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a-d-nox · 5 months

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wyrd web: what to gift a person based these three numbers

this is just a theory of mine because these bubbles of the matrix should represent earthly desires. this is not to say that you can't enjoy things not listed in your category / under your energetic number. this is simply what i believe people with these numbers would enjoy receiving as a gift.

1 - the magician

flowers / garden seeds, gear for their passion project(s), business/self-help books, a tarot/astrology/mediumship reading, art supplies, things that are homemade/artisanal, careof for brain support, things for their computer or car, a diary or journal (moleskine), sunglasses or blue-light glasses, joke books (for the dads with 1 placements here), paid classes, rosetta stone subscription, genetic tests (ancestry.com or 23&me), manicure/pedicure voucher, merchandise from their favorite singer / group / tv show / movie, mittens / fingerless gloves, house plant, sewing/knitting/crocheting supplies, stationary, or tickets to a concert

2 - the high priestess

things that support their spiritual practices, things that support feminine health (hum women's probiotics bundle, honey pot oral vaginal care probiotic, etc), bake goods / baking gear, barbecue sauce sampler / grilling gear (for the dads pt 2), bar in a jar (for those of drinking age) or really any beverage tester kit, bath/spa kit, beach vacation, boat, cruise, careof for brain support, truly nice melons boob butter, candles (it doesn't have to be yankee candle either - bent candles, spiced votive candle, etc) or candle making kit, imported cheeses, clothing staples (blue jeans, black turtleneck, etc), juice cleanse or other things that support digestive health, cooking classes or meal kits (hellofresh, homechef, etc), a tarot/astrology/mediumship reading, or outdoor cameras or other home security tools

3 - the empress

pillows, stuffed animals, rose quartz, personal celebrity cameo, clothing, tickets for an art museum tour, ballet tickets or classes, art supplies, makeup pallets and/or brushes, flowers, jewelry, candy/sweets, money, bells / wind chimes, clothing, designer pieces, cosmetics, dolls, a trip to a fancy restaurant, fruit basket / dried fruits, gardening supplies, jewelry, concert/orchestra tickets, poetry book, tickets to a play, a purse, lingerie (if y'all are close like that), trip to a vineyard (for those of drinking age), couples' dancing classes, or a wallet

4 - the emperor

skincare, rock climbing voucher or some other physical activity they enjoy, an adrenaline rush activity (skydiving, bungee jumping, etc), careof for brain support, crafted wooden objects (cutting boards, tables, etc), coffee trials/samplers, sunglasses, blue light glasses, hair care products/supplies, scalp treatments/care, oral health care (thera breath, whitening products, etc), meditation app subscriptions / in person sessions for meditation, or a planner

5 - the hierophant

moss agate (don't question how random that sounds this is some intuitive stuff), artwork, an architectural tour, beauty products/supplies, historically significant objects, pastries or sweets/candies, earrings, sour dough starter kit, jewelry in general, piano/organ lessons, singing lessons, a wallet, or any classes where they can learn something fun and new to them

6 - the lovers

car stuff (seat covers, cup holder coasters, etc), bicycle or bicycle accessories/gear, books (the more educational the better), briefcase / work tote, bus tickets for a day trip, gym membership or soulcycle classes, crystals, a standing desk / cute office supplies (for the work girlies both those who work in office and from home), hand & foot message, manicure voucher, newspaper subscription (i am a fan of new york times, washington post, and the new yorker), language classes or rosetta stone subscription, magazines subscription, merchandise from their favorite singer / group / tv show / movie, train trip, or we're not really strangers card packs

7 - the chariot

gardening supplies, hermit crab, baked goods, bath products / beauty products, boat, cruise, car stuff (seat covers, cup holder coasters, etc), truly nice melons boob butter, juice cleanse, gut health thrive market kit, glassware / blown glass, stuff they need / need for their home (security system, chest freezer, etc), hotel or bed & breakfast stay, kitchenware, lake trip, pearls, real estate / land, restaurant voucher / gift card, silver jewelry, shopping gift cards, a trip, or intention journal

8 - strength

amusement park tickets, supplies for their passion projects, ballroom dancing classes, tea sampler, games (video games or board games), movie theater gift card, personal celebrity cameo, flower garden supplies/seeds, stuff for their pet, or a belt

9 - the hermit

pet related gifts (if they have a pet that is), bookshelves (they probably need one), juice cleanse, gut health thrive market kit, a cat, clothing, oral health products (thera breath, whitening products, etc), stationary, emergency preparedness (ready to eat meals, fire blanket, etc), cook books, dining ware (new plates/bowls, cups / glassware, silverware, etc), food subscriptions (home chef, hello fresh, pickle of the month club, bokksu japanese snack box, etc), careof subscription, gloves, herb garden kit, a one way ticket to anywhere, or a hiking trip

10 - wheel of fortune

incense, cleansing herbs, bow and arrow, sapling, land, dried berries, budget book, gym/exercise membership, religious/spiritual/philosophical books, poker set, cloth (if they like sowing), wool (if they like weaving, crocheting, and/or knitting), wool clothing, a coat, trip to a country or place they have never been, oral health products (thera breath, whitening products, etc), etiquette classes/books (this is great for the traveler because they are often interested in learning customs before going on their trip), figs, fruit basket (like edible arrangements), honey sampler / royal jelly, horseback riding lessons, lottery tickets, merchandise from their favorite singer / group/ tv show / movie, shoes, really any game, any subscription they have not tried, things that support their spiritual practices, or book on positive mindset

11 - justice

personal celebrity cameo, tickets to a ballet or to an art gallery, air purifier, portable heating pad, spa voucher, cosmetics, lingerie (if y'all are close), closet organizational items (space saving hangers, linen bins, accessory hanger, etc), pastries and sweets, diamonds (perhaps propose to your lover), a dress, tickets to a fashion show or exhibit, flowers, a luxury chair, jewelry, concert tickets, poetry books, any quartz pieces, chocolates dipped strawberries, hair extensions, logic puzzles, a voucher for an escape room, or a kitchen/baking scale

12 - the hanged man

bar in a jar (if they are of drinking age), a book on angel numbers, a book on natural medical remedies, ballet classes or tickets to see a ballet, bath bombs and other bath goodies (salt, bath table, candles, sugar scrub, bath teas, etc), beach vacation, tea or coffee sampler, butterfly farm kit with caterpillars, disposable camera or a camera they would like (polaroid, filming, etc), scientific kits (geode kit, grow your own crystals, etc), cigars (for the dads in your life), unsolved mysteries or crime kit, dance classes, smutty/romance/fantasy books, fairy garden, a tarot/astrology/mediumship reading, budget book, makeup palettes or other cosmetic they enjoy, concert tickets, paint, poetry books, clue the board game, a pass to an indoor pool, a book on poppet making, meditation membership or a voucher for in-person sessions, or something to support their curiosity for new spiritual insight

13 - death

hermit crab, a jumping spider, a reptile, homeopathic books for natural cures and remedies, operation the game, butcherbox subscription, a book on how to cook and trim meats, beginners chemistry kit, a colon cleanse, sea monkeys, unsolved mysteries or crime kit, philosophy of death books, books on magic, magic the gathering the card game, period products (portable heating pad, the diva cup, etc), poisonous plants (belladonna, foxglove, lily of the valley, etc), a frog pond, a scorpion, a snake, a burr/boo basket (these people love seasonal stuff), or marie kondo's life changing magic of tidying up

14 - temperance

a hunting trip, bow and arrows, books on religion or philosophy, book of devotions, book on dream meanings (hello, freud haha), a certification course or college class, horseback riding lessons (for the newbie or a younger sibling or your child/niece/nephew), horse drawn carriage ride (for the couples *smirk*), logic puzzles, things that support their goals, or a book of angel number meanings

15 - the devil

a fan or air conditioning unit, if you have the land for it a cow/horse/goat, kinetic tape, arnicare bruise cream (this is a joke... unless...), coal or a diamond (this is also a joke... unless...), a clock or a watch, cuticle trimmer (and other nail care things), room darkening curtains, a happy lamp, lotion/cream, hat/scarf/gloves, hair products (extensions, shampoo subscription, etc), leather fashion-ware, gardening supplies, ice maker, or a juice cleanse

16 - the tower

tiger balm or other pain relieving ointment, acrobatic/gymnastic classes, homeopathic books for natural cures and remedies, first-aid kit, baking kits, barbecue sauce sampler, barbecue sauce sampler / grilling gear (for the dads), gift card for haircut, dollar shave club (for the dads pt 2), metal works (spoon handle rings, metal roses, etc), boxing lessons, boxing match tickets or monster truck tickets, butcherbox subscription, a book on how to cook and trim meats, crafted wooden objects (cutting boards, tables, etc), cactus plant, beginners chemistry kit, cookbook, pocket knife or leatherman/multitool, tool kit, jenga, emergency kit, food, first aid kit, merchandise for their favorite superhero(es), electric lighter, liqour or bar in a jar (if they are of drinking age), rock music (a vinyl or concert tickets), pepper plant, pipe for smoking (if they like to smoke that is - my grandfather had a collection), lego kit, or lincoln logs

17 - the star

friendship bracelets, a fan / ac unit, model airplane, flight lessons, compression stockings/socks, architectural tour, astrology reading, car stuff (seat covers, cup holder coasters, etc), club memberships (golf, racket ball, sam's, etc), electronic devices (a new phone, amazon fire stick, solar portable charger, etc), movie on blue-ray or dvd, movie gift card, a camera (polaroid or another type they have been eyeing), disposable cameras, camera gear, shadow work journal, aesthetically pleasing bluetooth retro radio, streaming service subscription, a book on health or mental health, or a book on positivity

18 - the moon

abstract art, bar in a jar (if they are of legal age), a fish, a fish tank, tickets to an aquarium, cocktail book (if they are of legal age), a fishing trip (for the dads), book of conspiracy theories, the conspiracy theory map, a crystal ball, unsolved mysteries or crime kit, a jellyfish, a tarot/astrology/mediumship reading, a camera (polaroid or another type they have been eyeing), disposable cameras, camera gear, poetry book, hydroponic starter system, games that involve bluffing (clue, poker, herd mentality, etc), shoes, sleeping eye mask, silk pillow cases, new bed sheets, bonnet, socks, a computer keyboard, typewriter, a book on shadow work, a puppy, or a book on dream meanings

