugh as Lucius re-focused himself, “Okay,  probably want something gin based too. Gin is really hot right now.” 

They talked through the rest of the drinks, Lucius trying a few more things and Izzy approving all of them with only minor adjustments. By the end, Izzy was getting well into tipsy and was starting to suspect that Lucius might be flirting with him. Which was ridiculous. Probably just his way or whatever. Bartenders made good tips by being flirtatious, probably. 

“Should I send you the finalized list?” Lucius asked as he tidied up. 

“Just to Eddy. She’ll get it printed up.” 

“Do you have a graphic designer? I do that sometimes on the side." 

“Eddy question,” Izzy dismissed. 

“What’s an Izzy question then?”  

“Food stuff. Inventory stuff. Don’t give a fuck about the rest.” 

“Yeah? You don’t come out and shake hands?” 

“Hell no. If I wanted to talk to people, I wouldn’t have gone into cooking.” 

“Yeah, bet you hide in the kitchen at parties,” Lucius winked. “Me too. That’s where all the best people are.” 

Hard to argue that. A few minutes later Lucius had cleared out. Izzy cleaned up, then walked home. The smell of basil lingered in his nose until he fell asleep that night. 

Over the next few weeks, Izzy’s hunch about flirtatious bartenders was proven correct. Lucius wasn’t the fastest worker Izzy had ever seen (understatement, but that was Eddy’s problem), but everyone who sat at the bar didn’t seem to care. He flirted, he gently teased, sometimes less gently insulted everyone in the vicinity. Apparently, there was a boyfriend (of course there was) named Pete, who came in once a week like clockwork and sat at the bar, apparently not at all ruffled by the flirtations.  Not that Izzy got to witness any of that first hand, just got word from the waiters as they breezed in and out, and Eddy’s own tickled report. 

“I think he’s a fucking terror,” she confided as they shared one of their now rare cigarettes out back. 

“Yeah? We need to dump him?” 

“We run on terror. He fits right in,” they laughed. “Hey, we should do a thing for the re-opening.” 

“We’ve been open for a month,” Izzy pointed out, taking a drag and then passing it back to her.

“Gotta celebrate though. Maybe do a staff thing. Invite a few people. You know, music and whatever.” 

Izzy gave them the side-eye. “What’s this about?” 

“Celebrating,” Eddy said firmly. “We made it, Iz. Got to stop and enjoy that at some point or what are we even doing, you know?” 

Izzy didn’t know. Every day that he stepped into the kitchen and knew it was his was a goddamn celebration. But fine. Party it was. 

They were usually closed on Mondays, but Izzy came in at noon and made finger foods, set them up around the place, so no one would have to run back and forth to serve. When he brought out the last tray, he was surprised to see Lucius behind the bar. 

“Eddy mentioned what you’d be up to,” Lucius waved when he spotted him. “It’s smart. Figured I’d make some pitchers of things now. By the time those are gone, people will be happy with shots. Like we’re all definitely getting obliterated right?” 

“Most likely,” Izzy agreed. “Made things that won’t rip out your throat if you puke.” 

“How thoughtful,” Lucius grinned. “You’re a real gentleman.” 

“Take that back, motherfucker.” 

Lucius’ laugh was deep and rippled over Izzy’s skin.  “Sorry, chef. You’re a raging asshole.” 

“Damn right,” Izzy nodded. “My prep is done. You need anything?” 

“Want to show off your insane knife skills and do some orange slices? Thinner the better.” 

It wasn’t hard to slice them fine, nearly translucent. Lucius moved around him, to grab something at one point and reached out, gripping Izzy’s shoulder for just a second for balance. The touch seared through him. 

“You know I was kidding about the knife skills, but holy shit!” Lucius plucked up one of the slices. “That’s amazing.” 

“What’re you putting it in?” 

“Rum punch.” But that slice went right into Lucius’ mouth as he set down the glass. “Use up some of the fruit we’d have to toss otherwise and it tastes better the longer it sits.  If you didn’t go to culinary school, where’d you learn to cut like that?” 

“Worked in a fancy ass kitchen for a couple of years. Picked up things there. Rest is just time and practice.” 

“Guess you do practically live back there. Jim says you’re the last to leave, always there when they get in.” 

“There’s a lot to do,” he said vaguely. “You...settling in?” 

“Sure, it’s great here,” Lucius said with apparent sincerity. “Way better than catering gigs.” 

The back door opened, Jim and Oluwande’s voices spilling through the space and that was the end of any quiet. Everyone trickled in and the main room was soon heaving with staff, a few regulars, and some people Izzy wasn’t sure he’d ever met before. Eddy was presiding over all of it with an enormous smile that fully reached her eyes. Music poured out of the speakers and a cleared space in the middle of the room had enticed some people to dance. Or maybe that was Lucius’ punch. 

Izzy had had a glass or two, but stopped there, unwilling to unwind so much in that large a group. So he was the only one with a clear enough mind to notice someone knocking on the door. 

A tall guy with a shock of blond waves and a fancy suit was fidgeting a little outside.  Izzy opened the door reluctantly, 

“We’re closed. Private party.”

“Oh, you must be Iggy!” The guy said with a fumbling smile. 

“Izzy,” he corrected. 

“I’m Stede! Eddy invited me.” 

This was Stede? The guy that Eddy had mentioned like he was a mad genius? Izzy stared blankly at him, then took a step back to let him in. 

“Stede!” Eddy called out delightedly. “Come here and dance with me.” 

“Coming!” Stede’s face transformed with a brilliant smile. He left Izzy behind, still holding the door open like a fool. He locked it back up with a grimace. 

When he got close enough, he could see Eddy clinging to Stede in a messy attempt at ballroom dancing to a song that was far too fast while nearly crashing into Frenchie and his enormous friend.  For about a minute, Izzy watched them. Then he stalked off into the kitchen and gave some serious consideration to locking himself into the walk-in freezer and letting the night go where it would. 

Instead he poured himself a glass of water and drank it slowly.  The door creaked open just as he finished. Another body slipped inside and pressed back up against it, expelling a long breath. 

“You okay?” Lucius asked, stepping towards him. 

“Are you?” 

“Busy out there,” he shrugged. “And the best people hang out in the kitchen.” 

“Don’t have to keep me company.” 

“You ran away pretty fast. Did Stede say something stupid to you? He does that sometimes. His mouth and brain aren’t always sync up.” 

“No.” Izzy watched him warily. “Just done, I think. I don’t do parties.” 

“This is my shocked face,” Lucius said dryly and extended his hand. Izzy registered he was holding two glasses. “Take it.” 

“What is it?” 

“Just a vodka tonic. Well, I did put a little ginger simple syrup in it. You’ve got a thing for ginger, I noticed.” 

“...what?” Izzy took it and had a sip. The ginger was very present, sizzling pleasantly on his tongue. 

“I like that you don’t over use it, but it’s obviously your favorite. When you make staff dinner,  you use it when you’re in a good mood.” 

‘I don’t have good moods.” 

“Lies,” Lucius leaned against the counter next to him. “You know Eddy kind of threw this party for you?” 

“I know,” he took another sip. It was really fucking good, goddammit. 

“So...” 

“So what?” Izzy sighed. 

“Just saying. It’s your party and you can cry if you want to,” Lucius sing-songed. 

“Fuck off,” Izzy barked a laugh. “I’m not crying.” 

“But you’re not thrilled.” 

“Eddy and me...it’s old news. But it’s hard sometimes seeing them with someone else.” 

“Oh. Oh shit, really?” Lucius’ eyes went wide. “You and Eddy? But you guys are like siblings most of the time....or. Or old marrieds. Oh my fucking god, that makes so much more sense.” 

“We weren’t married,” Izzy denied. “And it’s not like that anymore. Hasn’t been for a long time. But yeah. Once.” 

“Fuck. You know she and Stede aren’t actually together.”

“Yet,” he said tiredly. 

“Yet,” Lucius conceded. “Are you guys going to like...implode or something? Because I was serious about liking this job.” 

“No. It was going to happen. Surprised it took this long. Eddy’s magic,” Izzy stared into the drink. He should be angrier, he realized. Or worse somehow. Certainly he shouldn’t be talking this way. Maybe Lucius’ could mix truth potions. “Been waiting for someone else to come along and notice.” 

“And you’ve been looking for someone?” Lucius asked like the question might detonate. 

“No.” 

“Why not?” 

“Freedom is what I want. I don’t have room for anything else.” 

“Yikes. I don’t think that’s true. Plenty of fish in the sea who wouldn’t mind swimming around a grim workaholic, you know.” 

“Endorsement like that, I should let you write my dating profile.” 

“Would you let me?” 

“Fuck no.” 

“Aw,” Lucius elbowed him. “C’mon, give me another chance. How about ‘talented and chiseled chef with a phone-sex hotline voice seeks flexible in the schedule and the bedroom partner’?” 

“Lucius...” 

“Oh! How about ‘killer forearms, wicked knife skills, and probably not a serial killer’?” 

“What?” Izzy blinked. “I’m not a serial killer.” 

“You have a lot of knives. Just saying.” 

“I’m a chef, we all have a lot of knives. You should...stop. Whatever this is.” 

“Having a conversation?” 

“I don’t need a consolation flirt or whatever you think you’re doing.” 

“It’s a pretty honest flirt,” Lucius said calmly.  

“I’m not...I don’t do that.” 

“Have fun?” 

“Flirt,” Izzy clung to the drink. “I don’t mess around. I don’t play.” 

“Okay, but I’m not playing.” Lucius turned, catching his gaze. “I’d go home with you if you asked.” 

“What about the boyfriend?” 

“What about him? We’re open. Pete knows I’m interested in you.” 

“We work together.” 

“We do,” Lucius agreed. “But Eddy is my boss, right?” 

“Technically.” Definitely. Izzy never messed with the front-facing staff just like Eddy never did shit about his people. 

“I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable,” Lucius even took a slight step back. “And if you tell me to fuck off, that’s fine. But I figured I’d let you know that I’m an interested and flexible fish.” 

Izzy backed off an insane desire to ask what kind of fish. That was an Eddy question, her voice loud in his ear right now. Mostly screaming ‘for the love god, man, jump on that’. But he spent a lot of time saying ‘no’ to the very real Eddy. He could certainly do the imaginary version for her. 

“Fine,” he took as sip of his drink. “You told me. Go back to the party and leave me alone.” 

For some reason, Lucius smiled like Izzy had offered him a compliment. 

“Leaving,” he said cheerily. 

It was only once he was actually gone that Izzy realized that he hadn’t actually rejected the interest. He should probably go fix that. Instead, he finished his drink, cleaned the glass, and walked back into the party. He didn’t join in the dancing, but he sat along the perimeter. Let Jim sit next to him and strike up a conversation about mushroom varieties that they got through with remarkable clarity considering they were clearly drunk as a skunk. 

After that night, two things started happening. 

The first was that Eddy actually took her day off. Used to be it was more of a theoretical thing where she’d wind up at the restaurant anyway, holed up in her office and working because she’d gotten bored at home. Now, he’d go in to ask her something and find the room empty. It was unsettling, but her general demeanor was unarguably better the rest of the week.  Like someone had re-lit the flame in her that he hadn’t noticed had gone out. 

The second was that Lucius started finding reasons to be in the kitchen. He wasn’t helping, wasn’t actually bartending for all that was his excuse (‘Ran out of cocktail onions!’ ‘Do you have any cinnamon sticks?’). He just seemed to buzz around for a few minutes, then go back out with whatever item he claimed to be fetching. When he used to say he didn’t need the staff dinner, he was suddenly hungry every night. 

Reasonably, Izzy should never be making staff dinner, a job for a more junior person, but reality was that he worked efficiently and his people were well-trained enough these days that it was easy to break for a few minutes and put together something for himself and the rest of them. 

“What happened to ‘I ate at home’?” Izzy demanded after the fourth day in a row that Lucius appeared to scoop up some bacon mac and cheese. 

“That was when I was under the impression that the staff meal was leftovers, not first dibs Izzy originals,” Lucius grabbed a fork and stabbed into his plate with vigor. “On catering jobs it was always like dried out and cold stuff.” 

“And you just suddenly realized that I wouldn’t feed anyone cold shit?” Izzy asked, affronted. 

“Eddy mentioned you were making those chicken wings the other night and it clicked,” Lucius made one of his obscene noises at the pasta. “I’m never eating a twinkie before work again.” 

“Those aren't actual food,” Izzy informed him. "They're barely edible."

“Yeah, but they are delicious. Not as good as this though. Fuck me running.” 

“He does burgers on Friday nights,” Jim informed him, edging Izzy out of the way to get their own dinner. “Onion jam.” 

“You can make onion jam.” Izzy contended. 

“It’s boring to make, good to eat,” Jim volleyed back.  

“I’m working this Friday,” Lucius said giddily. 

So now Izzy had to deal with Lucius invading his kitchen, and eating his food with lavish compliments and all his little sounds, almost every night. It was enough to drive a man to the brink.

“Are you complaining that he likes your food?” Eddy asked incredulously, when Izzy finally had to tell someone about it.  The dumpster out back absolutely reeked in the summer sun. 

“He makes sex noises at it!” 

“Yeah, some people do that out front. I never tell you about it because it’s fucking weird.” 

“Wait, really?” Izzy narrowed his eyes at them. 

“Yeah, man. Not a lot, but every few months or so. Didn’t figure Lucius for a moaner, but there you have it.” 

“I have a tall annoyance is what I have,” Izzy grumbled. 

“He’s just eating dinner.” 

“And talking to me. Asking questions. Being nosy.” 

“Like...he’s trying to get to know you?” Eddy’s lips twitched. “Be friendly? Oh no. Run, Iz, run.” 

“He told me he was interested in me,” Izzy confessed. 

“Oh, shit,” Eddy’s eyebrows flew up. “Is he bothering you or something?” 

“No, not like that. He just told me the night of the party.  Now he’s just chattering at me all the time.” 

“Uh huh. What are we complaining about?” Eddy rolled her eyes. “Hot cute guy propositions you. You say no. He pulls back, but tries to stay friendly because you work together?” 

“I maybe didn’t say no,” Izzy told the ground. Fuck, he should’ve grabbed the cigarettes before dragging Eddy out there. Would’ve been something to do with his hands. 

Eddy didn’t say anything and finally, Izzy looked up to find her staring at him. There was a wry twist to her mouth, something contemplative in her eyes. He waited her out until she finally said, 

“Plenty of reasons to say no, but....if you said yes, it’d be okay, you know that, right?” 

Because Eddy had Stede now. Or was close to having him. Or close to telling Izzy that she had him anyway. Eddy took days off now. Eddy whistled again while she did orders. Eddy wore lipstick sometimes in a way she hadn’t in years. 

“What if it isn’t? He’ll still work here.” 

“Then it’ll be awkward for a while. We’ve survived worse than awkward.” 

“It’s not appropriate.” 

“Since when has that stopped us? Hearing a lot of reasons for you to say no that have nothing to do with Lucius, so probably you want to say yes, huh?” 

“Shit.” 

“Time to put on your big boy pants,” Eddy slapped his shoulder. “Tell me how it goes!” 

“I will absolutely not.” 

The words don’t come to Izzy though. Partially because every time Lucius was in the kitchen, everyone else was there too. Partially because they were genuinely busy, news of their expanded dining area finally catching fire. 

One night, Lucius doesn’t come back for staff dinner. 

“Slammed out there!” Oluwande came in for his own serving. “You’d think we’re giving it away. I don’t think I can take more than five minutes, please tell me there’s a plate already.” 

Izzy handed it to him. If the tables were that busy, the bar would be packed in deep and Eddy was probably snowed under. Some of the waitstaff had passed around a cold and called out on top of that.  They all had to keep moving, but Izzy started to assemble something in his head.

Even as busy as he was, he could take up one burner on the stove, tossing in this and that and letting it cook low. It would keep as long as it needed to, would be better for sitting. After all, one of Lucius’ favorite ingredients was time. 

At ten, Lucius burst into the kitchen eyes wild. 

“Someone feed me,” he begged. “I almost gnawed off a customer’s arm.” 

“That’d be good for business,” Roach cackled. “At least put some garnish on it first.” 

“I’ve got a plate,” Izzy gestured him over and Lucius crossed to him quickly. “Just needs a minute.” 

“Might not have a minute,” Lucius told him mournfully. “I might die.” 

“You want pasta or not?” 

“Wait, the handmade stuff?” 

“What else do we have here?” 

He tossed the pasta into the waiting boiling water. No timer required, but the one that ran in his head. Drained it off, centered it on the plate, then carefully ladled the ragu over it. It was the perfect color, dark and rich. Perfect if you’d gone hungry for a few hours. 

“Here,” Izzy handed it over. “Go sit in the corner. We’re still winding down.” 

“Yeah, fine,” Lucius all, but grabbed it and got out of the way as the kitchen ticked onward into the last few plates. It was only when the very final one went out the door that Izzy turned back to the tiny table they kept crammed by the back door for breaks. Lucius was still eating, but he wasn’t looking at his food. He was looking at Izzy. 

With a deep breath and long exhalation. Izzy crossed over and sat in the other chair. 

“Oluwande said dinner was meatloaf tonight,” Lucius said quietly. 

“It was,” Izzy rubbed the back of his neck. 

“This isn’t meatloaf. This is...it’s fucking amazing. Why isn’t it on the menu?” 

“First time making it. Made ragu before, but not like this specifically,” he mumbled. 

