#sometimes izzy tries to write

[lumenizampel]

wash off the reflection

Rook and Taash – both qunari, both with gender crap. But Rook seems to be more comfortable in their own skin. Taash will see the physical evidence of it. (Contains vague spoilers for Taash's storyline; featuring my they/them lesbian Rook, Mir Aldwir. Also on AO3. )

The Hossberg Wetlands is… so gross.

There isn’t much to see here. The view in Lavendel has been slim pickings – it’s just the blight and whatever has been released in the air. The air contaminant is definitely settling on Taash’s skin because–

Well! It’s just hard to explain. Taash already wants to go back just five minutes after stepping out of the eluvian. And they thought they’re already pretty gross. They can’t be blamed if they want to avoid dipping any body part in anything wet… but there’s a dragon to hunt and some darkspawn to kill.

So they’re still here. To dip their feet in blight. But then…

There's Rook.

(Rook. Is that even their real name? Taash guesses it isn’t. It’s still a pretty good nickname.)

Rook is too damn helpful. It’s pissing Taash off.

They’re always on their feet to help people. They’ve talked to wardens. Even spirits. Demons? Some other people? And while there’s something to adore in that…

They are dealing with a blight. A blight with a splash zone.

Something sticks onto Rook’s short cloudy hair. It definitely wasn’t clean. The water on their face (if it can even be called water) almost smudges his gold vitaar into a coppery smudge. And he’s doing a pretty good job pretending not to care… even if Taash is sure Rook won’t wear this armor out in a while.

Rook pierces another cyst of blight with their mageblade. Taash isn’t sure why they couldn’t just shoot a beam onto it. Isn’t that the better thing to do? But there goes another splash of blight stuff onto their skin.

“The blight really makes you feel gross.” Rook finally complains. They push some hair back like a gross hair gel – they’re trying and failing to get some of it off. “I could use a bath.”

A bath? Taash speaks their mind before they can stop it.

“Can I join?”

A pause as Rook figures out what that means. They end up chuckling. “What?”

“Can I join?” Taash repeats themselves. They’re in taamlok – they can ask for this. “I wanna bathe too. This stuff is gross.”

A long pause. What’s Rook thinking about? Definitely a lot of things.

But they’re just presenting a mutual opportunity to destress. Nothing more to it.

(Maybe there’s more to it.)

“Are you trying to have sex with me?” Rook does a good job of mimicking Taash’s tone. They’re standing there like they’re accepting their fate in the dirt and grime. “You could be more subtle, vhenan.”

All Taash could do is grumble. Especially over vhenan. They don’t need to know what it means – it’s endearment.

And this isn’t for sex. Definitely not.

Taash thinks there’s more to Rook than Dalish leathers and golden vitaar and they want to see it all. They seem to have all this gender stuff figured out. Way more than I have, Taash thinks. All that talk of clothing and presentation and feeling themselves in their own skin… There has to be physical evidence of it.

Right?

“But that’s what I want.”

“Ever heard of foreplay, Taash?”

How is Taash supposed to know that? They aren’t good at words – they breathe fire and not poetry. Their own gender does have to be spelled out to them (mostly) and all the words and terms get lost on what they really want. They’re smart but Rook knows smart better.

Rook would want subtle even if they don’t say it. They grew up around elves for fuck’s sake. They have to want subtle… right?

Back to the now. Taash could smell that musk of desire from them and it's unmistakable through whatever bog is in the Wetlands air. They’d be doing unspeakable things if they weren’t gross.

Fuck subtle.

“You’re boring.” The mystery goop is stuck between the seams of their armor – a struggle to take off and the unsexiest thing they can think of. “The dragon lair stuff? You don’t wanna continue?”

They hear Rook laugh awkwardly. Taash knows that’s just the sound of the flirting working. Rook is a little too expressive for their own good – so easy to read with how their eye glints and his brows furrow. He probably hasn’t been swept off his feet before.

“You’re right.” Rook chuckles after the long silence. “I’m not done with you just yet.”

“That’s my line! You’re the unsubtle one now.”

“It’s fun to tease you.”

Another beat of awkward silence. Taash fills it with their rampant imagination as they take out more darkspawn and “clean” themselves with slightly lighter wetland water. What is Rook like with all their armor stripped? With the luxury of identity made on their body?

There’s definitely worse problems to consider.

Like…

“Is there even a way to bathe in the Lighthouse?”

Rook laughs. “I will find a way, Taash. Don’t worry about it.”

Taash has never been more excited about a bath before.

--

“How did you get a bathtub here?”

“I bought it in Dock Town.”

Rook struggles to fill buckets of warm water for the bath. The steam rises and condenses on the edges. Taash could feel its warmth from where they're standing.

The pearly finish of the ceramic tub feels nice against Taash’s palms. The heat burns through their calluses. “Must be pricey.”

That might have been taken as a slight because Rook is quick to be defensive. “Varric pays me, you know,” Rook says as if they were accused of a crime. “I didn’t use our collective money for this.”

“M’not saying anything,” Taash says. “Pearl is pricey. Shines nicer and all that. Didn’t know you got expensive taste.”

“We went to a bath house before. Varric wanted to reward me.” Rook was quiet for a while as they poured another bucket of hot water in the tub. Taash doesn’t know Varric that well... But they also don’t go to the infirmary that much. “The pearl was nice. It kept the water hot.”

Taash isn’t going to unpack all that. Rook sounds like he felt like mentioning it but doesn’t feel like talking about it fully. They don’t know how they picked that up.

So they just grumble in assent. Best they can do.

There’s a way wider but shallower tub right beside the warm bathtub. It’s probably meant to wash off actual dirt before soaking in the warm water. The condensation drips at the edge of the linen lining and back at the rest of the wooden tub.

Taash could smell… something from it. Rosebuds? It’s different from the Arlathan mint they’ve started associating with Rook.

They don't even let sink in that they are in Rook’s room – Solas’s meditation chamber in the lighthouse. The whole room is covered by the teal hue of the aquarium that’s in there somehow. There’s light reflecting off of the trinkets scattered on desks and tables…. flowers and knives and jars of vitaar and weird globes that spin on their own.

Flowers – the Brona’s bloom that Rook (and Taash) likes. A banner with the iconic Veil Jumper triangle tiles that glow in gold against teal and orange embroidery. A couch and table that’s pushed to the side and a table of scented candles that are lit and a little too strong for Taash’s senses.

There’s no bed. Is it really just the couch? They sleep like this?

Maybe that’s why Rook likes their room. They’ve been sleeping there a lot. Rook insists it's because Taash is warm… but now they know why. They make a mental note to wander around the lighthouse and see if there’s a better bed for him.

They snuff out two of the strongest candles on the set. They’re here for a bath.

“Strip.” Taash makes a move as Rook finishes up filling the bath. Tries to pull off Rook’s scarf and watches leathers resist. “I’ll clean you up.”

Rook stiffens. “You sure?”

“I’m the one asking.” Pulls again. The scarf comes off to reveal the skin of his neck. “Just get naked.”

There’s a lot of buttons on Rook’s clothes that Taash undoes. Wading through Veil Jumper triangles stitched lovingly even if they’re sloppy. They remember Shathann teaching them about ladder stitches and back stitches and cross stitching.

It was boring. But it felt good to stab something.

Rook has set aside a separate bucket of soapy water for their clothes so it’s left soaking on something. The belt comes off. Shiny. The cummerbund follows. It’s heavy – it’s wet. The leather vest soon followed. Thrown into the sudsy bucket without much applause to a job well done of protecting its wearer.

“Taash, I can clean myself.” There’s more stitches – embroidery – on his inner shirt. Unscathed. Did Rook embroider these plants? They’re green and gold – Rook’s colors.

“What if I want to clean you?” The stitches are pushed away as the shirt comes off little by little. “Just be good and shut up and let me scrub you down.”

Rook is quiet. Taash can guess they aren’t used to being taken care of… or resisting. Taash does quick work of undressing themselves – the night becomes less of cleaning up and more of discovering and filling the blanks.

But the bath sounds appealing. More so with the handsome qunari with them.

So they will undress. No shame in nudity.

Both of them are left with their smallclothes that are fortunately still fairly clean. Now that’s a view Taash can appreciate.

Rook looks…

Not bad.

Good.

Unexpected. Different.

There’s a lot of scars atop tattoos that are also covered by vitaar. The gold of eyeliner and vitaar reaches and blends into the lines of tattoos and scars as if they’re made for each other. It’s just weird to see Rook like this. And Rook does seem to agree with how awkwardly they’re standing.

It’s fine. Rook is fine. They’re definitely not that good-looking. It’s not like that tattoo on their chest is anything Taash has seen peeking over their shirt before.

They’re here for a bath. Right.

Stuff was set at the side for the bath on a nearby chair. There’s a prepared scrub brush. A bottle of something – oil? A bar of soap… and a ball of something powdery and chalky beside it. There’s a dipper in the shallow tub for the presumed cleaning and much of the surface dirt comes off of Rook’s skin with a single warm pour from it–

“Hey!” Rook stands up before their smallclothes get wet, moving closer to the soap bucket. “Give me a moment.”

“Hurry up!” Taash almost laughs. “Water’s getting colder!”

“I’m a mage, and you breathe fire.” There’s a smirk in Rook’s voice. They unhook the clothing on top of their chest. Breasts reveal their shape like magic as the binder is thrown in the laundry bucket. “Let’s take our time to clean up. We rarely get the opportunity.”

Taash couldn’t help but sigh. “You’re right. Go be naked or whatever.”

“You’re acting like you don’t enjoy the view.” As if to torture, Rook slows down as they pull their bottoms down their thigh. As if Taash couldn’t see weight pushing against it before or the coarse hair bordering the goods already. “I know you like it.”

They do.

“Well I’d like it now.”

He moves to show. Sets a leg aside somehow. And then Rook diligently and obediently returns to their place… crosses their legs and looks up.

“Foreplay, foreplay.”

Whatever. They’re getting a feast for their eyes already anyway – Rook’s whole chest is bare.

They smirk. They know what’s coming next.

Yes, more water.

Just being rinsed by warmer water – Taash blows on it a little bit to regain its heat – seems to do enough relaxing for them. They sigh against the warmth of it and stop as the cold begins to prickle against their skin.

“That feels nice.” Rook sets up a stool in the shallow tub, presumably too tired to stand up for all this. Taash can work with that. It reminds them of how they bathe back home – a dipper and a pail with warm water and seated on the floor or on a stool. “It’s been a while.”

The bar of soap almost melts in Taash’s hands. It’d be good enough for Rook’s hair. The suds seem bubbly enough.

“I’m surprised we don’t bathe more often.” The seated position is perfect so that Taash can reach every nook and cranny of Rook’s scalp. “Blight is really gross.”

“Not really a lot of time for it. Half baths are quicker, and not everyone has time to get water from…” Rook thinks about it. They give up and shrug. “Well, wherever.”

“You still look hot when you’re stinky.”

“So you’ve been staring? You could at least tell me if I look like an idiot.” Rook suddenly looks embarrassed now through their laughter. Taash bets he’d be covering himself with his hands if they weren’t taking a bath. “Wait, I know. I do. I’m sorry I don’t look good.”

The water underneath them settles into a mirror finish and Taash couldn’t help but stare at the reflection of Rook.

A reflection.

Taash doesn’t see a lot of qunari outside the Lords. So they just thought qunari is just that – rare. Taash knows maybe four qunari that their mom approves of… and they all look the same. Typical Qunari women all look the same. Big and tall but slender. No dar-saam in sight. Still so distinctly qunari. There is a role they play and they look the part and play it well even outside the Qun.

Taash can’t put their finger on why Rook is so… familiar? It may be the stature. Rook’s wide shoulders and bulky physique is even more evident without their leathers. But almost all qunari are like that… so maybe that’s not it.

Rook is Dalish. Still qunari… but still Dalish. It somehow shows in the way they handle themselves. A shame so distinctly elven that is difficult to describe. It isn’t just on the outfit and not just on the tattoos – not quite vallaslin. Not the halla etched on their skin.

“You look good.” Taash returns to rubbing suds into his curls and the edges of their horns. They can feel the blight goop between the soap – not a good feeling. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“Sorry.” Rook looks up at them. Smiles like a kid. “You look good too, by the way.”

And somehow it works on Taash. They’d die before they admit it. “Thanks.”

“What a sweet-talker you are.”

“Shut up.”

A moment of silence passes as Taash washes off the soap. Bits of gold come off as the runoff goes to Rook’s face, but it doesn’t entirely wash off clean. Part-makeup and part-vitaar if Taash can guess. Bits of black also flow down Rook’s eyes – a mix of mascara and eyeliner. Not the most long-lasting makeup… but the vitaar probably helps its longevity in the field.

Rook breaks the silence. They’re still staring. “Can I clean you up, too?”

“Later.” Taash can safely say they’re excited for that. They know how Rook’s hands feel. But there’s a task that needs to be done right now. “You first. Stay still.”

“Can you get me the oil? For the vitaar.”

So that’s what the bottle is for. Taash doesn’t need to wait before pouring a little bit on their own palm and rubbing it on Rook’s face themselves.

“You okay?”

“Nothing. Just…” Thumbs massage around and over Rook’s eyes. Taash can feel the last remnants of the makeup and vitaar come off under their fingertips. “I’ve never been washed this thoroughly before.”

The gold looks muddy once it's an oily smudge on Rook’s face. It’s funny. They also look wrong without all of it.

“Wait ‘til I get to the rest of ya. You rinse this off with water?”

Rook nods as the water emulsifies – emulsifies? – the oil into milky water. Their bare face makes every feature so much more noticeable. The eyelids and the nose and the eyebrows…

“Is there stuff left on my face?”

Taash blinks. “What?”

“You’re staring.”

Were they? There’s a lot to stare at.

Is this what museums feel like? When you find a painting that just calls to you?

It’s fine. Nothing special. It’s just the gold.

Just gold?

“Nothing.” Taash lies through their teeth. As if they weren’t just counting every speck of gold that got washed down. “I thought your brows were drawn on.”

