#spent longer than necessary drawing this :p

[fistfuloflightning]

a kinslayer and a traitor, in good company

#maedhros #maeglin #the silmarillion #my art #tolkien art #unapologetic maeglin apologist #maedhros x maeglin #maemae #I feel like these two have the most in common w each other #despite never having met #which is a shame #their particular experiences in angband would have helped them understand and help cope with each other’s trauma #and maybe help each other heal #just let them be happy T-T #this is them either after reembodiment or in a happy au #spent longer than necessary drawing this :p

[sink-me-in-your-ocean]

Tinderbox

Dewdrop/Sodo ghoul x demon!fem!reader smut

WC: 5100

A/N: @endhisbloodlineinmyesophagus ty for being my inspiration during these times of turmoil. Also - set in the roaring Twenties… for no reason other than fun.

Content warnings: fingering, p in v sex, biting, rough sex, marking, kn!fe play, kn!fe k!nk, blood play (towards the end) and consumption. 18+ only. Minors DNI.

NSFW below the cut.

The evening sparkled, there was no other way to describe it. Men in suits, women in sequins, feathers, and fringe-trimmed dresses.

You had one last evening to celebrate after gathering necessary intel on the earthly plane for the devious devils down below who employed you. Everything could have been perfect, had it not been for your choice of company and his complete and utter determination to ruin the evening.

You had spent the entire afternoon doing up your hair, placing the curls just so. Your horns were hidden perfectly beneath the human glamour you had chosen. The dress you chose was as low cut as you could get without being confused for a prostitute. You still had to look your part, after all. You shimmered like an effervescent glass of champagne, all golden and gorgeous from head to toe. The color complimented your human-shade skin so nicely. Even the undergarments you chose were golden, the garter belt holding your hosiery up and the unlined bra doing the same to your soft breasts.

Only one problem.

Dewdrop would not stop reaching under the table towards you. He couldn’t stop fidgeting since you left the hotel room, rather. First it was his shoes, dragging up and down your stocking-clad calves to get your attention, then he switched seats at the four-top, so he would be right next to you. Hands, feet, the backs of your knees, everything was on the table apparently. 

His tail snaking its way up the skirt of your dress was the final straw. You were at a nice restaurant trying - failing - to enjoy a nice dinner. Just one teensy weensy thing in your temporary masquerade among the humans. For fucks sake, the place had white linen tablecloths. 

Thankfully you were sitting at a corner table.

“Dew.” You said through a forced smile, “I’m being serious this time.” 

You took a purposeful sip of your white wine, narrowing your eyes over the rim of the glass. The crisp, dry taste of the chilled beverage kept you from completely scowling at him. At least it did until you felt his tail curling up the edge of your dress again.

You scolded him again, “You know you shouldn’t be doing that, ghoul.”

His face was smug, “I can do whatever I want.” 

“Just not whenever you want.” You shot back.

“You can’t deny me.” His gaze was intense, fuck, you wanted to give in to his whims so badly. You couldn’t though, not now. No matter how much you wanted him to bend you over and fuck you on top of this perfectly white cloth-covered table.

“I can, and I am.” Your resolve was firm, but for how much longer it would stay that way, you hadn’t a clue.

The two of you stared intensely at each other, his irises started shifting beneath his glamour, blood-red cutting through. 

“Hah!” You exclaimed, though not loud enough to draw any untoward attention, “Sloppy, as usual, Dew. As soon as you get your mind in the gutter you start slipping.”

“As long as you’re there to catch me.” He grinned devilishly, and you could see his fangs poking through.

“I’ll catch you alright.” You sneered, “Right between my teeth I’ll catch you, honeydew.” You ended the sentence calling him your favorite term of endearment while simultaneously dragging your tongue across the top row of your even teeth. The action pointedly reminded him how your glamour was perfectly intact.

What was meant to douse the flames only added fuel to the fire ghoul. But that was the nature of your, rather explosive, relationship. 

You opened your folding fan, the air in the room suddenly feeling stale and hot. As you fanned yourself his greedy, ghoulish hands made their way back to your thigh under the table. 

You struck his offending hand reflexively before your brain could catch up. Perfectly in time for the runners to bring your appetizers out. 

“Thank you.” You smiled graciously, Dew scowled, staring at the human food in front of you both. “Don’t even start now.” You warned him.

“Fine.” He sighed, looking around before scooping up his food and shoveling it down without tasting it. He sat back in his seat as you brought the first bite to your wine-red lips. “I want to play a game.”

“What did you have in mind?” You said absently, glancing around sharply to make sure no one was watching his abhorrent display of table manners.

“If anyone looks too long at you -”

You interrupted him, “Too broad, be specific.” You had another bite of the tangy appetizer. 

“Fine.” He huffed, looking around the room before a wicked grin crept over his face. “If that waiter comes over here for no reason again, I get to spank you.”

Touché, that was specific enough. “Oh, I see, and if he comes over here with a purpose?”

“Your choice then.”

“Nah, too boring.” He let out an irritated noise, but you ignored him, “How about this, if you get jealous of him flirting with me, I get at least one more orgasm than you.”

“That’s assuming he will flirt with you, which there’s no way he will do that with me here.” He seemed overly confident. “The human men respect each other way more than they respect women.”

The match was set. “Then you shouldn’t be afraid of being jealous.”

“I’m never jealous.”

“We’ll see about that.” A smirk touched your lips before you finished your plate of food.

You enjoy the rest of your meal, each course exciting your taste buds more than the last. Finally, it was time for dessert. Out came the most decadent looking chocolate frosted cake on a silver platter. The waiter, whose name you learned was Liam after you asked and batted your eyelashes, promptly served you a slice of the checkerboard cake. 

You took a huge bite, savoring the sweetness. Vanilla and chocolate, perfect for your indecisive self.

The waiter serves Dewdrop a slice as well before his watchful eyes look at your face again

“Miss, you have some, er, frosting on your cheek.”

“Oh, do I?” You played so innocently. “Be a dear and get it for me, would you?”

“With pleasure.” He plucks a dark napkin from the inside of an otherwise empty wine glass. The man leans in and dabs the cloth on your cheek, the side of his finger brushing your skin excited you. You didn’t break eye contact until you felt the whole table rattle as Dewdrop kicked it.

Moment over.

The waiter straightened and motioned to the bottle of champagne you ordered, averting his eyes from you. He picks up the bottle and begins to tear the gold foil from the top but Dew snatches it out of his hand. His chair makes a scraping squeak as he practically jumps out of it, commanding the room.

You watch wide-eyed as couples conversations at the few surrounding tables begin to die out, their attention turned to the two devils in disguise. Dewdrop removes the fastener with one hand and easily manhandles the bottle with the other. 

Damn those perfect hands of his. 

You thought he meant to pop the cork barehanded but he surprised you, as well as earned a couple light gasps from nearby tables, as he picked up a knife. He ran it along the seam of the champagne bottle and with a swipe of the blade he sliced the bottle open. It let out a loud pop, and the contents inside bubbled but no liquid spilled, rather, combined with the air in a hiss and left it like a smoking gun. 

The scattered applause in the space was no match for Dew’s smirk at you. 

Oh he had you. He had you so well. Who would have thought that sabrage could be so sexy? 

There was no point in flirting with the human anymore, but you did it anyway. You were already traversing a rocky path, but you wanted to set off a few more traps along the way. So you made sure Dew caught you looking the waiter up and down, raking your gaze over him as he handed you the glass of champagne.

The two of you sat in silence while you finished your beverage and cake. Then you reached for your purse, opening it to find the dark lipstick that needed reapplying. 

The waiter came back to your table as you brazenly applied your lipstick in front of the dining room. You did one of your signature moves, sweeping your eyes to look up at him, your lashes batting ever-so-slightly in that way that made mortal men fall to their knees.

“Can I interest you in anything else this evening?” His voice deepened, “Perhaps something off the menu?”

“Oh?” You played up your sweetness to tooth-rotting levels, “What did you have in mind?”

The waiter went to open his mouth and promptly closed it, his expression turning to icy fear. You turned your head to look at Dewdrop just as he hissed at the poor mortal, his eyes glowed red as he purposefully dropped his glamour.

You hit him with your fan again. 

It was well past time to leave. You didn’t want the mortal getting in any real trouble with your fire ghoul, so you collected your wits and coat and left promptly, dragging Dew behind you by his necktie. 

-

You both got in the lift to go up to your shared hotel room. Of course, you had to tell the clerk at the check-in desk that you were “Mr. And Mrs.” since this establishment was more on the high end and yet still cared that a woman couldn’t rent her own room by herself. 

Eye roll.

As soon as the doors closed on the lift, the energy changed. The light bulbs dimmed, the panel on the wall containing the floor numbers blinking and flickering before stabilizing. The liftman blinked and shook his head furiously, not understanding what had happened. But you knew, Dewdrop was absorbing power. But for what, you had not the faintest.

As if to prove a point, he snuck his hand behind you, running up the inside of your thigh closest to him and shocking you with static electricity. You tried not to jump, not to give him the satisfaction, but your body betrayed you. 

He snickered, causing the elevator operator to glance back over his shoulder, prying eyes turning to see what was happening. Dew growled at him, eliciting the same nasty behavior as he had at the dinner table.

You swatted him with your fan in the ribs, only to get no response. He was locked in a death stare with the poor soul. 

There’s only one way to remedy this.

You darted your hand out, nimble fingers digging into Dew’s side to tickle him. He made a high pitched sound that almost made you laugh aloud, turning his red eyes at you. You weren’t intimidated by his glare at all, at least not until the threat spilled like thick poison from between his clenched teeth.

“You’ll pay for that.”

Your stomach squeezed. Dewdrop made more threats than a hellhound has teeth, but this felt like a promise. It was the way he said it that sealed the deal. But you wouldn’t let him win, not yet at least.

“You don’t scare me honeydew.” You let your glamour slip slightly, baring your sharp fangs at him.

The elevator clanged and let out a ding. 

“Uh, e- enjoy your evening.” The liftman tripped over his words and opened the door. He was surely too eager to be rid of the both of you.

You slid the metal key from your tiny purse, unlocking the door. Dew grabbed you and opened the door, slamming it loudly behind you. The hotel room was a coffin now, and you were about to be buried alive. Your only warning was his heavy panting breaths and the tight grip on your arm.

Payback time.

He shoved you into the wall roughly, your shoulders taking the brunt of the impact. Dewdrop grabbed you, his claws creating divots in your glamoured skin, and planted his lips on yours. The kiss you shared was equally matched in ferocity and need, sending tingles to the very tips of your fingers. You felt your lust bubbling to the surface, equivalent only to your dark urge to mark him too.

Your hands went up to his cheeks immediately and from there to tangle in his silken white-blonde hair, not letting him go for a second. You couldn’t, holding him close to you was your greatest desire. His kisses smothered you in warmth and his scent of smoke and ash.

He kissed you fervently and rambled as his lips traveled to your face and neck, his right hand moving to the small of your back, long fingers pulling you flush against him while the other knotted itself in your hair. “I’ve wanted to have you since the second you stepped out in that dress. I know you put it on just to tempt me, to tease me.”

“Dewdrop, listen to yourself, I had to wear something. I can’t just go out in public naked.”

You could tell he was picturing it from the way his breath stalled, his teeth freezing over your quickening pulse. Gripping his tie and unfastening it, you broke him out of his wild imagination, snapping it as you tore it from beneath his shirt and jacket.

“No, no you couldn’t.” He managed breathily.

Your breath was just as tremulous, “Tell me why, my ghoul.” Your fingers tugged on the lapels of his jacket, pulling him back in. You were already lust-drunk from just kissing him, but you needed more. 

“Because you’re mine.” His gruff voice, the rushed kisses, and the scrapes of his fangs at your throat felt like a drug being injected directly into your bloodstream, and you felt your rational thoughts slipping away into nothingness. All that was left was him. Him and you. The two of you against the world in a time you didn’t belong to. 

His left hand grasped the inside of your thigh, which made you eternally grateful for the high-sitting fringe on the dress. You gasped, his warm, long fingers dug into your flesh almost possessively. His desire to mark you as his was as intense as your need to be claimed by him. And you needed to be claimed by him, completely. 

He played with the garter straps laying innocently against your legs and traced the seams of your stockings. You stripped his jacket off his shoulders, glad to be ridding him of the superfluous clothing but wincing when his hands left your skin.

His fingers continued to travel upwards, nearing the apex between your thighs. Now he was stalling, those digits you craved so much just hovered, occasionally tickling the crease of your leg. Dewdrop loved to tease you, it was all to get you back for teasing him so much. You knew you earned this, but you wanted him so badly to cross that threshold and touch you where you ached.

He moved his face back from your neck, meeting your eye line, watching you unravel before he’s even done anything to you. That smug look on his face made you unruly, and you flashed your fangs to urge him to get on with it. Dewdrop kissed you as his fingers slid under the seam of your panties. You sucked his bottom lip into your mouth, greedily biting at his lip. He growled in response as he stroked against your slit.

“So fucking wet for me.” He said in the midst of messy kisses, then he bit at your bottom lip, trapping it prisoner between his sharp teeth before drawing back. His eyes were dark as the void itself, “Or is this for him?”

That human? He couldn’t be serious.

“No, Dewdrop, only for you.”

“Fucking better be.” He pressed two fingers inside your aching center. 

He tilted your head with his free hand, kissing up your neck and ear again. Your ear which was now pointed, the skin he was kissing melting from an illusory human tone to a color wholly unnatural for a person.

Dewdrop pulled back again, admiring his handiwork. “Now who’s glamour is slipping?” He curled his fingers to punctuate the question, making your thighs fight to close.

Smug bastard.

“Show me.” His eyes glowed intensely. “Let me see you.”

“Are you -” a moan interrupted your question as he added a third finger inside you. Your nails dug into his shoulders. “A-are you sure?” He hadn’t seen you completely without your glamour before, and you felt nervous about bringing it out. 

He planted a passionate kiss for assurance to your lips, “Fuck yes.”

“Hmmm,” you hummed, debating whether you should. Then, you realized you could make it a game and a wicked, seductive smile had you goading him, “Make me cum and I will.”

“How can I say no to that?”

You had no warning as his thumb pressed against your clit. His fingers, fuck, they felt too good inside you. It was a curse, as they made it so yours could never measure up. 

He kept up his pace, and the stimulation between his fingers and thumb was making you weak. You felt your knees sagging slightly, but he kept you right where he wanted you against that wall. Dew didn’t let up for a moment, giving you all that you craved with the ministrations of his hand and kissed you deeply. You swear even your scalp tingled; you felt lightheaded already. And all the tension between you two earlier? That was the real foreplay. 

His fingers kept up their movements, in and out, in and out, giving you that sensation that had you at the end of a rope, hanging on a rope by a thread. Then he curled his fingers and you became flaming cinders burning the rope to ash. Your claws dug into his shoulders as your body tensed, teetering on the precipice of your orgasm. 

“Dew -” you whined, trying to hold on.

“Let go for me.” He whispered into your skin before sucking hard on the flesh of your neck.

You cried out in rapture as you shattered. His long fingers stroked you through the fluttering waves of your climax. You thought he would give you more time to come down from your high, but you were wrong. A moan escaped your lips as his fingers left your dripping sex and you looked at him. 

Dewdrop’s red eyes were intimidating, and filled with desire. You knew he wouldn’t wait any second longer. He gave you what you wanted, now it was your turn to sate him.

“Turn around.”

You did as you were told, obedient only for him. 

He brushed your fallen hair from the back of your neck to expose the top of your dress. His fingers hesitated with the zipper for a second too long before he let go of you. You were about to complain when you felt the cold press of metal skate up the back of your thigh. Your veins turned icy and made you go rigid as the metal glided up and under the hem of your dress. Far too close to your heat. Dewdrop grabbed the bottom of your dress in his other hand and with a swipe, shredded the garment from your body. 

“Dew! I liked that dress!” The shorn pieces lay in tatters at your feet along with the knife you recognized from dinner earlier. He must have pocketed it after popping open the champagne bottle.

“I’ll get you another one.” He sized you up, looking you up and down. “Drop your glamour. Now.”

You wanted to protest, but you knew he was just like you in this regard: Stubborn to a fault. It was his turn to get his way, and you had to give in.

You rolled your shoulders, removing your bra, then unclipping the garter belt from your middle. Concentrating, you closed your eyes, shifting into your true form, your hellish form. Your twin horns sprouting from beneath your thick hair, your tail appearing behind you, and your skin turning an inhuman shade somewhere between dusk and dawn. Your nails lengthened into claws and your teeth did the same, became sharper and deadly. 

Used to seeing so many parts of Dewdrop, it wasn’t anything new per se to have him do the same, but at the same time - it was. The air changed, it felt thick as you inhaled, taking him all in. Showing yourselves to each other shouldn’t have mattered so much. But this added a layer of intimacy to your tryst. Two demons in their true forms, finding temporary solace in each other's arms in this isolating earthly plane.

Ironically, it was a slice of heaven.

“You’re perfect like this.” He ran his tongue over his sharp teeth.

“Am I?”

“Yes.” He kissed you again, deeply, with a depth of lust you couldn’t place yet. His voice dropped low, “Now I think I might die if I’m not inside you. Get up there.” He ended the sentence with a chaste pinch on your exposed ass cheek.

You knew better at this point than to ask him if he wanted you face up or down.

It was a face down kind of night.

He didn’t waste a breath, no sooner had you “assumed the position” and he was behind you, bare, and pressing against your rear. 

An embarrassingly needy sound escaped you, but you couldn’t help it. You were like Pavlov’s dog and Dewdrop trained you exceedingly well. 

And he rewarded you even better.

He fisted your hair with one hand, pulling you back so you felt him right there. His thick cock rested perfectly against your wet cunt, and you wiggled your ass back and forth to coat his length with your juices. He twitched, hand reaching out to line himself up with your entrance.

This was always the part that made your toes curl and your breath stall. The calm before the storm with the tip of his hard dick against your lips. Every muscle tensed, your demon body roaring internally, needing to be taken by him, demanding to be claimed.

“Fuck.” He cursed under his breath as he pressed himself inside you, and you felt that familiar burning stretch. Your nails dug into the sheets for leverage, and you arched your back further, pressing back to ensure he buried himself to the hilt on the first go. Your mouth hung open as he bottomed out, then he immediately withdrew, leaving only the tip inside you before slamming his hips back against yours. His grip on your waist tightened as he started a rhythm that had you crying out for gods you didn’t believe in.

“You think that stupid, human, waiter could fuck you as good as me?” He was relentless, rutting into you like an unbridled animal. If there was one thing about Dewdrop you could always count on, it was that he would put all of his rage into fucking you. He held onto his emotions from the day and completely let go, only for you.

“Is that, fuck, is that jealousy I hear?”

“Maybe it is.” You felt his claws coming out, digging into your soft hips. 

You growled, the feeling of your ass cheeks vibrating with every thrust of his hips meeting yours was spurring you on more. Just then, an idea in the heat of the moment hit you. You craned your neck to rake your gaze over him, distracting him with your pleading eyes. “Give me more, please Dew. I need more.”

He took the bait. His dark eyes locked on yours, “You’ll take whatever I give you, harlot.”

You used his distraction to snake your tail up and behind his back, careful to avoid his in the process. The spaded end of the appendage dragged itself underneath his arm, running along his ribs with a feather-light touch.

He jolted, not hesitating to give you a hard smack on your right ass cheek before pulling out of you. The feeling of being empty made you clench, alarm sounds ringing in your feverish brain. You sat up, playing innocent even though he would never buy it, “It was an accident.”

“I don’t care.” He shifted himself so his back was against the pillows along the headboard.  “You want to misbehave then you’re going to have to work for it.” His red eyes flicked downward before landing back on your nude frame and he crossed his arms. 

“With pleasure.” You purred, mocking the sentence the waiter had said to you earlier. Only now, it was to further goad the fire ghoul. Moving to straddle him, you kept your gaze on him, your throne to sit and satisfy yourself upon. Just you wait, ghoul, I’ll make you scream for me.

Your shoulders moved like a feline predator stalking its prey as you crawled up onto his lap. You rose up on your knees. He remained in his unhelpful posture, arms crossed. That’s fine. He never could keep himself from touching you for long. Your hand touched his length, stroking him lazily several times while watching his face closely, his only reaction being a slight purse of his lips. You knew he was probably biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself so stoic.

You moved to be above him, lining his cock up with your entrance and sinking down on him. You bit your lip to keep from moaning and Dewdrop hissed in response. Fuck. It didn’t matter how many times you did this, it felt so fucking good every time.

You lifted yourself back up, wanting to start slow, but Dew had other ideas. He swiftly grabbed your hips and forced you back down on him hard, punching the air from your lungs with the strength of his thrust. A cry escaped from your lips.

He was never able to help himself from manhandling you, especially when you were on top. But, it was unusual for him to lose his patience so quickly. He bucked his hips up into you as you tried and failed to establish a pace. He wouldn’t let you go, his claws digging into the plush skin at your waist possessively.

“Dew!” You gasped his name as he claimed the flesh of your neck, biting and sucking everywhere he could. 

Frustration and pleasure hit you right in your middle. No movement was your own. He was relentless. And he was not loosening his grip on you for a second. He was so out of control it seemed, like some part of him had woken up and seized authority over his brain. 

It was because you dropped your glamour.

The realization hit you right as you began to see stars once more. It was so good. Too good. Just his cock inside you and you felt yourself barreling towards another orgasm. His pace was almost cruel, dragging you up and pulling you back down, feeling every inch of him.

Another heavy breath escaped you before you could speak, “Dewdrop?”

He cursed again, “What?” His hand fisted your hair, catching your lip between his fangs and tasted you. 

You broke the kiss, biting the inside of your cheek to ground you. The pain helped you find your words, “You want me to be yours?”

“Yes.” He growled, “Fuck.”

Your voice was barely a whisper now as you fought harder to stave off your climax, “All yours?”

“Yes.”

You snaked your tail up again, this time caressing the side of his neck with the spaded end. You dragged it back, brushing his long hair away from his neck, exposing the skin peppered by smudges of your lipstick. 

“Then let me mark you.”

A sound escaped him that was between a breathy laugh and a scoff. “I knew that’s what you wanted.” His pupils nearly completely enveloped his red eyes, and you knew yours were blown just as wide. “Take your pleasure from me, temptress.”

Without hesitation, you sink your teeth into the pale grey flesh of his neck as you reach ecstasy. You taste him in your mouth, then everywhere all at once. His blood is a liquid inferno on your tongue, igniting your senses. Your cries are muffled as you feel every muscle in your strong demonic body clench simultaneously. You hold him tight, claws taking root in his skin, as though he is your very life force as you ride the waves of your pleasure. 

Feeling your orgasm is more than enough to put him over the edge with you. You felt his dick twitching as he spilled himself deep inside of you and filthy words of lust leave his lips.

“Fuck. You’re all mine. Now and fucking forever.”

You release your mouth from his neck to allow him his turn, admiring for a slim moment the mark worth your canines. A breath barely passes your lips before he yanks your hair to the side and bites down on your neck, marking you back, his cock still pulsing inside you. 

Your eyes close tightly and you roll your hips, following the rhythm of each lap of his tongue on your neck until he breaks his hold on you. Both of you groan from the overstimulation, but your body fails you, feeling too spent to go another round right now.

You don’t waste time. Dewdrop is not one for cuddles, usually, but neither are you. A discomfort fills your body when you pull yourself off him, but you brush it off as the true nature of your hellish form overstaying its welcome.

Standing from the bed, you made your way to the vanity. Spying your glamourless self was not new, but it stirred something within you. Seeing the bite marks, hickies, and scratches he left gave you a tingling feeling.

You never came out from a tryst with Dew looking unscathed, but this was different. You brought a hand to your swollen bottom lip and ran your other hand through your hair, touching your pointed ears. Sighing, you went to change back, concentrating on changing your skin, your patterning back to human-like.

Dewdrop seized your wrist, “No.”

You jumped, whirling towards him. You hadn’t realized he even got out of bed. “No?”

“Just stay yourself a little longer.” His fiery gaze dropped almost timidly to the floor, “Please. I like you like this.”

Words failed you. But how could you possibly ignore his plea?

The answer?

You couldn’t. 

Anything for your fire ghoul.

#the band ghost x reader smut #dewdrop ghoul #sodo ghoul #dewdrop x reader smut #dewdrop ghoul smut #sodo x reader smut #nameless ghoul x reader smut

[psychee92]

Why ACOTAR 5 Will Be Azriel and Elain’s Book

If you’ve been following me for the past year, you are familiar with my metas. As an English PhD student and writer myself, I love spending hours doing research, analyzing text, and connecting the dots.

I won’t do that today.

Instead, I’ll stick to the text—namely, Azriel and Elain’s last on page interaction in ACOSF.

I highlighted the part that Maas added—separated from the rest of the sentence, to draw the reader’s attention to the words—to make it clear that, whatever is going on between them, it is mutual.

Now, let’s look at motive.

As a writer, I do not see the point of drawing the reader’s focus to Azriel and Elain’s mutual attraction to each other—and then having them end up with other characters.

What is the point?

Heartbreak that would lead to character development?

Azriel has been heartbroken for 500 years.

Until he’s not anymore.

Once again, Maas tells us, through Cassian’s observation, that Azriel’s feelings for Mor have diminished.

This, right here, is character development.

And notice the emphasis on “five hundred years”—that’s a very long time to love someone, even in fae years. And yet, Azriel stayed true to his feelings for Mor, and experienced heartbreak, over and over again, every time she withdrew from his touch, distanced herself from him, or slept with someone else.

This has been going on for 500 years.

500 years of heartbreak.

Why would Maas put Azriel through this again—why would she have him get over Mor (after 500 years), only to develop feelings for someone he will never be with?

Someone he would have to get over—again.

Why would Maas introduce yet another love interest?

He has been in love with Mor for 500 years. Now, his feelings seem to have transferred to Elain.

You’re telling me that Maas spent four books building Azriel and Elain’s relationship, only to have it lead to heartbreak for both of them—again?

The same storyline, recycled?

In ACOSF, we received confirmation of mutual feelings between Azriel and Elain.

What is the point?

From a writer’s perspective, this doesn’t make sense.

And no, you cannot tell me that she changed her mind. If she’d changed her mind after introducing Gwyn—if she’d seen potential in Azriel and Gwyn, she would have devoted page time to that relationship.

As writers, we do not have thousands of pages at our disposal. We write the first draft, and then we make cuts, over and over again, until only the most important parts, storylines, and characters remain.

In Maas’s own words,

This means that Azriel and Elain’s “charged glance” was added—and kept—for a reason.

Remember: Maas could have easily destroyed whatever romantic buildup Azriel and Elain had in ACOSF. She could have used that paragraph to make their relationship platonic—a friendship, nothing more.

But she didn’t.

Why?

What is the purpose of creating a relationship, a connection, between two characters, only to completely destroy it in the next book?

Why even bother, if that is Maas’s plan?

Heartbreak will not lead to any character development for either of them.

Not unless they decide to pursue a relationship—to act on their feelings, on their attraction.

Not unless they end up together.

I know that a very popular theory is that the heartbreak caused by Azriel ending up with Gwyn will lead to evil!Elain.

But let’s not forget that Elain does not need yet another heartbreak to turn evil.

She’s had her heart broken before.

Badly.

Nothing that Azriel could do would ever surpass this:

Do you truly believe that seeing Azriel with Gwyn would be worse than what Graysen did?

Elain has had her heart broken—shattered.

And she recovered.

Her character development—the character development that took place after heartbreak—was underlined by Maas in ACOSF.

Again, why is this important?

Why did Maas want us to know that Elain has healed, that Azriel no longer longs for Mor?

It doesn’t matter how you look at it, creating a relationship and/or feelings that are not necessary for the plot to move forward is a waste of space—and completely unnecessary, from a writing standpoint.

Azriel does not need yet another heartbreak.

He does not need Elain to get over Mor, only for Gwyn to help him get over Elain.

Why not have Gwyn help Azriel get over Mor? Wouldn’t that have been much more powerful—wouldn’t that have made more sense? What is Elain’s purpose here, if not as Azriel’s main—and only—love interest?

Similarly, Lucien and Elain's relationship could have been built without Azriel complicating an already painful mating bond.

They have more than enough angst and obstacles to overcome—Elain’s feelings for Azriel do not make sense. She could have easily been in love with Graysen, if Azriel and Elain’s relationship won’t lead anywhere.

