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sidekick-hero · 3 months

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Edited for a big shout out to @steves-strapcollection whose lovely OC has a little cameo here. If you want to know who Tig is, you can find out here. Spoiler: he's amazing and we love him.

Day 0

Dear Steve,

Hi Stevie,

Apparently, it's not good to "bottle up" your feelings. They say it makes drinking or drugs or any other addiction so tempting. It makes it easier to keep all that stuff inside you and let it fester until you need more and more of whatever it is that helps you cope. So the first rule of rehab: Talk, don't take.

That's a long way of saying I need to keep a journal like a 13-year-old girl with her first crush. It's either that or a daily crying session with the other "inmates" here, and I'd rather not have to tell Terry the old gossip my own tragic sob story. She already told me the life stories of two other patients here at dinner.

Instead, I decided to write to you. You're the one person I regret the most pushing away, and even though you'll probably never see this, it feels good to tell you these things now. Like a dry run. Because, baby, when I get out of here, I swear I will let you in. I won't make the same mistakes.

You will never go another day without knowing how much you mean to me.

How much I love you.

You only left an hour ago and I already miss you. I can't believe I've survived six months without you. Well, I barely did. I wish I could call you, but phone privileges are only for those who make it through their first week here.

I know we chose this center together knowing that they don't allow visitors for at least three weeks. Maybe longer if my therapist says I'm not ready. Fuck, three weeks didn't sound so bad when we talked about it, but now? In this ugly, impersonal room that smells clean but is totally clinical. You know, that mix of disinfectant and sterile air with a hint of medication lingering in the background. It sounds like an eternity and then some.

Nothing here feels comfortable or warm, and I miss your face so much it physically hurts.

But I promised myself I'd do whatever it took. For you and Wayne, for the boys and the kids.

So, day 0, the journey begins.

Fuck, I almost forgot: I'm supposed to answer three questions every day.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

See above. I miss you, that's how I am. I want this to be over. I hate that I'm here and even more that I'm the one who got me here. I feel like a fuckup. It's hard not to when I see how I've ruined everything good in my life. But then I remember the way you kissed me goodbye. The smile on your face when you told me how proud you were of me. The way you kissed my hand because you couldn't let go and whispered, "I'll see you soon," and I want to have hope.

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

Get through the day without doing anything I'll regret.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

You. That you didn't give up on me. (And the Gummi Bears you hid at the bottom of the bag, you minx. Thank you.)

Day 4

Sweetheart,

I'm not doing so well. It's hard. Who am I kidding? It sucks. My body hurts from how much I want to use. My brain is so very loud, Stevie. So, so loud. I try to remember how you managed to calm me down when my brain got like this. What helped the most was to wear me out by fucking me senseless, but that's not an option. But maybe I will try to go for a walk or even do some of those exercises you always tried to get me to do. The ones that usually led to fucking because I could never behave.

My therapist is nice. Her name is Laura, and so far she's taking everything I throw at her in stride. Talking to her feels like pulling my own teeth and I feel like shit afterwards, but I sleep better. Who would have thought, huh?

I miss you.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

Not good. I wonder if I can really do this. It doesn't feel like it right now. I'm afraid I won't make it. That I will screw up again. That if I do, it'll kill me and I'll be grateful because I couldn't live with myself if I did.

I don't want to die, Stevie.

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

Talk to the weird kid who always sits by himself during meals. He looks lost. Maybe he knows DnD.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

Still you. Every day. Wayne, for taking me in when I felt like a failure too. Unlovable. Worthless. He never stopped believing in me. Even when I gave him every reason not to. I don't know how I deserve him or you, but I am so fucking grateful.

Day 7

Fuck, I missed your voice. God. I'm sorry I lost it like that. I didn't want the first thing you heard from me after a week apart to be me ugly sobbing into the phone.

I wanted to tell you so many things. I had a plan, you know? But hearing your voice when you said, "Hi, baby," it just broke me. You sounded like you missed me too, like you were relieved to hear my voice too, and you didn't even realize how scared I was that you wouldn't.

We just hung up, but I want to call you again. Just to hear you breathing on the other side so I know you're still there. Waiting for me. Your hand still gripping mine so I wouldn't get lost.

You said, "I'll hear you tomorrow," like it was set in stone, no doubt about it. It made me feel, fuck, I don't even know. Like this is real. I didn't die on that bathroom floor, and you giving me another chance isn't some kind of hallucination or afterlife dream.

I'm rambling, sorry. Even in writing I can't help it.

One day I'll write it all down in a way that makes sense, I promise.

I love how patient you are with me. No one has ever been. I was always too loud, too distracted, too weird, too complicated, too much. But not to you.

I wish you were here to take me in your arms, it's hard not to fall apart without you holding me together.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

Better. Fucking determined to get through this and get back to you. Still scared.

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

Have a real conversation with you without breaking down on the phone. Here's to hoping. Detoxing and being sober has given me a hair trigger on my emotions, it seems.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

Your patience. Your grace. Your voice in my ear. That you still haven't given up on me. DnD, for giving me a purpose when I needed one, a tool to give others the help I so desperately wanted. The weird kid's name is Alex, and he does know DnD. We'll try to find more people for a campaign.

Day 16

Steve, baby,

I am so fucking sorry. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. I'm such an asshole. Please pick up the phone. I need to tell you how sorry I am. I didn't mean it, I was just scared. When you said that maybe Laura was right and you shouldn't come to see me next week if I wasn't ready, I thought you didn't want me anymore. That you finally got tired of holding my hand and watching me do those damn baby steps. It's been over two weeks, why am I not better? Why am I not done with this shit?

I want to be done, I swear.

Please don't leave me.

Please pick up the phone.

Please, please, please.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

Fuck this shit, what good is it if I keep hurting you?

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

Stop being a fucking asshole.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

I want it to be you, but I'm not sure I even have you in my life anymore.

Day 23

Stevie,

I'm scared. Isn't this the stupidest thing you've ever heard? A few days ago I begged to see you. Fuck, I was so desperate to see you that I almost ruined everything. I'm still sorry, I hope you know that. I know, I know, you said that it's okay and that it can't be all smooth sailing, that you forgive me. That you'll keep forgiving me as long as I keep coming back to talk to you, to explain, to show you that I mean it.

And now I've got the all clear for you to come and see me, and I'm too scared to tell you.

I'm still not the man I want to be. The man who deserves someone like you.

Laura told me that love isn't something you deserve, it's something freely given. We don't decide if someone can love us, only they do. And that I have to stop pushing people away because I'm convinced they can't love me. It's their choice and I shouldn't try to take it away from them.

I think about this a lot.

I want to let you love me, I do. It's just hard for me to understand why you would want to do that at all. It's something Laura wants to work on with me as well.

There is so much work to do. I hate to bother you with it. To make it your problem. I wanted to come in here and two weeks later walk out a new man. A better one. One you can love easily and who can love you back in a way you can understand. A man Wayne can be proud to call his son. A man Gareth and Jeff and Grant want to have as a friend, as a bandmate. A man the kids can look up to as much as they look up to you.

Laura said I should take the hand you are holding out to me. It's a decision I make every day. I took it in the hospital. I took it when you drove me here.

I should take it by letting you in, letting you see the work in progress that I am right now.

I think I will call you after dinner to tell you.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

Fuck if I know. It's a lot to feel when you've numbed your feelings for so long. I remember why I did it, but I won't do it again, I'll learn to deal with it.

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

Take you in my arms and hold you. Let myself be held by you.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

Your hand in mine. The thought of you that keeps me going. Your bravery. Dustin and Mike and Will and Lucas. They call me all the time, you know. Asking me about my first campaign here, telling me about their lives. Keeping in touch, even though I failed them almost as much as my old man did me.

Day 31

Steve, my love,

You're on your way to pick me up and I can't believe we made it here. It's not done, it probably never will be. I know that now. I have to keep working on myself and being well. But it's so fucking worth it, Stevie.

I'm glad that Laura agreed to stay my therapist even if I leave the center. I trust her. She gets me, she knows when to push me and tell me the ugly truth, and when I need time to process things.

I haven't told you yet, but I'm not going back to Corroded Coffin. At least not right now. I talked to the guys and they all agreed that it's best if I take some time for myself. And for you. For my family and friends. They actually have a guy named Tig who auditioned while I was here and they like him. He's good, they sent me a demo. They asked me if it would be okay and I said it would be. It's true, even though it hurts. I have to do this for myself.

Because I am going to give this to you later, I want to tell you something here before I lose my courage.

Steve. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I know I haven't always shown you the way you deserve. Hell, some days I certainly didn't act like it. My worst days. But I never stopped loving you. I don't think I ever will.

But I also learned to like myself a little better here. I no longer want to punish myself for things that were out of my control, like my mom dying or my dad not caring enough for me to stay. I want to be loved. I want you to love me. I want to let you.

I want to finally leave the past behind and allow myself to think about the future. And whenever I do, you're in it. You're the anchor, the epicenter of all my plans.

Stevie, sweetheart, I want to marry you.

Don't worry, I'm not proposing. This is just something I needed to tell you. Someday I want to be your husband, if you want me.

You are my past, my present and my future.

This is me taking your hand every day until I die or you stop reaching for me.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

So fucking excited to have you all to myself again. Seriously, I'm going a little crazy. I'm also hopeful about the future. And in love. I'm so fucking in love with you.

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

To start our life together without forgetting what came before.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

My second chance.

#steddie #steddie fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #rockstar eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddielovemonth #day 17 #Love is about a hand reaching out to you so you don't get lost #my writing

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thatfreshi · 9 months

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I was wondering if you could write Astarion having to tend to a very cuddly drunk female Tav. Possibly having to defend her from other people trying to take advantage of her.

This took me on a very sad adventure

TW - blood and gore, attempted sexual assault, drinking

Recommended Song: Drew Barrymore - SZA

The nice thing about no longer being on wild adventures full of tadpoles and cultists is that you and Astarion can go out drinking like normal people. While your vampiric lover thoroughly enjoys a good glass of wine, he usually stops himself at one. Perhaps he's a little paranoid about you, your safety, but he insists not to have more than one when the two of you are out together. At the house? Sure, he'll finish two bottles with you, the two of you drunkenly laughing by the fireplace, but not when danger could be afoot. You try to tell him he's just anxious, tense, that you'll be alright.

"I'd rather just make sure my love. You indulge all you want darling, I'll be fine."

In one of the more rowdy taverns, you and Astarion sit at a table off to the side, watching people get drunk and dance, bumping into strangers, sometimes fights ensue. As per usual, he nurses his singular glass. You look at him, a gleam of sadness in your eyes.

"Are you sure you don't mind? I can just skip out tonight, maybe we can just drink later, when we get back."

"Nonsense, have your fun my sweet. I insist."

You squeeze his hand.

"Alright then, I'm off to get my second... you can tell me to stop anytime!"

You tease as you slowly walk away, almost backing up into a nearby half-orc. He simply smiles at you, one of those smiles that says everything he's thinking, how he thinks you're precious, how he'd gladly never get drunk again if it meant keeping you. Years ago, he would've never given up a vice for some person. But you, you make this feeling well up in his chest, like he has to hold you close at all times, worried someone will snatch you when he's not looking. You may make fun of him for simply being a paranoid person, but you made it a million times worse.

"I'm back!"

Your voice draws out, and you return with two mugs of beer instead of just the one.

"Already going for three darling? You do remember you're a lightweight, right?"

"I'll be fine. Besides, Mr. Knight in Shining Armor is here to take me home if I throw up on someone."

You lie against his arm, starting on your second drink.

"You did eat before we left the house, right my sweet?"

You look up at him silently. He just sighs, running his hand through your hair.

"Then why did you need to go to the kitchen before we left?"

You giggle a little.

"To... pre-game!"

The laughter rings out of your throat as Astarion sighs, again, more annoyed this time.

"So you're telling me-"

"Already gettin' drunk Aster, it's a great time."

The more and more you talk, the more he realizes your words are becoming more slurred. Perhaps he should've asked before you left, made sure you at least grabbed a bite.

"Alright, you stay right here, I'm going to get you some water and a little snack."

He gets up, swiftly grabbing the two mugs off the table while you protest.

"Hey, I wasn't done with those!"

As Astarion makes his way to the bar, asking for the classic drunkard's care package, he's suddenly nervous. Had you ever been this drunk in public before? Maybe the two of you should just go home, before you somehow get your hands on any more alcohol. After thanking the barkeep for the water and some bread, he comes back through the crowd, and sure enough you have left the table.

"Gods damn it Tav."

After setting down what was supposed to be your little pick-me-up, Astarion quickly moves through the groups of people, knowing you probably just got up to dance. The bard playing tonight was quite excellent after all. However, after looking through most of the common space, you're nowhere to be found. That feeling of panic starts to well up inside of him, where he's only driven by fear. He knows you can't be far, but he also knows most of the tavern-goers here are slimy, horrific people looking for their next bag of gold. Walking through the crowd again, Astarion comes near the back entrance, and hears a conversation down one of the abandoned hallways.

"A gal like you, surprised you're here alone."

He rounds the corner, seeing you and a bulky half-elf, your arms pinned above your head. You seem nervous, but not conscious enough to realize anything is truly wrong. Astarion stalks up behind the wretched man, wrapping his dagger around the half-elf's throat.

"No so alone anymore, are we?"

Your captor surprisingly doesn't stand down.

"You won't do shit. People know me around here, important people, they'd surely have your head if something happened to me."

"Not if I hide your body well enough. And trust me, I have experience."

The two of them are un-moving for a moment as your wrists start to go numb from the pressure. You groan in pain, only causing the half-elf to grab you tighter. As Astarion goes to press his blade into the man's neck, he whips around, pushing Astarion back. Gods, he's tall. You fall back against the wall, trying to nurse the pain in your hands. As Astarion and the stranger fight, you hear the sounds of blades colliding, but your head is spinning. Perhaps he was right about the whole 'eat before you drink' thing.

You're interrupted from your thoughts when you hear a loud thump on the floor. The half-elf almost knocked Astarion out. leaving him on the ground. The stranger then turns back to you, lifting you back up from the floor, going to open the back door.

"What a find. Can't wait to enjoy you."

In that moment, while trying to get his bearings, Astarion realizes this wasn't just someone threatening you, and that disgusting feeling fills his stomach. He remembers how many times he shared his body against his will, and the adrenaline of that anger is enough to get him back on his feet. As you and the half-elf make it out the door, Astarion rushes him, tripping one foot out from under him. And then he drives his blade into the stranger's back, again, and again, and again, and again, and again. He's covered in the sinner's blood, shaking with both rage and misery. The violent display helped sober you up just a little, enough to make you realize that Astarion has killed someone behind the bar, and that it was clearly deserved. He looks up, locking eyes with you, still holding his blade down, as if the dead man needs yet another plunging strike in his back.

"Astarion?"

You ask, your voice full of uncertainty, the past few minutes still a blur. He begins to cry, putting his dagger in the ground, slowly crawling over to where you've ended up on the ground. He holds you tight, almost to the point of pain. He doesn't say anything, and you simply watch the blood pour out of the man's corpse as he grips you tight. Flooding memories cover every space of his mind, seduction, imprisonment, and most of all, Cazador's death.

"Astarion... you're hurting my arm."

You say softly, not fully aware of just how distraught he is, still far too inebriated. You're sad though, because he's sad, and you can't quite put together why. He lets go, wrapping his arms under his legs, crying into his knees. You try to comfort him, despite your state.

"It's okay, it's over now."

You don't even know what's over, but if someone is dead and Astarion is still alive, he must've ended it.

"I know."

He chokes out those two pathetic words, looking back up at you.

"We need to leave."

The survival instinct kicks in, knowing he can't explain why this man has at least five stab wounds in his back. The second one of the bartenders finds this, it'll be over.

"Come, this way, we're going to take the back alley."

Snatching up your arm, Astarion leads you through the darkness, mumbling things to himself that you can't quite hear. The two of you move quickly through the night as you stumble around behind him. When the two of you get home, he gets you some water, leading you upstairs so you can lie down.

"Are you okay?"

