#this can either be before his non-canon death

[tyran-the-tyranical]

I’m currently writing a fic and writing for Raphael is a little infuriating if I’m being honest.

Mostly because he has such a way about him, and unlike the other characters where there’s some room for deviation, he’s quite rigid in his mannerisms. So I’ve literally been scraping through his dialogue and analysing his behaviour, and this is what I’ve ‘boggled’ it down to.

It’s obvious that Raphael, with all his charms and suave behaviour, clearly has a darkness or ulterior notice beneath it all. He constantly gives out subtle (and sometimes not so subtle) threats to our protagonists, reminding them of becoming an illithid, all in the pursuit of pressuring them to make a deal ofc.

“Come now, why playing hard to get when you're in deep over your tadpole head all those pretty little symptoms sundering skin dissolving guts they haven't manifested yet have they?"

I also think it’s funny because at the same time he also tries to portray himself as a saviour while he’s also just threatening us (it’s not a direct threat, ofc, he keeps it subtle mostly) and at times he just ends up being so contradictory.

[I forgot the quote but it’s when he says ‘he strides among the needy giving comfort where he can, also he literally calls himself a saviour too’]

Another thing, he’s so goddamn performative, and I mean to the extent that he sometimes borders on narrator territory. He has his little monologues as he talks about us as though we’re characters in a story and he’s just recounting our actions to some unseen audience.

[His speech before the Yurgir encounter is a good example of this]

"The Shadows grow long and the hour is late" - also wherever this quote is from works well too

Additionally, he’s just condescending/patronising. I think even in one of his dialogues, the devs noted he should come across that way. This also goes along with his more not so subtle threats, and also goes into his performative persona, he constantly wants to portray this cool and confident personality, that he’s accounted for every possible outcome (and in a lot of ways he has) and that even if he doesn’t get what he wants, it doesn’t faze him, and in fact he’ll try make it seem like either way it benefits him, and sure in some ways it might, but I do believe he’s just saying that to mask his failure to achieve his goal. (Also, he’s generally just snobbish at times, or at least comes across as such)

This goes into a main trait of his too, that being his constant longing to be seen as something a kin to a True or Full Devil (or arch devil). Since he is a cambion he is restricted a lot by his mortal half. He is held back by his human needs like sleep and presumably food too. I think he tries to cover for this through excess, as if you go to the HoH in act 3, you can see the food on the table is just filled to the brim of rotten food, basically all of it wasted. Also there are loads of scattered areas that have fruit or wine throughout his house. I believe he does this on purpose to try come across as though food is nothing but a pleasurable activity he indulges in now and again rather than a necessity.

At every opportunity he possibly can, he attempts to convey this facade of being omnipotent and powerful, as close as he can to an arch devil, as that’s what he strives to become, and to be seen as. And tbh he does it really well. At times he even comes across as this unbeatable force, that we can’t ever truly defeat. What I mean by that is, even though we can literally basically kill him, if we look in his logbook of previous visitors, it hints at him trying to find a way to cheat death through transferring his soul into a clone or something.

Now whether he ever managed to accomplish this by the time we attack him is uncertain, (though there is a non canon / cut content line where he begs for his fathers help as we fight him, kinda insinuating he never fully realised his backup plan in time and he’s actually afraid he’ll die, but that’s also not in game so who can say for sure)

Now another thing I find a little funny is another example of him losing but he’s still trying to play it off.

"My, the double counter Gambit. Vicious. Exactly what I would have done"

Of course, perhaps he lost on purpose, that could be a possibility, but id like to believe that even Raphael is fallible and can fail at times. Yet he still tries to play it off, oh yea that’s totally what I would’ve done, then why didn’t you stop her 😭. Like I said, he could’ve just let her win, he is a control freak after all.

Anyway, that moves me on to my other point (a very obvious one) that Raphael is a straight up narcissist. Now, not every narcissist is the same, there are many shared traits of course, there has to be, but not very narcissist operates the same way. Though it’s clear that Raphael is at least somewhat of a control freak, especially when it comes to us and the crown. Also on another quick note, he totally has a special interest (obsession) in karsus, like him seeing karsus accidentally kill thousands of people in the netherese cities became a core memory for him, one that he’s never let go, even now.

Back on track, he has Korilla literally stalk us throughout the game, he also knows personal facts about our companions (he’s done his homework), he’s literally planned and orchestrated events in the plot to help lean towards us giving him the crown in the end (it’s implied he helped vlaakith chain Orpheus or idk some other devil did with infernal chains, and he’s the one who help wipe Ketherics lil army to just one justiciar) he’s had a lot of time to plan and plan he has. He’s constantly aware of your movements since he picks very specific points to appear to you.

"[Laughter] The good thing is though there's only one little voice you really should listen to, Mine" - Total control freak behaviour

I’m gonna circle back specifically to his dialogue for a moment, because I love hearing it, but trying to emulate it, pain. He’s like an English teacher, he loves his little similes and metaphors, and just talking in a verbose manner, and it’s not just word vomit, nonono, he makes it sound interesting, he is performing for us after all. For me personally tho, it’s difficult to replicate, unlike other characters or companions where you can defiate their dialogue, like hearing astarion say ‘fuck you’ to Cazador, I don’t think you could get away with that for Raphael.

Now, he’s not entirely that restrictive, in his notes about his employees he literally calls one of them a little shit, soooo, but then again, those can be considered private thoughts, and he would never actually break the facade he’s crafted for us, unless, he’s enraged. Example being, if we break into his house. I find it very easy to write angry Raphael because it’s not as confining as when he’s ‘masking’ or being performative. He’s allowed to break his little charade and I can simplify his language, it’s honestly a nice reprieve, since he’s really is so complicated to write for.

As I said before he’s a total control freak, and that’s clearly fuelled (if not caused) by his narcissism and we can see that even outside of our protags. Look at Haarlep for instance, (there’s so much to dissect with these two) but Raphael strictly has Haarlep made to look like himself, and is the only form he’ll sleep with. There isn’t just one answer to why he’d do that, firstly, it just boils down to him being a narcissist sure, but on the other hand a point can be made that he’s doing it strategically.

Haarlep was sent to distract him, and presumably to spy and report back as well and presumably Raphael is clever enough to realise that. So why would he reveal anything about himself in such a vulnerable way, so why not just make the incubus be in one form and one form only. It also serves as a lil bit of a punishment I suppose, since Haarlep can be 1000 different people but is forced to stay as one. There’s also another angle to this, that narcissists generally find intimacy difficult, and being vulnerable with other people. So why be vulnerable when you can stick to the devil you know?

He’s knows himself better than anyone, so why would he bother with anyone else? It’s a bit of a defense mechanism, he’s not willing to be vulnerable or let his guard down (and to be fair, for good reason) so it’d be better for him to stick to what he knows, what he’s comfortable with. I’m just going to throw this out here but he comes across as a total hedgehog dilemma sorta guy, gives off real shinji Ikari vibes tbh.

Raphael has this bloated sense of self importance, I think he mostly gets this from who he is in relation to his father, since he’s not just some cambion who was fathered by some incubus or whatever, No, his father is an arch devil, and not just any arch devil but Mephistopheles, who sits just under power of Asmodeus. This fact is probably why he has such an inflated ego, but at the same time, he’s not wrong. Unlike Mizora, he seems to have it quite good, as tbh I kinda initially thought he was his own free agent, and didn’t even have to serve under Zariel (but he does) he just has it really good, or at least better than most from what it seems.

It’s unclear if this was actually because of who he is, or through his own actions. Either way, he’s managed to accomplish a lot more than most cambions. Another thing I’ve read about cambions is their sense of entitlement, especially over mortals, and well Raphael certainly fits the bill. Which might contribute to why he wants what he wants. I mean, why does Raphael want to take over the hells? To end the blood war? Sure, almost all devils want to rise the ranks but Raphael’s goals are a lot more lofty than that, and why is that? Is it solely his ego? To be seen as something a kin to a god like Asmodeus, or is it to best and humiliate his father? Perhaps both, or perhaps neither, it’s somewhat unclear, but perhaps he just feels entitled to something greater.

A final point, is since he’s a narcissist, he’s obsessed with his image, yea I know, very obvious. And it’s been mentioned a few times that this is probably why him and Haarlep look so different, it’s either insecurity or a want to come across as something more mature, why he’d look older than Haarlep when they should be an exact copy. It’s the whole reason he’s being performing, curating this image to us, one that he barely even allows himself to break at home unless he’s enraged. If you look at it for what it is, it’s just insecurity and almost desperation. A desperate desire to be seen as something greater, something a kin to his father (daddy issues are making their appearance) and it honestly comes across as erratic, and extreme.

He’s so obsessed with his image that he either curates it in a way to come across as older and therefore more mature to seem a certain way, or he makes his incubus come across a certain way. Perhaps when Haarlep said they’re a perfect copy of Raphael they didn’t mean as an exact copy, they meant they’re are literally a perfect version of Raphael, a better version, most likely a result of insecurities. Who can say for sure what the reason is to why they look so different if they’re supposed to be mirrors of each other.

Like I know I said, this is what I’ve boggled it down to and well, it’s not very boggled, but that’s what I mean! There’s so much going on with this little guy, it’s almost hard to keep up with, you gotta write him as suave and mysterious but also somewhat threatening and intimidating, he has to be articulate and persuasive as well as theatrical, while also keeping in mind his manipulative and narcissistic tendencies, which doesn’t come easy to write for.

This isn’t a slight by any means either, he’s a complicated character and that’s why I like him, but my sorry ass struggles to replicate it 🥲 though I hope this post will be a good reference to circle back to when writing for him.

[murkyhazed]

@esoterium said: ❝ would you like to go on a walk with me ? ❞ (to merle from beth) cause why not

               the   elder   dixon   sure   as   hell   wasn’t   expecting   that.      he   figured   she’d   be   afraid   of   him,   wouldn’t   blame   her   none   neither   after   what   he   did   to   glenn.      does   he   regret   it?      yeah   he   does,   but   he’s   not   exactly   good   at   the   whole   apology   thing.      his   way   of   doing   things   was   to   just   move   on   like   it   never   happened.      completely   unhealthy,   but   merle   didn’t   know   any   different.      it’s   not   like   he   had   a   stable,   loving   home   to   grow   up   in   and   teach   him   how   to   properly   handle   delicate   situations.      somehow   daryl   managed   to   turn   out   okay,   learn   from   his   failures.      merle?      took   a   little   longer   to   own   up   to   those   mistakes.

               ❝   ain’t   much   places   t’walk   ‘round   here   kid.   ❞      he’s   trying   to   give   her   an   out,   let   her   know   she   doesn’t   have   to   try   being   nice   to   him.      no   one   else   around   here   was   except   the   girls   father.      hershel   was   a   decent   man,   and   merle   respected   him.      ❝   i   done   my   fair   share   of   walks   around   a   prison   before.      believe   me,   ain’t   nothin’   special.   ❞

[syrma-sensei]

→ Bad Mouth.

gif credit.

pairing: soldier boy x fem!reader.

rating: explicit, pure filth.

warning: domestic ben, non-canon compliant, drug use, cockwarming, daddy kink, brat!reader, choking on huge dick, piv, pet names, minimum plot...

word count: 2.2k

summary: ben wants to netflix and chill with you but on his way.

tagging: @zepskies

→ masterlist | ao3

You and Ben just finished having dinner together. Ben's cleaning the table while you take care of the dishes. You glance over your shoulder at him with pride. Ben is adapting to modern life. Even though it's an excruciatingly slow process, it's still a progress, and you couldn't be prouder. In spite of that, Ben doesn't seem to be so pleased with the drastic changes that happened to the world during his sleep, and it causes him great frustration most of the time. But you're here to help him find his place in the new world. He insists he can handle everything by his own, but the man can't do a thing without screwing everything up, especially that loose tongue of his.

You proceed with your work in the kitchen; putting dry dishes in the cupboard, mopping the floor, and sorting the leftovers from dinner. Ben is now sitting in the living room watching something on TV. You need not to worry about that because you already taught him how to shuffle through networks and pick something up to watch. You've come to notice that unlimited access to media is something he appreciates and even enjoys. He'd sit and absorb the contents for learning purposes, making comments on how cinema quality is fucked up nowadays compared to the glorious days back in his time. You'd giggle at his words, reminding you of your grumpy grandpa. He still watches what now-shitty-Hollywood produces, nevertheless.

You emerge from the kitchen, drying up your wet hands with a towel. Your gaze catches his before he says, “C'mere, sweetheart, want you to sit on my lap.”

You smile, strolling down to the sofa where he's sitting. He cranes his head to look up at you before he adjusts his position for you. You slide up deftly to straddle his strong thighs, coming face to face with his handsome visage. Beautiful green eyes ravishing you with hunger. He flashes you a mischievous grin. “Not what I meant, baby.”

“Oh,” You raise a brow, flashing him a wicked smile of your own, “If that's what you want, Daddy.” You wink.

“Atta girl.”

He helps you to stand up again, shoving his blue sweatpants and underwear down to his mid thighs as you take your panties off; you weren't wearing anything but a hoodie and a thin pair of panties, which is laying on the floor now. He's not hard but not soft either. You moan slightly as you sink on his length, his chest pressing to your back, a strong arm holding you by your waist close to his warm body. He's so well-endowed and thick, you can feel him fill every inch of you; you shiver.

From the side of the couch, Ben fetches his blunt from the small table and lights it up.

You try to distract yourself from the overwhelming sensations that course through your body from the feeling of utter fullness. Eyes glued on the screen, you notice that Ben is watching Narcos: Mexico on Netflix. The events take place in the late seventies and the early eighties, close to his time of claimed death.

Smoke begins to fog up around you, hazing your head and making it lighter. That shit is strong. Minutes elapse, and the whiffs of high is making you naughty. You glimpse at him from the corners of your eyes to find him too focused on the show. You grin giddily and slowly roll your hips on his dick. You earn a low grumble from behind but nothing more. Your faint high is making you braver so you take another shot, snapping your hips again, but more aggressive this time

“Whoa,” He says, “Easy, baby doll—”

You buck your hips again with a giggle, feeling his cock nourishing inside of you. “Hold still, woman,” He growls in a low voice, “Last warning.” Your hips carry on until he snaps impatiently, lifting you up his cock effortlessly and turning you to face him. “Not gonna let Daddy finish the goddamn season with your pretty cunt warming up his cock?”

You giggle playfully, raising a challenging brow, “No,” You emphasise with another snap of your hips. He twitches inside of you, “Come on, don't you wanna fuck me, Daddy? Or you want me to do all the work for your old-ass?”

He furrows his brows at you, but before you receive an answer, you climb down his thighs swiftly and rush towards your bedroom, you grin proudly when you hear his hasty footsteps behind you. You yelp when you find yourself being flung to the bed, your grin widens and you giggle again when you find him above you. You feel his weight on your body, and his cock nudging your opening. With a vigorous thrust he's inside you and between your legs.

“Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!” You cry, “Please, give me your cock, Daddy!”

You kick your legs playfully as he teases you with his massive cock; slow and deep drags in and out of your dripping cunt.

“Oh, now it's 'Please Daddy', hmm?” He chuckles cruelly, “What happened to the bratty bitch who wouldn't stop rocking her fucking hips on my dick? You fucking cock tease.”

“I'm sorry! I'm sorry, Daddy!” A thrilled cry tears out of your throat as you look at him with teary eyes. He stops and slides his cock out of you, and you whimper. You try to buck your hips to his cock but he has a steel grip on your wrists above my head. You couldn't move much. You curse his supe strength.

“You're sorry?” Ben sneers, raising a brow, “Sorry won't get you anywhere, sweetheart.” His face slants down so his mouth is nearly brushing yours, “If you want my cock buried in that slutty pussy of yours, you must show me how sorry you are.”

“Please,” You say breathlessly, gulping down while nodding, “Let me show you I can be a good girl, your good girl.”

“Now you wanna be my good girl?” He snickers, “Should've warmed my cock while I smoked that reefer like I told you to instead of pissing me off with your hips.”

You giggle, tilting your head to the side coquettishly, “But Daddy! I love your cock so much; can't help myself when you're inside of me.”

Ben's hands loosen from your wrists and you can move again. He quirks a playful eyebrow at you, a grin slipping into his lips. “You love how my cock fills you up, Princess?”

“Yes!” You gush, sitting up on your thighs and Ben leans back, his face still in yours. “I love it so much, Daddy. I love the feeling of you.” You slip onto the ground between his thighs. His cock is long and thick, hardened and curved up towards his lower torso. Pre-cum is glimmering on the slit of its tip. The sight makes your mouth water. Your tongue takes a long drag on the shaft and Ben growls, his hand is harsh in your hair, yanking your head backwards. You hiss in pain, but tingles of delight sweep over your spine. You like how he manhandles you. He leans down to your face and chuckles, “You want it so bad, don't you?” He drawls, mance swirling in his eyes, “Then take it.”

Ben's grip tightens on your hair, his dick is shoved all the way down your throat. You gag at the sudden fullness in your mouth. You try to lift yourself up to adjust your position, but he doesn't let you. The fucking bastard. He wants you to choke on him.

“Let's put that bad mouth of yours into some good use.”

Drool seeps through the corners of your mouth down to your chin, and tears start to prick your eyes. You hold into his thighs and try to ease your breath through your nose. You taste his pre-cum and salt of his skin. In another circumstance, you'd suck him empty.

“Ah, just like that,” His voice is thick and content, you can hear the smirk in his voice, “Move an inch and you're not allowed to cum for the rest of the week.”

Your eyes fly wide when you comprehend what's going to happen. He's going to fucking smoke again while you warm his cock with your mouth. The asshole. What a fucking dick. But his dominating, deep voice shoots directly to your pussy, making it squeeze around nothing.

You hear him flicking the lighter on and a few moments later you hear him exhale a small cloud of smoke. You whimper in discomfort and your legs shift a bit. His hand pats your hair gently and you look up at him through your bangs.

“You can be such a fucking brat sometimes,” He says after taking a long drag, his hand continues to fondle your hair tenderly. You grumble around his length and he lets out an amused chortle, “What is it, baby doll?” He strokes your scalp again. God, his smirk is so annoying but utterly beautiful, “Too busy to come up with a nasty sass?”

He wants to play dirty? You can play dirty. You flick your tongue on the underside on his shaft and it twitches in response. “Behave,” Ben warns in a grumble, hand tugging your hair. Again, your cunt clenches around nothing. You stop; you don't want him to execute his threat. Because he'd fucking do it. Last time you pushed your limits he denied you your orgasm for a night as a punishment. True, he compensated you the following morning, but it drove you crazy the entire night. Long story short, you don't want to experience that obnoxious feeling of reaching the rim of your high but never get it. Your throat clenches around his cock when you attempt to swallow your saliva.

Minutes elapsed then he muffled his reefer in the ashtray on the bedside table. His grip slides your head gently off his dick and you take a deep breath before gazing up at him. His cock is slickened wet by your spit and his pre-cum.

“Good girl,” He remarks, whipping your face dry with a tissue. When he's finished, he pats the spot next to him, “On bed, all fours.”

Thrill sweeps over your body again as you climb up on the bed again, settling on your hands and knees as he ordered after you took off your hoodie. You hear shuffling behind you; he's taking his clothes off too. You yelp in surprise when his hand smacks your right butt cheek playfully then you giggle. His hand trails down your ass crack, his fingertips teasing the rim of your butt hole and you shiver. “Can't wait to fuck this hole someday.” He comments and you chew your lower lip, “But let us focus on that honeyed pussy now, shall we?”

His blunt nails press to your clit and you moan, “Fucking Christ, you're practically drenched down here, Princess.” He circles the bundle of nerves and your hands grip the sheets beneath you. You mewl when two of his fingers are deep-knuckle inside of you.

“Please Daddy, please,” You groan, rubbing yourself against his hand when doesn't move.

“Wanna cum, baby girl? Fuck yourself on my fingers just like that.” You whimper in frustration but you do it nevertheless.

His other hand reaches out to your breasts, his fingers finding your erect nipples. Ben plays with them as his thumb presses in circles to your clit. He's driving you crazy. He's all over you. His hands toying with you, his firm chest is against your back, his mouth next to your temple whispering the filthiest words into your ears. Overwhelm sweeps over your body, and you squeeze around his fingers. You groan and rub yourself faster. Your knees are growing weak. “Daddy, Daddy! I'm gonna cum. Can I cum, please?”

He growls, “Cum to me, princess, cum to me.”

To ruin you even more, Ben pumps his fingers expertly against your g-spot and as if on cue you crash on his relentless digits. Tears run down your cheeks as the orgasm hits you like a hurricane. Ben doesn't wait, he flips you on your back and plunges himself through your pulsing cunt. He grunts at the wringing and curses under his breath. “Fuck,”

You claw at his back when his cock fills you up and you sigh in pleasure, “I love you, Daddy. I love your cock so much.”

He grins down at you then kisses you briefly, murmuring, “You have no idea how much my cock loves your pussy, doll.”

Ben snaps his hips against yours and you see the stars. He's so huge, so fucking huge. And with every drag of his dick you feel each inch of its skin and every vein friction against your sensitive walls. He fills you up completely. His mouth leaves love bites on your neck, and his tongue leaves a wet stripe on your chin before he kisses you again.

His vigour brings you to my high again and it snaps around him harshly. You scream his name and cry, digging your nails into his skin. He cums hard inside of you, you feel his hot seed painting your walls white.

His dick starts to soften inside, and he shifts to pull out, but you cling to him, looking up at his green eyes. “Stay,” you whisper.

And he does.

[bri-sonat]

Bloodied Waters

Pairing: Brienne of Tarth x Reader

Warnings: mentions of blood and slight violence, a tiny bit of angst, fluff, non-sexual nudity and intimacy. Slight canon deviation.

Synopsis: When Brienne returns covered in traces of battle, you give her comfort and safety - and a nice bath.

A/N: This has been sitting finished since July but I haven't wanted to post it for many reasons. For some reason I don't hate this fic anymore so I am taking the opportunity now so I can't revert back to my original state, lol. As per usual, English isn't my first language and all that.

Thank you to @daydream-cement for being the most supportive and encouraging friend I could ask for, and for reading this and giving me your opinion months ago.

Two months.

It had been two months since you had seen her last. Since she rode off to fight Gods knows what battle. In this time of uncertainty, you couldn’t be sure where she was sent off to anymore.

The imminent threat of the Night King and his army breaching The Wall weighed heavily on the land and it resulted in Brienne being away more than usual – but she had never been away this long.

You couldn’t be blamed when you began to wonder if she was still alive after the six-week mark and she hadn’t returned or been heard from. No one had from the company she had departed with. And when it hit eight weeks, your worries didn't get any better. 

So, they were all either dead or still fighting for their lives. Those were the only reasons your stress-ridden brain could come up with.

If she had been removed from this mortal realm, she would have died alone. Alone somewhere. Probably in immense pain.

Even if it hurt you to even entertain the thought, you hoped her possible death had been fast. That way, she didn’t have to suffer.

Your heartbreaking thoughts were cut short by the sound of a horn, signaling that the group had returned and to open the gate. From your window, you could see a band of people on horses, three of them unmanned, which made you feel uneasy.

It was usually easy to spot Brienne in a crowd of people, but her straw-blonde hair was nowhere to be seen. The pit in your stomach that had been growing over the past weeks seemed to drop when you couldn’t find her.

Maybe the chance of her losing in battle was more probable than you had been willing to accept.

But until someone explicitly told you that she had perished in battle, you would have hope for her survival.

You witnessed as the gate was opened and the warriors rode in - the people and horses disappearing from view before the gate was once again closed.

Staring out the window and waiting for a knock on your door was only going to drive you mad, so you decided to pass the time in some other way.

Scurrying about your room, you tried finding something to do but restlessness got the better of you, and you soon found yourself waiting for that knock on the door that could either be the face of your love, or the worst possible news.

After fifteen minutes of silence, you started to land in the fact that she may not have returned, and the person who knew about your relationship was slowly making their way to your room to deliver the bad news.

You couldn’t take the agonizing pain so you left your room to venture for some hot water – hoping a nice hot bath might allow your tense body to relax. If even in the smallest bit.

When you returned to your room, hot water acquired, you were surprised to discover that there was no one waiting outside your door, nor had you met someone on your walk to or from. It was strangely silent.

The bath basin sitting in the adjacent room to yours looked more and more inviting by the second and you sprang into action before the water in your hands turned cold.

Pouring the large water cans with hot water into the vessel, you pondered how it would be to bathe with Brienne. How it would be to have such calm intimacy with the person you loved more than anything in this world.

The thought made you the tiniest bit sad and even if you wanted to keep the image in your head for as long as you could, you knew it was better to think about something else for now until you knew that the fantasy was a possibility.

You filled the rest up with the cold water from the large bucket next to the basin so it would even out to a nice lukewarm temperature.

Just as you were about to take your clothes off, a knock on the door disrupted your actions and you nearly ran to the door to open it – desperate for any piece of information regarding Brienne.

When you opened the door, you were met by a face you knew all too well, only this time, it was covered in dried blood, grime, and dirt. “Brienne, oh, Gods.”

You reacted quickly by ushering her inside your room and closing the door after her. She didn’t say a single word and her eyes were empty – apathetic and void of any emotion.

You didn’t know if the blood was hers or not but there was only one way to find out.

Carefully, you sat her down on your bed and undid her sword belt and fur cape before you began removing each piece of her dark armor, sneaking eventual glances at her emotionless face, your heart breaking each time she did not even make a move to look at you. She just stared dead ahead.

Never had you seen her like this before.

When all her armor was discarded, you were hit with the stench of iron, sweat, and mud – the smell of what you assumed to be battle. You moved your attention to her gambeson and gloves, working fast to get everything off to assess her condition – if she had been injured or not.

You remained quiet throughout your entire undressing of your girlfriend, if Brienne wanted to talk – she would. You assumed she needed some silence to process everything and just enjoy being back in a safe location.

The moment her gambeson and the rest of her clothing had been removed - you took hold of her dirty hands to guide her up to a standing position. You raked your eyes over her body and found nothing except for more blood, most likely having run down her neck and invaded the skin protected by the armor.

“The blood is not mine,” Brienne croaked out. The sudden noise made you jolt, your eyes snapping up to meet her desolate ones.

“Right...,” you responded, her statement confirming that she was not wounded in a way that would warrant blood. With your worries settled, you guided her to the other room. You had poured the bath for yourself, but she needed it more.

Slowly, she stepped in, her hand in a steadfast grip in yours as she descended into a sitting position until her entire body was underneath the surface – releasing a sigh once the water enveloped her.

You let go of her hand and grabbed a bar of soap sitting on the table next to the basin and she let the hand you had previously been holding fall under the water as well.

Brienne sat in the basin, staring into nothingness – her breathing slow. You rolled up your sleeves, kneeled next to the tub, and submerged the bar in the warm water before you began gently cleaning her skin from the stench and the mud and blood that tainted her soft skin.

Starting with her face and neck, you used your hands to gently apply the soap and you observed the suds turning a brownish red as it mixed with the blood and dirt on her skin.

As your eyes scanned her face, you noticed that her disheveled blonde hair had also been soiled by blood spatter and dried mud. 

“Close your eyes.” It was a gentle command, and Brienne complied – closing her eyes without question.

Using a cloth, you dunked it in the water and allowed it to soak before wringing it out – bringing it to Brienne’s face to wipe away the lather. You dipped it in the water again to rinse it, but you caught a glimpse of it before you did – the color of the froth alien on the white fabric.

With her face now clean, you moved on to her hair. 

Normally you’d utilize your own mixed hair wash for this, but you didn't wish to leave Brienne in her current state to go and collect it. Soap would have to do.

Your movements were slow and calculated as you pressed gently on the bottom of her chin, signaling for her to lean her head back. Brienne complied and tilted her head back and you maneuvered yourself so you could have the perfect view needed to wash her dirtied hair.

Utilizing one of the jugs you had carried the water with, you dipped it in the water to fill it up and used it to wet Brienne’s straw blonde hair, going over it once or twice before you were confident that all the strands were permeated.

You grabbed the bar of soap once again and dragged it against the palm of your hand – getting a decent amount on it before placing the bar to the side and rubbing your hands together. Tenderly, you started massaging the soaping into her blonde curls and scalp, making sure that all the dirt and blood loosened from her locks.

Brienne hummed as your hands mildly rubbed her head – adoring the alleviating feeling it gave her. The feeling of comfort and security. Her eyes were still closed, and she could feel the corners of her lips twitch the tiniest bit as you pressed a kiss to her forehead before moving to fill the jug with water to rinse the soap out of her hair.

You worked softly and slowly when you combed your fingers through her locks – pouring the water over her hair as you did, making sure that all the lather was washed away.

With her hair, face, and neck clean – it was time to wash the rest of her body.

You moved away from the head of the basin and switched to sit at the side of it again, kneeling next to it. You grabbed the bar of soap and immersed your hand into the water that was starting to turn red at this point and started to cautiously drag the bar across Brienne’s chest – removing all the dried blood and dirt.

Whilst one of your hands was in the water, the other one rested on the rim of the basin, right next to Brienne’s ear, and before you knew it, you felt her leaning her head against it. A small smile started playing on your lips at the intimate position you had found yourselves in.

You had never experienced this type of closeness with your knight before – it was incredibly heart-warming and you wouldn’t complain if you found yourself in this position again; without the blood and dirt, of course. 

Brienne’s head rested against the back of your hand at the same time as yours worked on washing her arms, hands, chest, stomach – anywhere you had seen dried signs of battle.

You enjoyed every single second of the casual intimacy. The fact that there were still new ways to be so deeply close even after so many months made you incredibly giddy inside even when the situation you discovered it in was somber.