19 - the sun

maine coon, autobiographical books, ballroom dancing lessons, poker set, oral health products (thera breath, whitening products, etc), card games, personal celebrity cameo, circus fruit basket, chocolate gold coins, classes that encourage creativity (create it and break it sessions, pottery classes, etc), jewelry or an engagement ring (if it's been more than 2 years y'all should know what you are doing at this point), flowers, indoor herb garden, tickets to race of some sort (cars, horse, sporting events, etc), sporting equipment, ivy plant, a pottery painting voucher / gift certificate, or something for their passion project / hobby

20 - judgment

a reptile, ant farm, a guide on astral projection, operation the game, the chameleon game, clue game, unsolved case files game, grand theft auto video game, assassins creed video game, dungeons and dragons the game, yahtzee, emergency preparedness kit, magician kit, poisonous plants (belladonna, foxglove, lily of the valley, etc), the divine comedy, puzzles, a rodent of some sort, or lingerie (if y'all are close)

21 - the world

gardening supplies, acoustic guitar, air conditioning or fan, architectural tour, teddy bear, snow globe, boots, calendar or planner, supergoop (sun protectant) products, wooden objects (cutting board, chest, box, etc), carpet, clay (air drying or via kiln), a clock or watch, compression stockings/socks, collectible coins, pain patches or kinetic tape, crystals, budget book, lotions for dry skin, dried fruits, gloves/mittens, hair care products, ice machine or ice making trays, ice cream subscription, pottery classes, rain coat, real estate or land, zen sand garden, sculpture, or snake

22 - the fool

flight lessons, model airplane, a flight to anywhere, car stuff (seat covers, cup holder coasters, etc), an astrology reading, bath products, biking gear, movie theatre gift card, clock or watch, club memberships (golf, racket ball, sam's, etc), mood lighting or strip lights, a train ride, fun magnets, motorcycle accessories/training, microphone (maybe they are filming or recording something), patterns for cross stitch / knitting / crocheting, a camera (polaroid or another type they have been eyeing), disposable cameras, camera gear, stuff for the tv (surround sound, sound bar, streaming subscription, etc), or classes for one of their interests

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partially-controlled-chaos · 2 days

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Indulgence

Pairing: Halsin x GN!Reader

Rating: T

Warnings: No spicy moments, but implied horny Halsin.

Summary: Halsin has always struggled with indulging in the more pleasurable aspects of life. However, with the shadow curse lifted and your group now on the road to Baldur's Gate, you and Halsin find time to indulge in a bit of fun and a sweet treat before retiring for the evening.

Word Count: 9.3K

an: It took me too many weeks, but I finally have the fully fleshed out story related to this poll and this little WIP! As it stands, I only have plans for this to be a oneshot, but considering I went back and forth far too many times on if I wanted to add a spicy scene to this, I might write a quick spicy follow up to this if I can find the courage to actually post something smutty.

Read on AO3 here if you prefer!

Masterlist

The night air was pleasantly warm against your skin as you stepped from the confines of your tent. You stretched your arms above your head, thoroughly exhausted from the traveling the day brought, and you wanted nothing more than to slip into your bedroll and sleep away the stiffness in your body. But a light rumble to your stomach and a tingle on the tip of your tongue for something sweet kept you awake. Your camp was mostly quiet as you strolled across the grounds from your tent to pillage through the crates of supplies, save for the sound of githyanki longsword grinding against a sharpening stone and the playful barks and hoots of your furred companions. Most of your companions had retired for the evening, either by going to their own bedrolls or simply sitting in the mouth of their respective tents and unwinding from the day. The walk from the now former shadow lands had been quite the journey, taking a handful of days to get to where you were now, and still had another day or two of walking ahead of you before you reached the town of Rivington just outside of Baldur’s Gate.

You strolled along the supply crates along the edge of camp, peeking through your rations to find something to satiate your sweet cravings. The crates were filled with plenty of cured meats and cheeses with handfuls of fresh vegetables scattered about, but not the first pastry or bit of chocolate in sight. You grumbled to yourself as you continued rummaging, but you eventually found the small jar of honey you had collated a few days prior. Your skin tingled at the memory of the few dozen bee stings you’d received as punishment for cutting away a chunk of the honeycomb, but for now it was more than worth the trouble. You slowly poured part of the jar into an empty bowl, watching as the sweet, thick substance flowed from the mouth of the jar. By the time you’d coated the bottom of your bowl, you rotated the jar just a bit to stop the stream and wiped the rim with your finger.

You popped your forefinger into your mouth and cleaned off the bit of honey that lingered, humming in satisfaction at the first taste of the fresh honey. After the lid had been secured, you slotted the jar back in its spot and continued your search for your late night craving. You would need something of substance to eat with the honey to satisfying the gnawing in your stomach and you finally settled on two tart apples. You plucked a clean paring knife from the camp cook station and added it to your small stash of goods.

As you turned from the supply boxes to return yourself to your tent for the evening, you spotted Halsin sitting alone by the dying fire, quietly thumbing through a rather large book. He always made it a habit of sitting off to the side or just in the mouth of his tent, forever reluctant to join the rest of the group when it came time to relax. So, by sitting at the campfire, you couldn’t help but wonder if he would mind a bit of conversation before bed. But, then again, you weren’t sure. Halsin had always claimed that duty and responsibility kept him from truly enjoying down time; feeling that he should be out doing something about the issues at hand instead of sitting idly by. Ever since you plucked the bear from the clutches of the goblins, you can’t recall hardly ever seeing him actually relax or indulge in anything remotely pleasurable. With this in mind, you didn’t want to disturb the few moments of peace and self indulgence he allowed himself by disturbing him.

The stress of the grove weighed heavily on his shoulders, but not long after he left the grove to join your group you had started to see his stoic demeanor begin to bend ever so slightly. Of course the little bit of reprieve he had was short lived once you finally made it to the shadow cursed lands. His duty and sense of responsibility while there was heightened beyond belief and you couldn’t pry him from lifting the curse if you wanted to. So, the look of absolute joy and relief on his face once the curse had finally lifted was certainly a sight for your eyes. He actually seemed happy.

Halsin was reclined by the fire with his legs stretched out in front of him and an elbow supported on an old log behind him. A heavy book resting in his lap, the thumb of his free hand lightly ran along the corners of the pages repeatedly as he read. You caught yourself staring as he flipped to the next page and used his fingers to smooth out the pages before returning them to their ministrations of the corners. You still wrestled with yourself on if you should approach him or not, truly not wanting to bother him, but also not wanting him to feel left our from the group. Eventually, you found yourself walking towards the druid and stopped a few steps from where he was seated.

“Care for some company?” You asked as you approached with your bowl of treats in hand. Halsin looked up from his book, greeting you with his usual, gentle smile.

“Always.” He extended his hand to offer you the seat beside him, softly patting the ground. You carefully stepped over his legs as you made your way to the spot offered to you. You sat on the ground beside him, your lower back resting against the log. You crossed your legs in front of you, placing your bowl in the space between your thighs, giving yourself a suitable spot to rest for the evening until you retired back to your tent. Your leg lightly brushed against Halsin’s thigh as they crossed and you felt him shift slightly, clearing his throat as he adjusted.

“Good evening, my friend.” He said as he adjusted the opened book in his lap, his hand rested atop the pages, securely keeping the book against his thighs.

“Good evening.” You said as you gave a final wiggle to your hips so you could fully settle, “Care to indulge?” You offered him one of the two apples you had brought with you. He graciously accepted the piece of fruit, sinking his teeth into the flesh with a satisfied crunch as you showed him the bowl of honey.

“Do you want some? I know they’re not the sweetest of apples.” He shook his head as he chewed his bit of apple, holding his hand up to stop you from pressing the bowl closer to him.

“No, thank you, though,” he said after he had swallowed, “I certainly pulled enough bee stingers from you the other night that you’ve earned it all for yourself.” He gave a slight chuckle and a gentle nudge to your elbow.

“It was worth it.” You said sheepishly as you recalled having to ask Halsin for help with healing the welts and pulling the stingers from you that you had difficulty in dislodging.

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence, simply enjoying the serenity of the evening in each others company. Halsin turned his attention back to his book as he continued to bite away at his apple and you focused on cutting yours into slices. You took the paring knife you’d brought with you and used it to cut the apple in half, making it easier to cut away at the flesh. With each piece you took off, you dropped them back into the bowl and tossed any bits of seeds or core into the fire ahead of you.

“You don’t have to sit by yourself, you know.” You said as you sliced off another chunk of apple, “I mean if you want to that’s fine, of course, but you don’t have to. You’re as much a part of this group as anyone else.” You glanced to him as you spoke, having finished your slicing and placed the knife on the ground beside you.

“I thank you for the sentiment, but truthfully I don’t feel like that’s the case.” Halsin looked up from his book once again, meeting your gaze in a way that made your skin tingle.

“Why not?” You asked as your brows knitted together, “Has someone said something?”

“Not at all,” he said calmly, “but you know as well I that I haven’t exactly been present for the more…bonding moments that others have enjoyed. I seem to have made myself an outsider. Aside from your company, of course. You’ve always gone out of your way and for that I thank you.” His voice was genuine as he spoke, which relieved any worry that there was trouble among camp members.

“Ah, well, I guess that means you’re stuck with me around the campfire from now on.” You leaned over slightly and nudged him with your shoulder as he chuckled at your response.

“You will always be most welcome.” With a final bite he finished off his apple, tossing the core into the fire ahead of him before returning back to his previous position. He reclined against the log once again, putting his weight against one arm on the log and the other returning to rest along the book spread across his lap, his fingers absentmindedly running along the lip of the cover.

You were blissfully unaware of the hungry eyes watching your every move as you indulged in your sweet treat. Halsin’s gaze was transfixed on the movements of your wonderfully nimble fingers as you selected a slice of tart apple from your bowl and coated it with a generous amount of the honey you’d procured earlier in the day. You twirled the slice in your fingers, trying to break the sticky strings that came as you tried to scoop the thickened treat onto the fruit. Halsin was unsure if time had slowed or if it was simply his own desires fogging his mind, but watching this relatively mundane task had become almost intoxicating.

Your attention was quickly pulled from your snack before you had a chance to bite into it, the call of your name from across camp making you pause. You still held the slice in your fingers, hovering over the bowl as you spoke to your companion about an event from earlier in the day. The honey that rested at the tip of the apple slice began to drip, slowly making its way along the fruit and onto your thumb. Halsin was sitting close enough that he could smell the sweetness and the light floral notes that came from the honey, the scent alone being enough to have his mouth watering for a taste. Although he couldn’t help but wonder at how the taste would change when mixed with the taste of your skin as he watched the honey continue to drop down the length of your arm.