“What makes it specific?” Lucius asked, twirling his fork through the noodles. 

“Heavy on the basil, used vodka instead of wine. Added some heat.” 

Lucius ate his next bite slowly, eyes never leaving Izzy’s face. He swallowed and finally said, “You made this for me. Specifically.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Because....” 

“Because I like to cook for someone. Specific. For one person, sometimes.” Izzy wished he’d thought of the words as carefully as the dish. 

“Why?” 

Izzy forced himself to meet Lucius’ eyes. They were beautiful, those warm pools of brown. There was no smile on his face, wry, playful or otherwise. Izzy sucked in a breath and summoned his courage, 

“So you’ll let me do it again for breakfast tomorrow morning.” 

“Chef,” Lucius reached across the table and took his hand. “I can’t think of anything I’d like more.” 

It had been a long time since Izzy served someone wearing only a knowing grin, but he thought he could easily get used to it again. Especially when the review came in the form of a long hot kiss, hand tangling in his hair and a return to the rumpled bed they’d barely managed to vacate. 

Eddy: you coming in today? 

Izzy: no, it’s my fucking day off, isn’t it?

Eddy: hell yeah it is. Details later. I

zzy: absolutely not.

#leda house and the kraken verse #ficlet #that's fic length #goblin king and the pup #bottle of red bottle of white

[yallemagne]

i do however think that jonathan eventually bonds with them (i mean, evidently so since he and mina name their child after all of them and i doubt he'd agree to that otherwise). of course he expects them to stay in touch with mina after the whole ordeal is over, she was everyone's favorite, no shit, but during that time jonathan himself would grow closer to everyone else too. both because he gets to interact with them in a non-vampire hunting constantly working life threatening scenario that does Not consume him wholly and prevent him from perceiving anyone around him, but also because they also realize that huh okay turns out jonathan has not been in his default setting this entire time and he's a completely likeable and approachable guy when he's not in intense murder work mode. plus they've been through like,,,severely traumatic events together so either way the whole group's just kinda glued to each other, even if jonathan never got full on chummy bud pal with them he knows that they're his people now, he's not just there as mina's husband.

i also like to think he'd have one of those Random Ass 3 am deep conversations slash therapy sessions slash bonding moments with quincey a little right before the end. but that's completely and unashamedly just because it makes the end Even sadder and i love to give my favorite characters pain. which would be even sadder considering all that because that would make quincey the first one out of the group that jonathan kind of warmed up to and felt connected to. and then like a day later he'd have to watch him d

im extremely sorry for this the anonymity of these asks gives me too many rambling tendencies and makes the angst gears turn.

OKAY. GOD. ONE DAY YOU GUYS ARE GONNA HAVE TO STOP ASKING QUESTIOns-- ᵒʰ ᵐʸ ᵍᵒᵈ ᵗʰᶦˢ ᵒⁿᵉ'ˢ ˢᵒ ˡᵒⁿᵍ

so the anonymity is the cause huh? hmmmmm

tiny callout "i doubt he'd agree to that otherwise" oh honey. Do you think he'd say no to Mina wanting to name their child (the one she birthed) after her best friends? Especially the friend who died to save her life just like he promised? I don't think Jono would deny her that, even if he never got closer to the others... ever.

Dunno how you'd have VH and Jonathan bond, and yet I wrote it into my fanfic. But well, that comfort scene required rewriting their entire meeting from the book. I had to change the focal point of the scene from being all about praising Mina in order to have these two interact on a greater-than-surface level. Yeah, I feel like this relationship's probably bunk in canon. "oh yeah, that's my wife's sexist adoptive father who actively endangered her life every chance he got. I still don't look him in the eyes come Christmas time."

Guys, the more you ask me about this the more aggressive against Van Helsing I get. I'm not trying to hate on him but you just keep reminding me he's a fucker.

I think there's potential for Jonathan and Arthur to develop a closer relationship post-novel. If Arthur's keeping to his word and being a proper brother to Mina, he's sure gonna be in both of their lives. They even got a headstart being stuck together on a boat. He's also just very weepy. It's so much easier to trust a man who allows himself to cry.

Meanwhile, if Jack stays at the asylum, I never see Jonathan opening up to him. Jonathan's a working middle-class man with sooo much baggage, confiding in a man who owns an asylum feels too much like selling yourself out to the cops. Jonathan gets to be a bit wary there. Who will defend him if Jack thinks he needs to be locked up? Mina, of course! But their team has gone against Mina in the past. Hopefully, Jack gets a new job.

Jonathan and Quincey having a heart-to-heart before they all split up... yeah sure. And I can even believe Jonathan not recording it if, say, during the conversation, he let slip that he did not intend to outlive Mina, no matter what needed to be done to prevent such an occurrence. But that comradery is taken to Quincey's grave.

There's also just the issue of what does Jonathan have in common with any of these men? 'Cause that's a big part of actively being friends with someone as opposed to acquaintances: shared interests and hobbies. What shared interests and hobbies do the Suitors have amongst themselves? Camping, hunting,,, gay sex. What do they share with Jonathan? Mina... maybe also gay sex but that's something you work UP to when you're trying to establish a long-lasting relationship.

Like, none of them like to write. And Jonathan is a poor city boy. His experience with roughing it out in the wilderness was very traumatic. I feel like if he ever does bond with the boys? It's gonna be hard. Really fucking hard on his mental state. Because he'll have to stretch himself thin doing stuff they're interested in and watching as they have fun together while he blends into the background. I know that because that's the story of my damn life. It's not enough to know rationally that people are trying to make you feel included because the very fact that it isn't working is enough to make you want to curl into a ball and ask to be sent home.

#am i projecting too much anger at VH onto Jonathan #of course i am- there's the door if that's an issue #update #people ask me things #jonathan harker #dracula daily #dracula

[biosurvive]

ily so write me a thing about Chris' reaction when Wesker pulls the hood back and Jill in revealed in RE5 8)

I love you MORE, and tysm for this random ask, even when you're not active bc you're a busy and talented DOCTOR you're still supporting me and it makes me :')

But anyways, that moment was monumental for Chris and the things he was feeling were conflicting, broad, and emotional. First and foremost he was relieved. For years he was being told that Jill was gone, but he never gave up hope, he never stopped looking. Taking jobs with the BSAA so he could pay his bills ( all the while missing Jill because she was his partner. ) but those payments also helped fund his never ending search, looking for every clue he could possibly find. It felt good to see her, even if he's confused, because he wasn't wrong, she was alive. He was right, he didn't listen to anyone who tried to tell him to give up, accept her death at face value.

All his visits and chats with her empty grave meant something, all the moments where he had a bad date or an argument with Claire and like muscle memory went to dial her number to make dinner plans only to stop because he remembered she was gone were worth it. She was alive. He was right. No one would ever tell him to not trust his instincts ever again.

After the relief came the worry. It doesn't take a genius to know something was off. She had already attacked Sheva and himself, her hair was blonde, and her eyes were so glazed over it was a little spooky. It's why he's immediately trying to gauge her memory ( trying to keep his voice steady ). He tries to reach her immediately. Looking into her eyes, using his voice, saying his name. All efforts to get her to remember him and their bond.

The first and final emotion is anger, though he doesn't really get the chance to yell at Wesker. The audacity that Wesker had Jill this entire time, the thought alone that he did anything to her puts him on the protective side. ( Special shout out to how softly he cradles her once she's free from the device. ) This is also why I have a hard time finding Chr!sker believable in ANY MANNER past Raccoon City ( though I have warmed up to adding it to my canon that Chris had something going on there for the extra spice ) Chris wouldn't fuck with this man after what he did to Jill. He just wouldn't, he immediately wants to bash the fucker's face in for even touching her with his grimy fingers. Especially since he probably remembers moments between the three of them laughing around the office, I have no doubt that Chris and Jill respected Wesker, that they considered him a friend. This betrayal somehow stings even more than the Mansion Incident.

Also special section for @bioresilient, and her Jill specifically. He also thinks of Claire. He wants to call her, he wants to tell her he found her. He wants to soothe the pain she had been feeling for the last few years. He wants to tell her she didn't lose someone else, he wants to tell her he found their family.

#i didn't want to make this too long but i could go on and on #TY RACHEL ILYSM FOR THIS #well ilysm in general #but YEAH FUYGDFGHJF #☆ i can't keep running away i have to face the truth ☆ (musings) #☆ trust is built through actions not words ☆ (jill)

[libertybri]

Fo4 companions realizing that soles ex partner was abusive through little hints and comments

*tw: mentions of abuse!

Companions-

Cait

She was livid upon finding out the truth of Sole’s dead spouse. To her, they were lucky they were dead now, otherwise they would have to deal with the fiery redhead and all of her hellbent rage set on protecting Sole. After all of her anger has passed, she is slightly upset, constantly passing around the words in her mind “how could anyone do that to Sole?” She would be set on just being close to her partner and making sure that sore subject of a spouse gets left behind in any future conversations.

Codsworth:

He already knew, unfortunately. Because Sole’s spouse had been the original programmer to Codsworth’s functions, he could never protect them from the damage their so-called lover had done. However, once he learns that the spouse is dead, he feels every right to curse their name for Sole and swear their full protection under him. He profusely apologizes for never being able to do so before and really never forgives himself, even if it was against his odds.

Curie

She pieced it together very early into their travels based on Sole’s behavior and disdain on the topic of their spouse. As a natural comforter, she would confront the issue with Sole and allow them to confide in her with any of their past trauma. She would become a personal vent for them whenever, being the perfect listener and overall, giving them kind and reassuring gestures to their comfort the entire time. Curie wants nothing more than for them to finally feel safe and at peace.

Danse

Once he realizes where Sole’s distant and strange behavior stems from, he is mostly just disappointed. He is upset that someone that is supposed to love the amazing person before him actually hurt them so much. He’s also upset that he wasn’t around then to stop it, or at least give their spouse a piece of his mind (maybe a good beating in turn, as well). From that point forward, he would try to be more sensitive to Sole and protect them twice as much as before.

Deacon

He pieced it together before meeting Sole upon watching them, their strange behavior and short responses of their spouse with a sour look always on their face. There wouldn’t be a reason for him to ever bring it up, making himself uncomfortable with just the thought of having that conversation, so unless Sole confided in him with that information he wouldn’t ever voice to them that he knew. With that being said, he would be more precautious with their well-being and even when having conversations with them, as to not be too insensitive.

Gage

He wouldn’t be able to figure it out unless Sole flat out told him so. Assuming they confide in him one day with this information, he would be absolutely enraged. If the fucker were still kicking he would have vowed to make them suffer for doing such a thing to Sole when they should have been devoting their life to them instead. He didn’t know much about love and marriage, but he knew damn well you never do that to a partner.

Hancock

Once he could piece together Sole’s strange behavior and disdain feelings towards their dead spouse, he felt nothing but rage. He wasn’t angry at Sole of course, but he was livid at the person who was supposed to love and cherish them the most actually being the one to hurt them. Hancock wouldn’t let them see his smile anytime someone brought up their abusive spouse, grinning because they were dead and could no longer harm Sole.

MacCready

Though Sole had never come out and told him, through every comment they made to flinching when he would lift his hand to adjust his hat, he understood what it all came back to. On one hand, it makes sense to him now why Sole wasn’t mourning their dead spouse as someone should and he was glad they weren’t just an apathetic freak. On the other, he wished he could march into that vault and spit at their ‘grave’ himself for doing such a thing to his kind Sole.

Nick

He knew from the moment they rescued him, their way of speech, their mannerisms; it was all too similar to cases he’s dealt with before and he had absolutely no tolerance for domestic abuse. He would immediately hate their spouse from before and secretly hope that the entire vault would just cave in on their resting spot. With all that said, he wouldn’t treat Sole any differently from another case, unless they told him about their spouse’s abuse, he then would take on the role of being their protective unit outside of the office.

Piper

She had picked up on it through hints in conversation and mentally noted every single detail to come to her conclusion. She would really just be upset. This person has already gone through so much trauma, and here the world is piling on so much more. Piper doesn’t bring it up with Sole personally, but constantly wishes she could take some of that trauma away from Sole, at least to give them some peace of mind. She believed they deserved it most out of anyone she knew.

Preston

While he could pick up on some details through their conversation and behavior, Preston couldn’t bring himself to make that conclusion about Sole’s spouse on his own assumption. He wasn’t sure if it was out of respect for Sole, or just because he didn’t want to believe it to be true. If they confided in him with the information, he would feel upset, frustrated, and disappointed. Preston would do everything in his power to make sure Sole felt comforted and safe after all of that.

X6-88

He knew through details Father had given him on his parents relationship. In his mind, he thought it was all in natural order for Sole to be the one to survive instead of their no-good spouse. He felt no need to ever bring it up with Sole, but always felt satisfaction in knowing that they were here and thriving while the other rotted away.

Extra NPCs-

Desdemona

She had no reaction on the surface, though deep down she was mad. Sole was one her most valued agents, and a valued friend to herself. She knew the kind of person they were and thought it was absolutely insane how anyone could hurt them in such a way.

Edward Deegan:

He felt the need to protect Sole. From what? He didn’t know. Just the sheer fact that someone who is supposed to love them actually hurt the amazing person he knows, hurts him. He wants to make sure that bad memory of a spouse stays in the past.

Glory

She felt rage. She wasn’t sure where to direct, whether to go down to that vault herself and take it out of their spouse’s corpse, or just punch something. But she was just angered at the thought of their spouse hurting Sole.

Jack Cabot

He felt pity for Sole. He wanted to comfort them and assure them that no more harm would come their way, as that part of their life was over with.

Magnolia

She immediately wanted to comfort Sole, whether it was sweet affirmations or taking them in her arms, she just wanted to make it known how much she cared for them and pitied their past.

Mags Black

She was confused on how a partner could do that. Of course raiders weren’t the most loving type, but they occasionally fulfilled relationships and most the time, even they didn’t take part in domestic abuse. That was just a foreign concept considering you don’t always get the chance to be happy with someone else.

Mason

He would care the least. Sole was a different person now. He thought they were weaker then, and he was glad they were stronger now. A part him thinks of how amusing it would be if their spouse could see them now.

Maxson

He was angry, absolutely fuming. He had no tolerance for domestic abuse and the fact that Sole had endured that in their past life and there was nothing he could do about it upset him greatly.

Nisha

She was shocked to say the least. On one hand, this was the Overboss- someone who is supposed to be feared, and the strongest person around- so she didn’t quite understand how they let their spouse do such a thing. On the other hand, she could realize that Sole was just in a bad situation at the time, and was an entirely different person too.

Sturges

He wishes he could have been around to give their spouse a piece of his mind. It was crazy to him how someone could hurt someone as kind as Sole, especially someone that was set on showing them nothing but love. The entire concept felt gross to him.

Tinker Tom

He assures Sole that no more harm could be done to them from their partner and offers great consolation, a person to vent to, and comfort if they were open to it. He overall just wanted to be there for them whenever they needed it.

Travis Miles:

He couldn’t quite see just how it was possible, not that he doubted them. Sole was just incredible, inside and out. They were one of the nicest people he’s ever met and really strong too. It was just crazy to him, and he wanted to make sure they knew their worth all of them time with reassurance and comfort from him.

William Black

He took pity on Sole. No matter their status as the Overboss, he could understand that they had a past life and was a completely different person than they are now. He wanted to make sure that their past stayed where it was.

#it got a bit lazy towards the end I’m so sorry #fallout #fallout 4 #fallout companions #fallout fandom #fallout fanfic #elder maxson #fallout 4 deacon #fallout 4 gage #fallout 4 porter gage #porter gage #fallout 4 maxson #fallout 4 danse #paladin danse #fo4 mason #fallout 4 hancock #nick valentine #fallout 4 nick valentine #fallout 4 maccready #maccready #fallout 4 piper #piper wright #fallout 4 cait #fallout 4 curie #fallout 4 preston #preston garvey #fallout 4 x6 88 #x6 88 #fallout 4 codsworth #codsworth

[thefanficmonster]

Partner

Ethan Winters (Resident Evil Biohazard) x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Spoilers for Resident Evil 8:Village, Swearing, Mentions of injury

Genre: Angsty Fluff, Comfort

Summary: Following the final battle in the Dimitrescu Castle, Ethan is surprised to stumble upon a person who witnessed the whole debacle, offering him a safe place to patch up his wounds and rest for a little while.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for your request! So sorry you’ve had to wait so long but here it finally is! Hope you come across it and enjoy reading it! Love, Vy ❤

“That was...something else.“ Ethan Winters mutters to himself as he limps his way out of the Dimitrescu Castle which is now vacant in terms of residence - his doing. He killed Alcina Dimitrescu and her daughters, all arguably in self defense and with little guilt to follow. However, plenty of trauma’s definitely attached to him following the horrific events he had to go through and the things he had to see between the walls of those luxurious rooms hiding dark secrets of the vampires who took pleasure in torturing people, and wreaking havoc over the villagers who feared them.

“At least they won’t hurt anyone any longer.“ He tells himself, giving the monster of a structure one final look before he continues back towards the center of the village where he’s gonna rethink what he’s got to do next, gather his bearings, take a breath and keep going. He has no other option but to keep going, he won’t allow himself to quit no matter what danger he faces. In his mind, he’s convinced himself that he’s already seen the worst, it’s easier on him that way, it suppresses the fear he’d feel otherwise. The last thing he wants is to think what’s in store for him ahead, he’d rather focus on what’s up to him to do next.