Like it had the entire time, the only thing filling the silence in the room was the splashing of the water as it hit the sides with your hand continuing to move as it scrubbed Brienne’s skin. It remained like that for a very long time until the blonde woman opened her mouth to speak for the second time since she had come home. Your hand that was scrubbing her sides halted briefly before continuing - her voice surprising you. “Thank you.”

“For what?” You couldn’t help but inquire as to why she was thanking you. What you were doing right now only seemed like the most obvious choice. You took care of each other in any way the other person needed, and you were more than happy to offer her this small service.

She was quiet for a few seconds before she spoke again – her voice low, almost like a whisper. “For this... and for giving me a reason to keep fighting. It... It didn’t look very promising for a few moments, and I was... I was harboring the idea that I would never return to you again.”

You leaned forward to press a kiss to Brienne’s forehead as you continued scrubbing her skin beneath the surface of the water. “This is the least I can do for you... you take care of and for me every day. I wanted to return the favor. Thank you for coming back to me. And you’re welcome. I’m glad to provide you with a reason to keep fighting if it’ll bring you back to me each time.”

Brienne hummed and whined slightly when you removed your lips from her skin. To have someone care for her in the way you did made her feel so gleeful and she was so grateful for you and all you did for her. “Still... Thank you.”

“Anything for my knight.” You smiled as you washed her and finished your response – already knowing the next words coming out of her mouth.

The blonde woman chuckled slightly and silently, having had this exact interaction with you many times before. By now, she knew you did it as a way of making her smile and it worked; every single time. “I’m not a knight.”

“To me you are. You’re my knight.” You saw the smile that crept up on Brienne’s lips at hearing your words, even if she had heard them many times before at this point. “Besides, if you were a man, we both know you’d be a knight by now. You have the traits of a knight, so in my eyes, you are a knight. Even if you don’t have the title.”

Brienne adjusted her head to press a kiss to the back of your hand before returning to rest her cheek on it again. “You’re too nice to me. Thank you.”

“I only treat you in the way you deserve to be treated. Not my fault you’re such an incredible person.” You said this in a way that made Brienne smile and blush – something that you did with ease many times over the two years you had known the adorable knight. It only got worse once you began your relationship because it made you able to be more frank with your compliments.

The blonde didn’t offer a response to your words – silence filling the room once again. The way Brienne spoke about the battle, it seemed to have gone bad, so much so that she thought she wouldn’t make it. You knew she would talk to you about it if she needed to and you had no reason to ask but a part of you wondered what happened that caused her to see no hope.

The rest of the bath went by in tranquility, the occasional kiss on Brienne’s forehead and the planting of lips on your hand mixed with the comforting sounds of water making the second part of the experience a very pleasant one.

After helping Brienne out of the now red-stained water and planting her before the burning fire in the other room to dry with a fur wrapped around her, you told her to stay put before running as fast as you could to her room to collect her comb, and dry and clean clothes for her.

You didn't wish to leave her but the clothes she arrived in were bloody and dirty, and you knew Brienne would appreciate the gesture. 

When you returned, she sat with her legs drawn up to her chest with her arms wound around them on the fur you had put on her.

You slowly approached her and sat down next to her – her folded clothes placed on your bed, the comb resting on the pile. “Hi.”

Her skin was dry now. Her hair was still a bit damp but you knew it wouldn’t be long until it was fully dried as well.

Brienne sighed and leaned her head against your shoulder. She stared into the crackling fire – the flames dancing in her beautiful blue eyes. “...Hi.”

“How are you feeling?” You wrapped an arm around her naked form and pulled her close to you. You had missed her so much and you were not ready to let go anytime soon except to get undressed to join her in bed.

“Better now... A little tired.” Brienne hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in weeks, and she was exhausted at this point. The adrenaline had finally worn off completely and she felt the fatigue creep up on her like she had expected it to once she was back in your safe company.

“It’s getting late... Do you want to go to sleep? I will deal with the water tomorrow.” The sun had started setting as you were washing Brienne and it had been well below the horizon for a while now. You pressed a kiss to the top of the knight’s head and awaited her answer.

“Yes, please.” Brienne sat snuggly in front of the warm hearth, but she knew that it was much nicer to be in your embrace. It was warm, cozy, and oh-so-comfortable.

“Okay... Let’s get you covered and tucked in.” You stood up and began removing the things scattered about the bed. Brienne’s discarded armor, her dirty clothes, her cape, and her sword were swept off the mattress and placed on a round table close to the hearth. Her clean clothes and comb remained on the bed, and you squatted down next to her to lay a hand on her shoulder. “Do you want to get dressed?”

Brienne leaned her head against your hand and closed her eyes. “No. I want to feel you pressed against me entirely. I don’t want clothing to restrict me from sensing all of you.”

You almost melted from her sweet words. You rubbed your thumb against her skin, the pad of it grazing against the tip of one of her scars. “Alright, my sweet Brienne.”

The knight lifted her head from your hand and you slid it down her arm – leaving it to rest on her bicep. You gently rubbed it up and down as she opened her eyes and stood up.

You swiftly removed the pile that was on the bed and placed them on the table as well. You would have to comb her hair tomorrow instead. 

With the bed empty, Brienne could pull off the furs and crawl in under them – covering her bare body and providing her with warmth and comfort for the first time in weeks.

She laid on her back as she watched you undress, folding your clothes and placing them on top of your trunk.

You finally crawled into bed and cuddled up next to Brienne, her skin incredibly soft. She hummed as you slung one arm and leg over her torso, bare skin against bare skin, and rested a hand on your thigh.

Her other arm went around your shoulders and pulled you closer – your head resting on her chest.

Her rhythmic heartbeat was a consistent reminder that she was indeed alive and still with you. After two months of being apart, the whole situation felt imaginary, but her steady heartbeat let you know that it was real – that she was indeed with you. “I can hear your heartbeat.”

Brienne’s hand on your thigh rested securely and her thumb drew soft lines across your skin. She smiled at your words as she kept her eyes closed to invite slumber. “It’s beating because and for you.”

Her words caused you to pull yourself even closer to her, which was impossible to do at this point. A smile and a blush crept up on your face, she always said the most adorable things and you had no idea what you did to deserve her love, but you were so thankful for her. “You’re sweet. I love you so much.”

Brienne chuckled quietly and you could tell she was close to falling asleep by her voice. “You bring out that side in me... what can I say? I love you, too. Thank you for being here when I returned.”

“I will always be here when you return,” you whispered. You were starting to feel the weeks of worried sleep catch up to you by now and you were more than ready to finally fall asleep in her embrace once again.

The only response Brienne gave was a hum and it fell silent after that.

You heard the knight’s breathing even out after a few minutes, and it signaled that she had fallen into a slumber that you hoped was a deep and restful one. You could only imagine the conditions she has been having to sleep in, and you couldn’t see them being comfortable.

You listened to her breathing and heartbeat for a few more seconds before sleep claimed you as well. Now back with a safe Brienne, you knew that you’d sleep incredibly well. You always did with her.

When you awoke the next morning, Brienne would kiss you all over to make up for two months of being away from one another. But that was up to you in the future to find out. Until then, you were more than happy to finally be with her again, and you remained clinging to your knight all night long.

------

taglist: @na-shoba, @pastanest, @the-fuck-do-i-know, @christies-fleur, @idontlikepexple, @lord6-6fandom, @sapphicmitski (can't tag you for some reason)

[ccarrot]

what are your hcs/theories about chuuya's past? feel free to go wild with your thoughts 😽

I have a few. .. A lot actually but i felt like making some art so here's what i have the stamina for right now.

Mom Nakahara

So i've been thinking about her a lot considering she's the parent he would have spent the most time with. We know basically one line about her but we can learn that she and her husband have a lot of political sway in town, she's of samurai descent, and has a lot of decorum "like those of the upper class". That didn't really translate into the design I made for her bc for some reason i was very fixated on her being a farmer lady but I imagine she has a very polite and respectful personality. I think her past involving some form of samurai heritage could indicate she's a socialite of some kind and rather wealthy and well known in the village, which could attract a lot of disrespect when the Dad is at war and she's raising Chuuya on her own.

Apart from the mostly baseless farmer vibes i DID want her to seem very soft, and very tired. She's effectively a single mother, her husband's at war, her child is "unruly" and gets into fights and she's might be getting shit from the people she knows around her. It's stressful.

2. Gender

So here this might be diverging from canon, but this is very very important to me. i headcanon Chuuya as FtM transgender, like this is just super ingrained in my mind. Projection mostly. (Also why whenever I draw genderbender art of him, Girl Chuuya's body isn't particularly feminine, maybe she hasn't gotten her tits yet. I want the trans/nb reading to be very available.)

So anyways when i was thinking about his past, i was wondering if he even started considering gender that way. Maybe, maybe not. I think he might have gone for a more "tomboy" type attitude when he was a kid, begging his mom to let him wear "non-girly clothes" instead. Maybe she lets him to that because wearing shorts instead of a skirt isn't something that really matters in her eyes, cutting her kid's hair short isn't a big deal. So i think mom would be accepting of the idea that her son's trans, but maybe other townspeople aren't. And they spread rumors about Chuuya's mother "for raising him wrong."

Cue some kindergarten Chuuya out to bat for his mom's honor.

3. Professor N.

This is a really obvious one to me, but I believe that Chuuya knew N before the lab. Two versions I bounce between: N being a friend of his father's during the war. If N really does stand for "Nakahara" maybe N is his uncle on his mom's side. Either way I think some kind of accident or risk was involved with Chuuya's ability manifestation, and contact N who they know is involved with some secret ability research and they trust him enough to send Chuuya to the lab with him to "get him fixed"

If chuuya's original ability was the self contradicting power enhancement ability, maybe an accident involving him over powering something and it like. exploding or something. Or maybe he used it on himself and some kind of singularity opened up (black holes maybe??) Either way something really dramatic bc Chuuya's ability is dramatic.

Anyways. theres something very insidious to me about N knowing Chuuya as a kid. As soon as he was given the chance to, he not only faked his death, experimented on him, but systematically abused him in order to make him lose his sense of self/sense of humanity. essentially forcing him into an object/weapon. Not a person anymore. It's sick, N is honestly one of (if not THE) most genuinely evil characters in all of bsd.

Overall I'm hesitant on the idea of Chuuya's parents being awful but it is possible. I've got several different fluctuating versions of his pre-lab backstory honestly.

[storiesforallfandoms]

captive ~ blackbeard/edward teach; our flag means death

word count: 3808

request?: no

description: in which his crew takes a hostage without his permission, so he decides to make her a reluctant part of the crew

pairing: blackbeard (edward teach) x female!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of raids, raid typical violence, can say this is pre-canon or non-canon because stede isn't mentioned, bi!blackbeard (we are not erasing mlms in this household)

masterlist (one, two, three)

The heavy pound of boots moved across the deck. The leather clad captain looked over his crew; some wounded from the raid but most were fine. His dark clothes hid the blood that was covering him - none of it his own. He grinned in pride to himself, proud of himself and his crew for another successful raid.

He stopped suddenly, noticing a new face tied up to their mast. The unknown woman glared up at him through the hair that had fallen into her face.

"Izzy," Blackbeard beaconed. "Who is this?"

"Captive, sir," Izzy responded. "We found her hiding below deck before abandoning the ship."

"I told you no captives," Blackbeard sneered. "Captives are just extra weight. We kill anyone on the ships we raid."

Their captive winced at his words. The fear didn't go unnoticed by the ruthless pirate captain.

"Bring her to me."

She tried to fight against the two crew members who grabbed hold of her, but there was no use. They untied her from the mast but kept her hands restrained in front of her. She stood before Blackbeard, trying to keep eye contact with him as to not seem afraid, but her trembling body gave her away. She flinched as he grabbed her bound hands. When he unsheathed his knife, nearby crewmates gasped and watched intently, both nervous and intrigued by the thought of seeing their captain slaughter someone on the deck.

When he cut the restraints, everyone let out a breath. The captive nearly collapsed and sobbed with relief.

"Come with me," he said. He started to walk towards his office, but the captive didn't follow. He glanced back at her. "That wasn't a question."

She reluctantly followed the pirate captain. All eyes followed her until she passed through the doorway and Blackbeard shut it behind her. She was so tense her body almost hurt. She didn't realize her hands were balled into fists until she felt her nails biting into her palms.

Blackbeard approached a table with an assortment of alcohol bottles on it. He took two glasses and filled them both. He gestured to a desk with chairs on either said - his desk. "Sit."

She did as he said. It was another "not question", and she figured it was best to follow those instructions at that point. She sat and Blackbeard placed the glass of alcohol in front of her. She glanced at it for a moment before looking back up at him. He rolled his eyes and took a mouthful of his own drink.

"Poured it from the same bottle, so there's nothing in it," he said.

"I don't drink," she said. It was the first time she had spoken since the raid. Her voice was scratchy and her throat felt raw. "Can I have water instead?"

She was shocked when Blackbeard stood and actually fulfilled her request. When he placed the glass in front of her, she immediately chugged down the contents of it. Blackbeard sat across from her again, studying her as he nursed his drink.

She didn't meet his eye as she placed the glass on the desk and said, "Thank you."

"What's your name?"

She hesitated, but eventually she responded, "(Y/N)."

"As a pirate rule of thumb, (Y/N), you show your captain respect. That means you answer the questions I ask, and you look at me when we're speaking."

Her head snapped up quickly. "Captain? You're not - "

"I didn't kill you, but I can't let you go, either. It risks you running off and turning our last known location in to the authorities."

"Then keep me captive."

"We don't hold captives here. Either you die or you join us. But I'm making the choice for you this time; you're joining us."

(Y/N) felt like she was going to cry. It felt like a lose-lose situation for her. She didn't want to die or be held captive by the most notorious pirate captain, but she also didn't want to become a pirate. She wanted to go home to her parents, who she was sure were going to be worried sick once they heard the news of the raid, and mourn the loss of her friends who were on the ship that was invaded. She certainly did not want to live alongside the savages who killed her friends.

But it seemed there was no choice. She wasn't about to fight Blackbeard on this when he was allowing her to live. But it truly felt like a fate worse than imprisionment.

"I'll have my first mate prepare a cabin for you," he said. "And I promise you, (Y/N), my crew will leave you alone. No one will harm you."

(Y/N) nodded, too upset to speak.

~~~~~~

The weeks went by and (Y/N) fell into a routine with her new shipmates. She was still keeping to herself, not wanting to see any of the crew unless necessary. She was still trying to pretend like this whole thing wasn't happening.

Blackbeard kept his promise, too. The day after her unwilling induction into the crew, Blackbeard had warned his crew that if he heard of anyone intentionally harming (Y/N), that he would deal with them in the most painful manner, and his warning definitely seemed to stick. No one even dared to look (Y/N)'s way most days, and after so long they started treating her like one of them.

(Y/N) wished that made her feel better, but she was miserable.

She was stood at the bow one night after everyone else had turned in. She had been doing that a lot lately: watching the calm, night water on her own, most times crying as she mourned the life she had lost. Tonight, though, there had been no tears. Just memories of her family and the friends she lost in the raid.

She was so lost in her own thoughts that she didn't hear anyone approach until a voice suddenly said, "You're up awful late."

She jumped and turned to see Blackbeard stood next to her. She looked away from him, still unable to maintain eye contact with the man who was supposed to be her "captain".

"I could say the same to you," she muttered.

"I don't tend to sleep very well."

(Y/N) dared a quick glance at Blackbeard. His face didn't give anything away, but she wondered the context behind his words. He was the most feared pirate captain in the world, what caused him to be sleepless? Was he haunted by the images of the people he had killed? Or was it something that went back even further than his pirate days?

"I'd ask if it's the snoring, but you have your own quarters so you should be safe from that," he said.

(Y/N) was shocked to feel a smile pulling at the corner of her lips. "Actually, Fang snores so loudly that I can hear it in my quarters."

She was more shocked to hear Blackbeard genuinely laugh at her comment. "Yeah, I feel like I can sometimes, too."

He was hesitant for a moment, but he decided to settle next to her, leaning against the small space of wall left next to her. His shoulder brushed against hers, but for once, she didn't feel the urge to cringe away from a touch.

"I like to watch the water when I can't sleep, too," he said. "It's very peaceful and calming."

"I think about jumping in and swimming away sometimes," (Y/N) blurted before she could stop herself.

Blackbeard looked over at her, but she refused to look back at him. "Where would you go?"

She shrugged. "To the nearest land, and then try and find a way back to my parents."

"I hope you're a strong swimmer, then, because there isn't any land for miles."

(Y/N) laughed, humorlessly. "Actually, I'm quite shit at swimming. I'd probably drown. But it's a fantasy I often have when I'm here at night."

A silence fell over them. Blackbeard was still looking at her. If she had dared to meet his gaze, she would've seen a look of pity on his face. Blackbeard was more than aware of what (Y/N) had lost when they raided her ship and his crew stupidly took her as a captive instead of killing her or leaving her on the ship they had invaded. Despite what most people thought, he wasn't heartless. Not completely, anyways. He had a soft spot that very few people were able to get to, and (Y/N) had somehow managed to get to do it with just one terrified look.

"Tell me about your parents," he said.

She finally looked at him, curious. "What do you want to know?"

"Anything."

She thought for a moment, wondering if this was some sort of test or something. But the look on his face was sincere, a look that she hadn't seen from him since being taken aboard the ship.

"My father is a painter," she started. "He met my mother at a gallery where his art was hung. She was betrothed to someone else at the time, but she always said she saw my father for the first time and immediately fell in love with him. She said she begged her father - my grandfather - for days and days to break off the engagement to the other man so she could marry my father instead."

"And did he?"

(Y/N) smiled as she nodded. "Eventually, yeah. It took a lot of convincing. The man my mother was supposed to marry was from a wealthy family, so my grandfather wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea of her wanting to marry a painter instead. Apparently, my father ended up making some sort of beautiful painting that persuaded both of my grandparents."

Blackbeard raised an eyebrow at her. "Apparently?"

"Well, I've never seen it. Mum claims that my grandparents had it, but they passed before I was born and most of their possessions were sold."

"So you don't believe the painting exists?"

"I believe my father painted something beautiful, but he probably sold it for a lot of money to bribe my grandfather into letting him marry mum instead."

"Smart man, then."

The two of them laughed. The atmosphere around them began to feel less tense, which was probably the biggest shock to (Y/N). She didn't expect to see a softer side to the man who was known for breaking just about every law in existence, and maybe even some that hadn't even been invented yet. Although, she hadn't expected him to take mercy on her when his crew kidnapped her either.

"Are you their only child?" Blackbeard asked.

"No, I have five siblings actually. Two sisters, three brothers. Six of us in total."

He winced. "God, your poor mum."

(Y/N) laughed again. "Yeah, it's definitely not something I strive for in life. By my age she already had two kids, but I can't imagine even having one."

There was a pause, like Blackbeard was thinking, before he asked, "Did you have a husband? Or a betrothed?"

(Y/N) also paused, considering the question for a moment. "No. My parents didn't believe in the arranged marriages. They wanted us to marry for love, and I haven't quite found that love yet."

Blackbeard nodded and they fell back into a silence again. (Y/N) found herself leaning closer against him, the light brush of their shoulders becoming more than that. He leaned into her as well until she was all but pressed against his side.

"Thank you for sparing me," (Y/N) said, breaking the silence. "This may not have been my ideal outcome from being captured, but it certainly beats the alternative."

Blackbeard smiled. "You're welcome. I'm glad I spared you."

She wasn't sure how long they ended up standing there, leaning against one another and watching the water, but eventually (Y/N) felt her eyes growing heavy. Her head lulled to the side, resting against Blackbeard's shoulder. She felt him tense beside her for a moment, which was enough to jolt her back to reality.

"I guess I should get to bed," she said. She started to walk towards the cabins, but stopped to turn back to Blackbeard. "Goodnight, captain."

"Ed."

Her brows furrowed. "What?"

"My name, it's actually Ed. If you want to call me that, I mean. I wouldn't mind."

She smiled. "Ed. Goodnight, Ed."

"Goodnight (Y/N)."

~~~~~~

In the days that followed, (Y/N) found herself more drawn to Ed, and it seemed he felt the same way. He would often call on her to spend time together, leave her notes in her quarters to meet him once everyone else had gone to bed so they could spend some time alone, he even once allowed her to be present during a meeting with Izzy where they were trying to figure out the next destination of the ship. Izzy was very clearly not happy with the new addition, and that quickly became the last time (Y/N) was ever involved with those types of meetings.

She started to open up more to her other crewmates, but not as much as she did with Ed. It was a great shock to her, but she found herself developing a kinship with him.

Maybe even more than that. Maybe she was developing feelings for him that she was too scared to admit to.

But all those feelings came out one day when an otherwise beautiful, calm day at sea was interrupted by the harsh jolt of something hitting the water beside them, causing the waves to nearly capsize the ship.

"What the fuck was that?" Fang said, rushing to the side to look over. The other crewmates followed just in time to see a large black object fall into the water mere inches away from the ship, causing another wave to throw all of them to the floor.

"We're being attacked!" Izzy called from the crow's nest. "Everyone, get in position!"

(Y/N) was left confused and scared as she watched the other crewmates scramble around the ship. She had never been told what to do in the event of an attack. Surprisingly, they hadn't been the ones to be attacked since she joined the crew. They had done plenty of attacking, but Ed was insistent upon her not being involved in any of that. Not that she minded, the last thing she wanted to do was to fight other blood thirsty pirates.

But it seemed now she had no choice. She couldn't run to her quarters and hideaway from the attack. That's how she was captured but Ed's men in the first place, and she wasn't about to become a captive on another ship. Her only defense was to try and figure out how to fight.

Another cannonball hurtled through the sky, this time flying over the ship and landing in the water on the other side, throwing the shipmates off their balance yet again. (Y/N) fell onto the deck, the impact knocking the wind out of her. Her head was spinning as she looked up to see someone climbing over the side of the boat and onto the deck. She let out a shriek as she realized it was not a member of their crew, but rather their attackers were coming on board.

Before the attacker could get far, Izzy appeared almost out of nowhere and dug his sword into the attacker's chest. His eyes glazed over and his body went limp within seconds. Izzy shoved the lifeless body back over the side of the ship before turning to (Y/N). She couldn't tell if he was annoyed by her lack of fighting skills, or with the fact that the ship was being attacked in general.

"Get out of here," he said. "Hide below deck where the gunpowder and weapons are. They'll want Ed, so they won't go anywhere near there."

She nodded, still a bit shocked by everything going on and by Izzy's brief moment of kindness. He turned his back on her to keep fighting the other attackers that were starting to board the ship. While he and the other crewmates kept them busy, (Y/N) quickly slipped below deck and went exactly where Izzy told her to go. Their weapons hold was full of barrels and other large boxes holding the weapons they had taken from previous raids. (Y/N) wedged herself between a few barrels, hoping she was out of sight enough if anyone did happen to come down.

All she could hear above was the sounds of feet pounding against the desk, and louder sounds of bodies hitting the floor. She flinched with every loud thud over her head, wondering if it was an attacker or one of her crewmates that had gone down. She wondered where Ed was, if he had gotten wind of the attack before any of the attackers found him. She knew anyone who dared to go after the feared pirate captain Blackbeard would be no match for him, but there was still this fear in the pit of her stomach whenever she thought about the possibility of Ed being ambushed and harmed.

She froze as she heard footsteps descending the stairs leading into the weapons area. She waited, hoping that whoever it was would just move along, but she didn't hear any movement that would tell her what they were doing. She held her breath, but her heart was pounding so hard that she was sure that whoever it was could hear her.

Footsteps began to move through the room. She shrank further behind the barrels she was using as a hiding spot. She was shaking so violently that her vision was starting to blur. What was she going to do if the person who came down found her? She hadn't brought a weapon, she had no idea how to fight, and there was no way she was getting past the person and back up onto the deck before they could grab her. She was truly and royally fucked.

She couldn't contain a gasp as one of the barrels moved and an unfamiliar man sneered down at her.

"I thought I saw someone run down here," he said. "What's wrong, pretty girl? You don't know how to fight the big bad pirates?"

Suddenly, she had flashbacks of when Izzy had found her first and taken her captive. She thought he was scary at the time, but Izzy was nothing compared to this pirate. She was sure that if he took her, that would be the end of her. She would never see Ed again, and he would never know which of the attackers had taken her last breath.

Fear was starting to overflow within her, so much so that tears were starting to form in her eyes. This just made the man laugh.

"Ain't that cute? Tears aren't going to save you, pretty girl."

(Y/N) shut her eyes tightly as the man began to reach for his weapon. She didn't hear another set of footsteps coming down the stairs, nor did she see someone coming up behind the new attacker. But she heard the sound of a blade piercing flesh, followed by the sound of the man making noises she wished she didn't know existed. She opened one eye in time to watch the man topple over, lifeless, and to see Ed stood behind him.

"Ed," she breathed, a sob escaping her lips as she did.

He sheathed his blade and quickly took (Y/N) into his arms. He held her tightly as she began to sob.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled into her hair. "I'm so fucking sorry. I didn't know you were down here until I finally managed to find Izzy. I would've had you hidden in a safe place if I knew you were here."

"Izzy told me it was safe down here," (Y/N) said, her words muffled in Ed's leather. "He said they would be after you and no one would come down here."

"They normally don't, but this fucker saw you come down here and decided to come after you. Fuck, I should've come looking for you the minute they started attacking us."

"You had a ship to protect."

"I don't give a fuck about the ship. I only give a fuck about you."

She pulled away from his embrace to look up at him. For the first time, (Y/N) saw fear in Ed's eyes. He knew she was safe, he was holding her, seeing her, after saving her from being killed herself, but still she could see how scared he had been that he might've lost her. That if he had been just a few seconds later, he would've come down to find her dead body instead.

Ed wasn't afraid of an attack or of losing his ship. He was afraid of losing her.

Before she could stop herself, she took hold of his face and pulled him in for a kiss. He didn't stop her. In fact, he reached one hand up to gently cup her face. She held on to his leather like it was her lifeline, and he held on to her like she was his.

"I've wanted to do that for so long," he said once they pulled apart from each other.

"You didn't do it, though. I did," she teased.

"Yeah, but I still kissed you back, so it counts."

"But you didn't initiate the kiss."

"I still kissed you, so it counts."

(Y/N) giggled and leaned forward to kiss him again. Ed wrapped one arm around her lower back and pulled her closer to him. The kiss became passionate quickly, with Ed's hand starting to move lower on (Y/N)'s body.

If it weren't for the sound of someone clearing their throat, it probably would've gone further than that too.

Ed and (Y/N) broke apart and turned to see Izzy stood at the bottom of the stairs. He was looking between the two of them, an amused look on his face.

"Your wounded need you captain," he said.

"Oh, yes, right," Ed said. "I'll be right up. Can you, uh, can you send someone down to deal with this man? He's already dead, but I want to make sure his body burns the same way he will be in Hell."

"Right away, sir."

(Y/N) was sure she saw a smirk on Izzy's face as he climbed up the stairs again.

"Come, someone needs to have a look at you," Ed told her.

She shook her head. "I'm fine. No one hurt me."

"I just want to be sure. Then, you're staying in my quarters tonight. I can't have you out of my sights after this."

She smiled and nodded. "Yes, captain."

[dotieeee]

The Gamemaker's Apprentice

Level 10

Pairing: Dark!Young!Coriolanus Snow x You, named!Reader

Overall Warnings:

NON-CON, DUB-CON, Dark!Young!Coriolanus Snow, Snow himself should be a warning, lots of blackmailing, gaslighting, manipulation, obsession, possesiveness, eventual forced marriage, eventual loss of virginity, breeding kink, canon-compliant major character death, reader is named but has no physical descriptions in the fic so one might also consider her an OC but in 2nd POV, will have canon inconsistencies, drugging, somnophilia, and other stuff that may be added

Masterlist

Level 10 Warnings:

Graphic violence, torture and experiments conducted on children (because it isn't Hunger Games without it lol), the female rage, uh, feelings?? Lmao

Replay Level 9

Ready? Level 10 Start:

“Nellie, come back to me, I’m right here…”  a muffled voice whispers above you.

“I don’t want to go with you …” you whisper back.

But the voice doesn’t seem to hear it.

“…You’re alright, sugarplum, you’re safe. Come back to me…”

The ringing in your ears grows even louder, making you wince, before halting altogether. You blink and you realise you’re back in the testing room. Back to watching three teenagers die on the big screen. Back with him.

And he’s got you in his embrace and currently kissing your hair and stroking it.

Fighting the urge to kick him in the nuts, you wrench free from his grip, not bothering to even gauge how he reacts. You watch the screen displaying the aftermath of the explosion that F1 had just set off, but it isn’t just the debris you’re seeing on the big screen that’s fully caught your attention – it’s what it set off.

The first thing you notice is the screaming. It isn’t just from one of them, but from all of them, it seems. It goes on even as the cloud of smoke and dust from the explosion clears to reveal an alarming scene:

Audrey, now apparently conscious, had just tackled Callahan to the ground and was clawing at anything of him she could reach, screaming with rage at the top of her lungs. Callahan attempts to fend himself off by pushing her away, cursing her in the process, but Audrey’s adrenaline levels on the gamemaker console are sky-high, making her a brutal, almost invincible force.

“It’s the venom, isn’t it?” F2 wonders out loud, her eyes glued to the screen. “But she was in a coma, her vitals confirmed it earlier. I thought the venom would either put her into a coma or make her aggressive?”

Coriolanus curls his lip and replies, “Perhaps her body reacted to the venom in a way that the lab has never observed before.”

Who cares, though, how differently she reacted compared to the experiments? If you don’t put a stop to this quickly, one or more of them could potentially be fatally injured.

“Let him go, Audrey!”

