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[themultifanshipper]

So I read the your story about Logan, George, Max and paddock bunny reader. It was fucking amazing.

Could I maybe request a fluff one where some random man is very sexist and mean towards her. The drivers see it and become kind of protective. When she wants to reward them with sex, they are being like : No honey. You just rest and look pretty while we murder this idiot☺️👍

But please don't feel pressured to write it if you don't feel comfortable

You should have known as soon as the journalist approached you that this wouldn't end well.

“Would you mind answering a couple of questions, miss?”

You naively said yes, not expecting the line of questioning that was about to come.

Part 3 of "One of the Boys"

Warnings: a smidge of angst, lots of fluff, drivers being protective, a lil smut at the end but it's skippable, i've put a *** where it starts, dirty talk, sleepy sex, smut with Oscar and Lando, mentioned smut with Charles, Max and George just being good friends

“Care to comment on the rumour that you are in the paddock as a sexual companion for the drivers to use to relieve stress?”

Your breath got caught in your throat.

“Excuse me?”

The man cleared his throat and continued.

“Sources say you have slept with multiple drivers, is it because you have some sort of agreement or contract? Or are you just that promiscuous?”

You stared at him open mouthed, not knowing what to say.

“Or are you perhaps doing it for money? Do you have a sugar daddy in the paddock? Do you limit yourself to drivers or do you also let team officials have a go at you?”

What the fuck.

Tears prickled your eyes at the onslaught of invasive questions as rage filled you.

“Who the fuck do you think you are? What gives you the right to ask about my sex life?! What I do in my free time is none of your fucking business, and for your information, I do not receive money from any member of the paddock, and I am NOT just a toy to use for men whenever they feel like! Just because I'm a woman you assume I have an ulterior motive for being here but-”

Your voice was getting louder as each word left your lips and the shouting attracted the attention of George and Max that were passing nearby.

“What's going on here?” Max asked the man as George noticed a tear run down your cheek. “Are you okay?”

You wiped at it furiously and nodded “Yeah I'm fine!”

Max stared daggers between you and the man “What the fuck did you say to her?”

The man rolled his eyes dismissively.

“I wanted to know if the rumours of her being the paddock's whore were true… I guess I have my answer”

The sudden urge to swing at him almost overtook Max but he held himself in check. George put arm around you and lead you away, managing to spit out a ‘go fuck yourself’ to the man.

Max ripped the man's lanyard off and checked the name on it.

“Well done, Jonathan, you've successfully managed to get yourself banned from ever coming to a race again, good luck salvaging your career after I'm done making sure you never work in sports journalism ever again”

He stormed off straight towards the offices, ready to bribe the entire FIA top brass if it meant protecting you from ever living through that again.

You and George made your way through the paddock and ran into Oscar on the way, who noticed your distress immediately.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?”

Another tear ran down your cheek as you all but threw your arms around him and squeezed him, tears dampening his team polo.

He widened his eyes at George in question, who ran a hand up and down your back soothingly.

“Some dickhead journalist was being a cunt and calling her the paddock whore. Max is sorting it”

“Shit, I'm so sorry baby. That shouldn't have happened”

George hummed in agreement. “One thing's for sure, it won't happen again if Max has anything to say about it”

You sniffled and let Oscar go, straightening yourself out before the next session as the other drivers had to go and get ready.

Qualifying was nerve wracking. It was Monza after all.

Oscar made you stay in the McLaren garage to stop any unwanted attention falling on you.

Him and George came to find you after, at least one of them staying by your side at all times like guard dogs until it was time to go.

You were still a bit shaky as you spotted Max waiting for you by the entrance.

“I've sorted it. That guy won't be coming anywhere near the paddock for at least 5 years, and I've sent a request for a GDPA meeting to discuss the need for extra security for drivers and their guests”

George made an impressed face and Oscar hummed.

“I don't know how to repay you guys for today” you fiddled with the hem of your top as your eyes shifted from one driver to the other until they landed on Max “At least let me do something for you”

Your hand went to Max's chest but he took it and squeezed.

“Absolutely not. That would be taking advantage of you and I refuse to prove that asshole right”

The other two readily agreed.

“You're free to stay in any of our hotel rooms if it will make you feel better, but we’re your friends and our priority is keeping you safe”

You started getting emotional again as you hugged them before swearing you'd be fine on your own and going your separate ways.

You once again ended up staying in the same hotel as the McLaren drivers.

And as you unwinded after your day you started getting a bit stressed out at the idea of something like this happening at every race and before you knew it you found yourself in front of Oscar's hotel room, on the verge of an anxiety attack.

It wasn't Oscar that opened the door however, it was Lando. And he was shirtless.

You stared at him as you tried to collect your thoughts.

“Hey baby, you okay? Oscar told me what happened earlier”

You surged forwards and hugged him, making the man stumble a bit.

He wrapped his arms around you protectively and squeezed while you inhaled the comforting scent of his cologne.

Oscar, wondering who was at the door, came to investigate and awed at the sight of you two cuddling in the doorway.

You looked at him only in his boxers, and were suddenly hit with the realisation.

“Wait, shit. Were you about to fuck before I knocked?”

Oscar laughed and patted you on the back. “Don't worry about us baby, if you need company we're always available for you”

You had to hold back tears as you asked to take a shower, which you did, before climbing into bed in a borrowed shirt, the other two climbing in either side of you.

Oscar turned the light off and you snuggled up to him.

As your beathing synced up with his, your hand wandered over his chest. “You sure you don't want a quick blowjob?”

He snorted and slapped your hand away as Lando cackled behind you. “Absolutely not! Go to sleep and we'll see what happens tomorrow, I'd rather earn it by beating the others on track”

He gave you a quick peck on the cheek before wrapping arm around you.

You fell asleep like that, Oscar drawing patterns on your arm and Lando snoring softly behind you.

***

You woke the next morning completely tangled with another body.

Turns out it was Lando's, and he was shifting around, letting out soft puffs of breath against your forehead.

And you couldn't blame him, you were almost panting yourself, both at how hot you were because of you being plastered against his body, and at the fact that his thigh was between yours and rubbing against your clothed pussy with all his shifting around.

You moaned softly and that seemed to wake him up with a start, eyes darting around until they focused on your face and he realised what was happening.

His hard cock was rutting against your hip and he shuddered when your hand went down to palm him through his boxers.

“Fuck baby, I hope you're feeling as needy as I am right now”

You giggled into his shoulder and nodded, hand slipping into his boxers to thumb at his wet tip.

He quickly stopped you, lest he come too quickly and kissed your forehead before trailing your own hand down your body.

“Touch yourself” he whispered “tell me how wet you are for me”

You slid a finger through your folds and your suspicions were confirmed as it almost slipped right in with how slick you were.

“So fucking wet, Lan” you whispered back, you didn't know if Oscar was still sleeping behind you but you didn't care.

“Shit you're right” Lando’s finger had joined yours “I could slip right in. Can I?”

You nodded and he lazily slid your slick panties out of the way and rubbed himself through your folds a couple of times before pushing in.

It was a tight fit, but he was right, he slid inside with no resistance and he groaned as he bottomed out.

“Fuck. Shit. Hell, I'm not going to last long, baby” his voice was tight as he started rocking his hips gently.

You just got wetter as he went deeper and deeper, hooking your leg over his hip to drive into you with more force.

You bit into his shoulder to try and keep your noises at bay but it was useless as Lando used you to chase his pleasure and it didn't take long for him to start whimpering into your skin.

“Can I come inside you, baby, please?”

“Of course, Lan. Come for me, good boy...”

“Fuck” his hips slammed against yours twice more as he filled you up.

You quickly ripped the covers off you and breathed a sigh of relief as the slightly cooler air of sunny Monza hit your over heated skin.

He kissed you sweetly and it almost escalated into more but you heard a chuckle behind you.

Your two heads snapped to Oscar.

The fucker was laying on his side, head propped on his hand as he watched you with a smile.

“Well that was quick” he teased, eyes full of mirth “I'm glad you interrupted us last night if that's the performance I was going to get”

You giggled and Lando huffed “Oh fuck off. If you felt how fucking sweet her pussy is you wouldn’t have lasted either”

“Challenge accepted” Oscar said with glee as he slid towards you and plastered himself against your back.

“You can go shower while I take care of her” he unhooked your leg from Lando's waist and lifted it as he lined himself up and pushed into you slowly.

Your eyes rolled back at the stretch (because Oscar was slightly thicker than Lando) and the change of angle which made him grind into your g-spot dead on.

Lando rolled his own eyes, crawling out of bed to go and shower, grumbling on the way.

“That's not fair, you've got the better angle you bastard…”

Oscar chuckled and thrusted into you harder, ripping a moan from your throat.

You were about to move to get on top of him but Oscar held you firmly in place.

“No baby, let me do all the work”

He rolled over you and pressed your body into the mattress, his weight comforting on top of you as he jackhammered his hips into you at the perfect angle to make you see stars.

One of his hands squeezed itself in-between your body and the mattress to find your puffy cunt and rubbed calculated circles on your clit.

You came so hard you almost blacked out and you started begging for him to come inside you, knowing how to make him weak in the knees.

“Please Osc, fill me up with your come, make me carry a part of you inside me while you race”

Oscar let out a punched out moan and there's nothing he could do to stop it as he did just that, pumping you full to the brim with his cum as he growled into your shoulder, teeth probably leaving indents on your skin.

Once his brain had stopped melting he landed a sharp slap to your ass.

“That wasn't part of my plan. Fucking witch.”

You laughed as he got off you to go join Lando in the bathroom.

“I know my way around my boys' kinks, what can I say?” you laughed as he flipped you off.

“Yeah, yeah. I want a rematch, tonight if I win. I'm not stopping until you're crying”

Fat chance, you thought.

You giggled and got up to follow him in, also desperately needing a shower.

Well, he didn't win, so you didn't get to see him that evening (though your celebrations weren't anything less than extraordinary, after all, it wasn’t every day that Il Predestinato won at Ferrari's home race).

What you did get however, was a video the next day.

As you lay in bed with Charles, you clicked on the icon curiously and almost spit out the coffee he’d gone and bought in an attempt to nurse your hangovers.

It was from Oscar's point of view, fucking Lando missionary, and the older man was covered, and I mean covered, in what you assumed was his own cum. He was whimpering as Oscar fisted his cock in time with his hips' movements.

“See? I told you I could last longer. Made him come so many times he can't even speak” Oscar growled into the microphone

You (and a curious Charles) watched in silent horror as Lando came again with a sob, completely dry.

It was an unhinged thought, but you secretly hoped Oscar would win the next race, and every single race until the end of time.

[delphi-shield]

connection buffering . . . ↺

di!leon x reader - long-distance relationship - part 2

previous part

you weren't bluffing.

you'd made the sign. wrote his name in big block letters, too confident in how you wrote the first half of his name. the 'EDY' crowds together at the end. 'E' shoves 'D' close to the end, 'Y' drawn paper thin and cocked to the side, threatening to topple off the edge of the paper. leon finds he's not too tired to laugh.

he had the whole goddamn flight to figure out what to say to you, but when he sees you standing there with that sign in your hand, scanning the crowd for a man you expect to be two inches taller, it all flushes out of him to make room for the queasy feeling in his gut. when you finally spot him (thank god; the words had gotten lodged in his throat, your name running around his mind again, again, again, lodged so deep in the crevices that he couldn't pry it free and force it out his mouth) your smile nearly blinds him. he shields his eyes with a hand, watches you bounce on the balls of your feet.

he flicks your sign with a finger. the only words that make it past the lump in his throat are, "messed up the kerning, huh?"

you tip your head, puppy-dog cute. more adorable in person. "the what?"