He had longed for your touch for some time now, but ever since the group had parted the shadow lands, the longing had become incessant. Unbeknownst to you, Halsin wanted more from you; more than just friendship. He wanted companionship. He wanted you. And in this moment he wanted nothing more than to clean the honey from your skin with his own tongue and kiss your dexterous fingers that had been teasing him all day. The impulsive urge to act on the idea was tempting, but given that he had yet to approach you about wanting more, he tried to push the thought from his mind.

Realizing the sticky mess that was now running down your arm, you quickly popped the apple slice covered in what remaining honey that wasn’t dripping down your arm into your mouth. You searched the small area by the campfire for any sort of cloth to wipe your hands on, but ultimately decided to simply lick it off when you couldn’t find a suitable rag and the sticky honey was now nearing your elbow. With a turn of your head and twist of your arm, you found the large drip of honey on your arm and pressed your tongue along the sweet trail. Starting near your elbow, you slowly pulled your tongue along your inner forearm, collecting the fallen honey in the small well created by your tongue. Given just how sticky the honey was, you found yourself going over the same spots multiple times in an attempt to get every drop that had made its way down your arm.

Halsin could feel his heart pick up speed and almost threaten to beat out of his chest the more he watched you clean yourself of the honey and the grip on the book in his lap tightened with each swipe of your tongue. The tips of his pointed ears had grown warm in a flush and his throat had suddenly gone dry. Despite the growing tension and the tightening of desire growing in his muscles, he found himself simply unable to look away from you. It had been so long that he’d been able to indulge in desires of his own that he had become complacent with pushing away his wants until he had completed his duties. But now those duties had been fulfilled, with your help of course, he was now free to purse any desires he’d denied himself for so long. And the druid was dangerously close to losing any and all control over keeping these wants at bay until the proper moment.

By the time you’d made your way to your honey coated thumb, you finally picked up on the eyes that had been focused on your movements for so long. Your own gaze flicked to Halsin, whose face was a mixture of amusement and something else you couldn’t quite place, and couldn’t help but smile in embarrassment as he’d caught your blunder. What you couldn’t notice, however, was the heat rising along Halsin’s neck and the thread of tension in his chest that was threatening to break at any second. However, when you stuck the entirety of your thumb into your mouth and slowly pulled off the honey while still holding his gaze, that delicately held together thread finally snapped.

Without a word, Halsin sharply shut his book, practically flinging it from his lap, letting it drop into the dirt as he abruptly stood. Your head tilted upwards, curiously watching as his frame loomed over yours as you remained seated against your log. His legs stepped over yours as he started to leave the campsite, stomping into the ground beside you. You watched as he made off for the inner depths of the trees, walking as fast as his legs would carry him. You had half a mind to follow him, now afraid that you had done or said something to offend him, or even anger him. However, your intentions to follow him into the woods were short lived when you were quickly bombarded with a snout and beak clambering over each other to have a bite of your apples and honey.

Halsin walked quickly into the expanse of the forest, easily slipping between trees and shrubs as he tried to make it as far away from camp, and your teasingly delightful movements, as he could. He could feel a deep rumble in his throat threaten to let loose and a flutter in his heart before it turned into a steady, yet quickened pace. The memory of you oh so deliciously cleaning up the honey from your fingers was burning hot in his mind, causing heat to course through his body and settle in other areas. But laced within this arousal was also an equal amount of anger for himself.

He wanted you more than anything he had wanted in so long that he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. He was elated and almost giddy whenever you graced him with your company, although he was usually good at keeping his demeanor calm and collected. A solemn, unwavering wall he had built to control his emotions and desires while still trying to work a way out to rid Thaniel’s realm of the curse while also not drowning in the stress and strain that the grove demanded for over a century was beginning to crumble, letting a playful youth and optimism begin to break through. The cracks in the wall were caused simply by you and your kindness, your generosity, and your unwavering determination to simply do the right thing for those in need; for those like himself. Halsin wanted to take things further with you, to see if there could be more than just a friendship and a battle alliance, but he was finding that he had issues in taking the next step.

He himself was always susceptible to holding off on acting on desires until more pressing, mature tasks like the shadow curse had been dealt with, finding that he couldn’t enjoy indulging in more carnal or whimsical pleasures until the work was over. He knew you were not like that, but he still felt the same guilt whenever he even considered approaching you for something more. The Absolute was now marching towards Baldur’s Gate with an army of enthralled and tadpole infected and the threat of the Elder Brain becoming in control was ever pressing. He simply couldn’t justify indulging in his own selfish wants and pleasures when something that important was a looming threat. Halsin could wait. He would wait. But that didn’t mean that his own feelings and desires weren’t too much to handle at times.

Halsin gritted his teeth as he walked, nose flaring in a snarl as the overwhelming heat that engulfed his body was becoming too much to control. He had gotten a decent ways away before he felt the urge become all consuming, stooping over in a hunch before erupting backwards in a flash of golden light and a burst of magic. A large cave bear landed on all fours, crushing the hard earth underneath heavy paws. The bear shook his shoulders, releasing a bit of tension before galloping deeper into the forest. Primal urges and instincts always seemed to win out in the end, no matter how hard Halsin tried to control them, and they wouldn’t be tamed easily.

It wasn’t long before the galloping bear eventually came to a stop, breathing heavily at the exertion and arousal still burning through his veins. A pristine, quiet pond stopped the bear in his tracks, a wonderfully calming spot deep in nature that could soothe and subdue the beast running rampant through the woods. Halsin took a deep breath, taking in the scent of the algae clinging to the edge of the pond and listening to the sounds nearby. Crickets chirped loudly all around, sounding off out of sync so there was almost always one singing into the night.

Beautifully luminescent fireflies lazily bobbed around the surface of the water and high into the trees, their glow mixing with the moon that was still high in the sky; well past midnight, but still a few hours before the sun would rise. The serenity of the pond was still not enough for Halsin to be able to regain control of the beast. He stepped into the water, feeling the icy cold water beginning to finally tame the fire almost boiling in his veins. Another step in and the beast was becoming easier to control, but still needed just a bit more.

You stepped quietly through the trees, effortlessly weaving your way through foliage and over gnarled tree roots poking up from the ground as you searched for the druid. A few hours had passed since his abrupt departure and with all of your companions now sleeping peacefully in their bedrolls, four footed ones included, with the exception of one particularly cryptic druid. Something about Halsin’s sudden urgency to leave didn’t sit well with you and after he had not yet returned, you were concerned. You knew good and well he was in no real danger and could easily handle himself, but you knew there was something gnawing at his mind and if it was something you could help alleviate, you were more than willing to miss out on a few hours sleep.

Realistically, you were walking blindly into the forest. You had no sense of where Halsin could have wandered off to and your tracking skills were less than ideal. But nonetheless you pushed forward, taking time to enjoy the silence of the night as you meandered your way through your surroundings. You didn’t bother to bring a torch given just how bright the moon was and only had to fumble a bit under the thickest spots of the canopy. After some time, you picked up on the steadily increasing sounds of crickets and stopped to marvel at the blanket of fireflies that thrived in the darkness.

Between the chirps of the cricket hiding in the grass, you heard the sound of something lightly splashing against water. You redirected your course to head towards the sound and soon stumbled upon a small pond. A symphony of croaking frogs began as you neared the water, surprised to see such a quaint little pond in such a thick forest. The splashing came again, this time the sound seemly skipping across the surface of the water, and as you reached the end of the trees, you could see the remaining ripples riding against the water.

Halsin was standing up to his shins in pond, his trousers rolled to just above his knees and his shoes had been long forgotten in the grass leading to the water, yet still mysteriously wet. His back was to you and he had yet to hear you approach, too engrossed in skipping stones across the water than to hear you coming up behind him. You could see the muscles of his arms flexing and releasing in the soft glow of the moonlight, an obvious tension in the thickness of the muscles. Something had set the druid on edge and you feared that you were the catalyst of his frustrations; although you had no inkling of a clue that you were also the solution.

You watched as he wound his arm slightly before flinging a stone from his hand. The rock skipped beautifully across the water, jumping ten times or more before finally sinking to the bottom of the pond. He waited for the water to quiet once again before throwing another stone, but his one much more forceful. Instead of skipping across the water, the rock simply splashed on impact and sunk. There was a frustration in his throw, a side you didn’t see from Halsin very often out of battle, but you still hadn’t determined the cause. You hesitated in your spot, thinking it would probably be best to simply turn away and let him work through his feelings in this state, but part of you wanted to stay. You’d helped him with many issues thus far, so why stop now?

You took another step towards the pond, purposefully stepping on a branch so it would snap and give away your position. Halsin’s head turned the trees, alarm quickly giving way to relief when you saw you stepping from the foliage. You noted how the scrunched expression on his face melted at the sight of you, making you believe that perhaps he wasn’t angry with you. He gave you a single nod as you approached the edge of the lake, his blood still running too warm for his liking and he wasn’t sure he could speak without a sense of desperation to his voice. You nodded in response, taking the opportunity of finding a body of water to rinse your hands.

“Is everything all right?” You asked as you knelt by the shoreline, dunking your hands in the cool water to wash away any sticky remnants of the honey you’d eaten earlier.

“Oh, yes I’m fine. Just needed some space to think.” Halsin said as he tossed another stone across the quiet surface of the water, “With the city drawing nearer, I fear a peaceful spot like this will be difficult to find. I wanted to savor it while it lasts; try to process recent events and what comes next.”

“Ah. Well… I won’t keep you then.” You said as you stood, flicking water droplets from your fingers in an attempt to dry them, “We both know peace rarely stays for long when I’m around.” You gave a half hearted smile, still unsure if you had done something to upset the druid. Your mind had been settled at the very least, knowing he was safe and had seemingly calmed himself enough to sate your troubled mind.

“Nonsense,” Halsin’s voice was almost surprised, “there is plenty of space in nature for the both of us. You are no bother to me, my friend.” You hesitated for a moment, but eventually spoke.

“You’re certain?” Halsin’s head cocked slightly, picking up on the uncertainty in your voice and realizing that his sudden departure might have offended you in some way.

“Will you join me?” He asked softly as he extended out his hand, offering you a rock to skip yourself.