Tansey screams as she drags Audrey off her friend in an unexpected display of strength, so Audrey topples down to the ground. But this does not deter her. She makes a grab for the dagger inside her pouch and aims it at the younger girl, but she dodges the attack. Callahan is instantly on his feet, on the offensive, but with no weapon at hand, he’s clearly at a disadvantage.

In your mounting anxiety, you place your palms to cover your mouth as you wrack your brains hard for a way out for the teenagers.

You can only gasp, your eyes widening as the dagger in Audrey’s hand digs into Callahan’s upper abdomen, and even as far away as the camera angle captures the gruesome scene, you can see his shirt soak in the dark red liquid you’ve been dreading to see the entire night.

Callahan lets out a shuddering breath as Audrey pulls out the dagger, aiming it once more to deliver another blow – 

With a loud whack, Tansey hits Audrey’s head with a thick metal rod with just enough force to render her unconscious. Tansey drops the rod, which lands on the cement with an echoing clang.

And yet all you could look at is Callahan as he drops to the ground, bleeding freely from his stomach, except it isn’t the teenage boy you see anymore.

You recognise those bright, pretty eyes anywhere.

Coriolanus steps right in front of you and places his arms around you, presumably to block your view, but even that doesn’t stop you from peeking from his side.

It’s your mother once again, dripping in her own blood, but this time, she’s in the arena with a wound she can easily recover from. And you’re not the helpless little girl anymore who needs daddy to come patch it up for you: this time, there is something you can do to keep her alive.

You don’t even think about it as you break free from Coriolanus’s grip and walk mechanically to the main command console. Everyone’s attention is on the big screen anyway and wouldn’t see what you’d be doing.

“Nellie, where are you going?” he asks.

In the background, you hear F1 contemplate out loud whether he should activate the acid rain, but Coriolanus seems to ignore him. You hear their voices, but they’re so far away from you now.

On the main command console, you initiate the command: Alt+F4.

The console flashes a warning:

SHUTDOWN command rejected.

Shutdown cannot be completed due to: Game Status: ACTIVE.

First-level administration credentials required to override.

You press Continue, and the username and password fields appear. You know these credentials like the back of your hand, so your fingers move by themselves.

Credentials confirmed.

Warning: Command: SHUTDOWN OVERRIDE will terminate Game progress and will not save current Game data.

Press ⬅️ to Resume. Press Enter to Continue.

And without a single ounce of hesitation, you press Enter.

SHUTDOWN OVERRIDE confirmed.

Changing Game Status to: TERMINATED.

Program shutting down...

Triumph fills your heart as you read the window flashing on the big screen:

Game Status: TERMINATED.

Press CTRL + SHIFT + Enter on Main Command Station to BEGIN NEW GAME.

You actually revel in the silence that blankets the entire testing room just before the sirens in the test arena go off. Just like that, the data they were so itching to save, gone with but a few commands, never to be retrieved, thanks to your uncle’s master credentials.

It’s F3 who breaks the silence first. “Well, that was one hell of a Game.”

You could feel your mentor’s icy gaze bore holes into your psyche. F1 rubs his face with his palms and bangs his fist on the table. “Yes, it was. It’s a shame the entire data we’ve worked so hard to get for almost two years wasn’t saved – ”

Coriolanus puts a stop to his tirade with a single, calmly raised palm.

“Tell me why you did what you did, Nellie,” he says. He straightens to his full height and dons this unusually cool demeanour as if this conversation is merely a discussion of the weather.

So, you respond with a similar air. “I made a calculated decision to shut it down.”

You spare one look at the observation box where the Head Gamemaker stands with her hands clasped, her face unreadable.

Coriolanus lets out a hum. “And tell me why this specific function wasn’t brought up during the integration tests.”

You give him a nonchalant shrug. “But I did. During the demos, I highlighted the fact that the main command console is where the override requests are to be entered.”

“And in the event of an override request, I imagine our credentials would be quite useless. Those were Mr Innis’s logins.”

Since it wasn’t phrased as a question, you nod once and smile at him.

“I received word that the Peacekeepers have escorted the test subjects out of the arena for medical examination,” F2 interrupts the discussion carefully like she’s testing the waters.

A small sigh escapes your mentor’s lips before the corners of his lips lift. This puzzles you a little, the way he seems relieved.

“There is a reason why tests exist, Nellie. We’re looking for potential setbacks in the program. And it seems like this could be one of them.”

“The computer engineers are free to go for the day.”

Everyone’s heads whip to Dr Gaul currently descending from the glass observation deck. Her composure is bizarre, as well, seeing as you all but sabotaged her tests today.

“Good work so far, Misters and Miss Finley. Expect an ample addition to your bonuses at the end of the third quarter. Oh, and before you go, I will need one of you to send a memo to the other gamemakers. We will need all hands on deck next week to test the program further. Dismissed.”

The triplets give their thanks and promptly exit the room. Dr Gaul’s mismatched eyes follow them, before turning to you and your mentor the moment the door closes.

She says, “Despite the disappointment of failing to gather such valuable data for the other gamemakers, Ms Innis made the right call.”

You narrow your eyes at her declaration. Coriolanus isn’t upset with your actions, and neither is she. And your mentor mirrors the unanswered question in your head with a curious look.

“We might have more need for the three test subjects,” Dr Gaul explains further. “We could pool more of them from the districts if need be, but given our time constricts, it’d be best to keep working with the ones we already have.

“Besides, that third test subject…you’ve seen how her body reacted to the ant muttation’s venom, did you not, Mr Snow?”

“Yes, ma’am, I did,” he responds politely.

“Half the test subjects we’ve injected with the venom were rendered comatose and they stayed that way until we pulled the plug. The other half underwent bouts of severe aggression, which of course waned as the venom wore off.

“I never had a single one of them display both the symptoms…”

She trails off and strides slowly towards the door, leaving you in doubt of your actions. The three teens were spared a needless death, only to be forced to participate in more of the games. And in Audrey’s case, to be potentially experimented on by none other than the head of the Department of War’s Genetics Division.

As she reaches the door, Coriolanus beckons you by tilting his head and gripping your arm. You both follow your department head to the elevator, which drops you off to the Genetics division. Coriolanus leads you by the arm to the dreaded level.

You’ve only been here once before and that was when you first encountered the jabberjays. To say the experience was unsettling is an understatement, but this time, by the way you pass by the endless rows of glass cages containing all manners of abomination, you can tell you’re about to be shown something much worse.

Amidst the cacophony of noises let out by the genetically modified malformations on the floor, a distant sound that closely resembles a scream makes you clutch Coriolanus’s sleeve. If he notices this, he makes no mention of it.

After walking for a while, you reach the end of a hallway facing a non-descript grey wall. You must’ve reached a dead-end, but the other two don’t seem fazed or lost. Dr Gaul unveils a key sensor hidden in a niche at the wall and swipes her card, and a portion of the once-grey wall before her shifts slightly backwards before sliding to the right.

Of course. You figure if anyone is going to have an office hidden behind a wall, it has to be Volumnia Gaul.

Coriolanus must’ve been here before, for he doesn’t seem surprised. He still has you by the arm so you let yourself be dragged into the space. Inside reveals just more long tables filled with various scientific equipment, cabinets lined with jars of creatures suspended in formaldehyde, with the head gamemaker’s station on the far right corner rivalling your uncle’s set up in the office you occupy.

Their attention isn’t on the bizarre scientific display but on the left side of the room which you failed to notice before.

Thick glass windows are fitted on the wall to reveal several containment cells, perhaps for experiments. Your eyes widen at the sight of Tansey inside one of the cells, both her hands and feet tightly bound by rope, just crouched in the corner looking shaken out of her wits.

What had happened to Callahan? To Audrey? You take your arm away from your mentor and rush to the glass window, but he yanks it back with a little more force and gives you a pointed look.

“Why is she here? What is this?”

“This, Ms Innis, is leverage,” Dr Gaul replies as she approaches the window. She then turns to set her eyes on you, her smile belying the cruelty you’ve come to know her for. “The program you and your uncle built will change my Games forever. So, you understand why I am keen on putting this to use for the 12th Hunger Games.

“That is also why I think it’s in your best interest to give me full master access to your program and remove your uncle’s credentials. You will also give Mr Snow the same access as mine.”

“What do you mean…remove my uncle from the program?” your voice goes a pitch higher as you digest the insult. Your voice begins to shake as you stand your ground. “This belongs to Acacius Innis. I will not give anyone full master access without his permission. So no. You have had no hand, nor right to my uncle’s work.”

The head gamemaker’s smile just widens as she takes out a walkie-talkie and says, as if she’s ordering from a menu, “Two beetle mutts, please.”

The sound of a latch opening from one of the cells startles you. A small shaft on the wall at Tansey’s cell had just opened, and out from it comes a black and brown beetle half the size of your arm.

Volumina Gaul takes in your look of confusion and fear like fresh air.

“That is a larder beetle muttation, in case you’re wondering. Without genetic modifications, the little beetle would be content with dead flesh, but this…” she chuckles deeply to herself, “This is a thing of beauty, craving live, human flesh…did you know it takes only six of them and roughly twenty minutes to devour someone of your test tribute’s size? So tell me, Ms Innis – I’ve heard of your aptitude in mathematics – how long do you think two beetles would take for them to leave nothing but the bones of that little girl?”

She has to be bluffing, right?

“You can’t do this,” you whisper. Your eyes bulge the further the beetles go, watching as Tansey attempts to dodge it despite her tied limbs, her mouth open in a scream you can’t hear through the glass. Unable to control yourself and panicking on the inside, you say, “Please, she has nothing to do with this!”

Dr Gaul just takes strides towards her computer and waves a hand at it. “There are chips inside those bugs designed to send shocks that will incapacitate them. Do what I say, and you save your little... thing  from getting eaten alive,” she says as she bares her teeth with a smile cold enough to raise your hair. “Tick-tock, Ms Innis…”

Volumnia Gaul’s high-pitched cackle bounces off the walls of her office.

With eyes close to watering, you weigh your choices – is your uncle’s entire life’s work worth sacrificing an innocent life for?

The beetles are inches away from Tansey’s frail, writhing body, and the more she moves, the more the beetles sense her presence.

And you berate yourself for even thinking a stupid set of computer code was worth letting Tansey get hurt.

Your uncle would be ashamed of you.

“Call the beetles off…”

You walk past Coriolanus, who’s quietly observing the exchange, and enter your remote access credentials on the station. Dr Gaul watches from behind you, and with a single click, your uncle is forever erased from the program he poured his heart into. In his place, are the names of Coriolanus Snow and Volumnia Gaul.

“Call the beetles off, please! I did what you wanted me to do, now please let her go!”

“Not quite.” Volumnia Gaul tilts her head at you playfully as she uses her sing-song voice. “What is it you kids say these days? Ah, I think it goes quite like this: ‘I won’t hurt her if you tell.’

“I am aware there are other ways my work can be derailed. So you can spill the beans, Snow’s pretty pet: did you know of any other methods that could sabotage my program, my tests, and my Games?”

She can’t know. She can’t possibly know.

Your blood turns to ice, but you keep a straight face. You look her dead in the eyes and say, “No. Let her go.”

“Let me rephrase that for your sake: is there any way else you can put a wrench in my plans?”

“I’ve already told you, please, let her go, I don’t know anything!”

She lets out a small  tsk  and activates an intercom. The hellish screams that come through the loudspeaker make you cover your mouth in shock.

From the cell, you the two beetles had just dug their pincers into Tansey’s legs.

You launch yourself at the damning woman on impulse, and would’ve clawed and scratched any part of her you could reach had you laid hands on her, but Coriolanus is instantly on you, holding both your arms from behind and whispering to your ear, “Nellie, just do as she says.”

No...nonono...

“It’s in my desk drawer!”

Legs shaking, your knees buckle and you collapse to the floor as your confession dawns on you.  You just let go of your only way out of this mess...

Volumnia Gaul lets go of the intercom, cutting off the screaming in the cell.

“What was that, dear? I couldn’t quite hear that,” she taunts.

“It’s inside my desk drawer, it’s a floppy disk – please!”

You made a promise to Tansey, and you broke it.

“What’s in the disk?” Gaul asks through gritted teeth.

“A virus.”

“Who sent it?!”  She barks.

“I don’t know!” you shout back in despair. “It just came in the mail. Please, I already told you everything…”

Still on your knees with your hands being held back by the monster behind you, you keep your eyes trained on the other monster in the room. What a pitiful sight you must make, this helpless, as life is so casually thrown into the fray at their whim.

Gaul presses a button beside the cell’s intercom. In an instant, the beetles let go of the little girl and fall on their backs.

You exhale sharply in relief. 

It’s over. It’s alright, you soothe yourself. You will not cry, not in front of your enemies.

With an almost apologetic gentleness, Coriolanus helps you get on your feet. In the background, the vile woman you call your boss instructs someone through her communicuff to search your desk for the said floppy disk. You take a step back from your mentor and wait until the disk is taken to her office and Gaul locks it inside a coded safe.

Dr Gaul sighs cheerily as she addresses you both.

“I’m glad we’ve come to an agreement. Now that potential issues with the program have been dealt with, you can both go home. See you next week. The other gamemakers will be green with envy knowing the two of you got to try it first.”

She takes leisurely steps to one of her desks, humming to herself. Coriolanus bids her goodnight, but before you make your exit, you hear her call for your name. You almost ignore her.

“Ms Innis? I am promoting you to an official gamemaker post starting Monday. You are valuable to this team and to Mr Snow.”

And just like that, you find yourself shooed out of Volumnia Gaul’s office, out in the hallways and alone with him.

You begin your search for the elevator. Footfalls from behind you indicate he’s following.

“An official gamemaker…sugarplum, that makes you the youngest by just a few months. This is a milestone,” he praises. “It’s ten to eight, we can still make it to The White Knight, after all. We should celebrate.”

Your response is clipped. “No thank you, I have to go.”

“Go? We decided on dinner tonight. Where are you going?” He stops in front of you, but you sidestep him and increase your pace.

Unfortunately, he has longer strides than you, so he keeps with no difficulty.

“Nellie, what’s the matter? Hey, I’m talking to you and you’re being rude. I asked you where you’re going, so I expect an answer.”

When you refuse to reply, he grabs your arm to make you face him, but you shove them away.

“Away!” you retort. “Away from here, from - from her, away from  you ! As far away as I can. Anywhere but here with you is where the fuck I'm going.”

You intend to make a right turn even though you have zero idea where you’re going, but he grips your bicep this time and spins you around, forcing you between the wall and his towering frame. There is a stone column with a vase sitting on top of it on either side of you, effectively trapping you in all directions.

“You're not going anywhere until you tell me what's going on with you.”

The nerve of this man, acting like he has no clue. 

“Okay, I’ll humour that,” you scoff. You take a few deep breaths in an attempt to reel in your imminent outrage, but you don’t know how you can hold it in any longer. “First, you blackmail me, then you pressure me into situations I’m uncomfortable with, then you make me play that...thing, that god-awful thing, I get to relive the most horrible day of my life, and as if all that weren’t enough, you steal the only work – ”

“Hey now – ”

“ – I built that I can be proud of, and then take it apart to suit your perverse psychopathic little games...” you gasp for air and continue your tirade, “You hold me back and make me watch while that girl gets tortured – unhand me, you – you fucking – !”

“Calm down, sugarplum, this is simply just a panic attack – ”

“No, let me go – !”

A pair of lips capturing yours effectively cuts off your outburst. Coriolanus’s kiss is rough, one could even say desperate, but if he thinks he can silence you with one of his little mind games, he is sorely mistaken. You have spent what seems like forever bottling up every single emotion, but the cork has finally popped, and he will hear everything you have to say.

Even if that means facing the inevitable repercussions.

With all your strength, you push him away and finally lash out. Your palm hits his left cheek and the sharp slap echoes in the empty Citadel halls. He is visibly taken aback, and so are you, and yet it felt right. Vindictive, even.

“Don’t touch me,” you hiss, your curled fists shaking as you attempt to curtail it from delivering another blow. “I tried everything I could to keep you away from my uncle’s work. And to think it almost worked. All that time I spent with you after that day at the park, pretending you were still my friend, betraying my beliefs, painting on this face I fucking hated, playing this stupid game of yours... because that’s all this is to you. A game where you played me and you used me – ”

“‘Used you?’” Coriolanus lets out a derisive laugh. It must feel euphoric, finally letting go of that genial, affectionate facade he’s kept so perfectly around you. That’s right, let your true colours show.

“If it weren't for me,” he continues mockingly, his eyes crazed and devoid of any warmth. “You’d be rotting in that college for two more years, stuck with sorting essays and grading test papers. I brought you to the Citadel.

“I made you,” Coriolanus snarls and draws ever closer to you to drive his point. “I built you up to greater potential. Didn't you see what we just did there? We're right in the middle of the greatest breakthrough in the Games in years and here you are, throwing this childish little tantrum – ”

“This isn’t a tantrum, I’m just trying to make you see that this is wrong. We're killing people. Actual, living, breathing people! Or are too far gone to see this? My uncle and I built that program so you, and everyone else like you, could see that they’re all human. They were never just tributes, they’re no different from us – ”

“They’re nothing like us!” Coriolanus says sharply. “They wage war, they cause famine, they drive us to poverty, they kill your parents. They brought this upon themselves! The work we do is their reckoning and the Games put them in their place.”

You watch him clench and unclench his fist as he furrows his brow. He looks like he’s fighting a battle within himself with the way he gazes at you – bitter, enraged, disappointed, despondent, hurt; probably all at once. He sighs deeply, placing his hands gently on your shoulder as his fraught eyes bore into yours.

“We need these Games, Nellie. I need these games to work, and the most important thing: I need you there with me.” He cups your face to make you focus on him. 

But you refuse to be made a fool out of ever again.

“Nellie. Please.”

 He almost sounds like he’s begging. 

“Nellie, say something.”

Coriolanus Snow never begs, but how much of it exactly is real?

“I don't know you, Coriolanus Snow.”

You forcefully pry his hands away from you and take a step past him.

The next thing you know, you’re being squeezed by the bicep and pushed harshly against the wall, knocking the air out of your lungs in the process. All you can focus on is Coriolanus Snow’s frenzied eyes and his bared teeth, and the palpable fury emanating from him; for a second, that look of his churns your insides. You’ve never seen him this furious.

“You leave right now, and I will tell everyone about that letter. What’s going to happen to dear old Uncle Cas when he and everybody else find out his little niece had been consorting with a traitor?”

You get a lungful of air before responding with just as much scorn. “You want to play that card? Go ahead, I'm not scared anymore because I know my conscience is clear. Wish I could say the same of you. Now, this I can’t prove, and I could be wrong, but I think you had Sejanus killed. You want to know why I think that? 

“Because you’ve gone to such great lengths to blackmail me with that letter. And if I’m right, just the thought of it makes me sick.”

Perhaps you had not meant to sound so malicious, but so what?

“You usurped Sejanus’s place as the Plinth heir, you took his mother and father, you took everything from him.”

Coriolanus huffs and the corner of his lips curl into a sneer before he lets out a contemptuous guffaw. “So, that’s what this is, huh? Everything always has to be about him with you. The reason why you won’t let me do this is because you still love him,” he all but spits out the last three words as if the thought extremely repulsed him. Then he taunts, “Poor sensitive, foolish, dead Sejanus, stuck in District 12, Sejanus, rotting six fee – ”

“Fuck you, don’t you dare talk about him that way! Unhand me – !”

Your attempts to wrench yourself from his vice-like grip fail; he shakes your form, perhaps to make you see reason, and then he brings your foreheads together.

“Don't make me take drastic measures against you, Nellie,” he whispers with a gentleness you know is false. “Don’t make me do something we’ll both regret. But I can fix this. I can fix us. But only if you stay. Don't go. Stay with me.”

But you’ve made your decision. However you do it – whether it’s through a cordial resignation or through a virus; whatever happens when you do it – whether he reveals the truth about your letters to the world or sends you to the Districts in exile...

“I don’t ever want to see you again.”

Coriolanus Snow rewards this confession with another, harder slamming of your back against the wall, which earns an audible gasp of pain from you and clouds your vision with involuntary tears. It takes a few seconds for you to regain your composure just in time to see he’s pulled you closer, his face mere inches from yours.

“You’re not getting away from me.”

The way his whisper is laced with venom sends shivers down your spine, and the way his crazed, darkened gaze makes your blood run cold helps dawn on you the fact that he could simply murder you in cold blood right there and then and the Citadel would help him cover it up.

A set of incoming footsteps from your left alerts the both of you. He loosens his grip on your arms just as the footsteps grow closer.

It’s her. Who else can it be?

So, you take advantage of Coriolanus Snow’s momentary distraction and break away from him at last. You run to search for the elevator, and as you do, you hear the sound of something crashing on the floor followed by a loud yell of frustration. You ignore it entirely and keep your eyes peeled for the labels of each floor section until you eventually reach your target. You don’t even spare the accursed building a second glance the moment you’re out. You make a run for it.

You keep running along streets you barely recognise – your only concern is to ensure you’re several blocks away where he can’t catch up with you. And you only stop when you’re certain you’re hidden away in an alley while waiting for your breath to even out.

You’re okay, you assure yourself. You did the right thing. He can’t get to you anymore.

After puking your stomach inside-out behind a dumpster courtesy of the adrenaline rush, you crouch down and burst into sobs.

Coriolanus Snow stares vacantly at the broken pieces of china that litter the marble floor. 

He had been distracted. He had inadvertently loosened his grip on you, and you had run away from him.

The footsteps you both heard seconds before you ran come to a halt behind him, indicating the owner of the floor’s arrival. And based on her lack of a falsely cheery greeting, Coriolanus can tell she isn’t too pleased with your rather... spirited exchange.

“Mr Snow,” she chastises. “Is there a particular reason why you and your pet would make such a racket in my halls like pesky little children?”

“Dr Gaul,” he greets simply. He isn’t particularly fond of her, but at that very moment, he has never been happier to see her.

“Dr Gaul, I may need your help.”

In the safety of his luxury penthouse, Coriolanus Snow inwardly ponders on the many things that had gone wrong in matters concerning you.

Perhaps the first and most crucial of all of them is the fact that after you left, he had done what he had vowed himself not to for the past two years: he had fallen in love  again , and this time to a girl who seemed impervious to his charms, to his money, and to anything he does to make his affections mutual.

It’s hard to admit, but he had once again fallen trapped to the wiliness that is love – once more ensnared by its venomous fangs, latching onto him and spreading the disease throughout his body undetected until he was too far gone to do anything about it.

He recalls vaguely what Gaul had said about you at Strabo’s birthday party: something about you gaining little wings before flying off if he isn’t too careful.

Second: he’s fuming mad at himself for losing control over your defiance; angry at himself for falling in love again; resentful at you for giving him confusing feelings in the last few months, only to refuse him over and over.

He remembers Gaul questioning his selection of you as a potential partner. Suppose he could go back – would he choose another?

But even then, the idea of choosing anyone else other than you was laughable at best. So, no, he wouldn’t.

Maybe he could get out of this by killing you, but the more he thinks of it, the more he seems bothered by the thought of not sharing a life with you.

So, he can’t kill you, either. He’s gone too far with you and too far gone for you.

The third, however, seems unfair to pin on himself alone. He had dinner planned that night so he could reveal to the world that he intended to court you officially. If the public sees this display, you and your meddling uncle would be pressured into accepting him – after all, what would it look like to the Capitol if you refused the one and only Snow heir's advances despite his pure intentions?

That’s why your refusal to stay with him that night – your refusal  of him – led to an outburst he hadn’t been able to control. It had hurt like you stabbed him in his heart, just watching the look of hatred on your face directed at him, seeing a hint of fear in those pretty eyes of yours as you looked at him. And the way you went on a rage after he had insulted Sejanus, making him unwittingly discover that you still loved him? Cherry on fucking-top. 

But that love rightfully belongs to him, not to a mere boy rotting in the ground who only got so much as a kiss from you before he got himself killed for his folly.

It seems like Sejanus is still sabotaging his future from beyond the grave.

Had he been expecting his initial platonic attachment for you to grow? If he’s being honest with himself, he indeed had anticipated this somewhat. What he wasn’t prepared for was how he’d see you in a different light after spending that much time with you.

He’s seen the kind of girl you are: smart, headstrong, and brave; despite everything you’ve gone through, despite your apparent fear of seeing people get injured and die, you had no qualms standing up for your principles, no matter how misdirected some of those are. You had no problem standing up to him and to Volumnia Gaul a while back – an act that even he admits takes the purest form of daring-do.

And then he brought you home that night, witnessing your turmoil in your sleep.

His girl, so beautiful and smart and courageous, but also so damaged and vulnerable and exposed to him…

If he could do anything, anything, just so you wouldn’t have to cry for your mother and father in your sleep; just so you wouldn’t have to dream about the pain of losing your loved ones and fear for their safety all the time...

But then, he gets the picture: he can do something. Coriolanus Snow has the power to make sure the people who were responsible for your parents’ deaths are put in their rightful place and face their true nature.

That’s what the Games are for.

In a way, he’s trying to change the Games for you.

That being said, what is his next move? Surely he isn’t beyond using everything in his arsenal to make you see who you belong to, including eliciting the help of a fearsome figure, even if it means owing her a huge favour. Dr Gaul, the said figure, sent him home that night with a two-inch thick covert rebel force intelligence report tucked in his suitcase. He needs to study this file from cover to cover and he needs to act fast.

To keep a bird in its cage, he needs to clip its wings.

So, from behind his desk and aided with a huge pot of freshly brewed coffee, Coriolanus steels himself for a long sleepless night ahead and opens the folder. His interest is instantly piqued when he sees a name he’d never thought he’d see smack-dab on the front page of a top-secret rebel force intelligence file:

Acacius E. Innis.

Enter Level 11

Author notes:

Please reblog and comment, it's always appreciated!

Someone had kindly asked me for Nellie's family history, so we'll know more of that (including our beloved Uncle Cas's) next level :D

[therealvinelle]

What is the largest vampire population possible before they get exposed?

Relevant post in which I calculate how many vampires exist in canon.

I think this might already be answered by canon, in that vampires have expanded as much as they can before the population control that is the Volturi struck.

Any given vampire who wishes to survive, must either find his own hunting territory or join up with others. If he chooses the former, he can either find unclaimed territory, kill those already there, or strike up a deal that those already there will relinquish some of their territory to him. If he chooses the latter, he will either find a coven with sufficient territory that one more vampire makes no difference, in which case the coven can continue accepting members (or relinquishing territory to neighbors) until they are at capacity, or his newfound coven will expand their territory.

All this to say: there is a limit to how many humans can be hunted at any one time before the Volturi will react, and the number of vampires in the world will naturally fall to somewhere around that limit. Sometimes just over it, at which point the hammer falls and we're under it, then the number creeps up again.

In my linked post I estimated 150 vampires at the lowerst and 500 at the highest. 150 vampires gives a minimum of 3900 people killed by vampires per year, assuming each vampire eats one person every fortnight, 500 vampires gives a minimum of 13000 people killed per year. Those 13000 people are 0.0001 of the world's population, the human race can survive just fine without- trouble being each of these deaths must go by without questions being asked. Spread across the world, evenly distributed throughout the year, in a world where disappearance and murder rates have always been higher than they are in our non-Twilight world, that's doable- but I think any more and we'd be at the pain limit, not to mention the Volturi would be stretched too thin keeping ~500 vampires in check.

So, I stand by my estimate in the linked post of 150 at the lowest and 500 at the very highest, likely someplace in between.

[lokisprettygirl]

Utopia (Modern! Daemon Targaryen x female reader) (Non Canon AU) (18+)

Read chapter 5 here // Series Masterlist

Chapter 6

Summary: Daemon doesn't show up for the date but he makes up for it.

Warning: 18+ sex ,period sex (if it bothers you skip the scene) death and destruction that comes from a ship wreckage, smut, sex, menstrual sex, unprotected sex. Some inconsistency with ship sinking, i researched as much as I could

You sat there on the couch for half an hour before you began fiddling, when the clock finally hit 8 you realized he wasn't going to come. He didn't even call or text to inform you that he won't be coming and that's what hurt you the most because you had hoped that he cared at least that much. You were expecting such courtesy after what you both have been through together.

Perhaps he changed his mind or perhaps he realized that he was still in love with Lily. Your eyes welled up as you thought about that possibility, you didn't want to be that person, you didn't want to be someone to come between two lovers but a part of you always knew that Lily didn't care about him as much as he cared about her. Wasn't it supposed to go both ways? Ships sink, planes crash and in those moments she'd always pick herself up first.

As the clock struck 9 you felt the familiar churning in your uterus and knew there won't be any dates today even if he did show up miraculously. You grabbed a sanitary pad from the closet and made your way to the bathroom, cursing his stupid face throughout the way as tears filled your eyes.

You knew you were about to burst into a fit of cry sooner or later.

Around 9:30 while you were preparing a cup of tea after ingesting a pain killer you finally heard the doorbell ring. Taking a deep breath you crossed your arms, and stared at the door for a moment to make him sweat before you decided to answer it.

And Why did he have to look sooo hot?

You were mad at him. Completely furious but he had a maroon shirt on with the top few buttons opened that showed the silver of white satin skin, fitted black pants, his hair was ruffled in that ' i either had sex or a strenuous workout' way. He leaned against the door frame as he looked at you up and down, you still had that stupid black dress on. The bouquet of flowers he brought wasn't going to fix anything if he had fucked Lily and was swept back into her charms.

“What do you want?” You asked him so he gave you the flowers, you grabbed it and threw it behind you, feeling awful for doing that to those poor flowers but you were raged in the moment.

“Can I explain?” He asked you as he sighed deeply.

“Go on”

“Can I come in at least?” he mumbled as he stepped closer to you so you took a step back but he grabbed you by the waist and stopped you from moving, his body pressed against yours as he closed the door behind him.