Rook laughs. They’re not buying that at all. “I wish they were.” But they’re playing along. There are strands of eyebrows just sticking out of their prescribed shape. “They never seem to stay in place.”

“You’re not doing a good job.” They furrow even more as Taash pinches on Rook’s cheeks. Just making sure there’s no more paint. “I can always tell that you're angry ‘cause of it.”

There’s always a glimmer in Rook's eyes. But they always seem to shine more when it’s directed towards Taash. “You like it?”

Does Taash like… what? Like how their brows furrow when they’re mad? When the skin between them wrinkle when something about the gods is brought up? How they bite their lip or how the gold between their eyes become more visible when they’re deep in thought?

Or how much Taash knows all this somehow – knows what makes Rook tick and scream and move?

Hard to say what exactly.

But they’re sure about something.

“You’re so fucking hot when you’re mad.”

Rook laughs. Heard so much that it’s added to the list of Taash’s favorite sounds – a list none of them knew existed. “Lots of things to be mad at.”

“Like?”

“Ghilan'nain, Elgar'nan… Solas.”

Of course.

“Solas.”

Suddenly there was nothing to laugh at. They’re just two non-binary qunaris hanging around a shallow tub. Taash notices Rook’s eyes follow the waves of the light dancing against their walls. It’s as if they’re all suddenly realizing the situation – the place.

A place where Rook can’t even get a decent bed – or a bath – without much outside intervention. So much for this lighthouse. So much for the Veilguard’s base. They’re crashing the place. Everything feels like those spikes they put on walls so birds don’t perch on them. The couch. The fish tank covering everything in a sickly blue green.

“Is he here? Is that idiot listening?”

“He doesn’t really comment on things I do, Taash.” Rook stays as still as possible as Taash gives their back a quick but thorough scrub. Just to finish off this clean-up. “He’s a voice in my head, but he’s more like a whisper.”

“If he ever comes out, I’m beating the shit out of him.”

“That’s a bad idea.”

“Why? He’s just a scrawny man!”

“What is it with ‘elven god of lies’ that doesn’t make sense to you?”

“He can’t lie to me if he's dead on the floor.”

More of that laughter from Rook. Taash decides right on the spot they’ll chase it if needed. “I wish you’re in my head to beat him up, but I’m sure you won’t like it.”

“You haven’t even asked me yet!”

“It’s like asking you if you’d like me if I was a worm.” There’s a prickle of the cold air beneath Rook’s skin. They’re itching for that bath. “I already know the answer, you know?”

“I’d just be a worm with you. We can hang out. Eat dirt. Whatever worms do.” Taash shrugs. Pours more warm bath water on Rook’s shoulders. It will do for now. “See? I would say yes to being in your head or whatever.”

A breath – or a relieved sigh? – escapes Rook. They don’t have a witty retort for this one. Nothing but a soft smile and a relieved stare. As if it answered something. Or maybe it gave him some comfort.

Taash isn’t about to guess. If it helped…

Whatever it is, they hope it did.

“My turn.” Taash puts down the water dipper and pulls on the strings of their own smallclothes. “You said you wanted to clean me up?”

A pause. Rook picks up the water dipper. And then turns around as Taash was about to pull off their bottoms.

“Right.”

Right. There’s nothing wrong with being naked around Rook. This is a bath. They’ve been in bathhouses before. They’ve been naked around other people before.

Something about how Rook’s stare lingers – follows – the path of their bottom to their legs is making this feel different.

It’s nothing.

Probably he’s just as curious as they are.

That’s got to be it.

There’s not much to hide. Taash is proud of the body they’ve built. It’s not like Rook’s but it has served them well and that’s all that matters to them. And they know they’re attractive.

And they know it’s making Rook’s head turn... among other things at least.

“Lots to look at?”

“I do need to look a little closer, yes.”

“For what?”

“Dirt. Aren’t you here to be cleaned up?”

“Mhm.”

Yep. Taash still got it. That’s basically Rook’s eyelashes fluttering.

Taash sat down and Rook got to work very quickly. Removing Taash’s braid was first in order. They rarely put their hair down around other people – it just looks too feminine. At least it’s out of the way when it’s up.

But Rook has makeup. It doesn’t change who they are. Why does hair matter? Taash also wears eyeliner and the tiniest glint of blue eyeshadow – it just feels right. It’s not supposed to be girly. They don’t wear big girly eyeshadow or make their face look softer or wear bold lipstick.

“Taash.”

Rook wears lipstick. They wear it so often that Taash sees chips of it on the corners of their lips as they walk closer with a comb and some water. The chips are black and Taash has memorized how it feels – it’s dry sometimes and sticky sometimes. They know because they feel it against their own lips when they ki–

Cold water washes over their shoulders and it makes Taash almost jump.

“Hey!”

Rook doesn’t seem guilty of their little prank as he moves in front of them. The way their eyes narrow and smile as they laugh is cute. “Just making sure you’re still here.”

“I’m sitting right here. Where’s my bath?”

“No!” There’s a hint of playfulness in Rook’s tone. “You’re getting bored!”

“I’m not! You’re putting words in my mouth again.”

“Stop staring off into the fucking fish tank and look at me when I wash you, then.”

Oh.

Wow.

Alright then.

Taash is here for that. To look… and to get washed.

So that’s what they do – watch. And Rook finally pours warm water onto their hair – releasing a breath Taash didn’t know they were holding. Rook is standing so close against them even as he moves behind them to tend to their hair. They feel certain parts of his waist and breast graze against the skin of their back. It’s almost ticklish. Taash didn’t know they were ticklish.

Obviously Taash can’t watch Rook when the person is right behind them. They settle with what little reflects on the pool below them both. Rook’s brows are furrowed as they scrub on their horns and the scalp around it.

It’s relaxing – to be tended.

Cared for.

Don't mind the Dalish aspect of it. It can be learned. Always a lot of stuff to learn. About the world and themselves. Other groups of people. Their companions and–

Rook.

Lots of things to learn about Rook. Lots of things Taash already knows about Rook.. The gender. The body. The way they cover that body. Set dressing and flavorings and sounds and smells. Their identity–

“Is Rook even your real name?”

He stops. The question definitely caught Rook off-guard.

“I don’t use my real name. It’s…” The slightest graze of the dipper against their shoulder. Rook doesn’t know what to do. “Let’s just say I just don’t like how it feels. It’s my name, but it feels odd when I see or hear it used.”

Taash has heard of that kind of thing before. It’s very common with people like them – different. Queer. The old name is like a shed horn – doesn’t quite fit the same after your horn starts growing back and making a new shape.

But ‘not quite fitting’ is different from hurt. Discomfort is not… it’s not hurt.

“Does it hurt? Or it’s just strange?”

“It’s just weird. Like you said about your pronouns, it’s like armor that doesn’t quite fit right.” Rook’s hand is warm against their shoulder as he finally stands and returns in front of them. The view is magnificent. “Can you take off your piercing?”

Rook picks up the oil – presumably to also wash their eyeliner off. And Taash obeys the order and they take off the piercing and put it aside. It’s nice to smile and sit and just let Rook do their caring. The oil is slick but strangely not thick against their face. They don’t have much eyeliner or vitaar to wash off.

There’s a thin layer of skin on Rook’s palms that’s rough but strangely comforting. It scratches as it travels down their neck. It does a good job of scrubbing dirt at the back of their ears without a brush. Taash feels clean. New.

“I can still tell you, you know.”

“What?”

“My name.” Rook’s figure comes into view. It’s like looking at them after they just woke up – hazy and a little blurred. “Just promise to still call me Rook–”

“No. Don’t.” Taash stops that thought before it develops. Their curiosity cannot hurt Rook. “Ignore me. Just be comfortable.”

“Are you sure? I really don’t mind, Taash–”

“Yes.”

A pause. A really long pause. Rook makes a face as they resume scrubbing their neck. “Alright, then.”

There’s a hint of a sigh there. Taash isn’t going to question it any further.

Rook just focuses and returns to washing Taash’s hair. No one has done this before for them. And as Rook does it – rubs the suds in the scalp…. It’s nice. As if Rook reached into their skull to scratch an unreachable itch. They don’t even notice the soap. The suds and the washing. Their hair feels lighter despite the water.

Taash opens their eyes to see Rook –

Close.

They’re so close.

So close to touch. So close to just–

Hold.

Sex is so easy. Taash is mentally gnawing their teeth. The wait is so long. Rook is right here. Right here!

Taash grabs on to Rook’s waist on both sides and pulls them a bit closer. And Rook doesn’t flinch or react – they even hum to themselves. They just watch the chest rise and fall as they breathe. Watches the tattoos move as they do. Map out all their scars and decide where to–

Wait. What’s that?

There is a faint scratch of a scar under both of Rook’s breasts and the teal light almost shines against it like a gold stitch. They almost look like a line of stars. And Taash feels like doing more than stargazing.

“What’s this?” Taash doesn’t hold back on inspecting it further – it’s smooth yet faint against the calluses on their fingertips. “Where’d you get these?”

“Oh!” Rook is still washing their hair. Gladly they’re at the rinsing part. “That’s just surgery.”

That’s said a little too casually. “Surgery?”

“I tried getting my… breasts reduced,” Rook starts. He seems… embarrassed? “You know, for the look. But I didn’t go all the way, so they just… grew back.”

And maybe for good reason. Taash doesn’t know half the things he said. “What? That happens?”

“Yeah… I was planning on trying again, but all this happened, so…”

Rook lets all that trail off into silence and continues the washing. He lifts their arm up. Gets the underside of the arm. Scrubs diligently like their life depended on it.

Taash isn’t going to overthink that. It’s Rook. They will figure it all out. He doesn't need their comfort. Rook gets to the other arm. Scrubs. Washes.

Kneels. They splash around in the water. They put their hands on their left thigh. On Taash’s inner thigh.

It’s there for longer than a moment.

“Do you feel weird when people call you Evataash?”

Left thigh straightened. Rook’s hand tickles the crook of their knee as they scrub a nook they always forget to clean. Something tingles.

“It’s… It’s a nickname.” Taash looks away. Are they embarrassed? The flowers look pale by the aquarium light. “Some people think it’s my fuller name. It might as well be. Everyone calls me that. But Taash just feels nice. It’s actually me.”

Rook chuckles. They’ve moved on to cleaning their calves. “I mean you are my little dragon.”

“Laaaame.”

“You like it like that.”

“I dunno why. You’re boring.”

They didn’t seem offended by it. Either Rook doesn’t think it’s serious or they genuinely don’t mind being called that. “With the blight around Thedas, boring can be good.”

Rook was quick with cleaning off the dirt on their feet. They stand up. Rinses off all the soap and dirt. Smiles.

“Done.” Rook pulls Taash up. Now they’re two naked qunari standing around. Rook smirks as he catches Taash looking. “Now let’s not make the water get any colder now, yeah?”

“Yeah. Right.”

The water is spitting hot in the large ceramic tub by the time Rook dips their toes in. No way Taash is letting them bathe in cold water after they’ve been scrubbed so clean they feel like a newborn.

And Rook enjoys the heat. The way their eyes close and their head leans back against the pearl is… satisfying? A job well done for both of them. The tub is big enough for the both of them and Taash just watches Rook sigh against the heat from across them.

They sound so pleased. So satisfied…

Taash can tell they have a few minutes before Rook succumbs to the heat and passes out. They have to do something. What were they here for again? To just bathe?

Throw that in the trash. Taash knows what they’re here for. To look–

No. That can’t be right. They’ve looked too much. They’ve had enough of just looking. They’re here to claim–

“You can call me ‘Mir’ if you want.”

Huh?

Taash scoffs. That was so sudden. “What happened to ‘I didn’t like my real name’?”

“It’s just a nickname. ‘Rook’ is just a nickname, too.” Rook– Mir’s eyes are closed. Taash can almost imagine the gold glint on them. “I’d love it if you of all people actually called me by my real name.”

“Why? Why me specifically?”

“Same reason you want to tell your mother about the real you.”

What is the reason?

Rook – Mir – used to not care about that. Coming out. They kept saying it was stupid. That most people just don't deserve the real you. They’ve watched as Mir endured several assumptions about their identity and they just sat back and did nothing. It isn’t worth a fight, Mir would often say. And they’re right – they ask so much from the people they often talk to that a simple word isn’t worth ruining potential help.

But it makes Taash upset when people do that. So they correct other people several times for Mir’s sake. Refer to Rook with masculine or gender-neutral terms or you will have worse things to worry about.

It’s just different from coming out to family… from a loved one. People close to you have to know their new self. The people you love deserve the real you–

Oh.

Oh! Has Taash been this slow before?

They lean their face against the tub. Do they feel hot? Is it the literal fire inside them or something else?

“Mir is nice.” It came out a little quieter than Taash thought. “And I can call you that?”

“I am asking you if you can call me that, so yes.” And Mir’s voice is even quieter. So much that the rumble of the aquarium beside them seems louder. “It sounds nice when you say it.”

Mir is falling asleep. They can hear the drowsiness thicken their voice. Quick, Taash thinks, do something–

“Don’t fall asleep!” Taash sits up and paws their way to Mir. They’re obviously kicking up water but it barely matters now – the chase for a different kind of warmth has come to a head. They hover over Mir to pull them up from sinking into the somewhat deep water.

There’s that warmth against their skins. Wet. Warm. It’s calling.

Taash leans Mir up against them – a bit awkward for a half-embrace but it’s better than nothing. The tub is a little too big for the both of them but Mir settles closer. They slot together perfectly. Mir’s broken horn makes way and they’re close and warm against Taash’s neck.

“I’m tired. Can’t blame me.” Mir moves little by little as if ensuring their perfect fit. “Chat me up more, then.”

Every whisper is rendering Taash crazy but they chuckle and laugh through it. They grip on Mir’s back with the arm around him like they’d sink otherwise. “You happy in life right now?”

“Yeah. This is nice. I like this.” Mir’s arm wraps around Taash’s back like they’re an oversized live stuffed animal. “Gods aside, I like that you’re here.”

“What do you like about me being here? Make me feel good about myself.”

“You’re a shoulder to lean on.”

Huh.