“And we can’t thank you enough.“

The sudden presence of an unfamiliar voice startles him, causing him to whip out his gun and point it in the direction it came from. However, he quickly finds his deadly tight grip loosening ever so slightly because he realizes he’s pointing the barrel at a very human-looking and seemingly harmless person.

“Who are you? Who’s ‘we’?“ Ethan still refuses to let his guard down though, just cause it may not be a life or death situation, doesn’t mean this person won’t bring him trouble and Lord knows that’s the last thing he needs right now.

On instinct, the person takes a step back, “I speak on the behalf of all the remaining villagers. I mean, it was only a matter of time before we too became victims in the Dimitrescu Castle basement. I was next, actually, but the commotion you created allowed for me to escape. I owe you my life, foreigner.“ The speak hurriedly and in a hushed tone, as if the fear of their torturers overhearing them still lives within them despite the monsters being deceased.

“Glad I could help you.“ He nods curtly, remaining at the distance of seven feet between them, “My name’s Ethan Winters by the way.“

They give him the tiniest of smiles, “Y/N L/N, pleased to meet you.” Their gaze gives him a quick onceover, assessing the damage the horrors of the castle have inflicted on him. Their eyes widen in shock at the many bleeding wounds all over his body but what appears to rattle them most is the severe injury that’s causing his limp as well as the missing finger - a poorly wrapped would that has surprisingly not started getting infected yet. “Look, I know you don’t trust me, but I don’t trust you to take care of yourself either. I live in that windmill over there in the outskirts, come with me, I’ll help you with...well, with all that. You seem rather hopeless at medical care.”

While he could refuse their offer, he wouldn’t be able to deny the fact that they’re right - he knows the basics of first aid, but his injuries are far too gone for simple first aid, especially when taken into account that he doesn’t even have any supplies. How he’s not died from blood loss is a surprise to him as much as it is to them.

“What’s my guarantee you won’t turn on me?“ He finally asks after a decent amount of time contemplating it.

They shrug, “You have none. But, you have the guarantee that if I turn on you, you’ll be the one coming out of that altercation alive.” Their gaze sizes up the guns he’s got on him, emphasizing their point.

Suddenly, Ethan feels sorta ridiculous - after all, guns or no guns, he could probably take on them easily with just his knife. Regardless, no one can blame him for being cautious. “Fine.“ He mutters, “But please don’t turn on me, I’ve already had one hell of a day.“

Y/N nods, motioning for him to follow them, “I promise I won’t.”

                                                               *  *  *

“Wow, what a back-stabber! Some friends you have, Winters.“ Y/N comments as they set down a cup of tea on the small wooden table in front of the freshly patched up Ethan.

Turns out, he made the right move by trusting them - they used to be the village’s main nurse until it all went to hell and they went to hide in the shadows of their windmill where they, as evidenced, still are today. That being said, not only did they have all the necessary equipment to fix him up, but they also had the skills and knowledge needed to use that equipment.

“There are those friends who borrow money from you and never pay you back and there are those who shoot your wife randomly while you two are trying to have dinner. Two types of friends out there really.“ He sighs, his tired, a thousand yard stare following the path of the steam levitating from the cup that’s been placed in front of him. “I have no time to dwell on that right now though. My daughter is in grave danger and I have no idea where I should even start looking for her.“

Y/N sits down on a chair opposite his, “Well, you’ve already defeated one of the village Lords looking for Rose, process of elimination should reveal where she is - wherever she is, it has to be one of the Lords’ residence. Mother Miranda trusted Lady Dimitrescu most so it’s a wonder why she wasn’t there, but then again, Heisenberg’s factory is damn near impenetrable, one cannot enter unless he wants them to so she could have entrusted her precious cargo to him.”

“How do I get to that fucker?“ Ethan tightens his hand into a fist, squeezing so tightly his knuckles turn white. There’s so much within him, so much that’s happened to him, so much in such a short amount of time and he’s had no time to deal with any of it. He’s a volcano waiting to erupt, but he has to do so at the right time - in front of the right danger to show he’s not hopeless or weak as his opponent may think. “Where do I find him?“

“He’s in the outskirts too just on the other side of the village.“ They sigh, regretting every word they are saying since they know they are just feeding him information on how to get himself in the worst kind of danger he’s probably ever been in. “That key you have, it’s not complete to access his quarters yet. By the looks of it...“ they observe the key Ethan has placed on the table, “You can only get to Lord Donna Beneviento’s estate, and I wouldn’t suggest heading there before you heal at least a bit more. Her and her dolls are a real nightmare. Of course, I haven’t experienced it for myself, but the stories are enough to get an idea.“

“So you’re telling me I have to waste my time with the little fish before I can finally get to Rose? You know how long that’ll take? You know how long she’ll have to be at the mercy of a fucking lunatic until I can finally save her?!“ Ethan snaps, banging his fist against the table, bad idea considering his hand’s been just patched up. The impact sends a jolt of pain up his arm that makes him hiss.

“I get it, I understand, Ethan. But you are a lot less likely to get to your daughter if you’re dead, you know.“ Y/N cautiously explains, their eyes narrowing a bit as they wait for the pearl white bandages to soak crimson, sighing in relief when they don’t. “Speaking of how likely you may or may not be to get to her on time, I’d also have to mention your odds would be significantly higher if you were to receive help from someone else. You’d need someone to have your back throughout all the shit you’re about to go through, especially Heisenberg’s factory where two eyes are not enough to track each and every threat that might pounce at you.“

Calmer now, Ethan gives them a puzzled look, “What are you suggesting?“

“I’m suggesting - well, I’m offering you my partnership.“ They explain, watching his expression change to one of knowing and understanding. “Of course, you’d have to give up one of those guns and hand it down to me, but I think that’s a small price to pay in exchange for an extra pair of eyes and limbs to guard and help you.“

Ethan’s first instinct is to decline. He can’t afford to see another person dying around him or because of him, he wouldn’t be able to stand it. But then again, just like he had no guarantee they wouldn’t turn on him, he has none that they’ll die. Of course, he’ll do everything in his power to keep them and himself alive and they don’t seem like they are in it to half-ass it either. Quite the contrary, they seem perfectly determined and ready to face the same shit he’s about to.

“What do you get in return?“ He asks, his gaze suspiciously measuring each line on their face to gauge their true intentions. He’s a complete stranger to them, they’d have no reason to be this selfless for him, it’s obvious they are aiming at something bigger.

Y/N scoffs, leaning back in their chair with a small bitter smile on their face, their gaze resting on the tabletop and avoiding his, “You really wanna know? I want my revenge - revenge for what they did to this village, to me, to so many people I cared about and to those I didn’t even know. But...” they trail off, pausing to sigh out a heavy sigh before continuing, “But I also wanna redeem myself. I knew I should’ve done all in my power to stop them when their havoc was still on the rise, I knew I should’ve done more, but I didn’t. And now I’ll die trying.”

“You won’t die.“ He says sharply, barely a second after the last word left their lips, “I won’t allow it.“ He adds, taking a bit of the edge off his voice.

Their eyes come up to meet his, searching for what he means, “Does that mean...“

“It sure does, partner.“ Within the blink of an eye, his pistol is on the table, fully loaded and free for their taking, “You just give a green light and we’re off.“

Y/N lets out a sound between a laugh and a gasp as their hands quickly wrap around the gun, looking at it in disbelief before whispering a quick ‘thank you’. Ethan allows them to marvel at it for a bit longer but they don’t wait another second. “Get your ass up, Winters. We have monsters to kill.”

He needn’t be told twice

#resident evil 8 #resident evil #resident evil heisenberg #resident evil village #resident evil 7 #re #re 8 #re village #karl #heisenberg #resident evil karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg #resident evil lady dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #ethan winters #ethan winters x reader #ethan winters imagine #rose winters #rosemary winters #mia winters #resident evil chris redfield #chris redfield #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #fandom #video game #video game fanfic #x reader #reader insert

[spiltscribbles]

Hi love!! I just took a look at the prompt lists u have linked and the prompt “you said what to your teacher?” sounds like it could be absolutely hilarious if u wanna write something for that!! <33333

Notes: OMFG HIYA DAN BABEYYYY!!!! Thank you SO SO much you absolute angel face!!! This was the first thing I tried writing and actually enjoyed and just wrote it all at once in the middle of the night dlkfsajlkgjasdofiewghklsdgj THANK YOU AND I LOVE YOU!!!!

.-

You Said What To Your Teacher? | Send Me A Prompt💜

.-

“Do you remember when we were nine and I gave you my last sparkler because Regulus was crying that he wanted your purple smoke bomb and I was left with only my shitty poppers to throw when the ball dropped on New Year’s.”

Sub half way to his mouth and mobile lodged between his shoulder and ear, Sirius gently sets down his sandwich and dabs off the splatter of mayonnaise on his cupids bow as he tries to parse out what in bloody hell his best friend is blabbering on about.

“Oh, hi, Jem. Yeah I’m doing well, mate, thanks for asking. Works the typical grind but I think Minnie is about to give me that promotion any day now.”

“It’s a simple yes, or no answer, arse.” James retorts haughtily, sounding somehow frenzied and buoyant all at once.

“Pardon me, I thought we would just have a normal conversation like typical blokes,” Sirius sniffs, tilting back on his chair and clicking around on his desktop to look at the revised dimensions of a new building his firm was employed to begin constructing in south London. “Now remind me, my sweet. Was this the same New Year’s that you stuffed that stink bomb in the back of my shirt after stomping on it so it’d explode on me?”

“That is neither here, nor there.”

“I still feel the debris on my poor back on especially rough days.”

“You’re a twat.”

“And you’re acting dodgy.”

“I need a favor, and I thought a transactional proposition would be the sort of thing that you corporate types would appreciate.” James jabs, laughter in his words. Sirius just hopes he could picture the middle finger he’s emulating through the line.

“Just because you’ve completed residency doesn’t make you a special snowflake, you do realize this, correct?” Sirius tells him, already shooting a message to Minerva and his team that he’ll be jetting off a bit earlier so he could do whatever it is that James needs.

“Slander! It makes me the most special snowflake, Black. And it eats you up inside.” James retorts, moving away from the receiver to yell something towards one of his interns about a patient or the other.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, gorgeous. Now are you going to ever tell me what it is you need from me, or keep trying to get in my trousers, because listen either option is aces on my end. I’ll just add it to the document I send Lily every week about how I’m so obviously your dream partner.”

“It always just comes back to your burning jealousy that I chose her over you, doesn’t it?” James pretends to sigh forlornly. “Listen, my love. It’s not my fault that some birds are just born prettier than others.”

“Psha, I’m the prettiest fucker you know, Potter.”

“It’s the attitude for me, just absolutely no decorum about you.”

“Is this about that snag with me teaching Haz how to properly curse at a United fan?” Sirius asks, moving to collect his satchel and jacket. “Because I stand by that. We’re a fucking Arsenal family, damn it.”

“We were at brunch when he called that poor woman a weasel faced toad, Sirius.”

“Good man,” Sirius insists, waving goodbye to the secretary who always gives him the most devoted heart eyes.

“Well, speaking of the sprog. I’m stuck here with a new bout of paperwork to get someone transported to us from a hospital in the states, and Lily’s stuck in the maternity ward till at least nine.”

“Ooo, a bit of God father/God son time then??”

“With great power, comes great responsibility,” James says gravely.

“What have I told you about your shitty nerd references and how they give me a rash.”

“Spider-man isn’t simply for nerds you absolute pleb! There’s been three bloody franchisements for him in the past two decades!”

“Imma let Harry eat ice cream for dessert, I reckon.”

“Then you’ll have Lily to answer to,” James warns, still seething from the jibe. “And if you’re taking the bike, can you at least park a block away. This new school we’ve enrolled him into this year is well and proper, and I’d not want them to think that our son’s God father is some sort of ne’er-do-well.”

“You put respect on Rosco’s name, or so help me!”

“Right, right, the only constant love in your life.”

“She’s the only one who understands me.”

“ Whatever, just try and behave decently, will you?”

“Hah, and why wouldn’t I?” Sirius asks as he tosses his helmet into the air, patting Rosco in apology for James’s impertinence.

“Hmm, we’ll see, won’t we.” James says in an irritatingly ominous tone before clicking off the line.

.-

There are a lot of reasons why Sirius could hate James. He could hate him for forcing Sirius to join him on his morning runs, or hate him for his intensely perky attitude about every sodding thing. Hell he could probably hate him for his complete disregard of the mad sport that is American football. But all that withstanding, Sirius reasons that for today he’ll hate him for his cryptic fucking warning and how he knew this would happen and is probably cackling over it as he fills out a new set of discharge papers.

That absolute, unceasing, weasel faced, toad.

The ‘this’ that Sirius is referring to of course is the fact that Sirius is left dumbstruck and gawping as he strolls leisurely into Harry’s third year class, eyes roaming over the small cluster of children who had stayed after hours for extra tutoring and who are now just lounging around, waiting for a guardian to come and pick them up. But instead of first spotting the dark head that belongs to his God son, Sirius’s gaze focusses on a man… A very fit, very golden, very beautiful man. A man that’s all lithe limbs and honey eyes, and a small, quietly encouraging smile as he kneels down to chat with a blonde girl who’s got on a blue tutu and rainbow poncho.

“Fuck you James Potter,” Sirius hisses lowly to himself as he tries to collect his wits about him, and remind himself that flirting with his God son’s actual, fucking professor is not a thing that is approved of.

“Uncle Pads!”

Sirius starts, feeling suddenly grounded as Harry bounds towards him and hugs his torso with a tight squeeze. “Hiya Prongslet,” he says, grinning indulgently as he ruffles a hand through Harry’s wild mop of curls.

“Am I coming to yours then?”

“If you’ll have me,” Sirius winks, tapping the bridge of his specs fondly.

“Brilliant! I’ll just tell Professor Lupin.”

Oh, that’s a very sexy name if Sirius does say so himself, though he tries not to marinate on the fact as he waits patiently while Harry leads that absolutely delicious looking man towards him. And God, the way he’s tipping back his head only slightly to meet Sirius’s gaze— It’s lewd.

“You’re Harry’s God father, yes?” Is the first thing Professor Lupin says to him, stretching out a hand that’s all long fingers stained by ink, and knobby knuckles that Sirius suddenly has the insane craving to nip at.

Jesus, he needs to get himself the fuck together.

“Ahem, yes, yes. I’m that. I’m Sirius I mean— Oh, my name, and erm— I’m also serious that I am his God father, that is a thing.” Sirius rambles, feeling like a complete idiot as he takes hold of Remus’s slender hand into his own, and shakes it with two, awkward pumps— holding onto it for a beat too long.

Sirius repeats, fuck James Potter.

“Right,” Professor Lupin says with something akin to amused. “Well he’s only got his maths to finish tonight, and a bit more reading for history.”

“Oh, good. I’ll definitely help with that. I’m great with numbers.”

“Wonderful,” Professor Lupin nods at him before peering down at Harry and grinning widely. “You did great today, just keep up with your novel for Professor Meadows and you’re splendid. Yeah?”

“Thank you Professor Lupin,” Harry preens, chest puffed out not unlike how James had used to do back in their school days every time they won a footie match.

“Nice meeting you Mr— ah?”

“Black!” Sirius quickly offers, straightening up immediately like a rose bud stretching towards the sun. “Sirius Black.”

The corner of Professor Lupin’s mouth twitches up, and Sirius is struck with the searing need to see the full force of his smile directed towards him— and also to snog it right off. “Remus Lupin, just to make things even.”

And fuck.

Sirius swears— hand on his chest and face to God— that it was a flirtatious inflection that Professor Lupin— Remus— used right then, but before he can even have the chance to toy around with the development, a mother in yoga pants and Starbucks strolls in and Remus walks over to greet her hello, and before Sirius knows it, Harry’s tugging on his hand and dragging him out the room.

Damn it.

.-

Despite his total and complete fail of a first meeting with Harry’s sickeningly attractive professor, the rest of the night turns out to go as perfectly as planned. Otherwise known as them stuffing themselves with greasy pizza, and heaps of ice cream, and staying up an hour past Harry’s typical bed time to play Far Cry instead. And if Sirius contemplates asking him more about this elusive Remus Lupin, he bites down the urge and concentrates on sticking his spoon onto his nose before Harry could beat him in their match.

It’s totally fine.

That is until it’s six o’clock in the ruddy morning and he’s woken up by the loud knocking of his front door, only to be met by the grossly chipper faces of Lily and James— that sort of glow is only a thing that happens after a good shag, and Sirius knows that for fact.

“We brought pasties,” Lily tells him as she sashays indoors, red main of hair billowing in the late autumnal breeze and her voice ringing out like she’s some sort of radio show host.

“How was last night?” James asks him as he toes off his boots and follows Lily to the kitchen.

“Fine,” Sirius gripes, still pissy from James’s cruel joke. “Haz is always great.”

“Mmm, I hope Remus didn’t give you any trouble picking him up, you’re on the paperwork and everything but it’s the first time he ever met you and all.” Lily says, faux lightly as she picks out the plates and turns on the electric kettle.

“You knew!” Sirius accuses emphatically, pointing a heated finger her way and then directing it towards James.

“Knew that he is exactly your type?”

“And that you’d look like a tosser talking to him for the first time,” Lily tacks on, giggling.

“Fuck you, and fuck your weird, married telepathy!”

“Nah, not telepathy mate,” James assures, clapping him on the shoulder. “You’re just incredibly predictable.”