“You could have called that you weren't coming” your teeth gritted as spoke to him, anger visible in your voice.

“But i wanted to come and I'm here” he answered nonchalantly and that only spiked your irritability.

“You're 3 hours late”

“I have a reason for that”

“Did you fuck her?” his brows furrowed in slight offense as you asked him.

“Noooo”

Your heart felt still for a moment as he diffused your fears, you were so sure that he was with her, fucking her and realising that he was still madly in love with her. As your eyes welled up he grabbed your chin between his fingers and made you look up at him.

“I'm sorry i have let you down” his tone was gentle now and somehow that made you feel even worse about the situation.

“Why didn't you come? Did you change your mind?” your lips trembled as you struggled to keep your emotions in check. The thought of Lily being the reason for his absence was too much to bear.

“Do you think I'd look like this if I had changed my mind?” You looked him up from head to toe as he said that as if you weren't checking him out as soon as you had opened the door. “I was on my way when Lily called and told me that she had slipped in the bathroom. I thought that I'd take her to the hospital and still be here on time but it took longer than i had expected” you shrugged as he said that to you. What a convenient fall that was from Lily, you felt so selfish in the moment but you were extremely jealous and hurt.

“Why didn't you text or call?”

“I left my phone at her place when I picked her up so I had to go back.. good because now I have your number memorized” he mumbled softly as he placed his hands on your shoulders to pull you closer.

“You memorized my number?”

“Mmmhm..you should too”

“Okay” you both stared at each other for a moment before he cupped your cheeks. You felt a surge of emotions as he slowly leaned in and kissed you, a gentle kiss that seemed to melt away all the tension and anger between you.

“Ummm is she okay?” you asked him as you realized that you might have overreacted a bit and had allowed your emotions to get the best of you.

“Her right leg is fractured but she'll be okay”

“How do you feel about that?”.

“Fine? She's going to be alright”

“I'm still upset for some reason” you told him honestly because you didn't want to pretend as if him not showing up wasn't affecting you at all now that you knew the reason behind it.

“I'll fix that”

He picked you up in his arms and turned around to press you against the door to kiss you again, this kiss wasn't as gentle though, it was heated, full of passion and needy.

“I really wanted to treat you right baby..I'm sorry” he mumbled against your mouth so you curled your fingers around his neck.

“It's okay..you can treat me right.. here”

“Sure can” as he lifted up your dress you placed your hand on his.

“I'm on my periods”

“So?”

He put you down and pulled your underwear down and placed it on the dresser next to you , grabbing your waist by one hand. He slipped his other hand between your thighs, teasing you until you couldn't take it anymore and had to buck your hips into his palm. Your fingers clutched on his biceps as you tried to stifle the shameless moans that were erupting due to his skilled ministrations.

He leaned down and sucked a mark on your neck as he continued to rub your lips, mixing your dripping arousal with the blood. Your fingers traced down as you felt the bulge in his pants rubbing against your midsection, that's how close he was squished against you.

“Hold your dress up for me darlinn” his words came out almost in that of a drunken slur but his voice was sharp and commanding so you quickly grabbed the hem of your dress to lift it up, a loud moan escaped your throat as he wiped his bloody wet fingers all over your thighs, making sure to clean it well before he unzipped himself hurriedly as if he couldn't go a second longer without fucking you right against this wall.

His cock was hard and leaking already as he rubbed the tip over your clit repeatedly, your arms wrapped around his neck as he lifted you up swiftly and entered you in one quick motion.

“Mmm is this good sweetheart..you alright?” You bit on your lips as you noticed the concern evident in his voice,

“I am in heaven..keep going please”

“Oh you sound so sweet like that love..do it again won't you?” He mumbled in your ears as he teased you with his torturously slow thrusts of the hips.

“Please Daemon..i..need you to keep going please” you mumbled sweetly, your voice went higher and turned more sensual than he had ever heard from you.

“I'd do anything for you if you'd speak to me in such a way”

Your hands wandered to grab his gorgeous ass, they were always begging to be held. He let out a grunt as you squeezed those cheeks.

This was new, he knew that, he also knew the raw electric passion he felt in the moment would fizzle with time like how it did with Lily but the way you had your arms around him and how tightly you were holding onto him, you'd continue to hold him in the same manner right?

Even when the sex would become a routine between you two he hoped that you'd still look into his eyes when he's making love to you and and he hoped that you'd look at him with the same passion you had in your eyes right this very moment.

He really hoped so, he really wished for this feeling to never end.

He didn't want to fall out of love again, certainly not with the woman who had risked everything for him..

“Why did you come darling?” He whispered in your ear as his thrusts slowed down again.

“When? Last night ? Because you're so good at this..?” he chuckled and pressed a soft kiss on your lips before his expressions turned serious.

“That night..you came for me..why? You'd have been on that lifeboat with the rest of our friends..far away from the wreckage if you hadn't done that. Why did you do it?”

Your eyes teared up as he questioned you ..

“Because you came for me first, remember?” you caressed his cheek with your fingers as you answered him even though it wasn't the complete truth.

“I was right next to you. I didn't't do you any favor. What you did was risky and life threatening..you could have died” his grip around your waist tightened as if he was afraid of losing you like that.

“No regrets..i..think about that moment a lot..that one fraction of a second where I see myself standing on the top of the deck with our friends and thinking if I had made a different choice.. the one where i never ran after you and that thought scares me because..i picture you all alone on that Island and it breaks my heart..” his own eyes welled up as tears rolled down your cheeks, his lips wiped those tears away and he picked up his pace again.

Every inch of his presence was burning with constant hunger for you, he was all inside you at the moment then how come he was still not satisfied? How come he still felt so hollow as if he wasn't already submerged so deeply into you?

He has been in love before and it wasn't a fleeting sort of love either but what he was feeling in the moment was something so magically profound, a feeling he had never really experienced before.

That wasn't it though, what astonished him was the fact that he never wanted to experience this again with anyone else either, he wanted you to be it, from now to the end.

As he came so suddenly inside you, your walls clamped around him and milked every drop of cum he had to offer. Your mind felt hazy as you convulsed against him, everytime he made you cum you felt your soul leaving your body for a moment.

You were still soaking in the orgasmic bliss when he took you to the bedroom and laid you down on the bed, after cleaning himself up he came back with a wet napkin to clean you thoroughly, then he went into the living room to grab your panties.

“Do you need me to change the pad sweetheart?” he asked you softly so you denied,

“No, I have hardly bled on it” he proceeded to pull it up your legs. On the island you were using the same two pieces of clothes every month, you'd wash the other one and Daemon would keep it in the sun to disinfect it as much as possible, sometimes the life you lived on the island didn't even feel real, it felt like a nightmare or a dream depending on the situation.

“Had Dinner?” He asked you as he laid down next to you so you shook your head “Want me to cook?” He questioned, making you giggle in response.

“You can cook?”

“I have fed you that slightly charred fish for months.. of course I cook”

Before you could answer him he received a call from Cole, they were at Lily's place to check up on her and he was surprised that Daemon wasn't tending to her needs on hands and feet.

“Don't you think you're being a bit of an arse?” Cole said to him on the phone and Daemon excused himself away from you as he didn't want to have this conversation in front of you.

“What are you on about mate?” He asked Cole as his jaw clenched, he didn't really appreciate the snarky tone Cole was using with him.

“She's hurt and crying..come on..it's Lily..your Lily” Cole reminded him as if it was something Daemon could ever forget.. Daemon and Lily, that's how people always knew them together but he wasn't the same man anymore.

“I took her to the hospital and brought her back home..what else am i supposed to do?” he asked Cole in a frustrated voice, he didn't want to get tangled into her selfish mess again, not when life had something so precious and selfless to offer to him. Only a fool would let go of a woman like you, he wanted to move on from that failed relationship and explore the depth of this thing between you two.

“She's not wrong you know..You have changed man..” Cole chuckled and it only angered him further.

“Yeah well live on a fucking uninhabited island for months and then preach to me” he hung up the phone and when he turned around you were leaning against the bedroom door with a small comforting smile on your face.

“You should go check on her..she's hurt”

“Oh..I'll go but you're coming with me”

“Daemon –”

“Just come..let's just tell them about us yeah?”

“Us?” You asked him so he walked towards you and placed his arms on your sides, you had no option but to look up at his tall frame.

“Us..me and you..Us” you bit on your lips as he said that, he had a way of making you feel all flushed and warm with his words, one of the reasons why you were even attracted to him in the first place.

“Okay…Calm down cavemon” he was huffing and puffing about something so you traced your fingers over his chest, the half unopened shirt gave you plenty to play with.

“Doesn't it bother you? The way they're treating us? The way everyone is treating us?” he spoke solemnly so you sighed deeply as you truly resonated with the frustration he felt regarding the matter.

“Treating us as if we have just returned from a long isolated vacation? Yes it does bother me” you cupped his cheeks to make him look at you “But it's not their fault, they won't understand..for them the ship sinking was the worst of it all and it was a huge trauma in itself and they went on with their lives thinking that we were dead. But we aren't, we are back.. alive and well..so it's as if nothing had ever happened to us, they think we suffered the same as they did but it's not the same and it won't be the same. But you can't expect them to understand that. We ate fruits and fish everyday and slept on the bed of leaves..they hear those details of our survival and they think it was easy and that's okay..let them think that we had it easy”

He placed his forehead down on yours as you finished speaking, your soft soothing voice melted in his ears like honey.

“Are you always this wise?”

“Mmmhm” you smiled before you kissed him softly “Do you feel betrayed by Lily? Is it anger that's making you drift away from her?”

“Not her first time when she looked out for herself only. She was scared when she realized what was happening on the ship..I understand that..it's just hurtful that I didn't cross her mind even once”

“I'd feel the same way”

He didn't want to go see her tonight so while he attempted to cook you grabbed those poor flowers and placed them in a vase as you mumbled softly apologies to the mother nature for the disrespect, then you cuddled him on the bed to make him feel better. Daemon, not the flowers.

However, you awoke in the middle of the night to the sound of Daemon's pen scratching the paper. Despite your curiosity, you refrained from disturbing him, assuming he was in the midst of writing a song or a piece of music. So you simply snuggled closer to him, taking comfort in his presence as you drifted back to sleep.

It was surreal having no jobs but having all that money that would feed you well even if you never work again. It wasn't really the employment you needed but the passion for the art you felt so strongly about before your life changed so drastically..

The following day, much to your displeasure you went to go see Lily with Emma but you could tell she wasn't at all happy about your presence there and as soon as you had stepped inside her house you regretted your silly decision of coming here, you two would never become friends, even more so now that you were with Daemon. As Emma excused herself to go make coffee the air around you both tensed even more.

“Thanks for the flowers..they're my favorite” she said to you as she grabbed a cigarette. The way Daemon spoke about her you really thought she was against his smoking.

“I know.. Daemon told me..i hope you're feeling better” she smiled as you mentioned him.

“Of Course he knows me more than anyone..Do you mind or want one?” she pointed towards the cigarette so you denied.

“No and no..thank you though” you gave her a polite smile in the hope that Emma would return soon and rescue you from this uncomfortable situation.

“Look y/n..I like you and I feel for you..that tragedy was hard on all of us but me and Daemon..we are like soulmates. People come and go..but in the end it's me and him for each other. I'm telling you all this because I don't want you to get hurt by him eventually and then end up hating me for the rest of your life” she spoke softly. Despite her gentle tone, you felt the jab of her words and the dismissive attitude towards your relationship with Daemon.

“Okay ummm..maybe you should talk to him about this because I don't think he's on the same page as you anymore”

You mumbled as politely as you could as you didn't really want to offend her in her own space and her well crafted delusions but it was apparent that your words had bothered her greatly..

Her smile dissipated for a moment but she quickly recovered and gave you a sly retort. And then she said something to you that hurt you to the core especially after what he had said to you last night about you and him being Us.

“I don't think so..i don't think he'd have made love to me last night if he wasn't on the same page as me..he's just upset but he'll get over it.. he's my Daemon i know him”

👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

Note : Raise your hands if you think she lying.

Taglist

@mcufan72 @123forgottherest @shuichiakainx @stupidthoughtsinwriting @tmlbdv

@ammo23

[spookyspecterino]

Grunt Work

Sam Coe x GN! Reader

GN! Reader. No pronouns, no use of Y/N, or reader descriptions used. Reader is referred to as Captain sometimes, like in the game.

Canon typical violence: blood, injury, mentions of death, guns, language, romance, kissing. All PG-13.

Spoilers for the “Grunt Work” Quest

It’s the very first UC Vanguard quest. If you haven’t played it yet, I highly recommend it. Out of my 20-ish hours playing it’s my favorite so far.

No spoilers for the end of game (I haven’t even gotten close to it yet) or anything to do with Sam Coe’s romance questline (I haven’t finished that either).

Non-spoiler summary for this fic/quest:

Reader and Sam Coe go to Tau Ceti II to check up on the settlers in the Tau Gormet Production Center.

More descriptions of the fic with a more specific summary below the cut. I’m being very specific about spoilers because for most people, myself included, we’ve only had the game for a week.

More specific summary of this fic/quest:

The UC Vanguard sends you on a routine mission to check in on a settler colony on Tau Ceti II—it turns out to be anything but routine. With Sam Coe at your side, your first Vanguard mission is a baptism by fire.

Characters: Hadrian, Sam Coe, Vasco (mentions of other characters: Cora Coe and Barret)

“Vasco, do a quick comms check for me. I want to make sure it’s working after it glitched out on the last planet.”

The tall robot makes some beeping and whirring noises. The way it stares into nothing bothered you at first, but after some time you’d gotten used to it—even appreciating how it followed commands without hesitation. Over by the ships on and off-boarding ramp, Sam says goodbye to Cora. A smile spreads across your face as you watch them.

The Frontier’s external lighting illuminates the surrounding landing site. An otherworldly moon hangs in the night sky. You take one more moment to do a last check of your pack’s contents. This was going to be a routine check-in mission, but it never hurt to be safe than sorry.

“Comms are operational, Captain.”

“Thank you.” You wave goodbye to Cora who smiles and waves back before returning to the Frontier. “Comms are good Sam, ready to go?”

Your companion saunters over with that signature ranger’s confidence. “Always.”

“Great. I think I’ve got everything. Vasco, have I got everything?”

“Scanning now.”

Sam shifts from foot to foot. “Storm’s rolling in.” He comments, looking into the distance. “I’d like to get there before it starts raining.”

Sure enough, muted thunder rolls on the horizon and the wind picks up a touch.

“Yeah, yeah. Hold your horses, cowboy.”

“I don’t even know what a horse looks like.” He mumbles.

Vasco beeps affirmatively. “The necessary items are present, Captain. However, you are carrying more than the recommended amount.”

You sling your pack over your shoulder with a grin, ignoring the second part. “Thanks Vasco. You know, for a second there Sam, I thought you were going to say something about your joints hurting.”

“Ha ha. I’m not that old.”

You make a teasing face at him as you start heading toward the compound’s lights in the distance. The trek isn’t bad, mostly flat terrain with a few rocks here and there. The wind continues to pick up, carrying the scent of rain.

Sam hops over a rock, taking his place by your side. “Not to sound too over-eager to get this Vanguard busy work out of the way, but, where’s our next stop after this?”

“I was thinking we could explore the rest of this system. How’s that sound?”

“You know me, no complaints here.”

A radio tower comes into view, red lights along the sides flashing periodically. Beyond it is the main compound.

“Oh, Cora asked to keep an eye out on books specifically about ship reactors. She thinks she can fix ours.”

You hike your pack higher on your shoulder, already feeling the soreness. Blast your incessant need to carry every type of weapon part with you at all times. “I’ll be on the look-out. If she can save me a few credits and fix it herself, she’s welcome to try.”

“She’s a brilliant kid, but let’s do it on a planet with an actual mechanic who can make sure it works after. I have faith in her, but she’s 11 and you can’t learn everything from books—”

“Hold up. Sam. Stop.”

He freezes, noticing your stock-still posture, eyes fixed on the wide-open doors of the radio tower. Bright light filters out into the night.

“Does that look like a body to you?” you ask him, pointing toward a slumped over shape laying against a supply crate.

“Sure does.”

Unholstering your pistol, you both crouch and move closer. The grass underfoot sways in the wind.

It’s a grisly scene. Multiple bodies litter the area. All settlers—dressed in civilian working clothes. Blood splatters dot the concrete, some trail back to a body. Sam whistles, short and low, to get your attention. He’s looking inside. On the table is a settler, face up, arms splayed out and gutted. Clothes stained a vibrant red. Deep claw marks gouge out sections of the floor.

“No bullets, no casings in sight.” He murmurs close to your ear. “And it’s all fresh.”

You don’t need to look at him to know he shares your particular anxiety. “Let’s check out the main compound.”

Moving out of the small building and down toward the tar mac, you’re about to say something about the wrecked ship when an alien scream interrupts you. It sets every hair on end. Never have you heard a sound like that, even on the many planets you’ve explored.

In little to no time after the scream, a sharp static crackles over your comms, making you jump. Sam shuffles closer, crouched low next to you. If the situation wasn’t so tense, he may have chuckled, but he stays frozen and somber faced.

“I am so glad to see you.” The voice, a woman’s, sounds heavy with relief. “I think it knows you’re here. Hurry up to the second-floor office, I’ll unlock the door.”

As you make your way into the compound, it feels like walking straight into the lion’s den. Every sense is on high alert. Lightning flashes, making you see things in the shadows that aren’t really there. Only Sam’s presence behind you keeps you level-headed.

The brightly lit, glass windowed office only makes you feel worse, like a sitting duck on display.

“I’m Hadrian.” The woman introduces herself curtly while holding her side. “Are you my saving grace?”

“Not exactly. I’m UC Vanguard—sent to check in on the settlers.”

“Well shit.” She leans against the table, eyes closed in pain.

“Please don’t tell me we’re dealing with a Terrormorph here.” Sam asks, beating you to the punch.

She sighs. “Unfortunately, yes.”

“Shit. That’s bad news, Captain. Real bad.”

“Listen,” Hadrian starts, moving away from the table, “I know you’re just two people, but you have to help me kill this thing.”

“And why’s that? Why don’t we all just leave now?” You ask.

“It’s unique. It showed up way too early. Tau Ceti’s only been colonized for 20 years. If this is a new kind of Terrormorph that matures faster and shows up earlier, we need to know.”

“Damnit.” You hiss. “Terrormorphs that show up after only 20 years of colonization could wipe humanity off the map.”

“Exactly.”

Rain begins to fall on the large windows with a clatter. The rolls of thunder were becoming booming clashes now. Visibility was already reduced at night, but now the storm made things worse.

You relent, giving up any notions of leaving. “Alright. I’ll help. Got any ideas on how to kill it?”

Sam’s eyeing you particularly hard from where he stands.

“Yeah, turrets. But we need to bring them back online and get them powered up. The terminal’s on ground level at the far end of the warehouse.”

Sam grunts. “So, closer to the Terrormorph?”

“I’m not sure where it is right now. My best guess is it’s still around the outer edge of the facility. But there’s a tracking system you can use on one of the terminals.”

You run a hand over your face. “Ok. Tracker and turrets. That’s better than nothing. I can make do”

“Radio me when you’ve reset the system and I’ll calibrate it from here. Thank you for helping and good luck.”

You and Sam sneak out one of the office doors into the warehouse. Fat raindrops fall on the metal roof, amplifying the sound into a loud drumming. It doesn’t come close to the volume of your heartbeat in your ears.

“Vasco, come in.”

“Reporting, Captain.”

“Initiate full lockdown on the ship. Tell Cora we ran into some trouble and are taking necessary precautions. If she seems worried, give her a book from my locker.”

“Yes Captain.”

You shut off comms and sling your pack from around your shoulders, attempting a commanding tone that you’ve always needed to fake. “Sam Coe.”

His usual raspy, low voice is layered with apprehension. “Captain?”

You’re pulling out weapon pieces from your pack for your rifle. They’re big—heavy duty—and add a decent amount of weight to the gun. “Go back to the ship.”

“I had a hunch you were gonna pull something like this. No. No way.”

“That’s an order—”

“Don’t try that with me. You know it ain’t gonna work.”

You pause, just as you’re changing out the rifle’s .50 Cal magazine with a 9x39mm eight round clip. “Sam.”

“I’m staying.”

His eyebrows are furrowed. Mouth slanted in a stubborn, almost angry frown. You’d have to dig deep. “Cora can’t lose you.”

“You always pull that card. It’s lost its affect.”

“…I can’t lose you either.”

You’ve never used that before and quite frankly are surprised to hear it come out of your mouth. Maybe it’s too soon. Up until now, you and Sam have only been flirting—no real feelings or moves have been made. It’s a bit of a jump, but you’re sincere.

His eyes hold yours unflinchingly. The crease on his forehead lessens a little. “Then you know how I feel and why I’m staying right here.”

He’s one-upped you and you weren’t prepared for it. You murmur a “Damit Sam” and go back to modifying your rifle. Fighting is pointless, and his admission has your nerves shaken more than you’d like. “Stay glued to my side unless I say otherwise. If things turn sideways and I order you back to the ship, you’d better listen. Got it?”

“Understood, Captain.”

“I mean it.”

A hint of his familiar smile returns. “I heard ya.”

“And Sam…”

“Hm?”

“No heroics.”

He doesn’t respond, his brows pinch together again. It’ll have to do.

Moving through the warehouse went excruciatingly slow. At all times you wished you could just get up and run instead, but it would signal the monster almost immediately. The whole situation made you feel like you were prey, scared and small. The addition of Sam’s presence put a heavy responsibility on your shoulders and that made you even more careful.

Hadrian was on your comms as soon as the system was reset. She directed you to the tracker frequency tuner in the same room. While finding the frequency, the system went into high alert—detecting the major threat. Your watch begins beeping steadily, and then rapidly speeds up. The Terrormorph was getting closer to your position.

Your eyes met Sam’s just as the alien appeared on the roof of the building outside. Right in sight from the room’s windows you were in. A rough hand yanks you down to the ground. Sam is crouched damn near on top of you, shotgun aimed up at it. However, it doesn’t notice you two in the dark room. You slowly cover the watch face to try and muffle the beeping sound. Maybe it was the rain, or the creature was just playing games, but it moved on past to a different part of the facility. Loud footsteps fading as it leaves. The radar lessens to a low, steady beat.

“Hadrian, come in.”

“I read you. The turrets are going to need their power sources reset with the security system in lockdown.”

“Great.” Sam sighs, lowering his gun. His shoulder leans into yours as he gets closer.

“We’ll find them. Out here.”

Reaching for your rifle, your hands visibly shook. You can feel Sam’s watchful gaze.

“Last chance to leave.” You whisper, aimlessly checking over your gun. You feel his hand squeeze your shoulder reaffirming.

“Not happening.”

The first power source wasn’t hard to find. You took the slow route, keeping an ear out for any changes in the radar frequency. The power switch was like a beacon, a big red switch on a yellow panel—it stuck out like a sore thumb. When you flipped it lights came on, loudspeakers announced to stand back…and the radar went nuts.

“Out, out, out!” You hiss, pushing Sam toward the far end door. He doesn’t need to be told twice as he beelines it.

With Sam leading, you follow him, scrambling up onto the roof of the building near the turrets. Two of the six are online now. Two more switches and you’ll have a fighting chance. Maybe.

Behind you, further in the facility, things crash. For now, it seems you’re safe.

You huff, lightening the death grip you have on your rifle. “Ok, here’s the plan. We’re going to split up.”

“I’m not gonna like this am I?”

“Take the watch. Find the power sources. I’ll create a distraction.”

“No.”

“Sam…” you exhale, closing your eyes. Despite the sheer terror you feel, you manage a chuckle. “We’re not going to get anything done if you keep arguing with me.”

“Let me create the distraction.”

“No.”

“Now who’s arguing?”

“Your shotgun has no range—it’s effectively useless, you’d be dead in two seconds.”

“Fair point. Then give me your rifle, I’m a good shot.”

You’re already unclasping your watch’s band from around your wrist. “I’m not taking the risk.”

“What if I wanna take the risk?”

Shuffling over while still crouched, you bring his arm closer. The watch slides on and you make sure to fasten it tightly. “You already know I won’t let you. At least now you can radio Vasco if…”

It didn’t need to be said.  

He looks at the device and back to you. “Why is this startin’ to feel like you’re on a suicide mission?”

You can’t look at him or you’d lose the last of your nerve. “I’ll be on that walkway over there. It’ll have to run through the turrets to get to me and they’ll still have a shot when it tries to climb up.”

The way Sam chews his cheek really underlines how unhappy he is with this plan of yours. “Remind me to have a word with you about your savior complex when this is all over.”

“Hm. I’m looking forward to it.”

A gentle hand wraps around your arm. His eyes are soft, pleading. His other hand cups your face, it’s rough and calloused, but warm. “If you need to run, then run. You don’t have to die for some Vanguard that sends you on a ‘routine’ mission they were too lazy to check first—or for a colony full of dead settlers. Ok? I want you back, with me, alive, and in one piece.”

You don’t trust yourself enough to speak, something sappy or cheesy may decide to come out, so you simply nod.

It isn’t enough for him. “Please, say you’ll come back to me. I need to hear you say it.”

If he wasn’t so close, he may not have heard you through the pounding rain. “I’ll come back to you.” You pretended that you meant it, that you believed it.

“Thank you.” His hand falls away to hold his shotgun. “Now let’s kill this thing.”

“Be safe.” You manage before turning and heading toward your position. The chill of the rain creeps through your spine, but the warmth from Sam’s hand lingers on your cheek. You try to hold onto that feeling.

The steel walkway is sturdy and grated, giving you a good vantage point of the surrounding area. Once in position, you set up your rifle and lay flat, adjusting the scope. Lightning flashes, the crash of thunder isn’t far behind it. Water runs down your face and you wipe it hastily to keep it from your eyes.

The bright fire of the flare casts everything in red. With a good toss, it lands directly in the middle of the kill lanes. Bringing out your pistol you shoot once, twice, up into the air. The alien screams and the sound of wrenching, tearing metal draws near.

The hulking creature appears at the far end of the kill lanes, focused on the flare. It’s huge, big enough to fill your scope’s sights. You breathe deep and exhale slowly as you take your first shot.

The round hits the Terrormorph square in the back leg, crippling it for a moment. Blood leaks out onto the ground below. It lurches before regaining balance on its five other legs, letting out an enraged roar.

More lights come on in the facility. Sam’s already found one power breaker. Two more turrets begin to flash and come online.

The monster’s head swings in a different direction. Toward Sam, no doubt. The realization fuels you with a cold fury. You crank the rifle’s bolt-lever, a long bullet casing flies out of the chamber with a cling. Sliding the lever back with a heavy clunk you even your breath and prepare to take another shot.

You take it, aiming for its other back leg, but miss—the shot glances off the ground. Six shots left.

The thing’s giant head swings back to stare at you directly. Through your scope it’s as if you’re staring it directly in the eyes. Its front legs stomp the ground, and it roars. It ambles forward right into the kill lanes. Four turrets open fire, knocking it off balance and sending it sprawling momentarily. You take another shot, this time severing its thinner front limb.

The thing howls, ear splittingly loud and shrill, but claws its way back onto its feet. The turrets are doing damage, but it isn’t enough. It lurches toward you with surprising speed. The turret fire follows. You take a shot and miss. You exhale and your breath comes out shaking.

It's at the base of the building your walkway is on as Sam flips the final switch and the last of the turrets power up. The Terrormorph slows down a little, struggling to climb the building with two of its limbs missing. You have another 130 seconds, maybe, before it reaches you.

Your fifth shot hits it in the back, effectively doing nothing. The thing is bloody and losing steam from the constant onslaught of all six turrets. You start to feel hopeful. There’s movement to your left. It’s Sam on one of the rooftops. You’re about to give him a thumbs up when lightning flashes—some of the facility machines spark, an alarm sounds, and all lights except for auxiliary backups flatline. An unlucky power surge from the storm.

The Terrormorph has reached the base of the walkway below and is trying to make its way up, now free from turret fire. This would be your chance to run, but something holds you there. A false hope maybe.

You hold your breath, take a shot, and hit it square in the face. It doesn’t stop, clawing at the thin metal for purchase. Pulling the bolt lever and sliding it home, you fire again, chipping its other back leg and causing it to stumble. Metal rails groan and collapse under the monster’s weight. It falls to the ground with a metallic crash. You don’t fire, yet.

Sam is still on the other roof. You wave him off, pointing to the ship. Trying to make it clear that this was the order to run. A clashing sound below snags your attention back to the monster. It’s testing out the strength of the rail supports.

You’re aiming again as it springs up and begins throwing its weight at the steel rods. The vibration of the metal groaning and shifting with each impact reverberates through you. This is your last shot.

You fire and miss entirely as a section of rails to your right collapse and bend, tugging your section down. You’re forced to let go of your rifle to hang on. It clatters to the ground below.

More support beams collapse and you can feel the structure groan before you even hear it, vibrating hard enough to numb your hands. Trying to climb up the tilting walkway was a mistake as the shift in weight caused the whole thing, with you attached, to fall entirely. The feeling of falling was short-lived, something sharp sliced at your leg as you fell into the railing and walkway debris below.

For a moment, you lay dazed and in pain. The sound of rain patters around you on metallic surfaces. The whole walkway and railing fell over, the area was littered with jutted angles and metal parts. Something shifted under the debris. Something big enough to toss heavy metal away with ease. Any hope of the Terrormorph getting crushed by the impact was gone as it reared back and screamed. Its eyes, all six or seven of them, landed on you.

There was no way of escaping, debris had fallen over you. A particularly large beam held you in place on your back. Your pistol, the last line of defense, dug into your hip uncomfortably.