You felt your heart begin to pick up pace at his offer, having very few times in memory where he’s specifically asked for your company. Normally you asked if he would mind if you joined or he would offer you a space next to him, but very rarely had he specifically asked you to join him. Because of this, you happily obliged and began unlacing your boots to join him in the water. Halsin could feel that familiar warmth beginning to creep into his chest again as he watched your ever teasing fingers quickly unlace your boots. He shifted in the water again, finding a colder spot to stand in as you rolled your trouser legs up to your knee before stepping into the water yourself.

“Good gods.” You muttered as you stepped further into the water, the sudden chill on your legs making your skin seize up and a chill go down your spine.

“Quite brisk tonight, despite how warm the air is.” Halsin said as you stood by him in the water, which had already soaked well past your knees given the depth of your section of pond. You nodded in agreement, still trying to adjust to the temperature change.

He offered you the stone again and you happily accepted it, your fingers brushing against his as you grabbed the stone. You did a double take and took his hand in both of yours, marveling at how unbelievably warm they were when considering he’d been standing in cold water for quite some time now.

“Do you always run so warm to the touch?” You asked as you finally pried your hands away from his, realizing just how long you had lingered.

“I have lately,” Halsin admitted as you turned the stone in your hand, “the beast tends to run hot and emerge more often when I have something pressing on my mind.” Halsin flicked his wrist and sent another stone skidding across the water, ending with a satisfying plunk as it dipped below the surface.

You were never sure why he always referred to his bear form as a beast. Sure, the bear was a formidable opponent in battle and could show quite the fury when angered, but ultimately the so-called beast was still Halsin. To you, the bear was as much Halsin as Halsin was the bear; one in the same. And admittedly, as much as you admired Halsin, you were also rather fond of the bear.

“Anything I can do to help ease your mind?” You asked softly, “I won’t pry, but if I can be of some use, please, let me know.”

“Some use?” Halsin asked through a hearty chuckle, “You’ve helped me more than I could have imagined. You’ve greatly exceeded any expectations I could have possibly had when I met you. I do hope you know just how grateful I am for you, my friend.” You found yourself blushing at his praises, a warmth stinging the apples of your cheeks.

“Well, how about more use, then?” You offered after your blush began to die down, still wanting to offer help for the druid if you could.

“I won’t burden you with an old druid’s ramblings.” He said softly, turning his gaze to yours, “You have your own matters to worry about that are much more important.”

“Well,” you sighed when you realized he would go no further, “if you need whatever worth my opinion has on a matter or even just an ear to vent to, I’m here.” Halsin nodded to you as a way of thanks, taking a brief moment to simply admire you before sending another stone across the water.

You both stood in your respective spots for a long while, taking turns to throw stones across the pond. The stones Halsin skipped were always fluid and elegant, easily surpassing a dozen or so skips before finishing off. Yours, on the other hand, were much more choppy. You didn’t think you’d managed to pass more than two skips and most of your stone ended up simply splashing in the water the second they left your fingers. You weren’t the most skilled stone skipper in Faerûn, but you were admittedly enjoying yourself.

“Are you competitive, Halsin?” You asked after a while, wanting to fill the silence between you and still try to find a way to lift his spirits. If you couldn’t help him with his burdens, then you’d at least like to let him enjoy the night.

“I can be,” he said with a playful glint to his eye, “when I have time to indulge in more light hearted activities. And with the right company, of course.” He motioned to you with his finger.

“Well, in that case, care to indulge me? How about a fresh jar of honey for the winner? Don’t think I didn’t see you eyeing it earlier.” You tossed the rock in your hand and caught it with a touch of flare. Halsin was thankful that the cool water he was standing in kept his heart from racing and his blood from once again running too hot. His eyes focused on the stone you twirled in your fingers as you awaited an answer, your digits once again testing the limits of his self control.

“I can’t say it’s not tempting,” he spoke slowly, trying to regain a steadiness to his voice, “but, given the circumstances, I’m not sure if indulging is the right thing to do. Not right now, at least. The threat of the Absolute takes priority, does it not?”

“It does, but there’s no harm in indulging in something you want, especially now.” You stopped twirling your stone, opting to simply look out across the water as you spoke, “ The Absolute will be there tomorrow just as it was there today. What happens in our downtime will happen if we’re abstaining from joyous things or giving in completely. So, my thinking at least, is let yourself indulge. The world could end in the morning, so I’m going to enjoy tonight while I still can.”

How Halsin wished he could simply take your view on the world. He couldn’t help but think of all the stress and strain that could have been avoided if he had simply taken one night off here and there to just live. The responsibilities the grove suddenly presented to him all those years ago when the shadow curse first took hold had locked his mind in a constant battle for balance. He always strove to find balance in the natural world, but never took the time to find balance within himself. Instead, he allowed himself to be burdened and live almost as a ghost of his former self for the better part of a century. Until he met you. You were the balance he so desperately craved and wanted.

“Are you always so convincing?” He asked after a moment with a soft grin, finally relenting and decided that tonight would simply be one of indulgence and a bit of fun.

“I have my moments.” You said with a shrug and a cheeky smile.

You each took a handful of smooth stones from under the water, taking time to find ones that were just the right size and weight for your little game. You had decided that the winner would be whoever could skip a stone the furthest across the surface of the water before you decided to head back to camp. The moon had started to lower, the darkness beginning to lighten ever so slightly, signaling that sunrise was merely an hour or two away.

You once again took turns tossing rocks across with water with very similar results. You clearly knew Halsin would win your little competition and while the more competitive side of you wanted to win, you were simply happy with watching Halsin actually enjoy himself. The feeling was only boosted by the idea that he was enjoying spending his very little free time with you of all people. The thought brought you back to the moment you had shared earlier in camp when he abruptly left, the feeling of guilt once again returning with the thought that you had annoyed him.

“I’m sorry if I disturbed you earlier,” you said as another one of your stones plunked into the water on the first toss, “I should have let you enjoy your evening in peace.”

“You didn’t disturb me,” he said almost immediately, “I always enjoy every moment of your company. It’s just that… long suppressed emotions are bubbling towards the surface. Left unchecked they’re liable to break the tension and I’ll lose any sense of self control.” He sent another rock across the water, this one a bit more forceful, and it skidded across the water to reach his highest number of skips yet.

“Well, sometimes it’s good to let those feelings out. Cry, scream at the sky, go on a rampage. Seems to help Karlach well enough.” You threw a rock and had to catch yourself before losing your footing and falling in the water, “Hells, if you want to go stomping around as a bear for a while if you think it’ll be of assistance, have at it. I’ll be here when you get back and maybe I’ll have figured out how to properly skip a damn stone by the time you return.” He chuckled at your response, truly appreciative of the admiration of the bear, but also at your very sorry attempts at throwing rocks.

“Widen your stance,” he said as he pointed to your legs, “it’ll give you more stability so you can focus on tossing the stone and not toppling into the water.” You adjusted your leg slightly, pulling one leg just a bit from the other before looking back to Halsin for approval. He simply shook his head and pointed to the side, hinting that you should adjust more. The same cycle repeated for a few rounds with the same result.

“May I?” Halsin said after a few tries and finally gestured to your leg, wanting permission to help you adjust your stance before touching you.

“Of course.” You said softly, finding your heart had begun to give the slightest flutter in your chest as Halsin trudged through the water to stand behind you.

You felt Halsin’s foot nudge yours from under the water, encouraging you to shift your legs further apart. You obliged, shifting your leg until you felt the druid stop his movements. Admittedly, you felt more secure in your posture as you dug your toes into the sandy bottom of the pond. Your breath involuntarily hitched as you felt a pair of large hands on your hips, pulling back slightly and encouraging you to angle one hip further back. As before, you complied. Taking one small step back with one foot until you were at a slight angle.

“Good,” Halsin said softly against your ear, “just like that.” He could feel his own chest begin to tighten as you melted under his touch.

With his own lips close to your ear, he could hear the skip to your breath and could see the prickling of your skin as his warm breath tickled your neck. When you angled your hips with Halsin’s movements, your upper back softly rested against Halsin’s broad chest, fitting together almost seamlessly. The warmth of his body so close to yours was a welcome reprieve from the cold water you’d been standing in and you had to resist the urge to lean back more than you already had. You could each feel the others heart beat begin to increase, the pounding steadily increasing the longer your touch lingered on the other.

You had the quick touch here and there in the past, whether it be through healing or exploring or even a quick pat on the back for moral support, but it had never been anything more. Nothing had ever lingered for more than a few fleeting seconds and none had ever set your heart ablaze like it was now. Although not inherently sexual, there was a sexual tension in the air around you. Your seemingly simple offer to skip stones had quickly turned into something much more intimate. And admittedly, you were beginning to think that maybe there was more to Halsin than to just be a traveling companion. Perhaps you wanted more.

Shamelessly, you had flirted with him many weeks ago with the tiefling celebration with the aid of half a bottle of a wine, and had very gently been turned down. As much as it had disappointed you at the time, you respected his decision. After all, you were little more than strangers at the time and Halsin had his own share of problems to deal with first. But, now that the shadow curse had been lifted and his duties at the grove were nonexistent now, then just maybe something could happen between the two of you.

“Now for the stone.” Halsin said after clearing the lump of excitement from his throat. He took the stone from your hand, turning it over in his hands to ensure it was the correct size and weight for skipping.

You watched as the stone moved through his fingers, noting just how small the stone looked in his hands when the same stone looked large when compared to yours. You had expected his calloused hands to be rough against your skin, but as his fingers brushed against yours, you noticed how exceedingly gentle they were. You had seen his very hands decimate enemies and battle and rip foes apart when in wild shape, but in this moment his hand cradled yours as if you’d break if he were any rougher.

“Curl these fingers into your palm,” Halsin’s voice brought you back from your thoughts, “and use them to hold the stone steady until you’re ready to throw.” Halsin’s opposite hand was cupping yours, gently pushing your last three fingers with his own so they would curl into themselves. With his hand on yours and the other still holding the stone, you found yourself engulfed between his arms, each of his resting on either side of you.

“Good. Now, use your thumb to hold the bottom of the stone and let it run along the length of your finger. Hook it at the tip.” Halsin effortlessly spread your thumb and pointer finger with his own, giving him the change to slot the skipping stone into your grasp.