Such an innocent question. He knows you'll remember tomorrow, that it's not like you're blacked out or anything, just confused.

"I'll be fine my dove. Get some rest now, it's alright."

It's as if he's trying to convince himself, but it's enough for you in your drunken stupor. You curl up into the heavy blanket cast across the bed, and he leaves a kiss on your head. Not long after, you're drifting off to sleep, exhausted.

As Astarion makes his way to the bathroom, he thinks of the horrific things that could've happened, of how cruel humanity is. He thinks about how you have to be the only truly good person in all of Faerûn. He'll never get all the blood off his face, not while you're asleep. His mirror, his sun, his everything, and you were almost tainted the very same way he was.

When you wake up the next morning, Astarion isn't in bed. You try to reach out groggily, looking for that embrace, only to be left with cold sheets. Thinking back on the night before, the memories start to filter in. The drinks, the half-elf, the stabbing, and Astarion sobbing. The full picture isn't entirely there, but there's enough pieces for you to realize. That man, he found you drunk in the tavern, and tried to take advantage of you.

You stumble out of bed, walking down the stairs, rubbing your eyes.

Astarion is in the kitchen, drinking some tea, his eyes bloodshot. You don't say anything, slowly walking up to him, wrapping your arms around his waist, holding him tight. He puts his tea down and rests his head on yours.

"Are you alright my love?"

"I'm fine. Are you alright?"

You make some space again, looking up at him, holding his hands in yours. They start to shake again, rage and misery. You move a piece of hair out of his face.

"He didn't do anything to me love, I'm okay."

"Just- the thought of- I-"

He tries to hold back the tears again.

"It's okay, you can cry. It's going to be okay."

With that allowance, the permission to let go, he cries again.

"I don't ever want you to feel like that Tav, the way I felt. It's so, disgusting."

"I know, but it's over Aster. It's over now. You're okay, we're okay."

You wrap around him again, and he continues to weep.

"I love you, so much, and they didn't ruin you, I promise."

That worry, that he'll never be the same, that he's forever fractured now, that a piece of him is gone. Innocence, what a loaded word. Those who are guilty make the innocent feel guilty, and those who are guilty feel powerful, and the cycle continues, always continuing. You stand in the kitchen for a long time, letting him get all of the pain out, your shirt sleeve wet with his tears.

"I just wish I didn't have to be scared anymore."

You frown, thinking on his statement, knowing that no one is ever truly safe. You'll both live in fear forever, of those that think cruelty is accomplishment.

"I know."

It's all you can say, because you can't lie and tell him there's a day he won't have to be scared, that one day all the monsters of the world will be gone. There's nothing to learn, no moral, no mistake to fix, just pain. Pain caused by those who greed after anguish.

"Do you think I've changed? Or am I just as I was, a scared, beaten slave?"

"Gods Astarion, of course you've changed. It's the world that hasn't. We're better than them though, even if that's all we have."

Neither of you reach any resolution, nothing that makes you feel better. Instead, you sit on the sofa by the fire, watching the wood go up in flames, softly speaking about the suffering. You lie in each other's arms, sad. Misery loves company, and the two of you sit in that aura of grieving for a long time, grieving his past, grieving what could have been a kinder world. But here, in this sacred space, where feelings are free to run wild, where you can cry as much as you need, that's the only place you're truly safe. And that's alright, as long as it's together.

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #baldurs gate astarion #astarion #comfort #angst #baldur's gate 3

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fictionobsession · 3 months

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devotion

Pairing: Alastor x f!Reader

Summary: She would give anything for him.

Word Count: 1,997

Warnings: blood, canon typical violence, Alastor being psychotic

A/N: okay friends, first time writing for Al. this was not beta'd or really edited at all so if something seems weird just... assume I meant to fix it. also, this was written as a QPR, but there's a little feelings on reader's side if you squint. I'm not 100% on how in character this is for Alastor, but we tried and that's what matters right

---

She plopped onto the shitty couch and pulled her knees to her chest, looking around the shitty house where they'd been hiding out in the middle of this shitty swamp for the last two shitty weeks. The wallpaper was peeling and yellowed, the floors covered in mold and mildew, the running water only worked half the time, and, more importantly, the refrigerator was empty as of six nights prior. Her stomach rumbled just thinking about a nice juicy cut. She sighed, closing her eyes and allowing herself to sink into the daydream of food.

She knew when she'd gotten into this hobby with Alastor that there was a non-zero chance she would wind up on the run someday. She just wished they could have put it off a bit longer, had a bit more fun. She laid her head back against the rotting couch until she heard the creak of the floor near the front door.

Her eyes snapped open and her brows furrowed as she took in Alastor's hunting attire.

“Al, where do you think you're going?”

“Well, my dear, unless you feel like us both starving to death in this dismal abode, I thought I'd better go get some food.”

“Alastor. You know we've heard the dogs nearby. You can't possibly go out there without getting caught, at least until we've had a couple days where we haven't heard 'em.”

“Again, starving is not on my agenda, so we don't particularly have another choice.”

Another choice. Her face hardens as she realizes what another option might be. She stood up and crossed the room, grabbing Alastor's arm before he could open the door. “There is a way for us to make it out of this without you leaving. Or rather, a way for one of us to make it out of this.”

He hummed, and she could see the wheels turning as he put together what she was implying. “I'm not sacrificing myself for you to get away, you know.”

“I know. That's why I'm just asking you to get it over with quickly. You'll get more time, and I – well, I'll at least get to go out on my own terms. If I have to go, at least it'll be for you.”

His eyes widened just a bit, more reaction than she'd usually get, before he shrugged. “Okay. Painless it is. Not usually my style, but I think I can figure it out.”

She laughed, a genuine, full laugh. “I know, Al, and that's why we've worked out so well. But I think you could at least do that much for me.”

He pulled his hunting knife from where he had already slid it into his belt. “Are you ready?”

And with one nod, everything went black.

It seemed instantaneous, appearing in hell. She looked around, taking in the chaos around her. Literal dumpster fires, public sex, casual street murders, Hell had it all. Of course, arriving in Hell wasn't a surprise for her. You don't kill that many people and expect to get into Heaven. She wasn't even sure she had believed in the whole afterlife thing until she was experiencing it. She shrugged it off, finding the closest place with a mirror she could use for free.

Her body was... different, certainly. But intact, and honestly, she was quite happy with it. Given the various types of demons she'd seen just in her brief time there, it could've been a lot worse. She wandered, putting together a plan of action for getting herself set up in Hell. It seemed she would need income to make most things happen, which made finding a job a top priority. She also needed a place to sleep, as it seemed unsafe at best to stay on the streets.

She got a job fairly quickly at Ozzie's, though she wasn't thrilled with the outfit they made her wear for the whole thing. But it was money, and easy work, so she stuck with it. Asmodeus offered her a fairly decent rate on rent nearby, as well, so she could have done worse.

Shortly after getting settled, she started feeling pressure on her body in random locations and at seemingly random times, almost like someone was grabbing or poking her to get her attention. Occasionally she'd get hot spots, which she at first attributed to it being hot in Hell. Little scrapes and cuts would appear sometimes as well, but they always healed up quickly. It wasn't until the final time it happened that she realized what had been happening over the past few weeks.

A perfect bite imprint appeared on her forearm, accompanied by a sharp pain, and she realized it must have been an effect of Alastor in the living world. She traced her finger over the mark, which had healed into almost a scar, but not quite. It was a bit pink, but wasn't angry and fresh. She smiled a little to herself, happy that her sacrifice hadn't been in vain.

As time went on, she found herself tracing the mark when she was feeling stressed, upset, or particularly lonely. It never healed all the way, making it always a bit sensitive to touch, and served as a reminder of why she was here. The mark always made her feel closer to Al, which brought a little comfort when things got crazy.

She had managed to stay within the same few blocks that she knew were heavily policed by Asmodeus's people. However, six months into her stay in Hell, she finally had to leave her little neighborhood to buy some things for the bar. She packed her gun, a knife, and made sure she was dressed inconspicuously – the rumors about the surrounding areas were very...detailed...about what might happen to someone who ended up on the wrong side of a fight.

Unfortunately, her preparation didn't keep her from getting spotted by some Sharks outside the store as she started back toward her apartment. She tried to hurry, sliding between demons and other sinners, before slipping down an alley to attempt to lose her tail. It was too late by the time she realized it was a dead end, and the Sharks started cutting off her only entrance.

She took one step, two, keeping them in her sight until her back hit the brick wall behind her. Her hand reached for her gun, ready to pull it when the lead Shark got close enough. Their glares were paralyzing, and she could smell the smoke and alcohol on them at that distance. She felt herself start to shake, taking a deep breath to steady herself before -

“You wouldn't want people to think you're picking on those of fairer means would you?” The sound and feeling of static crackled through the air like lightning as a dark shape enveloped the opening to the alleyway. A long, thin shadow ripped through the air, straight through the lead Shark, throwing him against the side of the neighboring building.

Green sparks shone through the seemingly infinite blackness, a pair of what could only be described as antlers growing from the approaching shape. Two more tendrils, picking up the remaining Sharks and tossing them into the air like dolls. She wanted to close her eyes, but couldn't look away from the gore. Sure, she had seen a lot of violence in her time in Hell, but she hadn't seen that level of overkill in quite some time.

As the last of the Sharks fled only to get a tendril through the skull, she pressed herself as far into the corner as possible, sliding down the wall and pulling her knees to her chest. There was only the hope that the demon forgot she existed, and the knowledge that if he hadn't, she would likely be next up for second death.

The shadow approached, darkness fading as he got closer until finally it revealed a man. A tall man, with horns, but just a man, nonetheless. He was straightening out his red coat, and twirling something around in his hands as he approached. “Always good to have an excuse to let off a little steam. Always good.”

He put a hand out to help her up. As she lifted herself off the ground, he was already vaguely shaking her hand, introducing himself. “Name's Alastor, pleasure to meet you. Quite a pleasure.”

His name hit her ears about the time he caught a glimpse of her bite, and both stopped dead in the middle of introductions. She looked up, eyes widening as she realized that yes, that was a microphone, and yes, in fact, it had been quite a while since she'd seen that level of overkill, one could even say since her living days. He looked different now, sure, but as soon as she looked into his eyes, she knew that was her Al.

“Well maybe don't wait so long to come save my ass next time, eh, Al?” She smirked up at him, waiting for him to process what was happening. His nails traced the pattern of his own bite on her arm. She caught sight of his tongue tracing across his teeth, as if he was just then realizing how different they'd really become. “I bet your imprint looks a bit different now, doesn't it?” She spoke more to herself than to him as she reached to pull her sleeve down over the mark.

“Why, I should hope so, my dear. I should very much hope so. Let's see just how much it's changed then!” Without any more warning than that, he pulled her arm to his mouth and bit, hard. The new mark bled, sure, but it healed up more quickly than it probably should have, covering his old impression with his new one. His ears twitched subconsciously, his ever-present smile nearly faltering as he watched the blood drip, drip, drip down her arm. He shook himself out of whatever thoughts were distracting him rather quickly before acting like no time had passed at all since they'd been together last. “Now, I don't think I should leave you alone again. It seems to me that you still can't stay out of trouble, my dear! Come along, let me show you where I've been staying!”

“But – Hang on! Al! I've got to go to work!”

“Ah, there'll be no more need of that anymore. We'll send a notice to... whoever you're working for when you get settled.” He raised an eyebrow, practically daring her to argue. She knew, though, that she'd never gone against what he'd wanted before, and she didn't particularly want to start now. She took the elbow he'd offered her and allowed him to lead her out of the alley.

Occasionally, as they walked, she would catch sight of a shadow that seemed to be following them.

“Oh, don't mind them. They're just keeping an eye on your wellbeing. You better get used to it! Having a friend like me, why, other overlords will just be dying to get their hands on you!”

She scoffed, a look of adoration crossing her features before she tactfully replaced it with annoyance. “I'm not going to get any rest now, am I?”

“Oh contraire, ma cherie! You're going to get everything you've ever wanted and deserved. I owe you that after what you did for me up there, wouldn't you say?”

“Oh I just can't wait to show you Cannibaltown! You've got to meet Rosie, yes. You'll get along very well, very well indeed. And she makes the most delectable little treats! Maybe we'll go by tomorrow.”

As he continued rambling, she hummed approval when appropriate, watching him out of the corner of her eye with a mix of caution and longing. As he led her down streets she'd never seen before, she realized maybe this was all her afterlife had needed after all.

#alastor x reader #alastor x oc #aroace!alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #tw: blood #tw: cannibalism #hazbin hotel fic

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weird-is-life · 4 months

Note

Hello loves! I really enjoy your writing and perhaps if it’s make sense could you please wrote about Aaron x Ex!Reader requited love? If you can’t it’s fine, have a nice day!<3

Hi lovely, ty for the request💕! I don't know if this is what you had in mind, but hopefully it's at least a little good, warnings: fluff, angsty, use of pet name, like one swear word (0.8k)

It was a complete coincidence, that you bumped into Aaron. You literally bumped into him, your face colliding with his chest and by some miracle you didn't spill the tea, you'd just bought all over his expensive suit.

Aaron was just as surprised to see you as you were. And he couldn't understand the weird feeling in his chest at the sight of you.

You had a similar feeling too, a breath catching at your throat as you were looking up at his handsome, slightly older than you could remember, face.

And you don't even know why, maybe it was the shock of the whole situation or maybe it was something else in you, that made you do it, but somehow you invited him out for a coffee.

And that one coffee turns into two, then three, then four, until you loose count of them and until you're spiraling back into those old, forgotten feelings.

The realisation of it takes you by a huge surprise. You weren't expecting it. It scares you, that you're feeling this way again.

You like Aaron, but you know that Jack is his priority and he probably isn't looking for a relationship, he has enough on his shoulders already.

So with every friendly coffee date your feelings grow stronger and you can't help but to worry about it. You like having Aaron back in your life, a lot actually, but you don't think you could survive being just his friend, it feels impossible.

So in your worried state, you stop responding to Aaron's texts. Yes, you know, it's not the best way to cut contact with somebody, but you don't think you'd have the strength to explain the why to him.

Aaron goes completely crazy with worry over you. You suddenly just stop responding and he doesn't know if it's because of something he did or because something's happened to you.

He hopes, it's neither.

He tries not to fret over it, but eventually the feelings get the best of him and he finds himself standing in front of your door. He stands there longer than he should, before he finally knocks.

You appear at the door just a moment later and noticing, that it's Aaron at your door, your eyes widen.

"Aaron? What are you doing here?" you debate whether you should just close the door on him and pretend to not exist.

"I'm sorry to barge in on you like this, but....I had to make sure, you were okay. You weren't responding to any of my texts." Aaron explains, his relief, at seeing that you're okay, is huge.

You don't look as happy as he does, you look like you'd rather be anywhere else, but there.

"I'm sorry," you mumble, you don't know what more to say to him, so you keep quiet and look everywhere but him.

"I'm just glad, that you're okay," he says and you almost wince, you didn't think of how much you must have scared him with the no responding, poor Aaron.

"But what's wrong?" he asks, trying to catch your gaze.

"I-I-I....I just can't do this anymore," you whisper with sorrow.

"Can't do what, huh?" Aaron asks softly, even if he's loosing his mind.

"This. Us. I-I just can't, I'm sorry," you take one look at Aaron's crushed and confused face, before your gaze is back on the ground.

Aaron baffles, he's thought, that you had a good thing going on," Did-Did I do something wrong?"

"No, it's just....," you can't find the courage to tell him the reason why.

"What's wrong?" Aaron takes a small step towards you without thinking, he's desperate to fix whatever it is going on. He likes you and he's finally let himself to feel something like this again with you, so he is super anxious about this whole situation right now.

You sigh and irrationally, you just blurt it out, "I like you, a lot, like too much, Aaron. And-and I'd love for us to be friends again. But I don't think I could survive being just your friend. I know, you're definitely not looking for a relationship right now. And I understand, but I can't just be your friend. I'm sorry."

Aaron lets you say all of your thoughts before he reacts. Halfway through your speech his confused frown turns into a smile. Because he realises, that it's just a huge misunderstanding.