"kerning." silence. you shake your head a little, blank look in your eye. leon tries to swallow, feels barbs jab into his throat. ten minutes on the ground and he's fucking up already. his gut turns. he tries to blame it on airplane peanuts. "the space between the letters."

he should get back on the plane. if he flashes his badge and declares it official business they have to let him on, right? brass wouldn't be happy with him, but what are they going to do? he's leon fucking kenn--

you laugh and his thoughts screech to a halt, plane crash on the concourse. footsteps pound past him - or maybe that's his heartbeat in his ears. your laugh is prettier in person, too.

"okay, all right." your face lights up, eyes squished to make room for your smile. "why do you know that?"

mentally, he flips through a rolodex of excuses. he moonlighted as a graphic designer (false), he was really into fonts (no strong opinions, really), it's classified (outright lie). he settles for the truth, shrugging.

"late night wikipedia dive."

you laugh again. his heart is a bird, fluttering in his chest, battering itself against his ribs to get to you. what the hell is wrong with him? he hadn't felt like this in years, thought he wasn't supposed to feel like this anymore. when you were an adult you grew out of this sort of giddiness. he'd choked it down every time he'd checked his phone under the table at an intelligence meeting, dismissed it as heartburn. he's supposed to want. it's supposed to be a blaze that swallows him up. confident and bold and all-consuming. not fidgety and desperate.

he's not anxious. he's a grown man. he's met presidents, plural. he doesn't get nervous meeting people, even if they're stunning, even if his hands twitch to hold theirs.

does he hug you? kiss you? slip his hand into your back pocket and guide you out of the terminal, lead you blindly to a car that isn't his, take you to an apartment he's only ever seen portions of on a 15 inch screen, ask what he can make you for dinner in your own home? that's what he wants. skip over all of this and slide right into familiarity, fly right past all the work it takes to get there. you've done the leg work, right? you know how you feel about each other. he's here. that says enough, doesn't it?

he's eternally grateful that you reach through his thoughts and pull him into a hug. your face stuffs into his shoulder, words muffled. "i'm so glad you're here."

you inhale deeply and he swears his heart does a backflip. jesus, he needs to get a physical. this can't be normal.

it's you who loops your arm with his, you who tugs him into motion. you rattle off questions that he answers as best he can. it feels like drowning, like he can barely keep his head above water. his flight was fine, thanks for asking. no, he didn't get any sleep. he never sleeps on planes. it's a long story. he didn't need a nap, but yeah, he could go for a coffee.

you know this great place, you reassure him. really low-key. he treads water in the parking garage while you dig for your keys. you drop them - twice - and he wonders if you're struggling to stay at the surface, too.

as a last act before sinking into the passenger seat, he rescues your sign from the trash, folding it neatly and tucking it into his pocket.

he looks up from buckling his seat belt, beckoned by the way you call his name. he's still smiling when you cup his cheeks and kiss him.

by day two, he's decided you need a new apartment. he hasn't told you that yet, figures it comes off too pushy, but he would fly back down to help you move if you wanted. (if he thinks it hard enough, won't you ask him to?)

don't misunderstand - he likes what you've done with the place. honest to god, you're a miracle worker with decor. you could really shape his place up.

it's just that your front door is less than secure. your locks are ran through. it would take him less than a minute to break in. he doesn't even want to think about your windows. other than being drafty, they're just another completely unsecured access point.

you'd invited him to sleep in your bed the first night, and he had every intention of doing so. he'd just passed out on the couch before he had the chance. leon had woken with a pillow stuffed under his head, thick, handmade blanket tucked over him. it was sweet. really.

but it wasn't the same as sleeping next to you.

leon has every intention of sleeping in your bed that night. you'd filled the day with a tour of your city, pointing out your favorite and least favorite spots, telling stories that let him imagine the streets as a stage, you as the star, top billing as far as he's concerned. everything had been optional, as you'd feverishly reassured him after every stop. he could change the itinerary with one word. the only mandatory stop had been lunch with your friends. a good sign, he thinks. if you're confident enough to introduce him to the people in your life, then you see this going somewhere, right?

by the time you hit your last stop, it feels like he's emerged from a war zone. leon would know. he's been run ragged on back to back operations before, but this - the pressure of trying to be right for you, to show you who he is, waiting on pins and needles for you to sour on him and push back from the closeness he craves - this is truly exhausting.

you must feel it too, offering to pick up dinner on your way home in lieu of cooking. he waves away apologies, reaches past you to hand the cashier at taco bell his card when you try to pay. the food is gone by the time you pull your car into the parking lot.

both of you have the same idea. you're just as worn out as he is (makes him wonder if you're doing the same thing, all anxious energy, making sure to put your best foot forward, always stumbling and falling into a better impression than the one you set out to make) and bed comes naturally to mind. he slips into the side closest to the door and you stop him immediately, voice teasing.

"uh, that's my side." you poke at his ribs. the awkwardness had melted over the course of the day together. you were playful, eyes bright and laugh loud. touch came easy between you now, both playful and lingering. the comfort that had been stirred up and tossed into disarray by physical proximity had settled back in.

leon's eyes flit to the door over your shoulder. it's not a big deal, he tells himself. the odds of something happening were astronomically low.

but he knows his luck with astronomically low odds. one in a million is too risky. he's got to be closer to the door, won't be able to sleep if he's not. his hands wrap around your waist, urging you on top of him. he doesn't miss the way you stiffen, the momentary hitch of your breath, but you let yourself get swept along all the same, drape yourself over him as he guides you to.

"just sleep like this." leon shifts lower to make more space for you. he presses a kiss to your head.

it takes longer than he expected for you to relax. slowly, when his hands still at your back and his breathing evens out, your limbs loosen. your weight thickens atop him, pressing him further into the mattress. it's all he can do to remind himself that he's tired, that starting something now would lead nowhere fast.

leon stays awake until he's certain you're out cold. the door remains unbreached, your home still safe. he can't bring himself to regret his caution.

when he's finally able to sleep, he sleeps hard. he wakes to your fingers carding through his hair, his cheek cushioned against your chest, completely flipped around during the night. it's the best night he's had in years.

on day three, leon wonders if he should be more obvious.

he's been putting out all the signs, carefully curated his touch to be lingering, to make you burn for more, but each time you settle against him and offer up a contented "this is nice."

does there need to be a neon sign draped around his neck that says "take me for a spin", arrow blinking down toward his crotch? you'd let him press against your back during an afternoon nap, knee wedged between your legs, arm curled around your stomach to keep you next to him. he woke from dreams where he was bolder, where he wasn't afraid of losing you with that lingering confidence, pressed kisses to the back of your neck until that gauzy empowerment lifted.

hell, he'd woken up that morning laying half on top of you, his head nestled in the valley of your chest. you'd pet his hair til he woke from nuzzling your tits in his sleep.

he abandons subtlety during the credit crawl of eight-legged freaks, a 'classic' you had insisted on making him watch. (you'd laughed when he had commented he could keep you safe in the event of giant spiders. he hadn't been joking, but he still hasn't grown tired of hearing you laugh.)

"hey," he asks, hand curling around your thigh. his thumb smooths an arc across your skin, traces the path again and again. "do you wanna..?"

smooth, kennedy.

you look over at him with that same puppy-dog confusion that he's growing familiar with. instead of moving his hand, you draw your legs up and lay them over his lap. how the fuck is he supposed to interpret that?

"do i wanna..?" you parrot back, drawing the words out into the form of a question.

leon hates himself. he wishes he could back out of this. he clears his throat. how the hell do people broach this topic smoothly? he searches for the words, the silence stretching a little too long for comfort. finally, he says the first thing he can.

"like, sex."

real mature, kennedy, he thinks. he wishes he could backpedal, take it all back. he's certain your face warms. before he can issue a take down for his words, (maybe cut out his stupid goddamn vocal cords, if he has the time) you fumble out, "oh. like- right now? uh, i mean, do you want to?"

continuing with the maturity, he turns it back on you.

"i asked you first."

"i don't not want to."

leon shakes his head. his hand cups your ankle. "i really only take 'yeah' or 'hell yeah'."

"i just didn't think giant spiders got you in the mood."

"hey, the more legs the better."

leon knows deflection when he hears it. he's the reigning champ, after all, could play this game with you all day. but he has mercy; he chuckles, lets you get away with it and grabs the remote, declaring it's his turn to pick another movie since your choice was a mood killer.

later that night, curled up in bed with a video playing mindlessly from your tablet, you turn around to face him. he widens his arms to accommodate the movement, circles them tighter once you settle in.

"you're not mad?" you ask, pressing your face into his chest, already hiding from the answer.

"about what?"

"y'know."

"spell it out for me, sweetheart."

he can feel your breath puff against his chest, an exasperated huff. people have done this same thing to him time and time again. he always hated it, being forced to be forthcoming and earnest. (vulnerable, some people call it, but that always made him feel like a wounded bird.) now that he's on the other side, he sort of sees the appeal.

"'cause i don't wanna have sex yet."

there's a 'yet'. that's promising. he saves that little victory for later. his hand rubs slowly, reverently across the planes of your back.

he knows what he's got to say. he knows that he means it. putting the words to it is different. he needs you to understand, has to do this right.

"i didn't come all this way just to hook up."

you hum. "but you still want to."

christ, he's got to man up and say it.

"of course i do." you burrow closer to him, hands fisting against his side. he taps your back firmly. "hey. i'm not finished. i'm attracted to you, okay? like, really attracted to you. it's not- it's not just physical. i want to see if we can make this work. if what we had on the phone was real."

"is it?"

"yeah. i think so."

"sex isn't important to you?"

"it is. it's just not more important to me than you."

you pull your face from his chest, look up at him with big wet eyes. he brushes the backs of his fingers against your cheek tenderly, afraid you'll splinter and those tears will cascade down if he's anything but gentle.

"i think so, too."

you curl back into him, your touch melting from desperate to serene. leon can't help but feel accomplished - as though he's threaded the needle perfectly, cut the right wire just before the clock hit zero. gradually, his breathing falls into step with yours.

"besides," he murmurs, half-asleep. he drops a kiss against the top of your head. "your walls are thin. i don't want you catching a noise complaint."

day four is a glimpse of the life he could have, but it makes him realize what he needs to do to obtain it. the sickly feeling pools in his stomach, leaves him picking at the dinner you made. it's good, he swears. then the lie - just all the travel catching up to him.

he knows by day five that he's got to tell you everything. it's no longer a want - he needs you in his life. he's resolved to come clean.

he nearly does it over breakfast. you set his coffee in front of him, muss his hair before you take your own seat, and it almost comes spilling out onto the table.

i work in national security. i'm a federal agent. there's so much i can't tell you, but it's dangerous. god, it's dangerous. there's so much blood on my hands. it doesn't scrub off but i'm worried it will stain your skin. i think i could love you, if you'll let me. please don't say it back.

"plans today?" he says instead, sipping his coffee.

maybe tomorrow.

day six leaves him melancholy.

you'd insisted that today was for him. whatever he wanted, you would accommodate.

leon worries that his answer is boring. he wants a day in with you. an imitation of what it could be like to come home to this. the idle sounds of you milling about the house could lull him to sleep if it weren't for the words lodged in his throat.

you were doing the laundry. not yours, not his, but the, the definite article that's never felt intimate until that very moment. it silenced him to hear you refer to it that way. he's so tired of reading into every word you say, clinging onto every nuance. he'd forgotten how exhausting this stage of a relationship is. you couldn't send him home with dirty clothes, you explained, and he had no argument against that. his eyes traced after you as you puttered around, busying yourself with tidying. you're so at home. of course you are. it's your apartment. but he wants that. he wants to lift you from this place and into his own home, to watch you make yourself at home and busy yourself with the mundane.

he's got to tell you today. he can't do it over text. it's wrong.

when you finally settle down next to him on the couch, drawing a blanket into your lap, you breach the topic gently, give him a chance to do it himself. leon doesn't realize how obvious he is when he gets that look on his face, all forlorn as if he'd collapsed onto a fainting couch, hand over the back of his forehead. drama queen.