Halsin hesitated for a moment, but his other hand eventually settled on your side, keeping your hips aligned with how they had been previously positioned. He felt your skin prickle at his touch, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips as his heart thumped even harder against his chest. He had to step back just slightly to keep you from feeling the same warmth he felt begin to grow in other areas of his body.

“Arm back.” He said as he pulled your arm back at a bend. You allowed him to move your arm as needed until your arm was completely nestled against his. You could feel the tightness of his muscles as he moved his arm in tandem with yours and you could actually feel just how strong his hulking arms were.

“Now I throw?” You whispered, finding your voice difficult to get out.

“Yes, but there’s a trick,” Halsin’s voice was once again at your ear, his breath tickling the outer shell as he spoke, “you’ll throw outward, but angle it down just slightly. It allows for a slight spin on the stone when you flick it from your fingers and it’ll skip along nicely.”

With your hand in his, he adjusted the slant of your grip until it was perfect. He kept his grip on you as he helped you toss the stone, his body moving time with yours as he used his arm to guide your own. With a flick of his wrist, and subsequently yours, the rock was thrown perfectly from your grasp and quickly skipped across the water. You both watched in a bit of amazement as the stone surpassed two dozen skips before finally coming to a stop. It was the furthest a rock had been thrown that evening and you were suddenly faced with a dilemma.

“So,” you drawled out as Halsin’s grip remained on you, “who gets the credit for that throw?” The druid couldn’t help but chuckle at the question, not quite sure how to answer it himself. He then realized that he was still holding onto you as you stood in the water and he hesitantly broke away. His fingers lingered ever so slightly on your skin, relishing the contact he’d so greatly been craving.

“I supposed we could call it a tie,” he said eventually, “and we’ll just have to see who can break it.” You nodded in agreement, satisfied with his answer, and readied yourself to begin throwing more stones now that you’d had just an exhilarating lesson.

You and Halsin spent the next few moments searching the pond for more suitable stones, the bulk of the ones at your feet having already been tossed. With sloshing at your legs and dirt between your toes, you walked as best you could to a new spot, hunched over as you inspected the ground for smooth, rounded rocks. Very soon you were joined by Halsin, who had yet to find a good rock, and you both simply searched the pond in silence.

“You know, it’s nice to see you like this.” You said eventually, still having come up empty handed for a decent rock.

“Like what? Hunched over and looking for rocks in the middle of the night?” Halsin asked with a chuckle as he continued looking himself. You found yourself standing across from each other, bent over and faces close to the edge of the water, but also rather close to each other. Half a step forward and your nose would be bumping into his.

“No,” you said with a giggle, “relaxing and, dare I say, even happy. It’s a good look for you.” He glanced up to you, offering you a gentle smile.

“I have you to thank for that. You’ve helped me far more than you probably should have already. It’s not fair of me to always burden you with my troubles; they’re not your burdens to bear. Pardon the pun, if you will.” His familiar seriousness had returned to his voice as he spoke, but he was nothing but sincere.

“Well maybe not, but my tadpole problem isn’t yours either. It’s okay to rely on others when you need help, Halsin. I know that what you had as Archdruid forced you to bear your burdens alone, but you don’t need to anymore. You’ve got an entire camps worth of people that would do anything to help. And if all else fails then you’ll have me. Please know that my hand is extended if you need the help.” You instinctively reached forward, not realizing just what you were doing until your slightly cold fingers ran across his burning cheek. You were committed by that point and simply cupped his cheek for a moment to show your sincerity before dropping it back to the tops of your thighs.

“Another night, perhaps.” He finally said after a brief moment of silence, “For tonight I’m too occupied with besting you at a bit of stone skipping.”

“You seem rather confident.” You said with a huff, being met with a similarly wide grin from the druid.

“After as many stones that you simply threw into the water? I am rather confident.” You responded by playfully dipping your fingers in the water in front of you, bringing them up sharply to splash a small amount of the chilly water on Halsin’s face.

You had expected some sort of witty remark, but instead, you were met with a very large and very cold splash of water to your own face and chest. Halsin had used both his hands to deliver a rather large amount of pond water to you, easily soaking your already thin camp tunic. You stood up straight, the chill going straight to your spine and making your skin prickle once again at the sensation. Your rock skipping competition had now been forgotten and you were both now splashing each other back and forth in the pond. You circled each other, trying to evade the onslaught of water heading towards each of you. You would let out a shriek turned giggle each time you were doused with another handful of water, folding in on yourself momentarily until the initial shock wore off. Halsin was much more dignified when he was splashed by your much smaller handfuls of water, but was no doubt feeling just a chilled after some time.

You continued to circle each other, steadily splashing each other more and more quickly as the game progressed. That was, however, until you finally lost your footing on a smooth rock that you hadn’t seen earlier, and started falling backwards. Thanks to his reflexes, Halsin was able to realize that you were falling much faster than you were, and reached out to grab a hold of your arm in an attempt to keep you from fully submerging yourself in the water. His hold certainly helped you from fully dunking into the water, but you were too far gone for it to save you from getting wet, and you inadvertently pulled the druid down on top of you as you fell into the pond.

You let out a hiss through your teeth as your bottom collided with the rocks and dirt underneath you, cold water immediately soaking your shirt and wetting your entire back. Halsin had come close to falling on top of you, but thankfully caught himself on his hands and knees before colliding with you. What he couldn’t prevent, however, was where he landed. You soon realized that the druid was looming over you, one of his massive legs was sandwiched between yours and the other rested along your outer hip. His hands were near your sides, not quite close enough to touch, but enough to fully cage you underneath him as your nose sat mere inches from his. You both simply froze in your spots, realizing the precariousness of your situation, yet somehow enraptured by it.

You could feel Halsin’s warm breath come out in strong bursts against your face, faintly smelling of the apple he had eaten earlier. Your eyes locked to his, unsure of what to do or say in the moment, and you were hoping he would be the more reasonable of the two. However, you were simply met with a tension filled silence, the druid also not sure of what to do or say next. His eyes slowly trailed down from yours, eventually settling along your lips. You let out the slightest of gasps as you felt his hand cup your cheek, much like yours had done to his just moments before, and you felt your heart pound harder than you could image as his thumb made its way down your cheek bone. You were fully expecting his lips to press to your own moments later, but instead you were surprised with a different move.

Halsin slowly ran his thumb across your bottom lip, starting at the corner of your mouth and gently pulling until he came to the center, your lip bending to his movements as he went. When his thumb left your skin after what felt like an eternity, he lifted the digit to your line of sight and revealed a small amount of honey. Your tongue instinctively licked your lip where his thumb had just been, searching for any remaining bit that had apparently been stuck to your mouth all evening. Before you could thank him for removing the sticky mess from your lip, he popped his honey covered thumb into his mouth, licking off the treat as his eyes remained locked onto yours.

You felt your heart pound against your chest and in your ears as you watched him lick off the teasingly small taste of honey from his thumb. There was something fiery in his eyes as he meticulously cleaned his thumb, something you had never seen so potent and strong before; desire. It only just dawned on you that your own honey licking earlier was what sent him into such a frenzy and caused his urgency to leave. Halsin wanted you and wanted you enough to drive himself mad with desire. Your breath suddenly came in pants as you felt a desirable warmth spread across your abdomen. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want him just as desperately in this moment.

“There’s more,” you said breathlessly, “if you want.” Your voice was just a whisper against Halsin’s skin. You weren’t sure if the sudden lack of oxygen in your lungs was from the cool water now engulfing your chest or if it was from the sudden proximity of the druid hovering over you. You also weren’t sure yourself if you still only referring to honey.

“I do, more than anything, I do.” There was desperation in his words, but also a hint of hesitation in his voice as he spoke.

“But…?” You said after a moment, knowing there was more to his statement than just desire. Like that night at the tiefling party, you felt as if you were about to be gently turned down once again.

“But not tonight,” his gaze was soft as he spoke, understanding the delicate nature of the topic at hand, “the sun is rising and very soon our companions will stir for the day.”

Halsin wanted more than just a quick night to simply satiate primal needs. He wanted companionship from you, but wasn’t sure himself if you shared in his desires. He could tell you wanted at least one night with him, and until he was certain you also wanted more, he wanted to make the one guaranteed night to be memorable for himself at the least. Halsin needed an early evening and a long night so he could take his time to properly savor you; the taste of your lips, the feel of your skin against his, the scent of your arousal. He wanted to etch it all into memory.

If you didn’t want more time with him, he wanted to be able to remember your night together over and over again to satiate his own desires when alone in his tent. To recall the way your body moved and arched with his touch, to replay the wonderful little noises that would come from your lips when he found the right spot, and, most importantly, to reminisce about the way you felt around him. Your touch had teased him for so long now and he needed to feel you against every part of him more than he needed anything else. But, he needed a proper night. One where he could take his time with you without worry of being interrupted either by your camp mates or the rising sun.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t wrong. You also knew that if your companions noticed that you both were missing, they would surely coming looking for you and interrupt any bit of fun you and Halsin had decided to enjoy together.

“And,” he said as he brought his lips to your ear as he whispered, but not enough to touch, “if I’m going to indulge in something I’ve wanted for this long, I want to take the time to savor the taste.” You felt a shiver run down your spine at his words, the promise of something more to come in the following days was enough to subdue the raging warmth you felt in your abdomen and legs. You nodded in response and were greeted with a thankful smile.

You both remained there for a moment longer before the chill of the water was too much to bear. Halsin stood first, climbing off of your frame before helping you to your feet. You each wrung out as much water from your clothes and hair as possible before picking up your long forgotten shoes and making the long walk back to camp. You walked in silence as you returned to camp, your soaked clothes sloshing about filling the void of silence.

The sun was beginning to crest just as the crickets and fireflies had quieted down for the morning. Orange light filtered through the leaves of the canopy above as morning birds began their songs for the day, the rays of sun slightly warming your overly chilled bodies. By the time you made it just to the edge of camp, you were relieved to see that no one had yet stirred for the day. The last thing you wanted to do was explain why you and Halsin were returning to camp soaking wet after being gone for most of the night. Halsin stopped you before you could step into the camp, a soft touch lingering on your skin. You turned to face him, getting lost in the softness of his eyes as he spoke.

“Get what rest you can,” he whispered to you, “we’ll let ourselves indulge in the other after the sun sets for the day.” You smiled at the promise, already wishing for the day to go by as quickly as possible.

“Until tonight, then.” You said softly as you began to make your way towards your tent.

“Until tonight.” Halsin replied as he followed suit to his own living quarters.

