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quick alan doods to celebrate finally having a computer charger after like 2 weeks!!
he/him
#featuring DnD alan apparently?? idk but he looks cute as a tiefling imo#i should draw this but for real#and also everyone else as dnd characters#alan#tmpreg#mpreg#belly kink#mart#wait he should have his halo in the jacket one#thats for sure his full term twin bod#oops
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halloweekend is starting early here and i’m dressed as a slutty nun, has me thinking what would hotch think seeing you in a sexy (perhaps taboo) halloween costume?? maybe he had to work late so he came to the halloween party straight from the office so you met there, and he’s holding himself back bc you look sooooo good….
cw suggestive mdni
Hotch grew up in a time full to bursting with slut-shaming and self-expression alike. Women wore tiny dresses as they wear now, and he never thought himself a sexist —he never had a problem with a slip of skin.
But this is… Well, he's ashamed of himself for wanting to wrap you up in his suit jacket and ferry you home.
"Handsome!" you yell, jumping off of the garden seat you'd been sitting in with a drink slipping down your fingers. "You actually came! You're here!"
He's thinking and thank God I did, because he trusts you, and he doesn't think for a second you'd entertain other people, but he can't imagine missing out on this. This is a lot.
"You're drinking?" he asks, not scornful, just surprised.
"I didn't know you were coming and I'm bored out of my mind! But this is my first, sweetheart." You offer it to him. "So no, I wouldn't say I'm drinking."
He takes your drink, his head racing with thoughts of your naked arms and legs, your sheer white babydoll dress. "Is this lingerie?"
"It's my costume," you whine gently. "Why do people keep asking me that?"
Hotch slides his empty hand down the length of your side, the tulle of your baby doll soft as down on his palm. "And you're a… angel?"
"Duh. You can't see my halo, but it's there."
Your waist in his hand, the warmth of your skin seeping slow in his, Hotch can almost ignore the surrounding party goers and all their noise, until a friend comes forward demanding an introduction, and another. We've been waiting to meet her oh-so-intimidating beau. Hotch suffers it with his hand behind your shoulders, but eventually it's too much, his hand is sliding under your babydoll's fabric to grab at the small of your back indulgently. His pinky finger flirts with the band of your 'shorts'.
"What are you doing?" you whisper through a laugh.
"I'm embarrassed. I'm not even in costume."
"Yeah?"
"Maybe we should just go home."
Your laughter is a shriek as he pulls you into his side. He's kidding, he'll stay at your party tonight for as long as you want to stay like a fish out of water, but he can't be expected to not flirt with you.
"You're getting antsy, Hotchner," you say, like it's the best thing a man can be.
"This is ridiculous."
"I picked it out with you in mind." You lift your chin, words spoken warmly into the shell of his ear. "It might look like underwear to you, but there's something underneath it that says otherwise. So play nice and I'll give you a behind the scenes of how I chose my costume."
"I'm always nice," he says.
"No," you say, your smile mock-demure, your hand on his abdomen, just a little too low, "you're not. That's why…" You turn on the spot to your bag resting on the table and pull out a pair of red-horns on a headband. "I got you these. But once you put them on you have to keep them on."
"Is that the rule for this?" he asks, tugging on your babydoll.
You only hum. Hotch loses his mind one song at a time until you let him take you home, devil horns intact.
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x y/n#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner blurb#aaron hotchner drabble#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner fanfic#aaron hotchner fanfiction#hotch x reader#hotch#hotch x you#hotch blurb#hotch drabble
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The Saltiness of Flesh
Another Elvis one for you all. I recently went on vacation and this came to me after walking on the beach. Also, Over-ripe will be updated, I just needed to get this out of my mind.
Pairing: 1968!Elvis Presley x fem!reader
Summary: After Elvis' divorce fell through and the constant non-stop touring, he finally gets a moment alone on the beach. He finds a doll, shy and almost stand-offish and things suddenly bloom between them.
Warnings: Absolutely no hate to Priscilla, I love her so much, she is mother <3 In this story, they got engaged but broke up before they got married. Barely legal reader, flirting, but not much else.
Word count: 2,2k+ unedited
Dividers by: @firefly-graphics and @luvcsbn
Elvis can’t remember the last time he woke up this early. Salt lingers on everything when your hotel is next to the coast. And it’s so early that there aren’t any cars on the road yet, so it’s just the sound of the beach waves crashing that fills his ears. He groans as he sits upright, his feet hitting the fluffy carpet. He looks out, the waves match the fluff of the carpet.
It looks so inviting, when was the last time he went to the beach? When was the last time he was alone like this? There’s always someone watching him, talking to him, waiting for him. But his rehearsal isn’t until 11:00, there’s nothing for him to do now... A smile, not big just barely, overcomes him.
The wind blows and there is almost nobody on the beach today. It’s cold and he wraps his leather jacket closer around his body. His feet drag through the sand and dirties his fancy shoes. His hair is now tussled and he’s slightly regretting ever leaving his perfectly airconditioned hotel room.
He sighs, his eyes going between the horizon just over the sea and the footprints in the sand. Step, step, step, and then the waves wash it away. He rolls his neck, and lifts his arms up as he stretches, maybe this isn’t so bad? The fresh air is a nice difference from the constant cigarette smoke from the other men.
His mind feels...clear. Clear and he can finally think straight after weeks of non-stop traveling and preforming. He rubs his neck and then shoves his hands back into his jacket pockets. His feet dragging across the sand, following the footsteps that have yet to be washes away.
The man sighs, if the media saw him now like this, they’d rip him apart. His engagement fell through, after one huge fight. Word and actions that he hadn’t wished he said and hadn’t done. Now, he’s all alone, walking along the beach on a windy-icy day in California. Thinking about where exactly did he go wrong?
Was it his choice? He should’ve known in the beginning when she talked about working that she would never be completely his. She would never be as devoted as he wanted her to be. He should have known that she likely just wanted the fame and the money until it all became too much for her. Then she left, right before the start of comeback.
The wind picks up again, throwing his hair to the side and he clenches his eyes shut so that the sand doesn’t scratch at his eyes. He continues trudging forward, stumbling as the sand fights for him to take another step.
A voice causes him to snap his eyes open. “You should watch where you’re goin’ mister.” The first thing he sees are her dirty bleached jean dungarees. The way her shoulders sag while her hands are in her pockets. Her feet are covered in sand halfway up her calf. Hair, lightened by long hours in the sun, is wild in the wind.
She’s standing next to a fishing pole that’s been planted into the sand, along with an old rusted pickup truck that’s strapped with other fishing poles. With an upturned button nose and these plump pick lips, she’s small, but not physically, more small in her presence. Like she doesn’t quite really want to be seen.
The sun is just barely over the mountains, shining right on her sun-coloured hair and makes it look like a holy halo is just hovering on top of her head. Her head tilts up, looking up at him. Elvis gets that thump-thump feeling in his chest all over again. The beginning of falling and tumbling and needing to know more of this little thing.
Her toes dig into the sand, making a small hole, uncomfortable. He hasn’t said anything and is just sort of looking at her with this smile that makes her feel warm like the sun. “I-I’m sorry, little lady, it’s quite windy isn’t it? Struggling to see.” He chuckles, all his charm suddenly gone and he feels like an awkward teenage boy talking to a pretty girl.
Goosebumps are evident on her skin and she shivers when the wind blows. Her arms are bare and her dungarees short, not exactly shielding her from the harsh winds. She doesn’t say anything, just looks him up and down again, then nods. “What you fishin’ for?”
She raises and drops her shoulders, “Just about anythin’ that’ll bite.” She mumbles, her nose scrunching as the sun begins reflecting on the water. A faint smile ghosts over his lips, she’s so pretty and the sun only seems to highlight it more. “Mind if I keep yah company?” He asks, needing to stay with her longer.
Again, she shrugs, “I ain’t supposed to talk to strangers.” Small, again so small, not wanting to say no, not willing to say yes, too uncertain to make a choice. “Well, uh, I’m Elvis.” He expects her to have at least some recognition behind her eyes, but nothing. She mirrors his words with her own name.
“See? Now we know each other. Now we ain’t strangers.” He speaks, giving his kindest smile. He can see she’s still wary of him, biting down on the inside of her cheek, nodding slowly. “Rare to see a pretty girl like you fishin’. Especially all alone.” Her lips part, pink and plump and suddenly her cheeks become the same colour.
Her head turns, looking over at the rusty pickup truck. “I’m visitin’ my grandpa for the summer. He’s-�� she turns back to face him, “-he’s gone to the little boy’s room. He’ll be back.” Elvis has to fight off a grin, knowing that she’s likely saying this as some sort of warning, as if he’d try something.
Elvis nods his head, “Well, he’s lucky to have such a sweet little granddaughter visitin’ him.” He watches intently as her top teeth capture her lip, trying to fight a smile. Her cheeks stay this pink colour, either from blushing or the harsh wind. Again she just nods, unsure how to reply to that really. Small.
“You catch anything yet?” He asks, his eyes falling to the empty bucket next to truck. This does seem to spark something in her. A huff, her heel kicking the sand, making it spat until it reaches the waves. “I’m actually not too good at fishin’...” she raises her head to look up at the top of the fishing pole.
He can tell she’s trying to gauge if she has a catch by the way the pole bends. But it doesn’t, it stays pin straight. “My grandpa is tryin’ to teach me but...” she then looks back down at him. “...it ain’t workin’.” She huffs again, keeping her hands in her dungaree pockets. He can’t help but let out a hearty chuckle at her huffing and distaste for not getting this right.
“Don’t laugh at me.” She snaps, her brows plucking together in a frustrated look. “I’m sorry, little one, yah just too cute.” Again, she doesn’t say anything, her eyes scrunching as she glares at him. As if willing him to unsay what he just said. Clearly not liking this idea of being cute.
“Maybe the fishes are just shy today. They don’t know what to think of a beauty such as yourself.” He watches as she scoffs are rolls her eyes. “I don’t think the fish can see above the water.” She doesn’t get it. Doesn’t see the smooth words that he lures her with. “It’s true, really. That’s why pretty girls don’t fish. The fish are too shy.”
He has a charismatic smirk, enjoying how she just looks past him. “Oh please.” She scoffs, rolling her eyes and then looking out at the beach. “It’s true, you’re unique.” This seems to make her even more upset. “Unique is just another way o’ sayin’ ugly.” She crosses her arms, protecting herself from his gaze.
Elvis lets out a hearty laugh. “Is that so?” She nods, refusing to even looking at him. “My mama always says I’m unique when the pretty girls at school bully me. ‘You’re unique and they just don’t like that.’” Elvis just skips over the part where she talks about school, not really caring how old she is, they’re just friends.
“You ain’t ugly in the slightest. You’re just as pretty as a flower in the bloom.” He can see the pain in her eyes when she says that. He knows well just how ruthless pretty girls can be. Just how deep their cruel words can cut and just how long the pain lingers.
Her mouth opens to speak again, but her eyes fall to the sand when an old man suddenly appears. Presumably her grandpa. Elvis gives his classic grin and holds out his hand. “Mornin’ sir. Nice day for some fishin’, ain’t it?” The old man’s brows furrow and he raises his cap, to get a better look at him.
The recognition is quick to come, he shakes his hand. “Why, aren’t you that Elvis Presley fellow?” He’s used to being recognised, but from a man this age, it catches him a little of guard. “The one and only. You’ve got a good set o’ eyes, sir.” The old man nods his head, walking over to his truck to fix up another fishing pole.
There is a moment of awkward silence between the three of them. The girl’s head snaps around to him, her brows plucked together and her head tilted to the side. “You someone famous?” Her expression makes him chuckle, he shrugs his shoulders. “Somethin’ like that.” She hums and purses her lips.
“Well, uh, I’m sorry I didn’t recognise yah, Mister Presley. I ain’t from ‘round here.” She stutters, suddenly feeling shy all over again. “That’s alright, youngin, where yah from then?” She licks her lips, dry from all the wind. “A little farm in a little town in Utah.” He furrows his brows, “I have performed in Utah before.”
She purses her lips and shrugs. “Ma and Pa don’ like me goin’ out too much.” She shivers again, “It wasn’ this damn cold when I packed.” Again he chuckles slightly, “It gets windy on the coast.” Elvis begins to make quick work of the jacket he’s wearing. His long arm hold it out for her to take. Her eyes go wide and she shakes her head.
“Here, Darlin’. Take my jacket and you won’t be shiverin’ no more.” Again she shakes her head. Holding out her arms to keep it away. “Oh no, sir, I couldn’t possibly.” Now he’s the one who shakes his head, placing the jacket in her arms. “Don’t be ridiculous, youngin. You’re shaking like a leaf in autumn. An’ you don’t wanna get sick durin’ yah vacation.”
Reluctantly, she takes the jacket, having mauled it over for a few seconds. Her fingers glance over the embroidery of the letters “TCB”. She spells the letters out loud. “What’s that mean?” Her eyes look so curious when she looks up at him. “Means, ‘taking care of business’. Kinda the slogan of my life.” A slight smile plays on her lips, her thumb slides over his name on the bottom.
She carefully shrugs it over her shoulders. It does look plenty big on her. He feels almost ready to eat her up, scoop her into his arms and never ever let her go. He curses himself for feeling so suddenly so...attached. Watching her every move, wanting her far closer than the few steps between them.
Her eyes almost form this...sparkle in them. Big and beautiful and- “Lord save me...” his thoughts escape his mouth. Her little teeth come out and bite down on her lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a full smile. “What?” A slight chuckle comes out along with her word. “I could eat you for breakfast, little girl.”
Usually, for compliments, she’d have a snarky remark ready. But his words take her so out of her little world. The way his eyes match what he’s saying makes it even more... She knows for a fact she’ll be replaying that moment over and over in her mind. If anyone ever says that no one wants her, she’ll retell this word for word.
And suddenly she can just scarcely taste the saltiness of the flesh of his fingertips. Thumb tracing the trip of her lip. Faintly she feigns uncaring. But truly her heart is thump-thumping. Pinching and plucking at her pretty soul. “Let me see you again?” Grasping at air, grasping at words and coming up with but a nod.
Pulled from his all keeping attention, unable to swim for else the water fills her lungs from those blue, blue eyes. It does not compare to the ocean they are forever now bonded by. Chain me, keep me, make me, let me be what you want from me. Words that do not fall from her lips, but instead only: “Grandpa’s house is on 13 Church street.”
And a smirk and a grin and a nod and a goodbye. All so fast, all so quick, gone from his grip. And she licks, licks, at her lips, wanting to feel the burn of the salt on the tip of her brimming, beaming, bubbling body again.
I'm gonna do a part 2 for sure. Please do tell me if you want to be added to that tag list <3
Part 2
#elvis#elvis presley#elvis the pelvis#elvis the king#70s elvis#big daddy elvis#BDE#elvis x reader#elvis x y/n#elvis x you#elvis presely smut#elvis presley x reader#elvis presley x you#elvis presley x y/n#60s elvis
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Fem!Reader fluff, mention of love making, allusion to sex
Part 1 | Part 2
It's a sunday morning. The sun shines through the kitchen window and reaches your profile, seeming like a halo around your head. Your eyebrows are furrowed and your eyes focused on the task at hand. You flip the pancake and feel a pair of big burly arms wrap around your torso from behind, "Good morning, lovie!" he breathes into your ear, his gruff morning voice sending shivers through your body. "Good morning, Si!" you mutter as you turn around to place a kiss on his lips. "You look beautiful today... as you do everyday... you're always beautiful, dove!" he rambles as he peppers kisses on every part of your pretty face, making you giggle. "Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes. I made coffee too." "Perfect! Thank you, love." he says as he takes a seat at the table. You place his plate of pancakes with chocolate syrup and a cup of coffee in front of him. He nods gratefully as you seat down. You talk about some new events happening at work and he listens, occasionally asking questions or making sarcastic comments about your annoying coworkers. He stares at you in awe, wondering how he got so lucky. You both spend the rest of the day in each other's arms. He makes love to you, softly cooing praises into your ear as he brings you to a state of pure euphoria. You lazily plump down on the couch watching trash tv and making fun of the awful people on the shows, laughing your asses off. You stare at him in awe, wondering how you got so lucky. He snaps his fingers in front of your face, shaking you out of your trance. "Hey, what is it?" he asks, "You've been acting weird lately!" "What? Nothing, just thinking about... stuff." you ramble nervously. "Is there something wrong?" he questions worriedly. "No! It's just about work. I'm sorry I've been acting weird. You don't have to worry about it." you respond. Thank god he doesn't pry any further and only adds "I'm here if you need me. With anything. And I mean anything. If someone is bothering you-" "No, Si! No one is bothering me. I don't need you to murder anyone either. Just stressing about work. Too much pressure." you lie terribly and he looks at you through narrowed eyes but lets it slide. As night falls, you're curled up in bed together as you both have your books in hands and read peacefully in a comfortable silence. But your focus is on something else. Should you pop the question right now? Do it casually and get it over with. No, he deserves a proper proposal. You finally decide on the latter. "Hey!" his voice rattles you out of your thoughts. "What?" you ask, looking up at him. He's starting to get suspicious. You have to do it sooner than planned. You can’t take it any longer. "I asked if you wanted to sleep." he replies, "I'm starting to get worried, love. Just tell me that you're ok." You cup his cheeks in your hands and whisper "I'm ok, Si. No need to worry." and kiss him as you straddle his lap. You both end up panting heavily and giggling, bodies tangled together by midnight.