Not the answer Taash expected.

“What else? Don’t be lame.”

“I care about you, so I like seeing you around.”

“Lame.”

“You change a little bit of yourself everyday. I see you grow into a person you will enjoy being yourself in.”

“And you like that?”

“It’s nice. I know I’ll like the you that comes out after it, and everything else after. You get me?”

Taash… doesn’t get it. At all.

Doesn’t get why Mir is like this. Why they always seem to want something… different? It is a desire but it feels strange. Is it a desire to touch? An admiration of the body–

The water stills and Taash sees them both on the reflection even if the ripple distorts the image. And then it hits.

An admiration.

That’s where it all went wrong. This isn't a desire at all. That isn’t what Taash is smelling or feeling.

It’s adoration. Admiration. Liking the reflection. Rook – Mir – is someone they dreamed themselves of being. Liking someone for the look and the skin. They like themselves but they like Mir better. It doesn’t make any sense – it’s hard to describe but it isn’t lust. It’s not quite a desire of the body like they usually feel. They like the skin they’re feeling against their palm but they don’t want Mir like how they first thought.

Why? On what way? Is it boring? Is it normal? Nothing about Taash is normal. But Rook seems so… okay?

But they’re the same. How normal and lame and boring it is. How dull this is. A bath. Where would Mir be now if it wasn’t for the blight? If it wasn’t for Solas? Probably doing Veil Jumper things in the forest with elf stuff. And they never would have met.

But they’re the same.

Mir went through a lot as well to be the person that they are right now. The difference is that Taash wasn’t there to witness it all. Mir saw the way they stumbled. The way they cried. The way they mourned and broke and got back up. Rook already went through a lot. They’ve built themselves already – Taash is just picking up the bricks now. But they know they’ll end up with the same thing.

They’re the same.

And Taash kinda likes it like that.

Unfortunately.

“You also kiss good, but you don’t need to hear that.”

The silence must have been confusing for Mir. Taash appreciates the slight change of topic – anything to distract from this stupid realization. “You think I kiss good?”

Mir answers without thinking about it. “Yeah.”

The realization that this person Taash is willing to be a fool for – this qunari with the same hair color and same broken horn and same-ish body type – is someone they more than like–

This is silly.

Rook is just right here.

Taash was going for a sniff – not like they need a closer smell to know how he’s dozing off at this point. But Mir’s neck is a little too inviting… and they’re very hungry.

Then a kiss. Mir did say they like how they kiss. Taash gives him just that. Mir kisses back – they haven’t passed out quite yet. It was soft. It feels different after the realization. But also maybe because they couldn’t taste his lipstick.

And before Taash knows it – they feel the skin of Mir’s neck against their teeth. It resists as it often does. They can taste the soap and the ink on the tattoos… themselves if Taash closes their eyes. They smell and taste so similar nowadays and it doesn’t help now that they’re using the same soap.

Mir groans as he feels Taash’s teeth let up and sink again on his shoulder. Not quite to draw blood and Taash knows it doesn’t hurt like a wound. All of these will leave marks either way. And that’s good. A little more to add on the vitaar and the scars and the tattoos. Decoration for the temple that is Rook’s body.

“Taash…” Rook smiles against the bite somehow. Laughs as if it’s ticklish. But the fatigue is winning and Taash doesn’t really want to hurt Mir any more than is pleasurable. Taash knows Mir like this but they know his limits.

The frustration is out of their system anyway. They rise up and break away with their arm still around him and Rook just smiles like they just heard something entertaining. His eyes are still closed – it’s somewhat endearing.

“I’m still here.” Taash pulls Mir closer. “You can rest if you want.”

“Mhm… Thank you.”

So polite even as he’s slowly falling asleep. “You’re silly. Just nap.”

It’s not a good idea to fall asleep in a bathtub with warm water. But for Rook… Taash will let it slide.

At least this just gives them time to think. As if they haven’t been thinking about them for the past few minutes already. Shit like ‘what would it be like if I never met Rook’ or some silly crap–

Fine. It’s true.

They’re stupid. This is all so so stupid.

But they’ll take stupid over not meeting Mir at all. Turns out that it’s really hard to think about those kinds of scenarios when the person in question is peacefully dozing off beside you. For now… they just need a quick path to dry Mir off so they can sleep in a dry place.

And after that? They can go back to pretending that all this – the bath and the kisses and Mir – is just a distraction to make them feel better about themselves. Because what else is all this if not like their usual intimacies with others?

That’s what Taash does best after all.

Be confused and feel like a fool.

[asneakyfox]

i tend to be pretty cynical whenever actors start talking about how their onscreen chemistry comes from their offscreen relationship and honestly when i hear that sort of thing 90% of the time i assume it is just marketing. and in fact i did assume that was the deal with rhys & taika at first, like, i got into the show and heard people talking about how they've been besties for twenty years and my immediate reflexive assumption was "ok, so they've known each other for a long time but the idea that they're actually especially close is probably bullshit."

i do not think that anymore, because in this one case you can pretty easily look up video of the two of them interacting years before ofmd existed in contexts where they have no particular incentive to be playing up their friendship for the camera and no they are actually just like that.

so it IS interesting how this plays into the show, right? all the talk about whether rhys and taika have sexual chemistry is weird to me not only because i think they do have it but also because frankly sexual chemistry is cheap, you can get that anywhere. i can think of a LOT of tv/movie romances where the actors do a fine job conveying a sense of sexual passion but absolutely comprehensively fail at convincing me that these people actually like each other very much, which for me usually kills any chance i'll actually get very invested in it as a relationship. ed & stede i think we can agree do not have that problem.

i don't believe in love at first sight and honestly i don't even tend to find it a compelling idea in a fictional context. best friends at first sight is a real thing though, it's happened to me, sometimes you meet a new person who is so immediately on your wavelength that you're acting like you've been friends for twenty years when you've actually known each other for two hours. it turns out you can convincingly simulate this by casting actors who've actually been best friends for twenty years and telling them to pretend they just met.

anyway though the thing i wonder about sometimes is how much this is rhys & taika's irl friendship helping bring out something that was already there in the story vs how much it's the scripts being written to bring out something i suspect rhys & taika wouldn't really be able to NOT do if they tried.

david jenkins and the ofmd writers' room do seem to let the actors influence how they write characters a lot - you can see this especially with izzy and jim in s2, after they knew con and vico better than in s1. and writing ed & stede's first meeting as the two of them deciding to swap clothes and do an incomprehensible improv bit that's extremely fun for the two of them but baffles and infuriates everyone else around them when they have known each other less than an hour is a really weird choice even by contrived romcom meet-cute standards. but then you read about rhys & taika during the filming of ofmd s1 deciding to walk around set sipping nonalcoholic whiskey pretending to be drunk in order to freak out everyone else there and you have to consider that maybe it felt natural to write ed & stede that way because that is just what rhys & taika are like

[anakinstwinklebunny]

HI HELLO scooter barringer anon here

i meant just regular scott 😭 imbjust bad at typing

Author's note: it's okay Nonnie 😭😭 although I didn't feel like writing smut headcanons cause we need more pureness and fluffiness in our life 🙂‍↕️

SCOTT BARRINGER who's the definition of tortured golden boy. On the outside, he’s that easily cool, confident guy, but underneath, he’s filled with guilt and self-doubt. He hides behind charm and a cocky grin, but his heart? Oh, it’s soft and aching for someone to truly see and love him.

SCOTT BARRINGER who is the kind of guy to tease you endlessly but gets adorably flustered the moment you actually flirt back.

SCOTT BARRINGER who falls hard and fast, even if he’s scared to admit it. He always tries to keep some walls up, but one soft look from you? They’re crumbling faster than he can stop it. He'd also the one to often checks your social media, hoping to see more photos of your pretty face without filters

SCOTT BARRINGER who worships you in his own way--fixing your things when you ask so nicely, remembering the little things you say in passing, and showing up when you need him most, even if it’s 3 a.m.

SCOTT BARRINGER who's not really great with words, but his actions scream «I love you». Like when he lingers a second longer after kissing your forehead or when he pulls you closer in his sleep, mumbling your name in this drowsy tone. Holding your hand whenever you walk beside him

SCOTT BARRINGER who's love language is music

SCOTT BARRINGER who has a playlist for every mood, and whether he admits it or not, you’re the inspiration behind most of his song choices.

SCOTT BARRINGER who would play guitar for you, but only when he’s feeling like doing that (ofc). Mostly at night and mostly the songs are your favorite

SCOTT BARRINGER who's struggling sometimes with feeling like he’s enough for you. He’s terrified his mistakes will scare you away, but he tries so damn hard to be better for you every damn day.

SCOTT BARRINGER who, when he’s upset, retracts, but the second you're by his side, trying to actually cheer him on/help him, he’s immediately letting you hold him while he mumbles what's sitting on his chest or sometimes just being quiet while you run your fingers through his hair or press kisses to his entire face

SCOTT BARRINGER who loves holding your face when he kisses you, thumbs brushing over your cheekbones as his lips move slowly, devastatingly

SCOTT BARRINGER who's surprisingly good at cooking/making breakfast. You’ll wake up to him in the kitchen, in his shirt, making pancakes with music playing softly in the background. He'd even let you feed him off your fork, if you're lucky this day

SCOTT BARRINGER who loves cuddles (secretly). He’ll pretend he’s too cool for it, that it's not really for him but the way he pulls you into his chest at night when he thinks you're asleep says otherwise.

SCOTT BARRINGER who also loves when you play with his short hair

SCOTT BARRINGER who's protective to a fault. Anyone so much as looks at you wrong, and Scott’s stepping in, jaw tight and voice sharp, serious. «You have any problem?»

SCOTT BARRINGER who is all about love that’s soft, messy, and achingly real :((

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @deceptiive @ysrjune @anakinskwkler @bimbo-baggins17 @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @l1ttle-misssunsh1ne @anakinca

[broidobe]

𝔡𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔤𝔲𝔫𝔰 𝔫 𝔯𝔬𝔰𝔢𝔰 𝔪𝔢𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯𝔰 𝔴𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔩𝔲𝔡𝔢

requested by 🎸 and anon! this is harem so reader is dating all five of them

⁎⁺˳✧༚guns and roses masterlist

the guys don’t really talk about it explicitly, but it’s clear they all know they’re sharing you. there’s this unspoken rule: no jealousy, no drama—just everyone doing their best to make you happy.

each band member has a distinct connection with you:

axl: intense and possessive in private, though he tries not to show it too much. he’s the one to write you love letters, scribbled in the middle of the night.

slash: laid-back and easygoing, always offering to play you soft riffs when you’re stressed. he thrives on quiet moments with you, a stark contrast to his wild stage persona.

duff: the sweetheart of the group, always making sure you’re eating and drinking enough. he’s big on casual touches—an arm slung over your shoulder or a kiss on your forehead.

izzy: the mysterious one, who doesn’t always express his feelings but shows you through subtle actions. he’ll leave little gifts for you—things that remind him of you, even if it’s just a cool rock he found.

steven: playful and energetic, he’s the one who drags you out for spontaneous adventures or dances around the room with you just because. he makes you laugh the most.

being with all five of them means there’s never a dull moment, but it also means you’re the glue holding them together sometimes.

they rely on your calm presence to balance out their fiery personalities.

surprisingly, they don’t fight over who gets to spend time with you.

sometimes, it’s everyone piled together in a giant heap on the couch, passing around drinks and laughing at old stories.

other times, it’s more intimate, one-on-one moments with each of them.

while they promised to keep jealousy out of it, there are moments where they can’t help it—like axl shooting daggers at slash for making you laugh too hard, 

or steven pouting because izzy got to you first.

it never escalates, though; they all know you care about them equally.

they love showing you off at shows.

axl dedicates songs to you

duff and slash exchange knowing smiles when they catch you dancing

and steven’s grin gets impossibly wider when he sees you in the crowd.

if they ever argue, it’s usually over something trivial—like who gets to sit next to you at dinner.

you’re the one to break it up, reminding them you’re not going anywhere and that there’s enough of you to go around.

HERE ARE SOME THINGS THEY’D SAY DURING ARGUMENTS

axl:

she was laughing at my joke first, slash, so maybe back off for a second!

why does she always go to you when she’s upset? i can be comforting too, you know!

look, i’m not saying i’m her favorite, but… i mean, come on—(cue everyone groaning and throwing pillows at him)

slash:

dude, it’s not a competition. you’re making this weird.

axl, maybe if you didn’t act so intense all the time, she wouldn’t need me to calm her down.

she’s not a prize to be won, man. just… chill, okay?

duff:

guys, seriously, this is dumb. she loves all of us. can we just stop?

you’re all acting like little kids. i’ll just go hang out with her since you can’t figure it out.

fine, you sit next to her this time, axl. but next time, it’s my turn.

izzy:

are you guys really arguing over this? she doesn’t even like it when you fight.

i don’t need to argue. she already knows i’m her favorite. (delivered with a smirk that drives axl crazy)

you’re all so loud. no wonder she comes to me when she wants peace.

steven:

you’re hogging her attention again, duff! i barely got to talk to her today!

can’t we just take turns? or, like, hang out all together? this isn’t that hard!

hey, she promised to help me with my drumming! wait your turn, man!

every band member has their own little ritual with you.

maybe it’s slash teaching you guitar chords, or duff making you breakfast in bed after a late night.

these moments are their way of claiming time with you while keeping things fair.

oh and yes, they keep track of how much time is spent with you

okay steven got 6 hours yesterday so therefore I GET 6 HOURS NOT YOU

despite the unconventional setup, the band respects each other’s relationships with you.

they all know they’re better together, and sharing you only brings them closer.

they love teasing you, but it’s all affectionate. slash might smirk and call you “princess” when you’re acting stubborn, while duff gently ruffles your hair, saying, "what would you do without us?"

axl’s teasing is more pointed, like, "oh, so you liked slash’s solo better than mine last night, huh?" but he’ll always pull you in for a kiss before you can get too flustered.

if anyone so much as looks at you the wrong way, the whole band is ready to throw down. axl is the first to start yelling, while slash steps in to physically block the person.

duff plays the diplomat, trying to calm things down, but even he has his limits. if someone crosses the line, his usually easygoing demeanor vanishes in an instant.

izzy and steven are quieter about it, but they’re just as protective. steven might not look intimidating, but he’ll back you up 100%. izzy’s more about the “say that again, i dare you” vibes.