Sensing it had you trapped, the creature took its time closing the distance. Your leg was devoid of all feeling except a vague sensation of warmth spreading around it. The rails on top of you pinned you down, but you managed to free your measly pistol.

Only three or four of your shots made contact, others glanced off the Terrormorph’s armored shoulders or missed entirely. Either way, the low caliber did nothing to it. With an empty mag, and nothing else to defend yourself with, your arm fell to your side. You just hoped Sam was smart enough to listen and go back to the ship.

A loud blast caught the monster on the side of its head, snapping it away from you, and causing it to stumble.

Apparently, he wasn’t.

Sam emptied three more shells into the creature before reloading with cool, practiced ease. One blast dislocated the Terrormorph’s other back leg. Chunks went flying.

It howled and thrashed as he kept unloading shells into it. When he was completely out, he dropped the shotgun and picked up a long rod of metal with a jagged, broken end. The sharp tip sliced clean into its ribcage. When the alien still tried to pull itself up on its remaining two feet, Sam pulled it out with a yank and drove it home into the thing’s head, right above the mandibles. It gave one final spasm and finally fell dead.

At last, the only sound around you was the rain.

Sam dropped the crude spear with a clatter, eyeing the body a few times as he rushed over through the debris.

“You ok?” he panted, kneeling down. His hands cupped your face, bringing the familiar warmth with them.

“Holy shit.” Was all you were able to say.

It made him laugh with relief as he moved to check you over. “And you said a shotgun wouldn’t do anything.”

His hands moved debris from your legs, and he hovered as you yelped in pain. “You’ve got a nasty gash here. We need to get you back to the ship for medical attention. Let me see if I can get this off you.”

With a grunt of effort, he pushed the beam up enough for you to pull yourself out. Your leg was bleeding badly, but nothing you couldn’t fix with some TLC and bed rest. The pain hadn’t set in yet, thankfully.

Near you was a chunk of the Terrormorph’s leg. Feeling oddly disconnected from yourself, you grabbed it, staring at the gross thing, and put it in your pocket for Hadrian.

Sam started taking out bandages and doing what he could to wrap your leg. You could see his hands were shaking now.

Against all odds you both were alive; you started to laugh.

Sam gave you an odd look. “Don’t go loopy on me.”

A giant smile broke across your face. “Wasn’t expecting to live. There goes my chance at a cool memorial or bragging rights.”

“Going face to face with a Terrormorph and only losing a chunk of your leg gets bragging rights. Believe me.”

“Nah. All the credit goes to you on this one. That was just badass.”

He grunted, throwing more debris out of the way, and trying to clear a path. “Wasn’t thinking about how cool it looked when I did it. I was just trying to save you.”

“You know I’ll be telling this story forever, right?”

He chuckles, helping you up, slinging your arm over his shoulder and wrapping his around your waist. “I can see Barret’s expression now.”

“‘Sam Coe, my hero’ is how I’ll start it.”

He groans playfully. “Please don’t.”

“It’s true.” You looked at him as your feet touched even ground. Your faces were close. You could see the rain drops clinging to his hair and beard. “You saved my life.”

When he looked over, his nose nudged yours from close proximity. He didn’t shy away from the contact. Your paces slowed to a stop. “I wouldn’t hesitate to do it again, either.”

Your grin was slow to spread as you glanced at his lips more than once. “Would you prefer a quippy one line as thanks?”

“Mm—no. Maybe something else though.”

You feigned ignorance as his eyes trailed down your face. “Oh? And what would that be?”

“I’ll let you think of it.”

“A hero’s song?” you joked, voice softening.

“Nope.”

“How about a poem?”

He faces toward the room Hadrian’s in with a low laugh and begins to walk again. “You know, if you were as much of a smartass to that Terrormorph as you are to me, it would have keeled over on the spot.”

You put your good foot down and hold it, halting any forward progress. “Ok, ok. I think I’ve come up with something.”

He’s still smiling as he looks at you. Your noses nudge again. “If you suggest a book or a short story—”

His surprised breath as your mouth presses to his is an award in itself. He stays motionless for a moment, as if his brain had short-circuited, before his lips move and mold to yours. Slow and tentative at first, exploratory. Soft and gentle as if he’s afraid of hurting you. His hand on your waist moves to your lower back, gripping your clothes. He leans into you, beard scratching the skin of your face. Your fingers slide through and tangle in his wet hair. It makes him pant into your mouth before kissing you again, more eager this time.

Breaking apart, you both linger close, hot breath mixing together. His forehead leans to yours, eyes still closed.

That raspy voice of his you love so much is the first to break the silence. “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting you to do that.”

“You could have made the first move. I wouldn’t have minded.”

“Was never sure if you were just being quippy and flirtatious for fun or not.”

“It is fun, but it’s also because I care for you.”

He hums, nuzzling his nose against yours. “Good to know, we’re going to have to find time for this more often.”

You close the distance enough to ghost your lips over his. “We have time now.”

He hesitates, so tempted with the offer, but exhales instead. “You’re hurt and bleeding all over the place, I need to get you some medical help. Plus, Hadrian needs her damn samples.”

“Pshh. I’ve got plenty of blood left—and she can be patient.”

He starts walking again, bringing you with him, and pressing the gentlest kiss you’ve ever felt against the corner of your mouth. “Just wait until you’re healed. You won’t be able to keep me away.”

[alienaiver]

Rugged

Aizawa Shouta x GN!reader

warnings: quirk-induced amnesia, canon minor character death (major in my heart tho), spoilers for... season 5 and forth? to be safe wordcount: 4.9k content: confessions, first kiss, fluff, sfw, no use of y/n, pro hero reader but quirk is unspecified, canon compliant, genderneutral reader, poc!friendly reader, body positive reader, hurt/comfort in like the mildest sense, soft love, amnesia situation, friends to lovers, childhood friends to lovers, started as a meme turned into something serious, something about cats, unbeta'd, flashbacks to high school days

notes: this is so embarassing to admit but i only came up with this story bcos of that tiktok/insta reel (link is a tiktok as thats where i could find the source material) about having a type that's 'rugged'. it was supposed to just turn into a little joke on that and... uh, ykno suddenly i was almost 5k deep into a childhood friends to lovers, ..ya my brain had a VISION alrighty!!!!! please enjoy a one-eyed kitty, one-eyed aizawa and interrupted confessions!

Aizawa’s leaning forward on the desk, meticulously writing down an exact copy of your notes from English Literature that he missed yesterday due to being in the infirmary… again. He’s always known that becoming a Pro Hero with a non-physical quirk would be tough, but he didn’t imagine landing himself in a hospital bed as often as he does. He’s bulking up nicely, but he feels beaten black and blue every other day and it’s… exhausting.

Rewarding, but exhausting nonetheless. He’s momentarily disturbed as a chair is being dragged across the floor, screeching away before haphazardly thrown next to the desk, wrong side facing it, and Yamada throwing himself onto it, arms leaning on the backrest. He says your name in a sing-song voice – your given name, has he no shame? - and steals a peek of you from over the rim of his glasses. You rest your head in your palm and smile at him, “what’s up?” you ask, and he hums as if he’s thinking deeply about something. Aizawa’s got a bad feeling about whatever subject he’s about to bring up; ever since he appointed himself Aizawa’s wing man, the pestering’s both been non-stop and non-discreet.

Aizawa keeps his face buried in the notes, purposefully removing himself from the conversation.

“What’s your type?” Yamada asks and Aizawa has to hold back a facepalm. You simply giggle and play with the zipper from your pencil case before you answer, “hmm, I’m not sure. But with all due respect, I know it’s not you,” you tease him and he straightens his back in mock-surprise, the conversation’s one you’ve had before. He takes a hand to his chest, “what? Not me? Well you’re not my type either!” the shriek in which he yells is a little too loud, his quirk still a little too unmanageable when he gets excited – he winces as the rest of the class turn their heads. You simply laugh and bite your lower lip. Aizawa steals a look at you through his bangs, admiring the glimmer in your eyes.

“Yeah, I’m sorry ‘Zashi, I truly am, but… you’re just not… rugged enough.”

“What? I’m so rugged. I can be rugged!”

“Look at you, you’re not rugged,” you laugh as you gesture vaguely to… all of him. He takes offense as he puffs up his chest, “how am I not rugged? Because I’m not wearing a flannel in 80 degree weather?”

You hide your face in your hand as you try to contain your laughter, “yeah, sure, whatever… but look at you now. You fly off the handle like that, you’re too angry.”

“That’s a very rugged thing to do!”

“No, it’s really not.”

Aizawa has been saddled with the two of you for almost two semesters now, and he’s still not entirely used to the way you joke around. In the beginning he was always worried about you fighting and not getting along and he’d stare at you both with wide eyes like a startled cat and hope you’d settle down soon. You always did, laughing like the greatest joke was just told.

You lean forward on the table to bark out a laughter deep from your stomach, momentarily blocking the view of your notes that Aizawa’s copying. He lets out a soundless grunt at you being so close and pulls away in surprise when he accidentally smell your shampoo. He wants to lean forward again, to commit the scent to memory, but you’re already straightened back up, wiping an imaginary tear from your eye, “you don’t even want me, Hizashi, why is this always so important to you?”

This makes Aizawa freeze, terrified that Yamada will accidentally tell his secret to you. But Yamada simply crosses his arms, puffs up his cheeks and nods, “you’re right, I don’t. But I want you to want me. I’m the entire package.”

You laugh and shake your head, letting your arm fall onto the desk in defeat. “Sure then, ‘Zashi. I want you. Badly. More than anything. Please go out with me.” your face is as flat as Aizawa’s can be, and Yamada smiles proudly, “no thank you.”

Aizawa’s startled out of grading papers when his personal phone starts ringing next to him on the desk, the screen much too bright for the darkened room he’s situated in. It’s an unknown caller, which makes him hesitant at first but since it’s well past office hours, he knows it won’t be a salesman of any sort.

He bites his lower lip before he picks up.

“Aizawa speaking.”

“Ah, good evening. I apologize for contacting you at this hour, however, you are written down as the emergency contact for…” he apologetically butchers the pronunciation of your name, but gets your hero name correctly, “this is Aizawa Shouta, right?” the person on the other end confirms, and Aizawa nods before he verbally comes up with an answer.

“Well, it’s just that…” he explains your situation precariously, advising Aizawa to just come down to the station if he’s able, since someone will need to escort you home. He makes sure to remind Aizawa that you have two more emergency contacts on file in case he’s not available, but after getting the location, he’s already up from the chair before he’s hung up with the poor officer dealing with you.

From the call he knows you’re neither mortally wounded or in any kind of distress. You were on patrol when you encountered two villains. One of them turned out to have an amnesia quirk, and now you were stuck at the precinct, not entirely sure where your apartment is located. The officer informed Aizawa that you seemed calm and collected but that the last date you remember was well over 10 years ago even if you haven’t age-regressed in any way.

When he arrives, the officer leads him to one of the offices, profusely apologizing and thanking him at the same time. He’ll never really get used to the way newly appointed officers act around Pro Heroes.

Even if all facts and rationale tells Aizawa that you’re fine, he still grips the door handle way too tight, throwing open the door and evidently scaring the shit out of you, sprawled out on the couch with an ice bag on your knee. You spew out some profanities as you sit up. Aizawa immediately calms down as he sees you alive and well. He thanks the officer and agrees with the officer to sit down and talk with you before taking you home. He bows before he closes the door and looks back at you.

“I already gave a statement – was anything missing?” you ask, resting your hands neatly on your thighs. Aizawa shakes his head, “I came to pick you up – they informed you about which of the emergency contacts to call, right?”

Realization seems to travel across your features as Aizawa masks the sting he feels. Instinctively you reach out, but ultimately pull your hands back, “Aizawa?”

For a split second he lets his emotion show on his face – the way you say his last name instead of his given name, but he’s quick to hide it again. He nods and sits down on one of the chairs on the other side of the coffee table, “I was informed that your memory’s been wiped.”

You nod and look at the floor, “yeah. They took in the villains and interrogated them. It seems it’ll wear off in five to seven hours, but until then I’m stuck with my first work study as my most recent memory. I don’t feel like high school me, though, it’s just like there’s an empty gap in my timeline and not an age-related kind of thing. I can’t remember what has happened since then, but cognitively speaking, I’m still myself.”

Aizawa breathes in sharply, “well, that’s a relief. I have enough students to take care of,” he dryly jokes and the way your eyes widen make him self-conscious. He shouldn’t have made the joke he thinks as he shrinks in on himself.

“You’re a teacher?”

The way you ask betrays your emotions all too clearly and Aizawa holds back a snort. If the last of his personality you remember is high school, he gets why you struggle with the image of him taking care of the budding youth.

“A homeroom teacher, actually.”

Whatever preconceptions you had initially seems to dissipate and you smile proudly, “that’s amazing.”

You haven’t commented on his appearance; besides the moment where you didn’t recognize him, you don’t seem all too taken aback by his lack of eye and prosthetic leg. He’s relieved.

“You ready to go?” he asks, patting his lap with his palms before bracing himself to get up. You get up too and stretch your arms over your head, waiting for that satisfying pop, but it never comes. Annoyed, you let your arms falls and Aizawa smiles at you.

He leads you out of the room and as you put on the jacket he came with, he thanks the officers for their work with some polite back and forth and a bow.

The trip back is quiet as you seem to just take in your surroundings. You stop by your Agency to grab your personal items and civilian clothes that you left behind before your patrol. Luckily the offices are mostly cleared out, so you don’t have to ‘meet’ everyone and Aizawa gets out of explaining everything to everyone.

“Do you want me to escort you to your place? Or do you want to come to mine?”

The question is straight-forward and innocent; you sleep over so often that Aizawa’s spare futon has simply been dubbed your futon, but you seem taken aback, eyes wide and mouth agape. For a moment Aizawa’s blind to the confusion before he remembers.

“Sorry, you sleep over at my place a lot since it’s close to your work. I thought you might also like to see Benben.”

Your eyes that had seemed so tired ever since he arrived, lights up in recollection and excitement, “Benben’s alive and well?” you ask, absentmindedly leaning into Aizawa’s space in your joy. He struggles not to lean back reflectively.

“Yeah, she’s living with me now. She’s becoming old, though. But you’re still her favorite human, so she’d be happy to see you too.”

You giggle into your palm, clearly trying to picture Benben. She was a stray that you and Aizawa started to feed your leftover lunches to back during your first year at U.A. She was also one of the reasons you even started bonding with the stoic classmate. When you talk about the name Benben, a very bad nickname based off of bento, you always laugh and tease Aizawa about his cat-naming skills. While he defends himself in front of Yamada – the man with a habit of getting out his childish side – he never once argues against you on that subject.

Next to Aizawa, you clear your throat right as he’s about to unlock his front door. He’s been polite enough to not comment on the level of staring you’ve done ever since he picked you up, but it seems to be getting too much for yourself. He smiles at you gently, like he’s communicating with a lost child, and the smile makes you act before you can think too long about the action. Aizawa’s breath hitches and whole body freezes when your cold fingertips reach the skin of his cheeks. Your eyes look at him like they’re searching for something, and shortly after your palms make contact, your thumbs start traveling around his face, from his eyebrows to the slope of his nose and then a finger is being traced over the scar under his right eye. He can see all the questions fly through your head, the way you hold back from tracing the eye patch but stare at it like it’s not supposed to be there. He’s about to clear his throat when a thumb starts tracing his chapped lips before continuing down to his jawline, tickling his 5 o’clock shadow. As he tries to smile patiently at you, you mumble something under your breath that makes Aizawa’s heart stop for just a moment too long before racing at the same speeds as Yamada’s car when he’s late.

“It really is you… you’re just so…” you pause for a moment to swallow thickly and lick your lips, “…rugged.”

Not until you’ve had your (in Aizawa’s terms) grabby little fingers on every part of his face and given his heart an aneurysm with your words, does realization hit you. You seem to shrink and pull away to bow half-way a few times at him. Aizawa grumbles out a weak complaint about personal space and jingle the keys again to find the right one. No matter how advanced his work place is in terms of security and technology, he finds it unbelievable how many different types of keys he is expected carry for the school grounds alone. Logically, he’s aware that he’s fumbling due to your innocent advances but his brain’s not exactly acting calm and rational, so he furrows his brows and as he puts in the correct key, takes in a deep, calming breath.

When he motions for you to enter the apartment, he can’t help but observe you as you curiously peek around while you enter. You don’t toe off your shoes or step up from the genkan until the door behind him is locked and he gestures to the left pair of slippers in front of you. You let out a breath as you mumble, “sorry for intruding…” as if this isn’t your home away from home.

As Aizawa toes off his own shoes, he takes notice of your searching eyes. He jerks his head towards the living room, “she’s probably sleeping on the couch. She can’t hear very well anymore, so she doesn’t greet by the door.”

There’s a clear sort of heartbreak in your eyes that Aizawa recognizes, before you nod and walk in the direction of the living room. While your memory might be gone for the moment, it seems there’s muscle memory still intact as you purposefully step over the loose floorboard he always warns guests about. He smiles at that. Benben seems to spot you from her pillow on the couch because no sooner than you enter the room, he starts hearing the hoarse bleating of the senior kitty in there. She must’ve stayed up when Aizawa suddenly left, since it’s out of routine. She’s never been able to meow properly, which enchanted you since she first bleated at you for a bite of your convenience store-bought onigiri back when the two of you met her for the first time.

He hears you coo at her and can only imagine you both before he turns the other corner for his office to shut down the computer for the night. He quickly rejoins you and finds you with Benben on your lap, purring and headbutting your hands to her heart’s contents. When his eye travel higher to meet yours, he’s taken aback momentarily at the strained smile and wet eyes.

“She looks so loved.” you try to explain, and Aizawa can’t hold back the blush from the compliment. She does look loved now, a little on the fuller side (not by a lot, as her physical health is very important to Aizawa), her coat is shiny despite the coarseness that age brings, and she no longer has that stubborn eye infection it took Aizawa several years to treat out of her; she’s missing an eye now as a result, but she’s healthy.

You look around his living room, smiling and heaving in breaths at all the external proofs for her love; she has a pet staircase to both the windowsill, couch and the dining chair next to his; there are three different cat towers and several cat shelves for her to perch on although they’ve rarely been used for several years now. Aizawa can’t bear to take them down – what if she wants to go on one last adventure to the shelf highway he built for her close to the ceiling? It obviously wouldn’t be safe for her to do so, but robbing her of the options feels cruel to his heart.

When you pet her behind her ear and Aizawa situates himself on the floor pillow, you giggle, “you match.”

You’re referring to the missing eyes and while Aizawa takes no offense from the comment, he can’t help but snort at the straightforward observation. It’s very like you.

“How did you lose it?”

You don’t remove your eyes from Benben as you ask and from the shaky lilt to your voice, he knows you’re afraid of the answer. He’s afraid of telling you, too.

So much bad has happened during those years – you were there during his low points after, and asking that question is like removing the experiences you’ve shared. The grief you’ve suffered.

But he knows you want to know. Before he can answer, you continue, “can you tell me everything? About you… Oboro and Hizashi, too. I was informed it was only you, Hizashi and my mom on my emergency contact list. I know it’s not supposed to be miles long but… yeah…” you trail off and Aizawa’s grateful that you’re not looking at him. He’s not sure he’s able to control his face right now; and the emotion he’s showing wouldn’t be remotely close to soothing for you.

“Uh,” he jerks and clears his throat several times to stall, “when did you say your memory would be back?” he asks instead even if he’s aware of the answer.

You look up and hum thoughtfully, “they said five to seven hours around … two hours ago? So…” you count on your fingers and despite everything, Aizawa huffs out a soundless laugh, “three to five hours? Give or take.”

He inhales sharply. He can’t drive you off for that long, even if he used going to bed as an excuse. You’d just toss and turn in fear of what you’d come to remember.

So he tells you. He retells every painful memory with clear objectivity, pausing to let you process each one, seeing the light slowly dissipate in your eyes for every terrible incident. When he reaches present day, he inhales slowly and holds his breath for a moment to control his own emotions.

You’ve stopped petting Benben who’s sound asleep on your lap now, your hands hanging like lifeless limbs by your side. Aizawa then clears his throat, “you were scouted. In third year. ‘Zashi opened a radio station shortly after graduation. Oboro’s mom still invites us for hotpot for his birthday every year despite the mismatch in dish and weather,” you both laugh at that one – of course she insists on his favorite dish on such an important day. An image of the four of you huddled around, sweating over a pot of delicious food has you throwing your head back in sincere laughter, “you have a prodigy; you inspired me to take a pupil on as well, and he’s graduating this spring… I, uh… I use eye drops now.”

The last tidbit of information makes you turn your head so fast you almost get whiplash. Then, your expression turns stern, “didn’t I tell you! Didn’t I tell you to be careful!” you reprimand and he almost rolls his eye at you. Almost.

You shake your head at him and focus back on Benben, a little more color on you again as the mood has successfully shifted. He’s unsure if you’re pretending to be fine for his sake or if he actually succeeded in making you feel better, but he can’t stifle the yawn that comes out of him as soon as he feels relief.

You look up apologetically, “oh my God I’m so sorry, I’ve kept you up haven’t I? Please, you can just go to bed, I’ll be okay!”

Aizawa wants to argue but he also can’t fight the creaky ache he feels in his bones. He went straight from a night shift to school, napped in the teacher’s lounge and then home to grade papers. He’s dead-tired.

He gets up to carry his futon into the living room and set yours up in his bedroom. Usually, you sleep in the same, bare room as him and Benben, but he feels it might be too much for you without your memories, even if you sleep on separate futons with space in between. You make a joke about the futons but then, in a soft voice admit, “I think it’s nice you sleep on something accessible for Benben…” there’s a warm tone to your voice that makes him blush heavily before he pushes you out of his living room.

“I’ll sleep out here, you take the bedroom.”

You meekly argue about taking his bedroom, but he shuts you down in the same way he’s always done, and urges you to carry Benben in with you. You agree to have the door ajar in case Benben wants to walk around, and you bow your head when you bid him goodnight. Aizawa lets the light in the hallway stay on.

////

You wake up with a hitched breath and sweat on your brow, unsure when you managed to fall asleep. Disoriented, you take in Aizawa’s bedroom; you were supposed to sleep home tonight after your shift though, not to mention that Aizawa’s futon isn’t laid out next to yours. It takes you a moment to gather your bearings until it all comes back to you. You’d lost your memory.

You’d lost yourself. You hug your arms around you as the feeling of being lost still sits heavy in your body and makes you shiver. Seeing Aizawa was terrifying; you’d no idea of the obvious horrors he’d had to endure. You didn’t remember your best friend’s death.

For a moment you control your breathing, making yourself calm down as best as you’re able. It makes sense why Aizawa decided to sleep in the living room, if the last memory of him was a pimple-y teenager and not the gruff man he is today. You close your eyes and think back to right before you entered the apartment.

You roll onto your stomach and hide your face in your hands, letting out a drawn-out flustered groan. Without thinking, you kick your legs on the bedding to alleviate the embarrassment that’s coursing through you at your own actions. You’d just went all up in his face! The sensation of his stubble underneath your fingertips, his warm breath and his chapped but so, so kissable lips.

No!

You groan again, drowning in your one-sided misery of a crush. Your honed Pro Hero senses are completely dulled by your pining, so when Aizawa suddenly throws open the door and asks if you are alright, you screech as you lift your head from the pillow, “Shouta!”

“Shit, sorry, I heard you moving around so I thought you might have a nightmare,” he hurries to explain, secretly relieved to hear you say his given name again. He frowns when he can’t see your face with your back turned to him. Still frozen, you barely breathe before he continues, “...you are alright, right?”

Making a grimace and with no interest in facing him right now, you choke out “mhmyepdefinitelyeverythingsperfect!” in one single breath before you’re forced to inhale deeply. You hear Aizawa’s metallic foot as he walks towards your futon and hear the rustling of his clothes as he bends down in a squat next to you, “you don’t sound perfectly fine to me, though. Do you have a fever? Is it an aftershock from getting your memories back?”

Being the perfectly rational man that he is, he oversteps any boundaries to quickly check your temperature with his palm. Embarrassment can come after he’s made sure you’re okay.

You push his hand away weakly, still looking pointedly at the wall in front of you, letting out a strained laugh, “heehee, I’m just… you’re right, it must be an aftershock, right? Nothing else!”

He lets you swat his hand away without much resistance but stays where he is, letting the silence hang over you both for a minute. Suddenly, he croaks out all hoarse and desperate, “Just tell me if there’s anything, please.”

Your shoulders fall at the voice. Aizawa’s the opposite of having a heart on a sleeve, but you’ve been with him through enough tragedies to know he must be scared shitless right now. Whenever you or Yamada is even remotely bruised, he fusses over you in his own, annoyed way, until he finds you sufficiently healed. You sigh before you let your head fall back onto your pillow, a short moment to gather your thoughts and feelings before having to face him.

It must’ve been a lot for him, when you asked him to recount the years you’d momentarily lost. It would’ve been better to let it be, but he knew you so well and knew you wouldn’t let it go. Curiosity kills the cat, right?

With heavy and slow movement, you turn around so that you’re facing him, hoping your expression won’t betray your real emotions. You sigh and reach out for his hand. It’s shaking but as soon as your warm fingers make contact, he flinches before he relaxes.

Then, he grunts like he’s annoyed and chastises you for worrying him. You giggle, “I’m sorry, you’re tired, right?” you ask, knowing his schedule this week is packed. He usually leaves little wiggle room for emergencies, however many he encounters.

Before he can reply, you pull at his hand and he topples over, half on the futon and half on the floor, on his knees. You laugh and pull him even closer to you, hoping your beating heart isn’t as loud as it feels.

You and Aizawa have cuddled before; loneliness and grief has made you carve out comfort in each other, but nothing else have ever been spoken aloud. No kissing, no romantic notions to trace back to. Having a one-sided crush since high school feels deafening right now, when all the years travel back to you after what only amounts to a moment without them.

You want to tell him how you feel; losing your memories made you realize how much you’d like for him to comfort you with kisses if anything should ever happen; how you’d like for him to hold you without holding back.

He grumbles where his head is rested in your neck after he’s settled, but he makes no effort to move. You nuzzle into the mane of hair and breathe in his scent; it’s a lavender-scented shampoo that Yamada insists on buying for him. He never accepts it without complaining, but he also never showers without using it. There’s a spare in your bathroom, at the Agency’s bathroom and at his teacher’s dorm at U.A.

“Y’know, I was really surprised for a moment that you became a teacher.”

He makes no movement, but you know he’s listening.

“But as soon as I thought about it, it made perfect sense. You care so much it sometimes hurts to watch…”

You feel his fist tighten around your bedding, but he stays otherwise quiet still.

“You hurt watching me, too, right? How we both have a habit of bending over backwards for what we perceive is right.”

You start dragging your hands through his hair, letting out a sigh.

“I like that we know each other so well. I like how after so many years, you’re still right here in my arms…”

You pause as his upper arm snakes around you, a sharp exhale against your neck.

“You’ve never dated anyone. At least, not anyone you’d tell me about, so I have no idea where this will lead me to but,”

You take a moment to gather your nerves. There’s really no backing down now. Even if you regret it, your words have already given your feelings away; there’s nothing you can take back.

There’s nothing you want to take back.

You’re about to continue your confession when Aizawa pushes against your neck, his warm lips, soft despite the dryness, presses against your pulse point. You can hear your heartbeat so loud in your ear that the rustling of the sheets from Benben is indistinguishable to you, the only sensation you’re able to take in being Aizawa’s lips as they briefly pull away from your neck, only to push back higher up, closer to your jaw.

You whine and pout, but it’s shaky and without much force. You want to protest, scold him for interrupting you but suddenly he lifts his head to face you, and you’re faced with wide eyes and blown pupils. He steals a glance at your lips before he licks his own, pink tongue peeking out. You feel like a cornered prey, one that’s about to be devoured by a beast. When he hovers mere millimeters above your lips he pauses as if to ask for permission and the sigh you let out makes him know that everything’s okay. That everything he’s ever wanted, wished for, dreamed of, is real.

That losing your memory for a second made you desperate to make more meaningful ones.

And you kiss.

While curiosity did kill the cat, satisfaction definitely brought it back.

[loviatarsluv]

Would That I

"It's not tonight

Where I'm set alight

And I blink in sight

of your blinding light"

(all credits to the op of this gif!!!!!)

pairing: Gale x f!tav (my own oc, Elara)

(takes place in an AU where the absolute and the cult basically don't exist so this is non-canon compliant, I guess)

rating: mature (mostly pretty tame, but gets a little spicy toward the end ;) )

CW: yearning and pining, mentions of family member death, an interrupted bath, gale being precious, tara being equally as precious, and last but not least, (m) masturbation (HEHEHE)

in summary: Elara has been sent to stay with Gale of Waterdeep whilst her uncle is gone, and becomes his assistant/apprentice of sorts, and in the meanwhile is crushing on him so hard that she can barely even stand being around him. (real asf honestly) little does she know, he is equally as besotted just slightly better at hiding it (or maybe she's just clueless) and ends up having to let out his feelings somehow … ;)

a/n: I've been wanting to write a sweet romantic gale fic that did not take place during the canon of the game and let gale have tara with him and be in waterdeep and all the other things he deserves so here it is!!! this will definitely be an ongoing series, i'm not sure how long but i love a good slow burn so we'll see :)

word count: 8.2k (I know this one's a long one buckle in besties)

She’s always loved the color brown. 

It was easily one of the most overlooked colors— one we so easily take for granted. Yet, some of the most lovely things in life appear in the warmest shades of brown. 

A cup of hot tea on a chilly day while the rain pours and patters against the windows. The leather bindings of her favorite book that brought her boundless comfort more times than any one person ever had, worn from the years of reading it and tucking it into her bag so that it was always at her side. The rough bark of the great oak tree near her home in Waterdeep— well, someone else’s home that she just so happened to occupy space in. 