You stepped quietly through the camp, hoping the sound of wet cloth rubbing against itself wouldn’t be enough to wake your companions, especially the camp animals. Halsin had made it to the mouth of his tent long before you’d made it to yours, considering yours was the furthest from the pond. You took a quick glance back towards his tent and found that he had not yet gone inside, but was waiting just in the threshold. He wanted to ensure you had gotten inside before he retired for a few moments rest himself. You met his gaze as you gripped the flap to your tent and were met with a quick wink before the druid ducked inside his own tent and out of sight. Your heart fluttered at the gesture and you quickly stepped inside your dwelling space and closed the flap just as you heard the tent next to you begin to stir for the morning.

Tag List: @thoughts-of-bear ,@beardedladyqueen, @pixie-in-a-moonlantern, @ur-friendly-nbhd-cardassian

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #halsin #daddy halsin #halsin x reader #reader x halsin #halsin x gender neutral reader #halsin romance #still very seriously considering smut #halsin fanfic #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction

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the-90s-music-colosseum · 5 months

Text

Quarterfinals, Match 1

expand to see all propaganda received! (huge wall of text warning)

Selena:

"truly probably one of the most beautiful women to have ever walked this earth. voice of an angel, dazzling smile, looks like she smells good"

"if u don't vote selena ur mexicanphobic /j"

Chris Cornell:

"The word "ethereal" was invented to describe Chris"

"His tiddies."

"Chris is the most attractive person in history."

"looks california"

"IF U DONT VOTE CHRIS J WILL LITERALLY CRY"

"Picture this - Audioslave is headlining a festival in Bologna, but rain threatens. Thunder rumbles. Wind is picking up. Chris Cornell opens his shirt - and the hand of the weather gods is stayed for the rest of the show. Three minutes after the last encore, rain comes pouring down. Chris Cornell's chiseled abs fought off the rain for a full 90 minutes. Godly behavior. Plus he sang the beginning of "I am the highway" alone on guitar before the band joined in. What a show. Say hello to heaven, Chris."

"I want to cook the skrunkly alive"

"i want to rip the flesh off his tits with my bare teeth cjdkdjdjwsln i am way too in love with him for my own good i want to suck out all of his blood like a vampire but just for him (i have a massive fear of blood) i have probably like over 500 photos of him shirtless on my phone i NEED to squeeze and bite on his arms until his blood vessels pop i want to (almost) drown him in honey and sugar and eat every square inch of his body i want to rip out his voice box and vocal chords and keep them in a jar in the back of my closet if he doesn’t win i WILL disintegrate into thin air i will simply cease to exist i am already planning to get his signature tattooed on my arm this man is the second coming (HA) of jesus christ he’s not just the most attractive 90’s man he’s the most attractive person to ever exist (this definitely did not take an absurdly long amount of time to write what are you talking about??) (please send help)"

"I think Eddie & Stone themselves put it best when they said: Eddie - If he is the devil, I have to say the devil’s a beautiful person! Stone - he’s got a nice chest too…Jesus…"

"One of the humblest, most caring and creative man I've ever seen. I'd give him my last reserve of food, my car, my house if he needed. I'd go to the moon and back if he'd ask. Just one look into his beautiful blue eyes make you feel at peace."

"I mean, just LOOK at him! He’s so beautiful it makes me weep. AND he was incredibly talented musically and lyrically. His lyrics paired with that unique beautiful soulful voice of his feels like he’s stirring my soul around with his bare hands. I love him forever <3"

"hes like jesus to me. cant sleep if i dont think about him before bed. i even built a lil shrine for him uwu"

"i wanna suck on every inch of him. by the time im done itll be like an octopus attacked him"

#most attractive 90s musician #poll #polls #selena #selena quintanilla #selena quintanilla perez #chris cornell #soundgarden #temple of the dog #90s music #tournament

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engie-ivy · 8 months

Text

(I'm on holiday visiting ancient Roman sites, so about time to post a fic for @wolfstarmicrofic 's Greek & Roman Mythology theme! Unfortunately, that I would be able to keep it short is also a myth...)

4th: Conquest

2263 words

For a simple farm-boy like Remus to end up with the legendarily handsome Prince Sirius of the House of Black of the city of Grimmauld, nothing less than devine intervention would be needed. Luckily for Remus, the gods like nothing more than to meddle in the affairs of mortals...

The Myth of Remus and Sirius

‘Please goddess, answer my call, please goddess, hear my plea.’ Remus repeats the words in his head over and over again, while sitting on his knees on the cold marble of the temple.

Suddenly, he hears a rustling of fabric, and the soft sound of gentle footsteps on the floor. He opens his eyes and lift his head, and despite expecting it, he’s still taken aback by the imposing sight in front of him.

A tall woman, taller than any other woman, taller than any man, taller than any mortal. Flowing silk fabrics draped across her body, but still revealing enough of her ivory skin and soft curves. Hair falling to her waist like woven threads of gold, framing a face with eyes the colour of the ocean and full, pink lips. The most beautiful woman in the world.

Aphrodite, the goddess of love.

“You called upon me?” She asks in a sweet voice as she strides across the marble stones of her own temple to stop in front of Remus.

Remus bows his head again, his forehead almost pressed against the marble. “Yes, my goddess. You must- I mean, I humbly ask you to, no, beg you to please undo the gift you have given me.”

When he dares to look up, Aphrodite has pressed her lips into a thin line. “You were given a gift by an Olympian, and you reject it?”

Remus hands tremble. Insulting one of the gods has never ended well for any mortal, and this might very well mean his death. Or worse.

A week ago, an old woman showed up at the house where Remus and his parents live as simple farmers. She had eyes sunken into her wrinkled face, warts in her neck and on her hands, dirty fingernails and hair like cobwebs. Remus had made her a hot bath, cooked her a meal, and let her sleep in his own bed. The next morning, she revealed herself to be the goddess Aphrodite in disguise, wandering through the mortal world to test the people’s xenia, their hospitality. And for Remus’ great show of hospitality, she had promised to reward him with a gift.

“It’s not that I am ungrateful, my goddess. It was a great honour to receive an Olympian on my doorstep,” Remus carries on, knowing that he can’t back down now. “You were great and good to bestow such a gift upon me,-”

“I know it is what you desired!” Aphrodite interrupts. “I could hear it in your thoughts and see it own your face.” She lifts her chin and tosses her hair over her shoulder. “Do you think I do not know my own field of expertise?”

Remus vehemently shakes his head. “No, no, no. You were right. It is what I desired. Just... not like this.”

Remus comes from a family of simple farmers, but they are not without a claim to fame. With the bee hives and flower fields behind their simple farm house, the Lupins known across the land to produce the highest quality of honey. So much so, that generations ago, King Phineas Black made them the personal supplier of the royal family of the city of Grimmauld. Befriended kings and queens, rich noblemen, travelling heroes, all are hoping to be gifted a jar of Grimmauld’s famous honey when visiting the city.

Each week, Remus’ father would ride his carriage to Grimmauld to personally offer their finest selection to King Orion and Queen Walburga. And when Lyall got to old to make the weekly trip, Remus took over from his father.

His first time in the palace, Remus kneeled in front of the throne with his tray filled with jars of honey, when soft footsteps approached. Someone reached out and took a jar from the tray. “So, for honey to be the best it must have the exact same shade of gold as your eyes,” a rich voice spoke.

When Remus looked up, his breath caught. A young man wearing a perfectly fitted, silk toga was holding one of the honey jars and smiling down at Remus with a soft, warm smile. He was slender, with a narrow waist and a face that seemed to be carved out of marble, with delicate features from an uncanny perfection, but the bright liveliness in his silver-grey eyes showed that he was very much not a statue. His ivory skin and light eyes contrasted beautifully with his long, raven black hair, which was now held back by silver pins embroidered with small, delicate diamonds that perfectly matched the colour of his eyes.

Remus immediately knew he was gone for. He also knew he was far from the first man, nor would he be the last, to be captivated by Prince Sirius of the House of Black.

Prince Sirius is widely known to be the most beautiful man in the world. Stories are told about his beauty far and wide, and none of those stories have been exaggerated. Besides kings, queens, princes and princesses pursuing him, even the gods desire him. Apollo has come down from mount Olympus several times to watch the man or even strike up a brief conversation with him, and it is said that even the highest god Zeus has let his eye fall on Sirius, and everyone knows that when the gods want something, they do not patiently wait for it, or bother with permission for that matter. Therefore, it is assumed that Prince Sirius will very soon be the next conquest of one of the gods.

His parents are practically salivating at the thought. After all, when young Ganymede was abducted by Zeus, his parents received divine compensation, the prized horses gifted to King Tros by the highest god himself being admired and envied all over the world, and Sirius is surely as beautiful as Ganymede, maybe even more so. And even if the gods will eventually lose interest in their son, there are still incredibly rich kings who will gladly offer a large portion of their wealth to have Prince Sirius with his legendary beauty at their side. Besides, King Orion and Queen Walburga have a second son for their succession, so that they’re free to exploit Sirius for his beauty.

Every time Remus visited the city, Sirius made time to talk to him, and when Remus found out he was not only beautiful, but also clever and witty and good-hearted, he had completely fallen for the young prince. Completely fallen, while knowing it was completely hopeless.

Until just days after meeting the goddess Aphrodite, Remus heard a frantic knocking. He opened the door and did a double take. The young man’s hair was not neatly styled as usual, instead pulled up in a messy bun with strands falling over his eyes, and his fine clothes looked slightly dishevelled, but unmistakably, Prince Sirius was standing before him.

Before Remus could do more than gasp, Sirius spoke. “Remus, please forgive me my intrusion, but I cannot bear to deny my feelings any longer. I long to be with you! I do not want riches, or titles, or crowns, or even a life among the gods. I just want you! My heart has chosen you, and I refuse to listen to my fears instead of my heart any longer.”

Sirius let himself fall into Remus’ arms, and for a moment, Remus’ heart leapt with joy, but then it was like an ice-cold hand had closed its grip around it as Remus realised what had happened.

Aphrodite’s ‘gift’.

She had given Remus what he desired, but she had not realised Remus did not want to have what he desired if it had to be like this.

Remus told Sirius he was tired and needed to rest. He convinced him to get some sleep, and promised they’d have a conversation in the morning when his mind would be clear.

As soon as Sirius was asleep in Remus’ bed, Remus had rushed to the temple of Aphrodite.