Let’s face it.

An attraction between Azriel and Elain does not make sense, unless they end up together.

It will in no way drive the plot forward.

The only thing it would do is make Gwyn third best.

Make Lucien third best.

And that is the last thing that Maas would want—to cheapen two endgame couples by adding a completely unnecessary attraction to other people into the mix.

This is, after all, the author who gave us some epic love stories—the author that doesn’t do anything without careful planning:

Could Maas have changed her mind?

Could Gwyn have come on page, and made her realize that she is the perfect match for Azriel?

Of course.

But then, there would have been no charged glance between Azriel and Elain.

No offer and permission, no almost kiss and forbidden love trope introduction. No mention of Blood Duels, and “what if the cauldron was wrong?” questions.

Emphasis on cut and rewrite.

If Maas would have changed her mind—if her characters would have steered her in another direction—the charged glance would have been between Azriel and Gwyn. Between Lucien and Elain.

But it wasn’t.

Instead, theories that we’ve had for years now—that Azriel and Elain are starting to fall for each other—were confirmed.

So, what’s next?

Their book, of course.

Because that is the only thing that makes sense at this point.

And if you truly believe that Maas will turn Elain into a villain because of Azriel, you are clearly reading the wrong books. Maas has never made a romantic relationship the driving force behind a female character’s actions, and she won’t start with Elain.

#elriel #pro elriel #elriel is canon

[shurisneakers]

shut in [11]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: cursing, anxiety, ptsd, abuse

Word count: 2.7k

A/N: just to clarify, there are 14 chapters and an epilogue!! also you guys are so nice, thank you for letting me know what you think about this <333</p>

i also appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!!

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

The wait was taking a toll. It was clawing at you from the inside, and paired with the occasional flare your anxiety gave, everyday was like spending time in an hourglass that was steadily filling up. 

Sam helped; making sure the both of you ate after spending hours planning out and revising every detail, introducing you to the world when you spent too long indoors. 

The constant rap of your finger against the table and pen tucked behind your ear was the position you found yourself in more often than not. Different scenarios listed themselves on a sheet of paper so you could go through the process of elimination, sorting each loophole out with proper backup. 

Going to New York, 3rd floor of 32nd Street, only cash-

“I’m goin’ on a run.” Sam poked his head in from the doorway to the kitchen. “I’ll be back before Ransone calls.”

“What?” you mumble, not paying attention. You scratched out another implausible scenario, leaving you with many more to go. Everything had to be perfect.

“Going out. Be back soon,” he repeated. 

It still took a minute to register but you found yourself shaking your head once it did. “No, don’t.”

“Why?” he straightened up, no longer leaning on the wall. “Something wrong?”

“It’s not safe.” 

“I checked the cameras. No one’s out there,” he sounded confident but you couldn’t shake the feeling of skepticism around the situation that was beginning to return to you. “I’ll be careful.”

“You could be careful by not going.” You shouldn’t have to explain this to him. “It’s not safe.”

“Nothing’s changed yet-”

“They have.” You whip around to look at him. “Things are different now. We don’t know what’s out there.”

You both know that he had already been seen once. Who knew how many people were waiting forty feet away from the house? Risking his life for a jog was ridiculous.

“I can handle a 20 minute run,” he challenged. “I’m not even going that far.”

“You’re being reckless.” You could see the rebellious streak he had warned you of before making an entrance. Though you found his spontaneity endearing, the rashness that accompanied it you weren’t fond of.

“It’s not a big deal.”

“It is, Sam,” you exclaimed. “We can’t fuck up the plan with you dying.”

He looks at you with his head tilted and annoyance on his face. A wave of tense silence washes over the both of you and only then do you realise it’s the closest thing you've had to an actual argument before.

“Is that really what this is about? The plan?” he questioned, arms crossed over his chest.

You hesitated.

“What else would it be about?” You know he saw it, the brief moment you took before you answered.

“I’m going for a run,” he said decisively. It stung more than it should have. “But I’m not going far. I’ll circle the house.”

That eased it, somewhat. You would prefer if he didn’t at all, but you were at peace with the compromise. A middle ground. 

You nodded, looking away from him. He left soon after, but seeing him run past the window every now and then made you feel better. 

Your mind replayed what he implied. You knew what he was saying, you weren’t completely dense. But you would never let emotions get in the way of work.

It had never worked out well for you before, not while you were still stuck with the organization. Like always, you could feel the familiar ache build in your chest, faces you prayed to forget flashing in your mind. 

You exhaled, forcing yourself to not relive it again. You were thinking an awful lot about it for someone who supposedly didn’t care about it.

Stupid Sam with his stupid cute face and stupid good heart. Fuck him.

____

“Y/N.”

“Ransone.” 

You nodded at Sam who was standing beside you with a glass of water in his hand, leaning his body weight on the table.

“Wilson there with you?”

“No, he isn’t.” Lying to him had become a habit by now, even though you were well acquainted with the consequences of doing so. “What’s the update?”

“We think we found them,” Ransone reported.

“Found who?”

“The people who shot at you.” 

Your body tensed.

“Who is it?” you asked slowly, peering at Sam through the corner of your eye.

“Serpentine,” he said coolly. Sam scoffed, taking a small walk in circles to calm himself down. “Trying to establish themselves at the top again. Went for one of you but we don’t know which, found both of ya instead. Killed Pierce then waited for you to show up.” 

Your eyebrows quirked up. You could see the muscles in Sam’s jaw tighten.

“How’d you find out?” You place your hand on his, urging him to calm down. He visibly softened, closing his eyes and letting out a silent exhale before nodding for you to continue.

“People talk. You know that Y/N,” Ransone sounded bitter.

“Not personally, no,” you mumbled. 

“Well, they do.” The way his tone shifted back to normal like the conversation you just shared didn’t happen almost gave you whiplash. “That’s all on our end. What’s happening there?”

“Nothing. No updates.”

“Y’know, I’m surprised you haven’t killed him yet,” Ransone commented. “He tends to get… mouthy.”

“I don’t see him much,” you lied blatantly, ignoring the insult to Sam even though you wanted to retort. 

“That’s a good thing. Can’t have you getting attached now, can we?” 

You barely looked at Sam, only zeroed in on the fact that his thumb was absentmindedly tracing circles onto your skin while he paid attention to what Ransone was saying.

“I’m not.”

“I’m sure you’re getting sick of him,” Ransone chided, pushing this conversation far longer than you wanted him to. “After this I’ll make sure you never have to see him again, don’t worry.”

“Why?” Your eyebrows knitted together. You wondered if you responded too quickly.

“I’ll have him stationed somewhere else. Away from you at all times. Won’t have to interact with him again.” He was doing it again. Ruining any fucking form of a relationship you could have. “You can thank me later.”

“That won’t be necessary,” you bit back. He knew what he was doing. He was drawing it out of you.

“Well I thought you’d be more grateful consideri- oh,” he stopped abruptly. “Unless you’re already attached to him.”

You pulled your hand away from Sam who only looked concerned about where this conversation was heading. The sudden chill that took its place didn’t make you feel any better.

“Oh, Buttercup,” he laughed pitifully. “You know it would never work. Don’t you remember all the others?”

You didn’t say anything. Only folded your arms together and forced yourself not to go down the path he was trying to drag you to. If you hung up now he’d only take it as a confirmation. 

“You two shouldn’t have been friends in the first place. Your lives would have never intersected if this didn’t go wrong.” You hated how he was pointing out things you had overanalyzed time and time again. 

You hesitated for a second, forgetting the fact that you knew he was preying on you on purpose. 

Because these were thought you’d already had. Thoughts of whether you were growing on him only because you were stuck together. Of course if he was forced to co-inhabit a safehouse for this long with anyone he’d like them. 

And as much as you despised to even think it, Ransone was right. How would it even work once you got out? 

It couldn’t. 

And you wouldn’t let yourself even consider the possibility that it might because it was just wishful thinking at best. The line between friendship and something more were merging together so fast, you weren’t even sure they existed anymore. 

“He doesn’t care about you, Y/N. I’m sure he’s charmed his way into making you think you’re important to him, but you’re not,” he sounded sympathetic, almost like he was patronizing you. “You’re just his way out of there, honey.”

Sam opened his mouth, ready to launch into a tirade. You held up a finger to silence him, praying that he wouldn’t do something stupid. You couldn’t lose the only communication you had with Ransone over this.

“I wish it didn’t have to be this way-” What a truckload of horseshit. 

“I’ll send you my location,” you broke in, words faltering. “Just have someone come get me.”

“If that’s what you want.” You could tell that he was barely hiding the joy he had gotten out of completely fucking with you.

“Don’t look for me directly. I’ll come to you. Just have someone ready to bring me back.” You couldn’t bring yourself to look at Sam. You had too much going through your head at the moment, things that had specifically to do with him.

“Are you sure? Someone can be at your doorstep within an hour, you know that.”

“I need time to sort some things out. I’ll tell you when I’m ready.”

“As you wish.” You wanted to smack him.

“Bye,” you say shortly, trying to wrap it up.

“Y/N,” he cut in before you could end the conversation. You wait for him to continue, not saying a word. “I’m sorry you had to hear it from me. I just didn’t want you to get hurt.”

You roll your eyes and hang up, not letting him get another word in. The minute you got a second to breathe, everything he said began crawling its way back into your head. 

“What the hell was that?” Sam fumed.  

“I don’t know.” It was the truth.

“That wasn’t a part of the plan.” You want to tell him to calm down because you had never seen him this infuriated before. 

“I don’t know,” you repeated, feeling more drained by the second. You fucked up by talking to him for so long, you knew it. 

“That sick, abusive piece of shit,” he continued furiously, but you only looked down, tuning out his droning. 

It was fucking humiliating to think that you could have a normal life. It just wasn’t possible. You were in too deep. Staying here with Sam only confused you, made you long for things that weren’t attainable. 

“He’s right,” you utter quietly, effectively shutting him up.

He stared at you incredulously. “What?” 

“He’s right.” You pushed yourself away from where you’re leaning on the table.

“About what?” 

“You know what, Sam.” 

“No, I don’t,” he retorted, “He said a lot of shit so I’m going to need you to specify.” 

“I’m going to take a nap.” Your head was spinning; you didn't know how to tell him. “I’ll talk to you later.” 

“Don’t run away from this conversation,” he sounded annoyed, rightfully so. “Tell me what he’s right about so we can talk this out.”

“About this,” you relented, spinning around to look at him. “Us.”

“He was just trying to get into your head, Y/N, like he always does,” Sam exclaimed, letting his arms fall beside him.

“This could never work, Sam. We’re friends because we see each other every single day, constantly.” You gestured back and forth between the both of you. “What happens once we get out? When you’re not stuck with me twenty-four-seven?”

He knew what happens to people when they get too close within the organization; he had first hand experience with Riley. They never survived long enough to tell the story themselves. They were ripped away from you, time and time again. It was so tiring to start all over from the beginning, every single time and for nothing. 

You didn’t want it to happen again, not to him. You just wished he’d believe the other anxieties you deemed less important than this, and dropped the topic. Another death is not something you’d be able to handle. 

“We deserve a bit more credit than that, I think,” he said defensively, taking a step toward you. “If our relationship was built solely on proximity then it wouldn’t affect you this much. We’re beyond that.”

“Well, what if we’re not? What if we realise we only tolerated each other because we didn’t have a choice?” you fired back, crossing your arms. 

“Speak for yourself,” he huffed. “I would never let that dictate my choice.”

He sounded so confident, so assured that it wasn’t circumstantial. How could he be so sure?

“I don’t get you,” you whispered. “I can’t figure you out.”

“What don’t you get?” He looked like he was on the verge of pleading. He stopped right in front of you, a temporary barricade between you and the hallway. 

“Why you treat me the way you do.” 

He looks taken aback for a second. “Did I do something wrong? Did I upset you in any-”

“No,” you interrupt him, realising that it didn't sound the way you wanted it to. “Why you’re so… good. To me.”

He doesn’t say anything in return and you can’t even look at him, feeling your cheeks burn with embarrassment. 

You had tried for so long to figure out what his motives were. Every time he did things that went beyond common courtesy, your gut would scream at you to find a hidden motive. No one was ever this nice to you unless they were put up to it. You’d had enough experience to realise this.

When you couldn’t find anything it only confused you more. You had shoved it away a while ago after he never displayed any other reason. You let yourself believe it for once.

But it was back; the incessant need to know everything. It was gnawing at you along with everything else because Ransone knew exactly what buttons to push. There had to be something. 

“Y/N,” he called out softly. You felt his hands on your shoulders, urging you to look at him. 

“It’s stupid,” you murmur, trying to ignore the fluttering in your heart. 

“It’s not. And I need you to look at me when I say this,” he says slowly, drawing your attention to his face. “I care about you. More than you think I do. You’re not some means to an end. He’s wrong and I need you to believe me on that.”

He waits for it to set in. You get why he wanted you to look at him now. There wasn’t an inkling of deceit in what he was saying. You had seen him lie, seen him try to bluff his way out of a petty situation. It wasn’t this. 

He cared about you because he wanted to. Not because he was forced to; whether it was because you lived together, or because of something else. 

There was so much more you wanted to ask him but nothing got past your throat. It was too heavy. You needed help.

There was barely any distance between the both of you. You could feel his breath, skin tingling from where he was holding you. 

You unconsciously move in, drifting towards the warmth he radiated. Your hands find a place on his sturdy chest, and you let his heartbeat tether you. 

His eyes close when you lean your forehead against his, forcing himself to control his breathing that was threatening to get away from him.

You don’t know how long you stay like that, forehead pressed against his, trying to make your peace with what he said. 

You want to kiss him, much stronger than the last time you had the same thought. Just to see what it’d be like. 

You instead pull away gently. Your hands still rest on his chest. You need time to figure out where your head's at.

“I trust you.” Is all you can say, not tearing your eyes away from him. 

He presses a kiss to your forehead, letting it linger there for a second and you revel in the flips your stomach does. “I trust you.”

But for now, maybe you can be content with where you are.

Next part

#sam x reader #sam wilson x reader #mcu fic #sam fic #sam wilson fic #sam wilson fluff #sam wilson angst #sam wilson series #falcon #falcon x reader #the falcon x reader #hitman!sam wilson #hitman!au #shut in fic #marvel fic #marvel #mcu #sam wilson #the falcon #sam wilson fanfiction #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #sam wilson imagine #sam imagine

[picwew]

SQUAD UP! It’s time for Yuna and his crew of miscreant demons!

(Picrews are here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, and here!)

The characters are, top to bottom, left to right--

Nakajima, Yuna: A human with unusually high magical potential. His specialty is the binding of demons into servitude, which he utilizes to stop particularly troublesome demons from threatening human populations across the globe. Most of the demons under his care were seduced by him, as he has quite a knack for making men want him. As such, several of his servants are vying for his favor, but, in his own words, “I don’t play favorites~”

Obviously, Yuna is a bit of a flirt. His tastes extend well beyond demons, into just about any non-human he can get his hands on. He has a ravenous appetite for handsome men, but no plans to settle down any time soon. It isn’t that romance doesn’t appeal to him, more that he’s still young and a little too free-spirited for anything permanent. The way he dotes on his servants, though, you’d certainly think he was in love with them, Nihil in particular.

Mourning Dove: Affectionately referred to by his coworkers as “Dovey”, this little fellow was the first of Yuna’s servants, and is therefore his most staunch defender. The details of his past are hazy, even in his own mind, but he was born into the slave trade, nameless, nothing, the psychological toll of which would not become apparent until his eventual escape. He was full of hatred for the humans who had callously treated him as property, and claimed many lives before Yuna was able to soothe his aching heart. “You’re pretty as a mourning dove,” Yuna told him. From that moment on, he decided that this would be his name.

Dovey is, above all, an empath. Much of his time recovering from a life of slavery was spent learning to feel again. Once he got the hang of it, however, he found that he felt a little too much, so much so that he’s become somewhat of a crybaby. When others are in pain, he is often the one to comfort them. His sweet disposition and cute appearance have earned him his coworkers’ love, although they still get a bit miffed with him whenever he tries to hog Yuna’s attention.

Dr. Callaway: An interesting case, and a tough nut to crack. Only Yuna knows his full name; no one knows his story. All he’s shared is that he was fingered for human experimentation, and that, no, he has neither learned his lesson nor wishes to. Still, he behaves himself well enough, perhaps because he is entirely obsessed with Yuna in the most unhealthy way. While most of his coworkers consider one another family, Dr. Callaway is detached and often mocking of their sentimentality.

As expected, Dr. Callaway is a terrible sadist. He takes great pleasure in hurting others in any way he can. Nowadays, this is limited almost entirely to insults and threats, but he has been known to get physical with others when Yuna isn’t looking. It doesn’t help that nothing seems to bother him in return. You could beat the man senseless, and he’d come out of it grinning like a jackal.

Corvo: This one was a misunderstanding--or, rather, a case of cultures clashing in a very gruesome manner. Corvo is a hybrid of demon and crowkin. Beastkin are not true demons, but are often lumped in with them, so mixed-race families are not uncommon. Unfortunately, this can lead to some problematic offspring, particularly when one or both of the parents are detached from human society. Corvo, like many crowkin, was taught that food is food, and that human meat is the most delicious of all. He bore no ill will toward humans, but his view of them as, essentially, cattle culminated in a visit from Yuna.

Following his binding, Corvo began the lengthy process of finding something he liked more than human flesh. This, as it turned out, was sweets--all sweets, from pastries, to ice cream, to candy. He had never had sweets before, and everyone agreed that they suited his bubbly, affectionate personality more than human flesh anyway. He is certainly the gentlest of all of Yuna’s servants, dedicated to his family and to protecting those in need. He’s especially fond of cats.

Erebus: Known by those who worship him as the Master of Crows, Erebus is an ill-understood being. He is ancient, but has had little to do with his own kind since time out of mind. Instead, he appears to have become so entwined with his worshipers that he can no longer live without their faith to sustain him. During the Northern Crusades, a great many of them were persecuted for their faith, and Erebus fell into a centuries-long slumber. Only when his followers began to grow in number again did he wake--and command those loyal to him to seek vengeance for their fallen brethren. Naturally, Yuna had a thing or two to say about that.

Erebus is highly asocial, but does not dislike his coworkers. It would be a stretch to say he views them as family; even so, he gets along well with them on the rare occasion Yuna can talk him out of his comfortable pocket of darkness. As the oldest of his colleagues, he is respected and even admired, but he cares little for the love of his own kind. He desires mortal love, which he receives through his worshipers. Due to their number still being relatively low, you’ll rarely catch him awake. Only Yuna seems able to rouse him, and only because Yuna is his “most cherished one”.

Mage: A troublemaker with a bark worse than his bite--but he can and will bite, so mind your fingers. Like Dr. Callaway, his true name is known only to Yuna. His coworkers know him as Mage, taken from Magenta, the name of the rather nasty chemical he produces to draw in his prey. He doesn’t harm them, but he has seduced many a married man away from his wife. Causing strife among couples is what he does best. As an incubus, he finds the taste of a married man’s energy too sweet to resist. So, of course, when he found himself seduced by Yuna, he was completely baffled--and absolutely obsessed. He still toys with married men now and then, when he gets the chance, but spends most of his time trying to talk Yuna back into bed.

Though rare, Mage can be persuaded to bust heads, and does so with the best of ‘em. He’s highly territorial, meaning that although he rather likes his colleagues, he often tangles up with them over Yuna’s affection. He is particularly hostile toward Nihil, who rather delights in teasing Mage with his closeness to their master. Outside of his romantic conflicts with his housemates, he tends to be rather lackadaisical, spending much of his free time lounging on every comfortable surface available. People find his presence enjoyable due to his easygoing disposition and passion for mischief.

Nihil: Of all the demons under Yuna’s employ, Nihil is the one who has come closest to winning his heart. Theirs is a strangely intimate relationship, one which Yuna insists is platonic--and yet, Nihil is at his side always, his obedient shadow. Of course, they weren’t always so close. Nihil is an inherently violent, cruel man whose sole purpose in life is to cause as much pain and grief as he possibly can. He is absolutely, positively insane, for no other reason than this is how he believes a demon should be. This is his aesthetic, and a demon’s aesthetic is absolute. He minds his P’s and Q’s now that he’s bound to Yuna, but never lets his “family” forget what he is, Yuna least of all.

Nihil loves no being, except, by his own admission, Yuna. He teases his master constantly, always pushing his limits, always pushing his buttons. “I am your loyal dog,” is a favorite line of his, spoken, with a pointed smile, whenever Yuna asks something of him. For some reason, it never fails to fluster Yuna, which allows Nihil to worm himself further into his darling’s heart. Unlike his colleagues, he is not afraid to get physical with Yuna, and many of their more heated arguments have ended in the bedroom. Whether Nihil actually enjoys servitude remains to be seen, but for Yuna, he would pull the moon from the sky.

Pox: The general consensus on Pox is “unfriendly, but not unbearable”. A life of self-isolation has made him difficult to approach, even more difficult to befriend, especially given that everyone he’s ever loved, he has killed. He is a demon of sickness, of plague and of rot, of suffering so old as to be carved into the bones of the earth. When he was young, he could not control the disease that spread from him. Though his mortal mother tried desperately to guide him, eventually, she was overcome, and Pox left the village he had once called home, now populated only by the dead and dying. He learned then that he could not live among his mother’s people, but he knew nothing of his father’s. Rather than seek them out and put them at risk as well, he exiled himself to the outskirts of human society, interacting with it only when necessary. With time, he came to understand his power, and was able to control it--but his peaceful life came to an end when one of the few humans he had allowed himself to love was killed in a botched robbery. Pox designated himself judge, jury, and executioner, and it wasn’t long before Yuna showed up on his doorstep.

Pox hides his self-loathing under a cold, hard outer shell. His mask is flawless, perfected through a lifetime of guilt, and he allows no one near enough to break it. His coworkers believe that they are despised by him, but in truth, he loves each of them with every inch of himself. Saying so is difficult, though, and such an admission would only encourage them to endanger themselves. He may be in complete control of his magic most days, but there are times even now when he catches himself slipping. He is desperate to protect Yuna and the strange family they have all built together, so much so that he would rather suffer in silence than risk their lives asking for help.

Seta Sericum: The peculiarity of his name has led to his coworkers calling him Silky, a moniker which he has accepted only begrudgingly. Silky is a Nephalem, the product of a love between angel and demon. Typically, his fathers’ love for one another would have ended in tragedy, but the two stayed together even after their angelic half was cast from divinity. Silky was raised in a happy home, albeit a mobile one; his fathers couldn’t risk staying in one place for too long, lest the Church track them down. Ultimately, it was the Church, their greatest fear, that was their end. They were cut down while protecting Silky, who was forced to flee in the vain hope that his absence might somehow save his fathers. The Church searched for him, but he had hidden himself well. Now an orphan, he swore vengeance on his parents’ murderers--and he got it too, once he was old enough to control his immense magical power. He despises the Church, but killed only those among its ranks who had directly harmed him. Regardless, Yuna came for him, and he submitted to servitude as recompense.

Silky’s demonic father was a real fop of a man, and his son is no different now that he’s had a chance to adjust to a normal life. He insists that everyone pull their own weight, that everything be in its place at all times, and has a fondness for indulgences such as expensive wine and imported chocolates. Without these little luxuries, he would surely have gone mad, for both his mischievous master and his trouble-making housemates frustrate him to no end. He has tried, with mixed success, to serve as a role model for them, but, oh, they are all such children. Dovey is far too naive, Dr. Callaway is far too sadistic, Corvo is far too oblivious, Mage is far too flirtatious, Nihil is far too violent, Pox is far too cold, and Vincent is far too reclusive. Erebus, at least, is well-behaved, though Silky thinks he could stand to mingle more with the group.

Vincent Blythe: On the forefront of medical progress during the Victorian Era, Dr. Vincent Blythe has become little more than a shell of his former self. When his prostitute mother was murdered by one of her stags, something snapped in him. He began targeting, torturing, and finally killing any man who frequented brothels or whom he had seen with street-walkers, believing himself to be the protector of his mother’s people. It was only then when he realized he was something more than human. His father, it turned out, had been a demon who had fallen terribly in love with his mother, but whose feelings had been spurned by her. After receiving a near-fatal wound in a skirmish with a prominent vampire hunter of the day, Vincent tucked himself away in a dark corner of London to heal. He slept for over a century, and when he woke, attempted to pick up where he’d left off. Confused, his trauma still fresh in his mind, he killed all who drew near. Phone calls were made, flights were booked, and Yuna arrived on scene to bring him back to his senses.

Vincent is terribly withdrawn. On the one hand, he is distrustful of all humans, and men in particular frighten him. On the other hand, he has had little to no experience with his own kind, and so struggles to fit in among them. He finds himself at an impasse, unable to shake the trauma of his mother’s murder, and equally unable to bond with his father’s kin. Because of this, he is prone to bouts of violent madness when he feels that he is being threatened, or when he wakes from particularly vivid nightmares, in which he witnesses his mother’s murder and can do nothing to stop it. Dr. Callaway has oft remarked that Vincent is a genius, a true medical prodigy, and that it is too bad he’s so “broken”.

#picrew #male ocs #demon ocs

[maybedefinitely404]

Day 29: Prinxiety/Loceit (pt 4)

Aaaand, part 4, the finale! 

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

@tsshipmonth2020

Day 29:  You have a telepathic link with your soulmate until the two of you meet.

Content warnings: discussion of conversion therapy/after effects, PTSD, food mentions, anxiety/panic attacks, internalized homophobia, mentions of the foster system/abuse (mental, emotional, neglect, past eating disorder), minor self harm/blood, mentions of dissociating.

Word count: 5.1k

Despite Roman’s claims that being around other people would only distract him, and he didn’t want to have to walk to the library every time he had homework, Patton’s constant pleading eventually broke him down. Now, much to his roommate’s delight, they spent every night in the middle of the study floor in the library, and Roman found that he actually looked forward to it. Sometimes someone he knew would walk by, and give him a valid reason to take a short break, and having other people around somehow motivated him to work harder. He was starting to understand the appeal of the place. 

Now, Patton and him were spending their afternoon there between classes, both working on their own projects and sharing a bag of popcorn twists. It was the only oil soaked snack that didn’t leave much residue on their fingers. Roman was deep in thought, struggling to remember an especially flowery Shakespeare monologue for a mock audition next week, when Patton kicked his leg under the table.

“What, Pat?” He took another moment to finish the sentence before he tore his eyes away from the book, surprised at his roommate’s barely contained excitement. 

“You’ve been humming for half an hour!” 

He hadn’t even noticed. He tended to do it a lot without realizing; humming along to his soulmate’s music. Ever since he’d come back almost a year ago, an occurrence he’d never had explained but held onto with fondness, Roman’s heart jumped every time his music played. It was just like old times, their old system immediately reinstated, and more than once he’d found himself singing along to the melodies in his head. Patton knew this, and could probably tell by the genre whether Roman was listening to his soulmate’s songs, or just had his own earworm.

“No, no, no, I like your humming! That’s not the point!”

“Then what’s the-”

“The guy behind you has his earbuds loud enough to hear!”

Roman strained his ears, and yes, he could barely hear the music coming from behind him. He definitely hadn’t noticed before, too deep in thought to notice something so trivial. But Patton was always on high alert, never able to keep his mind on one thing at a time. 

“Okay, but what does that ha-”

“You’ve been humming the same songs as he’s been listening to for half an hour, Ro! I think he’s your soulmate!”

Roman’s eyes widened and he spun around, effectively dropping his book onto the ground. Yeah, if he concentrated, he could tell that the song in his head was the same as the one just audible through the other’s earbuds.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive!” 

That’s all the convincing Roman needed. He jumped to his feet and rounded the other table so he was face to face with the stranger and knocked on the table a couple times. When he made eye contact, he thought he saw fear in the other’s face, but that couldn’t be right. Roman was not intimidating. The man at the table reached up to pop out one of his earbuds. 

“Hello lovely, I have a question for you,” Roman purred, dropping onto his elbows on the table. 

“I- I don’t-”

Apparently that counted as a meeting, because in that moment, the music in Roman’s head faded into nothingness. And he could tell it wasn’t just the music being paused. He was left with a neutral emptiness he hadn’t felt in a long time, a silence that was rare, and an innate knowledge that it had happened: their link was no longer necessary and had dissipated. Roman grinned wide, barely concealing a squeal. 