It's a saturday night. The moonlight shines through the branches of cherry blossoms and reaches you, standing amidst the trees in the garden, making a dreamy scene. You fidget with the zipper of your jacket and fumble with your fingers nervously as you wait for him. He finally arrives, in a suit, looking handsome as ever. "Hi, lovie." he greets you, kissing your lips lovingly. "Hey, Si." you respond, taking in his beautiful features alight by the moon. You take his hand in yours and guide him to the table. You both take your seats beside each other and start chatting about everything and nothing, unable to take your eyes and hands off each other, as the waiter places your orders in front of you. After dinner, you go silent, grab your purse in your shaky hands and pull out the small black box. His eyes widen and his mouth hangs open as you lock eyes with him. "Simon Riley,... you met me at my worst" you chuckle nervously, "and pulled me out of the dark abyss I was in. You brighten my skies every day and make me laugh with your awful dad jokes" you remark, making him laugh as tears start to well up in both your and his eyes, "Do you want to be a dad? You've already got the jokes down... ok, that's a discussion for another time." You both chuckle again, "Fuck! I'm really terrible at this. I didn't prepare a speech and decided to wing it. I'm so sorry." he nuzzles your cheek, wiping away your tears as he pulls you in for a kiss, reassuring you that it's ok. "I'm forever grateful for everything you've done for me. I love you. Everything about you. Everything that you are. Your light and your darkness. You're the love of my life and I want to spend the rest of my life with you." you continue, "Simon Riley, will you marry me?" you finally ask as you open the box and hold it in front of him. You're both sobbing at this point. "Yes!" he gets the word out and pushes his lips onto yours, kissing you passionately, both your feelings for each other poured into the kiss. You take his hand in yours and put the ring on his finger. "I'm all yours, love." he murmurs against your lips, "And I'm all yours, Si."
comments/reblogs are greatly appreciated ♥
#simon riley#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon ghost riley x you#cod x reader#ghost x reader#cod fanfic#ghost cod#cod ghost#ghost call of duty#call of duty#cod mw2#cod#mw2#cod modern warfare#call of duty modern warfare#call of duty x reader
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Non- Mission Essential (John Price x Reader)
John owes Kate a dinner and makes good on his promise. You are introduced to people from John's work life.
3k words
CW: swearing
This work is part of the S.N.A.F.U series, the Masterlist is pinned to my blog
The restaurant is based off a real one that exists elsewhere in the world. It's a sumptuous affair so it's sprawled over two chapters.
If it wasn't clear that I grew up before cell phones, this chapter should solidify that. I'm roughly the same vintage as John and can confirm life before caller ID and knowing who is calling.
Feedback welcome!
The evening is lit up by streetlamps by the time you arrive at the Chop House for dinner, the cold air heavy with threatening snow. The sidewalks gleam wet under the streetlamps and headlights of the passing traffic. John looks dapper in a dark grey three-piece suit, the tie and handkerchief patterned with a deep green that compliments your dress. You had smugly assumed John would be the problem tonight, his gaze heating every time he caught a glimpse of velvet stretched over your curves as you got ready.
He had been preoccupied with getting himself dressed so he had missed your initial lingerie selection, a strapless bra and no panties – the dress too tight for anything else without showing lines. Not much escapes the big man’s notice but you are thankful that seems to have flown under his radar, although with his inclination to be handsy with you, you wonder how long your luck will hold. As it turns out, however, the tailored lines of his suit keep drawing your eye, distracting you completely. His broad shoulders fill out the jacket like it was molded to his measurements with exacting precision. He’s caught you out twice so far, not paying attention at all to what he’s saying, wrapped up in fantasies that glaze over your eyes. The second time he smiled deeply, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he gently jolted you out of your X-rated daydream to put your high heels on. You’re wearing a long black pea coat over your dress, the velvet doing a decent job of keeping your legs warm as you step out into the cool night air.
You share a secret smile with him when he helps you out of the car, the valet waiting for the door to close behind you before taking the car to be parked. You have butterflies in your stomach, wanting to make a good impression on these women. John spoke highly of both of them, although he’s only worked with Kate. His presence is soothing, an anchor to your tumultuous anxieties. You run your hand over the front of his jacket, unnecessarily smoothing his lapels down, letting your eyes wander over the material wrapped around his deltoid.
“If you don’t stop looking at me like that-”
John’s voice is pitched low, for your ears only, but he gets cut off by someone calling his name. You’re slightly disappointed you don’t get to hear the rest of the threat, John’s hand landing low on your back, steering you forward.
“Kate. Michelle.”
A pair of women step towards you, one dirty blonde with shorter hair and the other slightly taller, wearing her dark, thick, curly hair slicked back, gathered into a high bun at the top of her head. It creates a halo effect, framing her face beautifully. John greets them both with brief hugs before introducing you first to Kate, the blond, and then her wife, Michelle. Kate has no jewellery aside from a wedding ring that you can see, but Michelle has golden hoop earrings that complement her honey skin and her matching wedding ring. As John advised earlier you forgo air kisses for shaking hands with them both, Kate’s grip is firm where Michelle’s is gentle.
“Shall we?”
Kate asks, her accent not as twangy as you had anticipated. John leads the way, holding the door open for your group as you file in behind him. You hand your coat over to the attendant at the coat room, waiting for the rest of the group to do the same. Kate is wearing a suit herself, a dark blue with black silk lining the slim lapels and a crisp black button-down shirt. Michelle is wearing a retro off the shoulder A-line cocktail dress, thick pleats of navy-blue fabric gathered around the waist of the skirt creating a classic feminine silhouette. A chunky gold necklace matches her earrings and catches the subdued lighting.
“Oh, I love your dress!”
Michelle says as she turns to rejoin you after handing over her own coat. You feel heat crawl over your cheeks, shooting a look at John before thanking her and telling her you were just admiring hers. John looks smug, and his hand resettles on your lower back, sparking the low simmering desire in your belly. A part of you knows you will never be able to wear this dress again without thinking of him, buried deep inside you and telling you he thought of you wearing it when he was alone, off working somewhere in the world. John’s warm hand stays on your lower back, a tactile reminder of those recent erotic memories until you reach your table, when he pulls your chair out for you.
The restaurant is styled in classic old-world opulence, the wingback chairs wrapped in leather and the table tops made of marbled quartz. Kate repeats the gesture for Michelle, pulling out the chair opposite yours for her to sit. John and Kate exchange a look you don’t understand before taking their own seats. John sits beside you, looking like the cat that got the cream. Kate notices as well.
“You’re looking well John.”
John looks up from the drink menu, casting an assessing eye over Kate before responding.
“Been resting up at home the last few days. Are you looking forward to getting home soon, Michelle?”
John redirects the conversation, and you smile to yourself. You know better, his definition of ‘resting’ in this context broad enough to include making dinner every night and doling out regular toe-curling orgasms.
“The townhome Kate’s work puts us up in when we’re here is starting to feel like home. It’s the weather I can’t get used to. This wet cold is the worst.”
Both Kate and John make sounds of agreement, but you’ve never been anywhere with any other type of cold. Isn’t snow just frozen water?
“What’s a dry cold? How is that better?”
You venture and John turns to answer but Kate beats him to it.
“A wet cold means you have to dry out first before you can warm up. Dry cold doesn’t have the moisture in the air.”
“Doesn’t get in to your bones in the same way, love.”
John adds. Kate’s face softens for a brief moment before she carries on. Her delivery style is no-nonsense but kind.
“You only really get dry cold in places with low precipitation.”
You already know better than to ask how they know this, assuming it’s something learned first-hand. You’re realizing, not for the first time, that there is a significant part of John’s life that you aren’t privy to. Silently you wonder if Michelle is equally left in the dark about her wife’s work life.
“Is it a dry cold where you live then?”
“Washington gets its fair share of precipitation but it’s nothing compared to this country. It’s a good thing the rental comes with umbrellas ‘cause we didn’t pack any.”
Michelle answers you, and you smile at her quip, agreeing that they’re more necessity than accessory here. The waiter stops by, delivering the menus and water. John looks at you for your drink order so you don’t have to raise your voice across the table and you ask for a glass of full-bodied red, letting John choose on your behalf. Kate notices everything, her vigilance reminding you somewhat of John’s inability to relax in crowded spaces. John orders himself a single malt whiskey and your glass of wine and Kate orders a gin and tonic but Michelle sticks to water which elicits a remark from John.
“Rough night last night?”
“No, we have a Doctor’s appointment tomorrow. Trying to keep the system primed. Want it to take this time. As much as I love our semi-regular jaunts across the pond, I’m ready to sit a few out.”
“You complain about not having direct access to Gregg’s sausage rolls when we’re home for longer than two weeks.” Kate deadpans, unconvinced by her wife’s statement.
“I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you, that’s exciting.”
John ignores Kate, and Michelle rewards his discernment with a smile. He turns to you and explains the doctor in question is a fertility doctor which crystalizes your understanding of the conversation.
“That’s very exciting! Congratulations, I hope it works out for you tomorrow. You must have a generous boss to let you travel as much as it sounds like you do.”
Michelle grins, her excitement palpable.
“Thank you, I’m nervous but looking forward to it. As far as bosses go, I own my own consulting business; I do environmental data analysis so I can work from anywhere and generate my reports. I have some university students who work in placements doing the data collecting and then we assimilate it and generate a report.”
“Oh, that’s interesting!”
“Yes, and varied, each project is a new challenge. I love it.”
“She’s highly sought after in the area, there are a lot of National Parks nearby. A lot of businesses have to do impact studies if they’re operating in or near the parks.”
Kate clarifies for you, pride bleeding into her tone.
“Well, that’s lovely, built in clientele. Is that how you two met?”
Michelle tips her head back and laughs as her wife turns slightly red, but smirks nonetheless.
“No, we met in a bar in Annapolis, her boyfriend at the time was being an asshole and I de-escalated the situation.”
Kate supplies, and you suspect that’s not entirely true given Michelle’s bout of laughter. Once she’s calmed herself, she colours in Kate’s bare bones explanation.
“I was dating a man who had a delicate ego-“
Kate scoffs but holds her tongue when Michelle shoots her a look.
“-and he didn’t like that I was thinking of quitting my job at the time to start this business. He didn’t think I could make a go of it and was going to blow my life savings. Kate listened to him berate me for about ten minutes at the bar before she brought her beer over and joined us, without asking, and proceeded to counter every negative thing that man said with a potential positive. You should have seen his face. She talked me up so much I ended up leaving the bar with her that night and broke up with him the next day. I’d never dated a woman before but the confidence was so sexy, I was like a deer in the headlights. Couldn’t look away. Still can’t.”
“Aw! that’s the definition of sweeping you off your feet-“
Kate changes the topic you before you can comment any further, clearly uncomfortable with being the object of praise.
“So, how did you and John meet?”
“Oh, nothing as romantic as that. John was mates with a boy I was seeing at the time.”
It’s John’s turn to scoff but unlike Kate he doesn’t hold his tongue, adding his two cents to the story.
“Boy is right, his mouth was writing cheques his ass couldn’t cash.”
“John.”
You admonish gently, more to keep him from getting worked up about something that happened over two decades ago than anything. He sits back, gesturing for you to continue as the waiter returns with the drinks. You wait until John requests some more time with the menus before continuing, taking your wine out of his outstretched hand smoothly as you speak.
“John found out his mate had been harassing me after we broke up. Following me home from school. Waiting for me outside shops, not taking no for an answer when I told him to leave me alone. Repeatedly calling my home and asking for me even after I told him I was done. Making my life a general hell. John caught him bullying me on the way home one day after he got back from basic training. He’d been hanging around waiting for his mates to let out from school and watched my ex badger me down the lane. John got into a fist fight with him about it. Broke his cheekbone. The ass left me alone after that but John gave me his number in case he started following me around again and we stayed in touch after that.”
John sips his whiskey, seemingly satisfied with your version of events. Kate is clearly not, however.
“How come you weren’t charged with assault? None of that is in your transcript. If the MP’s got wind of it, it would have been.”
Kate asks, clearly mystified. You can’t help but note that she’s read John’s transcript and wonder what else she knows about his life.
“The lad’s parents were convinced that the natural consequences were better than their son standing trial for a stalking charge that had multiple eyewitnesses.”
“Who convinced his parents?”
It’s your turn to ask, never having considered that part before and John slides you an even look before he answers.
“My father.”
“Ah. Well, that tracks.”
John hums in agreement with you and Kate looks from you to John and back again.
“Sounds romantic to me.”
Michelle offers and you can feel heat creeping over your face again. You had been given a front row seat to a bloody and painful exchange; it had never occurred to you to think of it as romantic. Heroic maybe, but you had attributed that to your gratefulness of having the harassment finally put to a stop.
“John was just doing the right thing. We stayed mates for years after that. We only started dating a few months ago.”
You explain to Michelle but the back of your mind is now trying to rehash the past for clues of John’s feelings. Was it romantic that he beat up your ex? As if the man in question can read your racing mind he reaches over and rests a big hand on your tense thigh, his thumb stroking over the velvet in tiny circular motions. The distraction works and redirects your attention to the present moment in time to catch Kate’s words.
“Sounds like John. Can’t watch a situation go sideways without mixing in.”
She’s looking at John with the hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. The man beside you doesn’t argue, raising his whiskey in salute to the dirty blonde.
“So, you’ve known each other for a while then?”
Michelle gets the conversation back on track, her eyes bouncing between you and John.
“Oh lord, yes. I couldn’t have been more than 15 or 16 when all that went down? Put me right off dating for a while. My brother would tease me that I’d be a spinster.”
“You have a brother? What was he doing when you were being harassed?”
Kate is indignant on your behalf which is endearing, considering you barely know the woman.
“He thought it was funny. He’d answer the phone and tell me it was one of my girlfriends to get me to pick up. He’s younger than me, so thought it was all a good laugh to see me scared. My parents thought it was just teen drama and told me to sort it out myself. They both worked and weren’t around much.”
John’s hand squeezes your thigh before retreating, a comforting warmth rolling through you at his easy familiarity in front of his friends. You shoot him a smile as the waiter returns to the table to take orders. Unsurprisingly, John makes the most of this opportunity and orders a porterhouse steak. You and Michelle both order smaller servings of filet mignon, and Kate surprises you by requesting a lobster and steak combo. The women seated across from you exchange a glance, Michelle clearly wanting to say something about Kate’s ambitious selection. You hide the smile that wants to erupt behind a sip of your wine at the unspoken conversation happening across the table.
“How’s your wine, darling?”
John’s eyes are on your hand, wrapped around the stem of the wineglass you are holding aloft. You’ve painted your nails a deep red, matching your lipstick, the contrast against the green of your velvet gown eye-catching. You finally let the smile that’s been threatening to creep across your face loose, John’s distraction a small victory as far as you’re concerned.
“Very good, French this time?”
You ask, his interest in all things food and drink related an endless source of fascination to you. You suspect it’s partly due to the military food he’s been eating for half his life that drives his taste to the more refined when he’s given a choice. You trust his judgement and he’s rarely steered you wrong.
“Spanish, small vineyard.”
Kate’s new line of questioning interrupts your reply to John.
“So, you have a younger brother, what about your parents? Are they still together?”
You feel your heart drop, even though you’ve fielded this question many times over the years. It never seems to get any easier for you, nor have you developed a simple way to gloss over the loss to make it more palatable. You set the wineglass down on the table while you take a breath, forcing the smile that was stretched across your face back in to place.
“Yes, they were killed by a drunk driver in a head on collision. I’m told it was instantaneous.”
Michelle’s gasp has the smile slipping but you rally, John straightening up in concern at your side.
“Shit – I’m sorry-”
Kate tries to apologize but it’s your turn to interject, waving her concern off.
“No, it was years ago now. It’s fine, I just never know how to casually slip that in when it comes up. I’m going to freshen up before dinner arrives, excuse me, won’t you?”
Your heart is thrumming against your breastbone as you stand up, John half out of his chair before your palm on his shoulder stops him. You just need a moment alone to take a few deep breaths and recenter yourself. John’s concerned hovering will only muddy your waters.
“It’s alright, I’ll be right back.”
You reassure him quietly, your voice thin against the sudden wave of emotion. Your fingers squeeze the broad muscle of his shoulder before weaving your way across the large room to the bathrooms. You don’t have to look behind you to know John’s eyes are following you, you can feel the heat of his gaze on your back sending pinpricks of awareness through you.
Next Chapter
Ao3
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Belphegor brainrot...?
I wanted to put together all crumbs about Belphie just like I did with Asmo.
We know Nilfheim is a something like a military hive mind. Nobles use swords or other melee weapons (the scythe is somewhat included in this), and since consistency is usually maintained, plus Bathin has a uniform resembling a soldier (we will talk about uniforms later), let's very roughly assume that it is, to some extent, a knightly country.
Okay I'll be honest, I'm just amused by the idea of Belphie as a mixture of Sleeping Beauty and a knight on a white horse lol.
I don't have a screenshot unfortunately, but Satan during Halloween event said Beplhie don't like tedious work (even if it's just a signing.) Expected. He's embodiment of sloth after all.
Actually, I can relate.
It looks like Gusion and Bael could shake hands. But Belphie is there, he really does a lot when he's out of his cave. It is not without reason that it is said that lazy people are the best employees because they will get the job done in the fastest way.
Looks like his Majesty is flirty! A big point in my opinion, because for me he seemed cold and distant. I was afraid that we would be too similar to Leviathan, but I guess that's not the case.
He doesn't sound like this decision bothered him at all. I don't know how to interpret it, so I leave it here out of chronicler's duty. And to please the eyes, look at my pretty boy!!!
But... that's it. That's all. So, I have found a related topic to rabmle about.
Nilfheim boys what's wrong with you?
We only know two, only recently three of them. Gusion, Bathin, Andrealphus.
And I guess they have a different definition of military than us.
Two of the three are like, "hey, have you seen that unicorn in the green cloak? This one who is never in his country? Great idea!" and yeeted themselves from Nilhfeim.
He just. Randomly visited Earth. Because why not.
Honey, you don't. Although… you're the devil. *Hands AO3* Have fun!
We are fresh from Andrea's escapades to Avisos. We know that he spends a lot of time there and from the screenshot above we also know that he doesn't really need things like his king permission to be happy.
Considering that Bathin is friends with Stolas...
...aka his personal radio, I'm sorry I can't get over this lol, it is very possible that he also often visits Avisos. Beel, you are tempting nobles from the next country and you are not even in your own country.
Bathin? Andrea? I understand that in a sentence "The devils of Niflheim almost never move individually" you are the "almost". Two of the three known. A known majority. They are hopeless.
And you know what? The third one isn't any better.
Yeah. Who in a MILITARY COUNTRY would wear a uniform. Well, no one normal. Let's get back to those uniforms, this time for real.
We already know that Gusion doesn't bother with such bullshit, so we don't know if what we actually see is the one times he wears something he should wear all the time. (I guess we do and he just doesn't have a jacket.)