"Good," Aaron's says with a smile and now you're the one being confused. What the hell does Aaron mean 'good'? You start to almost get upset before he continues.

"Good, because I don't think I could be just your friend either," he actually grins at you.

You immediately look up at him,"what?"

"I like you too, honey. And I'm definitely looking for a relationship, if it means I get to be with you," Aaron couldn't be looking at you with more heart eyes and you think, you might melt.

"Really?" you ask shyly, too scared that you're imagining this whole thing.

"Yes, really," Aaron chuckles and reaches out for your hand," so what do you say, will you give me, us a second chance after all these years?"

Aaron doesn't have to wait for an answer for too long, because your lips are on his in a matter of seconds, answering his question clearly.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner

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coldfanbou · 1 year

Text

The Gift Of Cucking

Here we are with the piece that I was writing. A little bit of rough sex here.

Length 2K

Minju X Mreader

You sat on your bed with your wife sitting on your lap. Sullyoon kisses you softly as she presses her hand onto your chest. "I don't know why you're so into this."

"Because it's hot." She replies. What she liked was being cucked. Sullyoon had asked you to have sex with other women a few times. You only agreed this time because it was her birthday gift.

"For you, yeah." You say dismissively.

"Aren't you happy you get to have sex with beautiful women and not get in trouble?" Sullyoon replies teasingly, tracing your lips with her finger.

"I'd rather it be with you."

"I know, sweetie, but-" she says kindly before a knock at the door takes her attention away from you. Sullyoon quickly makes her way to a small closet in your room. Small slats on the upper half allow her to watch without being seen. You take a long drink from the whiskey bottle on the nightstand before opening the door. Standing there is a young woman, "Minju?" She nods her head, and you allow her inside. The young woman dressed to show off her long legs, incredibly short shorts with heels that climbed her calf with the least amount of fabric possible. A short top with a flower design and an oddly shaped cardigan. The drink starts affecting you as you stare at her lovely legs.

Minju notices and sits down on your bed, lightly pressing them together. "Do you like them?"

You gulp and nod, "They're great." A small giggle escapes her, and stares into your eyes.

"So honest. You can touch them if you want." You take a seat beside Minju and place your hand on her thigh. Her cool and smooth skin feels nice. Minju leans up and kisses your cheek before whispering, "I love when men can appreciate these thick thighs of mine. It gets me all hot and bothered. I don't think I'll be able to control myself much longer." It was an obvious tease, but it still made your cock twitch hearing those words. You instinctively squeeze her thigh, drawing an exaggerated moan from her. Minju's hand runs over your developing bulge, "You're already getting so big. You've got a monster hiding in here, don't you? I'll make sure to treat it right."

"Would you like a drink before we begin?" You ask, staring at Minju's legs.

"I'd love one." You go to pour her a drink, and while you're doing that, Minju works herself out of heels and loosens her clothing, removing the cardigan altogether. Turning back around, you see her loosened clothes and can't help but smile. As you hand her the drink, she knocks it back quickly and hands you the glass. "Let's get started," Minju says, dragging you onto the bed. She straddles you and helps remove your clothes before slowly removing hers. Minju knows she's teasing you as she lifts her halter top over her head. While her bust isn't the largest, it is more than enough. Her breasts are perky, and you reach for them almost immediately, drawing a laugh from Minju. "I guess you like every part of me." The next thing to go is her shorts. Minju gets off you for a second to do so. She faces away from you and bends over, wiggling her ass as she drops her last remaining piece of clothes. She climbs back over you, her breasts swaying as she places your cock between her legs, rubbing it with her wet cunt. Minju kisses both cheeks, leaving a light pink marking before pressing her lips against yours.

"Would you mind eating me? You'll get to feel my thighs again, and I'll even suck your cock."

"I wouldn't mind at all." You respond, and Minju switches her position. Her soft thighs press against the sides of your head. You rise and take a quick lick at her slit, making her shudder.

"Oh, so eager. I'll take care of you too." Minju takes your cock in her hand and slowly strokes it. Every moment done with precision, Minju presses her lips against the tip before swallowing it. She moves her hair behind her ear while her tongue swirls around the tip like it’s ice cream. You moan into her cunt as you begin to eat her out with vigor. Your tongue explores her insides while your hands grope and massage her thighs and ass. With a sly smile on Minju's face, she glances at the closet Sullyoon is in, not knowing that was her hiding place.

Sullyoon is naked in the closet, fingering herself slowly so as not to make a sound. She's greatly pleased seeing the action. Minju's mouth works wonders as she starts to bob her head. You can feel her lips being stretched as she tries to take in more. Her tongue licks at the sides of your cock while her hand starts massaging your balls. You feel a tightness as you get close to cumming. Wanting not to be the only one cumming, you lap at Minju's pussy, pushing far past her lips. You also start playing with her clit, rubbing it with your fingers. A high-pitched moan from Minju tells you that she loves it. She crosses her legs behind your head, her calves acting as a pillow for you. Her body shakes as she nears her orgasm; Minju's precise and slow blowjob breaks down to quick and sloppy. Her drool flows down your shaft onto your balls as you warn her you're about to cum. "Me, too. Let me taste you." She mumbles as she continues to work your shaft. You buck your hips as you cum, ramming your cock into the back of her mouth. Minju wasn't expecting it but is able to keep you in her mouth as you unload a wave a cum. She tries her best to drink it all, her cheeks puff up from the large amount you gave her, but she manages it. Simultaneously, you were tasting Minju's nectar as she pressed your head against her cunt. She was grinding on your face as you lapped all her juices. Once your orgasms come to an end, you both lay there, catching your breath.

Minju moves down your body until your cock presses against her cunt. Still catching her breath, she looks back at you, "Are you ready to fuck me?" You sit up and position yourself behind Minju. Cock in hand, you rub the head against her lips. Minju whimpers, "Come on, do it. Fuck me." At her request, you impale Minju with your cock, skewering her in it. "Oh fuck!" Minju's upper body collapses onto the bed. You pull back and slam yourself back into Minju. Her tiny pussy is stretched by your cock. The tightness feels like heaven to you; at the same time, though, you feel an anger surge through you. The fact that Sullyoon would rather watch than be with you makes you angry. You pull out and thrust back into Minju, "oh fuck, you're so big." She moans while gripping the bed frame. She tries to lift her head, but you press it back down as you aggressively thrust into her.

"You like that, don't you, you dirty whore!" You yell at Minju.

"Yes! Yes! I love your cock!" She responds as you fuck you. "I'm your whore, your dirty little whore." She repeats almost desperately. Minju's walls are tightening around your cock as you degrade her. You let go of her head and pull her arms back, keeping her body from lurching forward. You drive your cock deep into Minju as you begin thrusting at a faster pace. Your bodies slam against each other; the sound bounces off the walls in conjunction with your moans. You pull Minju's upper body up, one of your hands wrapping around her neck while the other kneads her breast.

"You're a good-for-nothing cocksleeve, aren't you, huh!?"

"Yes! I'm a good-for-nothing cocksleeve, made to take your cock!" Minju yells back as your grip on her neck tightens. You feel her pussy grow tight around your cock as you insult her again. "Fuck, I'm cumming!" She screams. Her body shakes as she cums. You release her body, letting it fall back onto the bed. You continue to skewer Minju with your cock, thrusting into the overstimulated woman. "Wait, I'm sensitive!" She cries out.

"Shut it!" You strike her ass, watching it jiggle from the hard hit. Minju yelps in response. Minju's limp body is a toy for you to use as you continue fucking her. Her moans weaken until you feel her pussy clamp down on your cock. She moans loudly as cums again.

"Please…let me rest." She moans weakly.

"Not yet; I haven't cum yet. I think I need something tighter." You pull out of Minju and press the head of your cock against her asshole.

This made Minju stir, "No, not there." You press against her asshole, pushing the head in. "Wait!" You grab onto Minju's hips and pull her onto your cock. "Oh god!" She yells as she feels you split her in two. You give her no time to adjust, thrusting into her guts despite the resistance. The anal walls squeeze down on you with incredible pressure. You groan loudly, feeling every part of your cock be handled like that. The more you thrust, the easier it is, as your cock, coated in her nectar, makes her as slick. Her groans of pain soon become moans of pleasure as she adjusts to your size.

"You're my whore, and I'm taking everything out on you." You say as you begin to come to your senses

"I'm your whore, I'm your whore…" she repeats until she goes unconscious. You feel your orgasm coming, a tightness in your balls that goes away as you fill Minju's ass with your semen. You're buried inside her ass when you cum. When you pull out, you see your cum leaking out of her gaping asshole; her ass is bright red from the earlier smack. Despite being passed out, Minju's ass hangs in the air.

Some time goes by before Minju wakes up. She presses her hand to her ass before recoiling in pain. "Ah, that hurts. I won't be able to walk or sit for weeks. Did you have to be so rough?" She falls onto her side and looks at you.

You debate on how to answer, "I lost my cool." You say.

"Yeah, I know." Minju tries to sit up but can't. Instead, she moves to lay her head on your lap. Her hand lifts your cock, "I… kind of want this again, though. I want you to destroy me." She glances at your cock before looking at you. "I am your whore after all…and it's a whores job to take cock." Minju smiles and winks at you. "Could you help me get dressed? I don't think I'll be able to. I can get home, though; I have a friend coming."

"Yeah, I can help you." After you've helped dress her, Minju leaves the house just as her friend arrives. Making your way back into your room, you see Sullyoon walking out of the closet covered in sweat.

"That was so hot. I came so many times watching you destroy her. When you fucked her ass so suddenly, I nearly screamed." She says, lifting her hand for you to see her fingers sticky with her nectar.

"Yeah…," you say dejectedly, remembering that Sullyoon would always prefer watching overdoing it.

"I'm going to shower; then I'll tell you what I was doing in there." Sullyoon gives you a quick kiss before heading off.

You sit on the bed, waiting until your phone goes off. It was a message from Minju that read, "I can't wait until our next time. How would you feel about getting dinner first? I'd love to get to know the man that took my anal virginity before our next session." A smile grows on you as you respond.

#minju smut #izone smut #kpop smut #m reader #male reader

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the-goddess-of-mischief-writing · 9 months

Text

Codename Bravo

Oneshot Summary; Price finally tells you about task force 141.

Pairing: Cpt. John Price x reader (sunshine!universe)

Rating: Mature

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: Onehsot

Word; 5.1k

Warnings; mentions of abuse/torture, mental health discussion, PTSD-triggers, kind angsty with fluffy ending ngl

Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing

A/N: This turned out much more angsty than I'd imagined, but I think it progressed their relationship in a good way.

SUNSHINE UNIVERSE MASTERLIST

"Love", you answer John's call with a hum from his en-suit, massaging in the last product of your morning skin-care routine. Your eyes flicker to the doorway in the mirror when he steps into it, leaning against its frame. His hands dig into his jogger's pockets as he does.

You fan your face, trying to help the moisturiser dry quicker, greeting him with a small smile.

John's hair has grown longer, not as neatly chopped during his home visit. He's probably racked a hand through it as he left the bed or pulled on his jumper, trying to neaten his bedhead, concerning it seemed to have hastily been swept upwards and to the side.

"Have any plans today?"

"M'no". You turn, blue eyes following you when you walk forward. As you stop before John, you raise your hands, brushing your fingers over his face to gently rub any residue cream onto his skin. His nose scrunches, instinctually closing his eyes, making you chuckle.

"Done with your onslaught?" John asks when you drop your hands and he cracks his eyes open.

You peck his lips, mindful that your still dewy skin doesn't come in contact with his. "Yes". You smile, walking back to the sink to wash your hands. After flicking the access water from them, you reach for the towel hanging beside his.

"Thought about somethin'", he begins and your eyes find him in the mirror as you cock a brow. "Think I'm ready". Your hands halt their movement of running between the fabric. You look over your shoulder, holding the towel rather than drying your hands.

"You mean?"

John nods. "Have thought about it and I've decided, wanna talk to you about... everythin'".

"Yeah? Alright", you quickly dry your hands and turn to him.

It's been two weeks since the visit at the pub that brought not only a guy trying to hit on you but the ordeal Ghost helped you through. You hadn't brought it up afterwards. Or at least you hadn't asked John about what he would consider sharing, not wanting to pressure him.

Your man had, however, expressed how much it meant to him. Not necessarily through words, but he spent considerably more time with you, if it so was while cooking or if you did any routine of yours. He also touched you more, arms anchoring around your waist at each given opportunity, kisses pressed more frequently to your forehead, lips or neck, a hand always resting upon your skin when you sat together watching a movie or doing your separate things.

But you hadn't talked about it. The incident, if you may. You wanted to, yet left it up to John to decide the when. And that seemed to be now.

You walked over to him, hands settling on his waist as you looked at him. "What do you say about taking it downstairs? I can make us a cup of tea?"

His smile was warm when he nodded, agreeing to the idea with a kiss to your hairline, aware of your freshly fixed skin.

You try not to work yourself up. Try not to imagine what John might tell you. And still, there's a jittery feeling in your body disturbing the otherwise slow air of a weekend morning.

You can't help but look forward to John opening up about his work, filling the gaps he intentionally left vacant and those you didn't want to speculate about. At the same time, what should you expect?

Your fingers tap against the kitchen counter as you watch the kettle boil, hot steam billowing from the opening. Your eyes fall to the little plastic bit still pushed down and shining blue. Soon done, you think.

You're so focused on the kettle that you don't even notice the man who slides up alongside you until an arm circles your waist and breaks your attention.

Glancing to your right, you find John standing there.

"Nervous?"

"I... yes, no?" Your brows furrow. "I just don't know what to expect", you shrug, offering him a smile.

His blue eyes search yours, head tilting. John gently tugs at your waist so your body angles towards his. When it does, his other arms also circle your waist. Your hands naturally fall to his abdomen, sneaking under the knitted sweater he's wearing. Even the walking heaters seem unable to withstand the late autumn temperatures that creep into his house.

"Never asked if you felt ready to talk about it. If you don't, we can take it another time?"

"Been ready for a long time, John, don't worry". You shake your head to dissolve any worry of his. "Just don't want to make you uneasy by reacting badly or something", you admit sheepishly.

The military has ingrained many things in him, minor and not-so-minor ones. Some you know, others you don't. One of the ones you'd picked up on was that he always worried about others before himself. Captain, your mind whispered each time you noted it. He was used to caring, leading others, shouldering their safety. You didn't need to know about the things he guides his subordinates through to admire him for it. And yet, you knew that at the moment, John worries more about you than himself.

And the fact is he shouldn't. John was the one who needed to become comfortable enough with even the thought of speaking about anything concerning that part of his life. You can only imagine it hasn't been easy despite not noticing he's behaved differently. So, for him to finally take the step of fully explaining things to you? You didn't want him to regret that choice just because you've grown unsure of yourself.

It wasn't crippling doubt that crept into your bones while you've been waiting for John to determine when he's ready. Even so, you've replayed what happened at the pub, wanting to know more about what may be the cause. You'd felt powerless then, not knowing what was happening or how you could help. You haven't thanked Ghost. But, you're grateful for how he'd stepped in, not knowing the result of the situation otherwise.

"If you're expressionless the whole time, that would worry me more", John chuckles, keeping your gaze with a soft expression in his eyes. "Don't worry too much about your reactions. I want you to tell me if it gets too much or if you have any questions. Can you do that for me, eh?"

"Promise", you nod. He smiles, ducking his head to press a lingering kiss to your lips, pleased with your reply.

What breaks you up is the tick of the kettle, signalling the water has reached the simmering temperature adequate for a cup of tea.

"Go sit down. I'll bring these over". You leave another quick peck on John's lips before stepping out of his arms towards the two awaiting cups.

"Spoilin' me this mornin', are you?" You roll your eyes as he presses a kiss against your temple when he passes.

"Rather making you comfortable", you look over your shoulder as John heads to the living room. That softness in his eyes grows warm, the crows-feet in the corner of them becoming more prominent as he returns your smile.