"what's up?" you ask, sitting close - but infuriatingly distant, not quite touching him yet.

"nothing. just looking at you."

bless you for trying to make it easy on him. it's always been like pulling teeth to get him to talk. he's trained to resist torture and coercion, should know better than to melt under a gentle hand or the way your body fits against his side.

you hum softly, disbelieving. so that's it, then. the silence, the 'i'm respecting your distance until you break' tactics. damn, you're good. leon takes a deep breath, chest aching with the weight of what he has to say. now or never.

"look- i'm not who you think i am."

you don't miss a beat. "in what way?"

he has to force the words out. he's acutely aware that this could ruin everything. you could kick him out. block his number, never speak to him again. good. it was safer that way. you deserved a normal life.

"i lied to you. about my work."

"yeah, i know."

"i work in security. national security."

"leon. i know."

his brain reels back a few steps, trying to process your words.

"you know?" he repeats, almost offended. how could you know? was this a set up?

you pull your phone from your pocket, tapping a quick query in. you turn the phone to him. article after article, a few interviews pinned to the top. every link is purple, clicked on and read through. the one that draws his eye is tucked at the bottom of the screen, makes his skin crawl to remember.

KENNEDY, HARPER CLEARED OF CHARGES

"i googled you." you set your phone down on the coffee table.

"and you still let me into your house?" he was serious, but you laugh. leon's brow pinches. "how long?"

you shrug, as if this conversation is about the laundry. "a couple months. ever since you told me your last name."

"months? why didn't you say anything?"

"i was hoping you'd tell me yourself. and you did, sort of."

his mind is still reeling. the drama of it all had his wound up tight. where does he put that energy?

he must look as thrown-off as he feels, because you chuckle, sweep the hair from his eyes and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"i get why you don't tell people upfront. just don't hide stuff like that from me again, okay? seriously. i'll be mad."

it's more grace than he deserves. your acceptance churns his stomach. is there another meaning behind your words, a resentment coiling in the pit of your stomach?

you crack open your book and lean against his side. he settles his arm around you, moving slow, scared to frighten you away. only one chapter in, you pass him your phone, a take-out app order, asking what he wants. if you're mad, you hide it well.

day seven is a funerary procession. you help him scour your apartment for things he may have left behind, packing them neatly in his suitcase-shaped coffin. it's amazing how his things had flooded into your apartment during the short course of his visit. he had spread out, made himself comfortable. part of it had been testing how his belongings felt next to yours, how it all fit - the final test he had constructed in his mind. you'd passed that with flying colors, clearly. he's lost track of a shirt somewhere along the way, but he isn't concerned about it. he'll be back. he can look for it another time.

both of you linger at your front door. excuses are myriad, flowing from both sides. reasons to double back, reasons to keep his hand on your waist, your fingers in his hair, your lips on his.

but eventually the time becomes too urgent, the threat of missing his flight too real. he'd joked in the car that if he didn't turn up for work they might just send a helicopter to pick him up instead, expecting a laugh. you only smile, a wry twist of your lips that fades too quickly. you reach for your sunglasses and shove them on. the air is tense by the time you pull into the parking garage, cherry scented car freshener cloying.

“you gonna cry?” he teases.

you sniffle.

“oh my god.” he is such a jackass. “don't cry. i'm sorry, sweetheart. it's okay. jesus.”

“i just don't want you to go,” you squeak. your hands fist the steering wheel tight, knuckles turning white.

leon leans over the center console, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. he shrugs you closer to him, hushing you gently.

"let's plan another trip, okay?" he murmurs against your head, placing apologetic kisses there over and over. "c'mon. it's not forever. it's okay. i'm gonna call you when i land. we'll text, like we always do. it's my turn to pick the movie, so-"

fuck. his voice cracks. he clears his throat, blinks quickly to keep his composure.

"so, i'll pick a good one. wednesday night, okay? you, me, and a really good movie."

steadily, his promises slow your tears. the pressure of time detaches you from his hold. you're with him as far as you can go, waving him off to his gate. his heart sinks like a stone. he hates flights, never gets comfortable on them, but the way home feels longer than usual.

made it home he texts the second he's through the door. you're probably asleep. he hopes you are, at least. it's late for you, and--

yay

before he can bother telling you to go to bed, another message pushes through. his house felt empty before, but your message only deepens the feeling, hollows out the hallways and leaves his bed feeling too big, too cold.

i miss you already. call me tomorrow if you can.

leon squints at the screen.

"is that my shirt?"

you stop mid-sentence. caught red-handed - or, rather, grey-shirted.

it's your movie night since he made it back home. you're curled up in bed, your popcorn off to the side. he can fill in the gaps of your room now, knows what extends beyond the screen - and he knows that shirt. an old work tee of his that had mysteriously gone missing after you did the laundry. well-worn and soft. his name stamped on the back in big, block letters. possessive pride stirs in his chest to imagine you wearing his name.

sheepish, you promise, "i'll bring it back to you. how about next month?"

leon shakes his head. he pulls open his calendar, skimming through the busy weeks to clear the time for you.

"keep it. wear it to the airport for me so i know who to look for."

"you're not gonna make me a sign?"

"the shirt is the sign, sweetheart."

"are you gonna wear a matching one with my name on it?"

"i might." he opens another tab, googling how to make custom t-shirts. "you'll have to get here and find out."

connection restored -`♡´-

dividers from @/adornedwithlight

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Country Rose 2

Warnings: age gap, power dynamics, creep behaviour, other dark elements. As usual, be mindful of your content consumption.

I also beg of you to leave me some tuppence in the form of a comment and/or reblog. You are cherished!

Enjoy, my loverlies.

It's like a movie. The fields of tall corn and swaying wheat, the cows in the distance, the sky swirling in shades of pastel blue. It's a rustic portrait of a bygone time. You lose yourself in the serenity of it, swept away in a daydream despite the tickle in your nose.  

It isn't until the truck jerks to a stop and Clark cranks the gears into park that you return to earth. He grabs his hat from the dash and puts it on, shading his eyes from the sun as he gets out. 

You look out the windshield and close your dry eyes, trying to find an ounce of moisture. He comes around your side but you have your door open before he can get there. You hop down from the height as Clark retrieves your bag from the back. 

"Ma will be happy to meet you. She's been excited," he says as he waves you towards the porch of the farmhouse. 

"Oh wow," you gape up at the double storey house in awe. "This place is huge." 

"Too big for just us," he agrees. You tramp up the steps and to the door, hesitating as you get ahead of yourself. He reaches by you to pill back the screen door, "go on." 

You enter and look around. He puts your bag on the wooden bench as you sidle towards the wall. He removes his hat and puts it on a hook next to a stained flannel. 

"It's a farmhouse, you can keep your shoes on," he directs, "hey ma," he calls over your head as he points you past the staircase. "Back." 

You head down towards the open archway and step into a spacious kitchen finished in walnut and brass. A woman stands at the island, shucking cobs of corn. She smiles at your entrance and drops her handful. 

"She's here," she bleats and scurries around the counter. She's frail despite her energy, "oh, lovely." 

You're put off as she hugs you and you stand stalk still as you let her. She then embraces her son as he clears his throat. She backs off, smoothing her steely hair with knobby fingers. 

"My mother, Martha," Clark introduces as she touches her hip and backs up to the island. She leans on it subtly, "ma--" 

"Oh, I know," she trills your name, "it's so nice to finally meet you." 

"Uh, yeah, er, thanks," you sway nervously. You didn't realise it was such a big deal. 

"I'm gonna get her settled, you need anything?" Clark intones as he hovers close behind you. 

"Everything is perfect, honey, everything," she beams at you, "now everyone's here." 

You smile sheepishly and peek back at Clark. He beckons you after him as he leads you back down the hall. He has you go upstairs first and the stairs creak beneath him as he grabs your bag and follows. 

"Just down this way," he points you to the right. 

You take his direction down to a room near the end. You push inside and and he puts your bag in the wooden chair near the door. Everything is so pretty and tidy. A plaid quilt is draped at the end of a neatly made bed and there's a carved wardrobe against one wall. The rug matches the curtains and a table with a vase of flowers stands near the window. 

"Oh, it's cute." 

"Ma wanted everything ready for you," Clark says, "she gets lonely when I'm off working." 

"Uh, yeah," you stop by the bed and turn back to him, "so I'm going to be helping her?" 

"Sure, yep," he hooks a finger in a loop on his jeans, "she's had some difficulties since pa passed. She's not as... fit as she once was but she's stubborn. You can help her with the cleaning and cooking. Make sure she takes breaks," he explains as he frees his thumb and combs back his hair. "She does the listen to me and I can't keep an eye on her all the time." 

"I'm sorry, that must be hard," you frown. 

"Not to worry, there's another field hand. I just figured we could use someone in the house since Lenny left." 

"Right," you try to smile, "well, this is so nice and thank you for picking me up. I was a bit nervous." 

"Nervous?" He wonders as his cheek dimples. 

"It's a bit desolate out here," you chuckle, "when I got off the train I thought maybe it was the wrong place." 

"Ah, yes, it's a bit... lonely but it's peaceful," he says, "I'll let you get unpacked then and maybe after you can check in on ma? I don't want her doing all that alone." 

"Sure," you bounce, frenetic after so long sitting. 

He grins at your buzzing energy and backs up, "let me know if you need anything." 

"I'm good," you assure him. 

[willownwisp]

love on me

iv. you're exciting, boy come find me. (di!leon x fem reader)

author's note: yayyyyyy, fourth entry !

cw: NSFW MDNI. love hotels. p in v. oral (f receiving and m receiving).

part 4 of ree's leon valentine's advent

If he had been born under different circumstances, Leon swears he'd surely become a beach bum. Better an idle man rather than get smacked by bioweapons day in and night out, not only that, but have the top brass of good ol' U.S of A breathing down his neck constantly. Yet, he's a man who has seen things, he'd already vowed to protect whatever and whoever he can. Cold and cruel this life may be.

So he loves the warmth of the sun on him, lying down on a sun lounger sipping on dry drinks. Enjoy the view in the tropics of crystalline beaches and white sand on his feet, letting loose and relaxing himself.

Unfortunately, after the events of Alcatraz, maybe he's had enough of the sea for now. He gives himself a pat on the back, takes out a chunk of his savings to go to Japan because you've been eyeing it. You said you were interested in the food, culture, and sights.

So here he is, you in hand, his cute girlfriend clinging onto his bicep like a bunny that hopped in excitement at every interesting thing you see because you're adorable to him like that.

You were extra flirty too, Leon had chalked it up to you being over the moon because you were finally in Japan after so long of dreaming it, he's smug and pleased with himself, he likes the good boyfriend brownie points, but you had other things in mind.

"Bunny, aren't you cold?"

Leon cocked his head to the side to take a look at you, in your skirt, crop top, and cardigan combo. He's not the type of man to control women and their clothing. Come on, don't people listen to Beyonce? Girls run the world. He doesn't really know who the fuck Beyonce is but he does know Sherry listens to the song.

"Nope."

You give him a cheeky grin, shaking your head.

"Besides, you'll warm me up anyway."

You say this with a wink as you both card through the busy streets of Tokyo as Leon gives you an innocent grin, oblivious to your intent.