She spends many mornings sitting on the roots of that tree, the large and weathered trunk shielding her from the harsh rays of the rising morning sun, either reading a book she nabbed from the library in her boss’ office or scribbling nonsense in her notebook. Occasionally her boss’ tressym companion, Tara,  joins her, sitting beside her and allowing the sun to warm just the back half of her, basking her fur and wings in a beautiful golden glow. There are brown spots on her fur. She’s lovely. 

The loveliest of things, though, were the things she tried with everything within her not to think about— like Gale Dekarios’ long chestnut brown hair, or the silver streaks that adorned the dark waves near the top of his head like it were a crown atop a prince’s, and the way he would tie it back into a messy half updo that perfectly accentuated his face and neck. The small pieces of hair that would fall into his eyes that she so desperately wanted to brush away. His perfectly groomed facial hair that had matching gray streaks and how he’d run his hands through the hair on his cheeks or rake his fingers through his hair when he was deep in thought. 

And his eyes— gods, his damned eyes. So warm and kind and full of a genuine sweetness that she’d never seen in another person’s eyes before. Eyes that seemed to read her so well despite not knowing her for very long, especially when she least wanted her pages to be turned. Eyes that really seemed to see her. Many had looked at her before— none had ever really seen her. Eyes that when in the right lighting, appeared golden, like the richest honey in all of Faerun. 

No, she certainly didn’t think about it. Not often, really. Only when his hands would brush against hers as he took the scroll from her hands that he’d asked her to fetch for him. Or when he would utter a groggy but kindhearted good morning to her as he ambled into the kitchen first thing in the morning, the first light of dawn breaking through the parted dark velvet curtains that drape over the large windows and beaming on him in just the right way to make him appear otherworldly. Or when she would fall asleep on the chaise in the study and wake to find a blanket draped over her body. 

Not often. Not really. 

She’d begun working for him (he loathed referring to what she did for him as working for him, and preferred words like ‘assist’ or ‘help’, he always said it made him sound like a tyrant) just around six months ago, him having taken her in somewhat as a favor to her uncle Alastor, who had been good friends with him for quite some time. She was never sure how their friendship came to be, but she never really asked. They were a strange pair in her opinion, her uncle being significantly older than Gale, who seemed to be somewhere around his early to mid thirties, based on her estimations. She was closer in age to Gale than Gale was to her uncle. 

Alastor essentially raised her, as her parents passed just before the nearing of her fifth birthday. He took her in with open arms, naturally— but in truth, she always knew that he’d never planned or intended to cater his life to caring for and raising a child. He was a rather adventurous and solitary wizard, and before he’d taken her in, he had been to the furthest edge of the Sword Coast and back several times over, even explored the vast expanse of the Underdark a handful of times. He told the best bedtime stories. 

As she got older, over time she noticed him get… strange. He was already a strange and rather eccentric man, but as the years passed he almost seemed to become a different person entirely. Still kind, still the same fun loving and gentle man he’d always been, just… lost, almost. He always seemed as if he were meant to be somewhere else, and had just taken a wrong turn and somehow ended up where he was. Like the clock was ticking and he was on track to be late for something, but she could never figure out what for. And in the months leading up to him sending her off to Waterdeep, he almost seemed to retreat into himself entirely, rarely leaving his chaotic and disordered sty of a study that she would often offer to clean and organize for him, only for him to wave her off and tell her not to worry. 

She always worried. How could she not? He was the only living family she had left. He was the only true friend she had in the world. 

On one particular night, the night he sent for Gale to come over under the guise of a friendly dinner, he seemed unusually ordinary. Normal. Almost as if he were his old self again. If it didn’t scare her so much, she would’ve been overjoyed to see the still eccentric, but wise and happy man that raised her once again. 

That was the first time she had ever truly met Gale Dekarios. 

She had seen him a handful of times before in passing, as her and her uncle would run into him at the infamous Sorcerous Sundries— but the two of them had never exchanged a word. He would offer both of them a bright and friendly smile, and she would return it in kind. 

Her eyes would follow him as he walked away, trailing behind him as if she were trapped under a spell, her neck craning and watching him over her shoulder as he would disappear into the crowded city streets of Baldur’s Gate. Her uncle would tease her, jabbing his elbow into her side and wiggling his eyebrows. She would smack his arm and try desperately to hide the furious crimson blush in her cheeks, waving him off and dismissing his teasing. But he knew. Anyone who could’ve seen the look on her face when Gale Dekarios was around would know. 

This was the night wherein she officially met him— the first time she ever heard her own name repeated back to her as she introduced herself, as if he were trying to memorize it and memorize her along with it. The way her name sounded so much more beautiful in his voice and the way his lips wrapped around every syllable as he said it. The first time she saw those eyes— those damn eyes— and they saw her back. 

She hoped that he didn’t find her terribly rude after the fourth time she had to excuse herself to run upstairs and calm herself and the incessant fluttering in her chest and stomach as she spoke to him. She felt like a schoolgirl with her first crush all over again. Pathetic. Besotted. 

By the time she came back downstairs, she caught the tail end of the two men’s conversation, ducking behind a wall and eavesdropping. 

“You would be doing not only me a great kindness but also my dear Elara. I fear you may be her safest bet, for the time being.” She overhears Alastor say, his voice low as if he were attempting to whisper, but still loud enough to where she could hear him as clearly as if he were right in front of her. 

“I understand. She is more than welcome to come to my tower in Waterdeep— though, forgive me for not asking before, but is she aware of this arrangement?” Gale asks, concern still evident even in his hushed tone. 

There’s that fluttering again. 

Her uncle sighs heavily, releasing all of the air from his lungs and pausing for a moment in shameful silence before continuing. She assumed he shook his head before speaking. “I knew that if I proposed this to her, she would have said no. I have it in good authority that she may perhaps be very unhappy with me when she learns of this.” 

Anger was not the emotion she was feeling, far from it. Concern, perhaps. Confusion? Definitely. Anxiety? Without a doubt. 

Her head was spinning as she tried to wrap her mind around what she was hearing— why was her uncle concerned for her safety? And why was Gale Dekarios the one who could ensure it? 

Before another word could be exchanged between the two men, she emerged from her hiding spot, her shoulders hung low and her movements slow as if she were trying to avoid landmines from going off under the weight of her feet. Their heads snap up in her direction, and immediately they catch on. Gale gives her a sympathetic look that she immediately has to avert her gaze from. Alastor bears the look of someone regretful, but not entirely. Hopeful, almost. 

“Elara,” He breathes. “Assuming you heard most, if not all, of our conversation, what are your thoughts?” The older man sitting at the far end of the dinner table asks, his tone simply inquisitive, versus that of someone who just got caught trying to pull a fast one. 

None, really. None that she could express eloquently or with any sort of grace and dignity, at least. 

“Where are you going?” She asks, her voice emotionless and calm in spite of the storm of emotion brewing within. 

Alastor gives her a pleading look, as if he was begging her not to ask a million questions like he knew she likely planned to. Only because he knew he had no answers that he could freely offer her that would suffice in easing your mind. 

“It won’t be for too terribly long. Though, in the meantime, perhaps Mr. Dekarios could pick up on your old man’s slack and actually teach you some damn magic.” The older man jokes, receiving no laughter in response. 

She and Gale exchange a glance, almost as if they were surveying each other. He seemed to be studying her facial expressions and attempting to gauge her feelings on this whole situation, and basing his responses on her. It made her cheeks burn so hot she feared that she may break into a sweat. 

She had heard of his magical prowess and acclaim in the wizarding world through the overheard hushed conversations of fellow wizards gossiping about him while she browsed Sorcerous Sundries. She had no doubt at all that he would be an excellent teacher— he just seemed like he would, even based on her limited interactions with him. So that was not something she was even slightly opposed to— if anything, it sparked a buried and long forgotten childish excitement in her. 

She’d been wanting to learn or study the arcane arts for years, but for some reason her uncle Alastor always had an excuse against it. She picked up on small things and simple incantations that helped her tidy the house better or even minor illusions just for her own entertainment, but she always wanted to learn more. 

That was far from being her main concern, her main concern being oh gods, how in the nine hells am I supposed to live with a man that I can’t even bare to be in the same room with for too long before needing to leave and calm myself so I don’t appear like a love stricken puppy under his gaze? 

Aside from that, her concern for her uncle had begun to set in as she really digested what was being proposed and why it seemed to be getting thrust upon her— where on all of Faerun could he be going that he couldn’t take her with him? That he didn’t want to take her with him? She had never adventured with him before, he never allowed it— but that didn’t mean she hadn’t wanted to or begged him to let her go with him just once. He said no, obviously. Every time. It never stopped her from trying, though. 

She knew her uncle well enough to know that whatever it was had to be quite important, if he were sending her off like this. She trusted him, more than anyone in the world. So who was she to argue? 

“Are you okay? With all of this?” Gale asked her, standing and crossing the room, approaching her tentatively but not coming too close. 

Okay was ill fitting to describe her feelings toward this situation, but there really wasn’t another word to replace it with. So she just nodded, not offering any more explanation as she was petrified of anything that might come out of her mouth at that moment. 

Gale continued to watch her, as if he were waiting for her to do something— burst into tears, shout, curse them both out, anything— only for her to stay planted in the spot she stood in the middle of what would only be her home for a handful of days more. The only home she ever truly knew. 

Gale and Alastor continued to discuss the details while she began tidying the mess that had made of the kitchen by the tornado of a man in the other room, and zoned out as she scrubbed the same spot on one of the dishes for what felt like hours, only returning to reality when she felt a warm and ridiculously soft hand very gently take the plate from hers. Her eyes shot up to meet his, his body dangerously close to her as he offered her a friendly smile. 

“Allow me. You should probably rest up as much as you can. You know— before the big move.” He offers, somehow managing to mash gentlemanliness and awkwardness together into one terribly endearing sentence. 

Gods, this is going to be rough. 

She stared up at him through round eyes, just now noticing the significant height difference between the two of them now that he was as close to her as he was. Yet another thing to add to the growing list of things she needed to not think about if she wanted to preserve the last few crumbles of her own sanity. 

She steps aside after a moment, not uttering a word to him but giving her best attempt at a thankful smile, then runs upstairs to her room and flops onto the comforts of her bed for what was one of the final times she would be able to for gods know how long. She savored the last few nights in the room that she’d spent her most formative years in. The room she dreamt in, cried in, discovered herself in, and fostered memories that she would eventually have to say goodbye to. 

Then the day she was set to leave finally came, but she didn’t feel as melancholy as she expected to feel. She’d spent the prior few days drowning in her own nostalgia as she visited every forgotten corner of her childhood home, rifling through her old toys and relics from before her parents passed, making sure to set aside the most sentimental things so that she could take them along with her. She shed a few tears here and there, but mostly she felt a selfish twinge of relief. 

As much as she loved her uncle, she had been craving a change in her life for so long now that she had made peace with eventually leaving long before Alastor had even considered sending her off with a man that was a complete stranger to her. 

But something about that added to the excitement— she was truly being thrown into the unknown head first. An unfamiliar city, an unfamiliar home, and an unfamiliar person that undoubtedly had a whole wealth of knowledge and stories to share with her. It was a lot of change, but she welcomed it eagerly. 

Though, eager as she was to leave, saying goodbye to her uncle proved to be a lot harder than anything else. 

She hugged him for as long as he would allow her to, clinging on to him and shoving her face into his worn out old robes and savoring the scent that she’d always associate with comfort— tobacco, sage, and a hint of his favorite wine— leaving behind a few small wet spots from the tears that she silently shed. He kissed the top of her head and placed his hands encouragingly on her shoulders, and gave her an affirmative nod. He had never been good with words when it came to expressing affection, but she didn’t feel like she needed it. He showed his care for her in so many other ways that words just seemed unnecessary. 

To be cared for is to be seen. To be loved is to be known. 

She wished him luck on his quest, whatever that may be, then disappeared into the portal that would take her straight to her new home. 

That day almost feels like a lifetime ago. Uncle Alastor checks in every once in a while, sending both her and Gale individual letters. She wants so badly to know what he had to say that was so different to Gale than what he says to her, or rather what he wants him to know and her to not—but she never lets curiosity get the best of her, regardless. 

The one he sent today was unusually brief and simple, assuring her that he was doing well and that he hoped to come by to visit sometime soon— as he’d been saying for months and had still yet to do so. 

She watched Gale read his as he sat at his large mahogany desk, his glasses sat just at the end of his nose and his brows furrowed as he read. His expression didn’t change or seem anything other than relaxed as he read, so she took that as a good sign. She relaxed slightly into the plush cushions of the chaise, a weight she didn’t realize she’d been bearing lifting off of her shoulders. 

She lounged in her favorite spot in his office where she would spend hours reading and researching with him, or where she would sit as she intently listened to him bestow her with random tidbits of knowledge that he found riveting, his cadence as he spoke about it making her feel just as excited by it as he was. 

“I wonder how many more times he’ll promise to visit before he actually does,” she jokes, breaking the comfortable silence. 

Gale huffs air from his nose, never looking up at her from the assortment of scrolls, parchment, and tomes scattered across the surface of his desk. “Knowing your uncle, he’s probably already forgotten he’d ever mentioned it by the time the letters made it to us.” 

She chuckles lightly and sighs, leaning her cheek against the top of the backing of the chaise. “I imagine you’re probably right.” 

Another comfortable silence fills the room, as it often did while Gale busied himself with whatever studies he found pressing enough to indulge in. She tried her best not to interrupt him or disturb him, just simply existed near him in the event he were to need her help or wanted to rant to someone about whatever was occupying his excellent mind. 

She quietly hops off of the lounger and pads over to the large open window on the other side of the large room, perching herself on the windowsill and gazing at the vast expanse of the ocean below, the sun shimmering on it in hues of orange and pink as it began to set. The breeze is pleasant and the faint salty scent of the ocean drifts with the wind and fills her senses. She closes her eyes and indulges in it for a few moments, feeling a kind of serenity that she hadn’t felt in a while. 

When she finally opens her eyes, she finds Gale has turned in his seat and is watching her with a peaceful grin on his face. She holds his gaze for a moment before she has to tear herself away, nervousness rumbling in her gut as she squirms under his intense gaze. 

“Would you like to go for a stroll? It’s a beautiful evening,” he asks, causing her to nearly topple over and fall out of the open window. Great. 

Gale jolts in his seat, preparing to rescue her from her own potential idiotic demise, before she quickly hops down and plants her feet firmly on the ground and shoots him a reassuring glance. 

“I don’t think my heart can handle being around you, at times,” he jokes. His eyes widen and his face pales, and he clears his throat nervously before he continues. “That’s the second— no, third— time you’ve nearly fallen out of that window. I’m starting to consider casting an arcane lock or an invisible shield on the damned thing.” 

Her stomach is doing flips and somersaults as she replays the words he’d said in her head a million times over, despite him quickly correcting himself. Little did he know, she felt very much the same way around him, but for an entirely different reason. 

“Sorry,” she whispers, her eyes dropping to the floor sheepishly. “I’ve never been exactly graceful.” 

He sighs, silently chuckling and shaking his head. “So I’ve gathered.” 

He stands and joins her in front of the window, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back slightly as he mimics what she’d done just moments prior, minus the potential self-defenestration. 

A stronger breeze passes, blowing back his chestnut waves and his lavish looking robes with it. His very slightly aged and weathered skin is bathed in the peachy hues from the sunset. She takes a moment to realize he’s much younger than he appears— she wonders if stress has aged him and caused his graying hair, and what could have stressed him so terribly that it physically affected him. 

“What do you say?” He asks, turning to her once again, his hands clasped behind his back. 

She swallows hard. The thought of a stroll in the warm twilight with Gale of Waterdeep was nearly too much for her heart to bear. She fiddles with the bottom hem of the blouse she was wearing, her gaze fixed on a random point far off into the horizon. 

Say yes. Say yes! 

“U-um, I’m actually not f-feeling very well… I may need to lie down for a bit. But perhaps… another time?” She stammers, her voice meek and unconvincing. At least to herself. 

Stupid, stupid. 

Gale nods, but is unable to completely hide his disappointment, a slight frown gracing his features that would almost be impossible to notice if it weren’t for his expressive eyes. Her heart nearly breaks at the way his brown irises resembled a puppy who’d just been denied a treat. Was it too late to take it back? 

“Are you alright? Is there anything I can do for you?” He takes a step closer, concern replacing the disappointment in his eyes as his brows softened and his hand raised as if he was going to reach for her, before quickly lowering it and dropping it to his side. 

Her body stiffens and her back straightens, her heart pounding. How did she get to this point— where something as simple as him extending base level kindness to her was enough to affect her this much? You’d think after living under his roof for half a year and getting to know him that these feelings would have subsided or dulled themselves by now— but if anything, the more time she spent with him, the more she ached to bridge that gap between them. To be close to him in every way, to tangle herself in him and pray the knot never loosens. 

But she had already accepted that such a thought was silly and childish— her juvenile crush on him would eventually subside and she would forget all about it, like it was never there to begin with. So for now, all she could do was endure. 

“I’m fine, really. I think I just… maybe I just need a nice relaxing bath, or something.” She offers, throwing it out meaninglessly then realizing that a hot bath sounded absolutely divine. 

An unreadable expression flashes across his face for a flicker of an instant before he recomposes, then smooths the front of his coat down with his hands and clears his throat. He offers her his usual warm grin, and nods. 

“By all means. Perhaps I’ll start dinner while you do. It should be done by the time you’ve finished.” 

She can’t hold back the nearly giddy smile that teases the corners of her mouth. He is so sweet. So genuine. 

She nods. “That sounds good. Thank you.” 

Without exchanging another word, they disperse, him retreating downstairs and her essentially running to her room to grab her towels and toiletries. 

She grabs two towels, one for her body and one for her hair, then the soap that she’d gotten the last time she went to the market to pick up a few of her personal essentials. The shopkeeper let her know that it was a special soap, made particularly with ingredients that had calming effects on the user. Perfect. 

She pads out of her room, closing the door behind her and making her way to the large bathroom at the far end of the hallway. 

Gale had a way of leaving his mark on every space he inhabited, and this bathroom was no exception. The room was cozy, draped in various deep purple curtains and several houseplants that looked as if they’d been cared for by the most skilled of botanists, not a single dead leaf or weak stem. There were robes hung on the wall closest to the large clawfoot tub on one end of the room— his robes. She mindlessly runs her hand across the soft fabric of one of them, noticing a small tear in the collar and a few scuffs and singed marks throughout it. She wonders what mischief he’d gotten himself into while wearing it, picturing him perhaps trying out a new spell and it backfiring on him. She smiles and chuckles quietly to herself. 

She tears herself away from her thoughts and his clothes, and approaches the tub, turning the ornate handle for the hot water and watching it run, slowly filling the marble basin. She perches herself on the edge of the tub, staring blankly into the rippling water. 

She thinks of how many times Gale had probably done the exact same thing as she was doing right now— how he would sink himself into the water and finally truly rest his weary and aching bones, and wash away the stresses of the day even if it were only for the small duration of him being enveloped in the comforts of a warm bath. She wonders if he ever— 

No. Another thing she absolutely could not think about. A thought to avoid at all costs if she intended on ever being able to look him in the eye again. It was hard enough already as it was.

The tub finally fills just as she shakes her head to clear herself of the beginnings of what were certainly very perverse and not very platonic thoughts, thankfully allowing her to now focus on something else. She quickly disrobes, folding her clothes neatly and setting them aside on the chair in the corner of the room— a habit she’d picked up from watching him do it. 

The room, apart from the heat radiating off of the water in the tub, is chilly against her flushed skin, instantly raising gooseflesh all over her as she peels away the thin layers of clothing she’d been wearing. The tile feels icy against the bare soles of her feet as she returns to the tub, reaching over and grabbing the soap off of the shelf she’d placed it on earlier as she begins to submerge herself. 

The second her body dipped below the surface and the warm water completely enveloped her, she felt all tension in her body release like it had never been there to begin with. She hadn’t even used the soap yet and she felt the calming effects of it from the smell alone as she dunked it underwater. Lavender and a hint of citrus. 

Sometimes she caught a whiff of lavender when the window in the kitchen was open and the breeze would jostle the lavender plant that sat on the sill. She remembered Gale telling her that he loved the smell of fresh lavender. Not that that was the reason she bought the soap. Not at all. Not really.

She takes her time scrubbing each inch of her body, savoring this moment of pure bliss and wondering why she’d never enjoyed baths as much prior to this one. By the time she’s done, she dreads abandoning the comforts of the marble tub, but due to her fingertips pruning she knows that she’d probably been in there longer than she needed to be, and Gale was surely done cooking dinner by now. 

She begins to stand, the water and whatever remaining suds rinsing off of her and splashing loudly as she does, which you’d think would have been enough of an audio cue that she was still occupying the bathroom and prevent Gale from bursting into the bathroom, much to both of their horror.

She lets out a startled shriek and attempts to maintain her modesty by covering herself with her hands, which barely achieved anything. Gale quickly shields his eyes with his own hand, stammering and stuttering incoherent apologies and curses.

“I— I thought—  your bedroom door was closed, so I assumed you were in there— forgive me! I just—  um—” He clamors over himself trying to make any sort of sense at all, never moving his hand an inch out of the way of his eyes, closing them tightly for good measure. “D-Dinner is finished and on the table waiting for you when you’re ready. Take your time.” 

He darts out of the room, slamming the door behind him and the sound of hurried footsteps down the hall preceding. 

Her heart pounds in her chest as if it were a wardrum and she’s almost certain that she might actually die of embarrassment. If she doesn’t resort to drowning herself in the leftover bathwater to avoid going downstairs and facing him, first. 

She stands there, frozen in place for far too long before she realizes that she was very much still naked and drenched as a shiver rakes down her spine and her teeth start to chatter. 

Fine. The world’s most awkward dinner ever, it is. 

She wraps one of the towels she brought around her body, then the other around her shoulders for extra coverage before peeking her head out of the door, checking if the coast was clear before dashing down the hallway and into the safety of her bedroom. 

Once inside, she shuts the door with a loud click, then leans against the wood and sighs. 

Within one singular day, within at least an hour of each other, she’d rejected him (unintentionally, mind you), and he’d seen her bare naked body. After half a year of living together and nothing strange ever occurring between them aside from occasional extended loaded eye contact and a smile that felt like it bore hidden intent here and there that she brushed off and assumed it was just a glimmer of hope clouding her judgment. 

Accidents happen though, and he just so happened to accidentally manage to walk into the bathroom at the exact moment her entire naked body was visible from the doorway. Things happen. It’s fine. 

She recalls him saying that her bedroom door was shut and that was why he assumed it was safe for him to come in. She’s not sure why him noticing something like that made her stomach twist and do flips as if she were tumbling very suddenly down a hill, but it did all the same. She wonders what other things he notices about her, if anything else at all. The thought makes her throat run dry.

She pulls on an oversized blouse that fell well past the top of her thighs as well as a comfortable pair of pants, feeling the need to cover as much of herself as possible to maybe cancel out the fact that he’d seen everything only moments ago. It didn’t work, of course, but it was worth a try. 

Realizing that he was probably sitting at the table and waiting for her before eating, as he always did, she finally forces herself to face the inevitable and join him downstairs.

She peeks around the corner and sees him exactly where she expected him to be— the same seat he always sat in for any meals, opposite the chair she always sat in, staring blankly down at his plate, massaging his temples with his fingertips. He looks equally as perturbed by their encounter as she does, and she can’t tell if that is a comfort to her or if it made her want to shrink and disappear. 

She catches a flash of auburn and gray fur as Tara flies in from an open window and perches herself on the table beside Gale. He doesn’t acknowledge her physically, but utters a quiet ‘hello’ that sounds more like a groan. 

“Mr. Dekarios, you look as though you’ve seen a ghost!” She chirps, pawing at his bicep with concern. “Where is my favorite reading companion? Have you finally scared her off?”

Gale swats her paw off of his arm and shoots her a look of annoyance. “Not now, Tara.”

“Did something happen between you two? About time, I say. I do rather like having her around, you know.” The feathered feline continues, pacing in front of Gale and nearly stepping right in the middle of his plate before he scoots it away.

“I fear she may run for the hills like a bat out of a crypt after today,” He groans. “I’ve made a complete ass of myself. It seems to be my specialty these days.” 

“Mr. Dekarios, I may just be a simple tressym but I have it on good authority she won’t go anywhere.” Tara says, her tone meaningful and full of insinuation as she pokes and prods Gale’s arm once again. 

He looks at his companion with soft eyes full of despair, his entire body seeming to sag in his seat in contrast to his usually perfect and poised posture. “I hope you’re right.”

Silence fills the room as Tara comfortingly bumps her head against Gale’s shoulder, eliciting a sweet smile from him that makes her insides feel fuzzy. She waits a few moments more before exiting the stairway so as to not appear suspicious or that she’d been eavesdropping. Her steps are extra quiet as she carefully tiptoes into the dining room. Tara notices her first and greets her warmly. 

“Elara! There you are! How are you, my friend?” Tara calls to her, strutting across the large wooden surface of the dinner table to her side, sitting right next to her plate. 

She glances at Gale for a brief moment, his eyes boring into her as if he were anticipating something terrible to come from her mouth. She offers him a shy smile, then turns her attention back to Tara. 

“I’m well, thank you. I missed you this morning, Tara. Find any juicy pigeons to snack on?” She jokes, patting her head gently. Tara purrs and bumps her head against Elara’s palm, almost appearing to smile at the affectionate gesture. Gale’s eyes darted back and forth between his two companions rapidly, an unreadable expression on his face. 

She tilts her head at him in a silent inquiry, to which he simply waves his hand and invites her to sit.

“Oh, yes, of course. You’ll have to come with me some day.” She offers, and Elara chuckles. As silly as it was, she knew how sweet it was for Tara to invite her to join her for a hunt, regardless of whether or not she ever actually would. 

“I’d love to.”

She pulls out the chair and sits, eyeing her plate and finding that somehow her food was still steaming hot as if it were fresh, while Gale’s appeared to have gone cold and stale. 

“I warmed it for you.” He says, answering her question before she even had the chance to ask. She smiles a grateful smile before taking a bite, not realizing how hungry she’d been until the very second the food landed on her taste buds.

They eat mostly in silence, aside from the sound of Gale’s fork scraping against the plate as he pushes his food around. She wants to ask why he didn’t bother to heat his own plate as well, but doesn’t want to pry. Perhaps he just wasn’t that hungry. 

The echoes of something she overheard Gale say in response to Tara’s teasing linger in her mind, reverberating off of the walls of her skull as if he’d shouted them into the mouth of a cave. 

I hope you’re right. 

He hoped she’d stay. He wants her to stay. 

The sound of Tara taking flight startles her from her thoughts, catching a glimpse of the tail end of her as she flies toward the staircase, likely heading to her favorite spot in Gale’s office on a blanket right in front of the fireplace. The departure of what acted as the buffer for the awkward tension between the two of them made it impossible to ignore the proverbial owlbear in the room. 

Gale’s voice is the one that breaks the silence. “I apologize again— for earlier. I should have knocked.” 

She waves him off, keeping her gaze focused on her plate. “Things happen.” 

He clears his throat, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “I just fear that I’ve made you uncomfortable more than once today.” 

Now her gaze is locked right on him, confusion coating her features. When he notices, he sighs. 

“When I asked you if you wanted to go for a stroll. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” 

Oh. 

Gods, why is he so damn considerate? 

“No, no,” she says, her voice softening and her eyes matching it. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable at all.”

It’s his turn to be confused now, his eyebrows knitted together and mouth pressed into a line. “Why did you say no, then?” 

What answer could she give him that wasn’t entirely incriminating? ‘I said no because I’m in love with you and you make me nervous’? Not a chance. 

“I… I’m just feeling a little tired today.” 

He eyes her and suddenly it’s like she’s completely naked under his gaze once again, only she nearly feels even more exposed now than she did when she was actually naked. He can tell there’s more to it, but he doesn’t push. He never pushes.

“Well, do know that I’m always here if you need to talk. If there’s something bothering you, just say the word and I’ll do what I can to help.” 

Only there isn’t anything he can do to help— hells, even this conversation is doing the very opposite of helping. 

“Thank you, Mr. Dek— I mean— Gale.” She smiles sheepishly, earning a disgruntled smirk from Gale at her slip up. 

She remembers a conversation they had not too long after she moved in, where he told her that referring to him as ‘Mr. Dekarios’ was unnecessary, and preferred that she just called him Gale. For her comfort, but also his own. He didn’t delve into why, but she just assumed that that was a Tara exclusive thing and never questioned it further.

“My pleasure,” He breathes, pushing his chair back and standing with his plate in hand. “I apologize, but I may turn in early tonight. Don’t worry about your dish when you’re finished, I’ll take care of it in the morning.”

She watches him as he scrapes his plate into the waste bin and then places it in the sink basin, rubbing his hands together and then turning to head for the stairs. He breezes past her and she catches a whiff of that familiar scent she’d caught from the robes hanging in the bathroom— sandalwood, bergamot, and a hint of old parchment. Something she would try not to think about if she weren’t reminded of it everyday that she spent surrounded by him, still feeling as though he were in the room with her even when he was away.

Just before his foot lands on the first stair, she turns and calls to him. He pauses, turning his entire body at the sound of her voice.

“Thank you, again. Goodnight.” 

He beams at her, his smile reaching his deep brown eyes that she could see the twinkle in even from across the room. She swears she’d even be able to see it from miles away.

“Goodnight, Elara.” 

~

Lavender. Gale loved the smell of lavender. 