“We’d have to be thick not to know that you’d be a total idiot around him— You’re the worst whenever you have to talk to pretty people who you actually want to do more than just screw.”

Sirius feels himself go scarlet. “That is an attack on my person, Evans!”

“Yes, dear. I know.” Lily croons, patting him on the cheek like a doting grandmother. “But does it help that I think you should totally go for it.”

“Lily! He’s our son’s teacher!”

“Only for this year,” Lily shrugs, sitting on a stool that lines the island. “Besides, I really like Remus. We have the same cycling class and he taught me how to make my face into an emoji like I’m a Kardashian.”

“You guys talk about’m like he’s the second coming of Christ,” James harrumphs, doling out their mugs with a scowl.

“He’s just so pretty,” Sirius sighs, beyond dejected. “Did you see that little birthmark on his cheek that looks like a butterfly! And Jesus, his eyes are like a third of his face!”

“Don’t forget how well he fills out those trousers for such a skinny bloke,” Lily adds, mixing the honey into the tea that James had just poured her.

“I alas did not get a chance to give his ass the appraisal it warrants,” Sirius bemoans.

“I very much do not like the idea that my best friend and wife are thirsting over the same bloke.” James sniffs.

“Jealous, lover,” Lily leers, laughing at how James wrinkles his nose at them and kisses his cheek in reassurance. But Sirius doesn’t pay them any of his attention, is too distracted by painting the picture of Remus in his mind’s eye, and how he really does need a second look if he loves himself at all.

“He’s like those caramel lollypops from when we were kids,” he tells them unceremoniously. “But instead of that tart middle, he’s just sweetness through the center.”

“You want to lick him, huh?” Lily asks, smirking at him with a lecherous air.

“I want to lick him until he goes mad and begs me to just flip’m over and—“

“Enough!” James quickly cuts in with a smack of the hand against the countertop. “This man is Harry’s professor, I can’t have these sort of images of him while I go to pick him up after class.”

Sirius jerks forwards, beyond excited. “Then let me pick up Haz from school today, yeah? It’ll give me a chance to speak with Remus!”

“Why do you want to talk to Mr Lupin?”

The three adults turn around at once, met by the image of Harry in the spare uniform he keeps at Sirius’s house— hair sleep rumpled and specs askew.

“Hallo my beautiful boy,” Lily grins, her and James each kissing his cheek and giving his shoulders a squeeze as he sits between them.

“Why do you want to talk to Professor Lupin, Uncle Sirius.” Harry asks again, earnestly as he tares apart his cheese and veggie pasty. “Do you like him?”

“Oh, erm—“ Sirius feels his insides squirm, not sure where to step, afraid that his God son might not appreciate the fact that Sirius’s already planning out a reception party for his impending nuptials with Remus.

“I think it’d be cool if you did.”

And in an instant, Sirius feels his shoulders loosen and his smile go elastic. God he loves this kid. “yeah?”

“Mhmm,” Harry nods, taking a sip of his water to clear his throat. “Ron told me that Professor Lupin use to be married to his Uncle Fabs and then they broke up last year, so I bet he’s sad now. And you’re the best person on the planet and you always have fun! You should make him happy again.”

Sirius’s heart seizes, suddenly needing to be the person to help Remus with anything he could ever need.

“You’re a diamond kiddo, you know that?” Sirius says, standing up to lift his eight year old God son into the air and blowing a raspberry to his cheek. “Shove it to your dad, you’ll be my best man at the wedding, yeah?”

“Imma need to start smoking if he’s gonna be this much of a prat all the time now,” James mutters lowly, making it so Lily crows with laughter.

.-

That afternoon finds Sirius parked back outside Harry’s school, straightening the collar of his jacket and combing a hand through his hair. Though once he steps into the nearly emptied classroom, he’s still slack jawed when Remus looks over his shoulder towards the door and grins at him in such a glimmering sort of way, that it punches Sirius in the fucking solar plexus!

“Mr Black, twice in one week?”

“Hah— Yeah.” Sirius hopes his smile comes out more gentle than a grimace. “It’s not far from my work, actually. So I guess I’ll be around more often.” In fact, the drive is a good twenty minutes from his office, but Sirius doesn’t think that’s really relevant.

“Lucky us.” Remus retorts, looking up and down his frame with a slow, languid sort of gaze that makes Sirius feel filleted right open. “Well I can’t wait to get to know you better.”

“You can know whatever you want,” Sirius practically sputters, wonders if he should try and act cool, especially now that Harry’s wandered over towards them.

“Is that an open offer?” Remus asks, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth and lying back leisurely against his desk.

“Yes. Yes, absolutely.”

Remus’s beautiful face goes absolutely incandescent right then. “Good.”

“Good,” Sirius repeats, completely devout.

“Oh, before you go,” Remus says, pointer finger raised to freeze them while his other hand fishes into a drawer of his desk. “It’s not a caramel pop, but at least the Tutsi ones are sweet all the way through.”

Sirius feels his jaw completely drop while Remus gently places the stick of the treat into his open hand, tossing him a quick wink before walking off to chat with a new parent who had wandered in.

“Harry— You said what to your teacher.”

“That you said he looked like a caramel pop,” Harry answers, totally owlish and unconcerned.

Sirius contemplates drowning into the lake, but then decides that this is a game he will not lose against Remus.

“All right, Prongslet. Let’s grab us some chocolate eggs and you can tell me everything you know about your dear Professor.”

“Okay, Uncle Pads,” Harry beams.

.-

~My Wolfstar FIC Masterlist💜

#WOLFSTAR #REMUS LUPIN #SIRIUS BLACK #WOLFSTAR FLUFF #SIRIUSXREMUS #REMUSXSIRIUS #THE HARRY POTTER SERIES #MARAUDERS #HARRY POTTER SERIES #spilt ink

[artistsfuneral]

Aaaaaaah I didn't realize, happy belated birthday 🎉🥰 hope you can properly celebrate with your friends sometime soon 🥳

Can I ask for 9 + 21 with Lambden for the prompts? I'd love a modern AU setting but do whatever you want with it if you do end up writing it, I just love the ideas you come up with 😊

Thank you! And don't worry I didn't... hang it on the big bell (wtd is the english proverb for that?!) Thankfully me and my friends can still video call, so it's not that bad. 💐🥰

9. “I loved them more than my own life.”

21. “How much of that did you hear?”

this would be the superhero au no one has asked for, but it would also be 50k and... yeah nobody got time for that, so I humbly present you a 50k fic in bullet points

---

The whole thing starts with a chapter, where Lambert is sitting on a bench in a graveyard, quietly talking to himself. Turns out he's sitting in front of Aiden's grave and tells him about his day, what he and Ciri did last weekend, what he's going to cook for dinner that day, that he's planning on going on a short vacation and that he will bring Aiden pictures and postcards when he comes back. The whole thing is very sad and it's supposed to establish that Lambert isn't doing that great, but tries his best to move on.

When he finally falls silent because he doesn't have anything to talk about anymore, this old lady makes her way across the path and sits down next to him, her husband's grave is close to Aiden's and she frequently sees Lambert. She and Lambert talk a bit, it goes along the lines of: “Does it ever get better?” - “I don't really think so, but it's worth trying.” - “They wouldn't like seeing us this sad.” kind of reflecting the difference between this old senior lady who's husband died many years ago after they had a long life together and Lambert, who lost his boyfriend/fiancée six months ago, after being together for only a couple of years. The kind of “It will never be easy to go through this, but it that's alright” talk.

The first chapter ends with the old lady saying “You must have loved him very much.” and Lambert answering “More than my own life.” And they sit there in silence.

The next chapter starts with Lambert coming home to his apartment with two loaded grocery bags. He can't stand the silence and quickly puts on some music, one of Aiden's favorite playlists, again showing that he can't move on and begins to put away the groceries. When he wants to start making dinner though, he gets a message from Geralt, saying that there's an attack in downtown and that he has to suit up. That's how we find out that Lambert is a superhero (Avengers level) and has no self regard when it comes to his own needs, because instead of eating something before going, he quickly puts on his suit. I kind of imagine Lambert to be very similar to Clint Barton, Hawkeye. So like; bow and arrow, lots of explosives and sarcasm, pretty acrobatic, but probably not wearing purple.

Before he goes, he makes sure that the water and food bowl in the kitchen are filled, pulling out a new cat toy from one of the drawers and throws it in the general direction of the living room. Aiden's cat, a feral little fuck that hates everyone but Aiden, marches over to the toy, hisses at Lambert and disappears with the mouse. Lambert says something along the lines of “love you too, you lil fucker” and jumps out of the window. (He doesn't really care if people know where he lives, because who's stupid enough to try and break into a supermutant's apartment? But he won't use the door, because that just looks lame)

Because heavens know, I can't write extraordinary fight scenes, the next chapter would start with a news report of what the hell is going on. It is revealed that the school of the cat (insert cool villain team name here), who's members once were superheros but turned out evil, has started an ambush downtown (probably trying to steal something from a secret lab so that they can use it for their own plans etc.) and there are panicked people, explosions, maybe add some robots or give them elemental magic or something. Either way it's a long and difficult fight and every now and then you can see one of the wolves (insert hero group name here) gets thrown around or bashed against a building – the usual.

Then there's a scene cut, and we're back with Lambert, who's in the elevator of his apartment going back up and home. And he's holding his left side, because he's hurt and bleeding and he's really, really tired, but that's just how it is. And because Lambert is so good at taking care of himself, he shuts off his phone to ignore Eskel and Geralt's messages, goes home and just flops down on the floor in his living room. He passes out fast.

Yet again, Lambert is not really doing well in life. I'm fairly sure he has reached that point, where he just doesn't care anymore and it shows. This is also the chapter where a lot of the background information would be hidden in. Like where did Lambert and Aiden meet? How did they fall in love, what was it like being superheros in two different teams? And during the earlier fight scene you'd also be able to see the impact Aiden's death had on the way Lambert fights against the cats. He's, understandably, terribly angry at every single cat. Geralt and Eskel probably scold him every now and then to keep his cool and don't overdo it etc. but Lambert just can't listen to them. No one really nows what happened to Aiden since his body was never found, but there's enough proof how he died and the living cats find it absolutely hilarious to go around, declaring that he's dead (knowing how much that hurt Lambert).

So when Lambert wakes up again, for a long time he just doesn't move, doesn't want to. But then he notices that he's in bed and not on the floor anymore, that his side is bandaged and that someone had placed a water glass and some painkillers on his bedside table. When he concentrates, he can hear someone in the kitchen and the smell of food and coffee slowly raises him from bed. He's full on ready to berate Geralt or Eskel or even Vesemir about entering his apartment and patronizing him, but he stops dead in his tracks when he sees Aiden. And he immediately knows that it's him, even though his glorious long hair is shaved and he's missing an arm and he looks so thin and breakable. Lambert knows it's Aiden because of the way the plates are set on the table, because his favorite cooking-song is playing, because the eggs are on the right side of the pan and the bacon is on the left, because of the cat that is sitting on Aiden's shoulder, loudly purring and kneading at his T-shirt.

And then he turns around and it is Aiden and Lambert starts crying and falls to the floor and sobs and Aiden hugs him as good as he can with one arm and Lambert is yelling and sobbing and clawing at his back and it's so, so so much at once. But Aiden is alive and he's back and that's all that matters.

After hundreds of apologizes, there's still so much explaining to do and Aiden carefully tells him, how he found out about the cats going bad, how he tried to stop them and how they turned against him, fought him. He tells Lambert about him nearly dying and that it was Geaten who got him out of there, barely alive and that they couldn't go to Lambert straight away and then Aiden had to go under surgery and physical therapy and and and-

It's a lot but they make it work. With Aiden's insight the wolves can take the cats down and Lambert and Aiden can go on that vacation together.

.

from this prompt list

#the witcher #artistsfuneral about the witcher #lambden #superhero au #lambert x aiden #lambert #witcher aiden #ask answered #ask game #modern au

[g-on-ef]

Hey if you’re still doing that 50 cliches and prompts, perhaps we can get a crumb of #23 for Blitzo x Striker? 👉👈

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A\N: Nonnie you ask for crumbs and I'll give you the whole bread ^^ also if you guys want send me some Striker x Blitz prompts of your own or one from this list ^^

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#23: “Just tell why you did it!” “Because I’m in love with you, okay!”

Striker was fighting to remain conscious, the past thirty minutes have not been kind to him...especially with the bitch Stella trying to get back at him for shooting her.

Earlier today Striker got a call from Stella to come to her as she had a new plan that she wanted Striker to carry out, a plan that could finally break Stolas.

When he came to her palace Stella told him her plan.

“Why kill the cheater when you can break his spirit,”

“Don’t you already do that every time he’s reminded that he’s marry to you?”

Stella glared at the imp, the one thing she hated about him is his mouth and his constant snide remarks.

“I will ignore what you just said, now onto the plan, the best way to get back at Stolas is to kill the most important person to him in all of Hell,”

“Octavia?”

“Touch her and I will kill you myself,”

“Well you did said you don’t care who I have to go through to kill him so technically-”

Her hand slammed on the desk she was sitting behind.

“Touch my daughter and I will put you through such agony that’ll make Lucifer himself coward in fear,”

Striker bit his tongue, he knew when he had pushed his luck and he could see he was pushing the last of Stella’s buttons.

“No the one I want you to kill is the piece of shit that ruined everything, the thing that Stolas continues to see, I want you to kill Blitzo,”

The minute that name slipped out of her mouth Striker did not hesitate to take his blessed tip revolver and shoot her with it.

Her guard was down so she didn’t have the time to move until it was to late, the gun hit her right in the torso going right through her, paralyzing her.

“Ahh!” she shouted, Striker was getting ready to shot her again when the door open and someone grabbed him or try to.

Striker was able to handle the bodyguards that came in, being a wrath imp mixed with Lilith’s bloodline gave him enough strength to beat the shit outta the guards...but not enough to defend himself from Stella who had her own gun and shot him, her aim wasn’t good so all she was able to do was shoot his shoulder.

Striker screamed as he felt the pain, before he could do anything, one Stella’s guards pulled out an angel weapon and stabbed him with it.

The pain was the unbearable, falling to his knees his attacker began to stab his back making the assassin scream.

“Stop!”

The attacker turned to his queen.

“Taking him to the dungeon, I will deal with him there,”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Striker held Blitz closer to his body, he’s never been this gentle with someone before. Never took his time with someone and enjoyed their body.

Never appreciated every sound his partner made or the expressions they made whenever he was pleasuring them.

Normally he would fuck them as fast as he could and leave, with Blitz he couldn’t do that.

The past three nights have been amazing, ordinarily Striker didn’t do this he didn’t try to get to know people, hell he tried to keep them as far away from him as possible, especially if he was gonna go through with his plans he couldn’t afford to have any weaknesses, nothing the overlords or royals can use against him.

And yet here he was, pleasuring Blitz, slowly moving in and out of him.

The feeling of his walls around his cock made Striker groan in pleasure, he took in every moan, whimper, whatever sound came out of Blitz he listen to it and tried to engraved it into his memory, knowing this will be the last time they ever get to be like this.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

He opened his eyes and watched as Stella glared at him, her servants pushed her around in her wheelchair as she stared at him with such hatred that Striker was surprised that the bitch didn’t have the ability to turn him to stone or kill him with her glare.

“Why the fuck are you protecting him?! He chose my good for nothing piece of shit of a husband and you still protect him?! He doesn’t care about you!”

Striker stared at her, he knew what she was trying to do, his sperm donor always told him people would say anything to hurt you so if they aim low than you aim lower.

“It pisses you off doesn’t,”

Stella glared at him before Striker continued,

“That one lowly imp managed to capture not one but two powerful beings attention, your husband and me, Lilith’s bastard. One tiny lowly imp has two of your puppets wrapped around his finger. Someone who’s supposed to be superior than imps, and yet every dick that you want to be fucked by is either getting fucked or fucking the imp that you hate,”

Stella’s cool facade fell as she lifted her fist and punched his stomach, the punch shouldn’t have hurt but because Stella’s rings were made of angel weapons it definitely was going to leave a mark.

“Kill him, make sure he doesn’t make it out of this alive!”

Striker closed his eyes ready to accept death and Her embrace, the last memory he had was the last night he and Blitz made love to one another, the night were Blitz and he curled around each other silently promising each other a piece of their heart to one another.

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When he opened his eyes he was met with a bright light he blinked trying to clear the bluriness of his vision.

“Am I dead?”

“No but you’re gonna wish you were when I am done with you,”

Striker turned his head to the voice that sound awfully like Blitz’s.

Oh, it is Blitz and he was angry.

“Uhh...hi?”

“Hi! HI?! You’re ass has been lying in this bed for the past 22 hours we almost lost you and all you have to say is HI? YOU FUCKING DICK!”

Striker lifted himself up and watched as Blitz continued to glare at him.

“Do you have any fucking idea how scared I was! Fuck if it weren’t for the mating bite and Lady Lilith helping us we wouldn’t have saved you!”

Oh...right...he forgot that he gave Blitz a mating bite.

“Blitz-”

“Do you have any idea what was going through my mind when I felt your pain? What I was feeling when I heard your screams?!”

The city imp got up from the chair he was sitting on,

“I almost lost you! I almost lost the first person to show me respect, to remind me what it was like to be loved and all you have to fucking say is hi!”