"Of course I would bunny. I take care of my pretty girl."

He coos, before giving you a chaste kiss on your forehead, you giggle at how he missed your innuendo before smirking.

"I wanna go somewhere."

You reply as you slide your hand to lace both your fingers together, his calloused ones enveloping your own as you all but drag him to the busy streets.

You turn him around to an alley, google maps pulled up on your free hand as you show him, what seems to be a rather flashy building illuminated by red neon lights and blinged up signs. It was like the establishment wanted to be purposefully flamboyant.

"What am I looking at bunny?"

You flash him a toothy grin, Leon knows that glint of mischief in your eyes as you reply.

"A love hotel."

Leon is floored.

"A what now? A motel? Bunny, if you were horny I'd be hauling your ass back to the hotel room right now."

He breathes out, smoke escaping from his lips as he quirks an eyebrow at you, but you giggle.

"This is different!"

No shit.

Leon thinks inwardly as sapphire eyes scan the building once more. Motels for sex used to be inconspicuous during his time. He really is getting old.

"You wanna check in bunny?"

You nod your head quite excitedly with a huge grin on her face, there's no mistaking it. Your eagerness, and Leon relents. Of course you would want a vacation and his cock. No surprise there.

Leon sighs and squeezes your hand, being the gentleman that he is, leading you inside of the garish establishment. He'd be lyin g if he says he isn't the least bit interesting, you were always the more exciting and free-spirited one.

On the reception counter, he waits for the key, with you standing just beside him, hands still entwined. As Leon grew curious, you grew embarrassed. The lobby was decorated with red. Red hearts, mirrors, sensual posters, and oh god, the brochures on a nearby rack that had photos of toys and costumes

You're fairly aware that love hotels are popular, but now that you're gonna experience this for yourself, bashfulness and your own eagerness had you blushing.

Leon could see you, feel how you'd gone and overheated in his arms and you both aren't in the room yet. He chuckles, squeezing you. You got him going now, as a shiver runs down his spine.

"Are you interested in a specific suite? You can take a look on our brochure here."

The receptionist asks and Leon shakes his head.

"We're fine with anything."

The receptionist nods, handing Leon the key as he cooly leads you to the designated room. Despite his laidback demeanor, Leon is already briskly walking, adrenaline in his veins. As you both reached the designated room, he eases the key in the lock as it opens with a low clicking sound. He leads you inside first, following behind but not before locking the door while you turn the lights on. Another clicking sound, the lighting is a kind of low red and Leon blinks as he follows in, you both inspect the room with amusement and fascination. There inside the center of the room is a queen round bed, with a heart-shaped headboard, covered in satin sheets and what seems to be a confetti of hearts on the foot of the bead, even the pillows were heart-shaped, and the most ridiculous part were the mirrors. Everywhere. Mirrors on the wall, on the ceiling, mirrors of various  shapes and sizes at each of the walls. Red, heart-shaped lounge chairs and a faux tiger rug. Gaudy as the room is, it certainly looks like a place to fuck alright. 

Your eyes slowly adjust to the light, but you were beaten by Leon, who is certainly not the least bit captivated by the interior choices. He did, however, wanted to fuck you in it. He's already dropped his coat on the floor before proceeding to toss his shirt away as he stares at you with an amused smirk while you stood speechless.

"You embarrassed now?

He asks while putting his hands on your waist before turning you around to face him. Face his smug face smirking at you.

"Who? Me?"

You reply with a cocky tone.

"Nah."

You wink at him and he chuckles, he takes your hand pulling you to him as he strides to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Figures," he shrugs "You always wanna fuck me. Don't you, bunny?"

He coos before kissing your palms, your fingertips brush across his lower lip, and he kisses your fingertips one by one, the small act only making you shiver.

"Is that a problem?"

You ask him as that familiar warmth pools in your stomach, he had just finished unbuckling his belt and is now rubbing his hands on your thighs, before peeling your skirt off of you.

He gives you that same handsome grin, there was a sparkle in his eyes and you blush. You take off the rest of your upper clothing to help him before Leon pulls you to sit on his lap, his pretty bunny.

He presses his lips into yours in a sweet kiss, before sweeping his tongue on your lower lip, a cue to open your mouth, proceeding to stick his tongue inside your mouth, tasting you and you sink into his lap. The kiss a passionate tango and as you both part for air, his lips connects to yours with a thin strand of saliva. He swipes it with his thumb before chuckling.

"You're so fucking pretty."

He breathes out before lifting you up, only to place you gently on the bed. Leon's eyes roam over your voluptuous figure, smirking at the dampness on your underwear, he kneels down, peeling that last pesky article of clothing off of you, already admiring how swollen your clit is already.

"So fucking hot too."

He murmurs against your skin as he trails kisses on your ankle, your knees, and up your thighs.

Your breath hitches on your throat, you feel yourself soaking the sheets with every kiss.

Your blissed out face doesn't escape Leon and he smirks, he presses another kiss on your pelvis, before he presses a kiss on your clit. It was like a greeting, in his silly mind.  

His cold breath against fans against your skin before he takes a long, languid lick on your pussy.

Your hands immediately reach down to grip fistfuls of his dark hair, pulling him closer as he licked over your slit, lapping at your essence.

"Fuck, Leon."

You whimper, tossing your head back and Leon smirks against your pussy. He always liked seeing you coming undone with his mouth. His tongue dips into your entrance, the wet appendage flicking and curling inside you.

He presses his thumb on your clit while his mouth still worked on you, relishing in your sweet taste and breathy moans while you could only shut her eyes closed and sob his name helplessly. He doesn't let up, he pulls his tongue out to wrap your clit in his warm mouth and sucking it, inserting two fingers inside your sopping wet pussy. Scissoring and curling inside you while his tongue flicks and sucks on the hood of your clit. It doesn't take look that you gush around his fingers in an orgasm and he smirks. He let's you breath, admiring your flushed face as he stood up. Takes his boxers off and his thick cock springs out, already erect leaking with precum. He stands beside your face. "Suck."

Despite his domineering voice, he looks at you with soft eyes and you turn your body to his direction, you sit up on the bed. With a lick of your lips, your fingers trail over his abs, before your tongue sweeps across his slit, swiping it clean with his precum and he grunts, his body tensing in your touch.

"Fuck yeah."

He hisses through gritted teeth as your tongue swirls around the head before engulfing his dick with your mouth. You dip your head, swallowing him deeper as your hands grab his waits, until his length reaches the back of your throat, knowing he was looking, you don't break eye contact and you suck his cock, thick on your tongue and rolling your eyes while he looks.

"Shit, bunny. So pretty sucking cock like that."

Leon's voice is throaty and you know he likes what he sees, his dick practically jumped in your mouth and you moan. The vibrations make him shiver violently, and he grunts.

"Goddamn."

He breathes, patting your cheeks, A signal for you to stop and you peels yourself off him with a pout like he had just taken your favorite lollipop. Which is true, he is after all, your favorite lollipop.

"Don't be upset now. You suck cock so good, I won't last long."

You both laugh in unison as he breathes in to calm himself, while stroke his cock, he twirls a finger around.

"Turn around for me, bunny. On your fours if you wanna be good."

You hum in response, turning your back to bend over for him. You arch your back, with your ass perked up against him. In that moment, you understand why Leon wanted to fuck you from behind. The image of you bent over and him standing up, his dick plush on your ass is reflected in all of the mirrors on the walls and you let out a scandalized gasp while Leon only chuckles, sensing your embarrassment.

"Wanna see you moan while I pound you into that fucking mattress."

Leon winks at you from the mirror and you see his smug expression reflected everywhere. He kisses your ass cheeks, he's too horny out his damn mind now. He's inside you with one strong thrust, his thick cock all the way inside and he shuts his eyes close. Stilling for a moment to let you adjust to his sized as you close your eyes and whimper.

"Jesus Christ… no matter how many times I fuck this pussy."

He groans, sweeping his auburn strands before steadying his grip on your waist.

"It never gets used to me. Poor little thing."

The fullness makes you squirm and he savors the addictive feeling of your walls clenching on his cock desperate to get him to just fit. You're pressed against the mattress, your pathetic moans muffled by the sheets.

When he starts to thrust, finding that rhythm, your body jerks forward with every rock of his hips. His body moves to cover your own.

"Watch us baby."

He whispers, his tongue sweeping on the shell of your ear and you could only whimper. Clutching the sheets as he finds his rhythm with his hips rocking against yours.

"Look. Don't hide."

He raps before tugging on your hair to forcibly lift up your face while his free hand tug on your arms. You find yourself feeling small with Leon's muscular body covering you. The muscles on his arm flex as both his hands are now grabbing your arms and your hair. The way his muscles pulled and flexed as his hips slams against her ass, the way your ass bounced on him, the thin layer of sweat that coated his torso, the way his mouth hung open in ragged breaths, the way your breasts bounce at every thrust. You feel so turned on at the sight it was crazy. It looked so erotic. This only elicits louder moans from you, while you move back against him, meeting his thrusts.

"Shit!" Leon groans, clenching his jaw. This positions and rhythm was blowing his mind, coupled with how your face twists into pleasure and the heat that coiled in his stomach. This was so fucking hot, he really wouldn't last long.

"Come here" He whispers, planting a kiss on your shoulder, before pulling out which makes you whine in displeasure. He chuckles, both his hands grab you, picking you up. Manhandling your ass to pin you down the mattress. "Shh," he coos. "Not done with you yet bunny."

He chuckles before kissing your nose, guiding himself back inside your pussy. You chuckle as you look at the mirror on the ceiling.

"You've always had a nice ass."

You tease, despite the breathlessness of your voice and Leon only cocks his head to the side in confusion before following your line of sight, remembering that there was a mirror atop the ceiling and he chuckles, a rush of desire running through his veins with the sight of tangled limbs.

"Yeah, so?" His tone full of sass as he smirks. "Jealous much?"

You laugh as he places his fingers under your jawline, bringing your face close before crashing his lips down yours in a sloppy kiss, before moving inside you again. His pace rougher and faster, cock slamming down your pussy like a freight train as you lock your legs around his waist tight, bringing him close before you bite down on his shoulder and Leon hisses a curse.

He peels your legs off of him first before hooking your legs above his shoulders. He growls, this position slips him in deeper, and you squeeze his cock tighter.

"Holy fucking shit!

He exclaims, it's no secret that you both are vocal in the bedroom. You both love verbally assuring each other that the pleasure is mutual, you were always the louder one, but this time it was Leon. Completely pussy whipped with every clench of your walls.

"Got me drunk on this tight fucking pussy."

He grunts and your hands reach out to grab his hips, slamming down on you rougher with every thrust. Your nails digging on the flesh of his waist and he moans. His jaw slacked, sweat dripping down.

"I'm gonna cum inside yeah? Gonna fill this tight pussy up for making me this rabid."

He laughs as his thrusts become erratic. He knows you're close, just like you know that he's close as well.

"Goddamn, got me addicted to pussy."

He moans and your toes curl as he slams into you one last time. His body tensing up, shooting ropes of his cum inside you as you both climax together.

"Yeah, bunny. So good for me. Creaming on this cock like a good girl."

He soothes you, kissing your forehead as you tremble beneath him in the intensity of your orgasm, he looks at you intently. Rubbing your body gently. Not pulling out yet as you gush around his cock.

"You're so pretty when you cum."

He hums. You both cuddle up for a minute to calm down before he pulls out.

Much to Leon's surprise, you whine.

"Lovey… don't pull out yet…"

Leon chuckles, pulling you into his arms to cradle your body.

"Yeah? Give me a minute. Have mercy on the lil guy."