Bathin has a uniform, but it's from Paradise Lost. It is possible that his appearance refers to this and not Nilfheim, as we know that other devils associated with foreign countries, especially Buer, but also Sitri, have appearances related to the latter country.
Andrea seems to be the most reliable. But who knows? He wanders where he shouldn't, do you think he would care about his uniform? Plus… A wing? And a halo? Exactly.
Ultimately, I would lean towards uniforms of nobles that look like hitmans. Just like someone described Andrea in the event.
At least one thing is right. The devils of Nilfheim are unnaturally strong, even by their standards. We all remember how Andrea abused every angel in his path. Even the big guy who seemed to break him like a match. No, the big guy was shaking like an aspen under his feet as Andrea happily dismembered him. As we can see, Gusion's sword also proves his strength.
Even some of Nilfheim's lower devils seem to have great fighting skills. Not all of them, of course. One is a fish.
We have the least information about the countries of Asmo and Belphi, but we have some coherent idea about Abaddon thanks to the nobles. Nilhfeim? Nope! Funny country. I can't wait to visit it.
#whb#what in hell is bad#whb belphegor#whb andrealphus#whb gusion#whb bathin#whb theory#whb nilfheim#overanalyzing#I am impressed by everyone who reads this spam of mine#mwah a kiss for you
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the angel: three
(first) (prev)
you feel like you should...
... pick your bones up and face the music.
slowly, piece by piece, you pick yourself off the floor and try to chase away the halos in your vision. you move your gaze up and up at the figure standing over your kneeling form and meet the worried eyes of cross, the forever dutiful guard. you ignore the hand cross offers you, instead choosing to painfully stand on your own. cross doesn't say anything, but his eyes travels up and down, searching for anything amiss.
"you okay there?" cross, blunt as always, asks.
"just peachy," you answer with your signature smile.
"... right," cross turns around and starts walking. "come on. let's get you a cup of water. you look like you need one."
miraculously, your body unsticks itself from the ground and follows him just fine, your footsteps measured and your hands mechanically relaxed in your pockets of your well-worn jacket. the walk is shorter than you've anticipated, as the kitchen is just two rooms away. you enter through the doorway into the dimly lit space. cross has his back turned to you, and you feel a sudden urge to scare the life out of him. but you restrain yourself, staring at your untied shoes with your eyesockets itching to pour your broken determination out like an oil spill. the floor is not the most interesting thing, you guess. whoever decides marble flooring in a kitchen is a good idea should be tied to a tractor. or worse, fired from their job.
"take a seat," cross says, as he browses through the cupboards.
shrugging, you move to sit at the kitchen countertop, folding your hands on the surface as you wait for cross to do whatever he needs to do. cross approaches you with a cup - an adorable ceramic cat-shaped one. you accept it. the water does little to alleviate the nausea in your soul, but at least it quenches your thirst.
cross sits one seat away from you, and you ignore the tiny spark of annoyance brewing in your chest. as you expected, cross opens his mouth to ask, "so what were you doing on the floor back there?"
"urgh, since when are you my caretaker?" you shoot back, momentarily surprised by how aggressive you sound.
"since you trashed the whole place," cross replies, sipping on his own cup of water. when did he get it? whatever. "you smell of booze. bad day?"
"tell me about it," the words spill out of your mouth uncontrolled. "hangover's a bitch."
"wouldn't know. i'm not an alcoholic."
"always so uptight, aren't you?" you tease him. "let loose once in a while, soldier boy. at least i know how to have a good time."
"if that's your version of a good time, i don't want to know what your bad time looks like," cross says through the rim of his cup. you chuckle lightly.
"probably for the best. it's not pretty, for sure."
both of you fall into a companionable silence. it's unusual, moments like this. the room temperature is just right. cross is not too bad as a conversationalist. you listen to the sounds of the buzzing light bulb above you and the humming motors of the refrigerator, feeling as if you can fall asleep right there and then. but you still have tasks to do. you turn to cross.
"you know where angel is?" you ask him, to which he frowns a bit.
"dust?" he hums. "he's not in his room?"
"haven't checked. too lazy to do it." you say, like a liar.
"just let him sleep in. it's fine."
"wouldn't boss be mad though?"
cross freezes. and your soul skips a beat.
something's wrong.
"killer," cross intones, slowly as if cornering a feral stray cat. "where do you think you are right now?"
your grip on your cup tightens. the buzzing sounds intensify in the silence.
(next)
#cw unreality#the plot(?) kicks in now#what is happening#even i don't know#cast your votes everyone#killer sans#cross sans#utmv#undertale au#i write#fic: the angel
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Better Off - Bernard DeMarco x OFC - Chapter 7
Masterlist | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 |-| Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12
AO3
Summary: On the day of Charlotte's wedding, Susie and DeMarco grow closer than ever
Warnings: Discussions of death, language
Word Count: 3.5k
Tags: @xxluckystrike @latibvles @footprintsinthesxnd @mads-weasley @joyfulbookreviewmarvelspy @justheretoreadthxxs
The scent of someone else's perfume filled the bathroom of the Thorpe Abbotts village hall as Susie stood in front of the mirror, craning her head forward to get a better look at herself and ensure not a single hair had managed to slip out of place. Usually, she couldn't have cared less about such a thing. But today was Charlotte's wedding, and the thought of embarrassing her in any way was mortifying, so today she would play any part that was required.
With a creak, the bathroom door was thrust open, and a pair of women hurried in together, chattering amongst themselves as they reapplied their lipstick in one of the other mirrors. Susie swore she recognised the pair, but out of uniform everyone looked so different. It seemed it should have been easier to pick faces apart when everyone wasn't dressed identically, but she found that her mind was drawing a blank.
Sneaking behind the women and out into the corridor, Susie let out a sigh, arms swinging at her sides as she impatiently awaited the moment that they could finally make their way to the chapel for the ceremony. She'd spent all morning hanging bunting and streamers in the main hall in preparation for the reception, but now it seemed there was nothing left to do but grind her teeth and wait for the time to pass.
"Oi!" A voice hissed from the other end of the corridor, and Susie frowned as she turned, finding Maeve staring at her from the furthest doorframe. Cropped, yellow hair curled beneath her ears, and a maroon dress falling past her knees, she looked wonderful, but her confusion-stricken face gave her pause.
"What?" Susie called.
"What're you doing? Get in here!"
Now it was her turn to frown in uncertainty, hesitantly accompanying her to the end of the hall and pausing in the doorway. Charlotte was stood over by the window, the morning sunlight shining against the silk of her dress, creating a glowing halo around her as if she were some heavenly vision. She turned as Susie entered, a sudden look of relief washing over her. "Oh, Susie, where have you been?"
"I dunno. Just sort of... wandering. Was I supposed to be in here?"
The two women stared at her for a moment, sharing the same slightly dumbfounded expression. "Well. Yeah. Your sisters are married, aren't they? You should be a pro at this by now."
Susie shrugged. "Oh, well, I didn't..."
"Hm?"
"I didn't do the whole bridesmaid thing. They all figured it wouldn't be my thing. I just... sort of went with it."
Neither seemed to quite know how to react to this, frowning sympathetically. Charlotte took a deep breath, crossing the room towards her and taking both of Susie's hands in her own. "Well, I want you here. After all the hours you spent helping me with this dress, don't think you're getting an easy out."
Letting out a chuckle, Susie finally smiled, a grin creasing her cheeks as they flushed a bright shade of pink. For a second she almost hugged her, the sudden urge unfamiliar, but she restrained herself for fear of messing up her hair.
"Alright. Tell me what to do."
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
DeMarco stood patiently outside the church, attempting to catch his reflection in one of the stained glass windows as he tugged at his jacket, trying to get it to sit right. He had begrudgingly accepted the nerves that fluttered in his chest, the realisation leaving an odd taste in his mouth as his gaze flitted from the church doors to the end of the path, squinting in the midday sun. A crowd of guests had gathered here, but he was yet to spot a familiar face, the men around him all friends of the groom from the RAF. For perhaps the first time since arriving at Thorpe Abbotts, Benny was alone. Susie couldn't have come fast enough.
"Psst!"
Tearing his eyes from his own reflection, he glanced towards the sound, a somewhat confused smile curling his lip as he spied Susie, carefully making her way towards him as she darted between gravestones, wobbling on her heels slightly in the uneven grass. Pinned back behind her ears, her curls rolled over her shoulders, seemingly redder than ever against the powder blue of her dress, which rippled and swayed with every movement. For a moment he was slack-jawed, unable to form a word of greeting to call out to her until she was standing right in front of him. Her shoulders were relaxed, jaw unclenched. She was smiling. DeMarco had gotten so used to having to coerce a smile out of her that it was almost jarring.
"Afternoon," Susie nodded, brushing something off his shoulder as she came to stand beside him. From the way her gaze lingered at the church door, he could tell they were about to head inside, but in that moment he couldn't quite bring himself to care about the wedding.
"You look... really pretty, Suze," He uttered. Her face reddened almost instantly, gnawing at the inside of her cheek. DeMarco could practically see her fighting the urge to tell him to shut up. But she didn't say it.
One of the groomsmen called from the doorway, and the guests that had been lingering on the grass began to file their way inside towards their seats, ready to finally begin. One by one, he watched them walk past and disappear into the old, stone building, but Susie didn't move an inch. Like the heels of her shoes had been nailed into the ground, she remained wholly still, almost as if she'd forgotten that she was even supposed to be there. He stayed firmly at her side, not saying a word until it became clear that she wasn't moving any time soon.
"... Susie?"
"Haven't been in a church since..." She breathed, so softly it was scarcely audible. DeMarco didn't need to ask what she meant. Feeling a sudden warmth against her palm, Susie glanced down to find he'd taken her hand in both of his, squeezing it with gentle reassurance. She looked back at him, and he swore he'd never seen such softness in her expression before, eyes welling with nothing but warmth, utterly without reserve for the first time.
"This'll be good," He promised. "Yeah?" A smile had begun to worm its way into her expression, the corner of her lip curling upward as she nodded, hand still in his as she turned towards the church door. As they crossed the threshold, he lifted her knuckles to his lips, briefly kissing the skin as a snort of laughter escaped her.
She'd elected to take a seat at the very back - he suspected the idea of being able to make a quick, quiet exit appealed to her. But once they'd sat down, it was only moments before Charlotte arrived, bracketed by her parents as they made their way to the altar, where a grinning RAF officer awaited her. She looked marvellous - the gown was truly a testament to her talent - but as the bride passed, Benny couldn't help but remember that night two weeks ago, when he'd seen Susie in that same dress. Eyes wide, hair wild, bumbling and clumsy beneath the folds of fabric - and yet it struck him then that she had looked infinitely more wonderful to him than anything else he could possibly recall.
Even as the ceremony went on, Susie didn't seem quite capable of settling, drumming her fingers against her thigh and thumbing the pages of the Bible on the shelf in front of her, never once falling entirely still. She was certainly paying attention, but she could scarcely go a few minutes without letting her gaze wander towards the door, as if debating whether or not she could make a successful attempt at escape. Leaning back against the pew, DeMarco stretched his arm out along the back of her seat, softening the hard wood when she rested against it. Wordlessly, Susie leant sideways against him, the movement ceasing in her hands. He smiled, letting his head tilt to the side to briefly tap against hers in silent acknowledgement.
She could feel warmth filling her as she rested against him, and Susie wasn't quite certain if it was more from the press of his body against hers or the rush of blood rising to her cheeks, heart pumping harder, forcing it to move. It was a strange sensation, and one that caught her entirely off guard. How could the simplest of actions put one relationship so drastically apart from all the others? She'd known comfort - known contentment - with so many others before. With her brothers and sisters, with Charlotte and Maeve. Yet it had scarcely felt so simple, like something she didn't have to earn.
How many times had she let her mind wander back to the night of the bombing raid? The night she'd bitten the bullet and finally called her sister, the night he'd first seen her cry, the night he'd held her without ever having to ask. With it pushed back into the past, Susie could finally admit to herself that it had been the safest she'd felt in months - quite possibly years. She hadn't thanked him as well as she should've. She knew that.
When Charlotte kissed her new husband for the first time the guests around them erupted into applause, echoing against the arched stone ceiling above. For a split second, she hesitated, failing to join in until she felt DeMarco's arm retract from its place behind her, freeing up his hands to clap. Once she too joined in, she was as raucous as the best of them, and yet Susie was ashamed - ashamed to think that, if he had not moved, she might not have clapped at all, simply watched in silence as one of the only people to offer her friendship married the love of her life.
When had she become distractable?
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
The village hall boomed with the swing of the band, the boys who played the officers' club having kindly volunteered their services for the night as wedding guests paired off and danced across the polished floor. Susie's hands were folded behind her back as she stood before the makeshift bar, fingertip tapping out the song's rhythm against her palm as she waited for her turn to order. Next in the queue stood one of the women she'd passed in the bathroom that morning, hair falling in jet-black rolls, red lipstick stark against the paleness of her complexion. The woman seemed to recognise her, turning with a friendly smile, and Susie suddenly realised that she had been one of the ATS recruits from the hut next to hers - although her name still didn't come to her.
"This is great, huh?" She asked with a grin, gesturing across the room. "Charlotte's done such a great job."
Susie nodded along, realising she probably looked shell-shocked as she brought her eyebrows back down her forehead. "Yeah, yeah - it's really great. She's been so excited, I'm just glad it went well," Glancing over to the dancefloor, she spied her friend, swaying side to side in the arms of her beloved pilot. Susie had only met Freddy a handful of times, but he'd always seemed a decent bloke to her.
"Amazing what you can pull together in times like this. Y'know, I'd just love to have something like this someday. Bigger church, maybe, but... you just can't beat a good country wedding."
"Uh, yeah, hundred per cent. Me too, I think."
The other women raised a brow, shooting Susie a questioning look. "Really? I dunno - you never seemed like a marrying type person to me."
Something sank. The bartender handed the woman her wine, and for a moment Susie fought the urge to throw it in her face. She didn't even know her.
"Oh. Um. Well, I dunno - probably."
"That's so cute," The woman tilted her head to the side, and she swore she could've strangled her. "Well, I'll see you around!"
Forcing a strained smile, Susie offered a curt nod, scared to utter another word for fear she might say something regretful. Instead, she waited in pained silence until the woman was entirely out of sight, before stepping up to the bar and ordering two pints, jaw painfully clenched the entire time.
DeMarco was smoking a cigarette outside, the warm glow from inside the hall bathing his back in a yellow light as she approached the open door, a glass of beer in each hand. A puff of smoke escaped his mouth as he turned, expression lighting up as he noticed her arrival, holding out a hand to accept his glass.
"Oh, you're the best," He grinned, flicking his cigarette onto the ground and stomping it out, already moving back towards the door as he spoke again. "Let's head in."
"No-" Susie blurted, halting him in his tracks. "I mean, you can. I'm gonna stay out here for a bit."
"You okay?" He asked, frowning slightly. She nodded hurriedly.
"Oh, yeah, yeah, no - I'm fine. Just... yunno... loud in there, innit?"
Humming in agreement, still visibly sceptical, DeMarco took a sip of his beer, wandering a little further away from the hall and taking a seat in the grass where the sound from inside was muffled. Careful not to spill her drink, she joined him, feet tucked beneath her as she sat cross-legged on the ground.
She wanted to ask him then - do you think I could be the marrying type?
But he would have said yes regardless, just to make her feel better. That wasn't what she wanted.
Her siblings had all done it - had moved away into their happy homes with their husbands and wives and children. Even Ellie had had a boyfriend - and they'd always been suspicious of her brother Owen and his flatmate, John. There had to be a deficiency - nothing else could explain it. If they'd all come from the same place, all lived the same lives, then the only outlier was Susie herself.
The only problem was Susie.
DeMarco clicked his fingers in front of her face, snapping her back to the present. "-you do this thing where I can't tell if you're listening," He said.
"I'm listening," She assured him, although she had no idea what he'd been saying. He was leant back on one elbow, raising his beer to his lips between sentences, clearly in the middle of a story.
"Ok, so then I told Gale-..." He trailed off, eyes narrowing up at her. "You weren't really listening, were you?"
"I'm sorry," Susie admitted earnestly.
Benny shrugged casually. "Don't worry 'bout it, doll. Something on your mind?"
"Oh, no, it's not-"
"Nuh-uh, come on," He urged.
She sighed, before taking a long sip of her drink. "... We're friends, right?"
DeMarco almost choked on his beer, blinking rapidly as he cleared his throat. "Well... yeah. I mean, we're - we're... Yeah, I - I'm your friend, Suze. Course."
"I just... what do you actually like about me?"
He sat up straight, brow furrowed in concentration, taking her question with complete seriousness. "Well, you make me laugh - even when you're mean to me, 'cause I know you don't mean it. And you're smart, and you don't give a shit what anyone else thinks of you. You're brave - you stand up for people when they need it... and even though you're scared of caring about other people, you do it anyway, 'cause I don't think you can help it."
Susie took one long breath after another, fighting to keep her heart rate level and to stop the tears threatening to prick at her eyes. She hadn't noticed as it happened, but whilst he'd been talking DeMarco had absentmindedly reached for her, winding one of her curls around his finger, back and forth, over and over. It didn't seem that he had realised either, for once he finished speaking he dropped it, frowning slightly at himself.
"I do care," She breathed. "About what people think of me... Just not people I don't like."
"And there's a lotta people you don't like."
Susie cracked a smile, a huff of laughter escaping her. "Exactly."
DeMarco grinned. The moonlight bathed him in a blue-tinted glow, his eyes darker than ever and yet still so very gentle. This wasn't the same man his friends seemed to know - not the 'Benny' they yelled for across the pub in the middle of a game of darts, not the daring pilot with his wise-cracking charm.
There were so many ways in which he could hurt her.
And so many reasons why he wouldn’t.
"I like you."
I care what you think.
"I know."
She tilted her glass to her lips, feeling the last few drops of beer slide smoothly down her throat. These weren't their first drinks of the night, and she could feel a distinct sense of fuzziness creeping in, blurring her thoughts together.
"I didn't thank you properly - for the other week. After the raid."
He scoffed, shaking his head. "Nah. You don't gotta thank me. I wanted to do that."
"... Yeah?"
"I waited for you, didn't I?"