Preparing the tea, you catch John rummaging behind you. You put in the teabags and a dash of milk in John's cup. As you walk to put back the carton in the fridge, you throw a look in his direction.

The man who always prefers milk in his tea when he's home, concerning it's not a luxury he always gets when deployed, is currently tending to a fire. He's kneeling before the fireplace, apparently having had an easy time with the wood and matches as the flames flicker with an orangey colour, lightening his face in a warm glow.

Returning to grab the cups of tea, you head over to join him.

You hadn't envisioned this being how your morning would play out, but the crackling fire adds to the relaxing atmosphere and eases whatever nerves you previously harboured.

When you stop by the couch, John has left the fireplace and walked over to join you. You hand him a cup before settling down on the plush pillows with your back leaning against one of the armrests. He follows, naturally sitting down only to lift your legs and shuffle closer, draping them over his lap once comfortable.

You momentarily place your mug on the coffee table, reaching for the blanket thrown over the backrest close to your head. You unfold it over the two of you, John accommodating your shuffling by raising his mug to not spill any of the liquids inside. Not until you settle down again with your cup in hand does he cock a brow at you.

"Cosy?" The firewood crackles and you tilt your head sideways against the couch's back, hands clutching the warm mug in your lap.

"Yes", you answer with a smile.

You raise your cup, sipping the warming blend as you watch John, waiting for him to start talking. But he sits in silence, one hand repeatedly skimming up and down your blanket-covered shin. His eyes had shifted to the fire. The flames lighten his eyes, making them appear as if the blues in them are alive. From how he keeps quiet, your brows knit together.

"If you have changed your mind, that's alright". Your voice is gentle, reminding John you're taking this at his preferred speed. His eyes return to you, brows raised.

"No", he waves his hand dismissively, holding his mug steadily on your legs with the other. "Just... gatherin' my thoughts. Don't really know where to start". John's sentence is a short chuckle followed by a shake of his head. He knocks his head backwards, resting it against the couch's upper ridge, tilting his face towards you.

You hum in return. "One day, you can maybe tell me your backstory. But today, it's enough to brief me on things you consider essential to know".

This time, John's chuckle is genuine as he nods. His fingers tap against the mug in a quick rap of each digit beside his thumb hooked in the ear.

"You know I'm a Captain, part of SAS". He brushes past the things you already know. "But, there was a reason I said we ain't technically affiliated with the army the first time we met and ain't only because of bein' special forces".

You remember the initial reluctance and a later lighthearted but brief description of their profession. "How so?"

"You were onto it with that clever mind of yours. There's a reason we spend so much time together". John's head cocks to the side and you understand he refers to the absent presence of Ghost, Johnny and Kyle. "I handpicked the lads".

Your head cocks. "For what?"

John exhales heavily, eyes flickering away as he raises his mug to his lips. He sips the tea, leaving your question to hang in the air until he turns to face you again, gaze locking with yours.

"Taskforce 141, a multinational coalition comprised of various top members from special forces specialising in counter-terrorism. The British SAS is one of them". Your eyes widen, that you hadn't anticipated.

It wasn't a light fact that John dropped on you. It wasn't 'I'm just in the army' or 'A soldier in the SAS', both of which you would've understood why he didn't want to go about mentioning to every soul he meets. But this? Captain in a task force only assembled by special forces? It explained a whole lot more.

"Whatcha thinkin'?" You blink out of your stupor, not noticing your eyes have dropped until you raise your gaze to John's again.

He was tapping his mug, watching you closely, gauging your reaction.

"Just... that it makes sense", you chuckle, briefly glancing down at the mug in your hands before your eyes find his. "I hadn't guessed it, but at the same time, I'm not surprised".

He smiles at that. "Said it, too clever for the pretty facade". You shake your head at how he squeezes your leg, the side of his mouth tugging upwards.

"Despite that, I have a question", you return. John nods, encouraging you to ask. "You mentioned you handpicked them. Feels like you need a high-level authority for that?"

"I am a Captain", he quips, making you nudge his thigh in amusement. Both of you knew that might not be the sole requirement to choose who gets selected for such a task force. "Had a part in launchin' the 141 a few years back, too many loose ends for my likin' that ought to be tied up, which makes me highly involved in who gets picked".

You make an ah sound before speaking. "So the others, why them?"

"The lads have all advanced within the SAS. I met Ghost when he first enlisted and worked with him a fair share while he rose through the ranks. Soap and Garrick, I discovered later but still early on in their careers, came to work with the latter a lot when he became a sergeant", John explains. You can't help your smile. He's talking proudly of them.

"So you lot are the core of it then?"

The corner of John's lips twitches upwards as he hums. Before answering, he raises his mug to his lips. "Can say that, at least of the British branch", he says once he swallows his tea.

"What other branches are there?" He sends you a look, one that isn't hard to decipher. "Let me guess, classified?"

He hums an affirmative in return. "Some things are, even to immediate family. Other times, it's more of a safety thing. The less you know, the less valued you are".

Your brows furrow. Something about how John said it made an uneasy feeling infiltrate the air.

"What do you mean by that?"

"In our line of work, there's a reason not everyone entertains a life outside the base, not more than a functionin' one. Some view attachments as dangerous".

You swallow. "Why?"

"We soldiers are a different kind, ought to be", he shrugs. "But, we also deal with desperate and dangerous people, and when those people also want power, it can go south quickly". John's voice is even, factual, as he explains the circumstances. "Some don't dare evolvin' civvies with that".

"What's your view on that?" You watch him closely.

"I'm sittin' here with you, love". John's smile was gentle as he rubbed your shin over the blanket. "Got worried?"

"For a second, yeah". Accompanying your reply is a sigh of relief.

He offered you a gentle smile and squeeze of your leg. "Bigger chance you'll leave me".

Your frown at him. "Why would you say that?"

"If you haven't noticed, I am an old man in the military." John chuckles, but the sound grates your ears.

Despite you teasing him of the occasional back pain or just for amusement, John isn't old. You'll remain firm on that belief. So what his sentence insinuated didn't sit right with you.

"Sure". It's more you filling the silence than affirming anything as your thoughts process. John's lightheartedness is a poor attempt to mask how his eyes avert from yours after the sentence. It's fleeting but enough for you. "Is that something you worry about? Genuinely?"

John looks momentarily taken aback. His brows shoot high on his forehead, lips dropping from the mug's rim a second before he lowers it. He looks at you through his peripheral before facing you fully, gaze locking with yours. He must see it then, the same seriousness contorting your features in concern as what previously laced your voice.

"Have passed my mind, yes", he exhales the truth. Sinking further into the couch, the hand at your leg stills. He looks forward, eyebrows setting while his tongue swipes over his bottom lip.

"Do you believe that, John? That that's a reason I would leave you for?"

"Enough of reason in my ears, love".

"Then, well, you're going deaf". Blue eyes find yours. "I won't leave you for a reason that ain't true. Sure, you've been a soldier for long enough you've become a Captain. But, in my book, you're definitely not an old skeleton sitting on an army base".

"Might as well be. The shit we see-". John shakes his head. "It just sticks with you sometimes, hollows you out, s'hard to let go and not always the easiest for others to handle".

"Is that what you feel like?"

"I feel like I don't want to burden you too much with it". John rubs your leg again, smooth motions up and down. For your sake or his, you don't know. "If not for what happened at the pub... would probably not have this conversation already. Afraid it might scare you off".

You clench and unclench your fingers around your mug, playing with its ceramic ear as you watch its liquid contents swirl. There's a part of you that shrinks at that. You feel bad.

Did he think you would walk out the door the second everything isn't sunny days? Was that why he needed time to think about telling you?

A hand enters your vision seconds before a gentle nudge against your chin raises your head. Blue eyes meet yours and you see how John has leaned closer.

"Remember, speak your mind", he gently reminds you of your earlier promise.

You sigh with a nod, and he drops his hand to your thigh. John remains near when not retreating to his previously upright position.

"I hope you didn't feel forced to have this conversation".

"I felt ready". John doesn't hesitate when he answers.

"So why say we wouldn't have had it if not for what happened?"

"Can't say the military is known for lettin' you open up about how you feel", he exhales. "So it's hard to do it other times as well, despite suspectin' you wouldn't shun it after the pub".

You can't help but think about what happened at Marissa's place. How John initially had been so adamant about repressing what triggered him, his frustration and shame for reacting like he did. You do understand it better now. Nonetheless, a gnawing sensation nestles in your skull when you learn that if not witnessing what you did, John would probably have continued to bottle things up.

He'd mentioned how he hadn't let go of something from his last deployment, how something still was fresh enough to rip open like an invisible wound. You didn't know the things you now do back at the pub. Despite this, it hurt you that John thought he had to carry that weight himself.

"I know we talked about how hard it was for me while you were away when you returned. But we never-". You bit your lower lip. "I never asked how you got on, not more than briefly. I know it probably would've been too soon to ask then, but concerning what happened at the pub, did everything really go to plan?

He swallows harshly, giving you a curt nod. "Can't tell you much... but said it went well, and it did. We pursued some leads that brought us to somethin' we've been lookin' for". John turns his head, looking into the fire as he continues. "Also found somethin' we hadn't anticipated, the thing that held us up", he motioned with his fingers as if referencing the conversation you had over the phone the day he returned to base from two months of no contact.

And then, he grimaces, lips curling into a thin line as his hand comes up to drag across his beard.

"The men we were after grew paranoid, believin' someone sold us information concernin' how close we followed them. They weren't mistaken, but they looked in the wrong place. We found a base with civilians, beaten up quite badly. All of them...". He lets out a painful huff and a single shake of his head. "All of them were women".

The corners of your lips fall downward, a heavy feeling settling in your chest. A glum sensation, almost tasting round and cold in your mouth, washes over you. You feel for John. You feel for what he witnessed.

You sit up, placing your mug on the coffee table as you bring one of your legs from his lap, crossing it in front of you so it rests along his thigh. You reach forward, placing your hand upwards on John's leg, letting him be the one to initiate contact.

You don't have to wait long before one of his hands lands on yours, his fingers intertwining and giving you a single squeeze.

Relief washes over you when John doesn't pull away, likewise when he turns to look at you. Even though he must have been distant, reliving the moment he described, the faraway look previously evident creating the perfect blank slate to reflect the fire as if mirroring his memories. He's with you now.

"The lad at the bar... it triggered the memory of when we found them".

It isn't hard to follow the same path John's mind must have. The man. His raised hand. You. Those civilians. Even you could see the eerie resemblance to what he witnessed not more than a month before during his deployment.

Now, both your hands hold his, cradling it as you rub delicate circles with your thumbs before you raise it to your lips. You press a soft kiss over his knuckles, right atop the little strips of silver marring his skin.

"I understand". You murmur against John's hand, leaving another gentle kiss before you drop it to your lap, continuing the soothing motion of your thumbs.

John sighs, leaning forward to let this mug join yours on the table. When he settles back into the couch, he turns his body towards you. You shuffle to accommodate as one of his legs joins yours on the couch. Even so, the knee of his bent leg rests partly on top of yours. You don't mind the weight, not when it makes John feel closer to you.

He lets you hold his hand while he worms his other beneath the blanket and your joggers, seeking the slightest bit of your skin to graze as he readjusts your leg, now resting closer to his hip.

"Sometimes it just feels like it never stops, so neither can you. It's hard to go home, take time off and rest when you know they don't do the same. Far too easy start thinkin' about, and then, it can overwhelm you". You nod, showing you understand. "S'what happened at the bar".

"Should I assume it's stress-related?"

"Somethin' along those lines. I don't struggle with the disorder type. Med-evals cleared those. But despite years in the field, some missions are always harder to let go of immediately after comin' home". John admits. Now, his thumb draws circles into the skin between your thumb and index finger.

"How does it- did it feel?" You ask with a tilt of your head, referring to the only instance you can relate to. He'd hastily explained it in the confines of Marissa's office but must still have been high-wired from the sensations.

John's brows draw together and he purses his lips, possibly contemplating how to answer.

"Feels like gettin' stuck in your head when you shouldn't, like too many thoughts which provokes adrenaline. But, it's no productive thing, mind battlin' itself as you know it's not needed while still gettin' the injection. Feels like a quiver here-", John points to the spot not far from the top of his ribs, right between his pecks. "-fight or flight bein' on the verge of explodin' and already fadin' all the same, an unsettlin' feelin'. At the pub, there were too many connections, similarities with our mission".

"You know, I may be good at reading people, which helped me notice something wasn't right that night, but that only helped me so much. I didn't connect the dots, I guess because I couldn't place what was happening, never seen it before". You shrugged, defeated.

"It's not a big shift for the eye, but it's noticeable if you know what to look for", John explains before adding, "The more you're around it, the quicker you notice".

"I... I need to admit, John, I think it was a long time since I felt so helpless", you confess, head dropping forward as you remember how it felt having John standing there seeming so far away. "I could do nothing but watch Ghost help you, not knowing what was happening. I felt so out of my depth".

You feel a hand on the side of your neck then, raising your face with the help of the thumb notched beneath the hinge of your jaw. As you lift your eyes, you catch how John had ducked his head. He didn't need to say anything this time for you to speak your mind.

"I tried to help, but it didn't...". You trail off as the image of John shying from your touch while accepting Ghost's flashes on your frontal lobe. The image creates a lump in your throat that you try to swallow.

"Please, love", he coaxes you, brows knitting together upon your grimace. Disliking the pleading look on John's face, you release an unsteady breath before you speak. "It kinda hurt seeing how you reacted to Ghost compared to me". Despite trying to keep your voice strong, it grew small at the end of the sentence.

Something flickers in John's eyes as you stare back at him, something that creates a fogginess hiding away the glint in those blues.

"I understand, but know that I didn't want to". John soothes, voice the most delicate you ever heard it. "I saw you, heard you...though when your brain slowly diverts to the same thought pattern as on the field... it gets hard not reactin' like that. With all the time I've spent with the lads, you grow used to differentiate them from others".

You must have done something that suggested his explanation wasn't what you wanted to hear as panic flashed deep in his eyes. His lips part, probably about to apologise, either for his wording or something else.

"I know I can't fault you. I know that. I'm not upset about the fact". You intercept before John has the chance to say anything. "I understand that Ghost, fuck, even Kyle and Johnny know what you're going through and can catch onto it quicker to help you out of it. I understand there's a different bond between the lot of you that I can't copy. It's just that I want to know how I can help you if something like that happens".

John swallows, eyes flickering between yours. "You're not wrong, but I don't want that kind of bond with you when I have a different kind".

John couldn't be more glad you didn't enlist. If not for the selfish reason that he probably never would've met, and even if so, entertaining a relationship would've been difficult, maybe even inappropriate. Then, because he knows the army robs any man or woman enlisting from their former self and future normalcy as if permanently hooked up to IVs with terrors or troubled insides.

"Love, I want you to know that you give me something they do not. You give me peace". John raises your intertwined hands to his lips, pressing a kiss against it. The bristles of his beard tickle your skin when it drags across his chin as he drops it into his lap. "You might not steer me through those episodes like Ghost can and did. What we know- what we do, is the same as in the field when softness is no alternative, when momentarily reprieve is the only choice. But, you can help ease me through them-".

"But how, John, how do I do that? I tried to touch you, but you flinched away. You didn't respond when I talked to you and gave me no sign you heard me. My options were running low, if not non-existent". The words tumbled out of your mouth as you tried to make your point through the desperate emotions the conversation roused.

"I-". John stops himself, momentarily looking to the side. He takes a deep breath that he exhales before facing you again. "I can't swear it's a one-solves-all remedy. But, talk to me at first. If you notice touch doesn't work, set it aside for a while and when you try again, begin with non-critical places. Today's a good example. Take it slow, be gentle, leave it as open as possible for me to take the step", he jiggled your intertwined hands.

You bite your lip, looking at your hands. "I guess today was easier because I knew this may be a touchy subject and no matter what kind, you can't brute-force those. Last time took me off-guard", you breathe out, eyes returning to meet the blues already watching you.

"M'not holdin' it over you. Just grateful you didn't tuck tail and run".