It lingered throughout the halls and wafted out from the bathroom for hours after her bath, and he found himself stopping just outside the doorway without realizing it, as if some invisible force was drawing him to it. As if that smell were a siren’s call, and he was a fisherman lost at sea being lured into her claws. He smelled it on her when she came downstairs, her hair still damp and falling in her face, her skin still flushed from the warmth of the water. 

Selfishly, he could not get the image of her out of his head— the elegant curves of her body and the way it glistened as the hazy light of dusk paired with candlelight cast an ethereal glow that almost made her seem like nothing more than a conjured illusion. Though, he was sure no wizard would ever be able to conjure something as meticulously crafted as her, something that exquisite couldn’t have even been sculpted by the gods. 

It felt wrong and he felt the weight of guilt on his shoulders for violating her privacy tenfold, and yet, his brain could not seem to let him forget for even a fraction of a second. He was incredibly thankful he was able to make it downstairs and hide his arousal under the table before she saw him again and was truly put off by him. He cursed himself internally for being unable to contain himself— one can’t always be a gentleman, it seems.  

It was purely a miracle that he managed to contain himself as he walked past her to finally retire to his bedroom after what felt like the most mentally exhausting day. It was a miracle every day that he managed to contain himself around her, really. Especially on days that she wore dresses— he adored dresses on her. He pictured taking her for a proper evening out in Waterdeep. Greeting her at the door with flowers, walking hand in hand and buying her dinner, showing her all of his favorite parts of the place he loved most in the world, then kissing her goodnight on the stoop and smiling like a giddy schoolboy the entire rest of the night after they departed. 

He’d been enraptured by her from the first moment he laid eyes on her, the first time he ran into her and Alastor at Sorcerous Sundries— so much so, that he completely forgot what he’d even gone there for and entirely abandoned whatever it was and returned home as quickly as possible, his heart racing as if it were trying to escape his chest and run right into her grasp. Sometimes he thinks maybe it has. 

And then when Alastor asked him to let her stay with him, all hope of properly courting her the way she deserved had somehow been entirely dashed in an instant. While you’d think having the object of your desires right within your own home at all times would make things easier— it did not. It only further complicated an already somewhat complicated situation. 

He valued his friendship with Alastor greatly, and feared that he would not take kindly to him beginning a romantic relationship with his only niece who had basically been raised as his daughter. She was worth trying for, he’d decided, and had been planning on coming around more and getting to know her the right way— and the rest is history.

Now, he’s tormented by her being so close and yet not close enough to touch. To occupy the same home as her, but never the same space was downright agonizing. 

She had become the bane of his very existence, only because every day she made it even harder to resist her. 

For example, the way she interacted with Tara— whom, mind you, generally disliked most other humans aside from himself and his mother— the way Tara greeted her with such ardor, not too different from the way she would greet him. The way she not only allowed her to pet her head, but even purred as she did so. Tara is many things, but easily swayed by people is not one of them. And yet, she welcomes her into their home as if she’d always been there. As if she’d been simply waiting for her to come home all this time. 

It had begun to feel that way for Gale as well— his heart ached at the thought of Alastor coming home and her leaving again. While he missed his friend, he could not deny that he’d miss her presence in this house much more. 

He felt himself going mad. Absolutely and truly round the bend crazy over her. 

He wasn’t proud of what he’d done the second he made it into his bedchamber for the night. 

To make matters worse, it wasn’t even the first time he’d done such a thing. 

The pained straining of his erection against his clothing was making his entire body ache along with it, as if it were punishing him for neglecting it for as long as he had. The second he released it from the confines of his pants and underclothes, a bead of precum leaked and he groaned. 

Gods, this is madness. 

Perhaps maybe if he did this, he could get it out of his system and forget about it all in the morning. Yes, he thought, that makes perfectly logical and reasonable sense. 

He clumsily strips his day clothes off apart from his underwear, uncharacteristically discarding it into a heap beside his bed before jumping into the expanse of the large mattress in the center of the room and making himself comfortable. 

He looks down at his own pathetically swollen and throbbing cock, and he almost wishes he could call her into his room and show her the effect she has on him. He pictures her long dark curls fanned out across the pillows at the head of the bed, the way her complexion would be complimented so beautifully by the violet silk sheets beneath her, her legs spread for him. The way he’d devour her and drink her in as if she were the richest wine or the sweetest peach in all of Faerun. The way his name would sound cried from her lips in pure ecstasy. 

The thought alone was enough to bring him closer to the edge— hells, he was sure he’d been on the brink of orgasm for longer than he’d like to admit. He was almost certain the second he began to pump himself into his fist that he’d be done for. 

He started slowly, hoping to savor it for at least a few minutes and give himself more time to indulge in his fantasies. His chest heaved and his cheeks flushed with desire, and he had to try to keep himself quiet on the off chance that she could overhear him. Despite his efforts, he grunted softly as his pace quickened, now pumping himself with a steady rhythm that felt right— that if he closed his eyes, he could picture her on top of him, instead. 

That didn’t last long, as within a minute he was spilling onto his own stomach and coming completely undone, chanting her name in breathy whispers over and over as if it were a prayer without even realizing he was saying anything at all in his lust addled haze.

He grips himself as he rides out the aftershocks until the sensation was entirely too much and he had to let go, his entire body going limp and exhaustion finally presenting itself to him and each one of the muscles he’d just expended in that process. He looks down wearily at the mess he’d made of himself, and throws his head back into the pillows. 

He wonders if her pillows smell like lavender. He imagines that they do. 

God I am a shameless wizard kisser I need him so bad I need him in a way that needs to be studied in a lab

this is part one of a series - ✧ (chapter 2)

[ashesandhackles]

Why Ginny fell in love with Harry?

Many say she's perfect for Harry ( which is true) but people forget and don't mention how perfect Harry is for Ginny and why she loves him

What are your thoughts about this?

oooof, i can answer why Ginny likes him, but Harry as he is canon needs work to do before he can be a perfect partner to Ginny (or anyone else, for that matter).

First things first, Ginny likes (and aspires to be) a hero - "I knew you wouldn’t be happy unless you were hunting Voldemort. Maybe that’s why I like you so much."

Bill Weasley was her first hero - someone she and Ron clearly look up to, admire and kinda want to emulate: " “I’ve looked forward to coming to Hogwarts ever since B-Bill came” in CoS, her parents planning a trip to Egypt (to see Bill) post her very traumatic first year, and of course, "Bill doesn't like him either," she said as though that settled the matter.

Bill, as we see in canon, is extremely brave, kind/ non-judgemental (the fact that Ron can go to him with something he is ashamed of speaks volumes on who Bill is), an acts of service kinda caretaker (Bill moving back to the UK to be close to his parents, Bill moving them out of the Burrow to Muriels). These are the qualities Ginny finds admirable - and these are the qualities Harry also shares.

Harry never makes fun of Ginny's crush - quite rare for a 12 year old (pretending not to notice that she stuck her elbow in the butter dish), is quite kind and has saving-the-people-thing which covers the acts of service quality. He is also funny - and has a biting humour that Ginny very clearly appreciates. The only scene of them together as a couple in HBP has both of them feeding into the tattoo joke to take down Ron - "what did you tell them Ron's got?" "a Pygymy Puff, I didnt say where".

That said, growing into a perfect partner for Ginny post war - Harry has work to do. In canon, Harry has idealised Ginny into "something out of someone else's life" where he can see her marrying someone in a Voldemort free future. She is his "best source of comfort".

Given what Hogwarts was under Death Eaters, given the fact that Ginny is a revolutionary leader in her own right of DA, Harry and her have to fill gaps of their vastly different experience of war, and perhaps not corral her out of his regular dangerous life because he can't stand a repeat of Sirius' death ("what if this was your funeral, and it was my fault?"). @whinlatter does a very, very good job of exploring this dynamic in Beasts.

Anyway, that's my two cents.

[bronx-bomber87]

Happy Monday lovely fandom. Lots to love about this one. Their opening scene is *chefs kiss* Some good Metro Tim. Really good Tim SL in general. Love this episode it’s fantastic for a lot of reasons. Let us begin shall we?

5x19 A Hole in the World.

We start off with some domestic Chenford and I’m here for it. Gimme. Lucy is studying in what looks to be one of Tim’s shirts. *squee* Pen in her bun looking all kinds of adorable. Tim stumbles out of her bedroom looking dead on his feet. Lucy having coffee ready for her sleepy boyfriend is everything. Her soft voice and excited features when she sees him is so precious. Gah she loves this man.

Ecstatic she gets to see him before work. Spend a little time together. She asks when he got in? Tim replying depends on what day it is? Ha Poor tired Tim. Lucy shooting back 'That bad huh?' Tim saying he’s eighty percent sure it’s Thursday LOL Lucy crushing his dreams telling him it’s Tuesday….His face is too funny. Poor man needs a day off in bed and snuggle time with his wife.

Lucy asks him what he was working on last night? I just love the whole feel in this scene. Him waking up all sleepy. Lucy is there happy to greet him. Little banter. Asking about what he’s working on. Married vibes in this moment. Lucy saying she stayed up incase she would catch him. Hoping the guy would turn himself in. Risking losing sleep to see her man. My Heart.

Tim says he did show up though. Showing her his battle scar. I saw a great parallel about this moment. That in past she had to ask if he was ok. Now he just shares it with her. She doesn't have to wonder. *happy sigh* Then we get the most glorious thing of all she calls him ‘Babe.’ Which I absolutely love. I think it’s so fitting for her to call him this. Unpopular opinion alert. I hate ‘baby.’ I legit cringe when I see it in a fic. Will straight bounce if it’s used to death as well. Just doesn’t seem like them IMO.

Babe seems much more fitting. Until I hear that word come out of either of their mouths. (Not counting Dim/Juicy) I can’t accept it as canon in my brain. Anyways that rant is over ha I love the concern and the way she softly touches his wound. Wanting to fix it for him. Can we talk about the tight fitting tank top and scruff? My god this man is trying to kill me. Sleepy scruffy Tim in his jams is welcome anytime. Give me more tank top Tim as well while we're at it. Loving that he has a hoodie there when he wakes up.

Which lends credence to my drawer theory. Man is keeping clothes there. I’m melting from all of these things at once. This is a fantastic opening scene for them. I love the way he shows her his wound first thing. Wanting her to make it better. The softest of humans around his girl. The way she gently touches it has me reeling. You know part of him showed her so she’d love on him a bit. Lucy jumped all over that and a sweet pet name to boot. I’m in heaven.

Lucy mentioning it was confident of this guy to try and take on 5 metro officers. I'm losing my mind over how once Tim is seated he’s not close enough for her. So Lucy pulls him even closer. Personal space wasn’t a word they knew before they were together. It’s non existent now that they are. Lucy lights up like a Christmas tree once he’s in front of her. Look at her above. Best thing to happen to her morning is him being there.

That line from 2x05 'They look so happy. I want that.' Now she has it and it looks good on her. Tim’s content ‘Mmm' and head tilt has me melting after she pulls him closer. His sweet gone for her smile and rubbing her arm. I'm a puddle. He is just as happy to be near her. Literally so content to share a quiet morning with his girl *internal screaming* They’re so adorable they might kill me. I’ll be writing the remaining reviews from the great beyond. So damn soft I’m on a cloud.

Once Tim is able to tear himself from her loving gaze he sees she’s studying. Genuinely confused asking what this is all is? I love her playful hit. Thinking he's pulling her leg. Tim is so baffled by this. She reminds him she’s studying for the detectives exam. Then questioning if she told him. I mean she might’ve but the man is sleep deprived and doesn’t know what day it is so...LOL

Tim replying he doesn’t think so? Lucy explaining why she’s going for it. Tim asking if she got the tap? Lucy is beaming when she tells him Harper and Lopez are backing her. (Of course they are. They know what a BAMF she is) Lucy looks so excited to share this news with him. Look at how proud he is of her. Exuding from that sexy smile of his. These are the moments where he’s that big softy for her.

Look at this love struck man. So proud of her he can’t stand it. Lucy starting with a little bit of self doubt. Saying with skepticism all she has to do is score in the top 12. Tim cuts her off before she can doubt herself any further. Saying she will. He knows how good of a test taker she is. Also how incredibly intelligent she is. He is her biggest fan and makes my heart so happy. Something that hasn’t changed from friends to more. Tim’s unwavering faith she will be amazing. No doubt in his mind about her crushing this.

From day one all he’s wanted is for her to succeed. To have an amazing career. Such the supportive husband not letting her doubt herself at all. I love her ‘Mmm’ as she leans in for their kiss. Heart eyes galore for him. Knowing that’s what he’s doing fo her. Her smile before she goes in for their kiss. *dreamy sigh* Always needing more than one kiss so they sneak in a second one. Forever love that. Such a great shot of a really cute morning kiss.

I adore the look on his face when he pulls back. That whole she fell first he fell harder resonating here in that look. The sweet rubbing of her arm getting me in feels as well. Can't keep his hands off her. Tim saying they better get used to not seeing each other then. Lucy adding in sadly yes. Between his hours and detective hours it'll be harder. Can see the sadness wash over her. Just as devastated by this idea as she was at the end of 5x12. Hating the idea of being apart from him so much. I do love Tim’s confidence it’ll be ok though.

Reminds me of Lucy’s in 5x12 and her talk with Tamara. Saying how they’d figure it out and they did. Little rocky but they did. This is a new obstacle for them to overcome is all. I love his wink at her when he tells her they’ll figure it out. It is fun to see their dynamic shift a little bit. Lucy being worried they’ll see less of each other. The worry is etched on her face. Tim being the positive one blows me away. Knowing they got this. Now that doesn’t mean they don’t need to have a deeper convo about this.

They for sure do. But I adore the depth of change in this man. With Lucy by his side there isn’t much he isn’t willing to do to figure it out. What happens when you are truly and unconditionally loved. Lucy has brought out this entirely new side of him and I love it so very much. Also it’s good for them to have these issues to work through. It’ll be productive for them even if it hurts a little along the way. Why productive angst is the best. Hurts so good and all that.

Nothing I love more than watching Tim in Metro mode. Hot damn. Fair warning he makes me very feral in this section. I have no regrets. Grey has looped in Tim and his team to watch Joel. Surveil him since he is a huge person of interest. Something about the the way he commands his team. Does things to me. Watching how he has plans in place.

Communicates everything so seamlessly. Just the complete control he has over this OP got me all hot and bothered not gonna lie. This case is serious but I can’t ignore how much I love watching him in the field. Especially with Metro. Phew lord. So much certainty in his commands and decisions. Crossed my legs couple times watching him in action not gonna lie LOL

We haven’t really gotten to see him on a mission yet. Be apart of patrol's mission's yes. But run his own OP that is exclusively Metro that we get to see? Haven't gotten that. I loved being able to watch him in his new element. Making calls on the fly as the situation develops. Then we get to see how he reacts under massive pressure running a team. He is watching Joel and it's obvious he is trying to split his team up. Tim can see his play from a mile away. Tim decides last minute to split them up in case. His seasoned gut coming into play in this decision. He's such a damn boss in this portion. Fanning myself as I watch him run this OP.

If you can watch him in this portion and not be turned on by his boss leadership I'm shocked.... and you're probably lying to yourself. LMAO Man is making me very thirsty in this scene. Just watching him have absolute control over everything around him is incredibly attractive. I need some water. *phew* We watch the hard choices he has to make during this OP. Joel has taken a motorcycle and they’re chasing him.

It’s getting more dangerous the faster he goes to get away. One of his guys is in pursuit and says he can keep up with him. The issue is he's in a car and Joel is not. Tim lets him pursue Joel till it gets too risky. Joel is going 130 entering the free way on that motorcycle. Tim makes the call to pull the plug despite some protest from his guy. He does as Tim tells him to and backs off.

He can't ensure no collateral damage due to the pursuit. Can't have an innocent family possibly get hurt to do it. Having to let him go despite wanting to pursue him. We can see how having to make this call frustrates Tim. It was the right call but damn it sucks. Once again love watching him in the field. Imma need more Metro Tim OP's in s6 writers just an FYI.

We return to Lucy at the station. They were able to locate Joel at an abandoned house. The kid was saved and removed thankfully. Sadly Tim had to shoot Joel once they entered and located him. He died on the scene. Didn’t leave him any choice in the matter. The shakiness in Lucy’s voice kills me as she approaches Nyla. Needing her guidance in this moment. Very stressed Tim still isn't back from IA yet.

She’s so worried about Tim and her anxiety is coming off her in waves. Harper being the amazing human can see this. She is tells her it’s ok. Harper can see how unsettled Lucy is. So she tries to calm her with some logic. Telling her that these types of interviews with IA are very through. They take awhile. That Tim will be fine. Lucy still looks like she hasn’t taken a breath though. That she can't do that till he's in her sights.

Tim makes his way into the bullpen and Lucy looks on verge of tears for him. That pull to go towards him is innate. Harper stops her when she sees Lucy move towards him. Telling her to let him talk to Grey first. She loves him so much. The look in her eyes when she sees him and her eyes follow him across the room. Ugh. My heart. Worried girlfriend mode has been activated and she can’t turn it off. There is just so much love in her expression and intense worry. A deep need to automatically make this better for him.

We can see how much she is longing to be near him. Wants to wrap him up in her arms and erase his pain. You can feel the anxiety coursing through her as she watches him make his way to Grey’s office. No one worries and cares for Tim like Lucy does that’s for sure. Plus her empathy is absorbing it all as well. She’s hurting because he is and it’s killing her to be away from him. But she is good and heeds Nylas advice to let him go for now….

The scene in Grey’s office has me crying. Gah Eric damn you and your amazing acting. He is WRECKED. Absolutely wrecked. Barely keeping it together in front of Wade. You can see the tears brimming in his eyes. He’s so emotional right now and trying so very hard to keep it in check. I'm so glad that they had this scene. Touched on how traumatic this was for Tim. Wasn’t glossed over. This scene showing the impact it had on him. Not only did he take a life but it was another cop's. One who KNEW Tim would have to pull the trigger if he forced his hand. Joel took the cowards way out. Made Tim pay the price for his exit.

Grey can see how distraught he is. The tears in this man’s eyes are breaking me. If Lucy could see this he would be in her arms so quickly. But she isn’t. I'm so glad he saw Wade first he needed this. Was important for Grey to absolve him in this moment. To hear it from someone who was his mentor and superior at one time. Not that Lucy’s opinion or help isn’t valid or wouldn’t help him. It will. He just needed to hear it from Grey first. That what he did was the right thing.

It’s why Harper suggested he see him first. Before she does. Logically Tim knows all the things he’s telling him. But he’s an emotional time bomb right now. So Grey reminds him that he had no choice. That he was dangerous. Tim repeating ‘I know’ because he does. Doesn’t change how he’s feeling though. I love Wade asking if there’s anything he can do? Tim gives his longest answer telling him to let him get back to him. Such a good scene. Broke my heart but damn good.

We return to our lovely couple catching up in the hallway. What a glow up this is I have to say. Going from hiding to Lucy being on his arm in front of the whole bullpen. The PDA in front of the station got me all in my feels. My heart may implode from how happy this makes me. Love her linking arms with one hand and touching his arm with the other. His reply to her question is such growth for him.

Before when he was keyed up he would just be angry. Lash out at those around him or push his feelings down and pretend he was ok. The fact that he can say he’ll be okay is huge. Tells her this calmly too. What a change in him. I remember seeing good parallel for this. His answer to Nell in 1x12 deflecting 'Yeah' and his reply to Angela in 2x11 when he was upset raging out. That he was fine just needed to blow off steam. With Lucy he's honest and doesn't deflect or explode. How far we've come.

Makes a massive difference when you’re loved by the right person. Lucy tries to be super soft in her approach. It’s why she’s does the soft touch first. It disarms him and she can speak her anxiety. Let out all the advice she’s been dying to say since he got back. Wanting so badly to soothe his raging emotions. Tim cuts her off and says it’s not the first time for him. Being bristly at first because it is still a default mode for him. Grown a lot but still getting used to the love and support of this woman next to him.

Lucy doesn’t let it stop her from being extra soft with him. She looks like she just wants absorb all his pain. Her eyes screaming as much as she touches her hand to his heart. Telling him she just wants to be helpful. Desperate to absolve him of this. He immediately melts at her touch and reverts back to soft Tim. Especially with her motives being so damn pure and in favor of helping him heal. Two episodes in a row she soothes him with just a simple touch. God I love them.

Tim thanks her eternally grateful for this woman in front of him. That she loves him and cares enough to do so. Put him first even when he’s slightly bristly still. Just like before they were together she doesn’t care if he is. Her main objective is to take care of him. He rubs her arm in the same affectionate manner as he did in their morning scene. This sweet touch speaking volumes for him. He’s so used to doing this stuff alone. To not have someone to be there in the aftermath.

But having her there for him changes everything. That realization melting his bristly reply from earlier. Heart eyes for days the two of them. In front of the entire station and I can’t get over it. Lucy giving him massive ones in reply to his thank you. Wanting so much to just make it better for him. Feeling like she isn't doing enough to help him though this. It's the way her body sags in that third gif. Wishing there was more she could do for him.

Tim needing the distraction from his emotions asking if she needs help? We watch Lucy melt like a puddle in front of him in the second gif. Loving him asking her if she needs it. Because despite the distraction it provides he genuinely wants to help her. Then we get a glorious call back to 2x02. Him basically recognizing all she did for him then in this moment. Knowing he wouldn’t be a sergeant without her. Without the books she recorded for him. Helping him study etc. Getting verbal recognition all these years later from him.

I too am a puddle Lucy. Not only recognizing her for what she did but telling her he wouldn’t have gotten score he did without her. (He really wouldn't have...) It’s here we see the scene go from serious to flirty as hell. Lucy touching his chest once again with her finger. Saying that’s true he owes her. Lucy seems so excited by this idea. Ready to cash in this long owed debt of his. Tim is smiling when she pokes him. Not an agitated bone in that man's body over this.

Tim is sassy af in his reply. Telling her he doesn’t owe her. Even though he was just a marshmallow and admitted as such moments ago... The flirty way she grabs his jacket. Oh my lord. The look in her eye as she walks away. Eyeing his lips and pulling on his jacket. Sweet lord this man is powerless before her. He knows it. Doesn’t fight her very long just says ‘Okay’ and goes after his girl. Never seen a man be so happy to be whipped in my life.

He is so ok that she runs this relationship for most part. We all know he actually loves this. Assertive Lucy is one of his favorites. Look at Lucy giving the orders and Tim following her lead no question. How times have changed folks. Broke his brain once again and all he can do is be in awe and follow after her. Such a goner for her and he’s very happy with this setup.