“You’re my soulmate!”

He didn’t know what reaction he was expecting, but he sure as hell hadn’t expected the man at the table to get up and sprint out of the building at full speed. 

“Stay here, Ro,” Patton was suddenly at his side, laying a hand on his bicep, “I’ll go after him. I don’t know what just happened but I don’t want it to happen again.”

Patton scooped up the other man’s things from the table and jogged out the library door.

-----

Virgil didn’t know where he was going; he hadn’t planned on running out of the library. Dammit, he hadn’t planned to run into his soulmate. And he knew that was his soulmate, and not just some weird coincidence. Because the moment they’d locked eyes, it was as if something in his mind had snapped, like a rubber band that had always been there but the pressure was so constant he didn’t notice it there until it was gone. Their bond had snapped; it was no longer necessary, because he’d met his soulmate. 

He recognized the guy, just barely. They were in the same first year math class, a course often taken by upperclassmen (probably like his soulmate) because they’d put off getting a math credit until their final years. Logan had warned Virgil of that when he was choosing his first year courses, and so he was safely getting it out of the way so he could focus on his major in the coming years. 

His breathing was choppy and strained as he tried to calm down his panic attack, dropping onto the ground under a large tree. He couldn’t keep running lest he collapse and draw more attention to himself, and that was far worse than anything he could imagine. Fighting the urge to scratch at his skin, he buried his head in his hoodie clad arms, fumbling with one hand to free his phone from his pocket. 

It’s actually a guy, it’s a guy, he’s gay, wrong wrong wrong-

No, not wrong. It’s not wrong.   

Yes it is, it’s going to hurt, you’re going to hurt, wrong wrONG WRONG!

His hands were shaking far too hard to text but he tried anyways, begging Janus to come pick him up early. Logan wouldn’t be done work for another couple hours, and usually Virgil would be fine just doing homework until his dad was ready to drive them home, but he didn’t think he’d be able to handle being on campus much longer. 

“Hey, kiddo?”

Virgil’s head jerked up just as he clicked send, fighting every urge in his body to bolt again. It wasn’t the guy… his soulmate… but someone else he hadn’t met before, panting. 

“Heya, my name’s Patton! You ran out without your stuff, so I brought it!”

Oh, he was holding his backpack, and his folder under one arm. Virgil was just trying to encourage his legs to move, to stand so he could take his things, when the stranger dropped into the grass in front of him. He flinched. 

“Here ya go,” He pushed it towards him like a child trying to coax out a scared cat, “I’m so sorry me and Ro scared you. He just gets over excited sometimes. I promise he’s actually very gentle.”

Virgil stared, pulling in a halting breath. 

“The guy who ran up to you, that’s Roman. I’m his roommate, by the way. I’m Patton. Did I introduce myself? Doesn’t matter. I’m a third year psychology major. Roman’s in third year too, music and theatre major.”

He should probably introduce himself too, but his hands were frozen, clamped around his phone, and he found his voice wasn’t cooperating. That didn’t deter the other dude, though.

“Here, I wrote out both of our numbers. Roman feels super bad for scaring you, so you can take your time, if you want.” He delicately placed a ripped piece of notebook paper on the backpack between them, “His is the first one. But I put mine in there too, so you can text me if you want to talk. The more friends, the better.”

Virgil’s phone buzzed, alerting him of Janus’ response.

“I’ll let you be, okay? Remember to text!” With an exuberant wave, he dashed back to the library. Virgil read Janus’ panicked message, asking what had happened, in a bit of a daze. His dad agreed to come get him, so he stuffed the paper into his pocket and slung his backpack over his shoulder.

-----

Janus had asked him not to go into his room when he was so worked up, instead giving him free reign of the living room while the older restarted the dinner he’d abandoned in favor of picking his son up. He’d turned on the TV for Virgil, changing the channel to a nature documentary, given Virgil his favorite weighted blanket, and left him with strict orders to call him if he started spiraling or needed a hug. 

The distraction had worked for a while, the soothing voice of the narrator almost lulling him to sleep, until his racing brain had come to the conclusion that this was the worst thing to ever happen in the history of ever and that he was going to die alone. He’d been a little hopeful that his soulmate would be a girl, to somewhat appease his trauma, but life was never that easy. A part of him had also been a little miffed about that hope, because as much as he liked to pretend, he had a preference for boys. A big preference. And his soulmate was cute. 

“Everything okay, Virgil?” Janus called through the pass through window into the kitchen, taking his eyes off his food preparation to watch his son’s pacing. 

“Yup!” He lied, picking and scratching at the skin of his hands out of his dad’s view. The pain settled him a little, giving him something he could control, but he knew he’d get a figurative slap on the wrist for it later. A concerned slap, not an angry one. Maybe more of ‘a cuddle on the couch and wrap the little patches of broken skin and an update with his counsellor’. So not really a slap. At all. As it usually went. 

Everything was wrong. What kind of shit first impression had he given his soulmate? Getting up and running away like an actual child? And that was only part of it. He was damaged goods, a broken person, who needed more help and reassurance than any other person. How could he explain to his soulmate that he was the cause of his problems without making him feel guilty? That wasn’t the life the man had signed up for, wasn’t the soulmate burden he’d wanted. He would want someone easy, someone who wouldn’t have panic attacks when they got shocked by a door knob, who didn’t stop eating when they were scared, who pressed pause on life when he woke up in a dissociating headspace. He couldn’t say that to him. He’d lost everything, that vague musical connection to an invisible soulmate, that had given him a subtle hope. It had been a quiet illusion, a promise that he’d be fine if it were never fulfilled. Knowing there was someone out there, providing him music, had been enough. But now…

“Virgil, hold these for me.”

When had Logan gotten home? He put his hands out obediently, clenching the fingers over the ice cubes placed in each palm. The sensation startled him and sent a shiver up his spine.

“Four, seven, eight. Ready?”

He followed the breathing pattern eagerly, feeling the curls of anxiety in his stomach slowly settle into butterflies. When he was breathing normally, an overwhelming sense of dizziness almost knocked him over. Logan took his arm and led him to the couch.

The next moment, Janus was kneeling in front of him, rubbing disinfectant into his few bloody scratches, the melting water dripping through his fingers and onto the carpet. 

“I should have noticed,” he murmured as he stuck a couple bandaids onto each hand, refusing to meet Virgil’s eyes.

“Don’t blame yourself, Janus. I don’t think it was happening for too long,” Logan assured, running a hand down Virgil’s spine. “Did this have to do with the reason you left school early today?”

Virgil nodded.

“Are you nonverbal?”

“No,” he choked, clearing his throat, “Just dry throat.”

“I got it,” Janus leapt to his feet and hurried to the kitchen.

With a heavy sigh, Virgil leaned into Logan’s side, the hand on his back traveling to wrap around his shoulder comfortingly. The last drops of the ice cube hit the carpet, and he dried his hands off on his jeans. “I met my soulmate today.”

“I see,” Logan said. For the umpteenth time, Virgil was beyond grateful that Logan was an expert at masking reactions. It made difficult conversations easier.

“It’s a guy.”

“How did that go?”

“I ran out of the library and had a panic attack. His roommate brought me my stuff and gave me their numbers. I made an idiot out of myself.”

Logan was quiet, giving Virgil a little squeeze. A water glass was pressed into his hands and Virgil downed the whole thing, passing it back to Janus, who placed it on the coffee table. 

“I think… I think I’m magnifying. Maybe.” He described his thoughts that led to his spiral as quickly as possible, feeling slightly pleased when Logan agreed with his hypothesis. 

“You are definitely magnifying. Good job for recognizing that, Virgil. You don’t even know him, much less what he thought of your interaction.”

“What’s our next step?” Janus spoke up, resting a hand on Virgil’s knee and rubbing it with his thumb.

He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“Can you sleep on it, and message him tomorrow?”

Virgil thought about for a second before shaking his head even harder, “No. I have class with him tomorrow, and we’re getting a study guide for a test. I can not miss it. But what if he comes up to me, or wants to talk, and I embarrass myself again, and-”

His dads both hushed him at the same time and he took a deep breath, closing his eyes against Logan’s side. “What do I do?”

“You could message him tonight,” Janus drawled.

“Are you crazy?” He shrieked, “No! What would I even say? ‘Hey, you freaked me out today, sorry for running like a lunatic’?!”

“Why not explain the cause for your hasty escape?” Logan piped in.

“That’s way too much to load onto him as a first conversation.”

“Not all the gory details, just a vague explanation. That’s how I started talking to Logan,” Janus stated, adjusting his position on the floor. “If he’s your soulmate, Virge, he’ll be okay to deal with this. It’ll come out eventually, and if something else happens, it will be nice for him to have some context.”

Virgil groaned. “I hate when you make sense.”

“We can help you construct an adequate message.” Logan squeezed him again, meeting Janus’ eyes with a small smile.

“Fine.” Virgil snarled, pulling out his phone and the two numbers, typing the first one into his ‘new contact’ list. “Okay, what do I say?”

-----

V: Hey, I’m Virgil. We met earlier today. In a manner of speaking.

R: OMG, hi! I’m Roman. I am SO sorry for startling you!

V: It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault. 

R: I still feel bad DX

“He feels bad, what do I do?!”

“I would suggest explaining the reason you ran off to ease his concerns.”

“Me too. But ask first, and don’t give more details than you’re comfortable with.”

V: Can I be brutally honest for just a second?

R: Should I be nervous? Haha go ahead!

V: I was forced into conversion therapy about a year back, and I still carry a lot of the trauma with me. That’s why I ran. It was just gut instinct.

“He’s not responding, oh god, he’s going to block me, why isn’t he responding?!”

“I assume this news would take a moment to process. Focus on your breathing, Virgil. Don’t magnify.”

“You also sent it, like, ten seconds ago.”

R: Holy shit, that’s terrible. I’m so sorry. 

“...That’s not what I expected.”

“This is a regular reaction from a human being with even a lick of common sense, Virgil.”

“Seconded.”

V: It’s okay, I have a really great support system now. 

R: That’s good. I’ve never experienced anything like that, so I can only imagine how hard that was. 

R: I don’t expect you to answer if you don’t want to or don’t know, so please don’t feel pressured, but do you know what kind of soulbond we have? Is it platonic?

“Shit, fuck, who do I answer that?”

“With the truth, I’d imagine. Do you have an answer to his question?”

“Remember what I told you, kid. Your own pace.”

“Logan, if I explain it, can you put it into words? Please?”

V: I’m not averse to a possible romantic relationship in the future, but at the moment I am still learning to become comfortable with myself, as I have negative connections to that part of my identity that can become problematic if not properly worked through at my own pace.

R: Give me a couple seconds to decode that

V: My dad wrote it, he’s a prof. I have both of them helping me not freak out right now. 

R: You might want to date one day, but you need to take it slow because of your trauma. 

V: Uhm… yeah. I could have said it like that. 

R: Is talking to me upsetting you? We can always talk another time.

V: No, I’m okay. 

R: Okay, then as far as I’m concerned, we move at your pace. That’s not an issue for me at all. 

“I… oh. He’s… wow.”

“I agree with your sentiment.”

“I like this boy already.”

“DAD!”

R: Your dad’s a prof? 

V: One of them is. He teaches at our school, Prof Sanders. 4th year chemistry?

R: Oh shit. I’m in his class.

V: Lol he thinks he knows you

R: You have two dads?

V: Yep

R: That’s so cool. I’d really love to meet them.

V: Wow, we met today and you’re already wanting to meet my parents?

R: Heeey, I want to meet them as a FRIEND. 

V: My dad says after the semester’s over, you’re free to come by

One at a time, Virgil’s dads left him on the couch with an ear to ear grin, Janus to reheat dinner and Logan following him just so he could cling to his husband's waist as he moved around the kitchen. Neither of them wanted to disturb the little bubble their son was in. 

-----

In the weeks following, they’d started to sit together in the one class they shared. Virgil had begun to join him and Patton on their nightly library study sessions, and after some more gentle convincing, had given in to sitting with their whole friend group during meals at the cafeteria. He was growing more comfortable with Roman, no doubt about that.

Didn’t mean he wasn’t fighting off an anxiety attack as he waited by the door to get picked up for their first outing alone.

He kept checking his phone and glancing out the peephole as Janus ran calming fingers through his hair. Virgil leaned into the touch instinctively, consciously slowing his breathing as Janus hummed. Logan was watching him from the entrance to the hall, leaning on the kitchen door frame. There wasn’t much he could do, but dammit if he wasn’t going to watch his son go off on the most anxiety inducing situation of all of their lives.

“You’ll be okay, kid,” Janus muttered, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. “You’ve been friends with him for a while now, and he said there were no expectations. You’re in total control here.”

“What if I have a flashback, or a panic attack, or go nonverbal or something? He’s going to freak the fuck out and then all the work will be for noth-”

Logan spoke up. “You’re worried about things that may not even happen. And besides, haven’t you spoken to Roman about these things already?”

“A bit. Not in detail,” he whispered.

“I would suggest you do so, today if possible. It will make any possible situations that arise easier and less jarring to deal with.”

Virgil looked up at Janus, a pleading look in his eyes.

“He’s right, kid. The sooner you get it out of the way, the better.”

There was a knock at the door and Virgil nearly jumped out of his skin. To his disdain, Janus backed away until he was next to Logan, gesturing at the door with a small smile. Virgil growled out a curse and opened the door, the scowl on his face melting into a sickeningly authentic smile.

“How’s my favorite emo? Hi Mr. Sanders, hey Prof.”

“Hello.”

“Salutations.”

“Your favorite emo?” Virgil snarked, pulling on his jacket. It wasn’t cold, not in the slightest, but he’d rather have the extra layer.

“You’re the only emo I know, so the choice is easy.”

“By process of elimination, doesn’t that also imply I’m your least favorite emo too?”

“Don’t start this again, Mr. Son-of-a-professor.”

“I’ll start it if I want to!”

The door closed behind them with one final wave to his parents, and the house was quiet. Janus leaned into Logan’s waiting arms, resting his head on the other’s collar bone. 

“He’s all grown up.”

“That he is, my love.”

-----

Virgil smirked as Roman set out a large cliche picnic blanket, gesturing for him to sit. He did, crossing his legs and leaning on his knees as the other began to unload the basket. 

“Okay, so for sandwiches, I have turkey, peanut butter and jelly, and ham. Patton made me bring apple slices because he’s a dad, but I’m sure we can convince the ducks to eat them.”

To prove his point, a group of ducks paddled out from under a weeping willow half submerged in the creek.

“I like apples,” Virgil defended, grabbing a slice from the open container and shoving the whole thing in his mouth. “How many people were you intending to feed with that much food?”

Roman pouted from behind a container of potato salad. “I had to show off my food skills, duh.”

“You made that?” Virgil asked with raised eyebrows as Roman set out a tin of mini quiches and a smaller one stacked with brownies and cookies. 

“The cookies were Patton’s, but he insisted I take some. And I would have bought more, but…” He tipped the basket towards Virgil, revealing the bottom absolutely filled with different canned drinks and water bottles. “I didn’t know what you wanted to drink.”

Virgil actually did laugh as he stretched forward to snag a Doctor Pepper, taking another apple slice as he sat back. 

“Do you have a sandwich preference?” Roman asked, choosing a Sprite for himself. 

“Turkey looks good.” Virgil said before his choice paralysis could come into play, breathing a sigh of relief as Roman handed one of the sandwiches to him. The less stress he added to his own life, the better. 

Roman had been right to bring an assortment of food, because dammit, he was a really good chef. Virgil was nervous to try a quiche, since he’d never had them before and the texture was odd to him, but Roman assured that if he didn’t like it, he’d eat it instead. Apparently he wasn’t eeked out by germs. After a nibble though, Virgil ate almost half the tin. Who knew cold eggs could be good? Roman took the ham sandwich, and they split the PB&J. The ducks were more than pleased to be given Roman’s half of the apple slices but Virgil refused to share, since fresh fruits were still a treat after a life of preserves. The younger wasn’t a huge fan of the potato salad, so Roman eagerly finished it, seemingly more excited to move onto the desserts but not wanting to leave any leftovers. 

They were just finishing up the frankly absurd amount of cookies and brownies when Roman broke their casual bickering, chasing a chocolate chip bite with a long swig of Sprite and tossing another apple to their swarm of awaiting ducks.

“So, tell me a bit about yourself, Virge.”

“What do you want to know?” Virgil replied, leaning back on his hands. 

“Anything, really. Childhood, siblings, favorite color, darkest fear.”

“Quite a spectrum, there.” There was a lot he could talk about, but he felt it might be better to get the bigger things out of the way. Janus was sort of the leading expert on this kind of thing, so his advice had probably been sound. He brushed his hands together to get the crumbs off them as he spoke, “Okay, so I grew up in the foster system.”

Roman tried to hide his wince. “Ouch. I’ve heard a lot of bad things.”

“It’s fucked,” Virgil drawled, stretching his arms above his head with a yawn, “I spent most of my time in a group home, though, because I was called ‘difficult’. No one wanted to deal with my ass.”

“Why?”

“Mmm, ran away, didn’t listen, talked back, antagonized any biological kids.”

“So like, a normal teenager?” The last apple slice was sacrificed to the feathered hoard. 

Virgil snorted, “Yeah, but I came with a receipt. And I kind of liked the group home more.”

“How many kids were in the home?”

“Never more than fifteen. It was a big home. But they circulated, and I was like a housecat. Never gone for more than a month.”

“Jeez,” Roman sighed, taking a sip of his soda. 

“My foster homes weren’t better.”

“Oh?” It was a subtle encouragement to keep talking, but now it was getting into territory that Virgil liked to avoid. 

“One of my foster houses was really neglectful, forgot to give us food, didn’t let us do laundry, that kind of stuff. Gave me a wicked ED. I was twelve.”

Roman grimaced.

“My next one was more emotionally and mentally manipulative. I was kind of made into a babysitter for their younger bio kids. I had to get them ready for school, make them dinner, just basically be a parent. After I ran away from them, they started having trouble placing me. I was older, had a shitty record, kind of a left over. I mean, I deserved it. I was a dick.”

“You were a kid, Virgil.”

“A kid who chose to make his own life harder.” He shrugged, “That’s why I was placed into… that home. They were a last resort place for other ‘trouble kids’.”

Virgil took a deep breath and, with Janus’ words in his mind, began to explain his attempted conversion; the slip of tongue that led to the placement, the verbal abuse, food deprivation, electroshock therapy, the snuck antipsychotics, forced isolation, ending with the day the wife had called the police behind her husband’s back out of guilt and he was rescued. 

Roman was quiet for a long minute after he finished talking, staring entranced at the can in his hands. The ducks had dispersed during Virgil’s story, upset at the lack of food. 

“I…”

Virgil waited for him to get up and leave, to say with false apologies that he didn’t think they would work out, that the connection was wrong. Because who would want to deal with him, his stupid trauma? But the man next to him didn’t move except to breathe, and Virgil took that as an invitation to continue, his tone quieter.

“I was super out of it for a while. Honestly, I don’t remember the rescue, or like a solid month after that, except for snippets here and there. The drugs were fucky. And then my social worker, god bless her heart, found Janus and Logan. Janus was in CT too for a while when he was younger, so they took me in. Took a long time, but I opened up to them, but by then I was eighteen. They still insisted on adopting me, though, and there’s absolutely no convincing Logan once he’s made his mind up, so… they did.” He waved his hands around a little. 

“Three months,” Roman blurted out of nowhere, making Virgil flinch.

“What?”

“Were you in ther-... CT for three months?”

“Two and a bit, why?” The moment it was out of his mouth, he realized the implications, and his heart froze.

“You were gone for three months. I thought you died, or… I don’t even know.” Roman looked like he was about to cry, watching Virgil imploringly. Him going MIA must have affected his soulmate more than he’d thought. 

“Two months of CT, and then another one before I got a new phone. I’m…” All the guilt he’d felt at the time came rushing back, the reminder of his soulmate’s music dwindling to almost nothing and him being helpless, “I’m sorry. Shit, I’m so sorry. That must have been…” 

“No, Virgil, you don’t get to apologize. That was not your fault.” He reached out a hand as if to grab Virgil’s and immediately pulled back, wringing his fingers instead. “Sorry, my choice of comforting is physical. But I won’t.”

“Thank you,” Virgil choked out, running his hands through his hair.

“Can you look at me?”

He did, taking a shuddering breath. He was moments away from a panic attack and he was not looking forward to that disaster. 

“You were being- quite literally- tortured for months. You were abused in ways that shouldn’t be legal, and you came out the other side stronger. Frankly, I’m amazed at your perseverance. You’re amazing.”

Simultaneously, Virgil felt a hot blush rise to his ears, and a sharp jolt run through his arms into his chest. He jerked violently, tipping over his own soda onto the grass. 

“Shit, did I say something wrong?” Roman gasped, reaching over to pluck up the can before it could spill more. It was already half empty, thank goodness. 

“No, I just… do that. Sometimes. From… CT. Kind of like ghost shocks, I guess.” Why couldn’t the ground just open up and swallow him whole, he wondered. He hadn’t done that jerk thing in front of anyone in so long. The last time had been in front of his now-parents, and they’d quickly grown used to it. He’d grown used to their own contact very soon and his twitches had stopped after he was accustomed to it, but it had never been directed towards him, and he had a feeling he’d need time to stop his impulse reactions. 

“And me calling you amazing…”

“Triggered them. It’s an exposure thing though, so I’ll just need to get used to it. Don’t blame yourself.” He dug the heels of his hands into his eyes until bright white flashes of light burst into his vision. Suddenly, he was exhausted. 

“Do you want me to drive you home?” Roman asked, already packing up their picnic basket. Virgil nodded, his social meter drained, and all ability to be a civil person was quickly deteriorating. His therapist said that would also begin to heal after a while. 

Roman was an absolute angel though, letting the silence linger so Virgil could cradle his slowly growing headache, even opening the door of his car like a perfect gentleman. As they pulled out of the parking lot, Virgil rested his head against the seat and let a tiny smile tug at his lips. It would be a long process to retrain his brain (in theory, he was okay with being in a relationship with a man, but actually doing it? Infinitely harder), but for once, he was actually looking forward to the process. 

Would you guys like a collection of one shots surrounding Virgil’s gradual warming up to his new family, a decent mix of angst and fluff? I have some ideas. 

Thanks for reading! Now, a taglist. 

@sapphic-satan

@anxious-logic

@wigsnatchedhoteltrivago

@extraintrovertedalien

@punk-academian-witch

@ray-does-stuff

@chimneychimney

@i-cant-find-a-good-username

@falsemood

@wtf-casper

@cpmansion

@killjoyjay

@fandomfan315

@anxious-darkwolf

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@winterwynd

@espepspes

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@weweregoddesses

@im-an-anxious-wreck

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@astraheart04

@quartz-z

@mikalya12

@koalas-in-coffee

@isabelle-stars

@a-ghostlight-for-roman

@existentialeggdogg

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@coffeeflavoredtears525600

@wyvern-tales

@heyhalloween

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@mostlikelytokillyouwithaspoon

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@lostspacecat

@green-call

#lywrites #tsshipmonth2020 #prinxiety #roman sanders #virgil sanders #loceit #logan sanders #janus sanders #patton sanders #sanderssides #sanderssidesau #sanderssidesfanfiction #sanders sides #sanders sides au #sanders sides fanfiction #ts soulmate au

[mooniefics]

unforeseen circumstances [ 1 ]

pairing : porco galliard / fem reader

word count : 4.3k

tags : porn w plot, angsty lol, porn w feelings, doomed love

warnings : nsfw

summary : at first it had been necessary, a consequence of getting more and more information out of your target, but now you realize that the time spent with him had developed into a bond that was undeniably something more.

— originally posted 12 / 29 / 20 on ao3 —

intercept, infiltrate, escape.

that was the mantra you'd been repeating over and over again in your head for days. your squad was counting on you—paradis was counting on you—to do your absolute best out on the field, behind enemy lines. and you would definitely say that you had been doing well. you'd picked out your target just fine, maintained your cover effortlessly, gathered a hefty amount of intel that would mark your mission as a success when you delivered everything the commander back home.

in the same vein, you could admit, there had been a few hiccups here and there; a couple slips of the tongue that would've spelt certain defeat if you weren't so good at lying through your teeth, accidentally doing things that weren't in character of a diplomat's daughter, mostly small mistakes, nothing that wasn't easily rectifiable.

but, what was happening right now had to be the biggest hiccup of them all.

your hands were tangled in the thick mess of blonde hair, mussing it out of its usual brushed back style, lips moving fervently over his as you arched off the bed to press your body closer to him. you'd found that kissing him always left you breathless, thrumming with warmth and only wanting more. it was no different this time around when he pulled away, your chest heaving like you'd just run a mile as he pressed a messy line of kisses down your cheek and jaw.

"do you really have to go home after tomorrow, princess?" he murmured between pecks, hands beginning to work on unbuttoning your shirt.

"i told you i'm a countess, not a princess." you giggled, tugging your arms free from the sleeves and replacing your hands in his hair, "there's a difference, you know?"

"countess, princess, whatever, royalty all the same." he mused, giving a soft nip to your shoulder, "can't you ask your father to leave you here with me just a little longer?"

your face flushed at that, feeling a flutter in your heart at his earnest words rather than his impatient hands. it was those little requests, playfully delivered but nonetheless inviting you to really stay in liberio even if for just a day more, that reminded you of the weight of your duty. a small pang cut through the fog of arousal, your fingers tightening their grasp the slightest bit, guilt bubbling up behind the light airiness in your chest.

"you know i would if i could, porco." you replied softly, "but i've got business back home. my family's counting me for a lot of things."

and you weren't lying when you said that. you did have business and family back home, there was so many things that had to be done, and the only chance you had to get back home with the rest of your squad was tomorrow night, leaving this as the final evening you'd probably ever get spend with him like this. you tried not to think about those complicated details, but he made it easy to focus on him as his hands squeezed your breasts, rolling his thumbs over your nipples through the padded fabric of your bra.

"then i'll just have to make sure you remember me, huh?" you could feel him smirking against your skin, "give you plenty of reasons to come back real soon."

you let out a heated sigh at the feeling of him sucking at the crook of your neck, thighs clenching unconsciously from the low pulse of arousal stirring between your legs. you could tell that there was going to be a bruise in the morning, already hearing connie's vehement protests and sasha's prying questions in your head. screwing the enemy once was already bad enough, but this was now the fourth day he'd managed to get you in his bed.

this first night could've been excusable, seeing as you were both quite drunk after a carefree tour of the city, courtesy of him and his overconfidence, despite you knowing every nook and cranny of liberio from your time spent tracking his comrades' schedules. but you couldn't help feeling drawn back to him, and under the flimsy excuse of being able to get more information by being in his dorm, you had ended up back in his room within the next few nights as well. you technically did get a bit of work done, rifling through his belongings when he ventured downstairs to get you both a cup of coffee, but there was nothing of substances to be found besides some explicit magazines under the bed and a picture of his older brother tucked away deep in the drawers of his desk.

you knew you shouldn't get attached to him, you knew that you should just write these evening ventures off as meaningless sex to drive away the homesickness that had begun to set in. but you'd started to find yourself wanting to be around him more and more even before that first night, missing his scent of faint cologne that you could only smell when he held you close to him, memorizing everything from the flustered smile that broke out across his face when you'd kiss his cheek to the fuck-drunk grin you saw from your side of his bed the first time you'd slept with him. sure, he was arrogant and standoffish on the surface, but under that exterior there was so much more, more than you could ever hope to discover in the last twenty-four hours you had left in your stay. so you decided to let him bring you back here again, not even feigning protest when you both fell back into the comfort of his messy sheets and made out like two teenagers after their first date.

you could feel his hands trying to work their way under you, prompting you to arch your back off the bed so he could unclasp your bra. you gave a soft whimper when his teeth grazed over the fresh bruise, letting your eyes fall shut as he lavished your neck and shoulder with teasing, half-pressured bites and firm kisses. his fingers rolled your nipples between them, clearly relishing in the tiny whines and moans of his name that each pinch earned him. he turned out to be much more generous in bed than you'd first anticipated, always giving and giving without any expectation for something in return, seemingly content with just watching you fall apart in his hands, something which he made so ridiculously easy to do.

the moon outside cast a silvery glow through the window, illuminated his figure above you and making the more blonde locks of his hair glow golden. you let your hips roll up to meet his, earning a low groan when they pressed flush against the tenting bulge in his trousers. the places where he left his mark ached in the best way as he made his way down to your chest, earning another stifled whimpered when sucked at the valley of your breasts, fingers not stopping their slow routine that sent heat arcing up your spine. you muffled another whine when he bit at the soft flesh, tongue laving out to soothe the sting.