"I wouldn't do that". John watches you, scanning your face with a soft look, replacing the look of self-doubt and worry now fading from his eyes.

His left hand drifts to your cheek, thumb brushing your cheekbone before he beckons you closer. You follow his request and he meets you with a kiss.

His fingers curl into the back of your head, massaging with slight presses into your neck muscles. You exhale through your nose, falling further against him. Knowingly or not, he helps work the nerves out of your body with the gentle pressure changes.

John is the one who pulls away, but you don't mind when he keeps himself close by letting your forehead rest against one another.

Your eyes are still closed when you speak. "Thank you for opening up".

"All because of you, love".

"No need to flatter me". You lean away, smiling kindly, voice light. John's eyes flutter open not long after, his blue eyes happier as they shine in a way you hadn't seen before.

"I'm serious". John's hand presses against the side of your face briefly. "You help me relax, slow down the thoughts, make me feel present". John's tone is steady, eyes never averting from yours as he speaks.

A warmth rises in your chest, blooming to envelop your ribcage. Your cheeks gradually strain from how your smile slowly unfolds, from a pout to pressing your lips together in a line that soon bows upwards. The way it does when words are too sweet and immense to accept quickly.

The slow unfoldment mirrors the feeling in your chest and you can't help how the weight of emotions turns your words into something between a choke and a laugh. "Oh, John".

Your hand lifts to his, holding it as you lean into his touch. Some of your fingers sneak beneath his hand, resting against his rough but warm palm, while your thumb settles on top of it. As your head tilts against the couch's backrest, it traps your hands close. You can't move your thumb much, but you draw a circular motion into his skin the best you can.

You gaze back at John. There are slight creases beside his eyes, those crows-feet. At the moment, the smile tugging his lips brings them forth. The blue of his irises seems to shine, to be alive. They're glittering in a way that isn't entirely thanks to the fire but from something inside.

You want to spew everything welling in your chest. How grateful and proud you are of John. How much this conversation mean to you.

Yeah, you wanted to tell this man all the feelings he roused, feelings you hadn't felt in a long time, if ever.

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zsupika · 3 months

Note

Hello! How are you doing? :D

I was wondering if I could request some headcanons or even a little drabble/fic, whatever you prefer, for Zayne! Something with a reader that's a lawyer, if that's okay. The reader is aloof and diligent and quite strict in her work, takes it really seriously and at first she butts heads with Zayne's cold demeanor but later they realize they have feelings for eachother. Anything on this idea is fine, just as long as you enjoy doing it! Thank you for your time either way ❣️❣️

Zayne x Lawyer!Reader

A/N: thank you very much for the request! I'd love to write this. I haven't written a proper fic in a while so please excuse me if this isn't good :> this is also wayy longer than I expected lol so enjoy? It might be a little rushed and cringy-ish... so yeah be aware of that

After a long day of work the only thing that you wanted to do is sit in a café and relax. Too bad that all the tables were already filled with people. Sighing, you spot one seat in a booth that isn't filled, although it is right across a rather stern-looking guy. Contemplating what you should do, you decided to just ask him if you could sit at his table. After all there was really nothing else for you to do. You walked up to him, holding your head up high, hoping to come across more confident.

"Hello, I was just wondering if the seat across from you was taken?" you asked him while pointing towards the empty space. The man, not even looking up at you, simply shook his head while returning to drink his coffee. His lack of words took you aback at first but you decided that it's best not to think about it for too long. You quickly thanked and sat down. His rudeness made you slightly regret even asking but you tried to shrug it off. After all you still had some paperwork that you wanted to finish. It was related to work so you had to finish it up quickly to be able to go home before it gets dark outside because you had to bring it back to your workspace before going home. After ordering a drink and a piece of your favorite cake, you got to work. You noticed the man across from you glance at your papers every once in a while. He looked slightly interested. Although your impressions of him was that he was rather rude, you decided to attempt to make some small-talk with him. At least until your order was finished.

"So, are you in this café very often? It's the first time I've seen you here and I come here every afternoon while I'm on my break." you pointed out while looking into his eyes. His look felt really cold and you wondered what a guy like him was doing in a café. It just seemed a little out of place considering that the café had a cute-ish aesthetic and he was, more or less, the opposite..

"No,", he exclaimed in a calm voice, softer than you imagined, "I come here pretty often. Although I'm very busy with work lately, this not being able to come here as often.".

You asked him what he does for work. After he said that he works as a doctor, your order came to the table, interrupting your conversation.

".. I'm a lawyer. There's some paper I want to finish. That's why I came here. I love this café. It's calm and usually not as filled as it is today. I apologize if I bore you with my talking but I just feel that it'd be impolite for me to just ignore your presence after basically stealing your seat." you chuckle.

"It's not boring me." he simply answered.

"I'm Y/N by the way." you said while taking a sip of your drink and further working on your papers.

"Zanye." he exclaimed. You smiled up at him. After this short interaction, you're conversations didn't resume. A few people left the café after some time and you considered switching seats to a booth without Zayne. But him presence somehow made you feel at ease. Even though you though he was a little rude at first, he wasn't. At least not too much. Finishing up your work, drink and cake you didn't see a point in staying any longer. Zayne was reading some news article while sipping on a coffee. You got up and went out of the café. You figured saying goodbye would be a little unnecessary, considering that you haven't talked at all after that small interaction. But you could've sworn you saw his gaze follow you all the way to the door.

It was snowing outside as you looked out of the window. It was Sunday, the weekend. Outside you saw people from all around coming together and walk or do other activities. Families, friends and partners. You had to admit that you were slightly jealous. You yearned for a person to stay by your side. After moving out and being on your own, the loneliness that came over you was hard to ignore. The only time it went away was at the day in the café with Zayne. Zayne, you could get his name out of your head. What was it about him that intriguing you? You barely even talked with each other. But there was no time to think about stuff like that, for now it's time to work on a new lawsuit. It was quite the tough one at that. You didn't have anything to do so you just decided to work on it on the weekend as well. It was pretty much the only thing you could do. Rotting in bed or doing nothing at all simply wasn't an option for you. There was no way you'll ever get to the point of not prioritizing work. It's what truly matters in your eyes. The rest can wait.

On your way home from the office you stumbled across a cute-looking bookshop. You figured it would hurt to look into it for a little while. Walking from isle to isle you couldn't find anything that was worth reading. After looking out of the glass door of the bookshop you spotted a familiar looking figure in the distance. Zayne. You couldn't form any proper thoughts when you noticed him walk towards the shop. You quickly walked towards the back of the shop. But why? What was the point of you doing that. It's not like he's gonna take a notice of you if he were to see you.

At least that's what you thought. In truth, Zayne couldn't stop thinking about you all week. When he saw you walk into the café he was mesmerizing by your beauty. When you spoke to him with your kind voice, he almost couldn't contain his excitement. He was cursing himself all week for not getting your contact info or anything really. He only had your name. Y/N. The only think he could think about. He went to the café every single day after that, hoping to see you, no matter how exhausted he was. But it was no use. It's like you just disappeared. His desire to see you again grew bigger and bigger by the minute. While walking home after work he noticed your figure in a small bookshop on the side of the street. He quickly walked towards the shop without giving it a second thought. Truthfully said, he had no clue how to approach you or what he was gonna say when you two were face to face again.

While he walked into the bookshop it looked like he was searching for something or someone. It made you feel slightly anxious to see him like this. Maybe he was looking for him girlfriend. All of those thought flooded your brain, so you didn't hear him walk closer to you once he spotted you. He stood right next to you, facing the bookshelf in front of you two. You gave him a slight side-stare and surprisingly make eye contact with him for a second, making you jump slightly. So he did notice you, you thought. You quickly grabbed a book and shoved your nose into it, trying not to make this whole situation too awkward.

Zayne saw you so intriguing into the book. When he saw you stare at him, he thought you might say something to him, making him hopeful. But it didn't seem like you even took proper notice of him. You probably didn't even remember him. He felt stupid thinking that you cared as much as he did. But why did he even care? He couldn't figure it out. There was just something about you that made him be drawn to you. You were like a magnet to him. You made him feel at ease. How was he supposed to deal with such a situation.. He couldn't find the right words to start a conversation.

You realized that staring into the book without actually reading it was making you look more awkward than you thought so you decided to close the book and put it back onto the shelf. You've waited for a couple minutes but he didn't say anything at all. He barely looked at you or so you thought. There was no point in waiting any longer in your eyes, so you moved around him and walked towards the exit.

Before thinking properly Zayne decided to rush after you. He couldn't let you walk away another time. He grabbed your arm as you walked out. His action made you jump but as soon as you saw that it was him you calmed down. He looked into your eyes thinking of a way so tell you that he wants to get to know you better, he wants to spend time with you and he wants you to feel the same way. You two stared at each other for some moments before you took the chance to say something to him.

"Zayne." you called out. He softly nodded, signalizing you that he was listening to you, still holding your arm and looking deep into your eyes. His look was quite intense and intimating but it didn't bother you at the moment. "I'm sorry I didn't say anything to you inside the shop. I... I didn't really know if you recognized me to be honest. I thought you forgot about me." you said while awkwardly chuckling. You didn't know if he felt the same way that you did and you had a hard time reading him. Just what was he thinking..

Zayne couldn't wait anymore. In his thoughts the only thing that mattered at the moment was you and the fact that he wanted to be with you. There was something tying you two to each other. He wanted more of you.

"Y/N. I didn't forget you. How could I possibly forget you. You have been all that's Ben on my mind for the last week. The moment I saw you walk into the café, I was mesmerized by your beauty. Your presence makes me feel at ease and I want to get to know you more. I don't know what it is about you but you drive me crazy. I am a rational person but when I see you, I can't help but follow my heart instead of my head." his breath is quicker than before and it's the first time you heard him say so much. You were staring at him, baffled. You were hoping to get some kind of confession but you didn't expect that he felt so strongly about you. It made you flustered. You nodded at his words and replied that you felt the same way and that you'd like to get to know him better.

Hearing your answer made him feel so relieved. He moved his hand from your arm towards your hand and he took your hand into his. Your hands now intertwined.

"Well then I suppose I'm allowed to do this now. I've been yearning for this moment."

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #zayne love and deepspace #zayne x mc #lads zayne #zayne x reader #zayne x you #zayne #lads #lnd x reader #lnd zayne #Lnd x y/N

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dragon-kazansky · 8 months

Text

Spirit of the sea

Izzy Hands x Reader (GN)

You were a member of Blackbeard's crew long ago. Then you became a ghost story. Izzy Hands only sees you in his dreams these days, until he sees you for real when investigating Stede Bonnet. This sets him on a rollercoaster of emotions between you and what his captain is doing.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Warnings: Swearing. Mostly Izzy, sometimes you, but mostly Izzy. Angst too.

Chapter Five - Rocky waters

♡♡♡

We've been almost a fortnight aboard the Revenge... and I'm beginning to suspect that Edward nas no intention of ending Stede Bonnet's life.

If I didn't know better... I'd say he's somehow become seduced by this imbecile.

You catch Izzy writing in his journal as you walk past his cabin. He had been rather quiet the past couple days, at least as far as you were concerned anyway. He hasn't noticed you in the doorway. You smile at the sight of the wooden sparrow on his desk. You knew he would like it.

You know that the longer Izzy is aboard this ship, the worse it gets for him. You've kind of adapted to the way the crew do things round here. It's a change of pace from your days on Blackbeard's crew.

As Izzy scribbles away, you decide to interrupt gently. With a soft knock to his already open door, you smile as he lifts his head to look at you. He snaps his journal shut and drops it beside him on his cot.

"What do you want?" He asks, trying to look annoyed by your interruption, but you can see through him.

"Thought I'd come check on you. Everything good?"

"Just peachy," he let's out an exasperated sigh. You chuckles softly as step into the room with one foot.

"We'll be off this ship soon. Sailing back aboard the Queen Anne leaving ruin in our wake. Doing things we used to do."

Izzy stares silently into space at the thought.

You step a little closer to his bed and take a seat. You can see how tired he is. The man never seems to stop: always working, never resting.

"When was the last time you slept?" You ask him.

"Last night."

"All night?"

He eyes flicker up to meet yours. He looks less than impressed, but he also can't hide anything from you. The sigh that escapes his nose tells you enough.

"I know you hate it here, and that you want Blackbeard back so we can return to our ship and our life, but you also need to give it time, Izzy."

"It's been a fucking weeks."

"I know, but surely he has a plan. He's our Blackbeard."

"That's the problem," Izzy starts. "I don't think he's our Blackbeard anymore. I think he's been seduced by Bonnet."

"Seduced?"

"Last night... last night I was up on deck. I could hear them. They were... I'm pretty sure they were fucking."

"Out in the open?" You ask, wide eyed.

"Sounded like it."

"Ew, Izzy, why were you listening to them?"

"It wasn't on purpose!" He groans. "I think Edward might be... in love with this guy."

You fall silent as you think about it. It made sense in a way. Edward was always where Stede was. They kept in the same cabin. They talked constantly. They were always looking art each other.

"Well shit..."

"Exactly!" Izzy huffs.

"I mean... Is it that bad if he is?" You ask him.

Izzy stares at you. "Bad? It's a fucking disaster."

You gaze down at your lap. "He's the happiest I've seen him in ages."

"It's pathetic."

You glance up at Izzy. "Love? Or the fact you're losing Blackbeard to Bonnet?"

Izzy glares at you.

You stand up from his bed and move over to the door. You glance back at Izzy. "I would be so lucky to have what they do."

Izzy watches you leave. He stares confused at the space you occupied only moments ago. Your words and the expression on your face, it felt strange to him. What did you mean by that? Were you jealous of Edward? No, that was nonsense. Izzy knows you better than that.

Izzy thinks he knows you better than that.

♡♡♡

One of the crew's favourite things to do was tell stories. If it wasn't Stede reading them a fairytale, it was telling ghost stories.

It was entertaining, even if they didn't always make sense.

You were sat on the steps near where Izzy stood with Ivan and Fang. You could hear them talking behind you. You were watching Ed where he sat by Stede. The latter was telling one of his ghost stories.

"So, is the plan off?" Ivan asks.

"Yeah, I reckon we're not killing this guy now." Fang chimes in.

"The plan is very much alive." Izzy says. "He promised me."

You listen to them.

"It just seems that he's having an awfully nice time," Fang says, looking at Izzy. "I mean, look at him. He's telling ghost stories."

"This is the most open and available I've ever seen him." Ivan states.

You sigh and get up, walking last the crew and heading below deck. Izzy watches you go, not once looking away until you were out of sight.

♡♡♡

You're sitting in your dark little corner when you head footsteps coming toward you then stopping. You don't have to look up to know it's Izzy.

"You alright?" He asks.

"Yeah."

He sees the way you're sitting with your knees up, arms draped over them. You're not even looking at him. He sighs quietly.

"You're not. What is it?"

"Nothing, Izzy."

"You can talk to me, ya know."

You glance up at him. You can't read him for his blank expression. You're not sure what he is trying to do.

"What happens if Edward doesn't kill him?"

"Then I'll take matters into my own hands."

"Will Edward even let you?" You ask.

"Does it matter? We'll get our captain back and we can go back to our lives. We... we can be a crew again."

"We're not a crew now?" You gaze up at him.

"Not with this lot."

You turn your eyes away from him and Izzy exhales through his nose in a sound of slight desperation. He doesn't want you to turn away from him.

He says your name softly. "This isn't our home."

When you say nothing he clenches his jaw and walks away. You listen to his footsteps fade. When you're sure he's gone you sigh.

♡♡♡

You stand on deck the next morning as the ship is shrouded in fog. The crew of the Revenge have no idea what's going on, but you sailed with Blackbeard long enough to know.

A Fuckery, as he liked to call it.

You lean against the railing of the ship as you wait. Once Stede arrives, dressed in pretty pyjamas and gown, Edward demonstrates the art of "Fuckery", which leads to the Swede jumping over the side of the ship.

Ed promptly stops his theatrics so someone can get the Swede back onboard.

Izzy promptly comes out, looking up at Ed who is still hanging from the mast. "May I have a word?" He asks, grabbing at Blackbeard's boot.