Aphrodite purses her lips and crosses her arms beneath her breasts. “How do you mean ‘not like this’?”

“Not if he didn’t get to choose,” Remus explains pleadingly. “Not if he was used as a tool to do me a favour.”

Aphrodite elegantly arches an eyebrow. “I present you with the most handsome man in the world, a rich, young prince, yours for the taking, and you would refuse?”

Remus only nods.

“Why?”

“Because I love him,” Remus simply states. “I would never want to strip him of his free will, or place my happiness above his.”

Aphrodite stares at him for a moment, and Remus wonders if he has insulted her, if these are his last moments before she changes him into a tree or an insect, or simply burns him to ashes.

But then a small smile appears on the goddess’ face. “For so long, I’ve dealt with people confusing attraction, desire or advantages with love, and it’s a balm to my soul to see pure love, like their is between you and Sirius.”

“I... I don’t understand.”

“You have misunderstood the nature of my gift, my sweet Remus. Allow me to explain.” Aphrodite is smiling indulgently at him now. “You must know that King Orion and Queen Walburga were hoping their son’s beauty would bring them opportunity, and that him having eyes for a simple farm-boy was unacceptable to them. They had threatened that an ill fate would befall you if Sirius were to seek your affections. I have made it clear to them that an even more ill fate would befall them if you or your family would suffer any harm, and you know you must never underestimate just how... inventive us Olympians can be when we really want to punish mortals.”

Remus had not thought such a beautiful face could wear such a dark look, and he shudders, images of Prometheus chained while waiting for the eagles to come eat his liver, Tantalus desperately reaching for the fruits and the water just outside his reach, Sisyphus fruitlessly rolling his stone up to hill coming to mind.

“Also,” Aphrodite continues, her face back to its normal expression. “I made it clear to both Zeus and Apollo to let the boy be. They will listen, because they know better than to cross me.” A pleased little smile. “Those two won’t risk having to live the rest of their immortal lives without ever experiencing a mortal’s love.”

“That’s... wonderful,” Remus says, struggling to find words. “And I am much obliged to you for your kindness. But I still don’t understand. How come Sirius...”

“Regarding Prince Sirius,” Aphrodite says, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “My work there consisted of telling him he had nothing to fear from his family or scorned gods anymore. And that’s it.”

“But... But...”

Aphrodite now laughs out loud. “He loved you already, Remus. He was afraid that his parents with their greed or gods unable to handle rejection would harm you if he were to act on those feelings. The moment I made clear he needn’t worry about them anymore, he came to you.”

Remus lets out a breath. “I.. I can hardly believe it.” He laughs shakily, happiness starting to blossom in his chest. “Did you know from the start my feelings were reciprocated?”

“Is there anything concerning love that I do not know?” Then the goddess shrugs. “It may not have entirely been a coincidence I showed up in disguise on your doorstep. Perhaps I had seen the way you and Prince Sirius looked at each other, and I was looking for an excuse to meddle.”

“Thank you,” Remus manages to say. “Thank you, great goddess. I can never repay you for such a gift.”

Aphrodite looks at him with a twinkle in her eyes. “Just continue to prove to me pure love exists, so I can look upon you whenever I need that belief reinforced.”

When Remus returns home, Sirius is sitting on his doorstep with his knees tucked against his chest, worrying his lips between his teeth. The moment he sees Remus approach, he pushes up to his feet and brushes the dirt from his tunic. “I have completely misread the situation, haven’t I?”

“No, Sirius,” Remus says. “No, you haven’t.”

Sirius shakes his head. “I poured my heart out to you. You told me to go to sleep and disappeared.”

“By Zeus, Sirius, I didn’t mean it like that.”

Sirius gives him a sad smile. “It’s okay. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have assumed. I just thought... When you looked at me I thought I saw...”

“What you saw was there!” Remus exclaims. “Sirius, I will explain. Only some days ago, I somehow gained the favour of the goddess Aphrodite, and she promised me a reward of some sort. So when you showed up here, I thought she had looked into my heart and seen only you, and that the feelings of which you spoke weren’t your own, but a spell she had cast on you in order to please me. That you weren’t here of your own choosing.”

Sirius blinks at him, and then shakes his head, stepping forward and placing his hand gently on Remus’ cheek. Remus briefly wonders if he’s dreaming, but Sirius looks so beautiful, Remus wouldn’t have been able to dream up such a vision.

“Remus,” Sirius speaks. “Let me reassure you. I have loved you from the moment I laid eyes on you.”

#my tumblr writing #wolfstar microfic #greek mythology #prince sirius #beautiful sirius #smitten remus lupin #wolfstar #wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar fic #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #sirius black #remus lupin #remus x sirius

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stranger-fanfiction-n-things · 2 months

Text

DATE NIGHT

written December 14, 2023

a/n: I've read the first ACOTAR book in the series and a bit of the second book in the series. I immediately gravitated towards Azriel and of course wrote a blurb? one shot? About him and an oc. Her name is Ori, short for Aurora and she is the bastard child of Mr. Archeron. I picture her resembling Carmen Solomons the South African model. This thing in my head was inspired by the tiktoker ShannBailee. There's a video of her husband washing her hair and it was so sweet and beautiful to watch that I had to write something involving Azriel. I'm rambling. Enjoy.

Word Count: 3043

When Ori and Azriel decide to stay inside for date night, the Shadowsinger proposes a question that catches his mate off guard.

“Can I wash your hair?”

I stop detangling my hair turning to look at Azriel. He gazes down at me, honey brown eyes burning bright under faelight. I swallow, blinking slowly and open my mouth to answer, but the words die on my tongue. Azriel was well aware of my hair washing routine and often left me alone, not wanting to intrude on the vigorous and lengthy regimen I curated. Sometimes he would stay with me if we were deep in conversation, watching me detangle and coat my hair with various conditioners and hair masks. But wash my hair? The question caught me off guard.

His mouth twitches, a faint smile appearing on his face. I realize I'm gawking at him and close my mouth, shaking my head. A flush creeps up my face and I turn back to the mirror playing with my ends. A trickle of cool air whispered against my skin. Black shadows grazes my shoulders in attempts to get my attention. I glance at Azriel through the mirror where he lounged on the bed, leaning back on his hands, legs spread. He blinks at me, tilting his head to the side waiting patiently for my answer.

“You want to?” I breathe.

Azriel gave a nod, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, hands dangling in between his legs.

“Are you sure?”

Azriel chuckles quietly. “Yes. I’m sure.”

I stare at him for a long moment before nodding my head. “Okay.” I note the way his eyes gleam with mirth, but don't comment. “I’m almost done detangling my hair. I’ll set up the bath when I’m done.”

Azriel rose from the bed, walking to the vanity. He places his cold hands on my shoulders and bent down kissing the exposed skin. “You sit and finish with your hair. I’ll set up.”

“Wait,” I say, holding his hand before he left. “You don’t know what products I use. I can show you—”

“I’ve seen you wash your hair several times.”

“But—”

Azriel brings my hand to his lips, kissing my skin. “I can figure it out, Ori.”

I watch him walk to the bath and after a few moments the sound of running water fills the room. I turn to the mirror returning to the section I was at and scoop a considerable amount of product into my hands, rubbing them together. I start from my scalp and run my hands down to my ends then comb my fingers through my curls making sure I remove all the knots. I crane my neck using my enhanced hearing to listen to what Azriel was doing in the bath, but his damn shadows. I can’t hear anything.

“I can feel you staring.” Amusement laces his tone. I can feel it through our bond. I fix my posture responding to the bond feeling bashful. Azriel chuckles quietly and I smile fondly focusing on detangling my hair.

The aroma of apples and water lily filled the air when I ease the door open. I peer around the door and find Azriel sitting on a stool hunched over with his hand in the water testing out the temperature. Bottles and jars of my hair products line the stone ledge of the bath along with a wide-tooth comb. I linger by the doorframe in awe of the set up. From my favourite candle lit on the other side of the bath, the light blue ceramic pitcher, to the goblet of red wine—when did he get wine, I thought in disbelief.

“I told you I’d figure it out.” Azriel spoke.

“How did you—” I struggle to find the words. Azriel smiles, big enough for his dimples to make an appearance, one very few got to see.

He rose to his feet strolling toward me. I take a step back to look up at him, his large stature overwhelming my pixie-like height. Azriel takes my hand in his leading me toward the bath. He stops right in front of the pool of water and I admire the pungent fumes of apples and water lily.

“Wow,” I gasp, gazing up at Azriel. “This is just—wow.”

“The water is at the temperature you like.”

I gaze up at Azriel lost for words at his attention to detail and begin to unwrap my silk robe. Azriel helps me out of the garment and assists me into the tub. I instantly sigh the moment my body descends into the water. It was the perfect temperature. Azriel sits on the stool beside the bath, thick, long legs spread open to accommodate his large size.

I turn my body to the side, placing my forearms on the ledge of the bath gazing warmly at him.

My stomach feels like it's full of butterflies fluttering around. I've always known Azriel was observant but this was…everything. Azriel picks up the light blue ceramic pitcher dipping it in the water, lifting it out when it was full. I wait for him to pour the water but he pauses for a moment leaning forward, placing a gentle kiss on my forehead. My heart hums at the loving gesture. To the outside world, Azriel was distant and cold, observing the world from the outside looking in. But when it was only the two of us, he was gentle and loving; affectionate and doting.

I face forward, sitting upright in the warm bath with my arms wrapped around my shins, gazing at the rippling water. Warm water trickles down my head splashing back in the bath. I feel my long cinnamon red curls flatten along my back as Azriel fills the pitcher again, pouring water on my head in efforts to rinse out all the product in my hair. He repeats the motion again and again, running his scarred fingers through my hair, kneading my scalp to get the leftover product. I watch him in silence as he worked, my mind buzzing like a bee.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

I watch Azriel pick up a bottle of cleansing shampoo, pouring the smooth paste into the palm of his hand. He rubs his hands together until bubbles form. I turn around to face him, holding the ledge and he combs his fingers through my hair kneading my scalp.

“Nothing. It’s just…” I sigh as he began to scratch all around my head. My eyes nearly roll back to my skull at the pleasurable feeling. I am quiet for a couple of minutes revelling in pampering. Azriel stops to add more shampoo. “Why do you want to wash my hair? We could’ve done anything else for date night.”