Striker looked at Blitz who was crying now,

Striker grabbed Blitz and pulled him on his lap as the city imp cried into his chest.

“Lady Lilith told me, told me that bitch tortured you because she wanted me dead! Why didn’t you tell her about me?! Why didn’t you just tell her where I was at so that she could’ve let you go?!”

Hearing that made Striker growled.

“You fucker you really think I would let her hurt you?!” he pulled back and grabbed the imp by his shoulders.

“I’ll die before I’ll let anyone touch you!”

“Don’t fucking say that! You almost die because of me!”

“And I’ll do it again if I have to!”

Blitz was getting mad, he didn’t want Striker to die because of him hell he didn’t want Striker to waste his time with someone like him, he deserved better and yet Striker nearly died because of him, and here he was telling him he would do it again without hesitations.

“FUCK! Why?! Just tell me why the fuck would you do that?! Why would you sacrifice yourself for me?!”

“Because I’m in love with you!”

Striker’s eyes widen as did Blitz’s. Fuck that was not supposed to come out of his mouth, hell he was never supposed to tell Blitz that he loved him, that was a secret he was going to take to his grave and yet...and yet he didn’t regret saying, he didn’t regret telling Blitz the truth, his city imp deserved to hear those words.

“You...you dickwad no you don’t! You don’t love me! You can’t!”

Blitz curled in on himself not sure if he could believe what Striker was saying. He couldn’t be in love with him...right?

Striker wasn’t surprised that Blitz didn’t believed him, from the time they spent together Striker knew that Blitz had low self esteem and when Striker listened to him he thought he was playing with him but was surprised to learn that Striker genuinely cared for what he had to say, that he paid attention and wanted to learn more about him.

He had to tell him he meant it when he wanted to know more about Blitz even when he didn’t believe him.

“I’m in love with you,” he took Blitz’s face in his hands and place a kiss on his forehead, cheeks, the scars on his face.

“I love you Blitz, I’ve been in love with you since I heard about you,”

Blitz looked at him, before wrapped his arms around Striker’s neck and kissed him. the cowboy and the city imp kissed as if it would’ve been their last day in hell.

In a way it almost was, Striker thanked  La Santa Muerte , for watching over him and making sure he returned to the one he loved.

Blitz was thankful towards Satan that Striker was alive and that he was here with him, the two pulled back for some much needed air, Blitz rested his head on Striker’s chest wanting to listen to his favorite sound in Hell. Striker’s heart beat.

“Promise me, promise me that you’ll stay by my side forever,”

“I promise you forever Blitz, when time wants to tear us apart I’ll stay by you, I promise you always; never will I wander from you never will I leave you; I promise you eternity, that even when our time comes and we are reincarnated into the next life I will always find you. I promise to love you Blitz my heart, soul, and body is yours forever and always and way pass eternity,”

“Wow...” Blitz pulled back and looked into Striker’s eyes.

“That was some fancy words you just used,”

Striker just smiled as he pulled Blitz closer to his body.

“For you and only you,”

#striker x blitzo #BlitzStrike #answers asked #anonymous #anon #Helluva Boss #helluva blitzo #helluva boss striker #helluva striker #helluva boss blitzo

[richiettozier]

mal amour

Richie counted to one hundred before pushing against the fancy intercom. Passerby didn't mind his stalling, they just threw a curious glance at him, probably asking themselves why he stood immobile like that for almost two minutes straight before doing anything – he didn't even notice those looks. His eyes are too busy in reading over and over the Kaspbrak tag written elegantly besides the intercom's button.

“Yes?” answered the robotic voice of a woman, and something from his chest fell into the bottom of his stomach. Romantically, his heart. Truthfully, he'd say just bile.

Richie cleared his throat, “Pizza man!” he half–joked. He hoped that she would let him enter with that blatant excuse, but he didn't feel so lucky so he didn't expect anything more of a click and the deaf sound of the silent intercom.

“We never order pizza.”

Jesus fucking Christ.

“I was kidding, obviously.” Richie sighed and tapped once against the wall of the apartment building, also leaning to get closer to the device. He was tired from the trip from Los Angeles to here in New York, so he didn't want to raise his voice. He was lacking of sleep, but it wasn't because of the flight he took in the middle of the night. “I am a... friend of Eddie? I believe he lives here. You know, it's his name on the intercom.”

“A friend of my Eddie?” she seemed to gasp. Richie didn't like the sound she was making, the incredulity he was hearing from the metallic noises coming out the device.

“That's what I said.”

“And what you are called?”

The fuck. “Eddie's mom–” he bristled, stopping himself. He glanced down at his bags abandoned by his feet, and grudgingly he decided that he shouldn't make mom's jokes right now, if he didn't wish to go sleep under a bridge tonight – not that he would sleep in any other place, but it was surely more uncomfortable than a couch. “I mean, Eddie calls me Richie, sometimes Rich, and when he's particularly mad at me he even calls me Richard. But actually, everyone calls me Richie, because that's my name. It's a...” he gulped, “A pleasure. Or it would be, if we weren't talking through an intercom.”

The intercom clicked, in the end, and the silence Richie was expecting finally arrived. He leaned his forehead against the cold marble of the building door's edge and closed his stinging eyes, shunning them from the midday New York sun. Shit. He grabbed his two bags and threw them over his shoulders – half himself wanted to go, just go away, because evidently he wasn't welcomed between the lovebirds; but the other half wanted to ring the intercom again and again, until Eddie himself, obviously annoyed, jumped down the stairs to kick him away from there.

The latter seemed to be the best of the two options. At least Richie would see him, angry and alive, before going fuck himself. His finger stopped mid hair, though, when a long bip came from the building's door, signaling that someone – Richie guessed Eddie, at this point – finally fucking let him enter.

Richie didn't know which floor Eddie's apartment was, so he chose to walk up the stairs instead of use the elevator – a grave mistake, but necessary. He started with a quick step regardless of the tiredness he was feeling in his very bones, but just after a single flight of stairs he already was wheezing. “Thank the fucking God,” he huffed, when he reached the third floor and there was Eddie waiting for him in front of the door of his apartment.

Eddie was clearly looking at the elevator, expecting him to come out of it, that was why he almost jumped when he heard his heavy steps stumbling on the stairs. “Why the fuck you didn't use the elevator, Rich?” It was Eddie's greeting, and Richie almost cried hearing it. “I think I never used the stairs in three years, maybe more.”

“I didn't know where your apartment was, dickwad.” Richie inhaled deeply when he arrived in front of Eddie, and he felt his fingers twitch around the straps of his bags. He tightened his grip, “Hey, Eds.”

Eddie's expression melted, and dimples appeared at the sides of his mouth as he smiled and walked towards him, with warm eyes and open arms. “You fucker.” Eddie hugged him, patting his shoulders. Richie's arms almost circled his waist in the hug, but then he decided to just pat his back the same way. He felt eyes looking through him, but Richie tried not to look up and see who the stare belonged to. He had some ideas, though. “What are you doing here? Are you on tour? You didn't tell you were about to start one so soon.”

Eddie ended the hug, and Richie finally felt enough himself to take a good look at him without feeling jelly legs. He was in a suit, so he must have come back from whatever office he was working in to have lunch – with his wife – and he was so good looking that Richie thought it to be very unfair. He tried not to think much about his own state, worse than he was even before getting up the plane, and he wasn't decent then either. “Well, uh,” Richie sniffed, “No, I'm not on tour. I am still in that sabbatical time, or whatever Steve called my doing absolutely nothing.”

Eddie ushered him inside, and only then Richie forced himself not to look at his ass and stare straight ahead. There is no one, no woman watching at him with a frown, no plus–sized wife sending daggers with her eyes. Only Eddie, and the terrible smell of disinfectant lingering in the too white and aseptic apartment.

“Want a drink?” asked Eddie, gesturing at him to go sit on the couch.

“The strongest you have.” Richie knew that he probably just had, like, lame wine, but he was not going to complain, as he sat on the strangely comfortable cushions of the couch, throwing his bags on the floor without much care.

Eddie put a plain glass of water on the coffee table in front of him. Richie didn't even felt surprised. He should have expected it. Had he really married his fucking mother? “I just have water,” Eddie said, defensively.

“I can see that. It's fine,” Richie waved a hand, “So.”

“So.” Eddie sat next to him, closer than expected, but still too far. “Not that I'm not happy to see you, don't get me wrong here, man. But...” Eddie's warm eyes fell on his bags on the floor, “You should have, you know, gone to the hotel before coming here. So you didn't have to bring your things around the city.”

Richie shrugged, “Haven't booked a room.”

Eddie blinked, then sighed. His eyebrows were scrunched in an adorable frown, “I don't know why, but I'm not surprised.”

“I just, got on a plan and came here, you know? Without much thought. I–” Richie lowered his voice and leaned towards him, fidgeting slightly with his own fingers. He didn't want to look around and see if his wife was eavesdropping their conversation, so he just... let it all out. Who fucking cared. “I wanted to see you.”

Make sure you're still breathing, make sure your chest isn't pierced through, make sure that you're not bleeding on the sewers' dirty floor.

Eddie looked contrite, “Rich–”

“Just for a couple of days? I just need to, to stay with you for a couple of days, not much more. Is it too much to ask? You know, this couch is the most confortable couch my ass has ever put his glorious form on, I'm serious!” Eddie laughed, and Richie took it as a victory, “I wouldn't invite myself if I really didn't need it. I really, really need you. Er, I mean, it. Oh, fuck, alright, you! I need you!”

Eddie lowered his eyes, pointing them on the floor. Richie felt the silence stretching for almost thirty seconds before feeling a bubble of idiotic chatter raising from his throat, but he didn't have the time to splutter out a joke – he just wanted Eddie to laugh, after all – because a snort came out of Eddie's nose, “Rich, you idiot, you can stay as long as you want. No one will kick you out of here.” Eddie's mouth clicked shut, as if he said something he shouldn't, something unforgiving. But at the same time, the determination into his big eyes was saying that he wouldn't change his mind no matter what. “But you really have to sleep on the couch, I have no spare room.”

“Damn, Spaghetti boy, such a luxurious apartment and you didn't even have a spare room? You are the worst rich man I've ever met.”

“Shut up and fuck you.” Eddie shoved him, cackling with a tense laugh that Richie didn't really like, but it was better than nothing, he guessed. “Well, I think introductions are in order, considering that you have to stay here for a while.” he sighed, passing a nervous hand through his neatly hair, ruffling it. Richie's fingers twitched. He felt a pang of guilt for causing Eddie's discomfort, and for thinking of how he longed to do the same with his own hand. When he got up, Richie followed him, “I will take some time off from work, so we can... talk, yeah?”

“You don't need to do that.”

“Yeah, I do. You need me, you said.” Eddie threw him a glance through his long lashes, “And you look like shit, Richie. You look like you went to hell and back.”

I did, Richie thought. He desperately tried to come up with a joke, but all the things roaming into his mind in that moment weren't really funny. So he shrugged, “Yeah, the flight killed me.”

“Later we can go eat something,” Eddie was saying, as he walked into a room that Richie thought to be the kitchen, but it was so clean and neat that maybe he put his feet into an exhibition of furniture without noticing it. “We can talk... freely with a slice of pizza in front of us, how about that?”

“That sounds very good, if you add some ice cream right after.”

“What kind of guy do you think I am now?” Eddie snorted. One that doesn't order pizza anymore, Richie almost said, but the words got stuck in his throat at the sight of the woman he found sitting by an island, cleaning the already shiny marble of the furniture.

That woman was... was Eddie's mother. “I'm having a dé–jà vu.” choked out Richie, leaning against the doorframe, passing a hand on his forehead. “Mrs. K?!”

Eddie hissed, cursed and elbowed him in the ribs.

The woman was huge. Usually there wouldn't be anything wrong about this, but the fucked up similarities to Eddie's mother were making the impact way too traumatizing – Richie would say that only the straight, blonde mid long hair falling over her broad shoulders is the real difference that convinced him that she was not really the late Mrs. Kaspbrak.

“Richie, she's my wife, Myra.” Eddie was saying, ignoring the tumultuous whirlwind fucking Richie's mind. Well, Richie knew, from Eddie's words and confessions back in Derry, that he didn't get over the shadow of his mother, that he completely forgot fighting against her abuses when they were teenagers, but – Richie didn't think it was that bad. Jesus. “Myra, this is Richie, one of my childhood friends. I told you about them, you remember?”

“Yes, you did.” she snarled, “They caused you that scar! And you still have contact with them? You bring them here, in our house? They are dangerous! They will cause you harm, dear!” she said, her light eyebrows knitted together in a worried expression that twisted in rage when her eyes fell on Richie.

Richie, as Eddie just ignored her words as if he'd heard them so many times that they have no meaning anymore to him, grimaced slightly though at her outburst. He felt bad, the lingering uneasiness he had in his bones and insides since they all left Derry spiked up suddenly like an old burn sliding against a hot surface again. He eyed at the silver scar on Eddie's cheek, almost invisible but definitely still there. That scar wasn't Richie's fault, even if guilt squeezed his insides nonetheless, even if he always claimed to love him and then he left him alone right when that scar was made; still it could have been so much worse not much later, and at in that occasion it would have been all his fault.

“I'm wounded,” Richie said, pressing a hand against his chest, “Eddie talked so well about you, Mrs. K, I can't believe he didn't do the same to you!”

She narrowed her eyes even more, and Eddie tugged at his shirtsleeve. “Rich, drop it.”

Richie did. He didn't like the tight lines around his eyes, making him older – still hot, but older. More tired. It was the same expression he wore at sixteen every night Richie had found him in front of his front door, with a backpack and a beg on his lips. God, Eddie didn't deserve this shit again.

Later that day, after a hurried lunch with a slice of pizza – Eddie couldn't take immediately time off, so their talk had been delayed – and a more tense too early dinner with Eddie's wife, Eddie went to talk with his boss on the phone, demanding a vacancy for family matters. He made him rest on the couch, gave him a blanket even if there was a fucking terrible heat outside, while he disappeared in what it should have been his and his wife's bedroom.

His wife was with him, and Richie immediately heard when Eddie stopped talking to his boss and started arguing with her. He didn't catch all of their words, but then she shouted something like, “Is it his fault that you are treating me like this for weeks, Eddie?”, and really, call him a son of a bitch, but he really didn't care that they are at loggerheads because of him. He would gladly take the blame – the merit – of Eddie's blown up marriage. And actually, hearing Eddie's voice coming angry and skittish, screaming that “Richie needs me, I am his best friend!” and groaning when she cried and said to him with a teared up voice “and I am your wife!” from the other side of the apartment was easing his nerves, lulling him into a sleep that for weeks wasn't coming to him at all.

❀  read the rest on ao3!

#reddie #it fanfiction #reddie fanfiction #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #mine:fyccina #reddie fic #it fic

[miracle-sham]

Memento Mori Cries Our Shattered Souls.

| {Jasonette July 2021, Week 1, Day 3: Grave} |

| [Ao3 Link] | | [Masterlist Link] | | [Spotify Playlist Link] |

| Soulmates, are a tricky thing. It's said they're the person who best fits you. Everyone goes through life with half of their Soulmate's soul beside them in the form of an animal that represents the soulmate. |

| Marinette always thoughts she'd get to meet her Soulmate and the other half of her soul one day, and now she never will. Jason never wanted to meet his soulmate or be reunited with the other half of his soul. And now, like Romeo and Juliet, they've truly become star-crossed Soulmates. |

| Word Count: 1,371. |

| Warnings/Tags: Soulmate Au, Major Character Death/Implied Death/Temporary Death/Not Really Dead, Death Related Injuries/Injury Recovery, Miscommunication, Loss of Soulmate, Angst, Emotional Hurt, Explicit Language/Swearing, Starcrossed Soulmates, Wakes & Mentions of Funerary Customs/Traditions. |

———

| A/N: Okay so there's only one song on this one's playlist but c'mon, look my written words in the eyes and tell me that isn't the perfect Jasonette song. Yeah, exactly. Also Choo Choo dear readers, I'm back on the angst train. Grab your tissues and some liquid to hydrate yourself because if you aren't crying by the end of this, then I've failed my job <3 |

| If you want to be tagged in future oneshots/fics or a specific Au, then feel free to send me a dm and or ask! |

| Also side note, Don’t Like? Don’t Read. Also also, please do not criticise any of my writing. This was written for fun and receiving criticism, even in a compliment/criticism sandwich, is the exact opposite of fun. |

———

It isn't a grave. An important difference, Marinette thinks to herself hollowly. There's a dull pang in her chest, and the constant ache of all her many, many still healing injuries. She shouldn't be up and about yet, it's only been a day since she was discharged from hospital. Her parents and the doctors would have kittens. But Marinette needs to do this. And she's already crawled her way up to her balcony chair (though with a little miraculous help of course). Because it isn't a grave but it might as well be one.

It's a simple little thing really, and yet… Yet it's a lot of things.

A shrine, well an altar. On the half wall besides her balcony chair. It's a small stone slab with a lit incense holder in the middle, and a few lit candlesticks in each of the front two corners of the slab. Behind the incense holder, in the back two corners are two bouquets of marigolds, white lilies, and yellow and white chrysanthemums. And in front of the incense holder, is a single photo of her soulmate familiar and all that she has left of her soulmate; Buddy the german shepherd.