The corner of her lip curled upwards in a soft, melancholy smile. They hung in silence for a while, a thousand unsaid implications stewing in the air before Susie could think of something to say.
"I, uh. I had to go through my sister's stuff after she died - figure out what to do with it all, y'know. And I found this old diary - I had no idea she kept one, and I still dunno how she kept it a secret when we were all in together like sardines. But there were these pages in the back, all these sums, and - she was shit at maths, right? Just so shit at it, I had to help her with all her homework, she never got it. But she'd done all these calculations, and I was trying to figure it out, and I realised it was all the money she was making from working at the paper shop - she was trying to figure out how long it would take, how much money she'd need to move out and go live somewhere else.
"Except there were all these other numbers that I couldn't understand - and it didn't make sense to me until I found one of my old payslips from working at the cinema. And then I realised... she'd been doing the maths for us both. She always wanted me to come too - she didn't want to leave me behind."
Susie couldn't quite fathom why she was telling him all this - what it meant, what she expected him of all people to take from it. But DeMarco listened nonetheless, a look of utter focus creasing his expression as she took in every word.
"I think when she died it felt like I lost my future too. Like, I didn't even know she'd been planning it, but it always made sense. She was the only person who I always felt like was looking out for me, like I wasn't an afterthought to. And... I'm not mean because I want to be. I'm just angry. All the time. Because she should've been the safest you can get and she still died, and I guess I just didn't see much point afterwards. So I found other stuff to be angry at - stuff I could actually do something about."
He said nothing, just stared up at her, something indiscernible to her in his eyes.
"... Shit, do I sound like an insane person now?"
"No!" DeMarco bolted upright from where he had been reclined slightly against the grass. "No - no, not at all, Suze," Lifting a hand to her face, he swept her hair to the side, fingers combing through her curls as he leant forward to press his lips to her temple.
Susie wasn't quite certain what had come over her, but the moment he was close enough she reached out, wrapping her arms around him and collapsing against his chest, chin tucked into the crook of his neck. He returned the embrace without a word, sucking in a long breath as he stretched his arms around her shoulders, holding her tight.
"Sorry, I'm like a... fucking basket case who's not very fun to hang out with," She joked, voice muffled against his collar. As she let out a slight huff of laughter, he felt the warmth of her breath against his neck, his body momentarily tensing.
"Susie. I am so uninterested in hanging out with anyone who isn't you."
#masters of the air#fic | better off#bernard demarco x oc#bernard demarco#demarco x susie#mota oc#masters of the air oc#oc: susie#mota#masters of the air fic#mota fic
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The Gift (4 of 15) (Witch Steve AU)
previous: Chapter 3 Boys Are Witches Too (Part B) next: Chapter 5 You're Doing That On Purpose (Part A) Ao3 Link - Chapters will be updated ahead of Tumblr Content: 1.5K words, CW: Eddie briefly uses homophobic language against himself.
Last chapter, Steve called back his mother to explain the latest round of the Upside Down and the Hawkins crew heard and accepted Steve's accounting of being a Witch. Now, Eddie wants to have a deeper conversation about what happened when he died.
Chapter 4 Break the Illusion
They had all been talking longer than he had realised, Steve thinks as he enters the kitchen. A window, facing out into the back garden, lets in the soft light of the late afternoon sun, its golden rays spilling over Eddie, creating a gentle halo on the dark cloud of his hair. Eddie's metalhead armor—the oversized black leather jacket, silver wallet chain, and worn jeans—seems incongruous against the peach floral patterns of the backsplash their interior designer installed back in '82.
Eddie has hopped up onto the tiled counter in front of the window, facing the door as he waits for Steve to join him. He’s also returned to that enigmatic expression again, Steve notes, though Eddie’s white Reeboks tap restlessly against the cupboards and his fingers twist at his rings, belying a nervous type of energy. He hopes it’s not him that is making Eddie jittery.
Steve waggles his fingers in a wave from the doorway in an awkward feeling of déjà vu, trying to communicate his harmlessness.
“Why’d you do it, man,” Eddie’s face may not be giving much away, but the tightness in his voice worries Steve.
How does he go about explaining the uncanny to a person who has never experienced it except in short and deadly bursts through a murdering psychopath or a journey through an eerie replica of their town?
Eddie hadn’t acted so reserved before he died, before he was brought back to the revelation that Steve is a Witch. Even in the midst of that damned forest he had been full of irreverant comments while easily swaying into Steve's personal space. The thought that Eddie may look at his white eye now and see the ashen and grotesque Vecna sits heavily in his gut.
Considering Eddie's limited exposure to the variety of mystical present in their world, Steve supposes he can excuse the guy for being tense. A heavy sigh gusts out of him in an attempt to let loose the apprehension stuck at the back of his throat. Determinedly, Steve walks towards Eddie and hops up beside him on the cool tiles, intent on breaking through whatever barrier has sprung up between them.
His hands brush against the back of Eddie’s thigh as he settles on the counter and Eddie whips his head to Steve in surprise, but this time he gets the puzzling sense that it’s like Eddie can’t imagine Steve wanting to be physically close to him.
Steve wonders why that would shock Eddie so much. They had started a tentative friendship, hadn’t they, in the Upside Down? They had shared insecurities and glances of comradery, and silently agreed to protect Dustin as much as they could. They weren’t strangers, is what Steve’s getting at; the experience of the Upside Down was as intimate and bonding an experience as any war.
Maybe that’s how he should approach this, Steve muses, listening to Eddie’s tapping heel create a hollow sound on the blonde wood.
He had gained the best of friends by being honest on a gross bathroom floor the last go round. Perhaps presenting the truth as simply as possible will regain him Eddie’s trust.
“I won’t lie,” Steve promises, catching Eddie’s wide eyes.
“It was risky and pulling you back from the other world was a buzzer beater, even for me. But I don’t think you know what would have happened if you had died. There were so many people, Eddie, who were going to hurt. Who were never going to get over it. I could do this one thing, so I did.”
Eddie scoffs, looking down as he wears at his fingers around the rings, his skin starting to turn an irritated red. “Yeah, I don’t think the local freak disappearing is going to cause that much of a wave.”
“Eddie,” he grabs the other boy’s hand, ignoring the zap of warmth from their connection, the soft humming.
Eddie stills, but doesn’t look up.
“I know you don’t have much reason to have faith in what I can do but believe me when I say that I have the power to See this. And yeah, it would have hurt a lot of people. Dustin…”
Steve has to draw a breath to cover the anxiety he still feels over the tapestries he had unveiled. “Dustin would have been devastated.”
Steve watches Eddie’s lips quirk bitterly through the curtain of his dark hair, his black leather-clad shoulders almost as high as his ears. “Yeah, that shrimp doesn’t know any better,” he says.
“It’s not…” Steve cuts himself off, frustrated. “I’m not great with words, that’s Nance. But it wasn’t only Dustin, Eddie. I didn’t look far, but I Know that there are going to be people who love you so much that they don’t even realise the strength of your loss yet.”
Eddie's fingers tighten around his own and Steve belatedly realises that he’s been holding his hand this entire time. Still, Steve doesn’t drop it, thinking that maybe the connection between them is needed right now, to convey his sincerity.
It’s nice too, the feeling of warmth and affection shared in a simple touch. Other than Robin, it's rare that he has the opportunity to have skin-to-skin contact with anyone these days. At his heart of hearts, Steve is a tactile guy and it's just not the same as when he tousles Dustin's hair or pulls Max in for a side-hug. And, as much as he loves his mother, she never was the demonstrative type, even when he had seen her regularly.
“I think you’ve got a pretty great way with words, Stevie.” Eddie looks up at him from the corner of his one hazel eye, still looking a little tense but something was released with his words, Steve realises, relieved. The knot in his gut unclenching. Maybe being a Witch and deciding to change the tapestry of fate wasn’t going to stop him and Eddie from continuing to be friends.
Steve lets the responding lightness he feels fuel his answering smile, “Yeah, yeah. Don’t tell anyone, they think I’m an idiot. Don’t want to break the illusion.”
“I did too,” Eddie admits guiltily. “Before all this,” he waves his free hand in the air. “I thought you were some empty-headed jock who, while not the worse of the bunch, was certainly a member of the asshole brigade.”
Steve winces, “You weren’t far off.”
“Nah,” Eddie grins, leaning further into Steve's space to teasingly tug on a lock of his hair. He's so close that Steve can smell the warmth of Eddie's cologne and feel the subtle heat of his body.
For a moment, Steve’s breath catches and he’s not sure why.
Eddie seems oblivious as he continues talking, “Turns out you’re a good dude with a head and heart ready to save people. Even people you barely know.” The last of his sentence ends in a deep murmur while Eddie reflects on the bronze strands that he has effortlessly captured between his fingertips.
“Eddie?”
Eddie blinks, letting go to tug at the sable waves over his own ear. He holds up their joined hands. “You don’t mind this?”
“What, holding hands? Robin and I do it all the time.” Robin has a lot of opinions about what she describes as the overly moist and disgustingly warm parts of the human body, but she likes to hold hands just as much as Steve does. Sometimes they’ll watch a film, backs to the opposite ends of the couch but connected by a loose clasping of their fingers.
Eddie sneers, though Steve doesn’t think it’s directed at him. “Not afraid of catching something from the local queer?”
Steve blinks rapidly, trying to remember what that store owner had told him and Robin at their Indy visit. His gaze moves beyond the pale orange tiles that they sit on to the golden amber of the maple island across from them. Steve absently traces the wide space as he cautiously decides on his words.
Drawing on Robin's language and style from when Steve had shared a simliar admission, albeit with far less self-loathing, he shifts back to Eddie, trying to make his eye contact serious and free of judgement, "Thank you for telling me. I’m happy you felt you could share that with me.”
Even as he says the stilted words, Steve feels like an idiot; but his sincerity must have been felt by Eddie because the other man's shoulders drop along with his defensive layer. "Steve,” Eddie laughs. “What are you doing, man? You sound like Twiki.” He mocks Steve with a robotic bidi-bidi-bidi sound.
Steve bumps him with his shoulder in retaliation. “No! I just...” He groans, he really isn’t great with his words. “I have this friend,” he starts carefully. “And we visited this place for the first time last year.”
“Oh, no! Mystical traveller, you've trapped me in a maze of endless possibilities. What riddle do I need to answer to understand your wisdom?” Eddie cries out into the air, bringing both arms up in supplication, Steve’s arm wagging alongside him.
“No, shut up.” Steve keeps laughing, pulling their clasped hands down to rest on the counter between them, before Eddie shakes his whole arm off.
“It was a queer bookstore, and we were talking to the owner about how my friend told me they were gay, and Chris shared about when she outed herself. And it was terrible! Like really awful and she said all she had wanted was someone to tell her that it was okay.”
Eddie’s expression softens and his teasing smile quirks to the side. “That’s really sweet. You’re sweet, Harrington, aren’t you?”
Steve brightens with the compliment even as he rolls his eyes and jumps off the counter, letting go of Eddie as he does. Eddie lets him only to lean forward, elbows on knees, “Sweet little Harrington, looking after his lost lambs and saving the unrepentant satanist of the Hellfire Club.” His eyes are gleaming.
Steve points a bossy finger in his face, pulling it back before Eddie’s mock chomp connects. “Don’t make me regret it, Munson.”
“I think sweet little Stevie, you should just call me Eddie.”
Eddie sticks out his hand and, smiling, Steve shakes it in agreement.
“Oh wait!” Steve drops Eddie's hand, calling over his shoulder as he rushes away, “Wait right there, I’ll be back.”
“Okay.” Eddie sounds amused and a little bewildered.
Steve runs up the stairs two at a time and bursts into his room. Cleaned and folded on his dresser is Eddie’s vest.
He checks it one more time – there are some blood stains that he couldn’t remove from the blue denim for the life of him, but he hadn’t wanted to scrub too hard and wear out the material. He gives it the sniff test as well – smells fine, just like his laundry powder, though he thinks he may have accidentally gotten some of his hair spray on it too. It’ll be okay, Eddie won’t notice.
He runs down to present his offering to Eddie, who's idly drumming his heels against the cupboard again, although now he leans back on his hands while staring up at the ceiling.
Eddie casually glances down to Steve as he bounds into the kitchen, lighting up and quickly reaching forwards as he sees what's in his outstretched hands, “My battle vest.”
Eddie runs a ringed thumb over a dark patch. Steve thinks that the maroon colour could pass for the stain of red wine, but wonders whether Eddie prefers the aesthetic of blood instead — something far more aligned to his admiration for Steve tearing his teeth through that demo-bat.
Nevertheless, he apologises, “Yeah, sorry, I couldn’t get it all out.”
“Nah, it’s fine, Stevie. It’s Metal, right?” Eddie looks up, happy. “Thanks, this has a lot of memories for me. It would’ve sucked if it’d gotten lost.”
Steve feels that warm glow of having done the right thing. He reckons that he may have come out the other end of the Upside Down with another good friend after all.
If you liked anything, please consider leaving a comment over on Ao3 :-) It would make my day!
Taglist
My taglist is always open, so let me know if you want to be added. Likewise, if you want to be removed, let me know. :) If I've missed you, definitely tell me because it's an accident!
@a-gae-af-racoon
@a-lovely-craziness
@aly-reads-alot
@bookworm0690
@cinnamon-mushroomabomination
@ellietheasexylibrarian
@everyrandomthing
@finntheehumaneater
@geekymagicalpotato
@goodolefashionedloverboi
@hallucinatedjosten
@ilikeititspretty
@just-a-tiny-void
@ledleaf
@littlewildflowerkitten
@lostonceandneverfound
@manda-panda-monium
@matchingbatbites
@nburkhardt
@newtstabber
@obliosworld
@oliver-sykes
@platonicbesties4life
@probablyscreamingintothevoid
@rajumat
@scoops-stevie-archive
@spectrum-spectrum
@swimmingbirdrunningrock
@tartarusknight
@whackyrach
Edit: @mightbeasleep
#witchsteve#steddie#platonic stobin#stranger things#steve harrington#any unexplained references are detailed in chapter notes on Ao3#eddie munson#paperbackribs writing
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An AU of how Ryo finds out about the POTS. People wanted a Ryo fic so I delivered 😅 however looking at it, only the beginning and the end has been written.. sooo there is an actual story that was supposed to happen. This must have been one of the late night fanfic vomit. It’s 12 pages.
Ryo looked around his friends apartment a bit nervous as he stood in the doorway. He had taken his shoes off and was ready to step in but he and Sage had come in at a bad time? He had caught something about a fainting spell in the shower and was told to stay where he was.
So he did.
He shifts uncomfortably on his socked feet before stepping into the hallway. He stops at seeing the sitting room and tilts his head grinning as he sees the giant stuffed killer whale. He walks over and kneels down petting it’s head.
He looks around the room relaxing a bit more at seeing the fish tanks and plants, then his eyes stop on the familiar skyblue hoodie.
“I’ll get it. Hang on. No, yer not goin’ anywhere. Stay with Sage. Are you sure you need THAT hoodie? Alright alright…if I were a skyblue hoodie where would I-”
He lifts his head and stands back up properly. “Maybe, check the couch?”
Rowen startles not expecting to see Ryo in Cye’s living room. He takes the saught after hoodie trying to figure out, “…when…how..”
“Sage. He said that I could join when you guys took Cye out to lunch and to find him a new jacket?”
“Ah you’re going to be the heater.”
“Huh.”
“Long story. Look, uh, take a seat. Somethin’ happened and we just need to take care of it, ok? I’m not sure if Cye wants ya back there…” He sighs heavily as Ryo’s expression drops. “Look, its not just you. Kento wouldn’t be allowed back there either.”
“I-Is he okay at least?”
“Cye? Yeah. He’s lucky he’s got Torrent. Without it… we maybe in the hospital.”
“Wait what?!”
“Stay here Ryo.”
“Rowen are you crazy!? Where is he?” Ryo pushes past him running down the hallway, “Cye?!”
Rowen groans before chasing after him, “Ryo!”
The bearer of Wildire skidded to a stop in the doorway to the bedroom. His eyes widened nervously at seeing his friend all but naked on the side of the bed, Sage was beside him holding a towel to his head. “C-Cye? Dude are you okay?!”
Cye startles moving quickly to try and cover himself but is held fast by Sage. “R-Ryo…I-I…”
“He’ll be fine Ryo. He fainted in the shower.” The blonde states carefully. He looked past Ryo to see a frustrated Rowen standing behind him. “Did you get the hoodie?”
“Yeah, I got it. Buddy, are you sure you want to put it on? If your head is bleedin’, it’ll mess it up.”
“B-Bleeding..”
“The armor will heal it in a few hours.” Sage reassured Ryo and Cye.
Cye blushes bright red mortified at Ryo seeing him like this. Ryo blinked before turning around so he wouldn’t see. “Uh sorry, bud. Just got worried when Rowen said you were hurt.”
“..it was my fault. I stood up in the shower. I shouldn’t have.” The younger one admitted.
“Shouldn’t have what? Did you trip?” He asked.
He looked up from where his back was turned and saw Rowen’s eyes narrow, “Yeah, dunno about trippin’”
“Oh alright, I tried to stand and get something that I should have had already down on the ground with me.” Cye muttered obviously caught by the tone of his voice. “Then the blood rushed to my head and I woke up on the ground with Rowen screaming for Sage. Sorry Ryo, I bet it was a bloody racket earlier.”
Ryo heard Cye wince and then heard rustling. He stole a peak and saw Cye had his hoodie on and was having help getting the rest on. He turned back around at seeing Sage shake his head.
“Bloody was one word for it. Are you going to let me use Halo to heal it faster or are you going to be stubborn and go out shopping with a head injury?” The blonde holds his arms out on either side of the youngest warrior ready to catch him or steady him if a blood pressure drop or spike happened while pulling his jeans on.
“Should he even be out shoppin’? What if he has a concussion an’ we just don’t know about it.” Rowen asks taking the bloodied towel out into the laundry room.
“Halo will tell me if anything like that happened.”
“Ok, Ryo.. you can turn a-around..” Cye leans on Sage’s arms hanging his head slightly as he does his best to catch his breath. He was light headed. His hand weakly grasped at his friend’s arm to stay up right.