You giggle softly, you were feeling fuzzy and the throbbing in your pussy suggests you were not fully sated yet, and with the way Leon looks at you like a hawk, he wants another too.

"There's nothing little about that."

You retort, giving his chest a little slip and he has a proud look on his face.

"Yeah? Maybe I'll compare it with those next time. Gonna use it on you."

He winks, pointing at the assortment of toys just neatly placed on the bedside table that went unnoticed in the heat of your lovemaking, as you both share a hearty laugh.

[frostbitebakery]

LOUD.

the mania is taking hold on us, sorry

“Okay,” Cody yields, “Kamino isn’t anything like this.”

Obi-Wan’s grin is blooming in the crinkles around his eyes and Cody is led away from the— the obstacle course that calls itself night market, Obi-Wan’s fingers warm where they’re wrapped around Cody’s hand.

Obi-Wan walks backwards, his free hand busy signing while he deftly avoids any of the, Cody guesstimates, trillion people out and about on a busy Coruscant night.

Cody can’t look away.

There are no harsh turns or stops. No almost crashes. It’s almost, almost eerie, that otherworldliness. Obi-Wan is not concerned with looking where he’s going, still backwards. No, he’s seemingly fully occupied with telling Cody about the time he first tried takolumi, a “boldly fascinating dish, culturally significant although they do not particularly care how you eat it as long as you know some form of self-defense”.

He leads them around the masses of people like a walk on the beach and Cody can’t stop looking away.

The takeaway bag is rather hefty at this point and Cody adjusts the paper straps digging into the creases of his fingers. There’s a healthy spot of grease growing dark on the bottom of the bag and yet it doesn’t rip. Somehow no one has yet bumped into him either which would probably rank higher in the miracle list than surviving an encounter with Grievous if Obi-Wan’s hand wouldn’t sprinkle in strange gestures now and then.

To Cody’s embarrassment it took him three flat palms and a sideways motion so seamlessly flowing with Obi-Wan’s silent voice to notice that the people, kids, bags, and carts about to encounter the durasteel wall that is a clone’s body didn’t make impact.

“Too much?”

The question catches him off guard. To Obi-Wan’s credit, he looks more curious than concerned, expecting and trusting Cody to speak up if anything makes him uncomfortable.

He quickly shakes his head. It’s… refreshing, to be honest. The brass and natborn personnel act and rule as if they can’t think for themselves, like they’re on the very base of AI. The public are torn between disdain, fascination, and pity, thinking they know what rights the clones truly deserve in their protests. In the darkest hours after a campaign Cody avoids the holo news like the plague, skin breaking out in hives at the hypocrisy of people wanting to heroically save the clones while wanting to settle them in the furthest, most unwanted parts of the Galaxy.

Cody is aware that their upbringing is anything but traditional, that it’s doused with instilling loyalty to the Republic and, relatedly, to the Jedi as their commanding officers. The real problem took root when they were finally introduced to the Jedi and got treated like people instead of soldiers.

Cody is glad to die for these people when his time comes. And he knows, watching Obi-Wan’s fingers and eyes speak shapes and stories, they do not hesitate to lay down their lives for them either.

He stops. Can’t not stop. Feet frozen to the ground as the realization truly hits its mark in him.

Surrounded by the center of the Galaxy, the mix of every people and culture in one place, the mundane life, shouts and laughter and yelling and music and more laughter, surrounded by Obi-Wan’s warmth, his stories, his… his everything standing for the Jedi…

They would die for each other without hesitation.

“Cody?”

He watches the people around them unconsciously giving them space, walking around them.

“One minute,” he signs back in battle sign, keeps staring at Obi-Wan who switches from growing concern to wide eyes to lowering his gaze sheepish and pleased and blushing.

Cody wants to save him and be saved by him. Wants to end the war just to know they’re both alive for another morning.

He tugs at Obi-Wan’s hand, pulls him closer like he is the one weaving a spell. He reaches up, swipes the hood from Obi-Wan’s head. Feels the soft strands of ginger hair curling around his fingers as he leans up.

Their foreheads gently touch, push together until it’s one warmth shared, one breath shared, and it’s more than the everything Cody hadn’t had known he could dream about before meeting the Jedi.

“I know,” is tapped against his bottom lip and Cody pushes that much closer into Obi-Wan’s space.

Obi-Wan leans back after a too short eternity, meeting Cody’s eyes without flinch or hesitation even if there’s a guardedness in them now he can’t hide fast enough from Cody’s training. “Come on. I want to show you how to best clog your arteries and I know just the place for that.”

“I’m not,” the words trip out of him before Obi-Wan can turn away from him. “I’m,” he doesn’t have the words to explain but he knows, instinctively, if he doesn’t say something now, Obi-Wan will pull away from him. Obi-Wan’s fingers still in Cody’s hand have already started slipping away like water and sand and air.

“Death, yet the Force,” Cody signs hurriedly, hands jerking after the movements he’s seen Obi-Wan do during his meditation.

Obi-Wan stills, expression neutral.

“I honor your Code,” he says. “I honor your voice,” he signs. Watches his own heart pound and Obi-Wan’s shoulders loosen. His hand is solid in Cody’s once more.

“Come on. I want to watch Dex fuss over you.”

[A few months later, a daring plan later with prices too high and yet. Obi-Wan will help Quinlan once he’s back on Coruscant. But for now he’s carried away by a rescue shuttle from an exploding Malvolence to hopefully be fetched out of space soon. Even if a satisfied like loth cat Cody is a sight to behold. All the confidence of a Commander knowing what he’s doing and reaping the victory.]

Cody is warm against his back when the Force cries out, lashes its despair into Obi-Wan’s mind like a whip.

The moment he startles awake from the light doze, Cody’s arms around him tighten into a vice.

“There you are,” Cody says, hisses like a satisfied snake and it’s his voice but not and Obi-Wan is too tired and exhausted after dealing with Grievous and wrapping the Malvolence like a gift for Mace and Cody, Cody, Cody—

“I am arresting you for treason against the Emperor,” Cody continues, empty and hollow now and what the kriffing stars is going on.

“Let go,” he taps against Cody’s thigh and is put on his front for the trouble, arms pulled behind his back roughly.

It clicks with the first handcuff that— Cody

Cody

Cody

Cody has betrayed him.

Before the second click, Obi-Wan bucks up, turns, and he’s got the length of the cuffs around Cody’s neck. Kicks into Cody’s knee and his weight into the make-shift garrote to put him to unconsciousness and buy Obi-Wan crucial time to think.

Mind churning, whirling, puzzling, how could Cody do this, who’s driving him to do this, how could Obi-Wan not see—

Cody falls back into him, grips Obi-Wan’s hand holding one cuff link, grips it hard, and hits against Obi-Wan’s other still cuffed arm.

The cuff’s chain breaks, so does Obi-Wan’s wrist, and playing nice is over.

It’s glimpses that follow, shimmering in the despair of Obi-Wan fighting for his life, for Cody’s life who’s fighting and moves against every self-sustaining instinct, not caring when Obi-Wan pleads with him, barely flinching when Obi-Wan dislocates his knee to get away.

Running up the hull of the rescue ship and he’s snatched out of the air by an arm around his waist, thrown down on his back and the air waves at him on the way out of his lungs.

Cody’s hand on the front of his coat, pulling him up up up and he’s hurled back into the floor with prejudice. Cody wants to exhaust his damaged airways and lungs, maybe break his back while he’s at it, and he’s doing an admittedly incredible job of it.

On the next pull up, Obi-Wan slings his legs around Cody’s arm, heels crossed over his shoulder, and with additional strength provided by the Force he throws Cody over his center point, lets him crash into the floor, hoping to afflict some kind of damage to the damned armor.

The armor.

It’s a beacon flaring in the dark. The realization, the knowledge that is being shoved away by the Darkness even as clarity fights to reunite with him.

The armor. The neural connector.

Where was it. Helmet or backplate? He can’t remember why can’t he remember—

He gets a boot to his shin, a kick to the face as he falls forward and his priorities realign.

He needs to immobilize Cody or at the very least bring them both to the same disadvantage so he can think in the Darkness launching itself at him from all sides.

[burr-ell]

cool vex'ahlia facts

general:

-regularly talks to and gathers information from relevant npcs

-is constantly on the lookout for traps or enemies whenever the party is traveling, and routinely guides them particularly when they're in her favored terrains

-regularly casts pass without a trace on the party to make stealth challenges trivial

-makes sure that the staff at greyskull keep are well-paid and frequently gives them bonuses and raises (to the point that even jarrett once told her that her generosity was respected but unnecessary)

specific:

-buys everyone winter clothes to keep them warm in vasselheim

-makes a shot to get them out of a trap in vasselheim with a roll of 35

-keeps the group grounded and balanced in whitestone, keeping them from going to either keyleth's noble or scanlan's violent extreme

-goes out of her way to research the raven queen to help vax feel better when she's the one who died

-comes up with the trench trap that takes out members of the goliath herd so the rest of the party can get into westruun

-releases grog from the raven's slumber necklace at just the right moment for him to deliver the killing blow against kevdak, saving all of their lives, and rolls a NAT TWENTY to intimidate the herd into bending the knee

-gives up 500 gold for a resurrection ritual for a child who was killed as collateral damage

-works out strategies with zanror for how to fight umbrasyl

-does almost 100 points of damage by herself on the first attack round against umbrasyl

-firmly says that most of umbrasyl’s hoard should go to the people of westruun and actively prevents grog and scanlan from taking more

-tells amelia about reginald's death and supports grog's gift of 400 gold to her

-comes up with a plan to get them across the gilded run to get to the shademurk bog

-gives pike and scanlan the broom so they won't get stuck in the boggy terrain

-leads negotiations with tooma and the other dragonborn to form an alliance against vorugal, and graciously apologizes when it turns out VM made a grievous and insulting mistake

-suggests pitting yenk the goristro against vorugal so they can more effectively take out a dragon and get a vestige in one fell swoop

-lands the killing blow on vorugal

-ensures that they don’t take too much from vorugal's hoard and asks tooma for permission first

-spends 15,000 gold to free two aasimar boys from slavery in the city of brass

-does almost 100 points of damage by herself in one round again, this time against thordak

-destroys thordak's soul gem, reducing his power significantly

-puts her mind and soul at risk to learn more information about opash and what raishan was trying to do on the island

-picks a lock in a goddess's library that was meant to be nearly impossible

-gives scanlan vital aid in his challenge with ioun

-indignantly stands up for scanlan against a dockmaster's prejudice

-persuades a man out of kowtowing to vecna

-comes up with a plan to get inside the earth titan's body even though she's scared half to death of what's to come

-lands the killing blow on anna ripley, delilah briarwood, and sylas briarwood, effectively completing the list that percy could not

-only worships gods with big dicks

i'll have to amend that one name, though, just to be fair. it's lady vex'ahlia, baroness of the first house of whitestone, grand mistress of the grey hunt, coinmistress of the council of tal'dorei, and leader of vox machina

[ellieslittleburrow]

Summary : You're fighting off a bunch of men when Reacher comes to help. But you don't need his help. What does he do about that?

Pairings : Jack reacher x Platonic!reader

Warnings : fighting men

A/N : what a good change, i love this strong female lead thiing. Also what do we think?? Do we like??? Should we do more Reacher? Enjoy 🌸 also wtf i've never written something this fast.

----

"Let's split." You shout, spinting after the long-legged man while Reacher goes after the other one.

Your feet follow as your eyes scan through the crowds, you can't let this one go, he needs to be int- He takes a right turn, and as you enter the same alley, you find him already jumping over the fence-Nothing difficult for you...You've done that many a times- and as your shoes stick to the wall, you push against your arms to lift yourself up and over the brick bloc, jumping down onto the next alley-

You notice his body dissapearing into the right, and as you ready yourself to start running again, a couple of men suddenly appear from both sides, sending you staggering backwards in surprise.