"It's a bit like theatre, isn't it, Ed? Theatre of fear!"

"Ha, theatre of fear, love that!" Ed grins back at Stede.

"His name is Blackbeard, dog!"

"Well, I'll leave you to it. It looks like there's trouble in paradise." Stede walks off.

You stick around just long enough to see Izzy try and help Ed, but he gets fed up after being caught between his legs. Izzy storms off leaving Edward hanging.

Ed looks at you.

"Help?"

You shake your head and walk off too. He can get out of his own mess.

You follow Izzy to find him with Fang and Ivan. He looks at you as you get closer to him. There is something about the way he is looking at you that sends your heart thumping.

"Where's Blackbeard?" He asks.

"Hanging out."

Izzy doesn't react, but Fang giggles and Ivan grins.

"You with us?" Izzy asks.

"Izzy..."

"No. It's important that I know you're with us," he says. "You don't want to stay with this lot, do ya? You're so much more than they are. You're wasted on a crew like this." Izzy speaks softly, almost gentle. This isn't like him at all.

"Why is this suddenly about me?"

"I-"

Izzy is cut off by Edward entering. You turn around to see him looking less than impressed.

"You left me hanging." He looks at you with a flat expression. You don't even react. "What the fuck's all this?"

"Do you remember your policy about let's aboard your vessel?" Izzy asks.

"Pets? Yeah. No pets. They befoul the ship."

"You know what else you said?" Ivan asks. "You said the love of a pet makes a man weak."

"I said that?"

"Yeah, when I joined your crew, you made me put my dog down." Fang tells him.

"Yeah, OK. Well, yeah, vaguely... remember that."

"So, here's the rub. Me and the boys, we think you've begun to view Bonnet as a sort of a pet." Izzy says. "You're in too deep, Edward. Beat thing to do, end it quick."

"The longer you wait, the harder it gets..." Fang says, getting upset. Ivan holds Fang as he cries.

You stand between Izzy and Edward, not sure what to do. Edward walks off, making it a bit easier on you.

Izzy turns his eyes to you and then follows Edward out.

You look at Fang and step closer.

"There there, Fang. It's okay."

"He's in doggy heaven, Fangy," Ivan says, trying to comfort him.

"But we go to different heavens!" He cries some more. You pat him on the shoulder. Fang turns and pulls you into a hug.

You stay there awhile.

♡♡♡

You sit on Izzy's bed and wait for him. He takes a while to return, but when he does, he seems surprised to see you there.

"I was looking for you," he says.

You're sat on his bed with the wooden sparrow in your hand. You notice some detail has been added to it in ink, meaning Izzy is giving it some character. It made you happy to think this meant something to him.

"I've been in here."

Izzy watches the way you handle the gift you made him. You're being very careful with it, your finger tracing over the ink lines on the wing.

"You know I'm right," he says.

"Do I?"

Izzy closes the door to his cabin and stands in front of you, gazing down at you with his dark eyes.

"Bonnet has to go."

"Do you hate Edward being happy?" You ask

"No, I-"

"Because it seems like it," you cut him off. "Edward has found someone new. He's trying new things and kind of just enjoying life."

"We're pirates, we're not meant to enjoy life." Izzy hisses out.

"You didn't enjoy being on Blackbeard's crew?" You ask.

"Well, yeah."

"You don't enjoy sailing the seas?"

"Course I do-"

"You don't enjoy life?"

He falls quiet.

"Are you jealous that all of Edward's attention is on someone else, or are you jealous that he has something you don't?"

Izzy stares at you silently.

You put the bird back on the desk and stand up, looking Izzy in the eye. You want to say more, but you're not sure what. Izzy seems to read your mind.

"It will be over soon," he tells you. "Tomorrow night."

"Oh. So, that's it then?" You ask.

"Thought you'd be happy."

"Happy?" You huff. "You're the one who will be happy, Izzy."

"Don't tell me you're soft for Bonnet too," Izzy almost begs.

"I don't hate the guy like you do. He's actually kind of nice. He's kind, polite, funny if even unintentionally so."

"See, that's my point. He ain't a pirate."

"Izzy. Let the man live. He's doing his thing and he's still alive."

"Not on my watch," he says in a low voice.

You see the look in his eyes and you walk away. You're done trying to change his mind. This thing with Stede was between Izzy and Edward.

You weren't going to get involved.

♡♡♡

You walk into the kitchen to find Fang holding an unconscious Lucius down. Roach is sharpening a kitchen knife.

"The fuck?"

Fang looks up. "His finger is infected."

You lean over Lucius to see the state of his hand. His finger was horribly swollen. "Ouch."

"Seems to me the best move here is... amputation," Roach says, looking closely at the finger.

"Oh, for God's sake! He's a visual artist." Fang cries out. "You can't cut the boy's little fingies."

"Level with us, man." Pete grabs Roach. "There's no better option?"

"Not in my professional opinion."

You pull a face.

"Hold him down."

You sigh and help Fang hold the poor lad down. Just as Roach is about to cut the finger off, Lucius gains consciousness again. As soon as he realises what's happening he pushes both you and Fang away and runs off.

"It's only going to get worse!" You call. He's already too far gone.

You can't help but chuckle as Pete and Fang go after him.

This crew isn't so bad.

♡♡♡

The Fuckery goes about as expected. Except for the fact that the crew of the Revenge didn't raid the ship. They let themselves get boarded by the Dutch merchants and basically put on some kind of Shakespeare play.

It ended with Edward freaking out and hiding in Stede's bathtub.

Stede did not die.

Izzy was fuming. You stand beside the man seeing the way he was clenching his jaw. His fist was balled up and it took everything in you not to reach out and calm the man.

Edward was complimenting the crew on their performance.

Edward was enjoying himself.

Not anymore.

"Stede Bonnet."

You turn to look at Izzy. You curse under your breath. Yet, you shouldn't be surprised. Izzy did tell you he would take matters into his own hands.

"Draw your weapon."

"No, Izzy, we're not doing this." Ed points at him.

"No, YOU'RE not doin' this. So I must." Izzy steps down and grabs 2 swords. "Stede fuckin' Bonnet... I fuckin' challenge you to a fuckin' duel."

He tosses Stede a sword.you step in front of Izzy.

"Izzy, please."

"Move." He says your name softly.

"I accept your challenge," Stede says from behind you. You turn around.

"Stede, no."

"Stede, be careful. He does know his shit," Edward warns him.

Izzy uses his arm to move you out of the way. You glare at him as he steps closer to Stede.

"As do I. You've taught me well," Stede replies to Ed.

"Not that well," Ed admits.

Stede watches Izzy. "I assume standard duel rules apply. What are those exactly?" He asks.

"Let's make it interesting, shall we?" Izzy says. "The loser is banished from the ship, if they're not dead."

"Izzy, no!" You call out, but he ignores you. Instead he instantly swings his sword at Stede.

Stede manages to block his attacks

"Come on. Give a man a warning." Stede says as Izzy holds his sword up to his neck.

"That was your warning."

They start swinging their swords at each other. You stand there anxiously, watching. There is no way for Stede to beat Izzy. Israel Hands was the best man you knew with a sword.

Izzy gets a hit into Stede which stumbles the man backward. Izzy's swings become a little more furious. Stede falls onto the ground. Izzy stands over him with sword pointed down at him.

"Yield or die."

"I choose... this." Stede throws powder into Izzy's face, temporarily blinding the man. Izzy covers his face and stumbles backward. The crew cheer for Stede, but all you can think about is if you should step in or not.

Stede gets to his feet, he gives Izzy a smack on the backside with his sword. Izzy straightens up again and continues the fight.

Izzy disarmed Stede with ease. The gentleman pirate backs up against the mast.

"So, it looks like we've arrived, Bonnet. The end of the road." Izzy holds his sword up to Stede again.

"Alright. Let's call it a draw," Stede says, breathless.

"Nah, I'm good."

"Izzy, stop!" You try once more in vain, but it feels like he's ignoring you completely.

With a firm stab, Izzy's sword goes right through Stede's abdomen and into the mast, pinning him there.

You inhale sharply at Stede's scream.

"Did I do it right?" Stede asks Ed, looking at the other man. "He missed all the important bits..."

Izzy tries to pull the sword out, but to no avail. He pulls hard, grunting. You stare at him, mild confusion painting across your face.

"This mast... is made from the finest cherry wood in Brazil. It's rather strong, actually." Stede manages to say as Izzy continues to attempt to pull the sword out.

Edward looks flabbergasted.

You can't quite believe what you're seeing yourself.

"Shut up!" Izzy yells at Stede. "Don't you ever shut up?! You rancid rat!"

The sword breaks in Izzy's hand. The blade still pinning Stede to the mast. You feel a gasp escape last your lips.

Buttons laughs. "Well, now, Mr Hands. Reckon he's rendered your sword inoperable."

Izzy stands there with realisation on his face.

"By duelling tradition, that means..."

"Stede wins!" Frenchie yells. The crew all cheer. "In your face, Jizzy!"

Edward shrugs as Izzy looks at him.

You watch Izzy with concern. He walks off. You watch him. You don't care for what everyone else is doing. You take off after Izzy.

He disappears into his cabin, you follow him inside, not even knocking. He doesn't say anything to you about it as he faces away from you, shoulders tense.

"Izzy..."

"No." He speaks with a firmness, but not in an angry way. Just a firm 'no.'

"Izzy, please. That whole thing was stupid."

"You're telling me..."

You take a step closer to him hoping he will turn around and look at you. He remains facing the wall of his cabin.

"Just forget the duel! Forget everything."

"No. Rules are rules."

"Izzy..."

He turns around and looks at you, but only briefly. He looks like he struggles to look you in the eye.

"He promised me. I was fucking right all along. Edward's gone soft for that twat. Any trace of Blackbeard is gone and it's all because of fuckin' Bonnet."

Your arm twitches as if you were going to reach out and touch him, but you catch yourself. However, Izzy noticed the slight reaction in your hand. He kind of wished you would.

"Don't be stupid, Izzy. Stay. We'll figure all this out. Maybe there's another solution."

"No." He shakes his head, his Adam's apple bobs as he swallows thickly. He's angry. Silently angry.

"It was a stupid fucking duel. Are you seriously going to leave?"

"I'm not a coward."

"I didn't say you were," your voice is almost pleading. "Don't go."

"Rules are rules," he says again. For a brief second his eyes meet yours and you can see all the emotion bottled up inside. You want to reach out and hold the man, caress him, get him to open up and talk to you.

But he won't.

Your breathing becomes uneven as you try to fight off any emotion. You will not cry in front of him.

"So that's it then? You're going to fuck off and... and what? Leave me behind? I only just found you again and you're leaving me?"

"You could come with me."

"And do what? Izzy, what would be the point? I only just found my way back home," you tell him.

"No. This isn't home. This is a lie. A facade. Home was back on our ship, back with Blackbeard's crew. Home is... is where we belonged. It's where we lived together."

A tear escapes and runs down your cheek. This was your breaking point.

"Fuck you," you whisper.

Izzy stares at you.

"Fuck you and this whole fucking thing." You take a couple slow steps back toward the door. "Fuck off then, Izzy. Leave me behind. Maybe... maybe I should have stayed a ghost story."

You don't hang around. You turn on your heel and leave.

Izzy catches his breath as he stares at his empty doorway.

"Fuck," he whispers.

♡♡♡

@grippleback-galaxy - @askmarinaandothers - @godlikegallagher - @for-fuck-sake-im-alive - @whiskeyswriting - @lxsm2 - @bloody-bunni666 - @the-chocoholic-writer -

#spirit of the sea #izzy hands x reader #ofmd #our flag means death #dragon writes

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sauron-kraut · 16 days

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20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thank you so much for tagging me, @nihil-ism 🖤

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Currently 15.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

9,329 - you see, my works posted so far are either shorter one shots or ficlets/drabbles.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

The Silmarillion and adjacent works by Tolkien. :) And within this fandom it's almost exclusively about rather niche ships with Mairon. Let's see when/if I will write for other fandoms; I'd love to at some point.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Of Gods And Monsters

Sacrificial

Plaything

Sugar

Sacred

All of these are Mairon/Ar-Pharazôn. lmao

5. Do you respond to comments?

I will respond to every single (first) comment someone leaves on a fic of mine. I thorougly enjoy these little interactions and I want to show my appreciation to people who show me theirs.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

That must be my double drabble Plaything I guess. At least if we talk about the very moment ending the fic. Throwing up from negative emotions and alcohol alike seems pretty... angsty.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

That must be Of Being Born and Little Deaths. Everyone (well...) is having a good time and it literally ends with an orgasm.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

So far I haven't and I'm very grateful for that.

9. Do you write smut?

I love writing smut. And I love weaving character analyses/studies and some poetry into it.

10. Do you write crossovers?

I don't, personally not a fan of crossovers.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I haven't, but sharing headcanons and ideas with others has endlessly inspired many of my fics.

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Angbang (Melkor/Mairon). I love them, I will never be over them; they've been with me for ten years now, I could ramble on forever about how important this ship is to me and what it means to me. It's rather popular in fandom though and I feel like there's many great writers out there who have graced us with their brilliant work. That makes me feel like I don't necessarily need to... add to that somehow. I'd love to write (more) Angbang at some point but as far as writing goes my favorite ship is Mairon/Ar-Pharazôn (which many of you might have guessed at this point lol). It's rotten, it's biblical, it's a playground for all things terrible to me. And it's a rarepair (why??) and therefore (in my mind) lies like a bare field before me, ready to sow and play in. 🖤

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

No such thing. My WIP are my children and I will not abandon them. It might take many months but they will see the light of day.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Building atmosphere, pretty lines, poetry, in some parts characterization. (Very) short formats are my strength in general.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Not really able to write anything plot-driven, sometimes dialogue (though I might have started to improve a little), prioritizing pretty imagery and rhythm/sound over meaning/sense sometimes, having difficulties writing longer stuff.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Not really my thing; could get awkard quickly imo.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Visual Kei bands (Moi dix Mois) when I was 14.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

Easily my little double drabble Reverence. It illustrates nicely what I talked about regarding my writing strengths for question 17 imo.

Tagging @lvsifer, @curufiin, @cilil, @saintstars, @gardensofthemoon, @elevenelvenswords , @crackinthecup , @swanhild , @a-world-of-whimsy-5 and @i-did-not-mean-to (no pressure ofc and sorry if I forgot anyone, in that case: that's just my forgetful brain at work)

#tag game #m writes

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journey-to-the-attic · 3 months

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3rd anni req 2: [DRAGON AU] mammon / first encounter

ao3 link

note: requested by @whensam! i have to admit, i was hoping this'd pop up. i know i can write what i want, but i always feel i need an excuse anyway. you didn't indicate a preference for pov and i also just ended up wanting to do both, so this is a little longer than expected as a result!

∎ ∎ ∎ ∎ ∎

Baker's children don't make good hunters. We’re used to carrying sacks of flour, not sprinting across fields with pitchfork-wielding mobs in hot pursuit. We don't make good kindling, either, but that hasn't stopped about half the adults in the village - for shame, I'd say, if I had the breath to speak.

Here's the thing. Our village isn't exactly a popular spot by any definition of the term. We're too far from any big cities to make good business, we don't make much worth selling, and the people certainly aren't charming enough to warrant a detour.

More important, though, are the creatures we share land with. Through the grassland that border the crop fields, there are invisible lines drawn in the soil - ones that no one crosses.

These lines mark dragon territory, and everyone knows that a dragon would sooner eat you for breakfast than stop for a reasonable conversation. Reasonable conversation is not something I have the luxury of at the moment, which is why I’m already several hundred paces over the line.

Just fifty already takes you into the forest. I don’t hear footsteps in pursuit anymore - they’d have to be mad to follow me so far in, which is exactly what I'd been banking on. The issue now is that, rather than being pitchforked, or burnt at the stake, I’ll probably just get eaten instead.

I pick my way through rotting leaf litter and ridged roots before collapsing against an old oak, wondering if the moisture dripping from overhead is safe to drink - or at least to wash my mouth out with. Gnawing through rope seems like a clever idea until your teeth start bleeding.