Follows her like a lost puppy out the door. Only Lucy could bring him back from the brink like this. Go from being upset and in his head to chasing after her. I love the amount of flirty sex talk these to have without ever really saying so. It’s amazing. Lucy definitely is owed a debt my god. He’s the one who passed the test but not without her help. Just like in 4x18 a debt is owed sir LOL Damn I love these two so very much it’s insane. S5 was a glorious gift. Kept on giving. Also if you’re needing a post 5x19 fic. D wrote an excellent one I highly recommend.

~~~~

Side notes -non Chenford

Lucy is so excited when she runs up to Harper at the station. Ready to sign up for the detectives exams. Telling Nyla she’s ready for this test. Harper is beaming saying she has no doubt. Then Smitty comes up and ruins everything. Saying one of the defective have out it out for her. We knew the 5 player trade could bite her… and it looks like it has Primm found out and isn’t happy about it. Be interesting to see how this will develop on s6.

Aaron’s face when Lucy calls herself one of the cool kids LOL hey man she is... haha

This Ep is Sooo good reminds me why I love this show as a whole. So emotional with Celina’s SL. Makes me cry thinking about my niece and nephew. There would be scorched earth for whoever got between me and them. This was the ep really made me love Celina. I wasn’t sure at first but this changed that. Her forgiving her mom is huge. Makes me cry.

I love Lucy being a BAMF with that offender. Putting him right in his own place when he gets defensive about it being harassment. Never be over how she's come into her own as a cop.

Angela looking up air tagging her kids LOL love her I really do haha

Thank you to my amazing readers who like, comment (love these) and reblogs. You are the reason I do what I do. I shall see you all in 5x20 :)

[maaarshieee]

Ok, my first time requesting but can I request Scaramouche x gn! Reader where the reader is his lover and is cursed to turn to stone, and he tries to find a cure for it.

⎯⎯ ୨ With Me Forever Though Breathless ୧ ⎯⎯

ੈ♡˳ Kunikuzushi/Scaramouche/Wanderer x Gn!Reader *ೃ༄

ੈ♡˳ 2.9k words ┊ Fluff to Angst *ೃ༄

ੈ♡˳ Masterlist | Part 2 *ೃ༄

author's note ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

truthfully i was gonna decline this but i just had a really good fucking idea the moment i was about to delete it. sorry if it was angst my dearest anon, but this is all i can think of! I've always thought there's always beauty in the last stage of grief in a writer sense. anyways, what do you think of my post format now? hehe, ty for reading! have a good day/night!! i decided to scrap "beliefs" pt 2 to make a pt 2 of this one instead! i promise pt 2 is fluff and shorter!!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ cw: implied character death, kinda? reader is alive but also not, reader is geo user, non canon occurrences, made up concepts, mentions of reader having a mother, injury, 3.3 spoilers (archon quest) & wanderer lore (kinda? its more evident in pt 2 though)

Kunikuzushi promised himself two things the day he burnt the straw hut his child friend resided in; rid of these hindrances called emotions and never trust a human once again, to never see one as a companion, just as the same mistake he's done too many times.

After his third betrayal, he was sure that he'd learn from the fallacies of human nature, that at the beginning of his wandering, he'd treat mortals similarly. To never form bonds with the vermin that crawled all corners of Teyvat.

Ignoring the humans that tried to approach in a friendly manner, cursing them away, and disregarding their wellbeing, he wandered alone but often used humans as temporary companions if he ever needed directions.

That continued for many years to come, and his bitter resentment grew inexplicably without cease, only to flourish further into deep hatred. Not only to humanity but to the gods they pathetically worship as well.

And yet when he met you, his resolve crumbled to ashes. Kunikuzushi hadn't meant to leave himself bare and vulnerable for you to take advantage of— Though, you never did such things, it was just a ruse for himself to believe.

Of all the traveling companions he's had so far, you've stuck by his side longer and were more competent in the world of outdoor life. Not to mention that everywhere he seemed to go, people knew of you, albeit only a little. You were eccentric to the people of Inazuma, Liyue, Sumeru— everywhere.

You were similar to him, he mused. Like a feather drifting in the wind, catching the attention of many but your presence was brief as if you were never there, leaving a small imprint in people's memories as you vanish nearly without a trace.

Perhaps that was the reason you've stayed with him for so long, tolerating his arrogant behavior and sharp tongue, countering it smoothly with the same level of riposte. You were truly a human like no other.

Especially when he awakes in the middle of the night, the moon still high up in the skies with ragged breathes and tears staining his crystalline eyes. A light sleeper, you were, so you opt to start the fire once more. A kind gesture to warm himself up from his night terrors, and either walk not too far away to allow himself to recollect himself, or sit somewhere close to him, but also far away enough to not be suffocating in his vulnerable moments.

A cool, tingling feeling spreads throughout his body whenever you do, as well as actions and gestures similar to it. A wave of serenity... The same as he felt when he was back at Tatarasuna. And now, it was too late for him before he'd realized that he yearns for you dearly, much more than he desired to.

Just like that, you've become friends, to the puppet's dismay. The only one who could hold him back from starting fights with your kind, cool his temper bit by bit, and... willing to be his friend, though he never made you promise as he did with his child friend.

One day, you spoke to him with the intention to tease, sitting atop a tree branch whilst he finished setting up your camp for the night, for it was his turn.

"You look down on my kind as if we are insects, correct?" Kunikuzushi let out a drawn-out sigh, prepared to ignore all the words that are about to roll off your tongue, for you often bothered him with baseless questions to pass time. "Why is it you look at me a mite differently?"

Kunikuzushi grabbed the piles of sticks you'd collected beforehand, sat himself down on a log, and began to start a fire, rather irate at the question you asked. "You must've been hallucinating to believe such things." He rebuked, putting a pot over the fire.

Loud shuffling of leaves can be only heard for a while, and he was compelled to sneak a glance at you, only to see you hanging off the branch with your legs, a big wide grin on your face as your continued your observation on him. It made him scoff, muttering; "I hope you fall."

"Hmm, how do I say this..." You hummed in thought, fingers rubbing your chin while Kunikuzushi cooked you a meal. No matter how much he says he hates you, he always insists to cook for you due to your poor cooking abilities. This only became more apparent when you ate burnt meat on a whim, saying 'food is food'.

Jumping down the branch, you took a seat across from him as he passed you a wooden bowl of the soup he made, drooling at the delectable aroma. "You see, back when I was a young bird, before I left my mother's nest to spread my wings and explore Teyvat, I was terrified of insects." You reminisce, expression softening whilst you continued to sip on his soup, the fire reflecting in your eyes warmly, dancing in your irises. Kunikuzushi couldn't bring himself to look away, hands clenching into fists.

"A bird afraid of its own prey?" He mocked with a laugh, a brow raised at your faraway figure, shaking his head once he saw the mess you've accumulated around your lips. "When you're going to start spouting metaphors, think before you speak, else it won't make sense." Kunikuzushi wouldn't help but let out a sigh as he wipes your mouth with a clean cloth.

And you let him, leaning close to him and pouting at his comment, brows furrowed. Deciding to ignore his words, you continued, "And my mother would always tell me that I shouldn't be repulsed by insects! They help spread pollen, eat other pests, and many more, yet I always cried the same thing over and over;

Kill it, mother! I hate things that crawl and dirty!

And my dear mother would sigh with a smile on her lips, looking down at the poor insect. But instead of crushing it, she picks it up and chaperones the innocent bug outside of the confinements of our home, safe and sound."

The puppet stayed silent for the whole duration of your storytelling, and would never admit that he had listened to your every word intently. After you had finished speaking, he asked a rather simple question. "Why?"

And, as such, you gave him that same dazzling smile that makes his breath hitch. "I asked the same question whenever she does it, and her answer is the same as always.

Like insects, they have their own significant duties to fulfill in their short span of lives. Though they aren't as exuberant as a human's life, I just think we all are similar, in a way.

After a few more occurrences like that, I've learnt to admire the beauty within an insect! Its role in the ecosystem, anatomy, and pretty patterns— they're just fascinating!"

Kunikuzushi clicked his tongue when he ascertained that everything you've said bared fruitless to quell his curiosity over the purpose of your storytelling. It was solely what it was, a story you've told to waste his time. (Though he dared not to divulge that it did pique his interest.) "Just what is the relevance of this boring story of yours to your claim of me 'looking at your differently'?" He crossed his arms, waiting for a more befitting answer.

You placed your empty bowl down, staring at him straight into his eyes, cheek on your palm. Kunikuzushi found himself uneased by your watchful gaze. "I just think there's a similarity in our experiences." You confidently stated, "When we first met, your general opinion of me was alike with others of my kind: wretched vermin who is not worth your time. But as minutes turns to hours, and hours turn to days of me being with you, ever so persistent to be your traveling companion, you've grown fond of me, haven't you?"

What a bold claim it was, it even made Kunikuzushi rethink how he felt about you and your constant company. Furrowing his brows, he hung his head, face now hidden under his hat. You simply let out an amused huff, "So much so that instead of squishing me to my death, a small insect, you'd either pick me up and put me somewhere where no other could hurt me or admire me."

As expected, the puppet stood up abruptly from where he sat, turning away from you and straying away from camp, not without saying unpleasantries toward you. "Such a foolish imagination you have. You're nothing but a mere ant I would not hesitate to step on. For now, you are kept alive, for you've proved yourself useful."

You only giggled at his retreating form, shaking your head. You were quite used to his mannerisms at this point, knowing him like the back of your hand.

It was also ironic for Kunikuzushi, for a few days after that night, you had become lovers. And ever since, you've always teased him for his declaration and then after that, he asked the locals of Inazuma about love.

But as you all know, this story will always end in a tragedy. It was just how Kunikuzushi's story was written, and fated to end as if it was merely a tragic drama, similar to the ones you've both seen in traditional theaters during your journey toward nowhere.

It was the day when he committed his 1st betrayal.

Both of you could've made out that fight against a group of rogues unscathed. Unlike him, you were a trained sword user, wielding your blade with utter professionalism and confidence. You even taught him how to properly use a blade, adding to his knowledge of the art of swords alike, both how to wield such weapons and to forge them. The only problem though? One of them aimed for your Vision that hung proudly from your belt, timing it perfectly as you swung, attacking your blindspot, and the sword they held pierced right through your Vision.

Now, while Kunikuzushi was never interested in Visions, he knew that those things were indestructible. The residents of Tatarasuna taught him so, as well as you, the first Geo Vision user he's ever seen. So why did yours burst into pieces of shattered glass, golden elemental liquid oozing out of its golden case and burning your skin, carving and merging onto you?

He couldn't understand and neither did you, standing there in shock. He didn't even hear the rouges leave, running away in fear. With a loud cry of pain, Kunikuzushi watched you fall down to your knees, clutching the area where the unknown substance hardened and slowly became part of you.

It was a phenomenon unheard of, even the elders of Inazuman Villages were bemused by your little situation. Doctors were all the same; useless. There were no records of it ever happening before, which meant you were the first. Hell, even Vahumana scholars from the fabled Sumeru Akademiya who were stationed in Inazuma had no knowledge of it. And as the days go by, the element that you now recognized as Cor Lapis spread throughout your body, slowly engulfing your form and hardening your body, and soon, your organs.

First, it devoured your skin mercilessly, and you cried tears every day, clinging onto Kunikuzushi for comfort even though his skin was just as hard as the Cor Lapis spreading throughout, uncontrollably shaking in fear. It hurt, the pain was nigh endless, the Geo mineral taking more and more of you. And now you were growing sickly due to the high elemental exposure.

Kunikuzushi could see it in your eyes. The pain, the fear, the confusion. All of it, and he couldn't bare to see you like this. The lover that was once full of joy and energy, always having a pep on their step and dragging him to wherever they wanted was slowly fading, the visage of it becoming nothing but a memory as it takes the form of the miserable, pained version of it. So, regrettably, he left you by the time your legs were fully taken by the Geo element, asking for the innkeeper to keep an eye on you.

The last thing he heard was your pleas for him to return, to stay with you in your times of peril, and perhaps your last moments of life. But Kunikuzushi turned a blind eye to it all, for the heaviness in his chest, the tears that pricked his eyes— it all became too much to bear, even for him, who have experienced devastation in every step he took.

He should've been more considerate of how you felt. Sure, he was suffering, but yours were far greater than his, especially now the love of your life left you to rot.

Kunikuzushi had betrayed you, his dearest lover. The one who was adamant about staying by his side. The only one he knew, deep inside his hollow body, that you would never betray him like the rest of them did. Leaving you in the time you needed him...? It was as if he spat on your face, disgrading you.

And on the day he returned, a century and a half had already passed. He had joined the Fatui not too long ago. The names Kabukimono and Kunikuzushi disregarded, now known as The Balladeer, or Scaramouche.

The guilt that swallowed him worsened, seeing you at the heart of the village, a body now completely hardened Cor Lapis. Just as when he left you, you sat on your knees, hands neatly folded onto your lap. The only difference is now your face held permanent pain, forever carved on the Geo element that turned you to stone. The tears that once continuously poured down your cheeks crystallized, glimmering against the sunlight.

The village he left you on had immortalized you as their stone deity. All of them were familiar with your dreadful story, passed on from generation to generation. Similar to the Kabukimono, you've earned your own myth that will soon be recorded in history books. And as he solemnly ate Unagi Chazuke, a dish the village offered for him to eat for his long journey, he listened to the village elder told him the tale of a 'geo god' that hailed all the way from Liyue.

"A deity that emanated from Liyue peregrinated all the way to Inazuma, to settle with their lover. But their lover left them, and they cried day and night, imploring the stars for his return. Their tears perpetuated to flood the lands and sank into the dirt, their heart gradually turned into Cor Lapis, the element they once created with their bare hands, and slowly engulfed their entire existence due to the unfathomable grief of their loss."

And the village has kept your stone body in the middle of the village ever since you've turned stone, for you brought prosperity into their land. Cor Lapis, an element that only can be found in Liyue. Though, yours was unlike no other. It made their dirt more fertile, the quality of the crops became impeccable and they prayed to you to feed onto their greed, always asking for more and more. Rumor has it that the gemstone tears that continued to form in your eyes and fall into the ground, infusing themselves within the land were the cause.

It made him sick. You've shed never-ending tears since his abandonment. Did he hurt you that much? And now they're using your pain and suffering for their own benefit? The only reason why you stayed in the village, being taken care of and treated like a tourist attraction was because of your enamoring myth that was partly true? They didn't deserve the blessing that was rooted in your torment.

They deserved years of suffering for taking advantage of your kindness, even in your statued state.

Soon, the village that selfishly kept your body was nothing but reduced to ashes, leaving nothing but the fertile land you had blessed it. Forgotten, wiped from history. Then, the Balladeer hid you somewhere no one would find you, in the deepest depths of Chinju Forest, where you shone faintly in the forever darkness of the mysterious forest.

It was then and there that he finally lamented. Years of longing for your touch, gnashing guilt, hatred toward the gods for choosing you for the fate you don't deserve— the pain of the universe taking you so soon from him and his undeniable betrayal of you, his traitorous actions towards your endless love. It all took the form of tears as he clung to your hard body, his screams of anguish being swallowed by the trees that surrounded you.

How could he do this to you? To leave you to your own despair when you've never left him in his times of need? To let you experience pain all alone when you've always carried his burdens with him? You were nothing but sweet, the sole candle that lit his life where he had known nothing but darkness.

Scaramouche missed you, so much, and he would do anything, everything to bring you back. Even make a deal to that wretched Doctor in the Fatui. Just to hold you in his arms once more, to kiss your soft lips, and hear you call him yours once again. So he could tell you all the words he could never before, to thank you for your loyalty, to apologize for his betrayal, and tell you that he loves you with all his heart— his entire existence.

But there was nothing left of you, only the wound he had inflicted on himself and your body in a form of Cor Lapis hidden away in Chinju Forest.

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[wangxianficfinder]

In the mood for...

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1. Hi how are you?🤭 do you have fic recs that are canondiv (fix it would be better) + abo? I’d loveeeeee if xicheng is also involved (im rewatching it yes)

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2. For the next itmf request, I'm interested in fics where at least one character is understanding of (or even defends) wwx for not being ready/emotionally available for romance as quickly as others would like. (I mean... look at his life. Which spoons, exactly, was he supposed to dedicate to romance?) Basically a more sympathetic take on wwx's late blooming.

does it have to be canon timeline or is modern AU okay?

Twelve Moons and a Fortnight by stiltonbasket (M, 290k, WangXian, Humor, Slow Burn, Post-Canon Fix-It, Long-Distance Relationship, Epistolary, Love Letters, Family Feels, a-qing lives, teenage romance, Adoption, Romantic Comedy, Happy Ending, Weddings, Case Fic, Parenthood, Politics) In that story, the entire cast knows that lwj wants to marry wwx, except wwx... but waits for him to be emotionally ready and lwj to make a move before they say something.

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3. Hello (◕‿◕) October has got me in a mood for some spooky fics! I would prefer some that are more fun/lighthearted or atmospheric or unsettling/creepy than gory!

thank you and happy halloween! (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ

Grandmaster of Demonic Party Games by Trickster_Angel (M, 50k, wangxian, modern, humor, horror, paranormal)

lovely thorns and singing crows by isabilightwood (E, 37k WangXian, Modern AU, Addams Family Vibes, meet cute at a funeral, Madam Lán Lives, Light Horror, Curses, Possession, Fluff and Humor, Developing Relationship, Found Family, Weirdo4weirdo wangxian, Eventual Smut, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs) Addams family spooky/wholesome vibes!

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4. ITMF canon divergence/ canon compliant/ canon era: wangxian wedding fic like twelve moons and a fortnight Verse. Preferably long fics. I mean the wedding should be there, but it can be / cannot be the main focus of the fic. I don't mind either way.

With Absolute Splendor by Lise (T, 43k, wangxian, JC & WWX, JC & LWJ, JC & JL, Post-Canon, POV JC,JC is Bad at Feelings, JC & WWX Reconciliation, Weddings, Wedding Planning, Some politics, Complicated Relationships, Brothers, let's do some HEALING and RELATIONSHIP BUILDING, jc and lwj still don't like each other very much, Angst with a Happy Ending, some people? plan weddings?? to cope???, Podfic Available)

A Matter of Time series by mrcformoso (E, 70 k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, POV LWJ, POV JC, Dark LWJ, Manipulation, Grooming, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Consensual Underage Sex, Except problematic please read warning in first chapter, Blood and Violence, Insane LWJ, Manic LWJ, Conditioning, WWX is a Lán, Minor Character Death, Confused JC, Golden Core Reveal, Good Friend NHS, WWX Isn’t Adopted by the Jiāngs, Abusive Jiāng Family, Jiāng Family Bashing, Jiāng Family Critical, POV NHS, Dark NHS, Anal Sex, Marathon Sex, Dual Cultivation, Qīnghéng-jūn Lives, LWJ Has a Big Dick, WWX Self-Lubricates, Plot Twists, Porn With Plot, Scheming NHS, Manipulative NHS, BAMF LWJ, BAMF WWX) Read tags and warnings, but big on world building and feat wangxian wedding

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5. Hello, I love this community and the work the mods do for it! For the next In The Mood For, could I get recs for Wangxian with Sugar Daddy LWJ? Doesn't have to be explicit or a formal sugaring arrangement, just the vibes is also good. @aralintheobsessive

All Old Things are New Again by The Feels Whale (miscellea) (M, 51k, WangXian, XuanLi, ChengQing, Reincarnation, Modern AU, canon still happened, extreme post canon, Sugar Daddy, Kink Negotiation, gentle dom!LWJ, canonical levels of consent play, Modern Cultivators)

Baby, You Ain't Seen Nothing Yet by TriviasFolly (E, 79k, wangxian, graphic depictions of violence, rape/non-con, modern, ABO, mafia au, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Omega LSZ, Crime, Clans, Sects are Clans, Feral WWX, Feral Omegas, once again making WWX a feral murdering machine, Nurse WWX, Dark LWJ, Dark WWX, Possessive Behavior, Possessive LWJ, WWX plays with his fem side, feminine WWX, wwx's cannon desire to be a sugar baby/trophy wife, Breeding Kink, Mpreg, wwx tries to use lwj but catches feels, and lwj knew what he was doing all along, wwx posing as mxy, wwx 'secret' identity, meandering self indulgent plot, WWX and LWJ have dating histories)

A Sure Thing by vesna (mrsronweasley) (E, 95k, WangXian, Modern AU, Sugar Daddy, Sex Work, Light Dom/sub, Aftercare, Semi-Public Sex, Exhibitionism, Bondage, use of sex toys, boundary setting, Relationship Negotiation, many baths, Barebacking) A Sure Thing by vesna is one of my absolute faves

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6. Hello Mods! I just watched a beautifully heartbreaking animatic and now I really just have to ask if you know any fics where WWX specifically is the one to hide little A-yuan away before the siege?

thank you in advance! hope you have a lovely day!

Misunderstood by Silver_Flame_2724 (M, 250k, WIP, WangXian, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Heavy Angst, Suicidal Thoughts, Canon-Typical Violence, Self-Worth Issues)

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7. Hello amazing people! For the next itmf, could you please recommend some extremely kind, soft, sweet or comfort fics? It may be a tooth-rotting sweet love story or a nice and funny one with junior adventures. Preferably something with Wei Wuxian as one of the central characters!

I am interested to see what people usually read when they get sad or depressed or, for example, disturbed by some sad/dead-dovy story and read something extremely comforting which helps to raise the mood and concentrate on positive and happy thoughts. Something that would return you from the pit of distress into fluffy and sweet cloud, if the story makes you hide in your pillow from love, humour and cuteness, it's definitely one. Thank you so much 💜 @shellennium

❤️ The One-Body Problem by metisket (T, 29k, LJY & WWX, LJY & LSZ, wangxian, possession, cohabitation, Mojo’s bookmark)

can you feel it by lanzhancore (E, 5k, wangxian, modern, Awkward Sexual Situations, Established Relationship, Hospitals, Slice of Life, Fluff and Humor, Idiot Lovers, LWJ pets WWX a lot, Crack Treated Seriously)

should i fly to los angeles (find my asshole brother) 🔒 by belovedmuerto (T, 7k, WangXian, Modern AU, JC POV, Reunion fic of sorts, Southern California, Relationship Reveal, Established Relationship, Toddler A-Yuan)

i know who i want to take me home by ScarlettStorm (E, 16k, wangxian, modern, bartender WWX, drunk LWJ, caretaking, meet-cute, fluff, comedy, smut, minor angst, major shenanigans)

Blooming Days by Atsushiis (G, 7k, wangxian, Modern, College/University au, Meet-Cute, First Dates, First Kiss, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, LWJ Has Feelings, Let LWJ talk about his feelings agenda, Romance, Falling In Love, Wangxian are softer than a baby bunny, gratuitous handholding, Give LWJ hugs agenda, LWJ Protection Squad, Spanish Translation Available)

a baby rabbit is called a kitten and other fun facts by aurora_chiroptera (G, 11k, wangxian, LSZ & WWX, modern, kid fic, youtube/social media au, Mutual Pining, NHS uses they/them pronouns, JZX is a trans lesbian and uses she/her pronouns, Child LSZ, Long-Distance Relationship, Fluff, and bunnies, Soft wangxian, Good Parent WWX, Single Parent WWX, this also in part became a psa about rabbit care? who knew, Getting to Know Each Other, Getting Together, Nonbinary NHS, LWJ Has Friends, set in the US)

The tea to my heart by blackmorphos (T, 83k, wangxian, modern, Fluff, Developing Relationship, LWJ makes a friend, A-Yuan gets a much bigger part than planned, A-Yuan is very cute, WWX is cute too, angst but it in the past, a drunk scene, Lots of Tea, some steam buns, Falling In Love)

The Art of Communication by mrcformoso (G, 4k, WangXian, Modern AU, College/University, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Meet-Cute, Engineering Student WWX, Music Student LWJ, Swimmer WWX, Martial Artist LWJ, POV Outsider, POV WWX, POV LWJ, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Communication Issues, But Wanxian Makes it Work, LWJ has limited words, WWX has too many words, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Love Languages, Requited Love) for tooth rotting fluff

Just Ask Me To Stay by mrcformoso (M, 20k, WangXian, Modern AU, Former JZ/WWX, Minor NieLan, Minor XuanLi, No Powers, Dancer WWX, Musician LWJ, Roommates, Best Friends, Friends to Lovers, Break Up, Post-Break Up, Recovery, WWX Has Self-Esteem Issues, Fluff, Light Angst, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Oral Sex, Domestic Fluff, LWJ Has a Big Dick, WWX Has a Breeding Kink, Size Queen WWX, Belly Bulge, Porn With Plot, WWX Has Friends, LWJ Has Friends, Hurt/Comfort, A lot of comfort, Romantic Comedy, Cuter story than the summary makes it out to be, Feel-good) for comfort comfort comfort

Three changes. by orange_crushed (M, 18k, wangxian, fluff, hijinks & shenanigans, cloud recesses shenanigans, no war au, everyone lives au, romantic comedy, fade to black, friends to lovers, falling in love, harm to animals, non-graphic violence, sparring, developing friendships, hurt/comfort, first time)

Worship you till morning comes by feyburner (E, 6k, WangXian, Modern AU, Meet-Cute, First Dates, First Time, Fluff, Kissing, Hand Jobs, Falling In Love) when you want it just to all go well for wx for once

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8. Helo!!! I'm in the mood for a fic (preferably not modern AU, just canon setting) where Wwx is either a brother figure or a father figure to Mxy. I just wanna see Mxy being taken care of by Wwx.

no one ever said the single-plank bridge had to be walked alone by rosemu (T, 174k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, Yílíng Wèi Sect au, Fix-It, Not Everyone Dies au, LWJ Stays at the Burial Mounds, Fluff, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Found Family, Slow Burn, LWJ and WWX get to be Dads together, the healing power of homoerotic flute/guqin duets, Happy Ending) WWX recruits MXY as a disciple after JGY kicks him out of the Jin sect

The storm comes and goes (and I keep walking) by Naamah_Beherit (M, 41k, LSZ & WWX, MXY & WWX, LSZ & MXY, WWX & WN, WWX & OCs, Canon Divergence, Found Family, Blood and Injury, Reunions, POV Multiple, Canonical Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Identity Reveal, POV Outsider, No Romance, Mojo's post here)

i’ll take a secondhand monster by Stratisphyre (T, 24k, MXY & WWX, MXY & JGY, LWJ & LSZ & MXY, wangxian, Canon Divergence, Child Abuse, Bullying, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Kid fic, Minor canonical character death, Injured WWX, Earn Your Happy Ending)

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9. Hi! For the next ITMF, could you recommend me

A) a failed ambush at qionqi path. Like WWX didn't come to the celebration/WWX and JZX alive

B) a succesful one. Like WWX dies/WWX, JZN, JZX dies (all of them dies)

Thank you!!! @idontknowwhattowriteforusername

All these are a mix of A & B, in the sense that the ambush fails (WWX & JZX live), but WWX is assumed dead at first & the cultivation world reacts as if he is. So a little of both depending on how you look at it.

in this place where we don’t have a prayer by Cerusee, Mikkeneko (T, 42k, WangXian)

when you’re doing all the leaving (then it’s never your love lost) by tardigradeschool (T, 26k, WangXian, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Sharing a Bed, Sharing Clothes, Fix-It, the inherent eroticism of under robes, Golden Core Transfer)

The Fire Lapping Up the Creek by notevenyou (E, 66k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Injury, Injury Recovery, Blood, Respiratory Illness, Major Illness, Fever, Grief/Mourning, Burial Mounds, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Hunger and food scarcity, Surgery, Fix-It of Sorts)

9A)

Home and the Heartland by Witch_Nova221 (T, 210k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, Burial Mounds, LWJ Stays at the Burial Mounds, Slow Romance, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Fix-It, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Self-Discovery, Golden Core Reveal, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon Divergence, the burial mounds aren’t always a happy place, but wangxian do their best) Has LWJ finding out about the ambush in advance & intervening

9B)

ius in bello by Lise (T, 2k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Tearjerker, Sad Ending, Heavy Angst, Grief/Mourning, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Not A Fix-It, POV JC, [Podfic] ius in bello by flamingwell)

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10. Hi! Thank you for running this blog, I’ve found so many good fics from here.

I want to ask, for ITMF, do you have any fics where there’s a lot of world building, especially with cultivation (demonic or otherwise). An example I could think of is ‘Talking is Better than Silence’ by KuroiWrites, and ‘Flute in Wartime’ series.

If that’s too restrictive, could I ask for general world building ones. Long fics preferred.

Thank you very much!!

Hear a song this deeply by so_shhy (T, 87k, wangxian, modern cultivation, music, kid fic, action/adventure, canon typical JGY behavior, slow burn, fluff & angst, happy ending)

🧡 Stunted, Starving Juvenility by TomatenMark (E, 712k, WangXian, WIP, Fix-it of sorts, Talisman master WWX, Not JFM Friendly, Study Arc, Getting together, Fluff and Angst, Engagement) Goes into lots of detail about how talismans work & how scholars go about presenting & selling their work

A Matter of Time series by mrcformoso (E, 70 k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, POV LWJ, POV JC, Dark LWJ, Manipulation, Grooming, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Consensual Underage Sex, Except problematic please read warning in first chapter, Blood and Violence, Insane LWJ, Manic LWJ, Conditioning, WWX is a Lán, Minor Character Death, Confused JC, Golden Core Reveal, Good Friend NHS, WWX Isn’t Adopted by the Jiāngs, Abusive Jiāng Family, Jiāng Family Bashing, Jiāng Family Critical, POV NHS, Dark NHS, Anal Sex, Marathon Sex, Dual Cultivation, Qīnghéng-jūn Lives, LWJ Has a Big Dick, WWX Self-Lubricates, Plot Twists, Porn With Plot, Scheming NHS, Manipulative NHS, BAMF LWJ, BAMF WWX) (link in #4) Read tags and warnings, but big on world building and feat wangxian wedding

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11. currently reading cherry cultivation by bengsi, and now i'm in the mood for fics with characters who can read minds :D

Losing My Mind by pupeez4eva (T, 6k, wangxian, JC & WWX, Humor, Protective JC, JC drinks a potion that lets him hear people’s lustful thoughts, Teenage LWJ has a lot of feelings, Canon Divergence, Cloud Recesses study arc) JC drinks a potion that allows him to hear lustful thoughts during CRSA & it goes exactly how you'd expect

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12. Noncon tw

Fic where autistic lan wangji or autistic lan xichen gets gangraped and has a meltdown during the rape?

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13. Hii! For the next itmf, do you have any fics where lwj and/or wwx get hit on or flirted with by other people and what their reaction is, while they are both (lwj and wwx) in a relationship with each other. Thank you💕

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14. ITMF fics where A) there's scene like or feels like - someone hit/tortured/injured/or something bad to wwx and wwx is like ' oh no you're so dead. My brother is going to kill you. He's going to fkin tear you apart '

Or B) something with protective strong bro jc.

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15. Hi! Me again, hahaha. This is for ITMF. ☺️

Looking for the fic about the LWJ curse, it's made me want to read more fanfics where LWJ gets cursed and WWX helps him. If it's the Lan sect or the Cultivation world that is cursed also interests me. The thing is WWX helping people and happy endings please. 🙏

My favorites are the ones that take place before WWX dies, but the fics post-Canon are welcome too. Thank you! 🥰💜 @wangxiansgirl

green sleeves growing cold by mistergoblin (G, 17k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, Fairy Tale Elements, Mild Angst, Fluff, jealousy & misunderstandings, curses as an excuse for more Yearning, LWJ POV, LWJ centric, Repression, No War AU, Touch-Starved, Everyone lives, Happy Ending)

moonlight caught in mutton fat by Raitelzen (T, 45k, WangXian, Case Fic, Curses, Curse Breaking, Transformation, mild body horror, Hurt LWJ, Ghosts)

Unavoidable by diamondbruise (T, 18k, wangxian, Post-Canon, Amnesia, Jealousy, LWJ just is like that idk what to tell you, Misunderstandings, Falling In Love, Again, Happy Ending, it's that thing where they're married but lwj can't remember wwx and they meet again)

A Curse of a Different Color by nickel710 (G, 35k, WangXian, XiChengQing, Modern with Magic, Modern Cultivation, Curses, Curse Breaking, Asexual polyamory, Repressed LWJ, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Drunk LWJ, Falling In Love, WWX Being an Idiot, Non-explicit vomit, just a tiny reference to it, Anxiety)

💖 I would wait for a thousand years by bleuett (T, 10k, wangxian, Post-Canon, Canon Divergence, Memory Loss, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Reunions, Curses, Intimacy, Yearning, Happy Ending, Chinese Mythology & Folklore, Immortality, Fluff, Angst)

beneath six layers of silk by darkredloveknot (enheduane) (E, 12k, wangxian, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, Getting Together, Confessions, Curses, Embarrassment, Vulnerability, LWJ is hopelessly in love, Swearing, Dirty Talk, Hand Jobs, Angst and Fluff and Smut, all the good stuff basically, Honesty, Communication, Podfic Available, Portuguese translation, french translation, Spanish Translation, Перевод на русский | Translation in Russian)

Blue water by huxiyi (E, 25k, wangxian, Post-Canon, Temporary Amnesia, Case Fic, Curses, Cultivation Sect Politics, Established Relationship, Angst with a Happy Ending, References to Depression, Discussion of Grief, Discussion of bodies, Explicit Sexual Content, Dom/sub Undertones, Under-negotiated Kink, Additional Warnings In Author's Note)

shadows in the sun rise by Yuu_chi (E, 21k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Night hunts, Curses, Intimacy, Light Angst with a Happy Ending, They're married and they're in love) my all time fave cursed!lwj fic

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16. Hello! This is for a future ITMF ask! Are there any fics where WangXian (or just one of them, preferably Wei Wuxian!) met Word of Honor's Wen Kexing and Zhou Zishu? Thanks in advance!

The Young Masters of Four Seasons Manor by gaotamao (G, 91k, WangXian, WenZhou, YeRong, Time Regression fix-it, WKX raises monstrous sons, Not Jiang Sect Friendly, No Golden Core Transfer)

Consort Lan by UmiAzuma (M, 19k, wangxian, wenzhou, LWJ & ZZS, WWX & WKX, ZCL & LSZ, JC/LXC, hualian, bingqiu, WWX is a Menace, WWX is the second madam lan, WKX and ZZS are Parents of ZCL, WWX and WKX are besties, everyone is baffled at how pretty WWX is, Crack, WIP)

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17. First, thank you to the mods & thank you in advance to everyone for the recs! &lt;3 For the next ITMF: I have two requests! A) Any fic that involves babytrapping in any capacity; and B) fic with onesided-cheng/xian (jc has feelings for wwx, wwx doesn't reciprocate) and endgame wang/xian <3

17A)

truly a love story for the ages by sweetlolixo (E, 4k, WangXian, Modern AU, Omegaverse, Dark LWJ, Dark WWX, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Dark!Wangxian, Power Couple, slight daddy kink, Crack, Pregnant WWX) my very favorite UNINTENTIONAL mutual baby trapping fic 💕

17B)

Bitter Endings; New Beginnings by miixz (T, 7k, wangxian, WN & WWX, major character death, ABO, Arranged Marriage, Unrequited Love, Stalking, Not JC Friendly, Unrequited JC/WWX, Alpha JC, Omega WWX, Alpha LWJ, No War au, Wēn Remnants Live, Brothers WWX & WN, Light Angst, Fluff, Falling In Love, endgame wangxian)

Meant to be (but not the way I wanted) by sekhmetpaws (E, 49k, wangxian, one-sided JC/WWX, JL/LSZ, modern, ABO, One-Sided Relationship, Abusive Relationships, feelings feelings feelings, Most of them are, Angst, Not between wangxian, Teen Pregnancy, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, kicked out, Discussion of Abortion, Alpha JC, Omega WWX, Mpreg, not Jiang friendly, Alpha LWJ, Not JC Friendly, Wangxian are very happy here)

you can have my absence of faith by Anonymous (M, 3k, wangxian, one-sided JC/WWX, rape/non-con, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Accidental Voyeurism, JC is entitled, possessive JC, Dark JC, LWJ reflects on his parents, Pining, Hurt/Comfort, Sunshot Campaign, Internalized Homophobia, Coming Out, LWJ POV, Not JC Friendly)

his right hand man 🔒 by Anonymous (E, 3k, wangxian, one-sided JC/WWX, rape/non-con, not JC friendly, Dark JC, One-Sided Attraction, Past Rape/Non-con, Wangxian's canon kinks, Consensual Non-Con, Rape Roleplay, Don't Try This At Home, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Jealousy, Homophobia, Pseudo-Incest, Canon Typical Classism, Heavy Angst, Dysfunctional Family, specter of dark LWJ if vengence counts as dark, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Vent!fic, Unreliable Narrator, let WWX be angry, Past Child Abuse, Anger)

~*~

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