[alexanderlightweight]

Sending good vibes your way to help speed up the recovery time!

Teleporting soulmates

When one soulmate is in a panic they teleport to the other

Alec after being named interim head of the institute and getting reamed by his parents for his siblings actions having a panic attack alone in his room. He opens his eyes to what is definitely not his room in the arms of the most gorgeous man and starts panicking for a different reason

Anon I truly enjoyed testing the waters with this new verse. It was really fun to write even if Alec is sad, but he has to be sad to find magnus so he'll get over it (with magnus' help) and he would have been sad anyways so at least this way he gets Magnus out of it.

<3 lumine

not all who wander are lost

--

There is no true time frame for when a soulbond is activated.

Sometimes it happens young, sometimes when old and sometimes never at all.

At nineteen Alec has long given up hope for a soulmate.  Even if he has one, Alec doubts that it will activate. 

The weight of responsibility is heavy on Alec’s shoulders.  The crown of power is a burden, not a reward especially when Alec has no true authority.  He is a figurehead, a scapegoat, something to reduce his parents time in a city that they truly loathe and care nothing for.

Alec is fodder.

Highly valued and well-trained fodder, but he knows his place despite what others may think.

This is no reward, this is a trap.  One Alec will never be able to claw his way out of, especially not alone like he is.

Even now, his first week as a leader has gone terrible.  

Oh the Institute is running just fine.  Better than expected, actually.  However Alec’s abilities as a leader are not what he’s been castigated for.

Apparently Alec must be a soldier, leader, son, brother and a parent to his siblings.  

Soldiers who still act like children in a world where Alec was never allowed to be one.  There is no true envy, Alec would rather know the harsh reality of the world than the coddled farce Jace and Izzy currently know. But despite being the one who fixed things, he’s the only one being blamed.

It’s as his heart feels like it’s cracking open, hollow and empty but now fully broken, wondering if there is any worth to him besides the completion of his duties.  

There’s a rumble — like the growl of an ancient predator — and a crack as if the air itself has been torn apart and then another presence is there.  Someone he doesn’t recognize but that his soul wails for.

“Oh now, this just won’t do.  Aren’t you supposed to be a little happier to see me?” 

—

Magnus is teasing, or at least that’s what he tells himself as he tries to counter the instinctive bite that enters his tone. Being summoned to a place steeped in nephilim grace and magick is not Magnus’ idea of a good time.

In fact the only thing holding him back from bringing this entire building down is the fact that it’s clearly not a trap.  

Or at least not one yet.

It’s very obvious that the shadowhunter curled up on a dusty and gloomy window seat is also surprised.  

So surprised that he doesn’t even look up, just curling further into himself, shoulders shaking as he tries to restrain his pain.

Centuries of waiting and when Magnus has finally met his soulmate, they can’t even look up at him through their tears.

It’s with a pang of fury that Magnus realizes how young and overwhelmed his soulmate is. Whatever has summoned him to his soulmate’s side is nothing so simple that it can be soothed with mere words.

“There now, I'm here darling. Won’t you at least show me your face?” 

Stubborn, red-rimmed and tear-filled eyes meet his own, lips bloody and oh, the look in his soulmate’s eyes isn’t just despair, it’s also rage.

Magnus can work with that.

“Tell me what has upset you and I will destroy it.”

“You can’t destroy the world.” Is the first thing he ever hears from his soulmate and oh, but in that moment Magnus is entirely tempted to at least try.

“No, perhaps not.” Magnus admits, not yet, anyways “But I can at the very least, take you away.”

“You mean run away?” 

There is no judgement, but Magnus catches both the wistfulness and the derision at such thought. 

“Why not? Or is the Clave so magnanimous these days that they’d let a shadowhunter with a downworlder soulmate live peacefully?"

“No,” his soulmate — his shadowhunter soulmate — scoffs, “you’d be lucky if they outright killed me. I have no real power, I’m nothing more than a shackle they’d use for you to be their dog.”

“Oh sweetheart, you shouldn't have said that if you’d wanted to stay.” 

--

normally Alec would be transported to Magnus but Magnus has better wards than the institute so the soul magic can only do so much so Magnus was reverse summoned (which bully for him, he's about to raid Alec's room and take every single thing that his soulmate wants to from the institute and then he's going to be like 'oh this is my soulmate, he's such an angel... oh a missing nephilim? how interesting, would love to help but I'm on my honeymoon and will be for at least the next decade.

by the time Alec stops having a panic attack Magnus is going to be in 'i've had him for five seconds and I will take down Asmodeus and Lilith both if he isn't pleased with living on earth.

later on alec: fuck I have responsibilties, I've never fled from a single duty charged to me in my life

magnus: oh that explains so much of this tragedy but sweetheart the only job you have now is as my soulmate which is to make me happy

alec: i'm going to fail

magnus: you, darling. YOUR EXISTENCE makes me happy, BEING WITH YOU MAKES ME HAPPY YOURE ALREADY SUCCEEDING YOU KNOW WHAT IM GONNA TAKE DOWN THE CLAVE ANYWAYS. THIS WAS MEANT TO BE ROMANTIC NOT CHURN UP MORE TRAUMA

---

autocorrect (which is rarely correct just hopelessly automatic) changed it to 'anxiety predator instead of ancient' and it took like two rereads to realize what had happened because I do have an anxiety predator living in my brain lol

[witchlingcirce]

Yk as much as I find humour in the incest plot lines in the mortal instruments and enjoy and make the jokes. I honestly think the meaning is a little lost on people.

Preface: I AM NOT DEFENDING INCEST!!!! Incest is disgusting and gross and I do NOT support it, I just think Cassie added these for a reason.

The point of the two incest plot lines isn’t because of some weird fetish (btw Cassie writing fanfic between Ron and Ginny is a false rumour) it actually does serve a purpose in the story: and that’s to just show how sick and twisted Valentine is.

When Valentine reveals that Jace is Clary’s sister, he’s not just doing it for the shits and the giggles. It’s a specific manipulation tactic. It’s been a while since I’ve read City of Bones, but the idea behind it was just to put a wedge between the two. The purpose of this part in particular is to show Valentine's manipulation, he probably thought that if he said they were siblings then they would be likely to join him to protect each other (or at least Jace). It was also definitely to poke at Jace, whom he taught that emotions/love was a weakness. I understand why a lot of people don’t like this bit in the story since I don’t think it was handled particularly well (I think the meaning behind the reveal kind of gets lost with all the Clace bickering). Lol, however, I do think it gets better for the other plotline:

The Sebastian plotline is so misconstrued online it makes me want to die. When Clary shows people the visions of their loved ones, Sebastian sees Clary. Sebastian is taught growing up that any emotions are some kind of weakness. We even see that he naturally does not feel things. So when he sees Clary he thinks it’s romantic love and not sibling love. I feel like people saying things about this plotline completely misses the mark on it. It is incest but it is not reciprocated. Not only does Sebastian torture Clary’s loved ones but also kills them, he tried to rape her. Clary is the victim of abuse at Sebastian's hands. The point of this plot line is to emphasise Sebastian’s disconnect with his emotions, to emphasise how sick he is. If Izzy saw Alec when Clary showed the vision then Izzy would have known it was sibling love. Same with any of the blackthorns, or any other character with siblings.

Anyways, obviously the “your my sister” joke is really funny, I just think that sometimes people miss the point of these storyline’s (there obviously weird but after you read game of thrones you get it used to it I fear)

[skinomyteethh]

Hey!! i was wondering if you could write something on izzy maybe i don’t know if this will make sense but he gets embarrassed during sex? you know, trying to normalise things that happen during sex that arnt spoke about (in most) of the fics i read but it’s totally cool if your not comfortable with it!💞

₊˙♡﹗˚ ༘ first time nervousness

pairing: izzy stradlin x fem! reader.

summary: accidents happen!

contains/warnings: reader and izzy's first time. fingering. slight nipple play ig. little pussy slapping. oral (f. receiving). etc.

authors note: OKAY SO i tried my best to like execute the idea of izzy getting embarrassed and like mixing it with the fact that accidents also happen while having sex sometimes and that it doesn't have to kill the mood. I hope I did good! and uh hope y'all like it!

sexual thematics or even the simple thought of sexual relations were somewhat frightening to them, throughout their prolonged relationship they had only shared a few promiscuous touches and kisses, yet they desperately wanted to take a more intimate step in their relationship, feelings of nervousness seemed to block their ability to express their true desires.

[name] laid against the beige bedsheets, her eyes glancing down at izzy's pale hands as they trailed down up her torso carefully and gently as if she were fragile and delicate, made of glass. his right hand advanced up to her tits, cupping one of them, squeezing it rather roughly. a wince of pain parted her lips, izzy quickly removed his hand, leaning down to place soft kisses around her perked nipple. it wasn't his intent to hurt her, he just got carried away.

soft, almost desperate apologies escaped his light pink lips, it somewhat embarrassed him, he was supposed to make her feel pleasure not pain. he continued to apologize while she reassured him that everything was fine, accidents happen.

he slowly sat back up, slotting his face in between her thighs, he brought his left hand up, spreading her folds with his pointer and middle finger, dragging his tongue down her cunt. both the bridge and tip of his nose occasionally bumped into her clit whilst he began to eat her out causing her bruised and bitten red lips to part, pleading moans spilling from them.

shortly after he removed his head from the snug spot in-between her thighs, gently slapping her cunt, coating his fingers in her arousal. each and everyone of his moves were all experimental, he wanted to see what exactly felt pleasurable to her. her soft, warm fingers wrapped around his wrist, bringing his hand up towards he mouth.

[name] slowly opened her mouth, breathing heavily. she slowly began to lick and suck his long, pale fingers. he promptly slid his fingers out of her mouth, carefully trailing them down and inserting them into her, a mantra of moans spewing from her lips. he steadily pumped his fingers in a back and forth motion, speeding up his pace once in a while.

just as she was on the brink of her orgasm he pulled his fingers out, lovingly placing kisses on her lower stomach, inching closer to her inner thighs before sitting on his knees, lining up his painfully hard, pre-cum covered cock with her entrance. steadily, he slid in, causing her to tighten her grasp on the beige bedsheets, tugging on them as a loud, almost pornographic moan echoed through the bedroom.

Izzy maintained a rather calm, loving pace. he was worried about somehow hurting her again, he didn't want to hurt his precious jewel, at least not anymore. she grasped onto his forearm as his grip on her waist tightened, begging for him to go faster, harder. he skeptically obliged, fasten his pace.

the most desperate, adorable groans and whines escaped from his pink lips as he felt her warm, velvety, wet walls around him, her cunt seemed to lore him back in for more every-time he pulled out. he felt as if he was on cloud nine, he never expected these sinful acts to feel so euphoric. a keen, loud, and pleasure-filled cry whimper erupted from the back of [name]'s throat as she finally reached her awaited orgasm, it was a completely inexplicable feeling.

as he continued to thrust into her, a white, sticky ring of her orgasm appeared around the base of his cock, each time he pulled out, lines of her arousal mixed with her cum would connect them, causing lewd wet sounds to now accompanying their sounds of pleasure. with every thrust and every groan Izzy breached closer and closer to his orgasm, he soon haphazardly pulled out of her, pumping his length in-front of her face.

thick white spurts of cum ejaculated from his cock as a loud, low groan escaped his lips. he smiled, carelessly laying down next to her, catching his breath as he mumbled soft praises into her ear.

[glamslutz]

Hey, can you write an imagine where Y/N cheats on Izzy with Slash. When Izzy finds out, he is heartbroken, breaks up with her, and falls into a heavy alcohol addiction. Only then does Y/N realize how much she loved him and tries to win him back.

Including angst and fluff please, make it real long please ♡

Yess I gotchu! Sorry it’s late, I’ve been sick for the past week, but I finally finished it yay me! Hope you enjoy :) btw I have an alternate ending that I did for this, so if you want it let me know!

Damaged💔❤️‍🩹

Izzy Stradlin x reader

(featuring Slash | themes: betrayal, addiction, heartbreak, regret)

Warning ‼️ (angst, fluff, kinda long)

Y/N POV~

I never meant for it to happen. That sounds like bullshit, I know, but I didn’t. One minute, I was drunk, laughing too loud at one of Slash’s dumb stories, and the next, I was in his hotel room, tangled in sheets that didn’t smell like Izzy. They smelled like smoke and sweat and betrayal.

And now here I am, sitting on the floor of Izzy’s apartment, my back against the cold wall, knees pulled to my chest, wishing I could claw the last 48 hours out of existence. He hasn’t said a word in hours. Just paces. Back and forth. Back and forth. Like he’s trying to walk it off, like heartbreak is something you can sweat out.

“Izzy…” My voice is small, and I hate that. I used to speak and make his head turn. Now I sound like a ghost.

He finally stops and looks at me. Really looks. Eyes red, jaw tight, that wild black hair falling into his face like it always does. Except now he doesn’t brush it away. He just stares, like he’s seeing me for the first time. Or maybe like he wishes he wasn’t seeing me at all.

“You fucked Slash.”

There’s no question in his voice.

I open my mouth to speak, to explain, though I have no explanation worth a damn, but he cuts me off before I can try.

“You fucked him, Y/N.”

“I was drunk”

So was I! Every night for the last four years. You don’t see me climbing into someone else’s bed.” His voice cracks, and that’s worse than if he screamed. I’d rather he throw a lamp or smash a guitar than break like this.

“Izzy, I’m sorry…”

He turns away.

And just like that, I know it’s over.

I didn’t see him for weeks after that. The guys said he’d holed up somewhere in L.A., sleeping on a friend’s couch, bottle always in reach. Sometimes it was whiskey. Sometimes vodka. Once, it was cough syrup and Coke.

Slash didn’t say much, but he didn’t need to. The smirk he gave me backstage after a show said everything. I was just another notch. Another story he’d laugh about. Another mistake.