Five days ago, her soul bond shattered. Her soulmate familiar nearly shattered too. It was a miracle Buddy only fell into a pseudo-coma instead. Unlike her though, he's yet to wake up. And considering the situation, he may never. One of the doctors—a soulmate related injuries specialist—had said it's rare but not unheard of for that to happen when the human counterpart to their soul familiar dies. And the final damning nail in the coffin was Marinette's own soul familiar counterpart appearing at some point after she had fallen into the three day coma. After all, it's common knowledge that once a soulmate died, you become reunited with the other half of your soul—your soul familiar counterpart.

Marinette doesn't know what happened to her soulmate's body (if there even is one left, considering the injuries found on her and her soul familiar counterpart). Nor does she have any memorabilia or anything that once belonged to her soulmate. And she certainly doesn't know where he was from and if he would've had any preferred cultural funeral rites. So the best she can give him right now, are the typical funeral flowers her parents both recommended, alongside candles and incense. Somewhat plain and generic almost but it's something, and it's better than nothing.

She chokes back a sob and rubs at her red eyes. “It's not fair… I thought Ladybug's were supposed to be lucky.”

There's a faint pitter-patter and a few droplets splatter against the altar. She blinks and glances upwards, briefly wondering if it is starting to rain. But the cloudless sky is all an answer she needs, along with the realisation of dampness on her cheeks and hands. She blinks again, and a few more tears fall.

Tikki makes a small noise of sadness, and gives Marinette one of those tiny little hugs she always gives.

Still, the grief hurts. Marinette will never get to know who her soulmate was. His name, what he looked like, how he smiled, his accent, what he liked, his favourite things, any stupid habits or mannerisms.

And she will never get to know if her soulmate even has a grave already. She could always ask Tikki, she's right there. But the kwami is stressed enough as it is that Marinette fell comatose for three days and nearly died from the injuries inflicted on her soul familiar counterpart. And five days without a proper Ladybug (and not just Master Fu stepping in out of necessity) protecting Paris has started to visibly take its toll on Tikki.

So, Marinette's little altar isn't a grave but it's where she's burying her grief and wishing the ladybug miraculous could do something to fix this.

———

It's not a fucking grave. If Jason had a choice, he'll never let his soulmate be buried in one of those fuckers ever, y'know just in case she ever ends up like him and is forced to crawl out her own grave. But he hasn't got a fucking choice because who knows who or where his soulmate is and what happened to her after he became a dead robin.

Well other than the fact, she's un-fucking-doubtedly dead and it's all his fucking fault, obviously. It's been six months since he crawled out his grave, and Talia had said the Lazarus Pit could heal broken soul bonds and soulmate familiars that died with the soulmate. Clearly fucking wrong seeing as his bond is still shattered as fuck and there's been no sign of Jules—the naturally shifting little soulmate familiar he used to adore. The kinda weird and scrappy looking calico tabby kitten that according to the internet was a cornish rex, that would sometimes shift into an even tinier, very round and fluffy hamster.

And Jason's spent enough time on the streets as a kid to know what happens to the human counterpart when their soul familiar counterpart snuffs it. If he's lucky, she'll be in a coma and will never wake up. And if he's unlucky, then she'll be six feet under like he was. Either way, she's paying for his fuck ups and deserves way better.

A small part of him wonders if that makes them star-crossed lovers. Like a reverse Romeo and Juliet—fucking ironic considering R&J were the inspiration behind Jules' name. He died, and came back only to find irrefutable evidence that his soulmate's dead—or might as well be—because of him dying first, and she'll never know he survived dying.

“It's not fair!” Jason snarls at his fate, vision staining green for a split second. He grits his teeth and glares down at the little altar he's set up in the corner of his room in whatever league of assassins' compound this is. It's got a single lit candle in each corner of the altar—a substitute for how there's supposed to be a burning candle at each corner of a coffin. Still doesn't make it a fucking grave though.

There's also a few bunches of flowers scattered across the middle of the altar—mostly marigolds, with a few white lilies, a couple black roses, a single pheasant's-eye, and a small handful of asphodels. It hadn't been easy to get them, especially since he couldn't exactly leave the compound yet. But Jules and his soulmate deserved this at least.

Marigolds for grief, white lilies more for the funeral staple than the meaning, black roses for death and mourning, pheasant's-eye for painful recollections, and asphodels for my regrets follow you to the grave.

Fucking ironic, seeing as it's on altar and not a grave.

The worst fucking part of being here, was losing Jules. The one fucking constant in his shitty life. Batman replacing him fucking stung alright, and he's never particularly cared for soulmates, yeah. He's seen and heard more than plenty horror stories growing up, and considering how small and cute Jules is, no way would've his soulmate survived Gotham. It's not like he cared too much about meeting her or whatever, but she was fucking innocent and now she's fucking dead. So yeah, she gets asphodels on her altar because he regrets being the reason she and Jules got shattered.

And the pheasant's-eye, well Talia and all the fucking assassins in this hell hole aren't giving him the chance to hold a wake for either of them. And it's not like he knows shit about her or has anything of hers to sit on the altar. He hasn't even got anything left of Jules 'cept his fucking memories. So all he can really do is recount his own memories of her to himself. Maybe he should write 'em down in a book or something…

All in all, it ain't a fucking grave. But it might as well be one because it's where he's burying his memories and feelings. After all, an assassin without a soulmate familiar, or a soulmate, is a lot harder to kill. 'Least he's got that going for him now. But Jules and his soulmate still didn't fucking deserve dying only for him to survive alone.

———

| Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little fic! Comments, likes, and reblogs are much appreciated! |

| Quick reasons behind the Soul Familiar names and species, whilst I know Jason canonically is bad at naming, he's also a literature nerd so hence why he called his soulmate's familiar Juliet, also because it shifts form he can't call it Cat or Hamster. The hamster is because well this is half of Marinette's soul, let's be real, and the cat is because Calicos are seen as lucky and also I thought a Cornish Rex because they're highly intelligent, active, and affectionate and I think that fits Marionette pretty well. As for why Marinette has Buddy, it's purely because Jason reminds me of a German Shepherd and I feel Marinette would've wanted to become friends with her Soulmate as soon as she understood it as a kid, so hence the name buddy. It's not fully accurate to her canon naming skills, but that doesn't matter. |

| If you've been around since the early days of my Maribat/MLB Tumblr side acc, then this premise might sound familiar. Yeah, you've guessed it! It's the Jasonette version of my MTSPY au (rip, I'll get to writing it one day, maybe), aka/originally called LYLaLYL or Lose Your Love and Lose Your Life. I decided since I love the au but I want to re-use a lot of it but with some minor to significant changes. Anyway, if those au names are familiar/you've been around for my last year's content, then here have a virtual hug from me! 🫂 If you can't see this emoji, it's the weird two blue humanoid blobs hugging emoji. Yeah. |

| On a sidenote if there's an obvious difference in writer's voice for the end/beginning notes, tags, and summary, that's because I'm writing this very sleep deprived at 4am and may have gone slightly feral. Yeah. Don't do what I'm doing, get some sleep folks. Half the tags were written at the much more reasonable hour of ten to midnight instead though. |

| Also feel free to send me any comments with any questions you have regarding this fic, I'll be more than happy to answer! |

| @jasonette-july-event |

#Maribat #MLB x DC #DC x MLB #Jasonette #Jasonette July #Jasonette July 2021 #JasMari #MariJay #Marinette x Jason #Jason x Marinette #Jasonette July Week 1 #Jasonette July Day 3 #Jasonette July Grave #Memento Mori Cries Our Shattered Souls #MMCOSS #Sham's Posts #Sham's Writing #Sham's Fics

[jeeperso]

D&D Quotes Without Context

Ravenloft, Hazlan Arc, part 5

"It’s cool. They stole it." "And you know this how?" "Magic." “90% of Ravenloft deaths are mysterious vanishings.” "Why does everything come out covered in glitter and … is that …" "Lube. I’ve got a few theories." "Please don’t share them."

OOC: This is a plan that ends with Strahd having fewer brides, his castle is in flames, and he’s lost his cape.

OOC: Our team consists of a horny pyromancer, a gnome who can fillete you in five seconds, an HP lovecraft protagonist with actual magic backing them up, a literal slab of iron with a face, and a guy with a "I went to the eternal city of Ryleth and all I got was PTSD and this lousy T shirt". Gorbash smashing his shield into their face: "Have! You! Considered! Therapy!" OOC: Good news is you guys will no longer be the most conspicuous guys at the masquerade now. Jonni: Challenge accepted! "Nyx, the bounty on stealing his fake mustache is still on."

"Lets see, gonna make Jonni Deathlock six, gonna make the cleric a Huecuva, the Dragonborn a skeleton warrior, make a wight with the gnome.... I don't think I can make an undead with the big guy but pretty sure Hazlik wants him personally." Gorebash is offended. "I beat the shit out of the witch-slaying sentient hammer that was trying to gank you and all I merit is a Skeleton Warrior! That hurts Nima. I expect CR3 or better or I'm taking my corpse business elsewhere." "I'm not powerful enough to make you a death knight, Sorry." Jonni: "Wow, Hazzy, you need better minions. We should kill her." OOC: Point is, if you can make liches or Death knights, Hazlik's already killed you and written his name over your grad thesis.

Jonni: "NOPE! No fey queens. Not after last time! Well… maybe just a few times…"

“Hey, I need to ask for some magic stuff, but also I need an outfit for a royal dinner. Something that says, I’m an ostentatious adventurer visitor to your lands, but also that I plan to spending this dinner in the cloak room with one or more of the serving maids.”

As it is most gauche to appear before a darklord with a warpick sized hole in the middle of one's chest.

"... This place has made green things seem ominous to me."

"A giant beanstalk, this is the most unique wizard's tower I've ever seen."

On that note you also notice behind the Beanstalk is what seems like a huge lagoon of bubbling green ooze. Edmund leans to the side to get a good look... Several zombies are working tossing corpses into it, as the corpses hit the ooze they dissolve into it. Edmund leans back to get a less good look before knocking.

"Since he hopefully can't hear us, Your boss is kind of a self absorbed egomaniac... if he didn't have so power I'm sure someone would have thrown a brick at him by now." “I know where we can find bricks.” "Supply of Bricks is not the issue, Jonni." “Everyone says that until the revolt starts. Pays to be prepared.”

“That explains it. You’re about the research, your boss is about applied power of dickery.”

“I hung around a magic school once to let the grad students study me for their thesis.”

“Oh, good fascist wizards. Why can’t we kill him again?” "Phenomenal cosmic power."

"Oh crud, the ooze someone merged some of the corpses together and brought them back to life as a new being. At least that is my wild guess as to what happened here." Willow blinks. "Um, this is unprecedented." “Nah, but usually you need lighting and some grave robbing.”

"I mean I grew a toe out of corn." Willow says, "Its not that far fetched."

"You think, therefore you are. Freedom is your right." “Weird, that magic red self driving wagon I met once said something similar.”

"The Elder Brain will deal with you eventually. You will never escape it." “Clan chief told me that the day I stole his mammoth after he found me with his daughter. Pretty sure that loser is still freezing his tiny grimbas off on fuck-stick mountain.”

at supper, to Mama: "I am forbidden from your kitchen for good reason, but I may require your assistance with my culinary dark arts for the feast." Mama gives you a dirty look. "Who are you trying to kill?" "Not kill, on purpose anyway, just a severe enough food coma."

"Yes, I already reminded the others we can't fake our deaths again." "Yeah that only works so often," Sergei says. Edmund lost a perfectly good watch that day.

OOC: THE FUCKING LENG FOLK HAVE UFOS! MOTHER-FUCKERS!

"Plus we owe you for sending the Sullivans our way. That was a well paying job." "Yeah, except I got those fleas on me and hallucinated I was a pawn broker sign. That was a weird afternoon."

As side effect of the dark cookery, Marshal's armor is well-oiled throughout the day, though Mama insists he be kept away from Jonni or pregnant women.

...you can see ominous black clouds of smoke coming from the wagon all that day. The rats and roaches circling it with anticipation. With the occasional black speech of "Double it." Mama comes rushing out after a bit, holding a rag on her face. "That.. is very ominous." “We’re gonna have to cast this back into the fires of its creation eventually.” "Marshal may serve the gods, but when he cooks he's channeling Asmodeus himself." OOC: The meal must be cast into the deep fryers of Mount McDoom. Only there can it be unmade.

Marshal's player: *rolls natural 20 on cooking check* GM: Congradulations, it's edible. Marshal: "It...is done..." "By all that is holy..." The chocolate is so dark, light cannot escape it’s surface. 50 pounds of butter per square inch. OOC: It occurs to me this is basically a more fucked up retelling of Snow White.

“Gor, going with plan C cup. You know what I like if he starts thinking he’s cute by offering choices of rewards.” "Try not to do anything that requires a rescue."

Marshall is clearly trying to spontaneously multiclass into psionics the way he's trying to vaporize Hazlik with his stare.

"I will draw." Hazlik smiles, places the cards before you, then steps the hell back. Jonni pat Edmunds shoulder and shakes his hand. “It’s been okay knowing you. You were one of the least dickish dudes I ever met. And part of a select few I didn’t want to punch in the balls.”

“You will. Briefly. That’s a promise from Jonathana, She Who Makes Torches of Men. Daughter of Eloise Wolf Slayer, outcast of the Mammoth Tribe, and consort of the 37th Princess of Fuck Mountain.“

OOC: Nima is someone we can actively reach to strangle to death. Dark lords are a bit out of choking range.

OOC: But.... and this is important: Will Edmund ever get pants? OOC: Strahd will consider it.

OOC: Like this is the dark powers going "He looked at me crossways, PUT HIM N THE HOLE."

OOC: If Ravenloft is a jail/prison, this is the equivalent of getting thrown in solitary confinement. OOC: Without pants.

#dungeons and dragons #dnd 5e #quotes without context #ravenloft

[bokunoheroanalysisforthefuture]

Hmm, still thinking about character profiles… might try and do something with that after this arc, since I didn’t do it before the USJ arc. Or maybe I should wait until after the Sports Festival? I suppose I’ll have to wait and see if I have enough material…

Still, it does feel weird to try and do character profiles when there are other ones out there that are so much more detailed and really dig into things. I mean, it can’t necessarily hurt for me to do, but it’d also push back the chapters even further when I just want to get caught up, so… bleh.

Anyways, chapter.

[No. 16 - Know Your Enemies]

First off, Mineta, why. Just. Sigh. 

Our first panel has izuku and Tsuyu wading towards the edge of the water, Izuku cradling his broken finger while Tsuyu drags Mineta along. Long and short, Mineta says the villains will be stuck together all day. Izuku is muttering about how lucky they were, because that move was a real gamble, and if the villains had been smart, a few of them would have been hidden under the water. He can guess they weren’t thinking ahead, but they still need to be careful…

Tsuyu tells him to stop, since what he’s muttering about is scary. She then asks him what they should do now. Izuku determines that their top priority is calling for help, and that if possible, they should follow the shoreline and make for the exit, avoiding the plaza altogether. (Meanwhile, Tsuyu asks if Izuku’s okay, which he confirms even while wincing over his injury.) Izuku’s narration recounts that their first battle ended in a win, but that he’d made a deadly wrong assumption. 

Huh. Izuku is using his elbow pad as a temporary compress for his broken finger. Interesting.

Tsuyu accepts Izuku’s plan, and then notes that Aizawa is drawing a large number of villains to the plaza. Izuku is worried about their teacher, noting that there’s too many enemies. Of course, Eraserhead is holding his own out there, but it’s too much for him, and that he had to know that, but jumped in to protect the class anyways.

Mineta think Izuku is planning something stupid (which I mean, rude but fair) while Tsuyu gives a neutral ribbit. Izuku clarifies that he isn’t saying they should dive right into the fight - just that they watch for an opening and do what they can to lighten their teacher’s load. The narration from above finishes with an ominous statement - thinking that they stood a chance against those enemies was a grave miscalculation.

Then we get an overview of the USJ and where everyone was sent, serving as the ‘cover page’ for the chapter. 

Interestingly, neither Aoyama or Hagakure have a confirmed location, though I am aware that Hagakure later states she was in the same zone as Shouto. And Shouji… oh, poor Shouji…

Can’t believe my good hugs boy was slandered like this… damn you Viz…

Not to mention the disrespect to our goddess Yaomomo… when will it end...

Next up, we get to see Shouto being casually intimidating. He exhales a chilled breath as his shoulder starts to steam, musing about the villains’ divide and conquer strategy. He then notes with a half-hearted preemptive apology that it’s hard to see the villains who were in the landslide zone as any more than thugs with quirks they can’t even handle. 

Jesus christ where does his ice end.

Shouto approaches the closest villain - perhaps the leader of that squad - his boots crunching in the ice as his left side continues to steam. The squad leader(?) calls him a bastard and complains how he reacted the second he was warped there, as well as wonders if he’s really just a kid before complaining about the pain from the frostbite of the ice.

Shouto briefly flashes back to Shigaraki mentioning how they brought along so many playmates (which I guess confirms that Jirou and/or Shouji forwarded some of what the villains were saying down in the plaza because otherwise there’s no way they should have heard from that distance.) He thinks about how the villains want to kill All Might, and and first, they’d all seemed elite, so they could use their numbers to overwhelm him. But taking a closer look, the pawns are only there for the kids, nothing but a gang of low-level cannon fodder. As far as he can tell, there are only about four or five really dangerous individuals there.