"Don't make this too hard on yourself, little lady."

You straighten yourself up-You can't seem scared- You're not scared. And as they confidently walk closer to you, you examine their figures, the way their arms fall at their thighs. Big men...Boohoo...Too confident they don't realize you just shoved your hand into your pocket to put your brass knuckle in. Play time, fuckers.

As the first guy reaches for you, you pull his hand and kick your foot into his stomach-giving yourself some time to launch at the next guy, who throws a punch your way-you dodge it, punching him from under the chin, he staggers back and before you get to attack him again, the other guy grabs you from behind, swiftly pulling you from the ground and into the air. You squirm, freeing your arm from his grip to swing it back violently, your elbow landing somewhere on his face-You don't know where but it's a good enough place because he let go of you.

"Little lady, huh?" You scoff, throwing a punch at his face before spinning around to twist the hand that just gripped your shoulder-they might be big, but they're not as trained as you and you take advantage of that by punching his face while his hand is still twisted. He groans as the knuckle kisses his skin. You spin around again, finally ready to finish one of them off. The first guy is standing back up, his body rocking back and forth, conveying a lack of balance. "I'm gonna enjoy-" You swing your foot upward, landing it right under his testicules and as soon as he bends down in pain, you take ahold of his head, kicking your knee right into his face-

A crack sounds behind you, causing you to tuck and to spin around-Reacher.

Your eyes meet and Reacher lets go of the man's body, letting the cadaver hit the ground. You stare at him, unsure of your own emotions. Only then does the realisation hit you that the man you needed to catch escaped!!!

"Did you catch him????" You ask and your face reddens as anger courses through you. He did the fuck not.

"No" Reacher coldly says, only heightening your anger even furthur.

You close the distance between you two, lifting your chin up to look at him.

"Why would you fucking do that, Reacher? We've been running after this guy for a month-What the hell is wrong with you?" You yell. But that doesn't do much to him, so you push against his chest. "I'm talking to you-fucking answer me." You demand, your face leaning in every direction his goes. He's avoiding your eyes and you hate that. "HEY!"

"I COULDN'T LEAVE YOU HERE ALONE." He yells back and you startle, taking a discreet step back.

"I don't need your help, Reacher." You only lower your voice a tiny bit. "I can take care of my own god damn self."

You look back when breathing sounds behind you, snapping you out of the fight. "Oh yeah, him." The guy you knocked out starts waking up. You walk over to him, dropping to your knees to plant your knuckle into his face, knocking him out a second time.

"I don't need your help."

"It's not-it's in my instincts. I can't help it."

You scuff. "As flattering as that sounds, Reacher, my case is drowned. It's fucked. So please do me the favor of keeping your mouth shut-you're not the strongest guy in the world, i did not need you."

"Yeah! And you're not in a competition, relax."

You'd gasp at his response if you could-but you didn't want to puff his chest up for him. Ouch...You ignore the sting in your heart, brushing past him to walk back home.

What a guy...

----

Hello again ❤️❤️❤️🥀🥀🥀 i hope you enjoyed this 🌸 i'll see ya next time!

[muddyorbsblr]

feels like mine pt1

See my full list of works here!

Summary: You wake up in a bed that isn't your own, living a life that seems to be pulled straight out of your wildest dreams

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: 18+ | mentions of death; slight gaslighting (?) [let me know if I missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: everything is not what it seems; twist at the end

Your eyes squinted to adjust to the brightness of your bedroom awash with the morning sun. Looks like Mother Nature chose to be a little too chipper this morning and tried to blind you with its rays shining straight into your room.

You rose from your bed, your hands flopping on to the ultra soft comforter that sunk beneath the pressure.

Weird, you thought to yourself. I don't remember checking in to a hotel, and God knows my bed isn't this soft. You slowly sat up, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes and alarm bells immediately ringing loud in your head when you looked down at the pristine white sheets.

"This isn't my bed," you said aloud, hopping down from the mattress and assessing your body, ensuring that you were free to move and your limbs weren't tied down in some capacity keeping you captive in what would have been a bizarrely cozy looking prison. You assessed your clothes next; mainly to see if you were even wearing any, your brows shooting to your hairline when your hands touched a lush satiny fabric covering your curves. "These aren't my clothes."

You rushed over to a mirror situated on a door that you assumed was a closet, your confusion growing by the second when you saw that the reflection looking back at you was…yourself. Exactly as you were last night before you went to bed, only clad in a navy blue nightie that looked like it cost over a week's pay. And wearing a ring that probably cost your soul.

The items on the nightstand by the side of the bed you'd woken up on raised even more questions. A black leather-bound journal with a gold 'H' pressed on the spine, a fountain pen, a laptop, a tablet, and a Kindle Oasis. An almost exact match to the items on the nightstand that you knew by heart, but each item was a more luxurious variant. For one, you wouldn't in your right mind ever buy yourself a Kindle Oasis. Or an S.T. Duponte fountain pen.

On the opposite nightstand were a stack of papers bound together with brass fasteners and a pair of reading glasses with a grade that moderately blurred your vision when you held it close to your eyes. You decided against looking at the contents of the book-bound papers in case there was anything confidential you weren't meant to glimpse in its contents.

You checked on the door next, seeing if it was locked from the outside. It wasn't.

You stepped out of the bedroom, assessing your surroundings to find any semblance of information that would tell you where you were and why you were here, only to grumble out of sheer frustration, "This isn't my apartment." To start with, apartments didn't have stairs. And your place didn't have nearly this much windows.

"Did I…shift?" Your voice softly echoed off the walls, staring in disbelief at the framed picture before you. Your hair and makeup impeccably done, a flower tiara delicately put in place at the top of your head, clad in a downright whimsical wedding dress and smiling brilliantly at the groom whose back was turned to the camera, your only hint at who he was being broad shoulders and brown slightly curly hair.

The unmistakable sound of vegetables being cut led you down the stairs and into the kitchen, desperately hoping it would lead you to who your mystery husband was and maybe start making some sense of this downright crazy predicament.

But catching a glimpse of the well over 6-foot lean frame dressed a white button-down shirt tucked into black dress pants that put a way too familiar butt on proud display had you itching to wake up because this was most definitely a concerningly vivid dream.

That is definitely not my husband.

No way on God's green Earth were you married to Tom Hiddleston. This just went from bizarre to downright impossible.

"Good morning, sweetheart," he greeted you in that low timbre that had your knees buckling, setting aside his task at hand and removing his apron before walking over to you.

"Hi…" you answered him, voice wavering. Before you could speak another word, he framed your face in his hands, thumbs softly running across your cheekbones, and then pressing a delicate kiss to your lips. "What're you--"

"We finished filming early," he answered, words murmured against your lips. "I caught an earlier flight so I could see you sooner. Oh I've missed you so much." He pressed his lips to yours again. "My darling wife."

Okay, I definitely shifted. This body you may have woken up in had your face, and probably your maiden name…but this wasn't your life. You were occupying space meant for someone else. Another Y/N.

"Tom, I think I have to--"

"Whatever it is can wait." He kissed you again, this time he pressed against you a little harder, your heart beating wildly in your chest when you felt a light, tentative lick to your bottom lip. "Just let me hold you a little while longer." He wrapped his arm around the small of your back, cradling your head with his other hand as he buried his face into the crook of your neck, sighing in contentment.

You knew you were seconds away from abandoning all your plans to try and get him to listen when he started pressing numerous open-mouthed kisses along your neck, your whole body growing weak when he started nipping and licking at the skin. "Please it's important. I don't think I'm supposed to be--"

The feel of him groaning into your skin made your knees give out, making him hold you tighter against him. He walked you backwards until your back pressed against the wall, your breathing labored as he kissed along the expanse of skin exposed to him by your negligee.

When his kisses started traveling south and he pressed his lips to the swell of your breast, you knew you had to get your words out before you gave in and let him have his way with you, however far that may be. "I'm not supposed to be here," you blurted out, pressing your palms to his shoulders and inwardly cursing at yourself for making him stop. "I know that I might sound like I'm not making any sense but…I think I shifted realities…? It's bizarre to me because I never actually succeeded until now but the point is--"

"Sweetheart, slow down." He began to rub his hands up and down your arms, calming you down some within seconds and once again making you question this reality. And how he knew what to do when you began to ramble and spiral in your own thoughts. "You say you're not supposed to be here. Where do you think you should be? Tell me what you know and perhaps I can help from there."

"My name is Y/N Y/L/N, and I'm a software engineer in the middle of a career shift. Last night I went to sleep in a one bedroom apartment in Anaheim. I was no one to you. At most a faceless name that sings your praises online. Definitely not…" You waved your hand in a sweeping gesture across your surroundings. "This," you finished, your breath hitching in the back of your throat when you caught sight of his expression, eyes shining with tears that were seconds away from falling down his cheeks.

"What a bleak life," he breathed out, pressing his lips to your forehead as he pulled you into an embrace. "I can't imagine having to live in a world where I didn't know you. Didn't love you." He kissed your temple. "Thank God it was just a dream."

"A dr--A dream?" you sputtered, confusion overcoming your thoughts. Surely it wasn't that simple. That easily explained. You could remember in vivid detail the code you worked on last night, the bumpy bus ride on the way back to your apartment. The last story you read written by your friends online before you finally laid your head on your pillow and succumbed to an exhausted slumber.

Something about Tom's character on The Hollow Crown and barn sex before he was to face off against the Dauphin of France.

"Yes, my love. Nothing but an awful vivid dream," he reassured you, soothing you with the low velvety tone of his voice, partnered with the kisses he was softly peppering all over your face before stopping at the corner of your mouth. "Your name is Y/N Hiddleston. We've been together for five years, and you gave me the unique honor of becoming your husband less than a year ago. You were a software engineer amidst a career change when I met you all those years ago, and you've come so far since then. You have amazed me at every turn, and it's been a privilege to witness all that you've done. And all that you will continue to do." He captured your lips in a tender kiss, making you melt into his arms as you crossed your hands behind his neck, allowing him to pull you closer. "You just need a few minutes to readjust after waking up. Everything will come back to you soon enough. And any details that don't return to you I'll happily fill those blanks in."

It was almost like the protests that remained in your mind got muffled at his assurances. He spoke about you with such conviction and fondness and love that it made it sound beyond reproach. All that remained was the faintest murmur of doubt that you quickly recognized as those few hours of disbelief you would go through after waking up from a particularly vivid dream, much like those ones you had back in college where you mourned the loss of your best friend and you internally panicked for hours until he walked into the classroom looking every bit as alive as he had the day before.

"Just a dream…" You tested the words on your tongue, the explanation steadily becoming more and more palatable than your initial theory of successfully shifting. Your eyes met Tom's again. "Sorry I…kinda freaked out back there--"

He pressed a delicate kiss to your lips to stop you. "There's no need for apologies, sweetheart. You were disoriented, and I'm grateful you confided in me that you were instead of holding it all in." He brushed the tip of his nose against yours, the gesture bringing a smile to your face and causing a small giggle to escape your lips. "How about you head back upstairs and get ready for the day, and I'll finish whipping up breakfast?"

"That…sounds like a good idea," you agreed, unable to keep the smile off your face even as he kissed you again. "I'll go take a shower and then…I'll be back down here in twenty minutes?"

Tom loosened his hold on you, hands smoothing down your sides before he took a step back so you could make your way up the stairs. Before you passed him, he took your hand in his to call your attention again, bringing it up to his lips to press a kiss to each of your knuckles. "I love you," he whispered against your skin.