Ryo moved closer not liking how unsteady the other was, “Woah, dude. You ok?”
“You need to sit.” Sage stated not giving the other another option.
“Not here. T-The couch.”
“Are you going to make it to the couch?”
The water bearer nodded determined.
The other just sighed heavily, “Ok, lean on me. Ryo stay close, I may need your help.”
*~*
Rowen stepped out of the laundry room finally confident that the stain would more than likely come out of the towel and walked back to the bed room, it was empty.
“We’re in here.” Ryo called from the den.
He walked into the sitting area and saw Cye was laying on the couch, a compress over his eyes. Sage was kneeling beside him meditating. By the green glow of both of them he knew Halo was being used.
“Everything ok?”
“Uh I think so… Cye said he felt sick to his stomach and his eyes hurt. So I helped him lay down and I got a warm compress… I think he fell asleep. Then Sage started to heal him with Halo.” Ryo explained watching as Rowen walks to the couch and leans over the side gently lifted the compress temporarily.
“Yeah he’s asleep. Good. He needs to rest.” Rowen looks up to the other. “Don’t worry. Once he wakes up and eats somethin’ we’ll be on the road.”
*~*
Ryo stumbles up the stairs holding one of Cye’s arms over one of his shoulders. He looks to Rowen smiling nervously as the younger warrior hung limply between them. “…i-is this normal?”
“Ryo, I don’t know what normal is anymore. He can faint at any given moment, you just get used to making do. I am upset that the elevator is out. While it would have caused him to faint, he wouldn’t be having to do this. I put several requests in this week to have it fixed.” The archer grumbled as he pushed the door open to the fifth floor. “And before you say anythin’ yeah, Sage and I have spoken about him possibly changing apartments.”
“But Rowen who-”
“I know. I know.” The unasked question hung heavily in silence as Rowen pulled the totebag off of Cye’s shoulder gently, “Here. Take this and find the key. I’ve got him.” He manuevers himself in a familiar stance catching all of Cye’s weight against himself. He moves his shoulder in a way that gently catches the other’s head as it drops. “Should be on an orca keychain.”
The bearer of Wildfire drops to his knees as he digs through the skyblue totebag. “You know if you give this to Mia, she could organize it…her purse has like all of these pockets and small bags…its’ weird but efficient.”
Rowen smirks, “So you’ve been into her purse, have you?”
“Well, when I forget my house key and hers is at the bottom of her bag, yeah?” Ryo tilts his head confused missing the joke.
They go quiet as Cye moans groggily. The one holding him up sighs relieved, “Easy buddy. Take your time. I’ve got ya. Ryo’s unlockin’ the door and Sage is parkin’ the car.”
“Got it!” Ryo grins happily as he opens the door and holds it open. “Uh need help?”
Rowen looks the youngest warrior over trying to gauge how fast he was waking up. He looks into the half focused eyes and smiles, “Cye? How many heads do I have?”
“…t-too many.”
“Ok, yep. I’ll need yer help.”
Ryo holds the door open with his foot as he turns holding an arm out. He tries not to act shocked as an ice cold hand weakly grips it. “D-Dude, you’re freezing…”
“…sorry Ryo..” Cye leans most of his weight into Rowen as they help him inside. His legs were still numb and about gave out once inside. “R-Ro!”
“Alright, enough of this game. Up and at ‘em.” The other picks up the smaller warrior in a cradle carry in one swoop and holds him in his arms. “To the couch we go.”
“..but my tea. Sage promised-”
“Ryo can put the kettle on the stove. Besides, you need electrolytes and sodium first.”
Ryo lifts his head at hearing a heavy grumbling sigh and familiar “..fine…” smiling slightly at hearing his friend sound somewhat back to normal.
*~*
“Ryo? Can you hold the door open for me?” Sage calls from the otherside.
“You got it-“ Ryo pulls the door open again and moves out of the way. “I still can’t believe we got all of this at the same time.”
“This is nothing. What I can’t believe is that we have to carry it up to the fifth floor.” The blonde sighs as he sets the first armful down. “However, he’s needed this. Thank you for going. Kento is too loud about things and would have made a big deal out of it all.”
“Out of what? Clothes?”
Sage nods, “He still can’t wrap his mind around everything happening with the POTS and the changes it’s causing…mainly all of this. He would have gotten Cye worked up.”
This time Wildfire’s eyes widened, “…he’s lost weight…I thought he looked smaller b-but Cye’s already so small…”
“Yeah. I know. He doesn’t know the extent of it but he’s not blind. We basically got him a new wardrobe. What I want your help with though this is.” He pulls out a new bedding set. “Can you go remake his bed. I need all five layers on it and this heating blanket on high under the top.”
“Uh sure.” Ryo grins. “I think I can manage that!”
“How is he?”
“Cye fainted halfway up the first flight of stairs. Ro and I carried him up the rest. When he woke up, he said Rowen had too many heads and I think he about collapsed on us. Rowen just carried him to the den after that.”
Sage sighed pulling his coat off hanging it by the door. “I was afraid of that.”
“I put water on the stove but Rowen mentioned electroyltes and sodium?”
“I’ll get that together. Go make the bed. Going out wears him out, so he’ll be in bed in a few hours I’m sure.”
“…i-in bed?”
“The POTS takes his energy away a lot faster. He’ll be in bed at least for tomorrow if not the next day before he’s up on his feet again. Go on and make the bed.”
Ryo looks down at the new flannel sheets and soft but heavy blankets, “…s-sure.”
Sage watches him go down the hallway before he picks up another one of the new blankets and shakes it out. It was a second heated blanket. “Cye? Rowen?” His voice dropped in volume slightly knowing the younger warrior would more than likely have a headache.
“In here.” Rowen answered. He looks up grinning, “Alright! Cye, he pulled out one of those fancy heated blankets.” His hand dropped back down onto the red hair as gently as he can. The other warrior was curled up on his side, head in Rowen’s lap as he dozed in and out peacefully.
“He’s asleep.”
“Good. Better than earlier.”
“I heard he was dizzy when he woke up.” The blonde reaches around the couch to plug the blanket in then lays it over the smaller frame tucking it in. “Ryo is remaking the bed with everything we got.”
“How is Ryo doing?”
“What do you mean?”
“Sage, this is his first time dealin’ with all of this. You forget that we’re used to it by now.” Rowen shakes his head sighing. “And it’s not something we should be used to…”
“I’ll go check on Ryo. Just let him rest for a bit. Will you be ok?”
“Just hand me that book and I’ll be fine.”
Sage turns and looks to where the other is visually pointing with his head and picks it up handing it over. “Ok, I’ll be back. Call if anything happens. We’re right down the hallway.”
*~*
Ryo’s hands shake as he pulls on the bottom sheet onto his friend’s bed. He used his armors power and put a little bit of heat on the cloth each time he touched it leaving it comfortably warm once he was done.
His mind was racing on how he had missed all of this during the war with Talpa and even after. When they were in New York it wasn’t this bad… or was it? Rowen and Kento stuck so close to Cye it was hard to really get a word in edge wise. That one time they were alone, Cye had stayed away almost guarded against him knowing anything.
He had taken that as that it was handled and to not stick his nose in it. But now… he was always there when Mia was on the phone with Sage getting updates. He saw her features drop with each call and could hear the concern in her voice as she tried to help.
It was always a speciality doctor and a hospital trip or something about the symptoms that got worse. He had been relieved when Sage asked him if he wanted to help Cye find a winter coat. He didn’t know it would mean all of this.
He was thankful to be apart of it but … that wasn’t his friend that he’d faught Talpa with. It was Cye but … he shakes his head.
“It’s a lot to take in, isn’t it?”
He turns and sees Sage in the doorway. “How do you do it?”
“When you’re forced into the situation and have someone who depends on you to figure it out so he doesn’t accidentally kill himself when fainting… you figure it out really fast.” Sage sighs walking over to help Ryo finish making the bed. “He needs Rowen and I to help him wade through all of this.”
“You don’t blink an eye at any of it though. Cye faints on Rowen and he just catches him like it’s nothing and –“
“Ryo, Cye faints at least twenty times a day. The shock factor wears off pretty quickly. What you saw today was a good day. He only fainted eight times. Yesterday, he went down on us at least 30-35 times before he was forced to the couch. That’s just what his POTS does.” He shrugs. “I’m not saying that to scare you…it just is what it is… we haven’t had time to be scared. It all happened so fast.”
“Cye’s really grateful you’re here.”
The blonde glanced over at him before smiling, “I’m not sure about that. I nag him about eating right and I refuse him his tea most of the time.”
“How did it happen?”
“Ryo, you really don’t need to know-“
“Sage, don’t hide it from me. I can take it.”
Halo tucked the blankets in one at a time before he stands up. “Hand me Wildfire then I’ll tell you.”
“What? Why!?”
“Do it.”
Ryo holds his hand out and his armor orb appeared in his hand. It glowed red before “virtue” appeared on it. The other reaches out and takes it turning the light down, the power going with it. “Sage, what is going on?”
“Talpa did it.”
Ryo’s blue eyes narrowed, “W-What?!”
“Shh. Don’t be so loud. This is why you weren’t told.” Sage closed the door behind them. “And why I took Wildfire. Cye would never forgive you if you toasted his room.”
“What do you mean Talpa did this?”
“Talpa took our life forces when he captured us. He kept threatening that we’d never be the same afterwards. Apparently he somehow got more of Cye’s than he got of Kento and I. I-It sadly came back as an auto immune response.”
“….what?” The color drained from the other warriors face as he sat down on the edge of the bed. “i-if Rowen and I had gotten out there faster and …and rescued you guys we could have-“
“Ryo, we don’t know that. Cye was the first one to be captured by Talpa. It could have happened at any time from that point onward.”
“No, Sage. It’s not ..this isn’t….Cye is that way because of us?! Because of Rowen and I?!”
The blond watches as the other paces a bit, “Calm down. Cye doesn’t need to hear any of this. He was adamanet about you not knowing because of this.” He sighs realizing that the other wasn’t going to calm down that easily. “Look, go outside and scream if you need to but you’re not getting Wildfire back until you’re calm. Cye needs you if you can stand it but I can’t fault you for panicking.”
Ryo pushes past Sage and all but runs down the hallway and out of the apartment complex. The other sighs and stands still holding the armor orb in his hand. Halo’s power was calming what it could of the Wildfire’s flame but it was still hot in his hands.
Nothing he could say or do would fix any of what Ryo was feeling. He, Rowen and Kento had already processed it all in their own way.
It was Ryo’s turn.
*~*
Rowen lifts his head hearing someone come almost running down the hall. He sighed and covered both of Cye’s ears as the other slept so he wouldn’t here.
“Well, I told him.”
“Went well I see.” He half jokes smiling sadly. His smile drops off at seeing the Wildfire Armor orb in Sage’s hand. It was glowing and it looked like it hurt to hold.
“As well as it could have. He didn’t “toast” the room as Kento would say. I made him give me his armor orb before he could hear what happened.” The blonde sighs shifting the ball in his hands. “He’s still mad though, I can feel it.”
“Maybe ya should get a hot mitt or something.”
Rowen watches as the other leaves wordlessly to go do just that. He sighs leaning back into the couch looking down at the youngest warrior as he slept. He smiles slightly petting the other’s head gently, “You’re lucky you’re cute, buddy…”
He couldn’t blame Ryo for being angry when he himself was still livid at himself for not being there to save everyone sooner. If he and Ryo had gotten there earlier, in theory, Cye wouldn’t have wound up like this.
“Hey Sage..”
“Yeah?”
“Here, do you mind switchin’ with me?”
Sage raised an eyebrow, Rowen had never asked that question before when with Cye like this. “Where are you going?”
“The only one who can talk to Ryo about this is someone who was there… it was just he and I. I dunno, maybe it’ll help if it’s me.” Rowen shifts slightly letting Sage hold Cye up so he can pull away then the other takes his spot. “I’ll go find him.”
He saw Sage get comfortable out of the corner of his eye and relaxed knowing Cye had someone to curl up against and wouldn’t wake up for awhile if he was lucky.
Now he just had to find Ryo.
*~*
The bearer of Wildfire lifted his head as he heard his name. He turned around and saw Rowen hurrying to meet him. “Rowen… what are you doing out here? What about Cye… is Sage with him? Is he awake?”
“Uhh out here to find you,” Rowen counts off his fingers as he answers the questions. “Cye is still fast asleep and yeah Sage is with him. You can’t really leave him alone these days without supervision… the whole fainting thing.”
“Rowen, we could have prevented all of this from happening. Cye is like this because of US. We took our time getting to the Dynasty when we should have just jumped in.”
“Ryo, don’t do this to yourself.”
“How can I not?! Rowen, it was OUR job to save the guys. They depended on US and we failed them.” Ryo groans frustrated again heaving as his usual energy isn’t gone with a rush of fire. He was pacing a bit instead. “N-Now Cye… he can barely walk without help.. he needs Supervision or he can crack his head open…”
“Ryo lis-“
“Does Cye know it was Talpa?! That we failed him!? Does Kento know as well?”
“Ryo stop. Listen to me. Cye does know. As soon as the symptoms started to appear, Sage got ahold of Kayura through Halo. She helped him figure it out.”
“How can you help Cye knowing you caused it?”
Rowen stood there staring at the other trying to come up with an answer. He didn’t have one that he could verbally answer with. He felt that pit start growing in his stomach again, the one he thought he’d gotten rid of. “Ryo..”
“I couldn’t look him in the eye.. I-I can’t…Talpa did this and we helped him do it because we were too slow. We took too much time thinking!”
“He doesn’t blame us…” He finally got out. “D-Damn it, Ryo. Cye doesn’t blame either of us. Its why he didn’t want you knowing. He took his time telling you and Kento because of this. You and I did what we had to so we could get to them. We moved as fast as we could.”
“You just act like its all okay – its not!”
“No, it’s not. You’re right. It’s fuckin’ awful in that apartment. You don’t think we know this!? Sage and I have been sole caretakers of Cye for almost a year and a half, Ryo. You’re acting like we don’t know all of this. Yes, he needs help. A lot of it. Yes, he faints a lot. He can’t control any of it, Ryo. He’s terrified of what’s happening but thankful we’re all here. It’s terrifying every time he faints on us. None of what’s happening is “ok” Ryo. But he’s alive and we’re doing the best we can.”
“But Rowen-“
“If you can’t see him again right now, that’s fine. I’ll just let him know you had somewhere to be. But do not come back in there lashing out. He doesn’t need that. He’s already so worried about what you guys are going to see if he’s not at his best. But he can’t hide this POTS like he thinks he can.”
Ryo bites back tears hanging his head. “N-No, you can both do this… I should be able to.”
“If it helps, Kento can’t do it yet either.” Rowen offers heaving a sigh. “He’s ok as long as things are normal but once it turns into,” He motions towards the apartment. “He has to bow out. Cye’s ok with it. I’m ok with it. Sage is as well. He doesn’t think you love him any less.”
Ryo stood there quietly fidgeting nervously. He wrings his hands and as he spoke this time his voice broke slightly, “…but why Cye…? Why out of all of us did..did Talpa do that to him? If it had been any of us….”
“I know.”
“…it wasn’t the white armor?” Came another weak question.
“Kayura didn’t say it was. It was Talpa’s influence on Torrent and the life force he pulled from Cye.”
Ryo swallowed nervously unable to hold back a few tears almost out of relief. Rowen tilts his head worried, “Buddy what is it?”
“….it wasn’t my fault then?”
Rowen blinks then shakes his head, “No, Ryo. It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t any of our faults. I-It just …it happened. We can help now. Talpa is dead. Cye is alive. We need to keep him that way. Can you help us..?”
Ryo nodded more firmly than before, “Of course.. I don’t know a lot but can you teach me?”
“We’d love too and don’t worry, Cye isn’t always like this. He’s just having a hard day. Just wait until it’s a normal day and he’s nagging you about something.” Rowen grins stretching. “Sometimes you just wish he’d faint to give you a break.”
The other smiles his shoulders drop, “Kento said he’s really bad about that.”
“You don’t know the half of it. Come on, you can be there when Cye wakes up. He was nappin’.” Rowen tugs Ryo to his side giving him a half hug before leading him back inside.
#third try to post this#tumblr keeps deleting the post#ronin warriors#pots universe#fanfic#I hope you like it!!#there is also a typo that I fixed the first time but I can’t find it now#if you see ‘here’ instead of ‘hear’ I know it’s there 🫠😭
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She already knew the approximate shape and size of the sorrows Lucifer was attempting to drown before she found him in his office. Such was knowledge won from experience, won from several sleepless nights spent trying to convince him to open up to her. The sin of pride kept his feelings locked behind an iron door, but she’d been handed a key more than once. - lucifer obeyme has eldest daughter trauma, let's get into it
read on Ao3 pairing: Lucifer/MC (she/her) word count: 1,380
spoilers for after lesson 16!!
She already knew the approximate shape and size of the sorrows he was attempting to drown before she found him in his office. Such was knowledge won from experience, won from several sleepless nights spent trying to convince him to open up to her.
Lucifer’s sin of pride kept his feelings locked behind an iron door, but she’d been handed a key more than once.
At first, it felt like she had to convince him that her feeble human mind could handle the depth of his worries. Then there was the realization that such prejudices were a veil to hide behind, too.
Now, she’d won battles enough to face him like this—late at night, bringing with her a bottle of demonus and a warm blanket. She loved to make offerings of comfort to her favorite demon.
She didn’t knock on the door. Experience taught her that he wouldn’t answer.
There he was, when she turned the knob, at his desk, halo-ed by the light of a flickering candle behind him in the window. His hair, usually pristine, was ruffled. His jacket was removed and his shirt, with two extra buttons undone, lay unevenly across his chest.
So few beings would get to see him like this. Unkempt and unraveled.
“I knew you’d be here,” she said. “Are you cold?”
One wouldn’t think that the Devildom would get cold. But it did. Lucifer’s office especially.
He shook his head, remained silent. He didn’t protest, though, when she came to his side and laid the blanket across his shoulders.
She knew better than to push him to speak. These interactions followed a script now. She took her usual seat on his desk, legs swinging just beside him. He didn’t bat an eye at the intrusion like he had before.