"ah.. p-porco, that..!" he didn't let you finish before he repeated the action to the other breast, firmly enough to print his teeth into your skin but not nearly enough to be entirely painful.

you were sure he could feel the way you were trembling now, how your shaky hands were tugging meekly at his shirt in a futile attempt to get it off. he pulled away with a chuckle, yanking it off of himself in one fluid motion and tossing it aside, planting a brief kiss over your lips before returning to his previous actions. this time his mouth descended over your nipple, tongue flicking over the pert bud and drawing more small whimpers out of you.

you were only keeping quiet out of the thought that the other warriors were in the dorms, and that they might come knocking eventually to tell you to shut up, but porco seemed more than happy to force more heated pants and moans out of you with little care for their volume. you squirmed under the power of his tongue, already feeling yourself practically soaking through your underwear as he swapped his attention to your unattended breast, hands smoothing down your waist to work at getting your skirt off. he managed to wrestled the lacing free more quickly than you thought he would, touch immediately delving under the loosened waistline and into your underwear.

"fuck," he groaned, thumb rubbing over your clit and making you up buck into his hand, "so fucking wet."

"stop t-teasing me.." you protested, feeling him move to nip and suck more marks at the underside of your breasts. you hadn't thought the skin would be so tender, but you couldn't help the moan that slipped from your lips at the sensation.

"makes sense that you're used to calling the shots," he spoke in a low tone, giving an apologetic lick to one of the larger bruises he'd left behind before proceeding further down your body, "but just trust me, alright? i'll make sure you'll never forget tonight."

you felt your heart skip at his words. "as if i could ever forget you."

you caught his small smile your own words garnered in the dim light, an expression that was boyishly shy yet prideful all at once, another image of him that you wanted to burn into your memory forever. after tossing your underwear aside to join the rest of your forgotten clothes, he guided apart your legs, pressing a soft kiss over your thigh before taking some of the pliant flesh between his full lips, sucking at it with enough pressure to make you whimper.

you knew what he was doing, littering your skin with bruises that would darken by the time morning came, leaving reminders of himself that probably would stay etched into your skin for the next few days, but definitely not more than a week. you assumed that he saw it as better than nothing, considering that the first time he left a mark on you he would always smirk to himself when he caught a glimpse of it, thumbing over it and kissing it when he could— figures that the prideful soldier loved to mark his territory. he took his time with this area, squeezing at your thighs and giving the occasional bite just to watch you squirm and whine, hazel eyes drinking in your visage as he teased you with the prospect of being so close to where you needed him.

"god, you look so good." he muttered after leaving the final mark, deciding that he'd drawn out his torture long enough, "i wish i could keep you like this forever."

you flushed brilliantly at that, your sheepish look garnering another quiet laugh from him before he settled your thighs onto his shoulders, fingers sinking into your soft hips and gently pulling you against him. the first lick was deliberately slow, laving up the entirety of your dripping cunt and stopping just at your clit, taking it into his mouth to draw small circles over it with the tip of his tongue.

you pressed one hand firmly over the lower half of your face to catch to moan that you couldn't swallow back and muffle the sound of your quick breaths through your nose, the other finding his hair and urging him closer. his mouth was exceptional, knowing exactly which places to lick and kiss, applying just the right pressure over you to make your toes curl and your legs shake, each low groan and mutter sending the delightful vibrations of his voice echoing across your skin. you did your best to not clench your thighs too firmly around his head, but your already vain efforts fell apart completely at the feeling of his tongue working its way into you, lapping up at the wetness that was now most likely dripping down his chin and making a mess of the sheets beneath you.

for all his hotheaded hubris, his smart mouth was good for much more than just spouting out arguments to defend his pride and dropping mediocre pick-up lines that would've been terribly cringeworthy from anyone else but were somehow endearing when he said them. one hand moved to replace the stimulation over your clit in his mouth's absence, the other sliding under your writhing form to find the small of your back, offering more support to the way your body arched into his mouth. the heat ebbing out over every inch of your flushed skin was overwhelming, leaving you drowning in the feeling of his skillful tongue and fingers, moans pouring out into the palm of your hand as you tugged at his hair and rolled your hips up into his touch.

"f-fuck.. c-c-can't.. i th-think..!" you could barely form coherent words, but you were sure he knew exactly what you were trying to tell him based on the way he redoubled his efforts over you, drawing out one last muffled whine before you came against his mouth.

you had expected him to let you ride out your high like he always did, eventually guiding you down with a steadily slowing rhythm and soft kisses to your trembling body, but he did neither, not even faltering as urged you even closer to his unrelenting attention.

"p-porco..!" you mewled, having to pull the hand at your mouth away to gasp in sufficient breath, "please—f-fuck—l-let me rest for a m-minute!!"

you met his gaze from between your legs, barely steady enough to match the intensity, not able to see his mouth but knowing he was grinning from the way the corners of his eyes creased. when you tried to unclasp your thighs from around his head, his hands quickly grabbed them and held your legs apart just enough to accommodate his place between them, his low chuckle at your desperate expression sending another jolt of pleasure sparking up your spine.

you couldn't stop the incessant trembling of your body, every muscle wracked with an uncompromising heat that drove breathless, unrestrained whines out of you as his tongue drew you back to that familiar peak in under a minute. each shaky clench on your hand in his hair earned you more low groans into your overly-sensitive flesh, your head craning back as far as the pillow allowed it to and heels digging into the firm muscle of his back as your lids squeezed shut, entirely immersed into the all-consuming heat that was fervid enough to bring tears to your eyes. you felt more than overstimulated as he finally let up and allowed you to fall back down onto the bed in a panting heap, pressing soothing kisses across the skin of your bruised thighs.

"do you need a break?" he murmured, not at all hiding how he was admiring your debauched expression.

"just a little one." you barely whispered back, still struggling to catch your breath and slow your heart.

he took mercy on you, slipping your legs off of his shoulders and stepping off of the bed to wrestle off his pants and boxers, giving you until then to regain your bearings. you let your wandering eyes settle on his dimly lit figure, the shadowed contour of the muscles lining his chest and arms looking even more defined in the faint radiance the window provided.

you would miss feeling the way they would flex under his warm skin when you smoothed your hands over the expanse of his torso, how you could feel his heart thud steadily against your fingers or hear it when you rested your head on his naked chest. just the thought of your departure was sobering in it own right, but remembering what you would have to take part in just after you would give your final farewell made you feel a lump knotting its way into the center of your throat. you tried not to let that dismay show on your face as he took his place over you once again, letting you pull him down into a kiss that was softer, less lustful than all the others that had come before.

"c'mon, getting sappy on me already?" he teased playfully. you didn't even have to open your eyes to know that he was grinning. you huffed, earning a small laugh and another gentle peck.

"no! just.." you met his gaze, suppressing your own smile at the sight of his cocked eyebrow and lofty smile, "just thinking about the next time i'll be able to come back."

another lie, but he didn't know, face softening at the pleasant thought. "you'll hear about it at the play tomorrow, but lord tybur's inviting all of marley's new allies to join hands against that island. things are gonna get busy from now on, and who knows? maybe you might have to come back and make another visit."

"here's to hoping." the hands on his cheeks wandered away to lace under his arms, forearms resting on his solid back and fingers gingerly grasping his shoulders, "i wouldn't mind spending a few more nights like this.."

"no need to be shy, princess," he smirked, punctuating the phrase with a more heated kiss that made your heart pick up its pace once more, the taste of you still discernible on his tongue, "you can be more honest than that, i won't tell on you."

you didn't correct him on your false designation this time, starting to enjoy it as more of a pet name than an official title. you felt the heat of arousal that had been dampened by your foresight flicker back to life when he dipped his head down into your neck, nipping and kissing at the array of marks he'd left behind, shifting his position so he could line himself up with your drenched cunt. you didn't realize you'd been waiting with baited breath until he eased himself inside of you, your shaky exhale drawing out into a low moan, the desire to be quiet completely forgotten as he started out at a slow, deep pace.

"fuck, i'll never get tired of this." he muttered, each thrust driving little pants and whimpers from your parted lips.

he seemed to want to draw out your intimate exchange as long as he could, knowing that you wouldn't last all night but wanting to savor this time nonetheless. and you were grateful for that, just as you were grateful for how he paid such special attention to make sure he always left you satisfied, or how he'd always managed to slip in those stupidly sweet comments that made you feel alight with a carefree airiness you hadn't felt in so long before you met him.

so the evening drew on, a cycle of whispered words and messy kisses, his grunts and groans mixing with your own breathy whimpers and whines, limbs tangling together to hold your bodies close and hips rolling to meet the others'. you came apart in his hands more time than you cared to count, more focused in how he would moan against your mouth when your nails raked down his back hard enough to leave reddened scratches over his tanned skin or memorizing the hazy look in his eyes when he stared down at you with that fuck-drunk grin, clearly spent but not wanting to throw in the towel until he'd given it his all.

satisfaction only came after you'd both finally reached the point of complete exhaustion, sticky with sweat and greedily gulping in gasps of the room's hot air, somehow still finding enough energy to breathily giggle at your tired expressions when you turned in bed to face each other. you waited until your skin had cooled off before you moved over to him, humming contently at the feeling of his strong arms doing most of the work of pulling you closer.

"come to the festival with me tomorrow." he said, voice low as it reverberated in the ear that was pressed to his chest.

"was that not already the plan, soldier boy?" you hadn't expected for your murmur to sound so tired, eyes already too heavy to keep open, the hand that was carding through your hair not making it any easier to cling to your waning alertness.

he let out a small chuckle, whether it was at the snippy remark or the new moniker you couldn't tell. "just making sure, princess."

the silence that settled around you both was natural, almost comforting, allowing you to hear the way his breathing had begun to steady out, and the slow beat of his heart that had just been racing alongside yours minutes ago. despite all your physical fatigue, you found yourself unable to fall asleep with him, the weight of all your thoughts keeping you anchored to consciousness. it didn't feel like tomorrow was the end, you weren't ready for the finiteness of reality to settle in just yet.

you nestled your face closer to his warmth, squeezing your eyes shut in an attempt to keep in the tears that had begun to well within them. it wasn't right, it wasn't fair, you deserved better than to have this happiness ripped away from you just as fast as you'd found it, he deserved better than the deceit and never-ending series of lies than you'd been stringing him along with.

"porco," you breathed, so quietly that you could barely even hear yourself, "i lo.."

you stopped. you couldn't say that. you couldn't think that.

you felt the tear that had slipped down the side of your face drip onto his chest, your arms around him hugging him tighter as you drew in a few deep breaths to calm yourself. you eventually forced yourself to sleep, knowing that you'd need it for the long day ahead of you, and hoping you'd find an escape from the unforeseen circumstances of your guilty conscious in your dreams.

the next day came and went so quickly, filled with loud music and chattering crowds and so much laughter, a happiness that allowed you to lose yourself in the fun of it all as you and him ate and drank from as many stalls as you could find. there were foods and desserts that you'd never seen before in marley or in paradis, curious instruments and street performances that he obviously wasn't used to either based on the eager sparkle that gleamed in his eyes. your feet were sore by the time the sun had begun to sink below the horizon, casting a warm glow across the entire city as you exited the avenue that had been bustling with life all afternoon now steadily emptying out as everyone readied themselves for the show that lord tybur would be hosting in the square.

you didn't let go of his hand as you both wandered down the city streets towards the square, worried that your palms would sweat or your fingers would tremble, giving away how much you were dreading reaching your final destination. you kept the smile that had been entirely genuine up until minutes ago plastered on your face, unable to come to terms with the inevitable end that was just a few meters and a side street away. and when the lines of wooden benches and large stage finally came into view, you felt that sinking feeling of your heart give way to an cold emptiness caving a hole in your chest, only able to follow him along as he guided you out of the walkway and onto an empty place on the sidewalk.

"i have to go sit with the rest of my unit, but i'll see you after the show, alright?" he told you without a second thought, entirely sure of the fact that he might have the chance to sneak you away for a few more indulgent moments before you had to return to your home country.

you swallowed down the lump in your throat, lips struggling to maintain their shaky smile as you answered. "definitely. we'll meet again here?"

he nodded, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. you tried not to make the deep breath you took to steady yourself obvious, balancing up on your toes to press one last lingering kiss across his lips. it didn't last nearly long enough, only able to catch a hint of ginger and lime from the last drink you'd both shared before he released your hand and started on his trek to his seat, turning to give a wave and a smile over his shoulder before he disappeared into the crowd.

as soon as he was out of your sight, you pushed down all the conflicting emotions that had been threatening to smother you, not allowing yourself to cry even as you ventured away from the stage. the show would be starting in less than five minutes, and it wouldn't probably take more than ten for eren to give his cue.

you couldn't get that last image of his face out of your head, eyes bright, smiling widely down at you, so entirely unaware of the chaos that would unfold just after the curtain call. buildings would be destroyed, people would die, people he most likely knew and spoke to longer than he was aware of your existence, and a portion of the fault fell on your shoulders. and even from a block away you could hear the vibrant cheers of the crowd as the curtain rose, your brisk pace turning into a near run as you tried to escape the sounds of the townspeople, tried to forget the impending doom hanging over you as the go-time for the operation to lay siege on marley drew nearer and nearer with every step.

#porco galliard x you #porco galliard x reader #porco galliard smut #m.nsfw

[heliads]

Switching Sides

Y/N L/N is a Phoenix, a supernatural who can conjure up fire. When she first meets up with Theo Raeken, he teaches her to use her powers as long as she goes along with his plan to take down the McCall pack. Will she be able to go through with it, especially after experiencing the kindness of Beacon Hills?

masterlist

There’s a pounding in your skull, growing louder and louder with every second that passes. You’ve had pain like this before, pain that’s been especially brutal in the last couple of weeks, but never as bad as this. There have been other things, too, flickers of yellow and red appearing out of the corners of your eyes that almost look like flames. They disappear whenever you look too hard, though, and some part of you thinks you might almost be hallucinating.

Today, though, you have no time to worry about that. You’re in class, and supposed to be concentrating on a calculus lesson, but you feel like your skull is about to crack in two, the pressure building until it feels like you’re on the bottom of the ocean. You weakly raise a hand, asking if you can use the bathroom, and once the teacher reluctantly nods you duck out of the class, moving as fast as you can in your deteriorating state.

You barely make it out of the room and close the door behind you before the pain reaches a new height of agony and you collapse against a wall, breathing in and out shallowly. Even that faintest of motions sends you off again, and you squeeze your eyes shut in pain. Luckily, the hallway is empty, but you still clap a hand over your mouth just in case.

The pressure behind your eyes is growing, growing, and then it suddenly releases all at once. The yellow and red lights are all around you again, dancing in a haze in front of you. As you stand up, though, you realize there’s no way you’re just seeing this in a fever dream caused by the pain. Your arms, your hands, every inch of you- it’s all coated in flame. Tongues of it dance to the ceiling, but yet you don’t feel hurt. The fire is all around you, but it doesn’t burn you. Not for a second.

You stare at it, openmouthed, then do your best to calm down and try to reel in the fire. Slowly, painfully slowly, it begins to shrink, fires dying away into mere sparks. You sigh in relief as the last of it goes away, but then your eyes fly up and meet a pair of shocked brown ones across the hall. It’s an English teacher, an old man just crossing in front of the hall.

Your head snaps up, and you turn to him, pleading. “Don’t say anything-not a word- please! It won’t happen again. Please don’t say anything.” The man stares for a moment longer, then nods slowly and walks away as quickly as he can. You sink back against the tile of the hall, which is now hot to the touch. Your head falls into your hands. What just happened to you? And what is going to become of you?

Surprisingly, nothing happens for another few days. You almost believe that you’re going to get away with whatever just happened until the school day ends and you find a group of strange men standing outside your car. The men are dressed in dark clothing, and you can see weapons strapped to their belts and gripped tightly in their hands. You look around for any onlookers to make sure you’re not imagining things, but you’d stayed late after school and the parking lot is empty in the dark night.

They stare at you as you approach, then pull out a man who’s been hiding behind their ranks. “Is that the girl?” The man cowers, then whispers in a hushed voice. “Yes.” You realize with a sickening jolt that the men are speaking to the English teacher, the one from before who’d seen the fire. They release the teacher, who scurries back to the school. You glare at him as he runs past you. “How could you do this! You spineless little-”

One of the men cuts you off with a bitter laugh. “Look, she’s got a temper to match her mistakes. Don’t yell at him, supernatural, he’s a human and therefore far above you.” You turn back to face him, and realize he’s taken a gun out of his belt and is pointing it at you. Your breathing starts to come shallowly, and you realize you’re terrified. “What are you doing? Don’t kill me- I had no idea what was going on!”

The man just shakes his head, laughing. “You don’t get a choice.” His finger tightens on the trigger, and you fling your arms up in front of you. There’s a sudden tightening in your lungs, and then the same thing that had happened earlier happens again- a rushing sound, a pain in your head, and then a wave of flame erupting out of your hands. The men duck for cover, rolling away to escape the fires. The man with the gun isn’t so lucky- he’s coated with burns and lies on the pavement, unconscious from pain.

The other men stare at you, and then raise their weapons. You raise your hands in turn, desperately trying to use your strange abilities again, but nothing happens. Then, there’s a sound from right behind the men. It sounds like the growling of a wild animal. The men turn around, and then a blur of sound and violence hits them. 

When the growling stops, the men are lying on the ground, either dead or knocked unconscious. Your rescuer turns out to be a teenage boy about your age, with dark hair and eyes like the stormy sky. You stare at him, at the claws extended from his fingertips and his eyes, which glow a gold color you’ve never seen before. He looks at you for a second before retracting his claws. “My name is Theo. I’m here to save you from the hunters. I can teach you how to use your powers.”

That was how you met Theo Raeken, how you learned just what supernaturals were, and the beginning of your journey to master your abilities. Theo told you that you were a phoenix, some powerful supernatural being he’d never even heard of before he saw you. As the weeks passed, you learned to control the fire that shot from your hands, the strange gut instincts that told you snatches and glimpses of the future, and how to heal and fight like any other supernatural.

You also learned the truth about Theo Raeken, and his plan to save all of the supernaturals in a small town called Beacon Hills. Theo was a chimera, of course, not a werewolf like so many others. You had met the Dread Doctors, too, although they weren’t as interested in you because you weren’t a chimera that they could experiment on in some way. You were thankful for that- despite Theo’s assurances that they wouldn’t hurt you and were on your side, they still seemed like terrifying forces that would kill you at a moment’s notice and enjoy it, too.

You and Theo crafted a careful plan for your arrivals at Beacon Hills. You would show up first, claiming that you had heard of a true alpha in town and had hoped he could protect you from the hunters. You would reveal your status as a phoenix, but only after he’d accepted you into his ranks. Theo would arrive about a month or so later, and would help save you from some errant chimera who would attack the school. You would use your new friendship with the McCall pack to ensure that the others trusted Theo, and then you two would work to destroy the pack from the inside.

Although the pack would be kind to you, you knew better than to trust them. Theo had told you all about the McCall pack, and how they left a trail of destruction and dead innocents in their wake. Besides, only a few of the pack would be injured after the plan was fully carried out, Theo made that clear to you. Their powers would be taken, Theo would become as strong as a chimera possibly could and then the two of you would leave town to take down hunters with the aid of the Dread Doctors if necessary.

On the day you were set to leave your old hideout behind and begin the drive to Beacon Hills, you found yourself speaking with Theo for the last time until the next stage of the plan. The two of you had driven your car out to a ridge overlooking some great swathe of woods, and you stood right next to him, hearts beating as one. You glanced over your shoulder at the chimera, trying to ingrain this last memory of him into your mind before you had to leave.

You had grown close to Theo since he had saved you from those hunters, and you had spent almost two months with him. He had been there to teach you everything you knew about the supernatural world, and you had made yourself indispensable to the formation of his plan to gain power. You had lived almost your entire life without him, but now you find you don’t even want to leave his side for a month.

Theo notices your gaze and smiles, a light bittersweet tang stopping him from looking fully content. “I’m going to miss you, you know.” He says, reaching out an arm to wrap casually around your waist. You return his smile. “I’ll miss you too. I keep telling myself that it’ll only be a month, but even that seems too long.” Theo considers you for a second, then leans forward and presses a kiss onto your lips. He draws back just an inch, speaking in a whisper. “Wait for me. I’ll come as soon as I can.” “I will. You know I will.” He nods slowly. “Good.” Then he kisses you one last time, one final time before time tears the two of you apart.

The drive over to Beacon Hills takes about two hours. You play the radio in the car on the way over, head nodding absentmindedly when you hear a good song come on. You’re silent almost the entire time, head still spinning thinking about the boy you left behind. This is the plan, you tell yourself, you knew this was coming all along. Yet it still hurts to be apart.

It’s surprisingly easy to convince the McCall pack that you can be trusted. You recite the same excuse you’ve been rehearsing for months about how your family was killed by hunters and you knew a pack with a True Alpha would be able to keep you safe. They practically fall over themselves in a rush to assure you that everything will be fine, that you’re one of them now, and that means they’ll always have your back. It’s almost laughable to see their generosity.

They’re actually pretty good people, you notice, and you’ve only known them for a couple of weeks. It’s strange- they give off this warm atmosphere, like by running with them you’re a part of some supernatural family that always protects each other. You watch as Scott teaches Liam how to be a werewolf, how Stiles makes sure Lydia’s alright after she uses her banshee abilities. Some dark part of you twists inwardly at the realization that you’ll be the one to tear this apart, to take this perfect set of paper dolls and set fire to everything around them. You do your best to push away that rising feeling of guilt. Theo will be here soon, and he will make sure everything will be better.

Tonight is the Senior Scribe, the night you’ve been waiting for the past month. You all show up to the school, sign your names on the shelves of the library, then head out. Scott, Malia, Kira, Lydia, Stiles, and yourself have just arrived at the school, and are walking around the area. Just like clockwork, there’s the chimera attacking the pack, and just as planned, it’s extremely hard to defeat. Scott and Malia are slashing it with their claws, Kira’s got her kitana out, and you’re shooting fire out of your palms.

The chimera lunges at you, and you duck and roll underneath it. It’s about to reach around and hit you again, and then just as it reaches you it whips back around, smarting from an injury dealt by some unknown rescuer. You smile to yourself. Even without seeing his face, you know who’s just arrived. Man, you’ve missed him so much.

Sure enough, when the defeated chimera eventually runs away to face the wrath of the Dread Doctors, the pack turns to face Theo, who’s standing a few feet away with a smirk. His eyes shift to you for just the briefest of seconds, and you feel your heart race at the warmth in his gaze. Then, Scott asks him who he is and what he’s doing in Beacon Hills, and Theo’s focus snaps back to the pack.

Theo is eventually able to speak in his defense, and although Stiles seems to have some strange suspicion about the chimera, you’re able to convince him and the rest of the pack that Theo’s alright. After Senior Scribe, you head in your car and drive home, only to find a figure waiting for you when you walk in and lock your door behind you.

You beam at him as he walks over to you. Theo kisses you, then draws back to look at you. “I missed you so much, you know that?” You laugh quietly. “Trust me, I missed you even more. I can’t wait until this is all over and we can just be ourselves again.” Theo nods, agreeing, and leans forward to kiss you again.

You’re running with Mason towards the library. Something’s wrong- something is very, very wrong. When you burst through the doors, you freeze in your tracks. Melissa McCall is kneeling over her son. Scott is lying on the ground, chest covered in blood. Your hand flies to your mouth. “He’s dead. Oh my God, Scott is dead.” Melissa shakes her head fervently. “He’s not dead. Not yet. He can’t be dead, he can’t be.” 

You and Mason watch as she performs CPR, but you can’t focus on anything through the spinning in your head. This was not supposed to happen, Scott was not supposed to be hurt this badly- god, the guy might be dead forever and it’s all your fault. You start to pace back and forth, breathing heavily as the full extent of what you’d just done hits you. There’s a slight gasp behind you, and you whirl around to see Scott sitting up slowly.

You let out a shaky sigh, relieved. “Scott, you’re alright.” Staring at him, at the werewolf who’s barely older than you and yet just died right in front of your eyes, is starting to make you realize something about your involvement in Theo’s plans. You start to walk away from Scott and towards the door. “I think I need to have a conversation with Theo.” You mutter, and Scott weakly holds out an arm to you. “Wait, Y/N!” You turn back to face him, eyes starting to bubble up with tears at the overwhelming guilt of what you’ve caused. “I didn’t know you were going to be hurt. I didn’t know any of this was going to happen. I’m so sorry, Scott.”

Scott nods slowly. “It’s alright. Just promise me you won’t tell Theo that I’m alive. Until we get a better plan, I need him to think I died.” You stare at him for a second longer, then nod as well. “He won’t know a thing.” With that, you drag your eyes away from Scott’s bloodsoaked form, and your feet carry you out of the library and towards your car.

You’re not entirely aware that you’re driving at all, just that you end up striding hurriedly through the tunnels to where Theo was staying. Your guess as to his location is correct, as you throw open a door to reveal the chimera standing in front of the Dread Doctors’ empty operating room. He turns when he sees you, but his smile starts to fall flat when he sees the tears and look of horror on your face.

He walks quickly up to you, starting to wrap his arms around you but you shake them off. “Don’t touch me.” You say, backing away from him. Theo frowns at you. “What’s wrong?” You just give him a bitter glare. “You never told me that Scott would be hurt, that any of this would happen!” You choke back a sob. “Scott is dead, and his blood is on my hands. Why did you lie to me?”

Theo sighs. “I knew if I told you everything you wouldn’t have trusted me. This was the only way. Nothing like that will ever happen again, I promise. The Dread Doctors said that if he died, no one else would have to get hurt.” You just shake your head in disbelief. “And why should I believe a word you say? How do I know you’re not lying again?”

Your words seem to cut Theo like a knife. “This is the only thing we could have done.” His voice drops a little, cracking. “I love you, Y/N. Isn’t that enough?” You just shake your head, feeling more tears bubbling up but you can’t find the strength to wipe them away. “I can’t do this, Theo. They’re good people. I can’t hurt them.” Theo’s eyes widen as he realizes what you’re saying. “Y/N, wait! Don’t go. I love you!” You look at him one last time. “I love you too. More than anything, but this is too much. I’m sorry.” With that, you turn and leave the room, hearing the desperate shouts of the boy you love disappearing behind you with every step.

You confess everything to the McCall pack. You tell them how you first met Theo, about the Dread Doctors, about the plan the two of you had created. You apologize profusely, saying that you would understand if they want you to leave and never want to see you again. It’s the least they could ask for, judging by how much hurt you have caused them. Yet they shake their heads, reaching out their arms and saying that they still want you in town. Your powers as a phoenix could come in handy, and your connection to Theo could be used as a weakness against him.

You’re walking with Mason and Liam in school a few days later, and glance over at the werewolf when you see his gaze shift from distracted to furious. “What’s wrong, Liam?” He just jerks his head in the direction of a pair of people leaning up against the lockers. “Theo. He’s got Hayden following him now.” You follow his gaze to see Theo smirking at Liam, taking pride in the rush of anger caused by the sight of Theo barely inches away from Hayden. The sight hurts you, too, and in a sudden impulse you turn to Liam.

“Two can play at that game, you know.” Liam registers what you’re saying and grins, casually looping his arm around your shoulders. Theo sees this and his gaze flashes with pain for a second before becoming a glare. Liam laughs as the three of you turn down a hallway. “That felt good.” He says, and you force a laugh. Did it, though? Did it not hurt even more to see how quickly Theo moved on from you, or the fact that he still loves you just as much as you love him?

The days come and go, each just as painful as the next. It hurts you to leave Theo, and it feels like your heart’s been cut open and left bleeding on the floor. Even though you know that he lied to you and killed Scott and done any number of horrible things, you find you still love him. You’ll probably always love him.

After the Beast is released and begins to plague the streets of Beacon Hills, you can tell Scott and the McCall pack are desperate for something, anything, to do to save those they care about. When Liam pulls you aside after class one day, you’re not surprised to hear that he and Scott have found a possible plan to save the town.