"I love you, too," you said back, biting your lip as you gave him a smile before heading back up the stairs, your doubts calmed and your panic from earlier subsiding, allowing you to simply look around the house and appreciate the beauty and joy that your life granted you in stark contrast to last night's dream.

Just as you stepped on to the top landing of the stairs, a flash of green glinted at the corner of Tom's eye, diverting his attention to the visitor in the kitchen.

"She is a perceptive one, your mortal," Loki mused, staring down at the ingredients on the cutting board. "A part of her recognizes that she is no longer within her universe. That part could linger…fester, even. Are you truly certain you wish to continue down this path? To risk her finding out the truth and resenting you from stealing her away from her life--"

"What's the alternative, then?" Tom snapped, gripping the countertop so hard his knuckles were going white, hot tears finally falling from his eyes. "Go on the rest of my days without my wife? Let her go back to a world where she said it herself, she's no one to me?"

Loki let out a sigh, taking a few steps towards the door to the patio, the tension and frustration evident in his stance. "She did not deserve the life she was designed for, on that I do agree. But it will take time for her to fully acclimate to this new universe, if you truly wish to keep her here. And you must accept that no matter what you do, she may never fully fill the space that your late wife left behind."

Tom's eyes burned with more tears, indignation and grief making his heart ache even worse at the memory of you -- that is, the you that he lost not even three days ago. "I know that," he said through gritted teeth. "What of the people who heard news of her passing? The people on set who saw me when I got the call? They're going to ask her questions when they see her alive and well. Questions she won't be able to answer."

The god simply waved a hand dismissively. "Simple memory spell. Their recollection of events will simply be altered wherein they recall you receiving a call and you needed to leave and halt production to ensure her safety, not see to her funeral. Her record at the hospital has been expunged. Any and all evidence that suggests that the Y/N Hiddleston of his universe is no longer with us has ceased to exist."

"Thank you," he choked out, walking up to the god and extending a hand.

"Of course. You deserved not the life you'd planned with your wife taken so violently." Loki took your husband's hand in a firm shake. "Now, I know it may not be my place to tell you what you should be doing at this moment. But from where I stand, you have just been reunited with your wife. If you're open to suggestions, I would recommend putting the apron down, going upstairs, and simply enjoying the life that has been returned to you. Breakfast can wait."

With those words, Loki disappeared in a flash of green right as Tom turned around and headed up the stairs in your direction, heeding the god's advice.

A/N: Something tells me that when I told y'all there's a Centrum Ad Hiddles story coming your way, y'all probably didn't expect this…and to be honest I didn't think I was even gonna make a Centrum Ad Hiddles story, let alone one that took this direction. 😳👀 I hope you like it though, slightly dark twist and all 😅💖

‘everything’ taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @unlucky-number-13 @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @evelyn-kingsley @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th @lovelysizzlingbluebird @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @lokidokieokie @superficialdomina @anukulee @kmc1989

Hiddles taglist: @spooky1980

[leadfreebrass]

Why Choose Lead Free Brass Fittings for Plumbing Industry?

A lead free brass is a toxic metal that can leach from brass plumbing components into drinking water, causing adverse health effects. That is why is important to choose lead free brass fittings for both public water systems and residential plumbing.

[tumbleweed-run]

A Perfect Date With Gale

@arachnethebard perhaps not what you intended but this is what happened

Since you got to Waterdeep with Gale he's been insistent that the two of you go on a 'perfect' first day... despite the fact that the two of you are already engaged.

Perfection is such a difficult thing to achieve.

1600 words because I'm physically incapable of brevity.

PG (for once)

Gale has been talking about giving you a “proper first date” for entire month you two have been in Waterdeep. Never mind the fact that you two are engaged. He’s been focusing on it near daily. Every time he brings it up you smile and nod. It’s not that you wouldn’t enjoy a nice night out exploring the city, but it’s not about that. 

“Tomorrow night,” he announces one night as he enters the study.  You’re petting Tara, tactfully ignoring a light smear of blood around her mouth… the tower is always miraculously free of rodents. 

You find new clothes draped over a bench in the bedroom the following afternoon. You admire them for a moment, almost hesitant to touch them. They’re finer than anything you’ve worn in years, possibly ever. But despite your mild apprehension over the likelihood of destroying them before you step foot out of the tower, you don them. Gale did go through the trouble, and expense, procuring them for you. 

Gale greets you outside the room, looking as though he’s been waiting the entire time you’ve been inside. You chuckle to yourself at the thought, given that it was once just his room. 

He’s wearing almost traditional wizard’s robes but these are new, a deep maroon with gold accents. He’s begun to stray from the purple he wore almost exclusively when you first met him. There might be something deeper behind that if you dared to think about it for a moment. You know there’s some meaning behind the gold and emerald earring he has in. Your hand instinctively goes to it’s other half, resting around your neck.

“Shall we?” He offers you his arm, eyes sweeping over your form. His smile tells you he’s pleased with the way you look in what he’s selected. 

You spend much of the walk taking in the city at dusk. Waterdeep is so different from Baldur’s Gate, and yet so very similar. Gale happily talks for the both of you. 

The building you stopped in front of was beautiful to say the least, all the street facing windows were stained glass in the shape of the city’s crest. The two large heavy doors were opened and a rather bored looking man in fine clothes stood just inside them. The braziers over the steps was brightly polished brass throwing the light far into the road as if beckoning people in. 

You were busy, once again, marvelling at the building you at first missed Gale’s eyebrows knitting together. He was speaking to the man in the door way, both in hushed tones. The man seemed simply uninterested in whatever Gale was telling him. 

“Now I’m positive I’ve reserved a table,” Gale’s voice had pitched upwards giving away his apparent distress. “I came down myself a tenday ago and booked it.”

You saw a light go on in the bored man’s eyes. “Ah,” he said nodding, “I see the error. The table you booked is for next year. All our bookings are.”

Gale’s mouth simply hands open, a light red brushing just above his beard on his cheeks. 

“Gale,” you say softly, hand going to his arm, “It’s fine we’ll find something else for tonight and come back… next year.”

You resolutely, do not laugh.

Gale, still flabbergasted into silence, looks between you and the other man. For a moment he looks like he wants to argue with one of you but wisely, wisely, nods to you instead. You lead this time as you turn away from the lovely building.

Gale seems over his shock sometime later and sighs heavily. “It’s unlikely we’ll find something worthy of our first date tonight.”

He sounds so put down your heart breaks for a moment. You don’t give into the feeling and instead hook your arm through his. “Whatever we find will be perfect,” you assure him.

He offers you a small, but doubtful smile. 

You two wander, arm in arm, in the cool evening air. Gale doesn’t really seem to be looking for a new option but you are. And it appears down a dirt-packed road, you grasp his arm and point. 

Gale sputters again, “The Yawning Portal?” 

He seems incredulous that you would even suggest it. 

“Well they’re not likely to turn us away,” you risk a tease, “and besides you’ve spoken if it dozens of times. Let’s go!”

Gale relents almost immediately when you turn to him with pleading eyes, and as soon as he does you nearly drag him down the road. You laugh, out loud this time, when Gale shuffles his coin purse further beneath his robes. 

The proprietor barely spares you an eye roll as you two enter in your finery, he’s too busy to care. You run directly up to the dry well first and peer down, you can’t see anything but darkness. Gale gently redirects you to a table in the corner with an exasperated smile. Once he deems you safely secured into a relatively unoccupied corner he disappears towards the bar. Immediately you love this tavern with its rowdy clientele and atmosphere similar to many you had frequented in Baldur’s Gate. 

Gale returns with two mugs full of ale. “Food will be out in a moment,” he assures you, near shouting to be heard over the noise. 

You beam at him and reluctantly, he grins widely back.

One thing for Waterdeep is even in it’s most questionable of places the food is mouthwatering, a testament to Waterdeep’s reputation for the finest food on the coast. The two of you huddle together to hear each other without yelling as you eat. Gale surreptitiously points out some of the notable patrons that are there tonight. He lets you watch in rapt interest as a few bold adventurers lower themselves into the dry well, making for the Undermountain. Only once they disappeared did he launch into an explanation of the dungeon they were entering. 

Seemingly too soon the food is gone and your mugs empty. You don’t want the evening out to end just yet, you realize you miss your own little adventure (perhaps not the constant near-death aspect) and this place helps easy some of the sadness. Besides, as Gale’s mugs drained he leaned closer to you, words breathed against your ear and neck as he filled you in on everything he knew. 

You offer to get another round, immediately missing the warmth of his body pressed to yours as you stand. 

As you return you spot him watching you. The look on his face is openly dreamy, even when he realizes your watching him. 

The widening of his eyes is the only warning you receive before you trip into a rather stout dwarf you had somehow missed in your path. Your stumble sends the ale spilling down your front and most unfortunately directly over the dwarf’s head. 

In an instant he’s got both hands wrapped around your arms, the mugs falling to the floor. “Now, what in the hell is wrong with you,” he snarls yanking you forward nearly bending you in half so you’re closer to his level. 

You haven’t even fully registered what’s happened when just as quickly as he’d grabbed you, the dwarf is gone. 

Not gone, you realize. Instead, he’s now pinned against a table by Gale. He’s got one hand on the dwarf’s collar holding him and in the other he has a small spark of flame dancing in his palm. His face is dark, both literally and figuratively. Hair loosed by his sudden movements, falling forward and shielding his eyes from you.

This…

is new.

“... made a mistake, no need to get rough,” Gale is speaking and you suddenly realize the room’s gone quiet enough that you can hear him perfectly well despite the distance between you. 

In opposition to what he’s saying, the flame grows against his palm. 

The smell of beer hits you first, your front completely soaked in it. Then the realization that the dwarf is similarly covered sinks in. Gale is more likely to accidentally set the man ablaze than he is to diffuse the situation. 

That is what he’s trying to do, you hope. 

“Gale,” you speak just above a whisper, hand coming to rest on his back gently. 

You don’t want to cause the flame to catch. 

“It’s alright,” You assure him, hand rubbing in a soothing pattern, “We’re alright. Right?” The last is aimed at the dwarf who is glancing nervously between the flame and you now.

“Yeah,” He nods almost imperceptibly, “no harm done.”

Whatever had come over him abruptly left Gale, in one movement he both released the dwarf and extinguished the flame. 

“Well then,” you nod with an over-enthusiastic smile, “a round for everyone!” The coin pouch you hold up is Gale’s. 

Everyone is instantly merry, the volume once again rising so you can no longer hear those around you. 

“That’s not how I wanted our first date to go,” Gale says much later in the evening as you two are in the bath. 

You’re seated between his legs, leaning back against his chest, hand lazily drawing patterns on his knee in the water. Your ruined clothes are discarded on the floor somewhere near. The scent of rosewater is diluted only slightly by the smell of a tavern 

The laughter that bursts out of you is unexpected but after a beat even Gale joins in, head dipping back against the edge as he does. 

“It was perfect,” you insist turning your head to look at him.

Both of his eyebrows go up. “For us,” you amend. You twist just far enough to press a kiss to his lips. 

He hums against your mouth. “You still smell like you bathed in ale,” he teases, nose wrinkling.