I can’t stay here, I think. Dying now would be like letting them win. Then Dad will have smacked the alderman for no reason.

Just as I get back to my feet, something whooshes overhead. I freeze. Those wings were larger than any bird I’ve ever seen.

Surely it couldn’t see me through the leaves. I crouch low to the ground and try to hide in the undergrowth - the wingbeats disappear until all I can hear is distant birdsong.

At least they’re having a nice day. I duck my head and trudge through a hedge - and come face to face with a dragon.

“Argh!”

I leap backwards. Bad move. The sunlight falls across its pointed face just in time for me to watch its pupils expand into full moons, like a cat on the hunt.

It doesn’t pounce. It doesn’t charge, snap or growl. It creeps slowly, eyes fixed on me the whole way forward, as if making sure I know that I can’t escape.

Nowhere to run. I press my back against a wizened old pine and shut my eyes tight - throwing out an arm, as if that might shield me.

Nothing happens. Then something cold presses into my palm.

My eyes snap open. The dragon blinks down at me. Its eyes are such a deep shade of blue that it’s almost dizzying. Oh. Oh, okay.

Its - his? I wonder, noting the ridges on his nose - snout rests carefully in my palm. He seems to register me staring at him, and snorts. The hot air is just on the brink of scalding, but not quite enough to hurt.

Then, almost experimentally, he opens his mouth - a yawning chasm of teeth, poised as if to ever-so-gently bite off my head. Except he doesn’t do that. There’s no pain - no crunch of broken bone or split sinew - far from it. The dragon leans down, carefully hooks his teeth into the collar of my shirt, and takes off.

I’d have screamed if it wasn’t for all the air leaving my chest at once. The forest shrinks to a dark blanket beneath us faster than I can even register it happening, and I realise very quickly that I’d be dashed to bits if I so much as slipped.

Wyvern, says an unhelpful voice in the back of my head as we soar. The dragon’s white-and-gold wings blot out the sun, but they’re so brilliant that it’s hard to tell the difference. They’re good fliers.

Before long, the dragon lands - legs first, digging his talons deep into the soil as he skids to a stop. After a moment, he huffs, then (strangely gently) drops me in a heap on the stony ground.

There’s a rumble, a swoosh - then several thuds, a swoosh of wings. I watch a shadow fall over my field of vision, then slowly raise my head.

Oh, I think a little faintly.

All sorts of colours, all sorts of demeanours. One in particular steps forward - dark, with crimson eyes, and the sort of air about him that tells me he's the leader. Boss, I'll call him, if only to settle my own nerves. The dragon that brought me here (Goldie, I decide, still trying to settle my breathing) steps forward with a sort of chirrup in greeting.

It's a spectacle, if nothing else. Here are seven dragons, horns and wings and all. I've heard cautionary tales and horror stories, but they never really tell you how majestic they look in real life - scales shinier than any jewel I could imagine. Marvels of creatures, really. If only I had the wits to appreciate it.

Boss is growling now - there's a sort of heat rolling off him in waves. Some of the feeling coming back to my numb legs.

If only I knew what they were saying...

It isn’t often that the forest bears treasure - usually it’s all very boring things, like meat and berries and leaves. To be fair, Mammon's used to treasure of the shiny, golden kind - not this weird little critter crouched against a tree.

It smells faintly of smoke and burnt wheat. He stalks closer, but he's testing it more than anything - it doesn’t look like any prey he’s familiar with.

When he gets close, it sticks out a little starfish-shaped appendage and closes its eyes. He smells bitter fear now.

Is it greeting him? Telling him it isn’t a threat? That’s smart. He thought only dragons could be smart, but it’s not behaving - nor does it look - like any dragon he's ever met.

So he returns the greeting with his snout. He half expects to be stung, like the time Asmo brought that little spidery thing home, but all the critter does is look up at him fearfully.

Interesting. On a whim, he scoops the little round thing off, and decides to take it back home.

The weird not-prey goes still as soon as he takes off. Once home, he lets it disembark (drops it on the floor, though he tries to be gentle), then looks up to face his brothers as they land around him.

The others decide to keep their distance. Lucifer is the first to plod forward and investigate.

He sniffs carefully at the air, then makes a crackling noise somewhere at the base of his throat - which isn't usually a good sign.

“That’s a human, Mammon," He says, glaring at the little critter. It’s still sitting, frozen.

“It’s a what?”

“What’d you bring that for? Stupid.” Belphie settles back on his haunches, blowing out a puff of frost. “Can’t go around snatching humans. We’ll get hunted. Stupid.”

“Shut up,” He grunts. “And I didn’t snatch it. Found it walkin’ around in the forest.”

“That’s impossible,” Satan says nearly immediately. His tail swishes back and forth - slow and deliberate, an analytical glint in his clever eyes. “They don’t let their young anywhere near us.”

“Well, whaddya call this, then?”

The human - apparently - suddenly seems to regain use of its limbs. Springing to its feet (Levi shrinks back, crest flattering over his head), it stumbles for a moment, then abruptly ducks under one of Mammon's wings.

The rest of his brothers - who'd similarly drawn back - relax again with a simultaneous murmur of vague confusion. Mammon blinks. Then his tail starts flicking at the end - like it always does when he's pleased.

“...you are not keeping it,” Lucifer says, looking as if he'd very much like to fly off into the sunset.

“It might have a disease!” adds Asmo.

“I don’t care what any of ya say,” Mammon says stubbornly, snapping at Beel when it looks like he might creep in for a bite. “I’m not sendin’ it back to the forest. It’ll be dead in a day.”

"It might be dangerous," Levi hisses. "It's totally giving me the evil eyes."

"Stop scaring it, then,” Mammon says loftily. “Relax, ya big baby - You’ve got teeth bigger than its whole head.”

“You are not keeping it,” Lucifer says again, as if repeating himself will make him sound more in charge.

“Pfft. Can’t tell me what to do.” He snaps at Beel again. “Oi! No bitin’! Go raid your stash or something.”

Beel’s horns seem to droop a little. “...fine. C’mon, Belphie.”

“I was busy,” complains Satan with a huff as the twins flap off. "This is boring. I've seen deer carcasses more interesting than that weird little thing."

"Go look at your stinkin' carcasses, then," Mammon shoots back, fighting the impulse to spit something at him.

Satan does exactly that. Levi soon slinks off as well, apparently still intimidated - and Asmo seems to have disappeared as soon as he decided the human wasn't going to make a good accessory.

Lucifer, meanwhile, stands his ground. His tail is beginning to lash in agitation. If Mammon’s lucky, maybe he’ll even start spitting fire.

“I'm not gonna eat it,” He says stubbornly.

“I wasn't going to tell you to,” Lucifer replies, but he sounds very much like he’s considering it. “Belphie was right. If a hunter sees us with one of their young, they’ll take it as a threat.”

“Like we wouldn’t win,” He scoffs, sitting down with a thump. "Anyway,don't ya smell the fire on it?"

A single scarlet eye narrows a little. Evidently he hadn't - though Lucifer's always smelling smoke, by virtue of the literal furnace in his chest, so he can't really be blamed for not noticing.

The human is peeking out from beneath his wing with a little more bravado now. Lucifer eyes its round little face as if it might start spitting poison at him.

"...humans don't usually try to set fire to their young," Lucifer says after a moment. "You're sure she doesn't have anywhere to go?"

"Wouldn't've been in the forest if it— uh, she did." He glances down. "C'mon! Not like we don't have the space."

Lucifer is silent. Then he gives a long-suffering sigh - sending a plume of dark blue smoke into the sky - and bends down to the human’s eye level again.

“Will you behave?” Lucifer asks her severely, as if she can understand dragon-speak.

The human child blinks up at him. Then she reaches up and plants a hand on his snout.

Mammon holds his breath. After a moment, Lucifer’s wings flutter, then settle.

“I’m not having any part in this,” He announces, stepping back. “This is to be your responsibility only. Don't make any trouble for your brothers. Do you understand?”

“Yeah, yeah,” He says dismissively, occupied with keeping his triumph from showing in his tail. Got it.”

Lucifer glances down at the human one final time. “...take care of her.”

And off he flaps - to attend to his usual nighttime duties. He says he's keeping watch for danger, but mostly they seem to involve gazing darkly into the sunset.

With his brothers dispersed, Mammon takes a moment to actually consider his situation. He doesn’t actually know what taking care of a human child involves. He doesn’t know much about humans in general - it’s not like he usually pays them any attention. Maybe some of his brothers could give him some advice… if any of them were interested in the kid’s well-being, at least.

They’ll come around, He decides after a moment, unfurling his wings and attempting to nudge the human in the general direction of their living caves. First, I gotta figure out what these things eat…

#3rd anni event #obey me #writing #dragon au #i mentioned this in the ao3 notes but it's crazy to me that it's been two years since dragon au started #like woa. time passes #jtta aus #obey me mammon #jtta ik #obey me brothers #(won't tag the others individually since they're not as prominent)#whensam

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yourstory-teller · 1 year

Note

clingy bono fluff is a must

Hey bb, thank u for requesting, this was really fun to write. Hope you like it xx

Warnings: None, this is very sweet and cheesy and I love this man so much, I can not.

I wrote this in the first hours of the day and English is not my first language, so pls forgive me if there are any errors ♡

In your arms

"Babe, please." You made yet another measly attempt to move, only to find out for, at least, the hundredth time, that there was no way you could get out of there. You heard a mumbling rumble coming from behind you, muffled, probably by the pillow case.

The arm around your middle made no move to let you go, instead you felt it pulling you impossibly closer, one long, heavy leg not so gently thrown over your hip.

A soft chuckle escaped your lips and you considered just succumbing to the circumstances and letting yourself go back to sleep for as long as you were allowed to. Unfortunately for you, and presumably for the person currently wrapped around your body as well, you had some sense of responsibility.

So, after a few seconds of arduous internal debate, you tried to tilt your head back as far as you could, eyes only catching a big mess of thick black locks. "Yassine, my love, I really need to get up."

"No." He said, simply, now moving to bury his face in your hair. "You know I'd love to be in bed with you all day long, but I got things to do." You sighed, finally finding space between your boyfriend's strong arms, to turn over until you were lying face to face.

The closeness was such that you could feel his warm breath mingling with your own. It felt like getting up was becoming a progressively more difficult of a challenge.

"I'm sure they can wait a bit" He lifted one of his huge, long-fingered hands to tenderly caress your cheek, eventually moving down a bit to slide his thumb over your lower lip. "Come on, baby, stay here with me a little longer, huh?"

Now, how could you not stay? Just for a little longer. It wouldn't be just a little, of course, but he knew, and you couldn't deny that, not so deep inside, you really couldn't care any less. You loved him, and it was really a gift how absolutely adored he could make you feel, at every moment of every day.

Yassine had always been rather sly towards you, even when you were just friends, always attached to the hip, and it only intensified when the two of you started your romantic relationship. His love language was definitely physical touch, and you enjoyed every part of it.

"It's been a hell of a day, princess, I really need your cuddles." Or "It's so cold, the covers are just not doing it" or even "It just doesn't feel quite right when I'm not holding you."

Sometimes, when he had a particularly tough season with training and had to be away for a rather long time, you almost felt like an actual part of you had gone missing.

So, no matter how late it got, or how tired you were, you always made an effort to stay awake until he arrived, and when he finally did, the big, bright smile, accompanied by that little dimple on his left cheek, made it all so much more than worth it. You'd open your arms to receive him in your embrace, head on your chest or in the crook of your neck as you gently ran your fingers through his hair. As a response, he would always snuggle up to you and whisper little pledges of love until the two of you were deeply out of it.

He was especially clingy during free days. Most of the time was spent by the two of you with cuddling on the couch while watching some new movie you found on the catalog, or going out with your friends. Eventually, though, you did have some work to do. After all, it was very rare for you two to be able to take a recess at the same time.

You would be sitting at the large table placed in the living room, notebook open in front of you, a few sheets strewn across the surface, along with an abnormally large cup of coffee, completely focused on whatever you were working on at that moment, when he would appear.

First, he would be walking back and forth inside the house, sometimes going into the kitchen to get a glass of water, or sitting on the sofa to go through all the channels for a few minutes, not really watching anything.

Then he would start making little comments, clearly not wanting to disturb you, but still needing to know that you at least had noticed him. Maybe something about the weather, or how the team seems to be doing worse and worse with each practice. Usually you would respond with a few short comments on the topic, just enough to let him know that you heard.

Not long after, the discreet but always very fluttering compliments would come.

It could range from talking about his admiration for your vigor with your work, to how you look even more beautiful when you're focused. You would then look at him and be greeted with, you could swear, the biggest, most cruelly irresistible puppy eyes in the entire universe.

"You haven't kissed me today" He said, a rather childish pout plastered to his lips.

You giggled under your breath, but got up anyway, and walked over to the too big of a baby that your boyfriend was, intending to return to your previous task soon as possible. You then rested your hands on his broad shoulders, feeling the muscles there flex under your touch, and leaned in slightly to bring your mouth to his in a chaste kiss.

By the time your lips met, however, Yassine was grabbing your hips and pressing you so hard against him, you could feel his heart beating fast against your own. Needless to say, you were instantly smitten, melting like butter in his arms, the writings saved to the computer screen, long forgotten.

After that, you would end up spending what was left of the day doing little activities together, just because you couldn't stand the feeling of being so unproductive.

Cooking was usually the solution. Together in the relatively spacious kitchen, looking for some quick and easy dessert recipe, which somehow always resulted in a huge unexplained mess. You put whatever calorie bomb you'd made this time in the oven, or in the fridge, and while you waited, yassine would pull you close, once again, hugging you from behind, his chin resting on top of your head.

And for the next few minutes, the two of you would just stand there, holding each other, slightly rocking from side to side, talking and laughing like two idiots in love. Because that's exactly what you were.

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dancegender · 10 months

Text

Blueprints of Disaster

(SPOILER WARNING for EP6!)

Heyyy, wassup! Wrote something about Alice because she's literally my blorbo fr. Also contains a healthy dose of Nori!

Not my best work but I wrote it in like 2hrs so ehhh.