He then sits down(!!!) as he gets the villains’ attention, noting that at the rate they’re going, their skin will rot away from frostbite. The villains are alarm, but Shouto continues on, explaining that he’s trying to become a hero, and that heroes don’t do such horrible things. As he thinks about what he needs to do next, he asks the villains what makes them think they can kill All Might, and to tell him their plan.

Shouto, my man, that is a power move and a half right there, I cannot believe he actually sits down and makes them talk to him like an unruly class of students or sommat. Just, fucking hell, I don’t even know if he realizes how effectively he just asserted his dominance.

Our next scene shift (and the last for this post) is over to Yaomomo, Jirou, and Kaminari in the mountain zone, surrounded by enemies. 

Pick your fighter. I’m Birb Dude. 

A lot of those enemies have weapons of zome kind and are overall fairly intimidating, though there’s also this one fucker-

I’m sorry I just cannot take this one seriously, what the FUCK is that. There’s certainly some other questionable villains in this mess, but that one just. What.

Anyways. Kaminari just dodges a heavy punch from the big villain with the weird helmet on. He yelps as he gets closer to the girls and gets into formation (back to back to back), complaining about his whole life flashing before his eyes and asking who the hell those guys are and what they’re doing there. Jirou tells him to worry about that later, with Yaomomo stating they need to figure out how to get away from that mob. 

Jirou asks Kaminari to confirm he’s a ‘lightning guy’, and then tells him to just fry them all to a crisp. While she’s holding a presumably metal sword. Yeah no, I can’t see anything wrong with that plan. Kaminari is offended because why wasn’t she paying attention when were partners during the battle training? 

He then goes on to explain that he can only cover himself in electricity (so he wants a weapon), then goes on to say that he can discharge it, but he can’t control it - he’d hit them as well! Kind of like Todoroki’s power. He also states that he’s still trying to call for help, but his special transceiver is being jammed. He then finishes with the statement that they can’t rely on him, so he’s relying on them, giving a thumbs up with a bit of zap coming off of it.

Jirou grumbles about how he blabs a lot for a guy, then turns and kicks him into the crowd of villains, telling him to be a human stun gun. Kaminari yelps in disbelief at the betrayal, smacking right into the huge villain who almost punched him before and giving the guy a real good zap. Jirou is unimpressed as Kaminari realizes that the adhoc plan actually worked, and that the two can in fact rely on him after all. Jirou notes that that was easy.

Two other villains move to go after Kaminari, who is STILL somehow zapping the guy (how is that villain not dead yet??), with the rock fisted guy aiming a massive bouldery fist at a scared Kaminari. However, right before it hits, it gets cracked open by some kind of soundsave, leaving the villain’s unprotected fist to land right in Kaminari’s face and get them brutally zapped as well.

The boar-masked villain with knives tries to leap in, but a net shot from seemingly nowhere catches him mid-air and sends him falling to the ground caught up in it. We see right after that it was shot from Yaomomo’s right forearm / elbow, all while she’s blocking another strike from a different villain with her staff. She tells Jirou and Kaminari to get serious, with Jirou apologizing as she lifts her short sword again. 

Jirou unplugs her ear jack from the speaker in her right boot, the jack retracting to normal length as she notes that she had a good plan, but Kaminari… (something? IDK. I guess he’s in the way? Or she wasn’t expecting his quirk limitations?)

We get her full name - Jirou Kyoka - and a description of her quirk, Earphone Jack.

We also get to see her use her quirk without the speakers, directing one of those amplified heartbeats as a direct attack at some of the villains, who hold their hears as they shout from the pain. Jirou blocks another up-close sword attack with her own short sword, nothing that in her costume request, she asked for a way to focus her sound in one direction.

A question about her costume, like. Why are the speakers in her boots? I mean, I know her costume needed speakers to direct her quirk, but why not go for something like Present Mic’s costume where she could have the speakers on her shoulders and so a lot closer to her quirk???

Yeah, I need to try and keep remembering that these are first draft costumes made by fifteen year olds and not meant to be used in the field / against villains yet. Sometimes I am a dumb. Thank you discord for knocking my head straight.

Moving on, we get Yaomomo kicking another villain back as she states that ‘it’s ready’, which confuses Jirou and I guess the villains as well. The villain she kicked stumbles back as Yaomomo crouches over, her back starting to bulge as she notes that it took some time, what with it being a larger object. The back of her costume tears open in a fairly gruesome-seeming image, only for the next panel to reveal it’s some kind of huge sheet that shoot out over her and Jirou’s heads before coming down to completely cover them both.

The villains are confused about the sheet, asking if the kids are trying to shield themselves. Meanwhile, Kaminari seems done shocking the other villains, stumbling as others start to run at him with their weapons or hands poised to strike. Momo clarifies that the sheet is a 100 mm thick insulation sheet, then tells Kaminari ‘now.’ Kaminari, nose bloody, realizes her plan and let her know that. He lifts his arms, telling the villains that he’s actually super strong before bringing them down and fully unleashing his quirk, zapping all of them at once.

Pikachu, use Thunder!

As the quirk wears off, we see all the villains are in no condition to keep fighting. Smoke rises from the insulated sheet as Yaomomo lifts the edge, noting that now that that is handled, she’s worried about the others, so they need to hurry up and regroup. Jirou is flustered as she points out Yaomomo’s wardrobe malfunction (which I will not be sharing here), while Yaomomo calmly replies she can make more clothes. We also get a blurb on Yaomomo’s quirk:

As well as probably one of the most important things that Bones cut out for some stupid reason: belly rolls!

Yes, Yaomomo actually has a healthy weight in the manga. I mean, all the girls do, but still. Why do animes just ruin this stuff. 

Anyways, our last two panels of the page and this half of the chapter show Kaminari totally brain dead as he cheers, with another blurb about his quirk:

Behind all three of them, we see a fist smashing up out of the ground, showing that someone managed to dodge that super-attack after all…

Anyways, that’s a wrap for now. Next time is all Aizawa and Shigaraki, and that’s gonna be… messy. See y’all then!

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #chapter 16 #usj arc #readthrough #midoriya izuku #asui tsuyu #mineta minoru #todoroki shouto #Yaoyorozu Momo #jirou kyoka #kaminari denki #whoo boy a lot of action in here #and all the kids being pretty cool #yaomomo our goddess proving she deserves the no. 1 hero spot #i should just make that a tag for her #she carries the entire damn class on her back #long post #sorry I got a bit into this chapter hahaha #should just tag all of these with long post tbh #then again people following this blog should accept the long posts for what they are

[fanmoose12]

Levi just couldn’t believe it.

He couldn’t believe that his ship – a legendary Wings of Freedom, the pride of the British armada – was ambushed. He couldn’t believe that he – an experienced captain and famed veteran – along with his crew of the most skilled soldiers in the whole sea force was captured.

By fucking pirates. Stinking, dirty pirates.

Levi was enraged, he was humiliated, and most of all, he was confused.

How those fuckers managed to approach their ship undetected? How did they get on it unnoticed? And how could that woman, their captain, get inside his private chambers?

Levi was an extremely light sleeper. Years in army and, before that, years of living on the street had taught him that it was an essential skill. The smallest of noise, the quietest creak could wake him up.

But somehow this woman managed to open the door, walk inside his room and stand directly above him, as he kept peacefully slumbering. Only when she pressed a cold dagger to his throat, only then Levi woke up.

And as he opened his eyes, he was met with a face of a woman he had never seen before. She was wearing round glasses and her left eye was covered by a black patch. Her hair was haphazardly put up in a ponytail. Her lips were curved in a wide, almost crazy grin.

“Hi,” she whispered to him, pressing her dagger tighter to his skin. Her voice was soft as honey. “I really don’t want to hurt you, and I’m sure you don’t want me to hurt you. So let’s cooperate, alright?”

Levi bared his teeth at her. Like hell he would cooperate with someone like her. There was a dagger hidden underneath his pillow. He started to slowly move his hand, if he could just reach it—

The woman grabbed his hand, before it touched the handle.

“Ah, ah,” she shook her head. “Don’t move.”

She held his arm firmly, she was evidently strong. But not stronger than Levi. He could overpower her, he was sure of it.

“I wouldn’t do it, if I were you,” the woman said, seeing through his intensions. “Even if you can win a fight with me,” If? Who did she think he was? “My people are standing outside, and all of your people were already dealt with.”

Levi tensed, all blood leaving his face. Was his crew—?

“They are alive,” the woman assured him. Her gaze turned surprisingly soft. “And unharmed. And if you promise to cooperate, they will be safe.”

“And why should I trust you?”

“I am an honest person.”

“Pirates don’t know what honor is.”

“Then you’re in luck,” she laughed. “After all, I’m only a part-time pirate!”

 ***

Hange Zoe – a part-time pirate and a full-time explorer of distant lands.

That’s how she described herself to Levi. The name, the name sounded so familiar, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember, where he had heard it.

Levi glared at her furiously, as she walked around the deck, talking about herself, her crew and what they were intending to do to their ship. Levi didn’t really listen, he was too busy, thinking of the best way to murder her. He could shoot her, or run her through with his sword, or, maybe, he could throw her off the ship and watch her slowly drown. He also could capture her and take her back to England. He wasn’t a fun of executions, but he would happily attend Hange Zoe’s hanging.

But first, he needed to free himself from the ropes that bound his legs and arms together. Levi was actually impressed – those pirates certainly knew how to tie up a person, he couldn’t move an inch. They probably had a lot of experience. He glanced to his right, checking on Mikasa, his second in command. She looked just as furious as he did. So, she couldn’t free herself either. Levi turned to his other crew members – Armin, Eren, Jean, Connie and Sasha – all of them looked as helpless as Levi himself felt.

Shit.

Levi turned his attention back on Hange. She was looking right at him.

“I asked where you are heading,” she crouched next to Levi. “So?”

He stared at her, letting her see all of his fury. If she was actually expecting an answer from him, she was going to be very disappointed.

Hange waited for a moment, smiling expectantly. When Levi continued to silently glare at her, she huffed and turned to the person next to him.

“You,” she pointed at Armin. The boy immediately tensed. “Where are you going?”

“Um…” Armin’s eyes darted to Levi, as sweat started to drip down his face.

“C’mon,” Hange’s smile grew wider. “Just tell me.”

“We are… going to Port Royal,” he finally whispered.

“See? It wasn’t so hard.”

Her voice was so gentle and her eyes were so soft, and it all looked so genuine, Levi felt sick. What a vile, vile woman.

“Well, you’ve heard him,” Hange got to her feet and turned around, addressing the three of her crewmen. “Moblit, set course to Port Royal. Nifa, go and help him. Abel and Keiji, stay with me.”

Once she was done with giving out orders, Hange turned back to Levi. She put hands on her hips, staring at him intently. She didn’t say a word for a very long time, continuing to watch him.

“You’ve said that pirates don’t have honor,” she said finally. “Members of the navy do?”

“Of course, we do!” Eren, another member of his crew, shouted.

Hange turned to look at the boy, her lips twitching in an attempt to hide a smile. However, when her eyes returned to Levi, all signs of amusement were gone. She gazed at him, grave and serious. “Can you guarantee that?”

“I can,” Levi nodded.

“Alright,” she sighed. “I’m going to release you then. You can walk around the ship freely, doing whatever you want. We will get you to Port Royal safely. We won’t harm you, if you promise to cooperate.”

“You won’t kill us?” Levi asked slowly. “What do you want from us then?”

“I just want your ship,” she answered simply. “And I don’t want to hurt you. If you give us your ship, no one will be hurt. That I swear to you.”

“And what if I won’t agree? What if we start fighting the moment you free us?”

“I could have killed you. I still can. But I don’t want to. If you’re as honest man as you claim, you will respect that. And honor our treaty.”

It was stupid. Foolish, reckless, senseless. Pirates can’t be trusted, they’re murderers and thieves. But something told him that this woman was different, that Hange Zoe, a part-time pirate and full-time explorer, would keep her word.

And Levi, once he gave his word, always kept it.

“I agree to your terms. I promise not to hurt you, or your men. Once we get to the shore, you will get your ship.”

Hange smiled, bright and happy. “And you will get your freedom.”

***

Sharing a ship with pirates was surprisingly… easy.

Hange and her trusty crew were nothing like the pirates Levi had previously encountered. They weren’t violent or greedy, and they didn’t spend their days drinking and cracking vulgar jokes. They were actually… quite pleasant and obviously intelligent bunch. Those words, of course, didn’t apply to their captain. No, Hange was different, she got on Levi’s nerves so frequently, he felt like he was slowly losing his sanity.

She was loud, brash and bold. She wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, and she didn’t stop to think about her choice of words, always spurting out the weirdest, most inappropriate shit. Hange was absolutely infuriating, impossible in every way. And it angered Levi, made him fucking furious and just realizing it was painful, but she intrigued him. He was captivated by her unusual persona, by different, and often clashing, parts of her character.

And he wasn’t the only one.

Levi’s whole crew liked Hange. Armin and Eren were fascinated by her stories about distant lands, Jean enjoying listening about different cultures she studied, Sasha and Connie were stuffing themselves with exotic food she found during her travels. Even Mikasa, who, at first, acted hostile towards her, started admiring her, when Hange showed her the collection of bizarre weapons, which she accumulated over the years of exploring the many realms and continents.

All of them were in fucking awe of Hange, and Levi suspected that even if he decided to break his promise and kill Hange to save their ship, he would have a really hard time convincing his subordinates to go with his plan.

Luckily, Levi had no intention of going back on his word. As long as Hange was keeping her end of the bargain, of course.

The more Levi watched her, the more it seemed like his first impression of her was wrong. Hange didn’t look like the cruel, violent woman Levi thought she was. On the contrary, she seemed kind and even gentle. She fiercely cared about her own crewmembers and she treated Levi’s crew with warmth and good-naturedness.

All in all, Hange appeared to be a good, honest person. At least, that’s what Levi wanted to believe.      

  ***

Another thing about Hange that frustrated Levi so much was her name. It still eluded him. He was sure, absolutely adamant that he had heard it before, but he just couldn’t remember where. He even asked Armin to look into this, but as for now, the boy didn’t give him any real answer.

So all he could do now was to continue watching her from afar, hoping that with time he would be able to solve this mystery.

  ***

There were many aspects of Hange that surprised and bewildered Levi. But the most amazing part of her was how skillful she was. She was a great and evidently experienced captain, passionate and knowledgeable explorer, who knew a whole myriad of different languages and culture customs. And she was also a very good fighter. Whatever weapon she used – sword, musket, crossbow, spear or axe (Levi especially enjoyed watching her wield that for the reasons he didn’t want to think about) – she was always deadly efficient with it.

In her spare time, Hange helped Mikasa train and, from time to time, she also agreed to duel with some of Levi’s subordinates. Eren and Jean were the ones who liked to challenge Hange the most, even though they always lost to her.

Naturally, it hurt some parts of Levi’s pride. He was the one, who trained those idiots. And Hange won fights with them without much hassle. But he would lie, if he said that he didn’t like watching her. Hange was strong, quick and endlessly graceful. Even with patch, covering her left eye, she was swift and coordinated.

It was one of those times, when Levi watched Hange effortlessly disarm Eren that Armin sat down next to him.

“I think I found out the origin of captain Hange’s name,” the boy said, handing Levi a book.

He scanned through the contents of a page Armin showed him. So that’s where Hange was from? He would need to ask her about it. Finally, he gained some leverage on her.

He was so lost in that satisfactory feeling that he didn’t notice that Eren had clutched his arm and started dragging him upwards.

“Captain, please!” Eren lamented, as he continued to pull Levi up. “You have to fight with captain Hange. She always wins, it’s unfair!”

“Yes, you have to show her what we’re made of!” Jean agreed.

“We believe in you, Captain!” Sasha cheered, giving Levi one last shove in the direction of Hange.

Hange herself stood in front of him. She put hands on her hips, grinning at him. “You don’t have to fight with me. If you’re afraid to lose.”

Oh, so that was it? She was that cocky? Well, Levi couldn’t just let it continue. He snatched the saber out of Eren’s hand, taking a stand and smirking at her gloomily. “You fought those fools and think you can win a duel with me? Not in a million years, pirate.”

“Why won’t we spice it up a little, sailor? Want to start a bet? Whoever loses has to fulfill the winner’s wish.”

Levi scowled. “You didn’t start any bets with those brats.”

“Because I knew it would be an easy. But you… I think you are quite a challenge.”

“And what kind of wish are we talking about?”

Hange gave him an almost feral grin. “Anything that comes to your mind.”

“And if I ask you to jump over the railing and give me back my ship?”

“Um, yeah,” Hange chuckled. “Anything but that.”

Levi huffed. “Fine, let’s get on with it, then.”

Hange mimicked his stance, ready to strike. “Show me what you got.”

As soon as Hange stopped talking, she attacked. It wasn’t a mighty swing, she was evidently just testing the ground, and Levi blocked it easily. Hange immediately followed it with another hit, and then another. Levi had no choice but to step back. He looked at Hange closely, he watched her fight with Eren, Jean and Mikasa, and she used a different style then. In duels with them, she was more on a defensive, waiting for an opportunity to land her critical hit. But now, she was moving swiftly, attacking him again and again, forcing him to either block and give her an opening, or move back.

Oh. So that’s what she was trying to do.

Levi looked her in the eye. Hange met his gaze, grinning wildly.

He blocked her next attack and then countered it with his own. Before Hange could react, he inflicted another blow. Two could play this game.