[hellishfig]

just finished listening to episode 34 of worlds beyond number, "something to remember you by," which is the end of arc 3 of the wizard, the witch, and the wild one, and i feel sick from how incredible it was. the physical reactions my body made to some of the words and music in this podcast really took me by surprise. i'm still reeling.

some thoughts:

i'm so happy that suvi is questioning the citadel, her reaction to silver's letter was inspired, and i LOVED her interactions with the quartermaster. she's so clever and intimidating (holy shit that was HOT), but i'm worried about what's happening to silver. i have an inkling that the witches may have already started making moves alongside the man in black, and i wonder how that will affect suvi going forward. and going to try and save silver before returning their "precious cargo" to the citadel... i hope suvi can keep questioning, and that whatever she faces, she doesn't let the justification machine run its course any longer.

eursulon meeting up with tefmet was really cool. i enjoyed the return of the strongest man in silbury immensely. it was extremely funny. and then, when eursulon asked to help and succeeded on his persuasion checks, it was solemnly touching. i love eursulon's power being in steadfast support and protection, and how to him, it's not about opposing the citadel in its entirety, it's about saving spirits, great and small, from those who would use them. and that's something he can do while still protecting his true friends.

ame let the chaos OUT this episode, and it was delightful and nerve wracking and thrilling to listen to. she's very bossy and it's so funny to hear how immediately eursulon goes along with it, despite not knowing what "it" is. growing up watching grandma wren, she seems to have gained a natural authority that makes people who love her listen to her when she asks them to perform innocuous menial tasks. but that's also interesting, because her chaos is focused, if imprecise. she knows what she needs to do and will do it, damn the consequences. as long as she can get away, who cares what she leaves in her wake? that's a problem for future ame.

they stole some brass knockers and a lion! they kidnapped nif to save her from being killed by indri! tof burned bright to free a vrock! suvi heads to war, eursulon and ame TO TOMA! (i almost cried when eursulon said those words and the music swelled. what the fuck, lou. what the FUCK taylor and jared. i'm not okay!!!)

and then of course, brockvale. holly hill. the resting place of sir curran of the hawthorn, who unknowingly sent eursulon on a quest that would lead him to our story. the man in black, the pilgrim under stars, the king of knight, the stranger, holds sir curran's shield. he comes to make an offer. will this poor old guard bid a weary traveler to step over this threshold?

this is why worlds beyond number feels so different to me from other dnd shows and podcasts. these artists have come together with the shared goal of not just playing a fun game that they all enjoy, but with the express aim of crafting a brilliant story. i love a goofy campaign full of shenanigans as much as the next person, but i adore how every choice in this show is given weight and meaning. there are no decisions made for laughs. it doesn't feel like playing a game. it feels like living in the story.

and there are also moments like the ending of this episode. a snapshot of elsewhere in the world, something the players don't know, but the audience gets to. it fills out the edges of the story and provides a richer tapestry of lore and reasoning behind the machinations of those who oppose our heroes. it gives life to the tale.

my heart is beating so fast. this show is incredible. thank you, @worldsbeyondpod , for the world you're creating.

[nenyabusiness]

"Last Temptation"

After episode 4 and the possible flash-forward, I just need to talk about this soundtrack. We haven't heard it in the show yet, and I'm pretty sure we're going to have to wait until the season finale. Bear McCreary is a master at combining leitmotifs to musically represent a scene, and I truly believe that this is the track that will play during the inevitable confrontation between Sauron and Galadriel.

Spoilers ahead for potential predictions, because I'm breaking this fucker down.

We start out with a soft soprano humming the melody of "Where The Shadows Lie". For those who don't remember the full version from the first season, it's the one with lyrics:

Three rings for the Elven kings under the sky Seven for the dwarf lords in their halls of stone Nine for mortal men doomed to die One for the dark lord on his dark throne In the land of Mordor where the shadows lie One ring to rule them all, one ring to find them One ring to bring them all, and in the darkness bind them In the land of Mordor where the shadows lie

So far, we've already heard this melody quite a bit, since it's often played when something sinister and ring-related is going on. It also plays with a full symphonic orchestra during the Annatar reveal in he soundtrack called "Emissary at the Forge", which I'd personally say is actually Annatar's theme. I could go on a rant with that one to, but to put it briefly: We've got "Sauron" and "Where The Shadows Lie" played on Elven-coded instruments. Does it get more Annatar than that?

Okay. So. The scene opens with dark ring shenanigans and/or Annatar. It's dark. It has tension. It's the eerie calm before the storm.

At 0:40, the mood changes. We get strings, followed by male choir and sharp brass, leading us straight into Sauron's theme. It's not as chaotic as "Sauron" from season 1. We have a steady 4/4 rhythm compared to the whatever the hell is going on in the original theme. The core melody and the ostinato on the strings are unmistakable though. We're dealing with Sauron.

1:05 is where things start to escalate. We move between sharp female vocals and softer orchestral interludes that almost seem to fight each other, leading up to the magnificent 1:36. Galadriel's leitmotif on brass, with a note lowered just a half step to give it dissonance. If "Emissary At The Forge" is Elven-coded "Sauron", then this is Sauron-coded "Galadriel". It's not ethereal. It's not harmonic. It's intense, and I can't wait to see what Galadriel is actually doing here during this part. Fighting, most likely. Viciously.

After a brief breather, we reach 1:59 where Sauron's leitmotif returns, sung by a single soprano. No string ostinato. Just the main melody, performed with the same eerie vibe as "Where The Shadows Lie" in the intro. The orchestra builds, losing some dissonance as more instrument joins... and then we're suddenly back in a much more triumphant version of Galadriel's theme at 2:25. Something has shifted here. The dynamics are different. Maybe she's getting the upper hand? But here comes the kicker, Sauron's ace up his sleeve: Halbrand's theme.

A soft whisper of a dulcimer breaks free from the symphonic orchestra at 2:30, followed by a Nordic nyckelharpa at 2:35. There are hints of Halbrand's theme in other season 2 tracks too, but not like this. We're not just dealing with elements of Halbrand's theme here. This is Halbrand's theme, with the original instrumentalization. In episode 4, we catch a glimpse of Sauron in a flickering montage of images, looking almost exactly like he did during the battle in the Southlands. I strongly suspect that when we get to that scene, it's going to be backed up by this exact part of the soundtrack. It lasts for almost half a minute. The battle has been put on pause. Has Galadriel's feelings for the man she thought she knew caught up with her? Something emotional is happening here. Something that involves their time together, back when they were still allies.

At 2:56, the battle is on again. The sharp female choir is back, sounding even more erratic. More urgent. Galadriel's leitmotif returns, now with the right note but at doubled speed. She's retaliating.

The next major point happens at 3:47, where things suddenly go quiet. We shift into Sauron's leitmotif on soprano again, which transitions into Galadriel's, and then back to Sauron's. It's really, really smooth, and I can only applaud Bear for the execution. The themes should be incompatible, but nope, he makes it work.

At 4:53, something really interesting happens. Both "Sauron" and "Galadriel" have string ostinatos. Ostinatos are short, reoccurring melodies, and Bear often use them to back up the "main" motifs. At this time stamp, we're hearing a new ostinato that sounds an awful lot like Sauron's and Galadriel's combined. It's not as dissonant as Sauron's, but it's not as clean as Galadriel's either. I can still hear both in it, though. We're no longer just shifting back and forth between the soundtracks - they've actually merged. I have no clue what that means but I can't wait to find out. Is this her "Last Temptation"? Did he give her the same proposal again? Is she tempted?

The music builds again. At 5:27, we hear a short, explosive burst of Galadriel's theme on brass baked into an epic soundscape. Whatever it was that just happened, she's snapped out of it. She faced her temptation and turned it down. We hear the direct result of this at 5:39, where we get Sauron's theme sounding a lot more like the one from season 1 again. No more soft soprano. We're back to male choir. (I think it's worth mentioning that traditionally, male choir more evil-coded than female, so that's neat.)

If there was ever any doubt whether or not she resisted the temptation, we get a confirmation at 6:03. Galadriel's theme on harp, backed up by a soft female choir. She chose the light. Again.

The final half minute is orchestral, but the battle is over. There's peace. A touch of triumph, a touch of melancholy, but there's definitely peace.

Okay. I think I'm done. Bear is a genius so I'm sure there are even more easter eggs in there, but these are the ones I caught.

EDIT: During that final half minute, we actually get a bit of Elrond's theme. Is he the one who interrupts the altercation? Is that how the fight comes to an end? I'm really interested in seeing how that plays out. TLDR: Bear created a Sauron/Galadriel/Halbrand medley and I'm in awe.

[miasmaghoul]

Oh :(

Oh Miasma why would you do this to me why would you make me sad about Omega like this........

But also.

Poof. Omega's just gone. Do you think it breaks Aether's heart to lose his mentor? Or do you think some part of him is happy for him because maybe, if the unholy father wills it, Omega might find Terzo again in another life?

Do you think Dew feels like his worlds been turned on its head? Relies even more heavily on Aether for a sense of stability without Omega there?

Sorry you've activated the sad Omega brainworms and I am in shambles

-Void

(Follow up to this ask)

I almost exclusively have sad thoughts about Omega, it's a curse 😔

Sad terzomega and dewther brainworm food below, but maybe with a little hope swirled in for flavor. Eat up 💜

I think he withdraws once Terzo goes missing, and with all the fallout after the fact...no one really notices. Except for Aether and Dew - they're at his door every day, always trying to offer what they can. Anything Omega needs, they'll make happen.

Omega needs Terzo. No one can help him with that.

I think they both feel it when he vanishes. Aether via the connection he has to all his pack members, and Dew senses it thanks to a chill he's never felt before. Like something's been chipped off inside him, something small but crucial. They wake up together one rainy morning, a week after the Cardinal was named leader, and just know everything feels...off. They dress together in silence, and walk just as quietly to Omega's chamber in the lower ghoul wing. Aether's hands won't stop shaking when he goes to open the door, but Dew does him the courtesy of not mentioning it.

Inside, on the perfectly made bed, they find the photo of Copia, a worn silver mask - and a pair of golden rings.

They hold each other for a while after that. Aether pins Dew to his chest and Dew clings to his shirt. No words, just contact. Reassurance that they both need so, so badly in the moment.

Then, knelt at Omega's bedside, they pray.

Aether prays he's found peace. That he's free of the stress and misery of being without the one person he'd found a true connection with. (If he peeks at Dew from the corner of his eye, he can't be blamed.) He prays that now Omega can rest, and that Secondo was right when he drunkenly told them all that the family Emeritus has it good in Hell. He prays that Terzo has been down there waiting, and that Omega can spend the rest of forever as happy as he deserves to be.

Dew cusses him out, brow furrowed in frustration as every bit of ghoulish profanity he can remember rolls through his mind. He sighs to himself once the wave of reactionary anger recedes, setting his elbows on the mattress and bowing his head - and all he can think to say is thank you. It's not enough, certainly. Nowhere near as complex as a goodbye should be, especially not to someone as important to him as Omega had been, but it's all he's got. In the end, he supposes that's fitting. Omega was never a ghoul of many words. He preferred keeping things direct - it was one of the things that Dew admired most about him. So maybe thank you is enough. For now, it has to be.

Aether's the first to stand, but Dew follows quickly. The join hands without so much as looking at one another, Dew leading the way to the door with purposeful strides. Aether grabs the old brass key from the dish on Omega's desk, and he pauses with one hand on the door handle. Takes one last look at the mask, the rings, and with one deep breath he commits every detail to memory.

Dew does not look back until he hears the lock tumble, and hold his hand out expectantly. Aether drops the key in his palm, and hand in hand the walk to the lake. It's still drizzling out, enough that their uniforms have gone damp by the time they reach the creaky old dock. Dew holds out his hand, and they stare at the key for a long moment. The little ghoul sighs, and Aether looks up to find Dew watching him with resolute eyes still watery along the edges.

"We gotta make him proud."

Dew says it so softly that Aether almost misses it, his mouth set in a firm line, and the fiercest sort of affection rips through his chest. He nods, biting the inside of his cheek.

"We will."

Dew throws the key towards the center of the gently rippling water, and they both turn away before they can see it sink.