“There’s only one problem, though.” He tells you as the two of you head down the halls. You look at him quizzically. “What is it? Too dangerous?” Liam winces. “No- we realized we needed more people on our side and so we formed a temporary alliance with Theo.” You stop in your tracks. “What? Theo?” Liam nods. “Is that alright with you?” You look at him, then back down the halls. “I don’t know. I just wish I knew what to do when I see him again.”

When you finally arrive at your house at the end of the day, your head is still spinning. Theo, working by your side again? You have been purposefully avoiding him this whole time, as every glance across a crowded room feels like a thousand daggers thrown into your heart. It hurts to see him, to know that you left him and can’t ever return to his side, no matter how much you miss him. The lock clicks behind you, but you frown slightly. There’s something wrong here, some scent that you haven’t caught in a long time-

The light flicks on in the room, revealing an all too familiar figure. Your breath catches slightly in your throat. “Theo.” “Y/N.” He looks just like that silhouette in your memory, the same dark hair slightly tousled from where he raked his hands through it in frustration, same gray eyes that draw you in until you feel like drowning, same light smile that makes you want to run to him. But you remember yourself, and force your feet to stay right where they are.

“What are you doing here?” Your voice breaks the stillness, and you’re slightly surprised to hear it. Theo sighs. “I know you heard about my alliance with Scott. I just wanted to see if- if you still hated me. I don’t hate you, you know. Never could. I just needed to see if I had a chance with you anymore, or if I should just try to forget you, even if I know it’ll never work.”

You feel a bitter laugh spilling out of you. “Theo, I could never move on from you if I tried. Don’t you know that? I’ve tried to forget you a hundred times every day, and it never works. I can’t stop loving you.” Theo looks up at that, a quiet smile crossing his lips. “I’m not asking for forgiveness. Just a second chance.” He starts to walk towards you again, slowly at first, and keeps moving until he’s only a few inches away from you when he realizes you’re not going to stop him.

You tilt your head up to face him, breath starting to come unevenly when you notice how close you are to him. The light warmth from his breath makes your head rush. “I think that could work.” You manage, and he looks at you, that same full gaze that you’ve missed for a very long time. “I’d like nothing more.” He leans in and kisses you, and you feel more complete than you have since you first walked away. You don’t have to leave now. Even if things aren’t perfect, even if the path you walk is jagged and broken, at least you’ll be able to bear it with him at your side.

#theo raeken #theo raeken imagine #theo raeken x reader #theo raeken imagines #teen wolf #teen wolf theo #teen wolf theo imagine #teen wolf theo x reader #teen wolf theo imagines #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf imagines #oneshot

[itsleah728]

Death Won’t Do Us Part

This story has a gender neutral apprentice and is a angst! This story also takes place during the time of the plague plus has brief mentions of suicide (I will put a warning before this)! Lastly I have decided to have you and Valdemar already dating 😉 so be prepared for that.

MINOR SPOILER WARNING! (I did not properly research the effects of the plague so I winged it)

READERS POV. (2nd person)

          You have been working for days on end trying to find a cure for the deadly plague. You and your master, whom you call Julian have been working together for a few hours now. The work is tiring and has only been giving you no good results and a pounding headache. You both want to give up but the head doctor Valdemar and your lover won't allow it even though everyone knows it's only because they love testing on others and not because they actually care about saving them.

        You and Julian are working on your final patient of the night when Valdemar waltzes into the room looking as bored as ever. They have some blood on them but everyone down in the dungeons does. They casually walk up to you and wrap their long arms around your waist. "What do we have here?" The speak into your ear making a shiver shoot up your spine which makes Valdemar chuckle at the reaction. Julian fails to see the exchange as he's too busy trying to properly preform surgery on the plague victim layed out in front of you. You try shaking out of their embrace but to no avail due to them tightening their grip. You roll your eyes but can help the fond smile that comes forwards. "We're trying to do some tests if you would please remove your arms" you bashfully mumble making Julian look up at you in concern. He already knew of the strange relationship but he simply hates seeing it. Valdemar sees Julians strange looks and simply glares at him. Julian seemingly sees this as he briskly gets back to working.

         A few minutes pass in their embrace until Valdemar squeezes your hips once more before stepping away from you, allowing you to work once more. Out of the corner of your eye you can see them walk towards your notes and start flipping through the pages. Not really minding, you turn your full attention back to the victim in front of you leaving Valdemar to gaze at you from afar.

SMALL TIME SKIP~

       After another hour of testing and an hour after that cleaning you are finally done for the day. Valdemar stayed in the room the rest of the night claiming they wanted to "see the results." Right when the day is done and everything is cleaned Julian dashes from the room and you know it's due to Valdemar's presence. Not most people enjoy being around them which is why your relationship is questioned and occasionally frowned upon. Even though at first you didn't like them either, they eventually showed you a side no one else had seen before. They act like your the most precious thing in the world while everyone else gets glares and rude gestures. You get snapped out of your thoughts by a hand on your shoulder. Turning around you see Valdemar staring at you lovingly. "Time to leave, even though I wish I could stay here longer" they mumble the last part and you scoff playfully at them for wanting to stay in the dungeons longer than necessary. You grab their hand and tug at it as if saying "let's go then."

        They lead you out of the dungeon as you walk hand in hand towards your shared room. As you walk a wave a dizziness washes over you, consuming your whole body. Your knees buckle and you collapse to the ground breathing heavily. Due to you and Valdemar's connected hands they fall to the ground with you. Your ears are ringing while black dots poke the edges of the vision. You can feel your body start to shake and all you can think in this moment is 'is this the end?' You faintly hear someone yelling out your name but it's too hard to tell as you finally succumb to the darkness.

VALDEMAR'S POV (1st PERSON)

          Me and MC walk through the halls towards our room when all of a sudden I feel MC start to shake. Concerned I turn towards them only to see their knees buckle as they collapse to the ground. "MC !" I scream as I kneel next to them and check over their convulsing body. 'What's happening' I think as my shaking hands continue searching their body for any external wounds. "SOMEONE HELP!" I yell down the halls of the castle because I know I can't do anything to help them in the halls or alone. "I NEED SOMEONES HEL-p.... now!" My voice gives out at the end of my statement as I watch in horror as my darlings eyes start to have a tint of pink in them. MC then passes out and my hands go up to my mouth. Tears slowly start streaming down my face and a million thoughts run through my mind.

A few minutes pass and I've run out of tears to cry for the time being. I shakily stand, dust myself off, and straighten my shoulders because I know that if want to try saving my darling I need to have the right mind set. Just as that thought passes my mind I hear someone dashing down the halls. I turn my body to see Julian running up to me, he comes to a stop in front of MC's frail body and his eye widen in shock. "What happened?" he questions in a whisper.

I explain to Julian exactly what happened and we both decide it's best to bring MC to the dungeons because we don't want anyone trying to harm or steal them away. I delicately grab ahold of MC's upper arms while Julian grabs their legs. We careful pick them up and start heading to the dungeons. I only have 2 things running through my mind. One being 'how can I save them plus what do I do if I can't ' and the other being 'how do I tell them that they may die from the plague.'

TIME SKIP~

READERS POV (2nd PERSON)

You come to with your ears still slightly ringing and your vision slowly clearing up. You spend a moment to take in your surroundings and try remembering what happened to you. You then suddenly remember that you were walking with Valdemar when you started feeling dizzy.... after that your brain draws a blank. You hear a small noise come from the corner of the room so you decide to slowly sit up. You place your shaky hands on each side of you and steadily push yourself up. It feels as if your body is being weighted down my 100 pound weights while your head feels as if it's being hit by a hammer repeatedly. After finally getting into a sitting position you can see that Valdemar is slowly pacing the room back and forth, seemingly not even aware that your awake. You clear your throat and Valdemar jumps in response. Their reaction makes your stomach roll because everyone knows that nothing scares Valdemar.

You watch with a blank face as Valdemar rushes over to you and starts fretting over you. You appreciate the gestures but you honestly just want to know what had happened to you, or what is happening to you. You place one of your frail hands over one of theirs and soothingly rub it. You slowly look into their eyes and ask "what is wrong with me?" You know whatever it is, is bad due to the way your body is feeling and the way Valdemar is comforting you. Valdemar freezes at the question and slowly sits beside you. They mumble something you didn't quite catch so you ask them to repeat it. You see them take a deep breath and just blurt out "YOU HAVE THE PLAGE!" You can feel your whole world crash around you with those 4 words. The worst part isn't even that you have the plague, the worst part is that you have to leave Valdemar. You can feel tears spring to your eyes and you want to wipe them away to appear strong but your body won't move. You can't tell if it's because your in shock or if it is because you're so deathly ill. You break out of the trance when you feel a warm hand wipe the tears from under your eyes. You then notice just how close Valdemar is to you and you try pushing them away. "You can't be near me you'll get sick.... I don't know what I would do if I caused your demise" you ramble with tears still streaming down your face. They take your hands that are trying to push them away and lightly start kissing each finger tip. The feeling makes your heart flutter but the words they say afterwords make you want to cry tears of joy. "Darling I am no longer human remember? Even if I was I wouldn't dare stay away from you." You both take a moment of just basking in each other's presence before Valdemar breaks the silence as they stand from the bed you're resting on. "I would love to stay here all the time but I must find a way to cure you!" You exhale a shaky breath and state "Valdemar we have spent months trying to find a way to cure the plague and we have found nothing.... there is nothing anyone can do....." Valdemar quickly turns towards you "I refuse to lose you!" They quickly storm out of the room after those parting words leaving you slightly sad. You slowly lay back down with a million thoughts running through your head.

TIME SKIP~

It has been 2 weeks now and Valdemar has found nothing of use. They have been spending most of their time just trying to find a cure for you. You know your time is coming to an end because your health is rapidly deteriorating. You eyes have now turned completely red and getting out of bed is an absolute chore. You don't even want to attempt walking or standing. Knowing that your days are numbered you have decided to spend your last few days with the love of your life.

Valdemar had finally stopped by your room to tell you the same thing they have said every other time, that they have found no new information. Normally they would quickly dash out of the room. They attempted this today but with all the strength in your body you grab their wrist stopping any other further movements. You can see their whole body freeze at the touch of your cold hands. They slowly turn around and you can see the tired and sad expression laced upon their face. You pat the spot next to you and Valdemar slowly sits down. You place your head on their shoulder and with no words exchanged Valdemar starts running his hand through your long/short hair. You bask in the silence a moment longer until you remove your head from their shoulder and say in the softest voice they have ever heard "I know it is not what you want to hear but I am dying and I wish to spend my last few days with you." You think you broke them due to how silent they have become until they decide to speak. "I.....I know....I am so sorry I couldn't help you" they say while grabbing your hands in theirs. "We can do whatever you want for they next few days."

TIME SKIP~

Your last remaining days were spent with you and Valdemar together. Just laughing and thinking of old times, better times. It was definitely some of the best days of your short life. You wish you could have stayed a bit longer just to be with them but your time came too soon. You died in Valdemar's arms just a few days after your talk. Not only did you die in that room but the soul of a demon died with you.

POV CHANGE (third person)

(WARNING: BREIF MENTIONS OF SUICIDE)

The other people living in the castle claim that Valdemar just disappeared after MC died. No one will forget the look of despair that came across Valdemar's face once MC took their final breath and said their last "I love you." Some people say that they have seen Valdemar just sitting in the hallway where it was first discovered that MC had the plague. Others say Valdemar isn't even alive anymore, that they have went on to be with their lover. No matter what the rumors say one thing will always be true and that is that MC and Valdemar will always love each other. Death will never do them part.

#the arcana headcanons #asra headcanons #countess nadia #nadia x mc #the arcana #julian x apprentice #the arcana julian #asra the magician #asra x mc #fanfic #valdemar #the arcana courtiers #julain devorak #julian devorak #lucio x mc #count lucio #the arcana lucio #lucio x reader #the arcana game portia

[heart-of-flames]

Lauren SFW Alphabet

I thought this would be a fun thing to do for you all.. I hope you like it 😄.

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Lauren shows emotion through her facial expressions and the light touches she bestows onto you. Whether it be a small quirking of her lips accompanied by a tender brush of her fingertips along your arm— showing her silent adoration of you. To the almost molten touch of her hand against your lower back and the slight smirk to show how much she desires you. Lauren may not be as open with her affection as some may expect, but everything you would ever need to know can be told by one simple glance into her eyes. Or one brief instance of seeing her smile.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend?)

Lauren is a very caring individual to people she doesn’t know. Giving as much as she can towards them even if it won’t always be reciprocated. So to the ones she loves? To the people who actually try in return? She gives her all and then some. She’s the type of best friend that will always offer you a shoulder to cry on. Always be your silent guardian amidst anything. Someone who would always try to make you laugh if you needed, but tell you it’s okay to cry. She wouldn’t judge you. She wouldn’t badger you for things you weren’t ready to tell her. She would be patient and warm. Knowing that sometimes a gentle touch and a willing ear was all that was needed.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Lauren doesn’t mind cuddling. If it’s something you wish to do with her then she would be more than happy to do it, but if you didn’t? Then she’s alright with that also. If you wished to then Lauren would be fine with being the big spoon or little spoon. If she was the big spoon she would wrap her arms around you and pull you against her. Gently pressing kisses into your hair and against your temple if you weren’t facing her. Or gazing into your eyes and gently threading her fingers through your hair if you were. A gentle smile being present the entire time. If she were to be the little spoon she would burrow into you. Her nose nuzzling against the crook of your neck and a contented sigh falling from her lips.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Lauren would love to settle down one day. She knows that her demanding schedule can impede on quality time with her loved ones but she would always be willing to run the extra mile to ensure that everyone was happy.

Lauren is a phenomenal cook and baker— it being a practice she picked up from her grandmother. She loves to cook for people, because she knows that home-cooked meals can soothe many ailing souls. Lauren doesn’t mind cleaning, but it’s a task that she would like help with. If it’s her own mess she has no problem cleaning it up. Making sure that the mess isn’t there longer than necessary— meaning no one would know it was a mess in the first place. If it’s a shared living space? She would clean up her half but leave you to pick up the rest. Unless people were coming over.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Lauren would sit you down gently in front of her. A pained expression painted across her elegant features. The gold standing out in her eyes because of her unshed tears. An almost bittersweet silence stretching between the two of you. She would try to be as calm as she possibly could be— wanting to end on as good of terms as she could. Even if you were to get angry, she would try to remain calm and resolute. Only cracking in the most extreme of circumstances. She never wishes to inflict pain on anyone if it could be avoided, but she has always prided herself on not deluding herself into falsehood. She would hope that you both would come out if it on the other side still being friends, but would be agreeable if you wished not to.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Lauren takes commitment very seriously. She would be as committed to you as she is to her patients. Never wavering in her belief of you. Her love being an immovable force of nature. Even still, it may take a bit for Lauren to actually get married. Of course, she would wish to but it may take her a while to work up to that.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Lauren has always prided herself on how gentle she can be. After all you have to be when in the practice that she was. Whether it be with touchy toddlers or grouchy adults. Lauren has an aura around her that pulls people in. Makes them trust her. Her touch like a gentle breeze against their skin. It would be even softer when in regards to you. Having an almost reverent undertone. The same can be said for the emotional aspect of her as well. As she has to connect with her patients and the people she works with. Some social cues may allude to her, but Lauren can read body language like a children’s book. Causing her to be tactile when in regards to things like that.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Lauren adores hugs to an extent. To her it’s the easiest way to show someone you care without going overboard, but she also knows how suffocating it can be. So she tries her best to only dish them out when they’re absolutely needed or warranted.

Her hugs are gentle— like her. She would slowly draw you into her arms and simply hold you. Allowing you to set the pace of the hug. On whether or not you wished for a stronger hold. Always giving you a way to escape if you ever chose to do so.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Lauren is very self conscious about admitting things like this. So she may get close to admitting it before chickening out the last minute. Not because she doubts that you love her, but because she wasn’t sure if you were ready for her to say those words. The moment you say them to her, however, she wouldn’t hesitate in reciprocating.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Lauren isn’t a jealous person. On a base level she understands that she wasn’t the only being to find you attractive. Nor does she believe that every person would respect the boundaries of a person clearly in a relationship. The only time she ever gets truly jealous is when she’s had a bad few days— when she’s truly tired, and her brain doesn’t work like it normally does. Allowing her to act out of character… without inhibitions. If that were to ever occur she would become icy and put the person flirting with you in their place.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Lauren kisses with a clear intent. Whether that be her simply showing you that you’re amusing her. Or with a deeper passion that quickly turns into more. Lauren takes physical touch and emotional connections seriously. So she doesn’t do anything without reason. In each one of her kisses there’s an undercurrent of love. Even if she were mad at you and you kissed her you would be able to tell that. Kissing her is like safety and warmth all wrapped into one. The feeling of coming home.

Lauren loves to kiss your cheeks or hands. As they’re usually the easiest to quickly get to, but if she has time? She loves to kiss you on the lips. To get reacquainted with you. To show you how much she has missed you while being apart.

Lauren on the other hand? She has always been a sucker for forehead kisses. It’s just something that reminds her of simpler times. And it never fails to bring a smile to her lips.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Lauren is around children a lot because of her job. She has utmost patience with them, but there’s an underlying sternness that shows that if they were to misbehave she wouldn’t take it lightly (depending on how bad it was). Even still there’s always a warm feeling that suffuses everyone she speaks with. Showing them that she cared.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Lauren wakes up early so she can start her day. There are only rare instances where she’ll be asleep when you awaken. Because of this Lauren usually has breakfast prepared by the time you pull yourself out of bed. Or coffee (or tea depending on your preference) freshly poured into a cup and put into your waiting hands as you stumble into the kitchen. A bright smile on her face as she presses a brief kiss to your cheek. There are times where she’ll have to go to her office early in the morning, but she’ll usually have something for you to eat when you wake up. Even though nothing can beat her meals.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Lauren can work long hours into the night— so you would have to keep track of her so she doesn’t over extend herself. Once Lauren has either been coerced into coming home or going on her own, she goes through a simple night routine and falls into bed with you. Gentle laughter flowing between the both of you as you settle into bed for the night.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Lauren keeps her past close to her chest. She doesn’t share more than she deems appropriate. So she would start to open up to you bit-by-bit. Not that she doesn’t trust you, but she has a lot of things that she needs to work through before she’s prepared to bare her soul to you like that. Even if she wanted nothing more than to do so.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Lauren is a very patient person. You would have to truly fuck up to get her genuinely angry. She can get irritated but nothing remotely similar to true anger. Even still, when she gets irritated she quickly gets through and tries to talk everything out before it got to the point of legitimate rage.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Lauren would remember everything you told her about yourself. Whether it be a pet beetle you “had” when you were five to your favorite meal. She remembers everything you’ve shared because she knows it’s important to you. That you had deemed her worthy enough to share such things with her.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Probably your first kiss. The first true connection she has ever had with you. The first way to turn something emotional into a physical connection. Where she was able to show you everything she couldn’t put into words. Show you how much you meant to her. How much she needed you. It would be a moment that she would forever cherish in her heart.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Lauren is protective but not to an overbearing degree. Of course she wishes for you to be safe, but she also knows more than most that accidents do happen. She would try to help you avoid such things if she can. Whether it be by giving you information on the situation that you were about to find yourself in to simply taking the injury herself— if she could. And if she couldn’t she would take care of you and help get you back to normal.

Lauren would just ask for you to do the same for her. Be there for her in her time of need. That’s all she could ever ask for.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Lauren would put her all into those things. Being with you made her feel so cherished and loved. She would want to show you her appreciation through those tasks. Wanting to show you that she was listening when you spoke to her and that she did care. She knows what it’s like to get a gift that was simply picked out. Or go to something that was simply done for it to be done. She would never want you to go through that. And she would make damn sure you didn’t.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

When she has a stressful case or is overloaded with work she doesn’t take care of herself. Whether that be by not eating or sleeping. She becomes a husk of what she normally is… even though she tries to play it off like it’s nothing. She would work herself to the bone if she could.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

She is concerned with her looks to a practical degree. She wants to make sure she looks presentable to her patients and other doctors, but she knows that depending on how long she’s been working that meticulous care can start to slip.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Yes. You’re what makes Lauren feel whole. You’re what she has been waiting for. You are the other half of of her soul, and Asa is the other half to her heart.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

I could see Lauren cooking dinner for Yule for all of your friends and family. Your children running around the house with laughter permeating the air. Your eldest son, being a spitting image of her, helping his mother as she cooked. With flour and other various ingredients splattered across their aprons. A companionable silence between them both as they focused on their task— until you came in and swept her into your arms. Causing a surprised laugh to erupt from her lips and your son to look at you both in surprise.. before his own smile appeared. Soon enough all of your children were joining in on the group hug— smothering Lauren with kisses while doing so. And the yams may have been a little different than usual, but it was worth it.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Disloyalty and arrogance. Lauren takes loyalty very seriously and wouldn’t be able to be around someone who didn’t hold it to the same regard— or were willing to betray their loved ones. She also hates arrogant people because of how they make others feel. It’s something that causes her blood to boil.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Lauren has sporadic sleeping habits depending on her work schedule, but if it’s a normal day? Then she’ll usually turn in within a suitable time period. Not too late but not too early either. Bundling herself in blankets and burrowing into her pillows as she did so. She wasn’t a heavy sleeper so if you needed her for anything she would be able to tell.

#heart of flames #lauren #sfw alphabet #I thought it would be fun 😄 #I hope you all like it ❤️ #I enjoyed making this

[darnloveablecharacters]

Prove Me Wrong, Part Twenty-Three: Treachery and Truth

Series Summary:  Caithwistë, born from the only known pairing of an elf and a dwarf has spent most of her life in hiding. When an old friend, (or a certain meddling wizard) finds her in the woods, everything changes. Now, she will have the chance to prove the world wrong about her value. A ‘The Hobbit’ fanfiction based off of the following imagines from @imaginexhobbit: This One is the basis of the story, and This One and This One will be added in later. If you recognize it, it belongs to Professor Tolkien or Peter Jackson. But, as usual, the story and all of the mistakes are my own!

Prove Me Wrong - Masterlist

Chapter Notes: Whew, finally got this one up! Took me a bit to work out, you’ll see why :P Italics are Sindarin.

Warnings for this chapter: violence, angst and mention of rape

Tagged: @imaginesreblogged @chevycastiel1967 @rices4me93​ If you want to be added just let me know!

The forest was even darker than Caithwistë had remembered. The Shadow from the South had grown even stronger and it was all she could do to keep her own mind sharp, let alone keep the Company on the path.

They were already slipping into the fog of illusion by the time they stopped. Shaking her head, Caithwistë stepped forward as Thorin questioned Nori who was leading them.

“The path… it’s disappeared!” Nori complained as she reached them. They stood in front of a steep cliff, with no sign of the path ahead.

“What’s going on?” Dwalin growled.

“We’ve lost the path!” Oín repeated in a daze.

“Find it. All of you look. Look for the path!” Thorin commanded.

“No, Thorin wait!” Caithwistë called to him. He didn’t seem to hear her, so she grabbed his arm and pulled him to face her. Thorin blinked a few times as if he was just recognizing her and she sighed. “Thorin, I do not think it’s wise to spread out right now. Take the time to rest and let me find the path. I am not as affected by this place.” She reasoned with him.

Thorin blinked again, clearly fighting the illusions and simply nodded. “Be quick then.” He said softly, squeezing her arm.

Caithwistë smiled and added. “Wait here for me, I will find it.” She promised.

“Very well. Everyone, we will rest here for now until Caithwistë finds the path!” Thorin commanded, resulting in a collective sigh of relief.

Caithwistë chuckled as she walked away, hoping that they would stay safely there until she returned.

It took her longer to find the path than she had hoped it would. She had been out of the sight of the Company for far too long and had nearly turned back to join them when she finally found it. She couldn’t help her exclamation of joy when she stumbled upon it, but her joy was quickly replaced with dread when a disturbing sound reached her ears.

She drew Emel-o Orcrist as a deep thrumming echoed through the forest. It was as if a tight string had been plucked, and the vibrations rang out through the trees. As quickly as it happened, another ring of vibrations called out and she looked up in horror.

Spider webs that were thickly woven through the branches were moving. Caithwistë winced, it would not be long until their makers moved toward the cause of the disturbance. “So, you have made it to the new path.” She muttered angrily, tightening her grip on the sword. Her mother had told her about the giant spiders but had assured her they remained near the Old Forest Road. They were one of the many dark creatures that had driven the Elves north and forced the creation of the new path.

Caithwistë turned on her heel and began to run toward where the Company had been but stopped in her tracks when she heard them. The scuttling of clawed feet, the clicking of pincer-like fangs. She was too late. She looked up just in time to see the first one drop toward her. She instinctively drove her sword up, effectively impaling the spider in the descent and it collapsed on top of her, dead.

Caithwistë was breathless underneath it and she let out a groan. She may have dispatched the one spider, but she knew that more would come, and she was trapped. She tried to push herself out from under the dead one, but it was too heavy. “This is not how I die.” She growled as another two spiders approached her, clicking menacingly. She pushed against the corpse again and managed to push herself halfway out before the closest spider dropped, an arrow protruding out of one of its eyes. She watched in shock as another arrow immediately pierced the second and it fell as well.

Caithwistë let out a breath of relief and gave one final push to free herself. She scrambled to her feet and drew her bow as her auburn haired savior stepped lightly toward her. “That was close.” The Elf said cheerfully, disregarding Caithwistë’s tension.

Caithwistë was suddenly distracted by movement and she released her arrow. The Elf maiden stilled as the arrow flew passed her, narrowly missing her, and into the spider that was sneaking up from behind. The arrow imbedded in its head and the Elf turned, watching the spider drop in surprise. “Too close.” Caithwistë agreed, nocking another arrow. She didn’t aim it though, suddenly uncertain of the Woodland Elf.

The Elf regarded her again, green eyes wide with curiosity. “Thank you.” She said, taking a step toward the first spider that Caithwistë had killed.

“You saved me first, it was the least I could do.” Caithwistë said warily, watching as the Elf pulled Emel-o Orcrist out with a sickening squelch.

“I’m Tauriel.” The Elf said with a nod. She raised her eyebrows as she studied the blade. “You must be Caithwistë.” She said, glancing back up to meet Caithwistë’s eyes.

Caithwistë gripped her bow tighter but still made no move to aim. Tauriel seemed more curious than anything and she simply hoped that she would be allowed to leave in peace. For now, she would play along. She nodded and Tauriel smiled.

Tauriel held the blade toward Caithwistë but frowned. Caithwistë had heard it too, another rustling in the trees. Something else was coming.

Caithwistë aimed in the direction of the sound, but Tauriel hadn’t moved. She simply huffed as they were suddenly surrounded by a group of Elves, all with arrows pointed directly at Caithwistë. Their blonde leader landed agilely in front of her with an arrow pointed directly at her eye.

“Legolas.” She growled, tightening her hold on her own nocked arrow.

He had been there the day they were cast out, watching coldly at his father’s side as the sentence of Exile was passed. She couldn’t help but feel the old bitterness creep up in her, and she found herself wondering if she could make the kill.

The Elven prince narrowed his eyes at her as if he knew what she was thinking. “Kill me if you can half-breed, but you will fall as soon as your arrow is released.”

Caithwistë glanced at the other arrows that were pointed at her and grimaced, releasing the tension of her bow in defeat. She simply glared back at him as he gave the command for her to be disarmed.

“Is this necessary?” Tauriel asked Legolas in frustration.

“She was exiled, it is our duty to uphold my Father’s laws.” He stated simply.

Tauriel rolled her eyes at that and gave Caithwistë a sympathetic glance before leaving the group. Caithwistë watched her leave sullenly, she was still carrying Emel-o Orcrist.

Legolas wrinkled his nose. “You reek of dwarf.” He said with disgust, drawing her attention back to him.

“You may recall, I am half dwarf.” Caithwistë retorted with a smirk, rolling her eyes. She hoped it would be enough to distract him, not wanting to let the Company fall under the control of these Elves.

She was wrong.

“I don’t think that’s it.” He said watching as her smile fell. “Take her to my Father.” He commanded the two elves that now flanked her. “He will decide what is to be done with her. We will search for the others, do not be afraid to kill them if they present a danger to any of us.” He commanded the group.

Caithwistë blanched. She knew that if they felt a threat then the Company would attack, and the Woodland Elves would not hesitate to kill them. “No, Legolas please! Please do not hurt them, they mean you no harm!” She pleaded as she fought against the ones who restrained her.