But Izzy? I ruined him.

I started hearing things. That he missed rehearsals. That he’d fallen asleep during a recording session. That Axl threatened to kick him out if he didn’t pull it together. Duff tried to help, but even he was at a loss. “He loved you,” he told me once, shaking his head. “He really fucking loved you.”

I knew. God, I knew.

The first time I saw him again, it was pouring. The rain was heavy and mean, like it was trying to drown the whole damn city. I waited outside The Viper Room, soaked and shaking, because someone said he might show up. And he did.

He didn’t recognize me at first.

Or maybe he just didn’t want to.

“Hey,” I said, breathless when I saw him, cigarette dangling from his lips, coat clinging to his shoulders, eyes bloodshot.

He blinked. “Y/N?”

“Izzy… I need to talk to you.”

He just stared, swaying slightly, the smell of alcohol clinging to him like a second skin. “Talk? Now you want to talk?”

“I miss you.”

He laughed. It was empty. Hollow. “You miss me? What part? The part before or after you fucked my bandmate?”

I flinched. “I made a mistake.”

“You made a choice.”

We stood there in silence, rain hitting the sidewalk like a metronome. I reached for him.

“Don’t.”

His voice wasn’t angry this time. Just tired. Broken.

“I’m not okay,” I said softly.

“Neither am I,” he whispered. “And that’s because of you.”

I didn’t give up.

Call me pathetic. Call me delusional. But I loved him. I love him. And I couldn’t let it end like that. I started writing him letters. Leaving voicemails. Waiting outside shows. I became the girl I used to roll my eyes at, clingy, desperate, hopeful.

Weeks passed.

Then one night, I heard a knock on my door.

I opened it and nearly collapsed.

“Izzy…”

He looked different. Thinner. Tired. But there was something in his eyes I hadn’t seen in a long time, clarity.

“I can’t sleep,” he said.

I stepped aside.

We didn’t talk much that night. We didn’t need to. He lit a cigarette and sat on my bed, fingers trembling just a little. I watched him. Studied him. Every line of his face. Every bruise I left on his heart.

“I still dream about you,” he said finally. “But in the dream, you always leave.”

“I’m here now.”

He looked at me. Long and hard. Then set the cigarette down and stood.

And when he kissed me, it wasn’t soft. It wasn’t gentle. It was fire and pain and everything we never said. His hands were rough, callused, trembling. He pinned me to the wall, his mouth hot on my neck, his voice a low growl in my ear.

You ruined me,” he said, breath hot as he lifted my shirt. “You fucking ruined me.”

“I know,” I whispered.

He kissed me again, harder this time, like he wanted to forget. Like he wanted to punish me. Maybe he did. Maybe I deserved it.

Clothes fell to the floor. His body pressed against mine, hot and heavy, every thrust a reminder of what we had, what we lost. He held my wrists above my head, lips on my collarbone, moaning my name like it hurt.

“I hate you,” he gasped against my mouth.

“No, you don’t.”

And I was right, because he came undone with my name on his lips, burying his face in my shoulder as we collapsed together.

Fast forward ~

It had been almost a year since the night izzy came over.

Twelve months of silence, of blocked numbers, of showing up to the studio just to hear he’d left five minutes earlier. I had written letters. Sent messages he never opened. I even showed up at his old apartment once. Slash answered the door.

“You’re the last person he wants to see,” he said coldly, before slamming it in my face.

Izzy had fallen deep into it, alcohol, bar fights, late nights with women whose names he didn’t bother to learn. I heard the stories. Everyone did. He was burning out and didn’t care who watched.

But I still loved him. That never changed. Even as guilt gnawed away at me like rot under the skin.

And then one night, I found him.

Passed out in a back booth at some shitty dive off Sunset. Guitar case on the table, empty bottle in front of him. He looked like a ghost, pale, thinner, eyes sunken like he hadn’t slept in weeks.

“Izzy,” I said, crouching beside him. My hand touched his shoulder. He flinched hard.

His eyes opened, bloodshot and slow to focus. “Why the hell are you here?”

“I needed to see you. I’m worried.”

He sat up, barely. “A little late for worry, sweetheart.”

“I know I hurt you,” I whispered. “But I love you. I never stopped.”

He looked at me, really looked, and I could see it all behind his eyes. The pain. The love. The memories.

“I believe that,” he said finally, voice hoarse. “And it doesn’t matter.”

My throat tightened. “Izzy…”

“You broke something in me. And no matter how much I want to pretend I can forgive you, I can’t.” He reached for his bottle, found it empty, and dropped it with a thud. “I hope you figure your shit out someday. But you and me? We’re done.”

And that was it.

He stood and walked away, guitar slung over his shoulder like a war wound. I didn’t chase him.

Because maybe this was how it was supposed to end.

[bookishjules]

any thoughts on how Simon and Isabelle will be around their in laws, I know we got to see a bit of it in the later books but would love to hear your thoughts

anon i will take any chance to talk about rebecca lewis <33 yes, i know there are more inlaws in question, and i will get to them, but i have been dying to talk about becky hehe plus there really is so much more to explore on the lewis side--naturally, since neither elaine nor rebecca have interacted with izzy in canon (insane btw).

sidenote: i kinda love how izzy only ever grew up with brothers, but gained a sister through simon (or two really, since we really must count clary, but you know, we're talking technicalities here), and that for simon, it's the opposite.

anyway, speaking of sisters hehe i genuinely think izzy and rebecca would get along well. i think iz would be a good source of.. fun i guess? for becky. like a good reminder to let loose. and i think becky would be a good resource for izzy, someone with a bit more age and wisdom that she can go to, someone who isn't maryse. and it's not like becky would be the only one offering advice. i think izzy would remind her to put herself first sometimes, to chase what she wants and to be kinda.. undeniable i guess. and i think they would laugh together and i think they would go shopping together, despite their very different fashion senses, and i think becky would maybe make some clothes for izzy and i think they would bond over the matching simon-shaped swell in their hearts.

i think becky is a common presence at the sizzy household. movie nights or game nights, or becky-cooked dinners (she might also try train some better cooking instincts into izzy while she's at it hehe), at least for a while until life things happen etc. i also think, and i know this is thinking a decent way further down the line, but i also think she'll be one of their go-to babysitters, since i don't think she'll get settled with her own family until she's in her 30s, and because i just know she'll want to be part of every second of that.

okay okay i think i need to stop talking about rebecca now or i will end up writing a novel..

i think their relationship with elaine is a lot more.. delicate. they don't see her nearly as often. because they can't be honest about the shadow world, for one, but also because i think she still has a little bit of.. not exactly loose canon, but something akin to that, in her. i think she wishes she got to see her son and daughter in law more, but i think there's this underlying anger for izzy any time they go to elaine's place, because even though it was years ago, izzy's first introduction to her personality was still through the lens of her condemning her son and kicking him out of the house at 16. and i also think izzy's seen how that reaction has affected simon, both in the direct aftermath, and in the years after he got his memories back.

i know levi is dead and wouldn't have any sort of relationship with izzy, but i do think simon would have taken her to levi's grave at some point to introduce them anyway. maybe around their wedding?

i really don't feel like there's much to say about the lightwoods that we haven't already seen, or that can't be easily extrapolated, but in spirit of fairness..

jace and simon are very much jace and simon. it's kinda hard to imagine their relationship changing much more than it already has. the comfortability and familiarity between them, the playful jabs, etc. i do think jace has probably begrudgingly gone to simon for a second (or third after clary, ig) opinion on some plans or strategies etc. he's having to make as an institute head. and i definitely think simon has tried to teach jace dnd, and had him over to play video games more than once.

i think simon and alec's relationship goes through more change than what we've been privy to. i think they have their bonding time doing target practice or over coffee after putting the kids to bed. they talk about politics and work and the sda. they also definitely talk about jace being an idiot lol

when it comes to maryse.. bro maryse is so hard for me. their relationship with her would be much closer than that they have with elaine, of course. and i think in maryse's effort to be more present with her family, she also makes a point to have a personal relationship with simon. they don't really have all that much in common, but simon has always seemed like something of a mom charmer to me. he's funny and smart and knows how to be polite. plus he really really cares about izzy. and i think it means a lot to maryse to see that. call it projection or mother's love or a little of both, but it's nice to have that reassurance that her daughter won't have to go through what she did.

[vodka0kcal]

Dear, Y/N…

Izzy Stradlin X Reader

warnings: *fluffy* *sad* *mention drugs*

“ Dear Y/N

i dont know why im writing, but i think you deserve an apology. or whatever this should be, i dont know. I don’t know how to start this, or if you’ll even read it. Maybe you’ll tear it up, maybe you won’t care, and maybe you shouldn’t. I wouldn’t blame you.

ive been losing myself lately, ive been losing myself for a really long time.

i thought getting sober would solve all of my problems, but i feel more empty than ever.

i miss you.

and i dont think its my right to do so. i was the one who left anyways

i dont know why i did that, but sometimes i wish i hadnt done it

sometimes i just wake up looking for you on the side of my bed, but its empty and the spot is cold, i hear your laugh everytime i brush my teeth, and if i squeeze my eyes really hard i can almost see you

i miss your fingers in my hair, the way you smiled so big, the way you made me feel like a shy schoolboy all over again, its stupid

i left my things at your house but honestly i dont care, i want you to keep them, to remind yourself of my existence in that house, you probably hate me anyways

and i dont blame you

i should have called you back, i should have said something, but i was so confused, so lost, so crazy, i thought it was the better to do, for you

I know I left without a word. I know I should have called, or at least tried to explain, but I didn’t have the words then. I barely have them now. It wasn’t you—I need you to know that. It was me, and everything in my head, and everything I’d let my life become. I had to get out before it swallowed me whole.

I’ve been sober for a while now. It’s strange, like I’m walking through a world I don’t recognize. I thought getting clean would fix everything, that maybe I’d feel like myself again. But most days, I don’t feel like anything at all. Just this hollowed-out version of whoever I used to be. And in all that emptiness, you’re still there. The thought of you, the weight of you, the way I left you behind.

im in lafayette, i was living with my mom when i left, i have my own house now, and honestly, im where i should be

I don’t expect forgiveness. I don’t expect anything, really. I just wanted you to know that I do think about you. That I did love you, even if I was too far gone to show it right. And that I’m sorry. For everything.

Take care of yourself, Y/N. You always deserved better than me.

with love,

- Izzy. “

[tobbesdiscordkitten]

I always see people say things like "oh i wish i was erin everly/shes so lucky to date axl rose" etc and after falling down in a rabbit hole, i found an article about the Erin lawsuit and one quote hit me really hard

"Despite pleas from friends and her mother to leave Rose, Everly refused. “I always believed things would get better,” she says. “And I felt sorry for him. I thought I could make [his early childhood suffering] all better.”".

People have said that she isn't innocent victim (which makes sense since yes she also didnt have the best upbringing) but still my heart breaks for her. In the article David Arquette who was in a relationship with her after Axl, says that she flinched a lot and he had to constantly reassure Erin that he wouldnt hit her. I sometimes try to imagine what their relationship would be if he seeked professional help early in his life. At some point i was certain that he loved Stephanie more, but i guess at the time he was dating her, he was just at a better state of mind and knew better how to express his love.

Totally. It would’ve been interesting to know how their relationship would’ve turned out had Axl gotten therapy sooner. I can speculate that he may not have been as aggressive or had as many frequent outbursts as before.

Some fans said that if Axl didn’t leave Erin for Stephanie then his cycle of abuse would’ve continued. But since he was with Stephanie he managed to break that cycle, ponder what went wrong in his relationship with Erin, and tried to be better, not only for himself, but for the people around him, including his new partner. This kinda debunks the early therapy part because, if Axl received therapy, but continued his cycle of abuse, then it’s clear that he needed to leave Erin for his own mental sake.

I’m not trying to demonize Erin here. Believe me, I like her a lot more than Stephanie, but she wasn’t right for Axl either. Sources mention how Erin was the aggressor who would push Axl’s buttons, or provoke him in a way, that caused him to lash out/defend himself from her. Instead of indulging in a screaming match with each other, they both should’ve communicated with one another and try to see the other’s perspective on what not to do and how to make things better between them. What’s sad is both Erin and Axl didn’t get to love each other properly because of the damage in their lives as Axl once noted:

I think One is one of the greatest songs that have ever been written. I put the song on and just broke down crying. It was such a release. It was really good for me. I was really upset that my ex-wife and I never had a chance because of the damage in our lives. We didn't have a chance and I hadn't fully accepted that. The song helped me see it. I wanted to write Bono a letter just saying, "Your record's done a lot for me."

The song One from U2’s album Achtung Baby was released in November of 1991, the same year Axl started dating Stephanie Seymour. He was still mourning the loss of Erin when he was with Stephanie and he was trying to heal from other things like his childhood past that came back to haunt him. Axl did view Stephanie differently because, for him, she was the right person to be around, and he thought she was perfect. She supported him when he talked about his childhood trauma in a Rolling Stones magazine article and when Izzy left the band.

I understand Erin and Axl were a cute couple, and I know there are lots of fans who still wish they were together. But the truth of the matter is…those two weren’t meant to be together for the long-term. As for Axl and Stephanie, it was the wrong place and the wrong time for them.

From my experience, the people who wish they were Erin are the ones who don’t know much about that relationship lol. I don’t blame them for saying that either tho, sometimes I think I could’ve helped Axl, but at the same time…it might’ve been impossible, and I don’t think I could’ve lasted as long as Erin did. Reality sucks…

I know Axl deserved better. He truly did 🥺 and it breaks my heart knowing he hasn’t found the love of his life yet. I’m still manifesting that he’ll find the right woman someday, but only if he wants it to happen.

[lumenizampel]

For the first time asks: the first time Mir left Taash speechless? <3

For "first times" romance ask prompt!

“You taste different.”

“Hm?” 

Fresh from a kiss, far from their first or second one. There’s a smudge of Mir’s black lipstick on Taash’s lower lip that they’re licking tentatively like crumbs at the edge of their mouth.