Once he acclimated to her presence, he’d eventually speak freely about his troubles as if she weren’t in the room at all.
Lucifer was a troubled man. He worried constantly.
There was a certain anxiety that never went away once one had lost everything. Their home, their place in the world, their young sister.
She knew a fuzzy, intangible version of the same feeling; everything she loved was in another realm entirely. It was different, though, because she could go back. Lucifer had lost everything permanently. And he lived with that reality, for the better part, alone.
His brothers, though they’d lost the same things, couldn’t possibly understand. To them, the Celestial realm was a childhood, a distant memory. To the younger ones, it wasn’t a thought at all. Losing that had been an inevitability of growing older. Besides, they enjoyed the frivolity of life in the Devildom.
Lucifer, though, he’d enjoyed being good. He’d excelled in his previous life. In the Devildom, the eldest was always treading water.
He didn’t regret it, as painful as it was. Lucifer enjoyed being able to sacrifice for his brothers to enjoy their half-lives. He hoped they would never come to notice that anything was missing.
His pride allowed him so little room for regret, anyhow.
“Should I have told them sooner?” He asked, voice barely above a whisper.
She waited a moment, wondering whether the question was posed rhetorically.
He looked up at her, eyes searching, prompting a response.
“I think you made the right choice,” she said, “you know what’s best for your brothers.”
A sardonic laugh pierced through her careful answer.
“Do I?”
“I think so.”
She knew that persistence was key with Lucifer. So often, he tested her allegiance by pushing her away. He’d known so many lonely years, it didn’t phase him to tempt a few thousand more.
When he remained quiet, she raised the bottle of demonus she’d brought from its place on the desk.
“I brought you this,” she said, “it was a gift from Mammon.”
Taking the bottle from her hands, Lucifer seemed to clear for a moment. He looked up, as if truly seeing her for the first time.
“This is a drink for celebrations,” he chided.
She shrugged. This was something she’d guessed but, as a stranger in a foreign realm, she was allowed to make the occasional mistake. If those mistakes gave Lucifer a reason to speak to her, so be it. He could never resist correcting someone when they were wrong.
“In my realm, we drink for all sorts of reasons.”
“I know.” He knitted his brows at her. It annoyed him when she attempted to explain human customs to him. “Why did Mammon give you this? You know it doesn’t have an effect on humans.”
Again, she shrugged. Playing innocent was so much easier than admitting that she’d asked for the bottle for just such an occasion. It had been meant for Lucifer all along.
“You were drinking before I got here.”
He barked a laugh. “Yes, wine.”
“Keep that for a celebration, then. You can say you confiscated it from me if you won’t have it as a gift.”
“Hm.” He ran a thumb along the wax seal on the neck of the bottle as his eyes glazed over with unpleasant thoughts again. She was only ever able to distract him from his racing mind for a few moments at a time.
She waited. Like the brothers were assigned representative sins, sometimes she felt that patience was her assigned representative virtue. It had been an uphill battle for all of them to accept her the way they did. Every good thing that had happened to her in the Devildom—every moment of tenderness from the brothers—had been fought for and won with saintlike forbearance.
Lucifer spoke again. “I thought I was guarding them from temptation to see Lilith. And that I was guarding Belphegor by keeping him locked away. But if I lost my brothers’ trust in the process, was it worth it?”
Silent, she considered. Though she felt it unlikely that the brothers’ trust had been lost in earnest, she knew better than to push back. Her best tact at the moment was silence. He needed an empathetic ear above anything else.
He continued, “They all hate me. All that I’ve done for them—“ He paused, took a breath. She recognized the act of checking his pride. “I thought I was being selfless, shouldering the blame. Maybe I was wrong not to trust them.”
“You did the best you could with the choices you had.” She reached down and pushed his hair back, hand lingering to hold his face. He wouldn’t look at her.
“It wasn’t enough.” He scoffed. “It’s never enough.”
Very realistically, he was right to keep the secret from his brothers. Lucifer alone was always going to be better than six unknown variables at holding a secret. This fact didn’t stop him from lamenting, however, when things became complicated.
“It’s not fair to you, the blame you’ve taken. But if no one else sees all you’ve done for your brothers, let it be me that does.”
Lucifer looked down at his desk, heaving another breath. He took the wine glass in hand and rubbed the condensation from below the rim. For all his pride, he could never take a compliment on the chin.
“Thank you,” he said, finally. “I just don’t think I can accept your kindness.”
“You don’t?” She almost laughed.
“Did you already forget that my brother almost killed you today? Because of me, you almost died.” Lucifer looked up to meet her eyes, face twisted into an almost frightening scowl.
She shook her head at him. “You aren’t responsible for Belphegor’s actions.”
“Truly,” he sneered, “humans have no sense of self-preservation.”
This was a common tactic from him. Insulting her species as a whole was easier than accepting the reality of her affections for him.
“Or, perhaps, I trust you.” She slid from his desk and deposited herself into his lap, curling her arms around his neck, both to hold herself in place and to make him look at her. “I knew you wouldn’t let anything happen to me.”
He avoided her eyes. “You give me too much credit.”
“Mhm.” There was no point in arguing with him. His pride was in tact, after all. Instead, she put her faith in the fact of her body against his. It was enough that she was there. It was enough that he allowed her to stay with him.
- thank you for reading! i am plagued by thoughts about him. comments/reblogs much appreciated!!
#lucifer's eldest daughter trauma is an untapped natural resource#and i am just the man for the fuckin job#lucifer obey me#obey me shall we date#omswd#obey me#lucifer#obey me lucifer#lucifer om#lucifer omswd#om#obey me swd#obey me fic#lucifer/mc#lucifer x mc#lucifer/reader#lucifer x reader#obey me/reader#obey me x mc#obey me x reader#obey me/mc#obey me shall we date one master to rule them all#slight angst#celestial war#lucolestead#lucolestead fic
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🔞 "Asynchrosis" Pt.4
i'm so happy folks are reading and enjoying asynchrosis, this is easily one of my favorite pieces in a while,,,,,, anyway here's your part 4, i can't believe this is 3 nights in a row i've posted at least one part of this stuff,,,
"Lucid Dreams in the Trauma Center."
"Is she gonna' be alright? She's one of the few support pilots in this section of the fleet, we can't have her inoperable should we come under separatist fire." The doctor listened to the lieutenant, shaking his head slowly as she spoke. He was keeled over his desk looking through synapse reports on a collection of holo displays. Like all therapists he was overworked, mech pilots were a needy breed of soldier.
"Lieutenant, I can't assure anything. We've never seen a pilot go into Synchrosis that quick. This condition could be anything from a mild genetic mutation causing synapse reactivity to skyrocket, to a serious health risk related to pilot-mecha neurolink." He stuttered over his words as they tumbled from his lips, "If we put her back in a mechanized infantry suit, she could experience a total synaptic collapse, she could become neurologically dependent on halo connectivity, she could be even worse than other Class-X pilots -- chasing unreasonable, inhumane highs--" The lieutenant stared at him as he spoke, her lip furled on the right and her eye twitched a little on the left, it was clear that she wanted results, not... explanations.
"Find an answer doc, or I'll replace you with someone who will." She walked out, flapping her tailcoat in one swift motion as her hands moved down the zipper at the front of the jacket.
I climbed up the rickety mobile stairs which were placed at the foot of my machine, all the while staring at it's visage, a pink chevron struck into the purple finish of the rest of the machine, it's "faceplate" was a clean, smooth surface. This panel was made up of millions of LED bulb like sensor arrays, it was used to give me, when plugged into the halo port, an incredibly wide field of view to better survey and assess the needs of my squadmates on the battlefield. The stairs terminated at an entry port in between the two large shoulder plates of the mech. These plates contained a variety of medium explosive deployable armaments on a rotary wheel -- enough to bust really any conventional vehicles. I walked into the small space, it was a semi-spherical chamber of pure titanium planted in the upper breast-plate of the mech. This space, called the heart, was the shared containment chambers of the pilot, and also the synapse link drive, which was essentially the most advanced type of computer to have ever been developed.
I stared at the mold I would soon step into, suspended around the fairly innocent seeming system of clasps and locks, was a series of snug fitting silicon carbonate pads, held in open air by robotic arms. The functions mechanic walked into the pod behind me and gave me a wink. I just looked at her excitedly, waiting for her to help me get in. My functions mechanic was a little older than me, 31 to be exact, she had a head full of curly red hair which she was quite fond of wearing up on a ponytail. Today she was wearing a loosely fitting black sleeveless shirt, under it, she wore a sports bra. which covered her adorable B cups. The shirt was tucked into a pair of similarly loosely fitting cargo pants that were suspended by a mechanics belt. She looked rough in the nicest way possible.
"You ready starstrider?" she said with a smirk at me, I couldn't help but giggle a little, I was drunk off lust as the sensory enhancers caused any minor movement around my tip to make me almost quiver from want... this became a problem the moment I saw her, and got so horny I almost came on the spot. Most Class-X pilots have a pavlovian response to their functions mechanics, or handlers. They associate them with being allowed to use their mech, and they will do almost anything for them because of this. Handlers and pilots often form pseudo-romantic relationships, or extremely casual sexual relationships. It's not uncommon on a Galligos ship which carries Class-X pilots to catch handlers and pilots making out in the halls, fingering or stroking eachother, sometimes in private, sometimes in public. Other times you'll see a pilot wrapped around their handlers leg when in public lounges, or wearing little trinkets their handlers ordered for them. I was personally partial to the collar my handler bought me. It was black with silver etching on the side that spelled out her name. It blended in well enough with my bodysuit.
I blinked back to consciousness after imagining her plowing me into the ground with her 8 inch dick later, and nodded at her, "Y-yes ma'am!"
She walked up to me and helped me mount into the mold, applying a simple metal rig device to my bulge which would allow the siphoning liquid to vacuum seal my girldick erect, instead of plastered to my stomach. aside from that she latched all of the major ports to the holes in my body suit, and made sure the bodysuit itself was firmly connected to the airlocks between the port, the bodysuits preplaced entrances, and finally the connecting mechanisms as to prevent wasting siphoning gel. When she got to latching the collection mechanism to the airlock around my tip, she leaned down in front of me and slipped my tip into her soft lips, I couldn't even see her, my face was covered by the auxiliary vision link, a VR system which would allow me to see if my halo link failed. I gasped, and let out a high pitched "Mffffhaaaa~", when I felt her lips run over the small metal ring that formed the airlock when the collection mechanism was connected, I winced and attempted to move, but all I could do was go limp as she slipped my pathetic 5 inches all the way into her mouth. I felt her hands run up along my slutty waist, I couldn't hold it anymore. I immediately shot a load into her mouth, staying incredibly erect. When she finished swallowing it, I felt her head pull back and as she lifted off my girldick she made a cute pop with her lips.
"Naughty girl~ You should save that for the mech." She then roughly attached the collection mechanism to the airlock, causing me to shoot another load into the tube. She smiled at me and pulled the lever beside her, causing the plating to wrap around me, she listened to me moan through her vox channel on our halos as she couldn't hear through the compression plating. I knew she had reached into her pants to stroke herself, and imagining her nonchalantly standing with the lever pulled in her left hand, and her right hand moving up and down her massive dick made me cum again into the collection mechanism. Finally, I felt it start, the siphoning gel was all suctioned up through the tips in the neck in a matter of seconds. The tubes were evacuated from the neck port and instantly, I felt the airlock clasps ram into my neck. I yipped and whimpered into nothingness, once again cum pumping out of me. I felt the sustenance ports extend and directly inject me with liquid water and vitamin paste.
In my head, as if a phantom I heard "Bye bye pretty starstrider~" as the mech finally plugged it's thick fucking neurolink into my halo port. I felt my mind meld and warp, until eventually my eyes began to lie. I could see the hangar around me, oh what a familiar feeling. It was at this point that the stimulus methods were deployed to my body, splayed out and suspended in open air inside the heart. The fleshlights lips wrapping around my tip, then being pushed down to my base. It was designed perfectly for me, I instantly released a fifth load as it started to vibrate and suction onto me, the synthskin being activated in my bodysuit made it feel as if there wasn't even a centimeter of clothing separating my girldick from it's lubricated interior. Shortly after, my ass was stuffed with a lube drenched rectal vibrator, immediately feeling it poke against my g-spot, I winced with anticipation for only a second as it started violently vibrating, I know whatever noise I made as it assaulted me with pleasure, my handler probably enjoyed it thoroughly.
Finally, I was prepared to be given control. The mech was suspended off the hangar floor by a series of deployment racks which held it up by the shoulders. I could feel the claws gripping the mech as if it was my own body. My excited brain caused the vibration in my ass and around my girldick to grow aggressive, I heard the countdown start through my halo-link.
5.
I had already begun to lose my sense of self as I wanted nothing more than to be released,
4.
I yearned for the rush of battle, I wanted to watch separatist reactor cores explode, and tanks be throttled into oblivion by archer missiles.
3.
I thought of infantry, insignificant squirming people, running under my heels.
2.
I lusted for the spill of coolant fluids over my chest, the simulated cold applied to me through my synthskin suit.
1.
My body desired nothing but the cold grip of my rocket pistol, and the orgasmic joy of firing it's payload.
0.
My eyes shot open.
The blue overhead lights shot on and my boxers were soaking wet.
Fuck. Not again.
#brainwashing#mech nsft#nsft#trans nsft#mech pilot#mech posting#mechs#mecha#robot girl#hornyposting#trans t4t#transgirl#Asynchrosis#emersons scrawlings
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Original Fiction: Supernatural Romance (future chapters 18+ only)
Book synopsis: After being turned into an incubus by a mysterious and powerful stranger, Kelsin grapples with his need to feed off of others for survival. This is a steamy romance about bodily autonomy, the importance of consent, and the freedom of two demons who become unexpected lovers.
---
Kelsin’s phone screen read 8:57. They would be here any minute.
He rested his hands on the bathroom counter, trying to ignore the way his shirt stuck to his back with cold sweat. A voice in his mind screamed that he should have feigned illness or just been honest about not wanting to go, but it was too late. Jen and Malcolm were already on their way. Besides, said another voice, It’s only a bar, not an active war zone. You’re going to be fine.
Still, spending a Friday night—Halloween night, of all things—in the middle of a rowdy, drunken crowd was the opposite of Kelsin’s ideal evening. He was too self-conscious for flirting, too lightweight for shots, and too broke to pay for the drinks that tasted good. Then there was the simple truth that he’d rather chew glass than interact with strangers.
He checked his phone again, then gave his reflection another glance in the mirror. His hair was uncooperative as usual, and his choice of a denim jacket and black jeans was feeling worse and worse by the second.
Style aside, he knew his ivory hair and paper-white skin would have him glowing like a ghost in the darkness. His eyes were an unusual pinkish-purple, and certain angles of light let the blood vessels of his irises show, giving them an alien red hue.
His face stared back at him in low resolution, and as he stepped back from the mirror, the acuity dropped further. This was the other effect of his condition—uncorrectable low vision. He could see well enough to recognize his friends by shapes and colors, but he had to lean in close for anything more. Then there was the light sensitivity, which left him battling constantly to see through glare.
Kelsin’s heart was skipping beats. The bar would be dimly lit with students packed in like sardines. If he lost track of Jen and Malcolm, he was done for. Lost to the ether. All he’d be able to do was hope for them to spot the shining beacon of his hair and find him before he wasted away.
When the text came that Jen was parked outside, it was almost a relief. He couldn’t stand to keep thinking of all the things that could go wrong, all the ways he could embarrass himself over the course of one night. If he had even five more minutes alone, he ran the serious risk of giving up and telling them he couldn’t do it.
The car ride was less than ideal. Downtown was packed, and Jen kept slamming on the brakes to avoid hitting pedestrians.
“Can we slow down, please?” Kelsin was braced against his seat, head at a tilt so he could peer through the front windshield from behind Malcolm’s headrest. Not that it was much help—the streetlights were halos of color, the cars and pedestrians simple shapes. “You’re going to kill someone.”
“You need to relax,” Malcolm laughed. “We're literally fine.”
They came to another hard stop that made the entire car lurch. Kelsin took a deep breath. “I swear to God, the back wheels left the ground just now.”
“The sooner we get there, the better chance we have of getting a table!” Jen said, palm hovering over the horn. “For God’s sake, these people can wait five more seconds to cross the street.”
Once they finally found a parking space and got past the bouncer, Kelsin hadn’t even stuffed his ID back into his pocket before his worst nightmare was realized: the place was more of a club than a bar, and it was packed. The overhead lights were off, the main room lit only by pumpkin string lights and the disorienting strobe of the dance floor.
“Well, we did it,” Jen smiled as they stepped inside. “We actually got you out on the weekend, Kels! Who would’ve thought we had it in us?”
He gave a forced smile, hoping his face wasn’t red. “Yeah, yeah. I get it. I’m boring.” And it was true: he’d have much rather been on the couch in his apartment watching terrible horror movies. Maybe with his roommate Nona, who never pushed him to do social things like this. But even Nona was out at some party or other tonight. He’d already turned down the invitation to join her weeks ago.
Malcolm clapped him on the back. “Nah, not boring. We just gotta get some drinks in you! First round of shots is on me!” With the way his words slurred together, there was no doubt he had pregamed.
They dragged Kelsin to the bar without giving him a chance to protest, and before he knew it, they were all hunched around a two-seater table that still had someone’s half-eaten fry basket and a clump of used napkins in the center. In each of their hands was a shot of the well vodka.
Kelsin’s stomach lurched as he gave it a sniff. “Ough. I hate shots.”
Jen just laughed, and with the way her body rocked unsteadily, he began to wonder if she’d pregamed too. But she drove them here, so—
“Tonight, we party,” Malcolm said, raising his shot in toast. “And tonight, Kelsin learns to love the bar crawl life. We are finding him a hookup, one way or another.”
Kelsin lowered his glass. “What?”
Jen and Malcolm only cheered, downing their glasses. There was a heavy feeling settling in Kelsin’s gut, but he plugged his nose and followed suit.
He didn’t swallow it all in one go, and then it seemed to linger in his throat, burning the whole way down. He pulled a sharp breath in through his teeth, pushing through the pain of it. Distantly, he realized Malcolm was talking again.