She noticed his eyes flick to where Tauriel had disappeared before he focused on her again. “Take her away.” He said with finality.

“No!” She cried as she was forcefully pulled away.

~

Caithwistë stood, devoid of all emotion in front of Thranduil. She had been forced into a cell when they arrived, left alone and starved for weeks. She had heard no word of the Company, and she feared the worst. Had they lived, she felt that she would have either heard the call to battle or at the very least, would have been joined in the cells by the survivors. She had cried at first when that reality had dawned on her, but now she felt as if she had nothing left.

Thranduil was pacing in front of her, shaking his head. “Your wretched family was warned, never to return to this place.”

Caithwistë crossed her arms and sighed. “Believe me, I have no wish to be here.”

Thranduil cocked his head to the side, watching her with distrust. “Oh? Then why are you here?”

“I…” She stopped as an unexpected wave of hope flowed through her. She still wasn’t certain that the Company was gone and until she knew for sure, she would not willingly give them away. “I got lost.”

“Do not lie to me.” Thranduil snarled. He backhanded her, hard, forcing her to the ground.

“You will not touch her!” Thorin’s voice boomed from behind her.

Caithwistë let out a breath as she rolled to her knees, glancing toward the stairs in disbelief. “Thorin? You’re alive!” She cried, scrambling to her feet and jumping into his arms as he approached.

Thorin hugged her tightly, letting out his own sigh of relief. “I thought I had lost you Amrâlimê.” He murmured.

“Love, is it?” Thranduil’s sneering voice called out from behind her, forcing them out of their reunion too soon. Thorin let her go then, glaring up at him. He stepped in front, gently pushing Caithwistë behind him and Thranduil’s menacing grin widened. “Oh, this is simply wonderful. Could this mean that you have both found your One, as the dwarves call it? I never expected Thorin, Son of Thrain to fall in love with a half-breed.”

Caithwistë sucked in a sharp breath, feeling sick and Thorin narrowed his eyes. “You know not what you speak of.” He said with a growl.

Thranduil glanced between the two of them. Thorin, who was standing in front of her glaring and Caithwistë who was watching the interaction with trepidation. He smirked and addressed Thorin. “You don’t know what she is, do you?” Thorin’s glare deepened and Thranduil nodded, expression shifting into a mask of understanding. “Then I feel I am honor bound to inform you.” He said with a mock bow to Thorin.

“Thranduil, please don’t.” Caithwistë whimpered.

Thorin still stood in front of her defensively and it felt as if her heart shattered at Thranduil’s triumphant smile. “She is the spawn of the unholy union with a dwarf, and an elf.” He began. Thorin watched him with an unbridled loathing as he continued. “Her father, Rofur, son of Lofur abducted one of our own. Calyniel Aranel was her name, she was beloved by all, but he poisoned her mind against us. He raped her and thus created a child. That child stands before you now. A disgusting representation of all that is evil within this world.” He finished, gesturing distastefully toward Caithwistë.

“Enough! That is a lie!” Thorin yelled. “Caithwistë, tell him.” He pleaded, turning to her. “Caithwistë?” He repeated, voice cracking when she couldn’t meet his eyes.

Caithwistë glared at the smug Thranduil before turning to Thorin sadly. He was watching her with tears glistening in his eyes. “I wanted to tell you.” She began softly, reaching out to him but he took a step away from her. Her own pain was reflected in his eyes and she bowed her head in shame. “He speaks the truth, but only partially.” She admitted before turning in anger to Thranduil. “My Dâd loved my Naneth. He would never have taken her against her will.”

Thranduil didn’t respond, only watched with amusement as the admission sunk in. “No, this cannot be.” Thorin said shakily, taking another step back.

Thranduil scoffed. “Oh, come now, Thorin. Even dwarves cannot be so blind to not see her for what she is. A filthy half-breed, an abomination within this world.”

“Thorin?” Caithwistë asked the motionless Dwarf King. He was now regarding her with disgust, and she felt as if she were being torn to pieces from the inside.

“Take her away.” Thranduil commanded. “There is much for me to discuss with the King Under the Mountain, this filth is not worthy of the knowledge.”

Caithwistë fought the grip of the guards as they pulled her toward the dungeons. What haunted her the most was the sight of a carefully expressionless Thorin turning his back to her as she was dragged away, begging for his forgiveness.

Authors Notes: Thranduil is a douche, I will hear no arguments. (Actually his story is super sad and I get it but… NO EXCUSES) Also, I am SO happy to have the reveal finally. *phew* Good show to those of you that called it 😊 I hope that doesn’t mean the story is overly predictable and not enjoyable 😐 Thank you all for following so far!!!

#the hobbit #the hobbit imagine #Thorin Oakenshield #thorin imagine #thorin x ofc

[theoriginalladya]

Recent ask game, all for Caleb please :)

from this list

OMG ALL?????  ROFL   okay, let me see here ...

💪 - would your character be more likely to scoop someone up in their arms, or be the one getting scooped?

Caleb would be the scooper ... unless Kaidan is around and (probably) using his biotics.  That’s really the only time I could see him being the one scooped up.  

👍 - what (if any) is a good, safe touch for your character?

Oh this is an interesting one.  Caleb has spent most of his life alone.  He’s not afraid of touch, but he doesn’t usually use it much, except with a few people he’s very close with, because he tends to keep people at a distance so he can’t get hurt when (yes, when) they die.  The few who get past that wall, he’ll give/be receptive to things like a hand on the shoulder, hugs, high fives, stuff like that.  

👎 - what kind of touch is not comfortable or generally unwanted by your character?

See the previous one.  Basically, most people do not get past the wall he puts in place when he leaves Ireland.  He’s seen too many people he’s cared about die, and he decides to cut that level of emotional committment off.  So, once he’s in the Alliance, I’d say he cuts off any/all touch that isn’t absolutely necessary for the job, and then at least he (thinks he) knows there isn’t that same level of attachment.

👐 - can your character handle more than one set of hands on them? do they enjoy it under the right circumstances, or generally not?

Depends on the circumstances.  Like I said, Caleb doesn’t fear touch as such, he’s more afraid of the emotional attachment that comes along with some forms of it.  For example, later on (post-war), his reservations about emotional attachment pretty much fade.  He has no issues being around Kaidan and the kids in, say, a wrestling match or just goofing around or whatever.  If that were to happen back during his years of service (read: before he and Kaidan are involved), he would.  So, yeah, depends on when and the circumstances involved.

🤲 - is your character better at receiving touch or giving it? under what circumstances?

Hmmm.  Probably about the same.  If he’s giving it, there’s a reason, some attachment, meaning behind it and he’d be all in.  As for receiving, same thing.  If you’re to that point with him, there isn’t any reason he’d hold back.

🤝 - how comfortable is your character with the ‘professional’ type of touching/gestures? (i.e. handshakes, having a card handy, small talk, etc)

He’s absolutely fine with the professional level stuff.  No issues whatsoever.

🤛 - how does your character react to being hit? are they likely to continue a fight if someone else starts it, or try to de-escalate or get away?

Okay, going to hold off on answering this one as that will be in the next chapter of Young & Proud posting next week! lol  ;)

🖐️ - high fives, yes or no?

He has been known to, yes

👋 - someone waves at your character. what do they do?

LOL  Wave back?  I mean, depending on the circumstances, it could be really funny. :P  (side note:  may have to think about this in regards to his relationship with Coats ...)

✌️ - are there any gestures or touches that your character shares with a friend/team/loved one that are a type of code between them?

Oh, good one!!!  Hmm ... I’d imagine there are.  I mean, outside of basic military hand signals/gestures.  Especially later on with the kids around.  Certain ... things happen, and I can see Caleb sitting down with them and Kaidan and coming up with a very simple/basic code for certain circumstances when they need to get a message across.  (remember, he’s Infiltrator, and there are some behaviors from that he’s going to take to the grave with him, even if he is not longer military)

🤙 - how does your character’s relationship with touch change if they get tipsy or otherwise chemically unbalanced?

Not much because while I wouldn’t exactly say Caleb is a control freak, he is almost always in control.  The one or two times he hasn’t been have been situations out of his control (Akuze, post-Alchera, etc.) and he DOES NOT LIKE.  So, he knows how to moderate his drinking so that tipsy might be about the worst he gets, and even then he’s got a pretty good awareness of his surroundings.  (there is an event from his past he isn’t aware of that affects this, btw)

🤞 - if your character needed to touch someone to check on their physical condition, how would they go about it?

His N7 medical training taught him what he needs for situations like this.  Checking for pulse, treating injuries, etc.  If it’s a life/death situation, he knows what to do and how to do it.  This would fall under that ‘professional touch’ category for him, I think.

🖕 - someone touches your character in a way that’s rude or that they just don’t like (i.e. shoves past them, etc). what do they do?

Again, wait for next week’s chapter - you’ll get a good idea what he thnks about that! lol

🖖 - if your character needed to communicate peaceful or helpful intentions to someone else through touch, how would they go about doing that?

Honestly, he wouldn’t necessarily do something like this through touch so much as through hand gestures first?  If the situation seemed welcoming, then maybe.  Things like ... oh, handshakes, a gentle touch on a shoulder, something like that, maybe?  It isn’t his go to response in a situation like that, though.  Touch has a more ... intimate feel to it (not necessarily romantic or sexual though)

👉 - does your character gesture to draw someone’s attention to other people/things? are they likely to notice if they get pointed at? if they don’t point, what’s another gesture they might use?

Caleb is an Infiltrator - he does things as subtly as possible, so his immediate response would be No, he doesn’t do things like this.  He’s more prone to speaking low, whispering, things like that if necessary.

#meme #ladya's OCs #Caleb Shepard #mshenko #OTP: Brothers in Arms #oh these are good ones! #some are really tough too! #thanks so much for asking!!! #painterofhorizons

[lunarhold]

─ pairing: rob lucci/reader ─ au: witch ─ warnings: smut, very mild blood & violence ─ words: 12.8k

─ summary: a stranger washes up on shore, and suddenly you find yourself with company. you aren’t sure you’ll survive for a year.

─ a/n: i wrote this in present tense, which i’ve never done before, so i’m hoping it’s decent. also, this didn’t go in the direction i wanted it to, but i just don’t have the motivation to edit it 600x, so this is pretty much pwp

It’s been a few days since the island’s been back in the Grand Line-- or that’s where you always assume it to be-- and it’s been raining the entire time. You’ve spent much of your time sitting by the window, curled up under a blanket watching the waves roll across the sand. 

The horizon is a blank, empty sea in shades of grey. Half of you hopes someone will show up this time, the other half tells you you want the peace maintained.

It’s later in the day, the sun starting to set in the distance, when the magic of the island ripples, an alert that a living creature has landed on the shore. You set off immediately, allowing the island to lead you further down the beach. It’s several minutes before you finally get there and you’re soaked and chilled to the bone when you do. A cursory scan of the beach reveals nothing, and for a moment you think they’ve moved on already. But upon a second, slower inspection, you spy something.

In the water, sprawled on a piece of ragged driftwood, is a man.

As you wander up to him, you fear he might already be dead. The waxy, water-logged paleness of his skin makes him look like a corpse, and it takes a moment for you to finally make out the faint rise and fall of his chest. His breathing is rapid, uneven, and shallow and you worry he won’t make it through the next ten minutes, let alone the night. 

As you set about preparing to move him, a soft, unfamiliar cooing sounds in your ears, just before a pigeon settles on your shoulder.

“We don’t have pigeons here,” you ponder aloud, pausing in your ministrations for a moment to examine the bird. “Did you come with him?” you ask, gesturing to the unconscious man.

In an unsettling imitation of a human, he cocks his head and nods.

You hum once before turning back to your strange new patient. It takes only a few minutes and a wave of your hand to get him into the house. It’s already expanded inside, a new room appearing adjoining the living room without your input into it.

Settling your guest in bed, you begin to gather the items necessary to heal his wounds. Other than the massive scar on his back, his injuries are minimal. At worst, he had been battered by the sea, sustaining multiple contusions and numerous cuts and scratches. He was one lucky bastard to have avoided any broken bones.

Throughout the entire    time you’re treating the man, the pigeon sits upon your shoulder without a peep, and doesn’t seem inclined to give you any information on either himself or his master.

This set off alarm bells in the back of your mind, but you push it down. At worst, you would need to kick him out of your home, still injured and let him fend for himself. It wouldn’t be the first time that you had taken care of an injured person only to have them turn around and attack you. More often than not, you kicked them flat off the island. 

The alternative wasn’t something you liked to consider.

As you stare down at the handsome stranger, you hope that isn’t the case this time.

In the days that follow, you keep a watchful eye on your patient, waiting for any sign that he’s going to wake up. After a week, you begin to fret that it isn’t going to happen. His complexion is much healthier, and his breathing is even and steady. 

By all accounts, he should be awake by now. 

In fact, he should have been awake a week ago.

There’s another problem as well: the island has already jumped from his plane into its own. Looking out the window, towards where the water should be, reveals a thick fog. If one were to step off into that fog, they would simply find themselves on the other side of the island.

This posed a problem of safety, since you don’t know what type of person he is. If he attacked you, defending yourself wouldn’t be enough anymore.

There’s a soft stirring behind you and the pigeon, who’s barely moved from your shoulder since the first day, cooes loudly and takes off, cuffing your face with his feathers in his excitement.

You spin around at the sound of a man’s voice, deep and rich and groggy, saying, “Hattori.”

He’s standing, and it strikes you just how tall he really is. He towers at least a foot over you, giving you a once over that could have made your skin shrivel. 

“Who are you and where am I?” His eyes never leave you, liquid silver over cold steel, and you shiver.

“I’m _____. You washed up on my island over a week ago, half-dead,” you say, moving over to your kitchen sink. More than anything, you want to examine his wounds now that he’s moving, but the chill radiating from him tells you not to even think it, let alone mention it. 

Instead, you fill a glass of water and hold it out to him. While he had been unconscious, it had been nearly impossible to get him any type of nourishment. You had risked water, but food wasn’t an option. It had come down to small amounts of broth and hope that he would wake before he died of starvation.

His frown deepens, but he takes the cup anyway and almost inhales it, then holds it back out. After he drinks his fill, he pulls on a shirt that you had laid out beside his bed and gives you a curt nod. He doesn’t say anything about food, and you hesitate to offer. The aura he’s giving off is almost terrifying, as if drawing his attention would put you in a crosshair.

“Thank you, but I need to be on my way,” he says as he heads to the door.

“Be my guest,” you say with a shrug, following him at a safe distance out onto the porch. “But I won’t be here when you come back.”

Your words, said in amusement, catch him off guard, and he glares at you with suspicion. “What does that mean?”

“You’ll see,” you say, waving your fingers. When he reaches the grass at the foot of the stairs, your house rises to its feet. “There are dangerous animals on the island,” you call as it begins to walk away, swaying from side to side. “Good luck. You’ll need it.”

The stranger watches the even stranger house disappear into the woods in stunned silence.

Only when it’s fully disappeared and the sound of creaking wood has ceased does Lucci turn to survey his surroundings. It looked like a typical forest, but there’s something that raises the hair on the back of his neck. 

He picks a random direction and begins to walk, knowing he’ll reach shore soon enough.

                                                      _____

It takes longer than you expect for him to find you again, though you aren’t sure if it’s because he’s stubborn or because of your ever changing location. Regardless, it’s a few weeks before he shows up again, disgruntled and filthy.

“Well, hello again,” you say from your porch swing. The house eases down to its knees, tucking them underneath the rest of itself until it looks just like a regular house. “Find what you were looking for?” you ask, barely containing the amusement.

He glares at you as he climbs the steps, coming to a stop right in front of you. “Care to explain why I am unable to leave?”

You cock your head to the side, still gently pushing the swing back and forth. “I’m afraid you’ll have to be a little more clear.”

A snarl escapes the man and he leans forward, grabbing the chains in either hand and snatching the swing to a halt. With his lips curled up and his teeth bared, he commands, “Explain, before I decide to set this island alight.” His words, dangerous though they are, are said in such a deep, calm manner that it sends shivers down your spine. It’s clear to you that he can only take so much teasing, and you grow serious, much as you want to have just a little more fun at his expense, you can tell he isn’t joking. “This island only appears in your plane once a year, for approximately seven days. You were unfortunate enough to have washed ashore…” You pause to think for a moment.”...three days before it disappeared back here. You were unconscious for seven in total.”

He curses and pins you with a glare cold enough to freeze water. It’s evident that he’s a man used to getting his way through fear and intimidation. Unfortunately for him, that was going to get him nowhere this time. 

“So there’s no way off.”

“Not for another year,” you tell him, letting your eyes travel over the tree line. Like the coast, most of the island was covered in thin wisps of fog, not quite as thick as at the edge. Here, it was always damp and cold. If there was a sun, you had never seen it.

He’s quiet for a moment, watching you with derisive confusion. When you finally look at him again, he frowns. “You said, ‘your plane’. Are you not human?”

“Nope,” you say, popping the ‘p’ with a smile. “Your world is no longer my home. I can’t leave this island.”

The man’s frown deepens, but he deigns to sit beside you. His huge frame barely fits on the swing, his long legs stretched out in front of him. “That’s why you kept me here?” 

Though he posed it as a question, it sounds like a statement. At first, he had been angry that he was trapped here, but the more he explored, the more he understood that the island was far from normal.

You nod, drawing your legs up underneath you as your companion takes over pushing the swing. You wonder if it’s unconscious, and smile. “That and you would have died had I sent you off. You washed up unconscious, and didn’t wake up for almost a week.” You look over at him, meeting his gaze. “Honestly, I was afraid you might anyway. You didn’t eat anything with me.”

All you get in response is a hum.  There’s some curiosity about how he survived, but you feel it might be a bit too rude to ask.

He’s staring out into the woods now and you lapse into silence, allowing him to gather his thoughts. It had been an infinitely long time since anyone had found your island, and no one had ever actually been stuck on it with you. It was a dangerous gamble, given you knew nothing about him. But you would have felt far too guilty sending him off to his death, so you had cast your lot.

Speaking of which… 

“What’s your name, by the way? If you’re going to be here for a while, I’m going to need to call you by something.”

He turns around to regard you, and the smile he gives is wolfish, the change in his demeanor enough to give you whiplash. 

His eyes glint with danger as he leans in closer. Chills shoot up your spine as his warm breath ghosts over your ear, and they don’t stem from fear.

“Rob Lucci.”

It’s going to be interesting, having him here.

                                                      _____

As it turns out, having Lucci around is both a blessing and a curse. He’s strong, far stronger than you, allowing him to take over a lot of the manual labor you had been using magic to complete before. In this way, he avoids being in the house as much as possible, and you begin to wonder if he’s avoiding more than just the house. In his defense though, he tended to get irritable if he sat around too much, so you never say a word about it.

The missing shingles on the roof, the noisy door-hinges, the faucet constantly leaking in the kitchen, all of those are fixed without a word and in record time. Unfortunately, your magic couldn’t make up for your total lack of handiness, and it showed when things broke again after a few weeks. But he took care of it better than you could have dreamed.

His favorite past-time, though, is clearly wood cutting, evidenced by the overflowing pile of logs on the porch. It’s a wonder how he managed to do so much in a single day, but it’s hard to complain about his efficiency. On the other hand…

“There’s no more room on the pile,” he says from behind you.

Next to the window, you had set up a second bird stand for Hattori. You turn from feeding Hattori to look at him, biting your lip as your eyes land on the waistband of his pants and drag slowly up his naked torso. Even in the coolness of the evening, on top of the natural chill of the island, he’s dripping from the exertion of cutting wood. It’s almost impossible to tear your eyes away from the delectable sight, but it’s even harder to meet his eyes when you finally do. 

You would swear he did it on purpose.

He’s wearing that predatory grin again as he watches you watch him. There’s something more to it this time though, like he’s daring you to make a move. He’s only been here a week and yet he seems hellbent on breaking you. It’s impossible for you to pinpoint, but ever since he had moved in, you felt like a fire had been lit for him. 

You swallow the lump in your throat, willing your over enthusiastic heart to calm down. It becomes too hard to think the longer you hold his gaze, so you pick a point just over his shoulder to lock onto. From there, you can see his shoulders rise and fall in laughter as he slips his shirt back on.

“Well, there really isn’t anywhere else to put it,” you say, sounding more hoarse and unsure than you would have liked. He makes you feel like a rabbit, trapped in the den of a wolf and he’s just playing with you before he pounces.

And he was. Lucci was bored, and in the few days he’s been there, he’s come to realize how long it’s been since you’ve had company and therefore how easy it is to rile you up. By the same token, though, something about your shy attraction is appealing to him. 

He’s just waiting for the right moment to pounce.

“I suppose I’ll just have to find something else to do to occupy myself,” he says, picking up an apple from the table before heading back outside. On the way by, he makes sure to pass as close as he can by you, just shy of brushing against you.

Why did that sound so very much like a threat?

                                                      _____

One of your favorite past times is gardening. 

While you have a rather large section on the island dedicated to plants grown for consuming, you have another area, attached to the house, that’s reserved for the more delicate plants. 

The plants here are what people generally think of when they think of witch’s herbs. Spindly, long vines that hang down from the ceiling and thread through your hair as you walk underneath them, screaming mandrakes that could kill you when fully grown, and prickly, pale, glowing flowers are just a few of the more interesting specimens that reside here. Each of them needs their own special attention, have their own special requirements, and this is where it’s all met.

The air inside is humid, walking into it is like walking into a sauna. Your clothes stick to you the instant that you enter, and you’re quick to shed anything nonessential. In addition to all of that, the room is very heavily magically charged, both due to the plants themselves as well as the magic you constantly sustained to keep the room acceptable to the conditions the plants needed to thrive.

Lucci had yet to be inside this room, and it was the one place you hoped he wouldn’t enter, largely because you didn’t think he would let you past him without teasing you endlessly. Plus the state of your clothes was just asking for trouble from him, and you couldn’t be sure that you had the willpower to resist him. 

It was like he was a magnet and, as much as you like to attribute it to the idea that you hadn’t been around anyone in years, you felt it was more than that. No one you had met before had such a strong presence, nor had anyone attracted you as much as he did.

On this particular day, though, it seemed your luck had run out. Previously, he had watched you disappear into the greenhouse with nothing more than a smirk, not even curiosity in his eyes as he headed out the front door. 

Today, it seemed, he was curious, or bored, and so when you hear the door open and close somewhere further down the room, you freeze, eyes scanning the dimly lit rows for a sign of the intruder. But you can’t see anyone, and suddenly it feels less like an intrusion and more like a hunt. Where had he gone?

You begin to creep in the opposite direction of the door, since that’s the closest way to the next aisle over. Keeping your ears peeled, you hear...nothing. In fact, you aren’t even sure he was ever actually in the room. Maybe he had simply opened the door, peeked in, and left again.

Your heart beat slows at last, as do your steps, and you look around one last time. Still nothing, so you make your way back to the previous plant you had been tending, losing yourself in it. Several minutes pass, and you’re fully absorbed in your work once more, when a whisper of sound catches your attention a half-second before strong, lithe hands slide over your sides, squeezing lightly before pulling you backwards.

You actually scream out loud, unable to hold it back in your surprise. Heat immediately floods your cheeks, and you fight against Lucci, though the only headway you make is in turning to face him. 

He looms over you, a wicked, amused grin on his face as you begin to smack his chest. 

At least he’s wearing a shirt, you think faintly as your hand finally lays still over his chest. It flexes underneath your palm as he laughs, sounding far too pleased with himself.

The heat of the room, the scare, and the proximity to him is too much for you, and your head begins to spin. You lean forward, resting your head on his chest and willing it to stop long enough for you to escape.

“Can’t handle me, _____?” he asks, a deadly whisper in your ear.

Your face flushes further, which doesn’t help your head any, and you begin to fear your legs might collapse. 

You’re unable to understand his fixation with you. Is he just so bored that he can’t help himself? Is this how he is in his everyday life? 

Considering how he acted when he first showed up, cold and intimidating and ready to fight you, you doubt it’s the latter. Then again, it could have just been nerves. You have no idea, not knowing anything about him other than his name.

And that you’re dangerously attracted to him. You open your eyes to look up at him, unable to really focus in your current state, but you catch the glint of his eyes in the dim light. They look almost feral, as if he’s enjoying what’s going on right now and would have no issues giving you anything you desire, if you only ask. 

And it was so tempting to take everything he had to offer you. 

“Lucci,” you murmur, your fists clenching in his shirt, just before your legs buckle.

He’s quick to catch you, hoisting you up in his arms with a satisfied chuckle, although it wasn’t completely. He enjoyed messing with you, because you’re so easy to rile up. But he’s also aware that the attraction isn’t one sided, though he’s faring better in his own than you are. 

You aren’t even aware of what you do to him whenever he catches you staring at him, your eyes widening as he approaches, the small steps back away from him until you can go no further. 

Not that you tried too hard to get away; the flicker of hope in your eyes told him that much.

The door creaks as it opens and a rush of cool air clears your head almost immediately. As soon as you begin to struggle, Lucci releases you, keeping an arm around your waist in case you stumble. But you don’t, and push away from him with a glare. 

“You’re an ass,” you hiss, weaving around the couch towards your bedroom. You aren’t sure if you’re really mad, or just extremely flustered that you had passed out in his arms, but you know that it’s because of him that it happened, and you aren’t going to let him get away with it. 

He laughs behind you, and you can just imagine the smirk he’s wearing. “I don’t recall doing anything but coming in to find you, _____. You’re the one that collapsed. What would you have done if I wasn’t there?”

Well first off, you wouldn’t have gotten flustered and overheated. 

But he’s finally slipped, even if he doesn’t realize it. You had recognized the bulge against your back when he had come up and pressed himself against you. His trick had done a good job of scaring you, but it had backfired on him. 

You’re sure he can play the game better than you, but that doesn’t mean you can’t play at all.

His eyes narrow, zeroing in on your hips as they sashay back and forth. He’s sure you were doing that on purpose, and wonders if you’ve finally caught on. The door shuts behind you without another word, but he swears he felt a shift in the air, like things are about to get interesting.

And you’ll be sure to lock that damn door behind you from now on.

                                                        _____

As it turns out, you don’t have to do a whole lot of anything to entice him further. A new sway to your hips and refusing to give him the time of day is doing wonders to his ego. More than once, he’s come in dripping sweat and wearing his shirt over his shoulder, but you had given him a once over and never looked at him again. 

After the first few times, he starts to grow annoyed, and considers the odds that you’ve lost interest. 

But he can still catch the flush of your cheeks and the sweat on the back of your neck.

When he ghosts his fingers across your back as he passes behind you, you barely suppress a shiver and arch away. And yet, you hardly glance his way. 

He doesn’t like being ignored.

That night, after he gets out of the shower, he decides to push you just a little further, to punish you for your childish antics.

The sound of Lucci’s bedroom door opening catches your attention, and you absentmindedly look up only to nearly choke as he steps out into the living room, sans a shirt and wearing a pair of sweats slung so low on his hips it’s a miracle they’re staying up.

God, had you realized having him around would be so hard on your nerves, you’d have sent him floating back out to sea.

Then again, as you watch him saunter closer, his sharp eyes locking with yours and his lips turning up in a knowing smirk, you probably wouldn’t have. And, being honest with yourself, a larger part of you than you’re willing to acknowledge likes it.

“Feel better?” you ask, and you wince at how brittle your voice sounds in your own ears. It’s a fight to turn away from him, and you keep taking glances from the corner of your eye, watching him approach. 

He knows you’re watching— it’s hard to miss the flicker of your eyes as you fight to focus on the dishes— and strolls up behind you, leaning down over your shoulder so his head is right next to yours. He watches your eyes widen and dart to him before back down to the dishes, and the way your mouth tightens at the corners just a little. There isn’t much more of a reaction than that though, at least not until he spoke directly into your ear, just barely above a whisper, “I do now.”

His fingers skim up your sides, tugging the edges up just enough to expose skin before letting it fall again, his hands planting on your hips. 

You freeze, closing your eyes and fighting the urge to tilt your head to the side and expose your neck to him. Your breathing deepens, the beat of your heart picking up furiously, but just like that, he moves away with a sadistic, satisfied chuckle.

There’s an almost crushing disappointment when he does, but you don’t say a word, just going back to your dishes as if you were completely unphased. That isn’t to say it isn’t difficult, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of knowing how deeply he got under your skin.

Based on the way he continues to laugh though, it doesn’t work. 