“Your lips taste funny.” Taash licks their lips again, as if to make sure. “I don’t like it.”

“This dye is from walnut bark, like eyeliner,” Mir supplements. They’ve been experimenting with making their vitaar and makeup, much like every other person exploring their looks in a forest. “My old one’s from dark indigo flowers around Arlathan.”

“Ugh. I hate it.” The aftertaste is so obvious in the crinking of Taash’s eyes as they try to get it out of their mouth. “It smells weird too!”

All Mir can do is laugh. “Is it that terrible?” 

“The old one looks good on you already.” It’s funny to watch Taash flinch everytime they lick their lips while looking at Mir and remember what’s on there, but the black smudges do slowly fade. There is a better way to clean off makeup, but this is more fun to watch. “I had no complaints on the last one. Why change it?” 

“You eat with your eyes too.” An honest answer. Sure, identity is nice, but there’s a joy in looking good for someone. “You have very particular tastes.”

“I–” Taash attempts to sputter out a response before giving up, looking away in… embarrassment?

There isn’t much else to hide when they’re this close and they’re sure Taash can smell sweat more than walnut bark at this distance. They aren't taking that as an insult, but they have surprisingly nothing to say to that. Did Mir say something wrong?

Apparently not, because the taste didn’t really matter in the end as Taash goes in again to sample – as if Mir cared or minded the slight brimstone in their breath or their own lipstick between their teeth.

Different, enough to stop and think and enjoy, but good tastes.

[cheesus-doodles]

It's funny lowkey for me whenever you write about the reader being unable to resist the tears and puppy eyes because since I'm the third oldest out of ten (oldest daughter, just number 3 in the line up) I've become immune to puppy eyes and if my own siblings can't work that on me I doubt that the Founders could. So I was wondering how you think said Founders would be like if Darling was immune to the puppy eyes, especially if said Darling is like me and has a bunch of younger siblings >:3c

Immune to puppy eyes+multiple younger siblings anon here, feel free to ignore that though if it isn't a prompt you want to do! No pressure at all!

aksjdnaskjdnas finally getting round to answering some of the older asks ;-; sorry it takes so long y'all - just disappointed in myself today cause I hesitated to buy Izzy's standee and in that moment he sold out ;-;

‎

Masterlist

Upon reflection, the Toman founders really are like younger siblings huh. Maybe not so much Draken, Mitsuya or Pah, but definitely your needy trio of Mikey, Baji and Kazutora who would be as good as clingy younger brothers with separation anxiety. Or maybe more so like puppies, but same difference in the end.

I think it would only take just the first visit to your house and a glance at all your younger siblings clamouring for you to help them with something for the realisation to set in with the Toman boys that no amount of tears or puppy eyes would work on you. No doubt Mikey and Kazutora would still try, but the boys would be quick to turn to other means to wring out what they want from you.

Draken and Mitsuya find out quickly that annoying you into giving in and doing what they want works pretty well - after all, Misty himself has two younger sisters and he knows what buttons they usually push to get him to do things for them. Though they personally don't want to whine and plead (they are still delinquents with some measure of pride after all), they know who will, and young kids are easily bribed for their help. Sets your younger siblings on you with a small bribe of sweets and with their help, would ultimately manage to force you into doing whatever the two Toman boys wanted just to get the hassling and pestering to stop. Sometimes even pretend to step in to help you stop the non-stop disturbance so that you can get your homework done, no doubt putting them in your good books. High fives all around, no doubt Draken and Mitsuya are the more popular pair around your place.

Mikey and Kazutora, on the other hand, have no such dignity left when it comes to you. The two of them would definitely still try their tears and puppy eye combo a few more times just to be sure it doesn't work before they switch tactics. Would do literally anything to get your attention and affection on them, even if it means blackmailing you - stealing your homework and holding it hostage, refusing to leave the bathroom whenever you need it unless you pinky swear to spend time with them afterwards, dragging you out of class and straight up sitting on you and not moving. Tears and puppy eyes were the easier option if they were honest, but whatever works ain't stupid. Your siblings couldn't get to you when you are in school, but they can, and these baby boys absolutely will, threatening to kick up a fuss and disrupt every class if you don't let them lay on your lap and cuddle. Tried to give you some of their favourite snacks as bribery but obviously didn't work cause they were all half-eaten, so back to disruption they went.

And then there's Baji and Pah - the two who have individually consulted outside persons and have come to the same conclusion. Baji would have asked his mum on advice on how to steal your attention (she thinks he's trying to get a girlfriend), while Pah will ask Peh, and the two airheads will end up bribing and buying your time and attention. Baji would take advantage of the community cats that he cares for and invite you along to feed and play with them whenever he could - none of the other Toman boys can get as close to them as he could, and he knows all the good spots too. The community cats let you pet and rub them since you were with Baji, and this baby boy would use the opportunity to get your attention and affection. Pah is the best out of the six at arcade games, so buying your time with games and prizes was no brainer (or at least that was what Peh told him) - you did enjoy winning a ton while with him, and he got to hang out with you with no complains, so its a win-win.

End of the day, it just makes life more difficult for you if you were immune to their crying and whining, so my recommendation would be to play along when its convenient and encourage the behaviour rather than let the boys come up with their own idea of how to get your attention: the more things doesn't work out, the more desperate the boys become. Wouldn't be long before one of the more desperate ones get the idea that if they hurt themselves, you would be sure to pay attention and fuss. Or worse, if they took out the number of people who wanted your attention, then you'll have to give time of day to them - so maybe just give them the pats and forehead kisses they want and they'll be happy to be nothing more than your clingy baby siblings.

[maximwtf]

Izzy Hands x reader fanfic where the reader courts him by sending anonymous love letters.

Izzy Hands x Reader

words: 2760

google docs pages: 4,5

warnings: Oddly enough for something I’ve written, none! Is this lowkey corny though? Yes, maybe that needs a warning of its own. 

opening: Your desperate earlier attempts at courting the first mate of Blackbeard’s had gone unnoticed, so you resort to writing love letters. Maybe he’d realise if it was laid flat in front of his eyes. 

AN// Reader can be any gender! It’s been a good while since I’ve written anything fluff-like, so apologies if that affected the quality of this :”D! Requests are still open <3! (please someone request something sword-fight related, or I’ll have to think of something myself)

 “Not worth your time”

How many attempts would it take for him to realise what you were trying to say? How did he not notice even when you thought you couldn’t get any more obvious? Or was he just on purpose ignoring you? Were thoughts that had been on your mind for a long time now.

Izzy Hands, the first mate of Blackbeard's, was either too focused on his work and just didn’t realise or was ignoring your confessions on purpose. Of which you hoped wasn't the latter. For the past few weeks you had tried almost everything you could have thought of, not counting in just telling him how you felt. The only reason why that card hadn’t been used yet was because you didn’t know if he cared for you in the same way. You wouldn’t be able to bear the heartbreak of confessing to him and being rejected would cause. Not to even mention having to be on the same ship with him after, you’d rather take a jolly boat and leave at that point. So you had resorted to hinting your feelings for him through actions, which had proven to be unsuccessful. 

As long as you’d known the man, he had never been too good at expressing his feelings. If he was upset, he might have said something about it to you and then disappear for a moment to resolve whatever was going on in his mind. Never had you seen him cry, but you expected he was just the kind of person to cry whenever he was alone. But even when he was happy, he’d show it through very small actions, sometimes not even his expression changing. You weren’t even sure if the man had ever been in love. Maybe he just didn’t know how to express that either? Or perhaps that was you hoping the earlier attempts of getting him to realise how you felt hadn’t been for nothing. 

Either way, it was clear you’d chosen a man who was harder to read than a map drawn by a toddler. He hadn’t and seemingly wasn’t going to notice you flirting with him, but maybe something else would work. Flirting had never been your strong suit anyway, you’d always been much more skilled with written down words. It was easier to think of what to say and carefully choose the right words, which you couldn’t do while spending time with the first mate. And perhaps you could blame yourself even for the bad success, knowing your flirting and how it usually played out. So your plan was clear. To start writing anonymous love letters to him, and slowly make it as obvious as possible. 

To be quite honest, you weren’t so sure if the man even knew how to read. Though, surely for one to become a first mate they had to know how to read, right? Or maybe that was just your last hope speaking. You’d seen first mates get chosen and there wasn’t a job application that came first. The person who was thought out to be the most experienced with piracy was chosen ultimately over the skill of literacy. Though, Stede appreciated the skill understandably more than the seadogs you’d sailed with for most of the time. 

Literacy had been the reason why you and Lucius started talking as well. You’d started to take turns writing notes for Stede after you had gained his trust. Due to this new formed relationship with the man, you would sometimes talk to him about Izzy. From what you collected, Lucius wasn’t the biggest fan of him, understandably. But Lucius hadn’t been against you trying to court the man either, he’d even encouraged you to write the letters. Perhaps he was hoping you’d succeed and manage to change Izzy for the better somehow. But that was thinking too far ahead. 

Firstly you had to figure out what to write in the first letter. It ended up not being anything too obvious, but you made sure to put an emphasis on the parts where you mentioned admiring his seamanship skills. Not leaving a signature or anything that could retrace the letter back to you, you folded it nicely and sneaked it to his quarters by sliding it under his door. It was only at that point that you truly realised how silly this was for an adult to do. Though, you forgave yourself for the sake of this being the last trick you had up your sleeve. 

The evening passed quickly, night cooling down the air and bringing a slight fog with it to hug the vessel sailing across the water gently. You’d taken the lookout shift for tonight, knowing you wouldn't have been able to sleep. It also gave you time to write the second letter, knowing there was almost never any activity on the sea in a weather like this. It was going to be a calm night.

You sat down in the crowsnest, leaning over slightly as your pencil danced on the small piece of paper. The contents of the letter may have been more flirty than intended because of your sleep deprived mind, but you scrapped none of it. Letting your thoughts run as they pleased, the second letter was finished with a small heart as a signature at the bottom. You folded it nicely like the first letter, using a drop of wax from the candle you had up in the crowsnest to seal the paper. 

The sky began to change colour when the sun decided to make its return. You climbed down, back on the main deck. You’d walk by Izzy’s door before going to sleep and slip the letter under his door like before. Most of the crew was still asleep, it only being the very early hours of the morning. Pure luck for you, since no one would notice you sneaking around like this. 

Izzy was one to wake up rather early, so you didn’t dare to make any noise. At times it felt like you were holding your breath just in case that would alert him, though thinking about it after, it sounded silly. But nevertheless, you’d gotten the letter delivered and made an escape for it. All the way to one of the free hammocks where you got comfy and fell asleep rather quickly. 

After that you took a break from writing the letters. Not a long one, but you had to think the third letter through more thoroughly. You’d sat down with Lucius, and chatted with him about it. As far as Izzy knew, the two of you were the only ones who could write and practised it actively. So the first mate didn’t have many options on who could have been writing the letters. “Lucius, I need to ask something from you.” You started, knowing he might just do this for you. The ‘mhm?’ he gave was all you needed as a sign to explain further. “Give the third letter to him.” You said quickly, biting your inner lip. The plan was to ask Lucius to give the letter, and when Izzy would eventually realise it wasn’t written by Lucius, he wouldn’t have many options left. Lucius stared at you for a moment before a faint smirk formed on his face. “Alright.” He said, raising his eyebrows in a knowing manner. It seemed he didn’t need a further explanation, the plan being clear to him.

After the conversation, you got to writing. This letter was more bold, more straight forward. You allowed your handwriting to differ more clearly from Lucius’, making it more obvious it wasn’t from the other man. Half way through writing, you leaned back on the chair. Was this even going to work? You had continued talking to Izzy after the first two, but he didn’t seem like he was even trying to figure out who was sending the letters. Or maybe you’d just missed his eyes wandering across the deck when he thought no one was looking, desperate to find who’d written words like that of him. Who in the crew would ever think of such things of someone like him?

You shook your head, resuming back to the letter. Writing the third one took the longest, only because it had all your thoughts in it. A proper confession with an ‘I love you’ at the end. You thought of signing this one, but then decided against it. He was witty enough to figure out it was you based on the letter, and if he felt the same he’d come looking for you. Hopefully.

That same evening you delivered the letter to Lucius, almost scared to let go of it. With a swift wink Lucius took it, and promised to give it to the first mate just before the crew usually went to rest. That way you’d be up in the crowsnest, the look-out shift taken by you yet again, and you could get some fresh air before having to face the first mate. 

Time passed, the tension within your body building up. With stiff steps you got up to the crowsnest and slid against the mast to sit down. A deep breath. Lucius would have given Izzy the letter around this time. There was no turning back now, but there was also still that part of you that didn’t even want to. You’d waited for long enough, and this was like ripping off a bandaid, only you didn’t know what the damage under would be. If any. 

Lucius had found Izzy, handing the letter to the man with that same amused grin on his face which he had tried to hide. “What is this?” Izzy asked, furrowing his brows slightly as he accepted the piece of paper. “Have you-?” He was about to add, but Lucius was already turning away to leave. “That is for you to figure out.” He said, before leaving Izzy alone with his thoughts and the letter. His eyes stared blankly at the folded paper, carefully opening it for reading. 

The first mate’s eyes scanned through the words, his free hand going slightly over his mouth. This letter had far more passion in it than the other two mysterious letters he’d received. But yet it was written tenderly with care, still anonymous. Lucius had been such an asshole about revealing who it was. Of course he had thought it must have been Lucius playing with him from the start, but after the second letter it had gotten far too advanced to be just a crude joke anymore, he hoped. But there weren’t many literate men on the ship.

Izzy took the time to find Stede’s diary in his hands, scrolling through it just enough to be able to compare the two handwritings together. He knew you and Lucus took turns writing notes for Stede, and to his luck he was able to match the styles. Lucius’ handwriting looked different from the one used in the letter, but the other style in the diary matched the one in the letter’s almost perfectly. It was you, had been this whole time.

Izzy slammed the book shut, folding the letter into his pocket and making his way to the main deck where he knew you were. Just today he’d told you to skip and leave the shift for him, but you'd strongly insisted against it, saying you didn’t feel tired due to the full moon. He’d wanted to ask what you were talking about, the time of the moon being full still at minimum a week away, but you had left before he was able to. But now he knew why you’d left so abruptly. 