In a shrouded corner, where she thought (or hoped, rather) that the sentinels couldn't reach her, Alice sat bent over her sketchbook. It was a crude device, filled with uneven pages that jutted out from under the book's inconsistent patchwork cover. It was the most valuable item in her possession, Alice guessed. If the sentinels were to confiscate anything from her, she would not let them take this book.

~~~

Every day, they'd put up with the sentinels. Constantly prowling through the facility's blindingly bright hallways, sticking their heads where they didn't belong and gnashing their teeth; the drones tuned it out the best they could, as if it were normal. And it was normal, at least for the unfortunate bunch at CabinLabs.

"Allie, there you are!" a somewhat peppy voice tore Alice from her thoughts. Snapping her head up, she relaxed upon seeing a drone she recognized. A drone she felt safe around.

Nori, Serial Designation 002, was a peculiar drone, to say the least. Alice only met her because she was in the infirmary with some split wires in her neck. Nori's bunkmate, Yeva, was on the bed next to hers, and Nori often snuck past the sentinels at night to visit. Unlike her timid roommate, Nori didn't seem to be afraid of much, especially not their higher-ups. For that, Alice admired her quite greatly; it wasn't every day that you'd run into such a confident drone so far below the surface.

Nori plopped down next to Alice, craning her neck to look at the sketchbook. "What're you working on?"

Alice shifted, positioning the book between her and Nori. The pages were segmented, covered in blueprint drawings for all sorts of contraptions, none of which made concrete logical sense. Notes had been scribbled into the margins, but the amount of shorthands used made them rather cryptic, nearly impossible to read. That'd been the point, though; her creations would never come to be if the humans could tell what they were - what they'd be able to do.

"I've been smoothin' up some o' my drawins," she spoke in a hushed whisper to keep from alerting anyone else. "I think I've got this'un on the right pretty much done, I'd just hafta build it an' test it for m'self."

"I could-" Nori started to say. She held her hand out, her body shielding it from one of the numerous cameras that littered the lab's walls. Little symbols emerged from her fingertips, her eye morphing to match them. Within seconds, the camera slumped down, no longer online.

There were a few drones in the lab that had powers like Nori's. Nobody really knew what to make of them. Alice likened it to magic, but thinking about the possible extents it could reach chilled her titanium core. She didn't mind Nori, though, so she shook it off in favor of what Nori was saying.

"I could get the parts for you! I was planning on sneaking around tonight, anyway," She ran her finger along the drawing, no doubt try to figure out how it worked. Alice turned to face her, exasperated.

"Don' nobody sneak out as much s'you do, Nor." She turned to a fresh page in her book and began writing down a list of materials she'd need, hesitating before she ripped it out. "...You sure you wanna do this?"

"Of course! Your little gizmos are the best! I love using them. Remember that little EMP gun you built?

Alice cringed. Of course she remembered the EMP gun. "Little" was quite the understatement, though; that thing was the size of a desktop computer, and its first test sent 5 bystander drones to the infirmary.

"Look, Alice," Nori leaned in, quieting her voice as the camera came back online. "You're a great inventor. And if we're ever gonna revolt, we'll need as many of your little weapons as we can get. Gimme the list," She made a grabbing motion with her hands.

Alice sighed, tearing the list out her book and handing it to Nori. She wanted to say something, but she was cut off by a man in a lab coat that had seemed to appear out of thin air. She quickly snapped her sketchbook shut, as if afraid of the contents.

"017, please follow me," his voice was squeaky and largely unimpressive, much like every other scientist she'd encountered. Between that and the amount of protective gear he wore, there was no way to determine that he was any particular member of the faculty. "It is time to begin your monthly diagnostic."

"Ugh, lame!" Nori groaned. She turned, flashing Alice a smile before springing up from the floor. "Well, see you later, I guess."

Alice followed the scientist down a corridor, watching Nori disappear through a different one. She hoped Nori was successful in her midnight raiding - that revolution she was always on about would certainly seem closer if she was.

Alice stood in the security control room, eyes focused on an array of monitors, each displaying their own camera feed. None of it felt real. Alice was half expecting to wake up at any moment. She knew, though, in the depths of her CPU, that she wouldn't. What she and the others were doing would change the reality of hundreds of drones forever.

Nori's plan had been simple. She and Yeva were going to use their magic to overwhelm the security system, which would give Alice access to the control room. While Alice distracted the sentinels, Nori and Yeva were to make their way to the uppermost layer of the lab using forged security keycards. Once they arrived, Nori was to signal to Alice in one of the cameras. This would cue Alice to temporarily shut down the doors on that floor, letting Nori and Yeva escape.

It wasn't a very large jailbreak, but it would certainly be a significant one. Once freed, Nori and Yeva would work with the drones on the surface to "Rid of the humans for good" as Nori put it, and then they'd be back to free everyone else. Alice didn't know what she had in mind, but she trusted Nori. She was willing to get sacked as another part of the plan.

Keeping all of the sentinels in check was tough by herself. She was unexpectedly relieved when Nori finally gave her the signal.

Alice took a rather hard punishment after their little stunt. It didn't bother her, though. She sat quietly in her detention cell, doodling her days away as she anticipated Nori's returned.

She waited.

And she waited.

#woe! fiction be upon ye!#murder drones spoilers #murder drones #murder drones nori #murder drones alice #alice md #nori md

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asheepinthenight · 13 days

Note

I have a question! What is your writing process? As in, do you have a set amount of words to reach a day or do you simply write when the feeling grabs you? Did you plan the entire story out first before you started writing or did it shape as you went? I’m curious!

Honestly, my process is a little chaotic! I'm neurodivergent, so most of my "process" is just working around what my brain can and cannot be persuaded to do on a given day. In general, most of the writing/coding work gets done in intense productivity bursts of a few days, weeks or months followed by periods of lower intensity. While the intense periods get the actual job done, the low-intensity ones are where the story actually takes shape. For every hour I spend writing and coding, I spend significantly longer on other background work, whether that's planning scenes, working on lore, or thinking super hard about why some particular thing isn't working.

As far as the writing itself, I did start out using weekly/monthly word count goals, but it didn't really work for me as a motivational tool. Since the vast majority of passages for TE contain at least some text variation based on variables, it's more confusing to write and code separately, so I do them both at once. I also commit the cardinal writer sin of writing and editing more or less simultaneously, so the actual word count of the project bounces around quite a lot. Sometimes, cutting several thousand words that aren't working feels like a big accomplishment on its own! So instead of using word count, I try to focus on making writing its own reward. Writing isn't always fun, but if I'm not compelled by the act of writing a scene, it usually means that I need to slow down and find a way to make it more vibrant—or it needs to be cut or rearranged.

On the planning side, I'm a planner when it comes to the big-picture stuff and more of a pantser on the scene level. TE started its life as a vague list of scenes (I work off scenes rather than chapters), then became a flowchart in Obsidian.

The flowchart's seen a lot of changes since its initial form, but the general structure is mostly the same. It hasn't been updated since the last demo update, but the demo scenes (green) are pretty orderly with connection arrows between them. The farther you go into future scenes (red), the less structured they get. Most of the red scenes don't even show the major branching they'll include. Usually, as a planned scene approaches, the way it connects to preceding scenes will present itself, whether it's through a time skip or some new scenes. Subplots and other elements that don't need to coincide with external plot beats get slotted in wherever makes sense without disturbing the flow of the story.

I can't say that I'd recommend my process to anyone, but if you want to try it, have at it! It's all about finding a method that works well for a given person and a given project.

#asks

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fezwearingjellybananas · 23 days

Note

is it okay if i ask you the same question you asked me? i'm really curious and i'd like to know more about your take on Barry and Cisco and their powers and how they connect and work together. if it's okay?

Yes definitely!

Usually I headcanon Cisco's powers come from the Speed Force, and almost in two parts? So, there is the general in dctv canon metahumans are created at exposure to some unnamed dark matter, established in series 1 but not a constant requirement of exposure at a moment that would otherwise result in death, almost like a rapid evolution in a single organism instead of over generations (which might have a name but I can't think of one right now). And dark matter might just be everywhere, so presumably there is a specific particle or something that activates an existing metagene, and the most likely source seems to be the Speed Force? It's opening the Speed Force in s4 that creates the bus metas, the Philosopher's Stone in s3 is from the Speed Force, even way back at the start the purpose of the particle accelerator is to channel a path for the Speed Force to reach Barry. Which actually what you said the other day about Cisco's powers coming from Barry first travelling through time fits so well, I have been writing them in fic as starting to develop slowly from the initial explosion, but travelling through time is sort of the first time Barry accesses the Speed Force rather than just draws power from it if that makes sense? And he doesn't know it yet, but that moment, that surge of power Barry unknowingly lets out being what triggers Cisco's metagene, again with the end goal of saving his life... Yes, I like this idea, I'm going to stick with it after I talk about the second half of how I headcanon Cisco's powers are connected to the Speed Force.

Which is Cisco's powers are literally from the Speed Force, he's connected to it just like Barry is, it just manifests in different ways. Barry when he travels through time intentionally sees things in the Speed Force, in a similar way to Cisco's vibes, they can both access different universes through their powers, both their powers are linked to vibrations, so maybe the Speed Force is impossible to truly say what it is, but it's somehow connected to the vibration of the multiverse. And I think maybe Cisco's powers might also be linked to the other Forces too- the Speed Force uses plural pronouns in their early appearances, then stops after the arc with the other Forces, after they become separate entities, so with Cisco's abilities meaning he sees through time maybe he draws from the Still Force a little at least, I think it could have been fun to have Cisco's powers glitching after Crisis and at first they think it's because the multiverse is gone and then it goes into the Forces arc and they slowly piece together the Forces are no longer together and that's what's causing Cisco's problems, when they get them to work together again Cisco's powers are fixed too.

Anyway I got distracted. There is a line in episode two "[Cisco's] the eyes and ears, and [Barry's] the feet", and I think that almost later sums up their powers? Or at least how they use them together- Cisco gets his vibes and can tell Barry where to be, Barry can run through time and Cisco can see through it, he can see the changes and other timelines. Barry can share his speed through Flashtime, and Cisco can stop a speedster in their tracks, and I think Barry's probably glad it's Cisco that ended up with the power to stop a speedster, Cisco and Iris are probably the only people he would trust with it if he had to give it to someone.

So now I want to go back to Cisco's powers being triggered by Barry changing time. If Cisco's powers come from the Speed Force, it's by Barry accessing it at that point, giving it that path into the world, and by the Speed Force deciding that is the point Cisco needs them. He gets his vibes so he can see his death, knows what happened, can learn how to avoid it this time around. And his death came at the hand of a speedster, eventually he'll get the powers to stop a speedster, to cut them off from their powers, it's like they were tailor-made so if Cisco had had powers in that moment he would have been able to stop Eobard and save his own life, like the Speed Force knows they can't protect him exactly, but they can give him the tools he needs to protect himself.

(And, well, pulling a little from the comics, Barry is the Speed Force, or it came from him, either way there's an echo of Barry within it, of course the Speed Force wanted Cisco safe, and maybe it was a part of Barry that chose to give Cisco the powers to stop him should they ever need it after all)

#thank you!#exactly how i write barry and cisco's powers relating to each other does vary a little by fic #depending on what is most useful #(gone in a flash has the most- in that they both see through each other's vibrations #and barry can see cisco when he vibes and cisco is drawn to barry and iris in his vibes)#but them both sharing a connection to the speed force is more or less a constant #dc tv universe #dc #cisco ramon #barry allen #replies #alittleflashvibe #*

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gutterspeak · 2 months

Text

ruminating on iolanthe today...

here's a big chunk of a RP @desnas and I were writing with iolanthe and one of the NPCs from faye's campaign, an aasimar paladin named aurum. we'll be restarting that campaign soon so the canonicity of this event is questionable but the dynamic of grouchy twilight cleric with trauma surrounding the paladin's religion ends up falling a little for him anyway because of his friendly boy swag still holds up 😌

iolanthe's POV was written by me, and aurum's POV was written by faye!

It is, perhaps, a touch of ill-fated impulse that leads Iolanthe plates-in-hand to once more darken Aurum's door. She takes pause before she knocks. A moment and then several go by as Vigil hugs the side of her neck in silent comfort. Why did he ask her, out of all of them? (Pity, maybe. Desperation. Convenience.) Why him, then? Why say yes? (Well, she hadn't. Not really, not yet.) Does it matter? Will it hurt? Is it fair? To those points, she hasn't a good answer. Iolanthe takes a breath. And tucks whatever questions, feelings, thoughts she has away into their neat little boxes on their dusty little shelves. The day weighs heavy on her shoulders, and while the prospect of sharing a night with a paladin – an oathkeeper, of all things, should speak only to her contempt and disgust... It doesn't. Curious. Strange. She uses the tip of her boot to rap on the door. There's some shuffling. Some nervous prancing. And then the door swings open, and there stands Aurum. Trying very hard not to look as relieved as he feels, she thinks. His face is still dusky, silhouette aglow with light all his own. "Hello." She tilts her head, a half-smile flittering across her face. She slips inside once he invites her to and carefully sets down the bottle of cider and then their dinners on the low table in front of the couch. With a twitch of her fingers, she dismisses Vigil from her eternal perch upon her shoulder. The world falls into darkness, and Iolanthe takes a seat. "I thought you might be hungry," she says softly. "Unless you already ate. I suppose that would make the gesture a bit awkward."

The sweet aroma of well-seasoned and cooked meat wafts in through the front door, and Aurum feels the sting of hunger-- a great hunger. He in fact did not know how hungry he was up until this moment. A wide, grateful smile blooms on his face and he settles next to her, feeling slightly more at ease without the owl's gaze locked in on him. Not that he didn't find it endearing, but-- well, a private moment might be nice, just between the two of them. "I... heavens, thank you. I am rather hungry, yes, though I'd truly appreciate the gesture regardless." He looks Iolanthe over, his stare lingering a little longer than it would otherwise, before cupping his hands under the warm plate. "And a steak, no less? Please let me pay you in kind for this. You've a baby to take care of."

At Aurum’s words, her easy smile falls away. Chivalry. Now there’s something both old as fate and newer than a babe’s first breath all at once. Had it always felt like this? So… stilted? Or is that just her? Ill at ease and out of practice from decades spent in matrimonial bliss? Lady save her. She hasn’t done this in… Well. She’d rather not put a number to the years it’s been, lest she feel well and truly old. Delicately, Iolanthe clears her throat. Neat little boxes. Dusty little shelves. She picks up her silverware and begins to eat. ��Think nothing of it. But if you must give me money, it would make me feel better if we at least pretend it’s a tithe.”

“A tithe? A commendable cleric you make.” He hums in amusement, taking his own eating utensils in hand before he takes a bite. Delicious, for a reclusive tavern in a small corner of Kethelan. Not quite how he’d ask it to be done, but he still doesn’t carry any complaints. “Very well, then. Five silver as a tithe to… the Mortadias and their willful followers.” And he sets it out in front of her, on the small coffee table in front of them before forking up some of the vegetables. Between bites, a thought occurs to him, and after some contemplation, he decides to speak it aloud. “I know your relationship with my… my faith is not at a good standing. But I thank you for giving me your trust today. With Wyll— and after that, too.” He glances at Iolanthe sideways, brows screwed upwards with a pair of silver puppy dog eyes. Another bite, another swallow. “Your company is most welcome.”

Iolanthe makes quick work of her meal, legs pulled up onto the couch and folded under her as she cuts into her steak. The clink of the silver on the table makes her lips twitch. She ignores it, for now, chewing slowly and swallowing as Aurum speaks. "Commendable," she echoes. The word bleeds across her tongue, ashen in taste. "I fear you've misjudged me. I don't serve a higher calling for the praise. I serve because I must. Because I am nothing and have nothing without it. And besides," she tilts her head in his direction, "the tithe was just a joke." The amusement must show in her eyes. The spark of mischief. The teasing. "I don't often hear that, even so," she continues. "Praise, that is. Or that my company is welcome." A pause. Another bite. "I've found you don't make many friends serving the Lord and Lady of Bones. It can be... lonely, at times, I admit."

“All part of the natural cycle.” Aurum hums in admiration, filling in the gaps of silence between each bite. Before long, his food is gone, that cider is half empty, and his belly is full. “Emaroth’s religious restrictions and distaste for those that aren’t under the Silver Sun have put a great chokehold on the land. It’s ironic, but… I pray in a few years time, things will be more welcoming here. For people like you, and others.” He sighs, standing to place his plate atop the end table by the door, lest he forget to take it out later on. Turning back, he places his hands on his hips, giving Iolanthe a once over. “I’ve read those under the Lady of Bones are often midwives. Is this true?” The paladin sounds curious, intrigued, all the while taking her finished plate and stacking it onto his.

Iolanthe considers his words awhile, taking a mite longer to clear her plate than he. She sips at the cider filling her glass in thought. “The Church’s intolerance of differing faiths plays a heavy hand,” she ventures, “but even if it didn’t, I don’t foresee the gods of death ever becoming… popular.” He doesn’t sit again after he takes her dirty dishes to stack them atop his own. The distance yawns a valley between them. Is this all he wants, then? Just to talk? Iolanthe turns her head to the side, considering. It wouldn’t be so bad. Even if she’s just as unpracticed at this as she is at… everything else. “…It is,” she says at length. She pulls her legs up onto the couch and tucks them underneath her, clasping her hands atop her thigh. “Midwives, morticians, gravediggers, healers… Sometimes soldiers. Inquisitors. Monster hunters. Those on a holy mission to root out necromancers and the undead.” After a pause, she turns to gaze vaguely in Aurum’s direction. “Sit with me, Oathkeeper. The formalities have their charms, but you do me a disservice standing clear across the room. I won’t bite you. I’ve already had my fill.”

#what if you were a paladin of the same religion that was responsible for my spouse's death #and you challenged my hatred and grief #and also we were so sun and moon coded. what then.#auuugghhh I miss playing her!! I miss the milf!!!#🌿.txt #my writing #and my partner's :)

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