So very soon, Hange had to start evading his attacks. She jumped to the side or took a step back. She tried to retaliate, but Levi didn’t give her even a chance to do so. And in a matter of a few minutes of furiously charging at her, Levi finally had her exactly where he needed. Cornered against the door of a cabin. With a heavy swing, he knocked the weapon out of her hand. Then he moved his saber up, pressing its tilt to Hange’s throat.

He took a step closer, until their chests were nearly touching. Hange was breathing heavily, and with a start Levi realized that he had some difficulty breathing too.

Was it because of their fight? Or something else?

Hange licked her lips, before curving them in another grin. Levi’s eyes traced that movement. Suddenly, he wanted to take another step closer. Move so close that he would be able to look into her eye. From where he stood, it was near impossible to see the brown color of her iris, almost all of it was taken over by the black of the pupil. Was she so excited because of their fight? Or something else?

And then, as Hange slowly lifted her hands in surrender, Levi realized. He could kill her right now. She was weaponless and helpless, entirely at his mercy. He could end it right there and then, get rid of Hange and then deal with the rest of her team. Take his ship back. But somehow, murder wasn’t the thing that occupied his mind.

Instead, for some weird reason, he couldn’t look away from her lips. From up close, they looked soft. If he touched them right now, if he tasted them, pressing his own mouth to them, would he like it? Would Hange like it?

“That was great, Captain!”

Eren clasped his shoulder with a smile, and Levi moved swiftly, as though his proximity with Hange had burned him. He threw the saber to the ground, hastily leaving the deck.

What was wrong with him? What the fuck was he thinking about? Hange was his enemy, a dirty pirate, who had stolen his ship, and what he wanted to do with her? Make out? Stupid fucking idiot.

“Levi, wait!”

Oh no, it was Hange. Levi tried to close the doors to his cabin, but she had already stepped inside.

“You didn’t tell me your wish,” she explained, smiling softly.

Oh, right, the wish. Certainly, there were a couple of things he wished to do with Hange. And those were the same things he shouldn’t even think about!

“Come out to the deck at midnight,” he said instead, ignoring the weird feelings inside his chest. And the almost irresistible urge to get close to Hange. “I want to talk with you about something.”

“Roger that!” Hange saluted to him, leaving his cabin.

Levi watched her go. She seemed completely unaffected. Was he the only one, who felt this? This tension, this atmosphere between them. It was intense, charged with something powerful and unnamable. It pulled Levi closer, made it impossible to look away, when Hange was in his line of sight.

He just couldn’t stay away from her. And the worst thing – he didn’t want to.

  ***

As soon as his watch stroke midnight, Levi walked out to the deck. Hange was already there, waiting for him.

She looked different than usual – she changed from her shirt, pants and long coat into a thin white shirt a light yellow robe. Her hair was free out of the familiar ponytail, and now the soft brown locks cascaded down to her shoulders. She looked weird, seemed almost innocent and fragile. Levi mentally scoffed, as that word came to his mind. Hange was many things, but she definitely wasn’t fragile.

“Did you want to talk?” she asked without looking at him. “Or did you come here to stare at me?”

Shit, so she noticed him. Levi felt his face burn. Damn it, he needed to focus.

“I found your family,” he said, thrusting a book Armin gave him into her hands. “Francisco Zoe, that’s your father right?”

“Maybe,” Hange shrugged, not even glancing at the book. “What does it matter, though?”

“He is a member Parliament, he owns a massive amount of lands and estates – he’s rich and very influential!”

“So what?” Hange lazily required.

“So what?!” Levi gasped. “You, his only child, are a pirate captain, who can’t even afford your own ship!”

“I’m not his child,” she retorted bitterly. “He is a cruel and heartless man, who doesn’t give a shit about me. He never did. The only reason, why he kept me by his side all these years was because he wanted to marry me off. And when I refused, he disowned me.”

“Your father kicked you out…” Levi stared at her incredulously. “So you’ve decided to become a pirate?”

“I’m not a pirate,” Hange reminded him. “I always dreamed of being an explorer – of studying and researching different cultures. But no university in England wanted to hire me, so,” she rolled her shoulders. “I stole a ship and decided to make my dream a reality.”

“And your crew—?”

Hange smiled, the gesture softening her features. “They’ve been servants at my father’s house. I used to read them my books, and when I was preparing to run away, they wanted to go with me. We’ve been together ever since.”

Levi shook his head, trying to make a sense of Hange’s story. She had it all – wealth, social status and a safe future, but she decided to sacrifice it, because she had other dreams, because she wasn’t content with her life. It was hard for Levi to understand it, or her. He grew up poor and struggled all his life, just trying to survive. His mother died, when he was a boy, his uncle left him, when he was barely a teenager. He would have given anything to be in Hange’s place, to live a comfortable and safe life. But she threw it all away and didn’t seem to regret it in the least.

“You seem troubled,” Hange noted with a quiet chuckle.

“I don’t understand you,” Levi answered truthfully. “You just left your comfortable life behind, became a criminal and an outlaw, who can be killed at any moment. Dozens of British officers are trying to capture you, send you to jail, or, worse to the gallows. Why did you do it?”

“To free myself,” Hange said softly, but proudly. “To get away from my asshole father and live my life the way I want it to. And by the way, you’re wrong,” she smiled mischievously. “There aren’t any British officers, who are trying to capture me.”

Levi raised an eyebrow. “And what makes you so sure?”

Hange leaned in, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I didn’t cut my ties with London completely. I still have a few very influential friends.”

Levi’s eyes widened, as he realized who exactly Hange meant. There was only one person, who held such a high rank and was daring and reckless enough to conspire with pirates.

“And what that bastard needs from you?”

“B-bastard?” Hange choked. “You know Erwin?!”

“He’s my superior officer,” Levi grumbled, avoiding Hange’s curious gaze. “And you didn’t answer my question, four-eyes.”

“Ah, well,” Hange adjusted her glasses. “Pirates frequently attack ships. And sometimes Erwin points me to especially well-equipped vessels.”

“You spy for him!” Levi pinned Hange with a hard gaze. “Did he tell to attack our ship as well?”

“No! It was a mere coincidence,” Hange smiled slyly, playing with strands of her hair. “Or maybe fate?”

“There is no such thing as fate,” Levi huffed.

“So everything happens without a reason?”

“Exactly,” he nodded.

Hange elbowed him in the side, chuckling. “You’re a cynic.”

“And you’re naively optimistic.”

“Opposites attract?” Hange smirked.

And there it was again. That same electrifying tension, which pulled Levi closer to her. He tried to resist it, but the longer he spent looking into her eye, the harder it became to tear his gaze away. Hange stared back at him just as intently, her tongue darting out to lick her lips. It looked like a completely involuntarily action, but Levi’s pulse raced double time.

Was Hange’s heartbeat as loud and fast as his? Was she as affected by their sudden proximity as he was?

Without really thinking about his actions, Levi slowly lifted his arm. He didn’t know what he was trying to do – put it on her shoulder to bring her closer? Tangle it in her hair, so he could crash their lips together?

But before he had a chance to decide, Hange jumped to the side, escaping his arms.

“It’s getting late, don’t you think?” she giggled. The sound was so forced, it made Levi cringe. “I think I’ll head to bed now! Goodnight!”

And then Hange almost ran to her own cabin.

Shit.

Levi lowered his hand and tightened it into a fist. What was he even thinking? What was she doing to him, why couldn’t he control himself in her presence? It wasn’t like him at all, he was always in control. He controlled every emotion and feeling, every move of his body and word from his mouth. But when Hange was around, all of his carefully constructed walls crumbled and fell. One smile from her was all it took for Levi to lose his mind, to completely surrender to her charms or whatever it was that made him react so wildly.

He needed to get a grip on himself. He needed to stop thinking about the brown color of her eye, or the soft curve of her smile, or the way her laughter reminded him of warm, sunny days.

Hange was a pirate, his enemy. She stole his ship for Christ’s sake! He must hate her, not want to kiss her so hard that she would forget everything, but his name.

He needed to get her out of his head. To avoid her at all costs, until they part their ways.

***

Surprisingly, avoiding Hange wasn't as hard as Levi had feared. All he really had to do was to close himself inside his cabin and take as much books from Armin, as the boy had.

It wasn't an ideal situation, Levi hated sitting around and doing nothing, and Armin's choice of books was boring, to say the least. But. It gave him at least something to think about besides Hange and whatever was going on between them.

Still, even though he was spending all his days behind closed doors, it was hard to escape from Hange. The walls were paper-thin and so Levi heard her every laugh or exclamation. And every time he did, his treacherous mind filled with images of Hange's infuriating face. He'd think about her stupid cocky grin or her annoyingly sweet smile or her pretty brown eyes that seemed to sparkle, when she was excited or happy.

And it drove him mad, made him want to bang his head against the wall, because goddamn it, but he wanted her. He wanted her so much it was insufferable. It confused him, and, more than that, it scared him.

He had never felt like this - sure, he wasn't a stranger to sex, and sometimes, when he was on land, he'd seek some pleasurable company, but he never did it intentionally. He had never wanted it, needed it so much.

But when Hange was next to him, he could barely resist himself. He wanted to kiss her so much it almost pained him.

But somehow he knew— he knew that if he let himself kiss her, if he managed to taste her on his lips at least once, then he wouldn't be able to let go. And he couldn't, wouldn't let that happen.

Soon they'll reach Port Royal. Hange would be gone from his life forever. And, hopefully, she'd be gone from his heart too.

*** Levi was reading a particularly thrilling paragraph about navigation, when his door began to shake with thunderous blows. He groaned, recognizing Eren's knocks right away.

"The fuck do you want?" he shouted, not bothering to get to his feet and open the door.

Unfortunately, either Eren didn't hear him or he misinterpreted his words for a welcome, because in the next second he tumbled inside his room.

"Captain!"

Levi tensed, as he saw that the boy looked absolutely wild - his face was flushed and his eyes stared at him with a desperate implore. Did something happen? Were they attacked or—

"It's an absolute disaster!" Eren cried out. "Captain Hange's crew, you have to stop them!"

What? Did Hange decide to break her promise? Levi felt his blood go cold. He believed her, fucking trusted her and she betrayed him?

"Eren," Levi walked to the boy and tightly gripped his shoulders. "What happened?"

"The tournament!"

The what?

"We decided to organize the tournament, to find out who is better - pirates or members of navy, and—"

"Wait," Levi took a step back, pinching the bridge of his nose. Headache started to form behind his eyelids. "You are this panicked because of some stupid competition?"

"We can't lose to them, Captain!"

"Our honor is on the line!" Connie added, materializing seemingly out of thin air. All other members of Levi’s crew appeared next to him as well. All of them had the same desperate expressions as Eren.

Levi sighed. The headache was rapidly intensifying. "Fine, tell me what happened."

"We were kind of bored, so Сaptain Hange proposed to find out who are the best fighters," Eren began. "There were four duels."

"I defeated Keiji!" Connie shouted proudly.

"But that horse Jean lost to Abel," Eren shook his head. Jean glared at him, elbowing him in the side.

"Mikasa won in a fight against Moblit," Armin said, smiling nervously.

"But Sasha couldn't defeat Nifa," Connie sadly finished.

"So now we have a tie!" the fire returned to Eren's eyes.

"And the fuck I have to do with your shit?" Levi asked, crossing hands on his chest and scowling at his subordinates. "You still didn't fight, Eren. Go and duel with four-eyes. Win that stupid tournament and get over it."

"But Captain! I've fought with her dozens of times! And I didn't win even once!"

"Guys," Levi tensed, as he heard that voice. Soon its owner appeared in his doorway. "Don't pressure your Captain so much. If he's afraid of losing, there is nothing you can do."

Oh, that's how it was? She was back to her insufferably cocky self?

"I won last time, four-eyes," Levi coldly remained.

"Doesn't mean you'll win this time too," she smirked.

"If you want to embarrass yourself again," he growled, pushing past his crewmembers.

He grabbed the saber from Mikasa, gripping it tightly in his hand. His grip became even tighter, when he saw the smug look on Hange's face, as she sauntered to stand in front of him.

She twirled her own saber, that damn smirk still plastered on her lips. Levi wanted to wipe it off with his fist, or, more preferably, with his own lips.

"The terms are the same as last time? The one who loses has to fulfill the other's wish?"

"You were the one, who lost last time," Levi reminded her again.

"The past is in the past," Hange shrugged, before taking a fighting stance.

In the next moment, she attacked. And even though, Levi was ready for it, he wasn't quite ready for the force of her hit. Hange swung her saber so heavily, Levi's own weapon had almost fallen to the ground.

He cursed under his breath, she changed her fighting style again. She didn't give him the slightest chance to adapt. What an irritating woman. Fighting with her was absolutely exhilarating.

Before he could perform his own attack, Hange hit him again. And again. Her swings were fast, but strong, and all Levi could do was try his best to avoid them. He blocked, ducked, jumped back, stepped aside. Soon he and Hange were dancing around the deck, going around each other in circles.

Hange was an excellent fighter, but not better than Levi. Dueling with her wouldn't be that hard, if he could focus on something else, except that exciting twinkle in her eye.

And, of course, because she wasn't just a good fighter, but an incredibly sharp person, Hange saw right through him. And turned his fault into her advantage. While Levi was so centered on her face, she swung lowly, hitting his wrist. It was an intentionally soft hit, Hange was evidently extra careful not to hurt him. However, the impact still made him drop his weapon.

A wide, victorious grin appeared on her face. Behind them, Hange's crew began to shout in triumph, while Levi's men groaned in defeat.

"I'll be waiting for you at midnight," she whispered, patting his shoulder.

And then, she went to accept congratulations from her crew, leaving Levi stare after her with a dazed and shook expression.

  ***

Levi knew it was a bad idea. To stand next to Hange on the empty deck in the middle of the night - he was practically asking for trouble. But he always kept his word, and he wouldn't break his principals now. He'd listen to what Hange wants from him, he'd perform whatever stupid task she'd ask. And then he'd leave.

Without looking back.

He got a sense of déjà vu, when he walked out to the deck and saw Hange there.

"So you came," she noted without turning to face him.

"You doubted me?" Levi took a few steps closer, but still stood a little distance away.

"Well," Hange shrugged. "You were avoiding me for three days."

So she noticed, huh? Well, he wasn't exactly subtle.

"What is your wish?" he asked gruffly, trying to mask his uneasiness.

Hange grinned, finally looking at him. "Kiss me," she said simply.

"What?!"

"Kiss me," Hange repeated sweetly, as though she was talking to a child. "On the lips."

"Are you out of your mind?"

"Maybe. But you agreed to a bet. Or does honor means nothing to you?”

Levi let out a low growl. She was taunting him, he knew that. Telling her to go fuck herself and then leaving was the smartest thing to do.

Unfortunately, Levi didn’t consider himself to be a very smart person.

So her grabbed by the shirt and crashed his lips against hers. He meant for it to be brief, just a simple touch. But when Hange opened her mouth and a quiet moan escaped her, Levi knotted his fists into her shirt, pulling her harder against him.

He felt shivers run down his spine, his knees were getting wobbly, but he didn’t stop, not until he was completely out of breath.

“Jeez,” Hange whispered, when they broke apart. “I knew you were good, but I could have never imagined that.”

“You thought about kissing me?” Levi asked dizzily. His heart hammered inside his chest and his hands trembled with desire to touch her again.

“Yeah,” Hange laughed, not an ounce of shame. “Many times.”

“Then why—” Levi glared at her. “The last time we spoke, I wanted to kiss you.”

“I know,” Hange nodded.

“Why did you push me away then?”

“I got scared,” she answered simply and honestly. “No one has ever made me feel like this before, and I was confused about it.”

“And what changed?”

“Remember what I told you? About living my life the way I want it? Well,” Hange spread her hands. “I like how you make me feel, and I very much like you, so why should I deprive myself of that?”

“So that’s it?” Levi asked. “It’s that simple?”

Hange shrugged, her lips curving into a grin. “Yeah, for me it is.”

Levi raked his hands through his hair. “I need… to think about it.”

“Sure,” she softly patted his shoulder. Her understanding, kindness and acceptance bewildered Levi beyond words. “Take all the time you need. I’m not pressuring you into anything.”

“This thing between us— what if I agree to it?” Levi looked up at her, his eyes desperate for something he couldn’t name. “How would that even work? We probably won’t see each other again.”

“We don’t really have to say goodbye,” she mused. “We can… work together?”

“I’m an officer of the navy,” Levi reminded her.

“And I’m only a part-time pirate,” Hange said cheekily. “I mean we both work for Erwin anyway.”

“And I won’t have to give my ship to you…” Levi agreed, feeling uncharacteristically giddy. What if… what if that actually can work?

“I can help you get rid of violent criminals and—”

“And I can help you travel around the world,” he finished.

“Mm,” Hange smiled. It was the brightest smile Levi had ever seen on her face. “So does that mean you agree to cooperate?”

“Your terms don’t sound that awful,” a small smile tugged at Levi’s own lips. “I think we should seal our deal.”

And with that, he wrapped his hands around her and kissed her once again.

  ***

A part-time pirate was also an exceptional thief. However, it wasn’t Levi’s ship that was stolen.

It was his heart.

#pirate!au!!!!!! #writing it was extremely fun!!!! #btw i'll get to all of your prompts about ch132 soon!!! #at least i hope so..... #had the busiest of weeks!!!! and even busier weekend awaits #snk #levihan #levihan fanfiction #levi and hanji #levi ackerman #hanji zoe #hange zoë #levi x hange #snk fanfiction #aot