“...Twenty-one, Kels. You need to stop being such a huge virgin about everything. You get me? And that includes sex.”
He rolled his eyes. “How the hell do you know if I’m a virgin or not?”
“Because you don’t strike me as the kind of guy who hit it big in high school. No offense, man.”
Kelsin recoiled. “Oh, offense fully taken. But thanks for trying.”
They chatted at the table for a while, ordered some drinks (Kelsin went for a gin and tonic, one of the least expensive menu items), and got into an almost comfortable flow. But then Malcolm’s friends from the hockey team showed up, and Kelsin felt himself getting pushed out of the conversation. That weight in his gut grew heavier.
Well, they didn’t call alcohol liquid courage for nothing. He screwed his eyes shut and downed his glass. The gin and tonic wasn’t as awful as the straight vodka. Really, it was a decent drink, and in five or six gulps, it was gone.
“Look at you!” Jen laughed. “Time for another, yeah?”
“Sure,” he said, nervous laughter bubbling up as the drink settled in his stomach. “One more, then I’ll take it easy for a bit.”
They approached the bar as soon as they spotted an opening in the crowd of people desperate for drinks. To Kelsin’s horror, Jen ushered him forward as the one to do the talking. He knew she was trying to help him, but God, he hated talking to people, and he didn’t even know what he wanted yet.
To add insult to injury, he tripped over someone’s stupid high-top sneaker and went stumbling into the countertop.
“Careful now.” A hand came to rest on his shoulder, gripping just enough to steady him as he regained his footing. “Are you alright?”
When Kelsin looked up, he saw a tall man with inky black hair. He was pale in the dim lighting, but his eyes were some dark, rich color. “Um…?” He knew this was the time to say something polite, maybe even offer thanks, but the words wouldn’t come to him. He was still mortified from the fall, and his thoughts just stopped cold.
The man smiled in a lopsided way, like a smirk. Devilish—fitting for the occasion. “Are you alright?” he repeated. “Need some water?”
“No, no, I’m not drunk, I just…” Kelsin’s eyes darted anywhere but the man’s face, settling for the countertop. “Tripped over something. Thanks for your concern, though.”
Finally, the bartender shuffled away from the group she was helping and appeared in front of Kelsin and the stranger. “Drinks for you two?”
Kelsin opened his mouth to explain that they weren’t together, but the man was faster. “Two gin and tonics. And a glass of water.” He handed over his credit card, opening a tab.
Kelsin just blinked, looking back at him for an explanation.
He still wore that same smirk. The orange glow of the string lights glinted off his eyes, making them look almost yellow. Kelsin figured his own were giving that pinkish-red shine that he hated. “Feel free to turn me down,” he said, “but you’re welcome to join me.”
“I—uh…” Kelsin glanced back at Jen, looking for direction. “I’m actually with some friends—”
“Oh, go with him!” she said, her face erupting into a huge, devious smile. “You know Malcolm and I will be fine.”
Kelsin looked back at the stranger, who was now resting his forearm on the counter, leaning against it. The bartender set both drinks and the glass of water down in front of him. “You’re welcome to take the drink, whether or not you accept my invitation. The water’s for you, too.”
Shit. Well, he knew he’d never live this one down with Jen and Malcolm if he didn’t at least try. And he knew nothing about sports anyway; Malcolm’s crew was boring him out of his mind.
“Okay,” he said, wondering if he would regret this later. There was a 90% chance it would lead to humiliating himself in public. But maybe there was a 10% chance it would be fun.
Unless that was the alcohol talking.
The man raised an eyebrow. “Okay? As in, you’re interested?”
Already off to a great start. Kelsin nodded his head. “Yeah. Yes, I’m uh, I’m interested.”
The man’s smirk widened a little farther, revealing straight white teeth. His one visible canine was long, too vampire-like to be real. He was definitely into the Halloween spirit.
He picked up both of their drinks, then ushered for Kelsin to take the water. When he did, the man led him away from the bar, toward a table far from the dance floor.
Kelsin gave one last glance in Jen’s direction, and she flashed him a cheeky thumbs-up before moving to the counter for her own drink.
He was taken to a secluded corner that was nearly untouched by the bar’s dramatic orange and purple glow. It was dark, and the eternal static in Kelsin’s vision was not helping him at all.
“Sorry, I’m, uh, I have pretty bad eyesight,” he said, finding the table with one hand before setting down the glass of water. He could still see the brightness of the man’s skin, though, and the glint of his teeth. His inky hair and dark clothes were almost one with the surrounding darkness.
Suddenly, there were long fingers curling over his hand, and the man guided him to sit down. “No worries,” he said, sitting down in the opposite chair.
Kelsin hoped the darkness was enough to hide the blush creeping over his cheeks. “What’s, uh, what’s your name?”
“Esper,” the man said. In his low, almost breathy voice, it sounded beautiful. “And you?”
“Kelsin.”
“Hmm. Kelsin.” The man said it slowly, as if testing the word to his lips. “I’ve never heard that name.”
“I could say the same for yours.” He took a sip of his water. “Esper. Where is that from?”
The man raised his gin and tonic to his lips. “It’s a very old name. What about yours?”
Very old wasn’t really an answer to his question. Kelsin raised an eyebrow. Maybe Esper was embarrassed of his name’s origin.
Kelsin certainly wasn’t a fan of his. He smoothed the condensation from his glass with his thumb. “Well… It’s stupid, but my parents always wanted a daughter named Kelsey. The thing is, it took them years to finally conceive. When I was born, they decided not to bother trying for more. They named me Kelsin to make up for not being able to use the name on a girl.”
Esper was silent for a long moment. Kelsin couldn’t see his expression well, but he could at least make out the way the man’s eyes reflected a twinkle of light. He caught the tilt of Esper’s head as he rested his chin in one palm. “I don’t think that’s stupid at all. It’s rather tragic, really. Do you ever feel a sense of longing when you hear your name? Do you suppose your parents ever wished you were a girl?”
Kelsin leaned back, surprised by the intensity of the question. “Um… I have thought about it. But they’re good parents. If they thought so, they’d never tell me. And I think they’re proud of me, regardless.”
“Well. That’s good to hear.” The man pushed the second gin and tonic forward, ushering for him to drink it.
Kelsin looked down, surprised to find that he’d already finished his water. He took the second glass slowly and gave it a tentative sip. “But I’m sure you’re not here to ask about my family. Are you a student?”
“No. Just in town for a short while. You are, I presume?”
Kelsin nodded as his stomach sank. If this man wasn’t a resident, he was only looking for a hookup. Kelsin wasn’t sure how he’d deal with that when the proposition inevitably came, unless the man decided that he didn’t like Kelsin enough to take him home. Either possibility drew the knot of anxiety in his gut a little tighter.
“Kelsin…?”
“Oh, uh, yes. I’m a student. English literature.” He sipped his drink faster now, wondering if he should just give up and start planning an excuse to rejoin his friends. “I know it won’t make me any money, but I like it a lot. Do you have a degree?”
“No,” Esper said. “But I too like literature.” He took a long sip from his gin and tonic, then set it down with an audible clink. When he leaned forward, he lowered his voice, beginning to recite a poem:
“Blest as the immortal gods is he, on whom each day thy glances shine; who hears thy voice of melody, and meets thy smile so all divine.”
Kelsin went still. Oh. No way. This was one of his favorites.
Esper continued: “Oh, when I list thine accents low, how thrills my breast with tender pain. Fire seems through every vein to glow, and strange confusion whelms my brain.”
Something flared to life in Kelsin upon hearing those words. He’d never told anyone it was his favorite poem. He’d kept it an intimate secret: a Sapphic fragment, originally Greek but translated time and time again in different iterations. To top it all off, this was his favorite version. He could picture himself as a teenager, tucked under blankets, reading it to himself on his phone while smitten over a boy at school. The poem had been a confidante to him: a spark of hope. A thing to be whispered only.
Before he knew it, Kelsin was opening his mouth, continuing the poem: “My sight grows dim beneath the glance, whose ardent rays I may not meet, while swift and wild my pulses dance, then cease all suddenly to beat.”
Esper gave him the most cunning smile yet. His eyes were bright, his sharp teeth glorious. As he placed a hand over Kelsin’s, his voice deepened, sensual and slow: “And I am motionless and pale, and silent as an unstrung lyre; and feel, while thus each sense doth fail, doomed in thy presence… to expire.”
There was a moment of charged silence before Kelsin found it within himself to speak. All he could think to say was the truth: “I love that poem.”
“I hoped you would,” Esper said, his face even closer than before. Kelsin felt a strange dizziness as he tried to remember when Esper had moved closer—when he’d pulled his chair to the other side of the table. “Now, sweet Kelsin… Have you ever been kissed?”
Blood rushed in his ears. Oh my god, he thought. Is this really happening to me?
When he didn’t answer, Esper gave up on the wait. He pushed forward, connecting their lips, and oh God, it was like a dream. Kelsin scrambled for something to do with his free hand before it found purchase on Esper’s shoulder. The man was like a marble statue under his trembling fingers. He tasted like ginger and lime, but smelled faintly of smoke and metal.
Esper took him by the waist with both hands, steadying him, as his tongue pushed forward into Kelsin’s mouth.
Kelsin hardly recognized himself as he parted his lips to let Esper inside. Alcohol swam through his head as the fluttering beat of his heart gave way to a stream of desire. It was embarrassing how all it took was a love poem to undo him, but Sappho 31—it was Sappho 31. He could almost cry.
“And just like that…” Esper whispered as he pulled back, pressing his forehead to Kelsin’s, “I’ve broken through to the human within. What a gift poetry is.” One of his hands danced featherlight up Kelsin’s side. “Tell me, stranger who loves Sappho and her world of forbidden desire. Won’t you be mine tonight?”
Kelsin shivered. Those words alone were as intoxicating as the gin in his veins. He knew, without a doubt, he’d never meet someone like this again.
“Yes,” he whispered back.
The shuffling din of the crowd rolled by in Kelsin’s peripheral vision. All he could focus on was the hand in his, leading him toward the door. He glanced toward his friends as they passed, but none of them were looking his way. They all huddled around Malcolm, who seemed caught up in one of his dramatic stories.
They’d be so happy for him, he knew.
Time lolled by as they walked, silent, and at some point, Kelsin found himself being led up a set of stairs to a small apartment above one of the stores downtown. He couldn’t quite place where they were with the way the world danced awkwardly around him, but he was pretty sure they’d gone in through an alleyway.
Once Esper shut the door, there wasn’t enough time for Kelsin to look around before the man’s body was on his, pinning him to the wall, lips and sharp teeth pressing into his mouth. He accepted it--let his heart thunder in his chest, let his thoughts slip and his mind become pliable. He was already here, and he had no intention of ruining the night by backing out.
Esper pulled him off the wall and guided him across the floor as they kissed—to the bed, presumably, or at least the couch.
But no, Kelsin was instead lowered to the floor, his shoulder blades contacting hardwood. His fingers traced the edges of a panel and came back to him wet. Sticky.
“What is—?”
“Shh.” Esper smiled, holding Kelsin’s face in his hands, not allowing him to look away. Kelsin’s entire body was taut as a harp string beneath him, begging to be plucked. They hadn’t even turned on the lights, and in the darkness, Esper’s pallid skin glowed stark white. He could only imagine what his own looked like.
“You’re going to be perfect,” said the man, his thumb tracing Kelsin’s kiss-swollen bottom lip. “You’re going to be gorgeous, and mine. All mine.” He leaned down, pressing a kiss to Kelsin’s neck.
Kelsin was sure he felt his own pulse drumming as his carotid artery was scraped by white fangs, which were oddly sharp for costume plastic. Esper left one hand on his face, keeping his head still.
Then there was a sound like a blade sliding through something wet, and a second later, agony.
Kelsin gasped, his eyes flying wide open as the pain sobered him. Suddenly, the room lit up with a red glow, symbols reflecting off the ceiling from below.
He cried out as Esper pulled back. The man’s teeth were red, a drop of blood spilling down his chin, his pupils blown wide with delight. Kelsin thrashed in his grip, wrenching his head free, and saw what looked to be the sharp points of a sigil painted on the floor. The same could be said of his other side. If they came together in the middle, under his back, then they formed a massive, glowing star.
The room, he also realized, was empty of furniture. No one could have been living here.
“Oh, dear, you’re shaking.”
Kelsin tried to push himself up, but Esper pinned him down by the wrists, his knees planted hard on either side of Kelsin’s waist.
“It’s okay. I’m going to make you beautiful.”
He leaned down again, and Kelsin screamed even before the teeth sunk into his neck for the second time. There was the sharp sting of his skin being pierced, but also a sensation cold as ice, traveling through his body from the point of contact. As the seconds went on, he heard Esper swallowing, gulping mouthfuls of his blood. Some spilled down to the dip of Kelsin’s collarbone, staining his jacket, all while that ice traveled to his heart and out toward every remaining inch of his body.
He continued to scream for a while, but the cold simmered to a dull ache before long, and his mind filled with static. Each of his limbs seemed to weigh a thousand pounds.
I’m dying, he realized.
Kelsin mustered the last of his strength to place a hand on Esper’s back. Once again, he was solid as a marble statue. Kelsin’s fingers slid up to his neck, then to the ends of his hair. It was soft as silk, probably. Hard to tell, the way his hands were going numb.
As was everything else. And the red glow of the surrounding sigil seemed to be fading from the ceiling—or maybe he was closing his eyes.
And I am motionless and pale, and silent as an unstrung lyre.
Moving his fingers was a monumental task, but he was determined. They wove slowly through Esper’s hair. A final faux act of passion. Kelsin could hardly believe it—this was his final moment: lying in the dark beneath a beautiful, dangerous man, and no one even knew where he was.
And feel, while thus each sense doth fail, doomed in thy presence... to expire.
---
If you got all the way down here, thanks so much for checking this out!
Find out more about the book on my website!
#the house of honey and venom#chapter 1#hohv chapter 1#writers on tumblr#fiction#my writing#supernatural romance#paranormal romance#romance#writerblr
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“Preener” Todolf. Mark!Tod and Oliver!Rudolf.
Massive consent issues, mostly arising from the fact that Tod doesn't really care about his partner's consent and is more than a little mind-controlly with Rudolf. Seriously. You have been warned.
SERIOUSLY!!!!!!! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.
Rudolf wasn’t sure how long he’d been like this, sitting at Tod’s feet. The slow, repetitive movements of his master’s hand through his hair were utter perfection, and he had to concentrate to keep himself from purring - so that he didn’t disturb his master.
The silky material of Tod’s garb was gentle and soft against Rudolf’s cheek. He let his eyes flutter shut for a moment before returning them to the half-lidded state they had been in for some time. He hadn’t really bothered to keep track at all, simply basking in his master’s presence.
And there was more to it than just his head on Tod’s knee and Tod’s hand in his hair - even since Tod had taken Rudolf into his flock Rudolf could feel Tod’s power, Tod’s grace, Tod’s very presence in his mind.
The hand shifts from his hair to caress his cheek, and then to cup his chin, directing his gaze up to his master’s. Rudolf wouldn’t dream of looking Tod in the eye without direction, but it’s so easy to become lost in Tod’s infinite black eyes, strewn with beautiful stars.
“Master.” His own voice is barely more than a whisper.
“My angel.” The faint tap to Rudolf’s chin is a command, and the former prince rises, his eyes flickering down to the floor once more, to the great soft cushion that he had been seated on.
Tod rises a moment later, tracing Rudolf’s cheek once, then again.
“Attend me.”
He doesn’t need to say more - in truth he could have said nothing at all and Rudolf would have known, would have felt his master’s will. The former prince eases Tod’s jacket off first, folding it and setting it aside, before moving on to the shirt with its little buttons. It should be an odd task to him - dressing and undressing his master. Rudolf had been the one dressed and undressed in life. But now? It felt so natural.
He was meant to obey Tod’s will, but this was more natural even than that. The little buttons give in to Rudolf’s clever fingers, one after the other, and soon enough he is easing the shirt off, folding it and placing it with the jacket.
Tod’s wings came into being a moment later - Rudolf could feel the way the air shifted. He kept his eyes trained carefully downwards, even though he so wanted to look up at Tod, at his master. Tod had permitted Rudolf to gaze upon his beautiful wings before, but it wouldn’t be right to look without permission.
There is a faint glimmer of amusement before Tod speaks. “Look at me.”
And Rudolf’s eyes flicker up. Tod is beautiful in a way no one else is, in a way no one else can be. His blonde hair frames his face like a divine halo, and the strength in him is undeniable. And his wings - his wings are so magnificent, vast in a way that no angel’s wings can ever be.
“Master.” It’s little more than a whisper, but so worshipful. Tod gently strokes Rudolf’s cheek for a long moment, and Rudolf loses himself once more in Tod’s eyes, but his master doesn’t permit it for long, breaking their gaze, pressing a gentle kiss to Rudolf’s forehead.
Tod’s fingers slid over the material of Rudolf’s shirt. “Off.”
Rudolf’s fingers went to the buttons of his shirt, easing the open one by one under Tod’s observant gaze before letting the shirt slip from his shoulders, gathering it and placing it away.
His master’s hands are on his back before he can turn back to Tod, tracing the smooth skin there. Rudolf almost shutters at the sensation - he’s more sensitive now, especially to Tod’s touch, and especially there. But he waits for Tod’s command.
“Wings.” The word is breathed into his ear. Rudolf’s wings slide into being a moment later - not the infinite black of Tod’s wings, but an iridescent one - black flowing into green or blue with the light.
His master’s hand brushes over the feathers even as he presses a kiss to the side of Rudolf’s neck, and he can’t help but to shiver at the touch, but to tremble at the sensation in his wing.
“Turn.” Rudolf obeys, careful not to hit Tod with his wings. His master’s hands go to the former prince’s hips, stroking the skin there ever so gently. Rudolf’s wings twitch and he can’t help it. But he can feel Tod’s amusement and the faint twinge of pleasure - this is what Tod desires. And Rudolf is glad, to have pleased his master.
He would have felt bare, before. The faint echoes of scoldings at his utter lack of physique still remain, but they are fading little by little. Rudolf doesn’t know who scolded him, once upon a time. But it wasn’t his master. And so it doesn’t matter. His master is pleased enough with Rudolf’s form, with his wings.