It makes you feel better nonetheless.

                                                      _____

One night a few weeks later, you’ve curled up outside on the porch swing with a steaming cup of tea, mulling over the last few weeks. 

It’s hard to say for sure, but to you it felt like it might be warmer than the previous day. Of course, there’s just as much chance that it’s wishful thinking. Still you sit, a light blanket thrown over your legs as you watch bats and fireflies flutter in the shadows. It isn’t one of the more exciting ways to pass the time, but it is relaxing, which is something you desperately needed. 

More often than not, when Lucci was actually inside, the air around the house shifted. It may have just been reacting to you, because you’re sure anyone could tell you were attracted to him.

But you’re also afraid of him. He hasn’t done anything, besides displaying a freakish strength, and there have been no outward signs of...well, anything. It was the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. It was dark and predatory and it made your heart race just thinking about it. The aura around him-- it screamed danger, like you would be a fool to get too close.

And yet, you know you’re already trapped, in more ways than one.

Relief is tempered by disappointment that he spends so much time away. When he’s gone, you almost miss the palpable tension between the two of you, miss the way he would tease you to the point you needed to leave the room. But you don’t know if you could survive that tension all the time.

You’re startled out of your thoughts by the creak of the door opening, Lucci’s already immense shadow growing further in the light spilling out. He doesn’t say a word as he closes it behind him and takes the open seat next to you, immediately beginning a gentle swing. Not that he can help it, those long legs aren’t meant to be curled up underneath him. One leg is carefully crossed over the other, his arm coming to rest along the back of the swing, his fingertips just barely grazing the back of your neck as it passes.

The hairs there raise, followed by the ones on your arms, and you look up at him in wonder.

The smirk is there, that knowing look in his eyes as well, saying I know what I do to you. But you wonder if he’s doing it purely to tease you or if he could possibly want more. 

Thinking about it like that makes you nervous, because you aren’t sure if you want more. 

You aren’t stupid. He was leaving the first chance he got. You’re already more attached to him than you want to be, the overwhelming tension not doing you any favors whatsoever. You aren’t sure you want the lingering feelings you would have once he left.

“It’s cold out here,” he says, once more breaking you out of your thoughts. It’s a simple observation, but the way he says it makes it sound like it’s detrimental to your health. 

Somehow you don’t think it’s the problem here.

Doing your best to appear unconcerned, you shrug, throwing your head back as if to look up at the sky, but all you can see is the porch ceiling. “It’s not that bad. Besides, it’s a great place to think.”

He quirks one of his eyebrows at you, the corners of his lips curling up that little bit more as he asks, “About?”

You. Me. Us. You. 

Your face heats up at the thoughts and what could come of them if they slip from your lips. Instead, you shrug again, letting your eyes linger on his for a half-second before they find the darkness behind him. “How you got here. I never did ask, you know. Too busy saving your life and all. So what did happen?”

The smirk flickers and his eyes darken. For a second, you think he might get up and walk away, he looks so angry. But then his face smooths out and he says, “There was a storm. My boat was capsized, destroyed by the waves, I suppose. I don’t recall much after falling into the water. Luck seems to have put me on that piece of wood and carried me to your island.”

You hum, nodding. You had seen the storm clouds quite a ways in the distance that day almost black against the constant grey, but they never reached you, instead heading in the opposite direction.

“That is quite lucky,” you say, picking at a loose thread on the blanket. An awkward silence falls after that, punctuated only by the sound of fluttering wings and the occasional owl hoot. It morphs slowly from awkward to just silent, and that’s comfortable enough for you to drift back into your thoughts, but Lucci breaks it with a question of his own.

“How did you come to be on this island by yourself?” It’s the first time you can remember hearing anything in his voice other than ire or mischief, and it’s surprising the things it did to your stomach.

You grin fondly as you remember the long series of events that had led you here. “I was young, 18 and ready for adventure. I wanted to leave my island and go sailing, to get away from my greedy family, who tried to make me stay and marry into another wealthy family.” 

You could still remember the man they picked for you. At the time, he couldn’t have been more repugnant. Simpering and spineless is what you had assumed, bending to his family’s wishes without argument. Looking back on it years later, you had realized that you had simply been pushing off your own insecurities onto a stranger and that there had been nothing wrong with what he had done. Or his face.

As quick as a flash, Lucci’s image, a predatory smile on his face as he loomed over you, filled your head, and you shook it like a dog with water in its ears. 

Lucci wore the mirror image of your vision, like he could read your mind. You feel his fingers ghost over your shoulder for just a moment, then it’s gone and you wonder if you had imagined it.

“Anyway,” you continue, trying to put your mind back on track. It would do you no good to lose yourself in fantasies, especially not with the object of them right next to you. “Anyway, I didn’t want to, so one night I snuck out. Stole a boat and sailed off.”

At that, he laughed. It sounded derogatory, like he couldn’t picture you off on your own at that age. You frown and lightly punch his arm. He stops laughing almost immediately and pins you with a look somewhere between intrigued and daring you to do it again.

Instead, you turn your nose up to him and continue your story. He only laughs again.

“I was sailing for almost seven years when I stumbled upon this island. The log pose never pointed to it, but I was curious, so I stopped. The witch at the time, Mirabelle, greeted me. It seemed so strange, but I figured it couldn’t hurt.”

Lucci cuts you off then, asking, “Did you not hear stories about this island from other sailors? Even I heard about something similar. ‘Islands that appear and disappear at will, there one minute and gone the next’. Pirates were always spewing that nonsense. Most never mentioned a witch though.” He leans closer then, pushing a lock of hair from your cheek.

You shiver, locking eyes with him. He doesn’t move back, instead remaining close enough that you can feel his breath ghosting across your cheek. Neither of you move, each trying to wait the other out.

You break first, looking down at your lap and moving back as far as the swing would allow. Breathy and unsure, you carry on, now speaking to your legs. You would swear you hear him huff and, maybe it’s wishful thinking, but you would swear it’s in irritation. “Over the week, we shared stories of our childhood, and I told her about my adventures in the Grand Line. Maybe that was what did it, but on the last day she brought up giving her powers up to me. I had thought she wouldn’t actually want to, that she was just venting. But she brought out a contract and everything. Funnily enough, she left out quite a few of the more important details.”

Even after all these years, you still felt the sting every time you thought about how easily you had been tricked. This time, you’re sure you feel Lucci’s touch on the back of your neck, his fingertips or his knuckles dragging down your spine as if to comfort you. 

You ignore it, finishing your story. 

“Obviously, I signed it. As soon as I lifted the pen from the paper, she began to laugh, running out towards the shore. I chased after her, trying to stop her from climbing into my boat. I screamed after her, asking her why she was taking it. She turned and looked at me and I’ll never forget how she looked at me.” It was a cross between cold pity and sheer, unadulterated happiness. “‘You won’t need it,’ she said. I tried to follow her, right up until my feet couldn’t touch the bottom, but couldn’t go any further because the current was too strong.”

An arm curls around your shoulders, Lucci’s fingers digging into your shoulder as if that would comfort you, but he refrained from pulling you close, for which you’re grateful. You don’t want his pity. Don’t need it, either.

He’s silent as you stew. It had long since surpassed anger at her trickery, or even anger at your having fallen for it so easily. You had begun to understand shortly after the island returned to its plane what would have driven her to do something so underhanded. “I was upset at first, because she hadn’t told me the full story about what would happen, but honestly, it hasn’t been so bad.”

“Why didn’t you do what she did? It wouldn’t have been hard,” he answers, watching you carefully. All this time, he had thought you were here unwillingly, but the way you’re speaking, it no longer sounded like that was the case. 

“Honestly, I thought it would be lonely. And, don’t get me wrong, it is. But there’s no expectations here. I don’t have to defend myself from marauding pirates or Marines. I saw a lot of things I didn’t like in the world and, well…” Your head rolls back, resting on your shoulder to look at him.

In the depths of your eyes, he can see warmth tempered by sadness, happiness tempered by loneliness, and want tempered by wariness. 

“Anyway, no one washed up on shore for several years. The island shows up randomly, not always near civilization. I’ve gone a decade without seeing anyone, more than once. It was almost that long before I finally saw someone else, and when he explained that he was on his way back to his family after five years at sea, I realized I didn’t want to leave, or subject someone else to this. I may not always be happy, but I’m content.”

For the third time, silence falls. Punctuating it this time is the warm weight of his arm across your shoulders, his thumb rubbing soothing circles over the sweater you’re wearing. Giving into the temptation, you lean over to rest your head on his shoulder. He had long since stopped wearing his suit jacket, leaving him in only his button down. You had thought his shoulder would be hard from the muscles, but relaxed as he is, it isn’t uncomfortable. 

His head snaps down to look at you, a ghost of a triumphant smile crossing his face, before his arm wraps tighter, forcing you to press fully against him. You go willingly enough, curling your knees up and allowing them to rest against his thighs. Your fingers grab onto his shirt, crumpling the fabric in your fist as your head tucks against his neck.

Suddenly, you realize just how cold it really is out, wrapped up in the warmth he exudes. A flicker of panic, your brain trying to warn you of the danger of being so close to Lucci, flares up, before it’s washed away by the stronger feeling of comfort it brings.

You’re in serious danger of falling asleep like that when he shifts, his free arm looping under your knees. Before he can get much further, you jerk up, pulling away from him.

You smile, hoping to hide your anxiety from him as you stand up on your own. “Ah, ah, I’m not that far gone,” you say, backing away from him. The further you get from him, the clearer you begin to think, and the more embarrassed you begin to feel for giving into him.

He watches you go with an almost unfathomable expression, his face a blank slate; even his usually sharp eyes are like stone. It makes you feel like you’ve done something wrong, like you should have allowed him to whisk you off your feet. But that was dangerous, especially when you already feel so vulnerable in his presence. 

You can only imagine what would happen if you allowed him to get so comfortable handling you like that.

“Goodnight, Lucci,” you say, turning and walking inside, leaving him alone on the porch. Every bone in your body screams at you to go back to him, but you force yourself to continue to your bedroom, shutting the door on your racing heart.

                                                       _____

It seemed like every time you took one step forward, something was thrown into your path and you were knocked three backs. This became obvious to you when you found out a rather big secret that Lucci was keeping.

It wasn’t so much the fact that he was hiding it, because it was his to tell, and more what the actual secret entailed. You very much doubted he meant for you to find out at all, let alone the way that you did.

On the night in question, you decided that you wanted to take a walk during the evening, and found yourself a meandering path through the woods to follow. It was one of hundreds, forged by the many animals that called the island home, but you can’t tell the difference between them. You can sense that both predators and prey used to use it regularly, but that lately it had remained empty, and that concerned you. 

There were very few animals that posed a threat to you, but they were there. Generally the animals left you alone, but even before now you had sensed something was riling them up. It had been hard to notice because there were more pressing matters to attend to at the time, but you would hazard a guess it had started when Lucci had washed up on shore. 

Though you couldn’t be sure because you hadn’t been paying much attention, it was also the only thing that had changed on the island in the last few years.

In any case, you had finally noticed the disruption in the flow of magic around the island, mainly that certain species of animals had become far more aggressive, starting to wander closer and closer to your home. It was unlikely that they would outright attack it, or that they could actually do any damage, but you couldn’t be sure what they would do if they were left unchecked.

You didn’t want to face whatever was causing the upset, just scope it out and determine if the solution would be more involved. Sometimes, the problem turned out to be as simple as an injury, though this time you got the feeling that it was deeper than that. 

Based on the way they lurked around and were attacking each other, you imagined something had upset the food chain. The animals and plants each had their own individual auras that you could sense, and the animals had been growing weaker, although so slowly it had been hard to tell it was happening at all. It had become enough of a concern now that you needed to step in and figure something out.

Continuing on as quietly as you can, you allow the many different waves to wash over you, trying to determine which animals are in your vicinity. You know there has to be one nearby, because there’s a complete and total silence around you that only a predator can bring about. Not even the sound of crickets chirping can be heard, no matter how hard you strain to hear.

What you find is a monstrous creature, and as you approach it, sweat beads up on the back of your neck. It’s dangerous to approach one under normal circumstances, but as they’re now riled up, it’s downright stupid. 

Taking the time to cast a small invisibility spell, you step out into the edge of a clearing, scoping out the massive mound of brown fur in the center. It isn’t a natural clearing, but rather the animal-- a bear, by the look of it-- has tamped down the foliage and torn down the trees to make room for its massive body. 

“Shit,” you whisper, raking your eyes over every inch of its body that you can see. It doesn’t seem to be in distress, no labored breathing or cries of pain, and there aren’t any injuries that you can see. So what can it be?

There’s a snort, then the mound-- indeed a bear-- climbs to its feet and rears up on its hind legs with a snarl loud enough to knock you to your knees. The ground rumbles as it lands again, jarring you further. For the first time, you’re really and truly afraid for your safety, and you scuttle backwards, towards the trees. Even if they can’t stop the beast, they’ll hopefully slow it down enough to allow you to get away. On your own, you had no hope of taking it on, let alone down, so your only option is to run.

You stand up on wobbly legs, only to stumble as the bear begins to charge. The clearing isn’t large at all; it would take only a moment for it to reach you, but you aren’t far from the edge. All you need is that second--

Another snarl, smaller but no less menacing, rings out through the air but you don’t turn to look until you’re in the safety of the trees. Hidden behind the trunk of a large tree, you poke your head out to find a leopard, almost half the size of the bear, with its teeth clamped into the scruff of the other animal. Its claws are raking viciously down its back, its head whipping from side to side, trying to tear chunks of flesh from its larger victim. 

A leopard, you think, watching in awe, there are no leopards here. 

Cheetahs and tigers, along with a range of smaller feline species like servals and ocelots, but no leopards. You almost fear for the leopard’s safety, given its far smaller stature, but it’s locked down tight on the other animal’s back, relinquishing its hold just long enough to latch on again and maintain its position.

The bear is writhing in pain, screaming as it swipes at the leopard with terrifyingly oversized paws tipped with wicked looking claws. At last, it fell, rolling onto its back and obscuring your view of the cat, and you’re sure it’s been squished. 

But then it appears, leaping lightly up onto the bear’s side, making a beeline for its prey’s exposed stomach. Before it can make it, though, the bear is up, roaring again as it stumbles towards the treeline in a clear retreat. 

The hairs rose on the back of your neck as you watch the leopard stand in victory in the middle of a puddle of blood, licking its lips like it wanted more. Then it turned to look at you, piercing you with a set of intelligent silver eyes.

Your heart slams into overdrive when you lock eyes with the cat in a moment of recognition. It licked its lips again, taking one silent step towards you, and you turn, booking it through the woods and back towards the safety of your home. 

Though you aren’t sure how safe you really are anymore, given that you had let an animal inside already.

What had been a twenty minute walk out there was reduced by half in your mad dash back, and you’re out of breath, holding your side against the raging stitch there when you reach the house. Doubling over on the porch, you wheeze out what turned out to be a laugh. You collapse to your knees, struggling to get a proper breath in between your hysterics and general lack of air. You freeze when the floorboards creak under you, jerking your head up to meet the silver eyes of your guest, the same eyes you had locked gazes with mere minutes before. 

“Lucci,” you whisper, acknowledging him with a hoarse voice. He’s notably devoid of any blood, but you’re beyond the ability to process what that means. Your lungs hurt and you don’t have the strength to run again as Lucci comes closer, kneeling down and cupping your chin, but you have managed to get your breathing under control.

“You ran,” he says, amusement evident in both his words and his eyes. They’re narrowed, and seem to hold confusion as well, though you can’t fathom why. “Were you scared?”

Well that was a stupid question. Of course you were. 

“My housemate, who is virtually a stranger, turned into a massive leopard without my knowing it could be done, then managed to fend off an even bigger bear all by himself.” You couldn’t even take on those behemoths. You aren’t sure if it was due to their size or the island’s magic or both, but they’re impervious to your attacks. The best you could hope for was to shore up your defenses enough to keep them at bay, although it generally isn’t a problem. “What else should I feel?”

“Gratitude, for one thing. That monster was going to kill you, and you know it. If I hadn’t stepped in, you wouldn’t be here,” he answers. His hands wrap around your upper arms, gently tugging you to your feet. You stumble on legs still trembling from adrenaline and exercise, with Lucci’s arms likely being the only thing keeping you on your feet. 

He has a point, you concede as you fall onto the porch swing. It’s chains creak faintly under your sudden weight, but it was in no danger of falling. Like everything else, it’s magically reinforced to remain in place. “I do appreciate it, Lucci,” you say, raking your fingers angrily through your hair. It wasn’t that you were angry at him, or upset at his secret. In fact, you can’t peg what it is that’s upsetting you. “I just...I don’t know. You’ve been here for months and I feel like I know nothing about you, but I’m just supposed to be okay with it. And then it turns out you can transform into an animal. I can’t even do that.”

Although you now at least knew what was upsetting the animals around you. They must have recognized that Lucci was different from them but, unable to discern how, marked him as another predator, and were now trying to figure out a new chain of command.

He knelt down in front of you, and even then still remains at eye level with you. His brows furrow, silver swirling with anger as he glares at you, telling you without words that he’s going to answer no questions, even if you do ask. 

You wrench your jaw from his hand, glaring at the wall as you bite your lip against the furious tirade brewing in your chest. Against your will, he turns your head to him again, his face now wiped of all emotions. His thumb grazes over the marks your teeth have left in your lip, eyes lingering just a moment too long before meeting yours. It isn’t going to be so easy to deter you from your anger though, and you open your mouth, teeth clacking as you snap at him.

He chuckles, a low, dangerous sound that sends shivers down your spine. 

“And I’m the animal?” he asks, his fingers tightening on your chin, just enough to remind you he’s far stronger than you could ever hope to be. “I have the powers of a Devil Fruit. The Cat Cat Fruit, Leopard Model,” he says, relinquishing his grip to stand. 

You thought he was going to leave, leaving you with a dozen new questions, but to your surprise he sits beside you on the swing. You sit up straight, relaxing into the back of the swing and are met once again with the feeling of fingers ghosting across your neck, followed by the warmth of his arm.

You would be a liar if you said finding out he had strange powers didn’t sting a little, but you would be a fool to say you hadn’t known. Of course this man had secrets, he practically oozed secrecy, nevermind that he divulged very little about himself, other than that he worked for the World Government prior to washing ashore on your island. Beyond that, you know nothing about his hobbies, likes or dislikes, or even his favorite color.

Then again, you decide, maybe there wasn’t much more to him than that. Like the poor villagers from your home island, maybe he was all work and no play.

Pushing that aside to work through later, you pull your legs up underneath you. The sweat had cooled on your body, and you were feeling the chill as the sky grew pink. 

Quick as a flash, Lucci has a blanket in his hand.

“How did you--? That wasn’t--” 

You take the blanket from him, staring at it in confusion. That had been inside. Your heart begins to race in your chest again as you look up from it to him. He’s staring at you with a knowing smirk, waiting for your reaction. 

“Is that another power from your Devil Fruit?” you ask, hoping you don’t sound as nervous as you feel. That was two in a day, and you wonder what else he can do.

“No, I learned that from training for the World Government. I can move so fast I seem to disappear. Did you like it?” he asks with a sneer. He knows he’s playing with fire, revealing so much to you in one go, but he’s curious to see just how far he could push you before you cracked.

It’s easy to recognize the game, it’s one of his favorites, and you aren’t about to fall apart and let him win. 

“I don’t know if I like it, but it’s certainly interesting.” That sounds weak, even to you, but what else could you say? It’s unlikely that he would answer any questions, even if you knew what to ask, and it’s just as unlikely that you would understand the answer. “About this Devil Fruit, though, can you only turn into a cat?” 

Devil Fruits you understood. There was a tree that grew on your home island that produced one. They called it the Whistle Whistle Fruit. It gave a person the power to whistle whatever they wanted at any decibel. You thought it sounded a bit stupid, but the wielder could do some serious damage if they practiced enough. 

He shook his head and stood, making his way out into the grass. You watch curiously as Hattori takes off, coming to settle on the back of the swing beside your shoulder. 

The hairs raise all over your body, your breath coming out in a rush as Lucci shifts before your eyes, growing taller and sprouting spotted yellow fur all over his body. Just as you expect him to fall down onto all fours, it all seems to stop, and he remained up on his hind legs. Somehow, his clothing remained in one piece, stretched taut over the massive barrel chest he now possessed, as well as the increased muscle mass over the rest of his body. 

Your vision begins to spot, darkness closing in at the edges. You curl your hands into fists, digging your nails in as hard as you can to anchor yourself to the pain. You can hear your pulse thrumming in your ears, seconded by a strange, tinny whistling you couldn’t remember hearing before. As quickly as it came on, it passes, leaving your head spinning and your temples throbbing. 

Realizing you’ve stopped breathing, you gasp, taking short, heaving breaths in order to clear the lingering tension.

Lucci stands out in the yard still, tail flicking as he watches you struggle to come to terms with the odd sight. He was sure you were going to pass out, watching the sweat bead and fall from your hairline, rolling down and following the curve of your jaw until it fell to your shirt. 

But you impress him, managing to force it down until you could breathe freely again. 

Even more to his surprise, you stand, making your way down the stairs towards him. He refrains from moving, even though he desperately wants to see how badly it would frighten you. 

Moreso, he’s curious to know what you’re going to do. He is in no fear that you would try to hurt him; even if you did, there was nothing you could do that would harm him, and you would be a fool to try.

Your skin is still drained of all color as you watch him, like a deer might watch a wolf it thinks is sleeping but can’t be sure. Your steps are light, careful, ready to flee at a moments notice, and he can hear your pulse pounding away, see the telltale flickering in your neck. With his heightened sense of smell, he can also tell that that fear is mixed deliciously with a heady desire.

Unconsciously, he licks his lips, his pupils narrowing as you come to stand in front of him.

You don’t miss the flick of his tongue, already zeroed in on his every move, even though the more primal part of you knows you couldn’t get away even if you tried. It wouldn’t stop you, though, your fight-or-flight already on high alert. One wrong move, and you would run without thinking, more than likely causing him to chase on instinct. It would become a hunt, and you weren’t sure what the outcome would be.

A shiver shoots up your spine, and you can’t deny that the idea of a more desirable outcome, one ending with you pinned underneath him and entirely at his mercy, is a prominent reason.

Very slowly, you reach out, running just the tips of your fingers down the fur on his muscular arm. It’s smooth and fine, not quite soft but not coarse like you had imagined, and thick enough to delve your fingers into, but not enough to grab a handful. When they meet one of the many spots that littered his fur, you find that it’s thicker than the gold hairs, more coarse, but still not unpleasant to touch. 

You frown, running your fingers up and down over the rosette, watching the thick fur fold down and spring back up only for you to push it down again. “The spots feel different.”

It isn’t a question, but Lucci shrugs anyway. The smirk has long since faded, and he’s instead enveloped in watching you examine him. It’s a surreal experience to have someone essentially petting him. 

There had never been anyone that he showed this form to that he hadn’t wanted to intimidate or just flat out murder, and so no one had ever been close enough to him to touch him.

The motion startles you from your fixed attention, and you look up, craning your neck back as far as you can in order to see his face. Lucci was tall to begin with, but in this form he had to be at least 12 feet. 

In comparison to the rest of his body, his legs are downright scrawny and, in another situation, you might have laughed. 

But right now, you feel like you’re standing on a fragile precipice, one that could break at the slightest provocation and send you tumbling down to the gods knew what end. It was the last thing you had ever imagined being shown, especially from someone as secretive as Lucci, but he had seemed so willing to show you, and it would be rude to laugh.

Besides, you were already past it, your eyes roaming over his massive chest and up to his face, roving over a face strangely made up of both human and animal features.

Neither of you say anything for a long moment, your heart still thrumming away far too fast in your chest, Lucci simply waiting for your reaction. Some part of him he doesn’t want to acknowledge hopes you wouldn’t run. The animalistic part he’s more prone to listening to hopes you do, but not for the normal reasons.

He knew, as did you, that if you were to run, he would hunt you down, making a game of it for as long as he felt like it. When he pounced, he would claim you, over and over again until he likely would have to carry you home in his arms.

You reach up again as high as you can, grabbing a fistful of his shirt. He allows you to pull him down, following until he’s kneeling before you. Even at this height, he still towers over you, and you have to lift your arms up above your head to reach his face. As carefully as you had his arm, if not moreso, you trail your fingers through the fur from his forehead to his jaw, finding it soft and downy and pleasant to touch. You’re overcome with the urge to rub your face against it to determine just how soft it was.

Tugging on the piece of shirt you still hold in your fist, you pull him the rest of the way down. 

He resists at first, before relaxing in small increments until his face hovers above yours. It doesn’t cross your mind that the position might be uncomfortable for him, and he doesn’t offer a complaint. You register vaguely how his breathing has deepened, his eyes narrowing to half as your nose brushes over his gently. It isn’t wet, but dry and warm. You move on quickly, pressing your cheek to his and allowing the fur to graze your skin. It was just as soft as it had felt against your hands, if not softer.

Your hands slide up, over his shoulders and threading into his hair, relishing how soft the thick, black curls are as well. He doesn’t smell like you thought he would, wearing the same foresty scent of pine and rainwater that he always had. Of their own accord, your arms wrap around his neck, allowing you to press closer to his thick chest.

His hands curl around your sides, almost meeting before lifting you up to stand on your tiptoes, supporting most of that weight with his own strength and clutching you even closer.

“Do you know how dangerous this is?” he asks, squeezing just enough that you can feel his claws press into your skin through your shirt. 

His voice is right in your ear, feral with lust he makes no attempt to hide. 

It had taken every bit of his willpower not to take you prior to this, but the last thread is stretched to the breaking point. One move, one word from you, and he would claim you.

Your breathing hitches, your back arching up into him, and you curl your nails into his neck as heat flares from your toes up to your face. For one short instant, you really believe he might eat you alive, but then it’s gone, replaced by the distinct need to feel him against every inch of you.

“Lucci,” you moan, so quiet it’s almost a whisper, but his ears flick up in surprise. Fingers tipped with razor sharp claws wind through your hair, so careful not to nick your skin or shave your hair that you hardly realize he’s done it until he’s tugging your head back, exposing your neck to his sandpaper tongue. 

It rasps over your pulsepoint, and he feels you tremble in his arms, torn between fear and arousal. Your eyes flutter closed, so you feel rather than see his transformation, and then very human lips latch onto your neck, teeth nipping hard enough to sting before soothing it with his tongue. 

You can rapidly feel your body giving up control to him, unable to do anything but gasp and roll your hips. Your chest brushes against his, your nipples hardening at the light contact.

His lips trail up the column of your throat to your ear, nipping gently before asking, “Is this what you want?”

Afraid your voice won’t work, you nod, eyes opening to look up at him. Instead of returning to you, he shook his head, giving you a teasing look.

“I’m going to need a better answer,” he says, the hand not locked in your hair slipping up underneath your shirt and skimming up your back. Desperate frustration fills you, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. “Lucci, yes, please!”

“Good girl,” he whispers. He’s still on his knees, his human height much more manageable, and he leans away from you enough that he could slide his hand up your front. 

A warm, calloused palm splays out across your stomach, pressing gently before it began a slow journey up your ribs. His lips brush yours briefly, not enough to call it a kiss, but it elicited a response all the same. Your lips part, head tilting up to follow him, begging him without words to come back and kiss you properly. 

Instead he smirks, and you realize he had been hoping to distract you as his hand finally cups the heavy weight of your tit in his palm.

Against the tender skin of your breast, his hand feels like sandpaper, but he’s so gentle as he rolls your nipple in his fingers that it feels exquisite. Warmth surges in your stomach, settling down at the juncture of your legs. You shiver as your back arches, seeking more.

His teeth meet your ear again before he lifts you up with one arm, still fondling your breast, like your weight means nothing. You can’t find it in yourself to care, instead allowing your fingers to thread through his hair down to his shoulders as his lips claim yours at last, his tongue immediately delving past your already parted lips and claiming your mouth entirely. 

He tastes of lingering blood and you shudder at the reminder. Your nails graze his neck on their way to the buttons of his shirt. By feel alone, you pluck them open, revealing delicious olive toned skin inch by inch.

You’re jarred a little as he sits down, and when you open your eyes you find yourself in the living room, settled in his lap on the couch. 

He had removed his hand from under your shirt in order to open the front door, and it now found its way back to the hem, pulling it up and over your head. 