Izzy appeared on the main deck, gaze searching for you. The deck itself was empty, it wasn’t yet so dark that he couldn’t see as much. The sky was clear of clouds, no fog in sight. No lookout in this weather would be on deck, you must have been in the crowsnest. His gaze travelled up, seeing the faint light of a candle up in the mast. “Aye!” He called out, voice keyed up. He hadn’t even thought of what to say, just wanting to know why you thought such things of him, still in the belief it must have been a bad joke being played on him. 

Izzy’s voice made your heart skip a beat, making you tense. He’d figured it out, of course he had. You swallowed, finding your mouth dry and jaw tense. “Yeah?” You called back, frozen in place. It didn’t take long for the man to reply. “Come on down here!” Another hard swallow. You should have just jumped over the gunwale earlier or left on a jolly boat, this was terrifying. “In a moment!” Your voice wavered as you got up and started climbing down, through the lubber’s hole, towards the main deck. 

It felt like the wooden flooring was lava as you stepped on it, finding Izzy standing there. The faint light of a singular lantern giving some light in the otherwise dark environment. You felt like running away as Izzy pulled the latest letter from his pocket. “Did you..write these?” He asked, breaking the silence which had been creeping its way between the two of you. You hadn’t even realised the force you’d been biting your inner lip at, before now. “I- Yes.” Your voice betrayed you yet again, the words coming out shaky. Almost like you thought you were in trouble? “So Lucius is off the hook.” Izzy said, the words not making you feel any better. “So I’m still- on the hook?” You asked, a light joke in an attempt to make the nervous sweat back down. “You could say so.” He put the letter back into his pocket. “Surely you don’t fucking think of me in that way?” The first mate added, the tone of his voice giving you the impression of him thinking you were tricking him. 

You wanted to reach out to him, to somehow tell him that you were speaking the truth, but your mouth was still dry. All words that were so beautifully written on the paper, now somehow gone, disappeared into thin air. Or in this case thick air, you felt like you couldn’t bloody breathe. “Izzy, I meant every word.” You said, voice almost so silent you feared it might have gotten lost in the light wind. Though, in truth there only being a cat’s paw on the water. Izzy’s eyes snapped on you, almost dropping the cigarette he’d been about to light. “You-” He started, but you wanted not to hear the things the man thought of himself. “Yes, I love you, you moron.” You allowed yourself to say, taking an awkward step closer to him. “Dear, I’m not worth your time…” He started yet again, which you wanted so desperately to end. He did not see the things you saw in him. “Shut up, please.” You took the cigarette from his hand, daring to look into his eyes, your gaze searching for his answer. Did he feel the same? 

Izzy must have seen the question marks in your eyes, as his expression softened to one of slight worry. “Please, don’t do this to me.” He said, his hand rising but not quite sure what he should do. “Say it.” You pleaded, eyes glued on his. “I do, more than I should. I love you” You bit back a relieved smile, gently placing your free hand on his collar. He didn’t pull away, rather leaned in which you took as a yes to kissing  him. It didn’t last long, the tension of it making you pull away slowly, but not far. His face left with a mix of emotions, of which most he didn’t know how to express. You smiled, turning to light the cigarette with the flame of the lantern. You took a quick drag from it before placing it near the man’s lips. He raised his hand enough to take a hold of the cigarette, mouth left softly agape. “I love you-” He said, voice lost, like he had to repeat the phrase just to make it sound real to himself. You wanted to reply, but a wave hit the bow of the ship. You wouldn't have otherwise reacted, but the moment had caught you off guard, just like the wave. It swayed the ship softly, pushing you against him. There was no real danger of tumbling over, but the first mate still placed his free hand swiftly behind your back, looking rather awkward after. “I know.” You smiled, now knowing saying that was true. Finally you knew he cared for you too, knew that he’d realised how you felt.

AN// It's yet again 4am when I proof read this, so if there are any mistakes I apologise for that!

[three--rings]

God that David Jenkins interview collection post I just reblogged...

I hadn't read the Paste interview and my god David I have to just...marvel at some of this.

In particular:

"But I think him becoming a father figure to Ed in the last episode didn't really dawn on us until we were breaking the last episode. Asking what would this man say to Ed at the end because they've been together through everything? He went from a troubled and downtrodden employee to a jilted lover to a discarded employee, to someone that is just trying to find his footing again—no pun intended—to actually becoming this guy's parental figure on some level. And he's one person who kind of raised Ed right, because Blackbeard usually kills his parental figures. So, it felt right and it felt like that's how the mentor dies. The mentor in a story usually dies in the second act and then our hero has to go on and try to do it without them. It felt like the right journey for Izzy and a gratifying one for Con."

Like, okay we, the writers, hadn't considered him a father figure or mentor at all until the very last episode where we killed him. But we came up with it as we were writing it.

And then we didn't put anything about it into the episode at all, and then we talk about it in interviews about how obvious it is as a mentor relationship and like...I'm sorry. Yeah it was surprising to all of us as well, because you may have suddenly thought of it like that when you were DESPERATELY trying to justify this death to yourself as NECESSARY because you'd decided it WAS, but you also

DIDN'T PUT ANY OF THAT ON THE SCREEN.

So no, the audience is not on the same page, cause we weren't a part of those discussions you had. That only came up in the last episode. You can't in like 4 minutes of a 25 minute episode, the very last episode of 18, introduce a character dynamic when one of the characters is dying.

That's not how writing for TV works! Does he really think he put the Izzy is a father figure stuff on screen somehow in that death scene? Cause like, sure Izzy is showing AFFECTION for Ed in that scene, but there's nothing there that is PARENTAL. And family, which Ed says, doesn't mean that either. The ship is family. Queer family is different. IDK IDK.

And like it reminds me of something else he said in another interview, about Jim and Oluwande and how "in the writer's room we always thought of them as a friend relationship that got romantic" and that's why they got other partners. But like, okay, if your intent was they were more friends than romantic (which, I'm not sure that's what you mean, but if you're using it to say that's why they are now into other people, okay?) then did you convey that to THE ACTORS? Because it feels like the actors were definitely playing ROMANCE in S1.

That's what ended up on the screen. Two friends falling in love, sure, but actually falling in love and not just two friends who sleep together, as S2 tries to imply.

IDK but I really want to be like, dude sometimes it's not about writer intent. Sometimes it's about what ends up on the screen and you need to step back and look at what your audience is seeing. Because your actors are doing a lot of things that may take things to different places.

[alexanderlightweight]

Wednesday nights are my new/old/new again favourite part of the week. I'm solo parenting bedtime with 2 little ones and a doggy on Wednesdays which can be stressful when one is an infant who cries when tired (who would have thought 🤔) and the other is my 5yo autistic angel who manages her displeasure at a baby crying by being louder to down it out.

All this to say when the dust settles I treat myself to a cup of tea and binge read anything/everything you post during writing Wednesdays. So thank you for being you and sharing your gift. It's a sweet treat to frayed nerves and a sign that the week is almost over.

With that in mind I selfishly ask for a continuation of either guide/sentinel verse or some other where they're essentially power boosting eachother against others who would be happier to have them weaker (for control reasons or to get rid of them).NSFW please (should you be so inspired) but will happily take anything.

PS I hope you're getting some R&R yourself or at least snuggles with your pets 🐶🐈‍⬛.

that sounds... that sounds like you need a whole pot of tea and i'm very glad that my fics help you recenter and also remind you the week is near its end! I hope this wednesday was nice to you!

indeed! so shocking that a tiny human who doesn't understand anything cries at the surprise of exhaustion they can't comprehend! why I certainly don't still cry when i'm over tired even now that I understand it (jk I totally cry but I only wail sometimes). seriously, I love how kids are like 'oh hey. I can problem solves this by escalating' and you're just sitting there going '... someone please stop this ride. I would like to be off and go sit in the quiet, dark corner of peace I know exists somewhere'. not that kids aren't amazing, but well. they come with quite a few features that are understandable but no-less exhausting for all that they're being reasonable considering they're brand new humans.

as tempted as I was i didn't manage to get this written on Wednesday (because the brain fog decided I was done) but I hope you still enjoyed the other prompts filled that night when you took your break and I hope you enjoy this because I may have had too much fun with it

that being said, if this ends up not sounding like (don't read if I accidentally added something not your thing) something youd enjoy or if you read and it ends up not being your thing, just let me know.

uhm so I need to be clear this is 3DNE and it's in gladiolus first part here, so it's both bloody and kinky. seeing as Magnus senses Alec and goes Enemies to Married in about five minutes.

uh..., slaughter, fucking on a battlefield and using blood as lube (corpse blood so corpse desecration I guess). kinky sex and Magnus has dick piercings. battlefield bonding and some blasphemy. a little outside pov for some added despair. not for malec, malec are having a blast. probably some more but i'm bad at tagging without ao3's helpful database so be advised, here be dead doves.

also I did have some lovely cuddles with Nightshade (tho they are never enough according to him)

<3 lumine

gladiolus

Izzy isn’t sure what’s happened.

All she knows is that Alec is at the center of something powerful, red mist gathering in, obscuring her vision as she tries to find him.. Her hermano is in the eye of a storm that’s taken down the entire field of combatants. 

The shockwaves have stopped and while the ground still feels like it’s trembling with aftershocks, Izzy can’t be sure it’s the earth or her.  However, she’s finally conscious again and that means she can fight.  She pushes up from her side up to her knees, leaning on her elbows as she tries to steady herself and gather the will to get up.

She’s lucky that whatever happened took out both sides, giving her time to gather herself and then gets a look at what’s actually happening.

The warlock — the High Warlock and the reason her parents are in a different location rather than here —  is still in front of Alec, even if they're both standing now.  Izzy isn’t even sure if Alec’s standing or if he’s being held up, she can’t tell from this angle or from how blood drips down into her vision.  His wings are out, but they’re not glinting adamas and they’re not being ripped away from him either.

Finally she sees Alec fully as he steps away from the warlock and looks towards her, even across the distance, she feels like their gazes meet.

Run.

The stern command against her mind is silent to her ears, but not her senses. Izzy’s never felt a louder truth or a more desperate and deadly emotion from her hermano.

It’s dangerous.

He’s dangerous and it’s with fear that Izzy realizes the warlock must be a guide and if he’s a guide and Alec’s giving her a warning then...

Izzy closes her eyes and grits her teeth, forcing herself up even though she’s struggling along with every other shadowhunter on the battlefield. 

On a field of slaughter, more like.

Unlike the other shadowhunters who are picking their blades back up and orienting themselves, Izzy runs. One foot after the other, first a staggering limp before her gait steadies as her training overcomes the pain and shock.  Alec didn’t give empathic orders like that unless lives were in danger... but Izzy is the only one he’s bothered to warn.

Tears stream down Izzy’s face as the screams start.  

These are people she knows. 

Some of them are people she cares about and while she doesn’t like all of them, she’s been fighting on a battlefield with them for what feels like a lifetime. 

Even as others join her in fleeing, Izzy knows it won’t be of any  use.  

She’ll survive for one reason and one reason alone, because the bonds of kin can temper Alec’s reason enough to spare her.  There’s no such grace for anyone else on the field. Especially since most of them are hunter’s Alec only tolerated because they were all equal fodder once on the field and each body counted.

Alec’s never let on just how deep his soul ache is.  If the echoes of his un-shielded mind feel like a canyon or a puddle, or how deeply he yearns for a guide, if at all. 

Izzy feels like a fool.

Of course Alec would want a guide.  

Who else will give him the unconditional love he deserves and has been denied his whole life.  Their parents threw him at the Clave the moment he emerged and the Clave have him throwing him at demons and then on battlefields ever since.

Alec has no true reason to stay loyal to their people, not even the Pride of Idris that he was a part of.  Alec turned his nose up at too many guides, snubbed too many families and bruised too many personal feelings, despite the blatant lack of compatibility between him and well, anyone.

He’s been alone for years, not just by choice but because he’s never matched.

Which is exactly why he’s slaughtering them.

All of them.

Tiers and rows and teams of nephilim, killed by one of their own.  Worse, a sentinel, the steadfast protectors of their people.  The very reason Alec leads troops despite being unbonded is because of his natural instinct as a sentinel to protect them and his territory. 

Yet now he destroys what he once shielded with a near manic glee. Why wouldn’t he, when it’s to prove his devotion to his guide, Alec’s never been one to half-ass anything.

Izzy can feel Alec's satisfaction grow with each death.  It lingers heavy in the air as if Alec’s warlock guide is magnifying it. Projecting it out to further torture the nephilim dying in droves and flaunt his own victory in claiming a sentinel even the Clave has given up on.

Most of them are trying to fight back but some know better and are running.  Alec’s deadly enough on his own, but now in defense of his guide?  There’s no hope for any of them.

Izzy stumbles, nearly tripping as the hunter in front of her drops, an arrow through their throat.  Izzy wants to fall and kneel, take advantage of the fact that Alec’s her brother and take a moment to mourn and just breathe but she can’t.

Alec may be her brother but Alec’s guide is her enemy.

This is Alec’s last gift.

Her life, before her brother completely turns to the other side.

That warlock didn’t demand this. 

Oh the Clave will assume so and so will their parents.  They’ll make it sound like the warlock mind-controlled Alec but Izzy knows the truth.  This is a gift.  A courting gesture. A Raziel damned promise, that Alec will never betray his new guide and is firmly by his side, despite being enemies only moments before.

Izzy gets past the runline and to the tents, where runed defenses normally keep those in charge and those wounded who are sent back to heal.

Her first step past the zone where her body can recognize nephilim grace and she collapses. Rolling with the force of her fall and barely remembering to tuck herself to take the brunt on her shoulder rather than head.

For a moment she lays there, blood and mud in her mouth and then she’s being hauled up.  Aline and Sebastian pulling her up and into a tent rather than in the mud.

“Izzy, what in Raziel’s name is happening past the runes? We can’t see anything.” Sebastian’s voice is soothing and familiar and Izzy chokes, turning to spit before accepting a canteen of water.