He’s not much to look at, compared to Tod. But no one is.
His master’s gentle fingers wander a few moments longer before a hand slides around to Rudolf’s back, taking its place just between his wings, caressing the sensitive skin there before pressing gently but firmly. A guide.
Rudolf follows Tod’s lead, and the pair make their way to a daybed, laden with soft cushions.
“You’ve been taught how to preen, yes?” Tod’s fingers wander just a little, caressing the tiny feathers at the base of Rudolf’s wings.
“Yes, Master.” The others have taught him. So he can tend his own wings. So he can tend theirs.
Tod flows onto the daybed like a great cat, laying on his stomach, his magnificent wings outstretched to each side, spilling over the edge of the bed. “Attend me.”
His master’s meaning is clear, but still Rudolf hesitates a moment before slowly sliding onto the bed, careful of Tod’s feathers, and moving to straddle him, knees just at Tod’s waist, before gingerly lowering himself into the position he’d been taught.
He’d never imagined that he’d be granted this honor. The others only ever whispered of it - of preening their master’s wings. Even just to sit in the manner he must is overwhelming at first. Rudolf can feel Tod’s strength beneath him, his power. It’s nothing compared to the all-encompassing nature of Tod’s thoughts, of his will as it directs Rudolf.
Ever so slowly, the former prince gets to work. Their feathers are durable, but there are always a few growing back in. Tod has more simply by virtue of the size of his enormous wings. Finding the pin feathers is easy enough, and Rudolf rolls the pale ones in his fingers.
The others have taught him well, he thinks, as Tod’s satisfaction flows all around him, as his own wings twitch at the approval of his master. Touching Tod’s wings isn’t something he had so much as hoped to do, but his master permitted it, letting Rudolf be the one to card his hands through his magnificent wings. And it was not like Tod lacked for angels.
Another presence appears, but Rudolf pays it no mind - his task is to tend Tod’s wings, and it is far more important than any other could be. The other angel will understand.
He doesn’t care about the words - preening Tod’s feathers does not necessitate listening to anyone other than his master - but the shrill and accusatory tone is grating on his ears, and Rudolf can’t help but to flinch. He hates himself for it - his master would have felt his hesitation, and would know either from Rudolf’s thoughts or his actions. And Rudolf doesn’t want to hesitate. He only wants to please his master.
Tod doesn’t speak either to the presence or to Rudolf, but his annoyance is mounting, and Rudolf trembles even when Tod’s will softens around him, assuring him. Caressing him.
The shrill voice comes again, and Rudolf shrinks away even as he tries to continue his task. He wishes he could hide behind Tod, to be protected under his great wings.
Tod does respond, and his voice soothes the restless former prince. He’s angry, not just annoyed anymore. But not at Rudolf. And the former prince knows it, but he can still feel Tod’s displeasure, and he hates it. He hates that he isn’t able to please Tod properly.
Tod shifts beneath him, turning toward the presence, and Rudolf yields to his master’s will, moving to Tod can rise, then kneeling beside the day bed, eyes downcast.
He wants to sit there peacefully, waiting as he should for Tod. But the shrill tones and Tod’s mounting displeasure are too much, and his hands come to his face trying to hide himself from the world. The whimper is soft, but Tod will have heard it.
And his master’s voice does stop, moving once more. Tod’s hand comes to rest in Rudolf’s hair even as Tod’s wing wrapped around him, shielding him in the comforting darkness.
But even as the darkness brings comfort, Tod’s ire continues to mount, and Rudolf trembles more, curling in on himself.
Tod’s hand isn’t gentle when it contorts, gripping Rudolf’s hair and hauling him to his feet. And Rudolf whines at the pain - he can’t help himself even if he doesn’t want to. He only wants to please his master, and tears prick at the corners of his eyes - not so much for the pain, but for the fact that Tod is displeased. He’s failed.
And the tears only come more even as Tod shoves Rudolf onto the day bed, face down. It’s soft and comfortable, but Rudolf is lost in his failure. His master is above him a moment later, pinning him completely to the bed. Rudolf can’t move - Tod’s limbs are heavy on his own, and Rudolf wouldn’t have even a hope of being able to struggle against Tod’s enormous wings.
He whines helplessly. He only wants to please his master. But there is naught in his mind besides his master’s ire, his displeasure. And finally, Rudolf looks. There is a woman, held between two angels. The shrill voice is hers.
But Rudolf is broken from his thoughts by Tod’s teeth, vicious and sharp in his neck. He doesn’t want to fight - if this is what Tod wills, then he will gladly endure it for his master. But his face contorts with pain and his wings struggle helplessly against Tod’s own. And he hates the way his body fights - he doesn’t want to fight, all he wants is to please his master.
But the teeth in his neck are nothing compared to being taken. Tod isn’t gentle with him, and Rudolf is well and truly sobbing, trying to hide his face, even as Tod adjusts him, forcing him to look at the woman between the two angels. She’s saying something, but Rudolf is too lost in his own thoughts.
He’s displeased his master, surely. He doesn’t know how, but he must have displeased him to deserve this. And it is punishment so Rudolf doesn’t want to beg - he will bear it for Tod - it is what his master wills. But it is too much, and incoherent pleas begin to fall from his lips. It hurts so much, and Tod’s fury and ire all around him, in his mind, is far worse.
The angels have no need for the pleasures of the flesh, and Rudolf has yet to meet one that finds any need to engage in carnal acts. Kisses are enough. There is no need to go further. But if Tod deems it otherwise then he must be correct, and Rudolf deserves this lesson, this torment, this discipline.
Tod is already gone, no longer above him, when Rudolf’s mind settles back into itself, having finally fallen from the furious wrathful place that was the anger in Tod’s thoughts, in his will.
His body hurts, every bit of it - from the tension, from the fact that he wasn’t able to give Tod whatever he wished. From the fact that he fought, that his body didn’t obey. His master’s ire has subsided, and Rudolf is surprised to sense him sitting once more on the day bed. Tod’s hand comes to his hair, cards through it, and Rudolf flinches. He hates himself for that flinch more than anything. And he wishes Tod would strike him, discipline him.
It’s a show of disobedience, but Tod’s hand only sinks deeper into his hair and adjusts Rudolf’s head, forcing him to look up at his master.
There are no words that go between them - Rudolf does not have permission to speak and Tod doesn’t need to speak. But the former prince understands. He is Tod’s, and Tod needed to show that, even in the barbaric ways of mortals. His youth was to blame for the reactions of his body. Rudolf himself hadn’t disappointed Tod. If anything he has pleased him.
And Rudolf treasures that knowledge, that Tod is pleased with him, by him. Maybe he’s not such a failure after all. He’s still hurting when Tod departs, but he drags himself after his master. The cushion is still at Tod’s feet, and Rudolf is all too happy to fall at his master’s feet, to return his head to his master’s knee, to bask in his presence once more.
“Master.” A prayer.
And it’s answered by a gentle hand in his hair. Rudolf lets his eyes flutter to half-lidded, drifting in softness, ensconced in Tod’s will.
#dead dove#do not eat#todolf#my fic#messed up#really messed up#warnings out the wazoo#Tod is his own warning#poor Rudolf#click read more at your own peril
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Nightshade Chapter 7 Sneak Peeks!
Sorry this has taken so long! Last week was swamped and this week started off with a dentist appointment and my little down getting just absolutely slammed with snow! But here's the sneak peeks!
Since this one was a tie I decided to cut both peeks in half and give y'all a little bit of both! Enjoy!
👬
He squeezed past the busty doe-eyed girl as she smiled, batting her eyelashes at him, and made his way upstairs to change. When he opened his locker to find the familiar sleek black leather of his jacket Jake smiled. How the hell did she even get this up here? Her perfume was all of it, covering up the musk he'd been so used to the old thing holding. God, he wanted to hold it to his nose and burn that smell into his sinuses.
After he changed the doorway filled with the familiar copper-haired brute and the thinner bald man. Patrick and Peter looked around for a minute before they looked at each other. "You wanna start or should I?
Peter scoffed, "I'm the oldest, I'll start."
"There a problem?" Jake asked calmly. If they'd wanted to kick his ass Patrick would have done it by now.
"Not yet," Patrick replied, keeping his arm out as Peter took a step forward.
"I've heard a lot about you," the brother said with a grin. "Oz and Pat have been pretty good at keeping me in the loop when it comes to you and my little sister."
Jake shook his head, leaning back against his locker. "There's not much to tell. We're friends."
Patrick rolled his eyes, mumbling something in a different language that made Peter chuckle. "Friends is hardly the word I'd use to describe you two. But, I don't really care what you call it so long as one thing stays the same. You respect her."
"God knows she's had enough of dumb little pretty boys taking advantage of her kindness," Patrick added, giving him a stern look, not unlike the ones he'd been giving him from the start.
"Listen, Jake," Peter continued. "I know my sister. I know she comes off as this strong, indestructible force of nature that can kick anyone's ass and that doesn't feel a damn thing." He winced as he shifted, balancing himself on Patrick's waiting arm. "Lena is strong… One of the strongest people I know, but she's still human. It still hurts when people she cares about let her down."
"And you think she cares about me?" He asked, trying to sound amused to cover up the way he genuinely wanted to know.
Patrick nodded, quietly making sure Peter wouldn't fall. "She doesn't bring just anyone to the old place and she's brought you more than enough times. Even talked about pops."
"She also shared Cape Cod with you." Peter nodded. "Yeah, I know about that."
💄
Jake felt light, almost weightless as he lay in the warm bed basking in the rays of sunlight. The air around him was laced with the sweet smell of perfume, cherry with hints of rose and light woodsy leather. It was intoxicating and the more he breathed it in the more he found himself craving the smell. A weight was comfortably settled onto his chest as his fingers ran through silky strands of hair. His blunt nails scratched her head drawing out soft noises of contentment. He chuckled, an odd sense of joy rushing through his veins.
“What’s funny?” She asked, lifting her head off his chest.
Opening his eyes he smiled up at the sunlit halo of red hair and sparkling green eyes that stared down at him. “Nothing at all.”
Her eyebrows lifted as amusement made her face even more beautiful. “Nothing at all? Why do I not believe you?”
“Calling me a liar?” He teased, his hands running along her smooth skin, tracing the curved shape of her snake tattoo up her spine. “In my own bed, that’s rather inconsiderate.”
“You weren’t complaining earlier,” she teased back leaning into him, her fingers tracing his lips. Jake watched her face slowly soften, looking at him like he was everything to her. “You never thought you’d get this attached, did you?”
Cold weight started creeping back into his body as his mind recognized the dream. He still clung to her, clung to her soft skin beneath his fingers, the loving gaze she gave him, the smell of her perfume. Jake still closed his eyes when she leaned in to kiss him and he still hesitated to pull away even though he couldn’t even feel her lips against his.
When he opened his eyes again she was gone and he was alone. He set his hand against his chest, taking in deep breaths to try and escape the sudden breathlessness. Rolling onto his side he looked at the empty space beside him, quietly recalling the sight of her bare back and that damn tattoo that he now knew painted her skin. Jake forced himself up and followed his shitty routine to get himself ready for another long night of service. It was starting to get ridiculous the never-changing nature of bartending at 22West.
He found himself thinking about what would have happened if he had actually gone through with his plans with Scott. Would he have his own restaurant? A bar that wasn’t constantly surrounded by rich assholes that had more money than god and were still stingy with their tips? Would he get to wear what he wanted and throw people out when they’d clearly had enough? No. He reminded himself. It was a dumb idea, rushed and poorly thought out. It would have failed before it even started. Simone was right… All that was just a pipedream meant to help keep him from going insane with the mundane normalcy of life.
#fic: nightshade#sweetbitter jake#sweetbitter jake x oc#jake x lena#jake sweetbitter#sweet bitter#sweetbitter#sneak peek#big brothers#is that a new girl?#👀👀👀#Jake's having sweet dreams of our favorite red head???#🤭
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6x1 valkyrie
It has been a while since I liveblogged. I want to finish watching castle before summer is over.
She got a job ok, they got engaged ok.
Lol love the yes/no/yes/no "most serious thing I've ever done"
RC: You do know how this works, right? his twelve hundred names lol (& yeah that is HUGE gem)
Ah NOW it has been two months no longer sayong "nypd" must have been a change.
I remember when I first saw this I thought "oh it must be this gif with the sexy bra" but it wasn't. & then she got hit so hard she fell back like that?
"or worse: me"
Ew she doesn't have her plans anymore?
I love the music dskljfsdlkfj "he's best with rhetorical questions"
Alexis is pretty. Oh yeah. Pi. I love him so much. Spelling is a construct anyway bro. RC: Uh … make sure you put some blankets out on the couch for Pi if he’s staying? (his meaning is not subtle) Want him to be comfortable. (his phone rings) And visible. I mean like yeah boy sleeps on the couch.
Meh won't clip
Poor them, not seeing each other.
Lol what are you smiling about to the castle cutout.
Is that still her mom's ring? How did Castle get here? You want me to leave? Immediately *starts kissing him*
Castle mr nosey man.
Wow they're good! she looks a lot like castle tbh CASTLE NO SHE'S LITERALLY NOT EVEN IN THE CAR YET YOU CAN CATCH HER
the baby sdkfljslkdjklj (clipping) Halo nights, new trivi fact "well since you offered"
could clip the part where ryan tosses the baby doll on esposito Yay Tory Ellis "isn't that beckett's backyard?" jf ey tunnel shdgy cal.l d*lat.er when i ^bet1er
*castle is already at the golf course*
"it better be on a book jacket" unless he is at home when you drop beckett off bro
"I didn't think I'd get caught"
Yes the old haunt! Mccord is also getting the same info I'm sure.
Oh no phtos of Castle.
Oh no r they tattling on becks?
Picked up a guy, talked in my sleep, let out info about Scoffield. What if you get the license plate when he opened his trunk? Really you have a match off of THAT?
Infiltration? Yeah this fellow def going into a building.
Her voice cracked hella when she said "clear" Also wow these folks are hot in their vests. Her phone is on ring mode? She just went into a building with guns, what if she got in trouble? What if they needed to be quiet?
"the kind that makes me feel all" *ooh*
RC: I have salmon that needs to be refrigerated He's so right RC: that's a read THAT'S A RED!
My man has been shot or smth.. At least castle grabbed the gun. "10 & 2, 10 & 2" XD
Castle getting checked for a concussion lmao *waves at her*
Castle say "I had salmon to refrigerate-- would I have bought that if I was planning on getting abducted?"
"Given your fiance's history.." yk what so valid bestie Her little "I'm sorry" through the screen.
Glad they are doing 70% match not more bc yeah, people can change what they look like.
KB: Maybe it’ll be better. This way when we come home at the end of each day we’ll have something to talk about like normal couples. RC: Only your day will be classified. Like that one physicist who insisted that his wife get classification access so that he could talk to her abou this work day & rubber duck to her. At least castle has the money to fly around visiting his wife all the time.
Pi my beloved. Isn't fruitarian like "I don't eat fruit unless it has fallen from the tree. Those carrots were brutally murdered."
My man lives in amsterdam? Pi has his sixth sense I love pi sm. "you're absolutely right" *walks away*
RmC: You want to talk about it? KB: No RmC: Good
of course she wasn't taking a direct route
Aww castle talking to rysposito about it
KR: You know, I don’t think Jenny and I have been apart for more than two days since we met. It’s gotta be rough. (HOLY CRAP WAIT WHAT?) RC: I just feel like we’re so out of sync I don’t know how to get back. I guess I was just … trying to make it feel like us again. JE: Yeah, by playing me and Ryan for chumps. (KR nods, but it’s not in anger) You should have known that we were going to figure out this case was real. RC: Well, you’ll be happy to know for my sins I was abducted by a maniac at gunpoint and nearly killed. But at least I didn’t get Beckett fired. [They’re both surprised.] JE: Whoa, whoa, abducted? (RC pauses) By who? RC: realizes he might have said too much and tries to evade. RC: Look guys, I really shouldn’t be talking about this. [They don’t let him off so easily.] KR: C’mon, Castle. It’s us. JE: And thanks to you, we’re already involved. KR: nods. RC: Okay, but this goes no further, all right? (at KR’S nod) So I’m walking down the street and this guy that they’re looking for grabs me, shoves me into a car, starts talking crazy, starts asking me all these questions. JE: What kind of questions? RC: Something about Valkyrie, how much the feds knew, and then I thought he was going to pass out, because he was talking about going off to dream world. (JE freezes & looks off with his eyes) But he didn’t pass out. He dropped dead. JE: Uh … this guy? Was he, uh, was he military?
RC: Why? Is Valkyrie a military term? JE: I don’t know about Valkyrie, but Dream World? It’s a highly classified special operations base in the Gulf. It’s a ghost base. The government’s never confirmed its existence, but I – I met a guy who knew a guy who was stationed there. (everyone knows someone who knows someone) RC: (intrigued) Where is it? JE: It’s – it’s a ghost base, Castle. You think it’s going to say where it is? KR and RC share a look, then look to JE. They both shake their head. JE: No. But I will tell you this, if Beckett’s case has anything to do with this base, well, then she’s into something way bigger than she realizes. (won't clip, not even the double shale heads of rystle)
Oh no they lost her, beckett's instincts screwed them up. Or not nvm. If you've never seen it then why were you running away with evasion tactics? Is this the same interrogation room as the precinct & they just dolled it up differently?
GOLF COURSE I expected rachel mccord to slam the table & yell "he's dead" to scare this jeanette girl into talking. KB: Well, people do crazy things when they’re in love. RmC: I've noticed
Well you have the encryption system so you don't need to find the Bad Guy. Stop looking for the thing they REALLY stole. Ah! Genetics lab, classified floor, etc. lmao you would SO get results for dreamworld, even if it is all BS.
Castle chill & cut pi some slack. But also alexis is so pretty really really pretty. RC: how would they know? MR: Richard, these federal agents are here for you...
Ah yes, the military Why would Jack Bronson die if they were trying to set him up? How badly was he exposed? A few days & castle is still mostly fine? ngl I expected it to be more like "a few months before it ruins your systems, but we have a few days to flush it from your system so that you can go back to living your normal life" or smth
Ok I got a few clips, I'm happy.
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