His eyes rake from your waist up to your face; his eyes meet yours just long enough for him to flash a wicked grin at you before dropping back down to your heaving chest. You lean back, gripping his knees in each hand and tossing your hair over your shoulder, putting yourself on display for him. 

He likes that, watching you give yourself up willingly to him. It somehow satisfies the more primal part of him that craves seeing you submit to him in every way, but the look in your eyes says you know exactly what you’re doing. 

You’re willing to play his game, if he’s willing to follow the rules.

His fingers wrap in your hair again, his other hand gripping your hip, forcing you to roll down and grind against the bulge in his slacks. Like everything else on him, it was big, and you wanted to see it. 

“Patience,” he says, grabbing your hand as it reaches for the button of his pants. He guides you by the hair, forcing your back to bow more so he could wrap soft lips around the nipple of your untouched breast.

You have to clench your hands into fists to keep from reaching up and pulling him closer. You understand that he wants to take it slow, and it does sound appealing, but a part of you also just wants him to fuck you right then and there. It makes it all the more exciting, though, to hold back and let him lead.

His tongue laps languidly at your breast as you grind against him, eyes half closed as he takes his time. He relishes the faint gasps and whines filling the room as he moves to the other one, feeling his cock throb the longer he draws it out. When you begin to squirm, begging him to stop, he pulls away, pressing one last kiss to your raw, hard bud, and releases your hair. “Those shorts need to go.”

You grip the back of the couch and stand as if you were stretching, pushing your breasts against his chest. As you finger the button of your shorts, he pulls his cock out, giving it a few slow pumps as he takes in the view. You undo it and the fly, hooking your fingers in the waist before pushing them down, allowing them to slide down your legs to your knees, revealing your lack of underwear. They bunch at your knees, and you push them the rest of the way down, bending over far more than necessary, so your face comes dangerously close to his leaking erection. 

It’s as big as you had imagined, surely bigger than anything you’ve taken before, and you kneel down between his knees, taking it into your hands, Lucci’s breath hitching at the soft touch. Your fingers don’t even meet on the other side, and you can feel a new flood of warmth down your thighs at the realization.

Above you, Lucci smirks, able to smell your arousal peak. He watches you without saying a word as you begin to stroke him, poking your tongue out to lap at the pre leaking from the tip. Your mouth engulfs him a moment later, tongue swirling around his head and slit. It’s all you can take, and he groans at the feel of your mouth tight around him, imagining what your dripping cunt will feel like. His fingers grip your hair, pulling you gently off him and up to your feet. 

He relishes the look of confusion and flash of fear, afraid you’ve done something wrong.

He pulls you forward, coaxing you to straddle him as you had before, his cock nestling between your dripping folds. You moan, rocking your hips, covering it in your slick. The friction along your already sensitive clit is driving you dangerously close to the edge, and Lucci lets you continue for only a few moments before he stills you.

“This is your last chance, beauty, to change your mind,” he says, even as his thumb finds your clit and presses hard. 

It’s an unexpected roughness, and your hips jerk in response, your pussy spasming around nothing in pleasure. Even had you entertained the notion of stopping before, it would have been swept away in a rush. His eyes are liquid warmth, watching you with an amused smile as you shake your head enthusiastically.

“Lucci, please,” you moan, seeking more of the friction from his thumb. He acquiesces, rubbing softer circles over the sensitive bundle of nerves, gathering the moisture your body produced up. Your body is torn, not wanting to give up the feeling of his finger but craving him inside you.

“I need more than that, _____.” The deep, throaty way he says your name causes you to gasp. One long finger dips down to toy at your entrance. He has no intentions of slipping it inside you, but he’s more than willing to tease you.

It does the trick, your body instantly clenching in anticipation. “I want you inside me now.” 

You’re whining and you know it, but you also don’t care, willing to do whatever it takes to get what you want.

Lucci gives you a dark, hungry look, and wraps his hand around his length. “Sit up,” he says, and his words are laced with so much commanding lust that you don’t even think to argue, instead sitting up on your knees and allowing his head to lodge in your dripping hole. Before you can sink down, he grabs under your thighs, keeping you positioned above him. You whine in frustration, tipping your head. He’s almost where you want him, nestled so deep inside your aching cunt you won’t be able to walk straight when he was through.

You whine as his thick tip splits you open, already stretching you to your limit. Inch by agonizing inch, he lowers you, fucking up into you little by little until he’s sure you can take him further. In your heady daze, you hadn’t considered how much it could hurt, taking something so big, especially since he was sure it had been ages since you had been with anyone. Fortunately, Lucci is in full control and aware, willing to restrain himself for your sake. Though he is a self-admitted sadist, that doesn’t extend to this, and he’s by no means a selfish lover. He doesn’t want to hurt you. 

At least, not unless you ask.

After several long, agonizing minutes, your hips settle down against his, little sparks of pleasure surging from your clit, trapped between your body and his. Your body trembles in his arms, your cunt spasming helplessly around his throbbing length, the only thing keeping you still being his arms locked around you. You’re cradled to his chest, his lips littering your neck with kisses, struggling against the desire to fuck up into the tight heat around his cock. 

“You’re so tight, beauty. You took me so well,” he whispers, licking the shell of your ear.

You’re almost sobbing against his shoulder, nonsensical babbling and begging spilling from your lips, rocking your hips just as much as his arms will allow.

Finally, once you’ve relaxed, he loosens his arms, allowing you free. Instead of the desperate bouncing he expected, you throw your head back, bracing yourself on his knees as you began to roll your hips, taking his cock inside you in deep, slow thrusts over and over. He’s mesmerized, watching the bounce of your breasts, his hands mindlessly gliding up to cup them before running back down your ribs. He can feel the way you twitch underneath his hands, like it tickles, but he’s already past it, one hand on your hip and the other moving down to cup your mound. The feel of his thumb against your clit startles you, your hips stuttering from their rhythm for a moment before they pick up again, faster now as you also sought the pleasure his fingers brought.

You begin to mewl his name, more nonsensical begging falling from your lips in between each call, until your pussy starts to flutter around him. 

His arm slides around, pulling you up and into his chest, his lips seeking out yours. His tongue slides past your parted lips, swirling around yours and swallowing your cries as you cling to him. Your nails leave jagged red lines across his shoulders as the bouncing of your hips become desperate and out of sync, and Lucci takes over, guiding you back into rhythm. The pounding of your hips and the frantic friction on your clit melds together and with one last cry you collapse into his arms. He eases you through your orgasm with gentle rocks of his hips, punctuated by little moans and gasps as you come down.

His hands caress down your thighs and back up, cupping your ass and forcing your hips to move. You shudder and whine, rolling your hips down to engulf his cock in your heat again and again, allowing him to use you to chase his own release. In your ear he whispers colorful praise, growling how good you feel around him, how much he enjoys feeling you squeeze tight around him. 

Your mind is slowly going blank from overstimulation, but you grip his shoulders, digging your nails in and dragging them up and down his back. He tenses when your teeth meet his collarbone, but it quickly passes as you move up his throat.

“Lucci,” you moaned, pressing your lips just underneath his ear. “Oh god, Lucci, you feel so good. I can’t--” You gasp when he rolls his hips up sharply, pressing deep inside you and pinching your clit in the process. 

Your whispered, thankful praise and your pussy clenching around him are his undoing and he stills inside you, his hips jerking several times before he relaxes against the back of the couch.

Your arms wind around his neck and you hide your face in his hair, placing lazy kisses along his throat and shoulder before settling your head there. It’s quiet and still, neither of you wanting to break the peace.

Lucci’s hands wander absentmindedly up and down your back, enjoying the way your breath is still uneven, your body still trembling from exertion. You had looked exquisite as you took him, and already his body is stirring at the thought of taking you again, seeing that wild pleasure on your face again. But for now, he lets you rest against him, comfortable with you in his arms. Right now, he could forget that he was a wanted criminal, a murderer, and that, no matter how much he might possibly, maybe want to stay, he’s already cast his lot with another.

Your breathing deepens and evens out, the steady rise and fall of your back lulling him as well, and, more gently than he could ever remember being, he moves you to lay on the couch, grabbing the blanket off the back and joining you a moment later.

He smiles-- an actual smile-- when you curl right up in his arms, like it was the most natural thing in the world, and go back to sleep. 

Unfortunately, he doesn’t join you for a very long time.

#rob lucci #rob lucci x reader #one piece #smut #lunariting

[rinnnyxr]

-

About my day | Bold what is also true for you :

I woke up around 8AM.

I woke up without an alarm. I woke up nude.

I woke up and drank water immediately.

I checked my phone right when I woke up. I checked my TikTok notifications.

I checked my Facebook notifications.

I then checked my email.

I then went downstairs. I got dressed to go out.

I was in the passenger seat of the car today.

I wore a hat today.

I put concealer on.

I put foundation on.

I put on powder.

I used a beauty blender.

I didn’t brush my hair today.

I wore ugg boots.

I wore jeans.

I wore a zip-up.

I went out to breakfast.

I had 3 cups of coffee.

I had a glass of ice water.

I had pancakes.

I had a bagel.

^ with cream cheese.

I saw friends today.

I saw my boyfriend today.

I saw my goddaughter today.

I gave someone a hug.

I gave someone a kiss.

I pet a cat today.

I uploaded video.

I took a photo today.

I updated that photo to Instagram.

I’m currently listening to music. I’m currently on my laptop.

I’m currently in PJ’s. I’m currently surprisingly comfortable.

I took a shower.

I took a shower but not alone ;)

I have the heat on currently. I wore a bracelet today.

I wore a ring today.

I listened to the radio.

I listened to music on Apple Music.

I didn’t post a Facebook status today. I checked the fridge and saw nothing appetizing. I washed my face.

I used rose water spray on my face.

I used a face moisturizer.

I googled a celebrity. I had cheese and crackers.

I may take a nap soon.

I saw my mom today. I saw my sister today.

I thought about calling my dad today.

I’m not currently wearing socks.

I’m not alone in the room currently.

It’s windy out today. It hailed out today.

I’m really thirsty.

I’m too lazy to get up and get myself a drink right now.

I paid for something with cash today.

I thought about cleaning my room but didn’t…

I listened to God’s Plan by Drake today.

I didn’t blow-dry my hair today. I’m gonna play video games soon.

I’m going to take some more surveys after this. I drank something out of the carton today.

I’m not leaving the house for the rest of the day.

I can see my pet from where I am currently.

There is a TV to my right.

There are headphones to my left.

It’s Sunday today.

I have work tomorrow.

I got in a small argument today.

I told someone I loved them today.

-

1. had sex? 2. bought condoms? 3. gotten pregnant? 4. failed a class? 5. kissed a boy? 6. kissed a girl? 7. used a little paper bag for lunch? 8. had a job? 9. slipped on ice? 10. missed the school bus? 11. left the house without my wallet? 12. bullied someone on the internet? 13. sexted? 14. had sex in public? 15. played on a sports team? 16. smoked weed? 17. smoked cigarettes? 18. smoked a cigar? 19. drank alcohol? . 20. watched “The Breakfast Club”? 21. been overweight? 22. been underweight? 23. had an eating disorder? 24. been to a wedding? 25. made fun of someone for being fat? 26. been on the computer for 5 hours straight? 27. watched tv for 5 hours straight? 28. been late for work? 29. been late for school? 30. kissed in the rain? 31. showered with someone else? 32. failed my drivers test? 33. ran a mile in less than 10 minutes? 34. been outside my home country? 35. been on a road trip longer than 5 hours? 36. had lice? 37. gotten my heart broken? 38. had a credit card? 39. been to a professional sports game? 40. broken a bone? 41. been unhappy about my weight? 42. won a trophy? 43. cut myself? 44. had an STD? 45. got engaged? 46. been on a diet? 47. tried out to be on a tv show? 48. rode in a taxi? 49. been to prom? 50. played a drinking game? 51. stayed up for 24 hours or more? 52. been to a concert? 53. had a three-some? 54. had a crush on someone of the same sex? 55. been in a car accident? 56. had braces? 57. learned another language? 58. killed an animal?  59. been at a yard sale? 60. been to a Japanese steakhouse? 61. wore make up? 62. talked to someone via webcam? 63. lost my virginity before I was 16? 64. had my wisdom teeth taken out? 65. kissed someone a different race than myself? 66. snuck out of the house? 67. bought porn? 68. had a virus on my computer? 69. had oral sex? 70. dyed my hair? 71. gone skinny dipping? 72. graduated from college? 73. wore someone else’s clothes? 74. voted in a presidential election? 75. rode in an ambulance? 76. rode in a helicopter? 77. caught the stove on fire? 78. got in a verbal fight? 79. met someone famous? 80. been on vacation? 81. been on a boat? 82. been on an airplane? 83. broken something expensive? 84. had surgery? 85. kissed someone before I was 14? 86. beat a video game? 87. found something valuable on the ground? 88. made a survey? 89. stalked someone on a social network? 90. prank called someone? 91. spent over $100 shopping in one day? 92. been to a library outside of school? 93. cut my hair and hated it? 94. peed outside? 95. went fishing? 96. helped with charity? 97. taken a pregnancy test? 98. been rejected by a crush? 99. been suspended from school? 100.broken a mirror?

-

2008 was a horrible year for me. Actually, it was the best. I’ve been on a cruise before. I like chemistry more than biology. I like taking surveys more than making them. I absolutely despise the color pink. I don’t have a significant other. I get all four seasons where I live. I only shop when I absolutely have the need to. I have an older brother. I have my driver’s license. I don’t want to have kids someday. I wear more jeans than skirts. I’d rather wear sneakers than high heels. I don’t go to church. I don’t like having my fringe in my face. I’m very much into heavy metal music. I own like, a hundred hoodies. I couldn’t draw to save my life. I’m a very good cook. I always have to look at the keyboard when I type. I’ve had surgery before. I don’t mind getting shots all that much. I’m not afraid of bugs. I love hot, hot weather! I have huge eyes and long lashes. I’m naturally very pale. I’m usually not very picky at all when it comes to food. My parents are divorced. I don’t like doing surveys, but I find myself doing them anyway. I’m addicted to Tumblr. I don’t have a Facebook account. I have perfect vision and don’t need glasses or contacts. I don’t wear makeup when I go out. I hate stores like Forever 21. I’m very much into sports. I don’t see what the big deal about photography is. Or fashion design. I don’t really appreciate art that much. Horror movies are my favorite. I don’t care if people cut in line in front of me. I don’t even remember the last time I put on a piece of jewelry. My hair is naturally straight. I support gay marriage. I have more friends online than I do in real life. My siblings are all older than I am. My significant other is younger than I am. I curse in almost every sentence I speak. I always get straight A’s in exams. I don’t know how to play any instrument. I only know how to speak one language. I don’t have my own personal blog. I’m allergic to something. I’ve been stung by a bee at least once in my life. This is the last survey I’m doing today. I have seen someone propose in public before. And they got rejected, poor bloke. I wonder if I will ever get proposed in public. Heck I don’t even know if I’ll ever get married. I know what a sake bomb is. I’ve tried it before. I’ve watched ‘Paris Hilton’s My New BFF’. ^ Ew, sad much? I think Paris Hilton is a brainless bitch. I celebrate Chinese New Year. I’m not Chinese or a tiny bit Asian at all. I have a step-sibling. I have a weak tolerance of alcohol. Are you kidding me? I can drink all night long! I want a new cell phone. I have my own bathroom. I sleep on a single bed. Nah, I have a King/Queen size bed! I think one night stands are no biggie. ^ Slut ^Prude I’ve been on a helicopter before. I’m actually afraid of heights. My date rented a limo to take me to prom. Pfft, I wish I had a date. I haven’t had my prom yet. I like clicking on advertisements. Pop-up ads are so old school. I recently took a bath. I never bother, I just take showers. My Christmas holidays were the bomb! Ugh, mine sucked like hell. I’d love to go to Japan one day. I’ve seen a ghost before. ^ I’d pee in my pants if I did. ^ No, I’d run and scream. I can write lyrics! I can, but I’m not very good at it. I would like to become a musician one day. I love finding things in sofa cracks. I know someone that’s trying very hard to fit in a stereotype. Every cup of water I drink equals to a trip to the toilet. I recently received my exam results. They were quite good! Nope, failed it all. It’s my boyfriend’s birthday today. He never gives me gifts. He buries me with them. I wish I had a boyfriend that actually spends money on me! I love him very much. The Beatles rock my world. Actually, a lot of classic rock bands rock my world. It takes me a really long while to get to sleep. I’m a personality quiz fiend. I am and have always been a night owl. I love reading Sarah Dessen books. My earphones are in my ears practically 24/7. I am an only child and that’s not because of any death. I hate school and everything else connected to it. I’ve never been in any romantic relationship. I have a lot of favorite names. And I plan to use those names on my kids. I’m reading a comic book right now. I’m listening to music right now. I memorize lyrics really easily. But memorizing stuff for school isn’t easy at all. Math is my worst enemy. I love bolding surveys. Nice and easy. I pick Guitar Hero over Rock Band. I really don’t mind being all alone.

[storyteller-bond]

“And can you believe? You were supposed to die.” 

~~~ IRONSTRANGE ALTERNATE ENDING~~~

https://www.instagram.com/p/B0bp_Eap0xl/?igshid=ys4hiae08qsn

Stephen Strange sat on a chair beside his lover’s hospital bed. Being the sorcerer supreme meant jack shit when your husband was laying in bed, sad and rather bored. Tony’s arm had been taken off entirely, and now he sat with the end of his shoulder wrapped in a series of bandages and casts. Judging from the light pink colour they were turning, Stephen would have to help him change the bandages in some time. But it was alright. 

This was worth it.

Out of fourteen million, six hundred and five outcomes, they had done it. 

Tony Stark was alive, and the world was saved. Stephen shuddered to think what might have happened if he had opened those massive portals one second later. If Steve hadn’t jumped in to help Thor at that time. If Thor had opted to never get off his couch. If Natasha hadn’t made her sacrifice. If Clint hadn’t checked his phone at that exact moment. If Scott, or T’challa, or Loki, or Peter… There were so many options, and it made his head throb to even think about it. 

“Stephen, baby. You’re doing it again.” Tony’s voice cut through the air in a second, and went straight to Stephen’s mind. Before this whole mess, Stephen tended to be Tony’s anchor when it came to spacing out, but it seemed now… The roles were reversed. “Right, right. Sorry.” Stephen stood up, dressed lazily in sweats and a loose fitting shirt. Based on the logo, one might hazard a guess that it was Tony’s, but truthfully? No one probably cared enough about either of them to check on that little fact. 

That was perfectly fine. The avengers could do with having to deal with their own messes for a few… Decades, while Tony got to live the life he deserved for so long. Spoiled rotten by the man he loved the most in the world.

“So I was thinking… How about burgers for dinner tonight?” Stephen mused, as he walked over to the arm wrapped in bandages. They had tried to salvage it, of course. Stephen had been there to supervise every step of the way, but deep down, he had known it wouldn’t work out. Small price, nevertheless. He turned to Tony, pressing a kiss to the man’s cheek and feeling his mouth curve upwards in a smile. “After we heal your wounds, of course, and… And get you a shave. You’re stubbly.”

“You like my stubble.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. No, a fact. Tony knew it for a fact. Scoffing, the sorcerer turned his attention back to his arm, carefully peeling back layers of bandages. “I swear, if you weren’t all hurt on a bed…” He muttered, shaking his head quietly. “I’d-” “Jump me right now?” Tony asked, winking at him slightly. Oh, this was it! Stephen rolled his eyes lightly, shaking his head as he listened to the male. “I swear, Stark. Keep this up and I’m calling it harrassment. You can go to a /public/ hospital, if you want.” That seemed to shut Tony up, at least for now. 

They were back home in their cabin by the lake. The room they were in had dark wood panelling, a beautiful view of the lake, and a very pent-up saviour of the universe being nursed by the very man that was making him so pent up. Alas. 

“You’re a cruel, cruel man, Stephen Stra- Ow! Fuck…” He swore, as Stephen peeled back the last layer of bandages, sticky from touching the openings of the wounds. The Stones hadn’t been kind to Tony, forcing him to get his entire arm amputated after they had fused themselves into his gauntlet, and the whole thing had melted into his arm. 

Human measures had been almost useless in trying to suture the wounds together after the arm had been taken off, too, and Stephen faced the possibility of not Thanos killing his lover, but blood loss. 

It had seemed that the stones themselves, whether physically present or not, had made themselves a part of Tony. 

.

“Sorry, Tones. Give me a few minutes.” Stephen carefully checked the wound over, willing his hands to steady themselves, before wrapping the wound back up with a fresh layer of bandages. For any more intricate work, Christine usually helped them out, but he took pride in being able to care for Tony. Well, more or less. He hated seeing the dark, maroon marks that had burned themselves into Tony’s flesh. 

.

With every breath the man took, he saw the rise and fall of the healing wounds, the bandages straining slightly as the muscles below expanded. He saw Tony there, alive and breathing and, perhaps not well, but getting there.

In and out. Breath by breath. Stephen had spent far too much time watching Tony to make sure he was simply still breathing, he would be the first to admit it. This wasn’t healthy for him, being this paranoid. The moment Stephen thought back to the final battle with Thanos, in the brief second after the snap that he saw Tony so still, unmoving… That he had been wrong with his calculations, and worse, that the love of his life was dead. That him being wrong had led to Tony dying. Stephen just had to make sure that this wasn’t a dream. Surely, even with his mind, it would never have been able to hallucinate such a beautiful life for them. 

“Stephen, babe. Doin’ it again,” Tony pointed out, as Stephen blinked, slowly drawn back to the present. What had he been doing? Oh, right. Tony’s favourite bit. He could see Tony’s eyes, wide and eager, just waiting for the phrase. He sighed. “Tony, I need you to flex your shoul-”

“That’s not where most of the muscle is, but sure!” Tony beamed like an eager puppy, as he shifted and moved his shoulders up and down, watching as Stephen checked to make sure the bandages weren’t on too tightly. He waggled his eyebrows, even, earning him a light smack on the knee. “I’m trying to be professional here, Stark,” Stephen pointed out, though there was absolutely no bite to his words. Damn then. 

Stephen was trying to be a good doctor, running through the motions that he had done for years. “Mmhmm… It’s a little tight…” He muttered, mostly to himself, gently undoing the rough knot he’d done to allow more slack onto it. He paused after a moment, staring at Tony. He knew this look. This damn look that Tony seemed to adore torturing him with. God, Tony Stark, Saviour of the Universe, Protector of the Universe, Golden Avenger, all around hero, was /sulking/.

Now, Stephen usually considered himself a staunch man. A stoic man. A rational man. But those goddamn puppy eyes that Tony could pull with such ease! They had to have some kind of magic in them, because he could never resist them. Stephen sighed, knotting the bandages carefully. It took him awhile longer than necessary, partially because of his shaking hands, but also partially to draw out the tension more.

“/Fine/. You’re the man, Tones. You happy now?” Stephen rolled his eyes, though it lacked malice, and leaned down to kiss the man on his cheek. Tony, though, was far quicker, and turned to catch his lips. Stephen could just /feel/ the smirk through that one. 

And that was alright. 

“You’re my man.”

#storytellerbondwrites #ironstrange #tonystark #stephenstrange #endgame #infinitywar

[hoidn]

if you want to play along, consider yourself tagged.

AO3 name: tree

Fandoms: these are fandoms i've written in, but they're not all my fandoms, if that makes sense. i've written quite a few things in exchanges just because i was familiar enough with the canon to take a pinch-hit or because i didn't know what i was getting myself into.

Longmire (TV), The X-Files, Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen, Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman, House M.D., Star Trek: Voyager, Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, The X-Files RPF, The Cutting Edge (1992), Blade (Movie Series), Northanger Abbey - Jane Austen, Hannibal (TV), Girl with a Pearl Earring - All Media Types, Lady of the Shard (Webcomic), The Fionavar Tapestry - Guy Gavriel Kay, The Wake - Paul Kingsnorth, Battlestar Galactica (2003), Stranger Than Fiction, Charlotte Gray (2001), Green Gables Fables, Firefly, Star Trek: The Next Generation, Ibis Trilogy - Amitav Ghosh, Octopus Steals My Video Camera and Swims off with It While It's Recording (Short Film), Gilmore Girls, The Middleman (TV), Fairy Tales & Related Fandoms, JAG (TV 1995), Hamlet - Shakespeare, The Fall (TV 2013), The Abyss (1989)

the fandoms i haven’t yet posted anything for are many and varied, and any WIPs that may exist for them will likely die with me, which is probably a very good thing.

Number of fics: 94 (?!!)

Fic you spent the most time on: no friggin' idea. i sometimes spend weeks just trying to get one paragraph right and then write two thousand words the next day which need very little editing. it might take me over a year to write something from start to finish that's not much more than a thousand words, but how much of that span of time was spent actually working on that particular fic isn't something i keep track of.

Fic you spent the least time on: hope falls harder — it's one sentence; i spent longer scraping together the title and summary than i did writing the work. in my defence it's in a made-up language that only exists in the text, so it was a difficult sentence.

Longest fic: some wild and necessary hunger with 24,606 words. because of course a trope i didn't like at all until i discovered i liked it in very specific contexts turned itself into my longest fic. of fucking course.

Shortest fic: hope falls harder with 41 words. however, since it's the only fic anywhere ever for this canon, i still win the prize for the longest fic in the fandom.

Most hits: A Wild and Distant Shore with 32,785 hits. fork me. that is terrifying. (what's interesting is that to suppose the truth of it possible has the next highest number at 30,440 and it was written nine years later, so it's accrued hits at a much faster rate than my older P&P fics, but it doesn't even make it into the top 5 by kudos. so a lot of hits but fewer people like it? i'm so curious!)

Most kudos: A Wild and Distant Shore with 1,084 kudos. folks continue to dig the P&P smut.

Most comment threads: if you came this way with 80 threads, but it's an extreme outlier. the next three highest are in the mid-low 30s, which i think is more indicative.

Fave fic you wrote: within the last few years, probably Darlin', everything's on fire (with Through Worlds as a close runner-up). i am genuinely proud of my zombie apocalypse AU. i think it's one of the best things i've ever written.

Fic you want to rewrite/expand on: as @sarking said, "I’m not a rewriter – it’s hard enough to get something out of me once, or to get a draft and a finished product out of me." i'm also not an expander, with one recent exception. when i write a fic, i tell the story i've got to tell and then there's no more. that said, someone once mentioned they'd like to read chakotay's side of if you came this way and my brain mulled over that to the extent that it's got a title (no mean feat) and its own document, and i've actually noodled a bit at it.

(noodling is, of course, a different process to writing; noodling is to writing what doodling is to drawing. although to continue the alliterative parallels i suppose it should be 'woodling', but as that just looks ridiculous, let's not.)

however, there are many barriers to this fic's completion, among other things that it's daunting trying to match myself. even while i was in the process of writing it, i knew if you came this way was something special. not necessarily the best thing i've ever written in strict terms, but certainly the most joyful in process (at least up until the very end). which isn't to say it was easy, just that somehow all the stars aligned so that my love of the characters and my love of language combined into something wonderful and the process itself became a celebration of that love. oh my god it sounds like i was on acid or something at the time, but i wasn't. just my usual cocktail of crazy meds.

Share a bit of your WIP or share a story idea that you’re planning: i'm knee-deep in my het big bang fic that won't quit and is definitely not the fic i had intended to write hahahaha. it's for That Show I Can't Stop Making GIFs For Or Writing Fic For Apparently. but! i'm also noodling away at a J/C voyager fic for the kind soul who bid on me in the fandom for australia auction. this may or may not be the final version, given that i haven't written the lead-up yet and i haven't written these characters at all in some time, but i quite like it as it stands, so here we go.

"It has to be me," she said.

"Captain—"

A single raised hand forestalled his protest.

"I've already had this argument with Tuvok. Please don't make me repeat the experience, Commander." She strode a restless to-and-fro across the Ready Room. "Perhaps it makes me a prude but I believe that sex is a private act, not a performance."

"It doesn't make you a prude."

Janeway carried on as if she hadn't heard, her eloquent hands in agitated motion. "And how can I, in good conscience, order someone to... to... perform?"

It was a split-second decision, instinctive.

"You won't have to order anyone, Captain."

She stopped, frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I'm volunteering for this mission."

Her whole face softened into gentle distress. "Oh, Chakotay. I can't ask that of you."

"You're not asking. I'm offering."

#meme sheep #writing is more surprise than certainty #sometimes i write things