“The High Warlock, the one no one can get near. The reason my parents got called to Idris—” Izzy gets out and then she takes several more sips.  They’ve both paled but what they’re imagining is nothing as bad as the reality.  “He’s a guide. A powerful guide, he brought the entire battlefield down. Even his own side and by the time I managed to get up it was too late.” Izzy shrugs, laughing mirthlessly as she cries because she can’t tell if this is worse or better than losing Alec to death. “He’s claimed Alec as his sentinel.”

Aline turns to where the wardline is lit up with silver-blue wards and runestones and Izzy follows her gaze.  The field she ran from can’t be seen, hidden beneath a deep, dark unnatural fog of crimson.

“The screams stopped a few seconds ago.” Sebastian murmurs, “I can’t tell if that’s bad or good. You think the warlock killed them all so that Alec wouldn’t have to choose? It makes sense he’d spare Izzy then, since she’s Alec’s sister.”

Izzy shakes her head, not sure if it’s guilt, love or exhaustion that holds her tongue from spilling the truth.  Better to let them understand and see with their own eyes the carnage Alec’s wrought. 

“Can you see out there, if you go past the wardline?” Aline asks her and Izzy isn’t sure, she doesn’t remember anything but trying to make sure she didn’t trip on the bodies that dropped as easily as the apples Izzy used to throw for Alec to shoot.

—-

Pleased avarice fills the entirety of Magnus as he watches his sentinel slaughter his way through packs of his fellow shadowhunters.  No sooner had Magnus pulled Alexander to his feet and into a kiss to ground his boy with his touch as he pulled Alexander from a zone-out and his sentinel bristled.  Turning his backto Magnus and hand on his unlit blade.

Magnus had thought it to be symbolic, that his delightfully tall sentinel wanted to show that he’d protect Magnus despite it hardly being necessary or what Magnus wants.  Instead of posturing however, he’d launched forward, blade reaping lives and his psyche oozing grim satisfaction. He’s a scythe in a field of bodies ripe for the harvest. 

This isn’t protection, it’s carnage.

Magnus is quite frankly, shocked and delighted by Alexander’s brutal instincts and the way he cuts through bodies with both his blade and wings.  They’re bonded and even if it hasn’t settled that’s more than enough for him to shield Alexander from the mental agony ringing across the field.

His boy is drenched in the sacred and holy blood of his own people, uncaring of the gore as Alexander crushes bones and cuts off limbs. A battledance of gruesome beauty dedicated to Magnus alone.

Magnus hadn’t had any particular plans for the rest of the shadowhunters on the field before this. He’d fully intended on taking Alexander somewhere private, where he could make sure his sentinel wasn’t too overstimulated as they finished bonding. Sentinel senses could be rather delicate, especially before the final claim to complete and settle a bond. Alexander’s mind and soul submitted so sweetly to Magnus’ claiming that he thought he’d need to protect his boy until it settled.

Yet Alexander stands strongly, bow drawn and arrow aimed, feet steady and planted on bloodsoaked ground.  Quickly and efficiently picking off those who try to run, avoiding only one single shadowhunter.

That singular mercy would normally be enough to raise Magnus’ hackles, however the bond that thrums between his boy and the lone shadowhunter is familial and filled with farewell, not one of lust or yearning.

Still, it stokes something bitter in Magnus’ instincts that anyone was spared when this is a display from Alexander to himself.  It’s not even a display of protection, but one of devotion. One survivor won’t make him doubt his sentinel but it does make him wistful, as Magnus watches his boy decapitate one of the hunter’s actually trying to fight back.

Despite thinking of taking Alexander somewhere calm and isolated, where his senses could be soothed as they bonded, Magnus has changed his mind.

Because while it isn’t necessary, Magnus intended to finalized his bond with Alexander with sex. He wants a primal bond and considering Alexander is slaughtering the soldiers he was leading only moments ago, his boy can only want the same.

Magnus doesn’t want to tame Alexander’s tempest, he wants to unleash it and add his own gale to the storm.

—-

The minute every threat is neutralized — perhaps not yet dead, but no longer a threat, Magnus pushes his sentinel down onto the ground and follows. Kissing Alexander messily and marveling at how just how much blood his boy got on himself during the massacre he just gifted Magnus.

“You’re divine, Alexander.” Magnus praises as he kisses blood from Alexander’s jaw and they both groan when Alexander gets his viscera soaked fingers under Magnus’ shirt. They’re firm and calloused and slick with still warm blood and Magnus chuckles into Alexander’s mouth as he uses magic to get both their pants open.

“I hope you’ll forgive me darling, but I’m afraid after your little display we’re bonding here and now, Alexander. I’ll fuck you on silks and roses later if you like, but for now. I’ll have you like this.” Magnus means it too, his sweetly vicious sentinel deserves finery and gentleness as equally as he deserves to be ravaged in the pools of blood he’s created.

Alexander chuckles under him, eyes dark and wild as he pulls Magnus down so he can lean up and kiss him — teeth catching on Magnus’ lip in a taunt.

“You think I mind bonding on the land I washed clean for you with blood? You think I’d let you bond me somewhere else? I’m your sentinel now. You decreed it. So prove it here, where it can’t be denied.”

Magnus has to kiss him for that and then Magnus drags his fingers through the thick blood on Alexander’s clothes.

“Do you think your dead comrades ever imagined that the most useful thing they’d ever do in life or death is help me fuck you open?”  

Alexander whines, hips wriggling to give Magnus more room to pull his pants down far enough so Magnus can fuck him. 

Magnus pets his fingers across Alexander’s hole, anointing it with the blood of Alexander’s own hunters with a smirk.  There’s a whine of impatience and Magnus spits, letting blood and saliva mix and adding magic to slick the way as he presses into Alexander.

Magnus feels as impatient as Alexander looks, the way he’s urging Magnus to hurry with little hitching breaths and judders of his hips as he clenches down on Magnus fingers.

“I’m trying to loosen you sweetheart, let me in.” Magnus nips at Alexander’s ear, careful to avoid breaking or biting skin just yet. “If you keep clenching like that, how are you ever going to handle my cock, hmm?”

Alexander whines, tensing despite Magnus orders and finally after a deep, steadying breath he forcibly relaxes.  Magnus fucks into him with his fingers, curling them and twisting and holding down Alexander’s hip with his other hand. Unrepentant when he finds Alexander’s prostate and rubs teasingly at it.

“There, isn’t that better?” Magnus asks and Alexander’s gasp of his name is the correct answer as Magnus adds a third finger, twisting until he’s knuckle deep. The rings of his fingers pressing together and stretching Alexander’s rim tight against the cold metal.

Magnus crooks his fingers teasingly, the rings threatening to slip past Alexander’s rim and he laughs in delight as Alexander comes, breathless and untouched between them.

“Such a good boy,” Magnus praises him mentally and also petting him with emotions.  Laving him with affection and pride and Alexander squirms, clenching around Magnus’ fingers like he’s afraid they’ll leave.  Magnus gives him a moment to settle and then presses his fingers deeper, curling them so they press insistently against Alexander’s prostate this time.

It earns him a deep whine and Alexander tenses and trembles beneath him.  His wings are muddy, fluttering and gathering filth and blood and Magnus only allows it because he’ll personally clean each and every feather later.

Once Alexander is entirely his.

Alexander’s hole is pink and swollen and streaked with blood when Magnus pulls his fingers free.  It’s obscene to use nephilim blood to fuck Alexander, but how can Magnus waste such a precious opportunity when it’s been provided by Alexander.

Magnus slicks his cock with the blood on Alexander’s torso and then fucks into him.  He’s not nice or gentle about it and Alexander’s scream is silent as his nails claw into Magnus’ back and he bites at the shoulder of Magnus’ jacket.  His teeth nearly pierce through the leather, prickles of pain teasing at Magn us’ skin as Alexander moans.

“Did I forget to mention the piercings, darling?” Magnus barely manages to get the words out.  Breathless himself and too entranced by how tight Alexander is around him.  The jacobs ladder of platinum rings down his cock dragging and catching on Alexander’s hole had been blissful but it’s even better now, fully inside him. Magnus has to take a moment, just to let himself feel as Alexander’s soft walls flutter around him. Each of the nine captive beaded piercings ensure that his sentinel will never be able to forget the feeling of Magnus fucking him. 

Of Magnus claiming him from the inside out..  

Alexander is breathing wildly, wings puffed up and trembling and eyes clenched shut as he tries to breathe.  There’s blood and mud in his hair and on his face and Magnus snaps his hips forward, just to make Alexander look at him.

He does, gasping out Magnus' name in both complaint and awe.

—-

Alec can feel everything and it’s been too much since Magnus caught him and claimed him but that doesn’t matter. Because all sensation fades away, to where he can’t feel the mud or smell the blood or anything but Magnus.

Magnus cock breaks and remakes him, as he memorizes every imprint of metal and flesh inside him as Magnus fucks him. 

Alec could zone out on the sensation of cool metal that stays chilled and Magnus’ cock searing hot in contrast. He can’t though, Magnus keeps him on the edge of awareness, dragging his cock in and out in smooth, slow thrusts, as if he has all the time in the world. Each piercing catches on Alec’s rim, again and again every time Magnus pulls out only to slam back in and when he hits Alec’s prostate, it’s with metal kissing it.

Alec can still hear the gasps of the dying.  The gargle of blood in lungs, slowly drowning those he stabbed in vital places but didn’t personally finish off.

But what does that matter when he can also hear the way Magnus’ heart beats in tandem with his own and feel how Magnus cock pulses inside him, slicking his walls with precome and the blood Magnus opened him with. Alec’s too sensitive to come again, even if he’s half-hard and wishing he could. That kind of pleasure would black him out when he’s this open and overwhelmed or worse. Send him into a zone out..

Magnus is shielding him, but not completely, not yet.

He wants Alec to feel this and Alec wants to feel it even if he feels like he’s drowning.

Alec wants to feel the raw agony of death around him as he discovers the brutal joy of being found and claimed. Wants to be lost and then found again by the pained pleasure of Magnus fucking him, his cock erasing and rewriting every moment Alec ever felt lonely and aching and empty without Magnus.

Magnus fingers stroke his dick, forcing him fully hard and then slowing to jerk Alec off with unhurried, lazy movements as the thick crimson fog around them begins to disperse.  

It lingers on the edges of his vision before disappearing and Alec groans as he realizes Magnus did it on purpose.

Magnus wants everyone to see and feel the backlash as their bond finishes forming, to witness Alec’s guide fucking him in a valley of blood and as Magnus comes, the bond sears fully into place.

Existence roars and the world spins before it’s tucked away behind Magnus, the sensations that overwhelm Alec fading away. Even with as over sensitive and vulnerable as he is.

He comes, barely feeling and nearly blacking out from the feeling of Magnus’ limp cock and hard piercings sliding from his raw hole. 

Fingers pet over his face and he can hear each kiss of metal teeth as Magnus zips him back into his pants and then hauls him up.  Alec’s not sure how he does it, when Alec’s spine feels like jelly and his wings are a dead weight.

There’s the noise of a portal and Alec follows with relief, knowing that wherever Magnus takes him will be home.

Will be safe.

—

AN:

When Magnus dropped his shields, they connected on a psionic level and he claimed Alec mentally, he then locked Alec’s senses on him with a quick imprint, to ensure that Alec will know him no matter what.  The sex just finalized the bond and also cemented what kind of bond it is. The psionic melding shared the basics of who they are with each other. Not like, favorite color and food, but like the primal basics of a soul and mind and their names.

I’m gonna explain the sentinel/guide bonds in my universe because everyone kind of has their own thing and mine is aro/ace inclusive which a lot of them are really not. In fact in this universe stabilizing/formalizing/settling a bond via sex is the rarer of the three options.

Okay so full-bonding can occur with either sex/mutual full sense-imprinting (including psionic)/and mutual, scarring bites. There’s about a twelve hour window after you start forming your bond to stabilize it with a full/complete bonding. It does not take a full twelve hours, but that’s about the limit before you start going feral with the need to finalize the bond.

Full and (mutual) sense-imprinting is both physical and psionic and creates a bond based on a kind of mutual steadiness, a baseline bond that's got a firm and even foundation and is very grounded. If one half of a pair is especially hot-headed/reckless/impulsive or something, they might want this kind of a bond to help ground themselves just a little more. Or if both sides have anxiety etc. This is the kind of bond that helps stabilize you and your partner to the point where a lot of partners can work apart if they want/need to. It’s the most common bond. 

A mutual bite blood-shared bond creates a very protective more insular bond. It’s basically the most defensive version of the bonds and it’s very focused on each other. More contact platonic or otherwise is required, a lot of holding hands and leaning against each other and generally being in each other’s space. Which is less optional and more a need to feel each other as close as can be. Most pairs who bond like this don’t work apart ever. Second most common bond.

Sex bonding is actually in fact a sex ritual with a side of bonding and is more raw and primal driven. It’s a more rare form of bonding because of that. The bond it forms is a violent, decadent and feral energy that toes the line of humanity. It’s a more rare bond because it does symbolize a sacrifice of control for the raw, wildness of a bond that's also rabidly obsessive. Depending on the pair, you never know if they’re more or less dangerous together or apart and which they are depends on the sentinel/guide. Least common bond.

After a bond stabilizes, the acts of full sense imprinting, sex and biting each other don’t have any effect on the bond itself. They’re just fun things they can do or not do. 

Yes they still need to do full sense and psionics imprints, but if they’d done that first it would be a different kind of bond. Therefore, sex first.

There are nine captive beaded piercings (which are a hoop with a locking bead in the middle that seals the piercing shut) on Magnus’ Jacob’s ladder piercing and they represent the nine circle of hell because he’s extra like that.

also for anyone wondering, Magnus didn’t influence Alec at all even though he could have. Alec is just also extra and wants to make sure Magnus understands that he’s picking Magnus, just like Magnus chose him. Alec wants everyone to know what side of this war he now belongs to. there will be no allowance of someone even hinting he's not loyal to Magnus and Magnus alone.