Azriel lathers the soap onto the back of my head. A slight frown puckers between his brows in concentration. I bite back a smile, admiring his features. The elegant slope of his straight nose and refined tip, his high cheekbones and chiseled jaw. The way he bites his lower lip when he is lost in thought or a task. Light freckles dusted over his nose, giving him a boyish, youthful look, I always adored.

“I don’t know…” he mumbles, lifting a shoulder. “I just wanted to do it.”

Azriel was a man of few words and it was an issue in our relationship we constantly worked on. I found it difficult to open up to people, even my sister Feyre sometimes when things became too much. But with Azriel it was much more than not talking about things. He kept it all bottled inside and I want him to feel safe enough to let whatever was going on in his head, out. It took us both a while to get comfortable enough to communicate our feelings. It didn’t mean we didn’t struggle with it daily.

I stare up at him with round eyes. Azriel fills the pitcher with water pouring it over my head to rinse out the shampoo. He blinks at my silence peering down at me and I lean forward resting my chin on my arms, waiting for the rest of his answer. He gazes at me, golden brown eyes trailing over my face and hair. I lift my head feeling uncertain about what he was looking at and thinking about. Reassurance pulled on my heart, rippling through the bond.

“How do you use this all the time?” he asks, referring to the pitcher.

“I usually dunk my head in the water to rinse my hair. Using the pitcher all the time would take way too long.”

Azriel chuckles quietly setting the pitcher back on the ledge. I giggle turning to the front and ease down to my elbows, tilting my head back submerging my long hair in the water. Balancing on my right elbow, I used my left hand to knead the remaining shampoo in my scalp out. A flush crept up my chest and the back of my neck feeling Azriel’s intense stare on my body. The water, though sudsy, barely covered my nakedness. I arch my back more and my chest hovers out of the water, the cool chill prickling my nipples to hard peaks.

I swish my head from side to side before sitting up, feeling the warm water trickle down my back. Azriel’s eyes flickers up to my face at the last second. His eyes darkening and I can feel his desire reverberating through the bond.

“What?” I ask softly, feigning innocence.

Azriel licks his lower lip. “Turn around.”

From the corner of my eye, I notice the gold goblet of wine. “Wait,” I said reaching for the glass. “I can’t forget about this.”

I sit on my backside holding the stem of the glass between my fingers. I take a sip of the cool red wine humming in content at the acidic and sweet tangy taste bursting in my mouth. Azriel scoops up my long hair, wringing out the excess water before letting it hang over the edge of the bath. He opened up a jar of my conditioner scooping out what I hoped wasn’t a considerable amount based on the size of his hands and runs his fingers through my hair.

I sink deeper into the bath letting the water reach just above my chest as he repeats the motion, evenly distributing the product so that no strand is left untouched. Azriel rearranges himself on the stool grabbing the wide tooth comb on the ledge and sections my hair into four. I feel him hold the first section in his hands and the scraping of the comb against my ends. He combs my hair from the ends to my scalp, untangling any knots I may have missed when detangling my hair prior.

We fall into our usual comfortable silence. Azriel taking his time to comb through each section of my hair and I sipping leisurely on the glass of wine. I never gave much thought on how intimate the act of washing someone’s hair was. The gentle attention and appreciation for your mate. The trust and vulnerability.

My stubbornness gets the best of me. I'm still not satisfied with Azriel’s answer.

My mate kisses my temple breathing deeply and I lean into his touch before turning back around to face him. Azriel takes the goblet of wine out of my hand setting it down on the ledge and inclines forward nuzzling his nose against mine. I gaze up at him waiting for his next move. Azriel closes the distance between us, pressing his full soft lips against my own. My eyes flutter close, smiling into the kiss knowing he couldn’t go five minutes without touching me in some way. He pulls away not before kissing me again, this one quicker than the last. His hand lay on my knees rubbing small circles on my skin while the other grabbed the pitcher again, filling it up to pour water on my head.

I play with his fingers, softly trailing my fingers against the intricate designs of his marred skin. It took some time to be able to touch his hands without feeling sadness through ripple through our bond. It was still an adjustment but slowly and surely, he was learning to like the scars.

“Az,” I spoke.

“Mm?”

“Why did you really want to wash my hair?”

Azriel pours the water on my head again and shrugs. I almost zap him with my powers. Sensing my impatience, a faint smile ghosts his lips. I open my mouth to protest but he speaks.

“I watch you do your hair all the time,” he begins filling the pitcher with water. “And I love how much time and effort you put into your routine.” I kiss his palm coaxing him to continue. “I’ll admit though, sometimes when you talk about your hair products and a new regimen you came up with, I’m looking at you, nodding my head as if I understand what you’re talking about but honestly, I don’t. I’m not listening.” He laughs when I squeeze his hand at the confession. Azriel pause and looks at me. “It’s not because I don’t want to,” he explained. “It’s because I can’t stop admiring you. Your hair is your expression, creativity, your freedom and I want to completely immerse myself in that part of you.”

Azriel returned to his task as if he said something so casual it didn’t require much thought. I shake my head.

“Gods, you’re so frustrating.”

Azriel stopps mid-pour. My response catching him off guard.

“Why?” He frowned.

I scoff. “Because how could you be any more perfect.”

Azriel rolls his eyes and continues to pour, shaking his head. “I’m not perfect,” he said flatly.

I hold his other wrist, halting his movements and bring his arm down. I gaze in his beautiful hazel eyes. “You are to me,” I say strongly. “You’re perfect and thoughtful and loving and—” Azriel cuts me off with his lips on mine.

I giggle leaning away from him, smiling when he purrs, chasing my lips. I indulge him closing the distance. The kiss deepens, Azriel licking into my mouth. My heart stutters at the fierceness of the kiss. Passion and devotion thrums through our bond as Azriel brings his hand up the back of my head, curling his fingers through my wet hair. I lean forward fisting his black shirt in my wet hands, desperate to feel his body against mine. A low groan escapes his lips sensing my desire and Azriel nips my bottom lip pulling away.

“You might take back those words when I’m done with your hair.” He breathed against my lips, amusement in his tone.

I grin. “So far you’re doing well for someone who doesn’t listen when I’m talking about my hair care routine.” Azriel growls playfully and the sound sent vibrations between my legs to my core. He leans back, the tips of our nose touching.

“That’s all you took from what I told you?” He spoke lowly, carefully.

“Yup.” I respond cheerfully, pulling away.

Azriel smiles, kissing my cheek before asking me to dip my head in the water again.

“I think we should think about your hair care regimen.” I muse, rinsing my hair out. It feels so silky and smooth against my fingers. Azriel hums a response, pulling strands of hair out the comb. “Yes, so you can stop using my shampoo.” I arch my brow knowingly at him. His hair has been smelling like pears and roses lately.

He grins, white teeth shiny and straight; dimples indenting his cheeks. It takes my breath away.

“What do you suggest?”

I sit up treading my hands through the soapy water. The tips of my fingers tingles with power surging through them. The soap in the water faded away becoming fresh and clean. I manipulate the temperature of the water making it a little hotter. Steam soon wafts in the air. Leaning back on my elbows again, I purse my lips in thought.

“A hair mask to lock in moisture. Flying dries out your hair,” I say. “Oh, and there’s this conditioner for wavy hair I saw at the market the other day.” Azriel rinses his hands in the water and combs his wet hands through his dark hair. I sit up observing him. “Other than that, I just think you need a haircut.”

“I thought you liked my hair.”

I do like it. I love it actually. He had grown it out, thick waves falling just above his shoulders. I was accustomed to his low taper fade, thick waves falling above his hazel eyes. Long hair somehow made him look older, despite his boyish looks. I love playing with his hair when he snuggles up against my chest or helping him put half his hair in a bun before training. But I miss his short hair.

“I do!” I promise, sitting up on my bottom. “But any longer and you’ll look like Cassian.”

Azriel tips his head back and laughs. I join rising to my knees, reaching up to card my fingers through his hair moving the strands of hair that fell over his face.

“I’m done,” he said, golden eyes trailing down my exposed body, drinking me up. I shiver at his intense stare. He drags his gaze up to my face looking into my eyes and I wrap my arms around his neck pulling him close. Azriel’s arms envelopes around my small figure, not caring I am wet.

“Thank you,” I murmur in his ear.

Azriel pulls away reaching a scarred hand up to caress my cheek. I lean into his touch and his cool finger brush my lips. I take the tip of his thumb into my mouth, biting softly. Azriel’s eyes darkens and desire thrums through the bond. He lowers his lips to mine in another deep kiss. His lips were warm and soft, parting slightly allowing my tongue to slip inside. I press into him feeling his heartbeat against my chest. Azriel sucks on my tongue eliciting a whimper from my lips. He pulls away, breathing deeply against my lips.

“You’re welcome, baby.”

#azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x oc #acotar fanfiction #azriel one shot #azriel shadowsinger #poc reader #acotar imagine #acotar fanfic #oriarcheron

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crepesuzette2023 · 2 months

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Any recs for weird Mclennon fics ? I know “weird” means something different for every person but just like any unusual story lines or something that made you pause while reading. ( that includes weird sex as well ) hope this made sense

In this house, weird is a compliment!

Thank you, that's a wonderful ask. As you rightly pointed out, weird is different for every person—but here are some favorites of mine that, I think, match your description. As always, I hope you find something here you like.

The Cum Jar (Anonymous). John and Paul are such loving parents. (Hands off Dick James.)

Birney (bookofapril). Paul McCartney/Paul McCartney.

Macabre (@dovetailjoints). Lennon and McCartney share everything.

Sunset Kiss in the Desert Wind (@skylikeaflame): Weird (and hot!) story based on the Mullet Wings Paul is the sad guy at the Home Depot paint counter meme. This is perhaps one of my favorite things.

Some Girls Will Make You Shiver (@eveepe): John and Paul aren't girls, but make love as girls. The gender bending isn't the weird thing; it's how much they stay the same.

Staying with the gender bending but switching to a different tone: a great threat (@pauls1967moustache). Paul and Yoko as powerful female artists competing for John's...let's say aura. The longer I think about it the more I think that this is among the most truthful portrayals of Paul & Yoko I know.

A thrill a moment (harmonising). The Bailey Shoot. Every time I read this, I discover something new, and every time I read this, I feel I'm missing something. That is weird. Just yesterday it hit me that this is how John feels in the story about Paul. A sense of relentless curiosity and mental disintegration, of things slipping and falling into place at the right moment. Can't afford to miss a word of this.

archangel (endcoda_). 1967 Paul thinks he's possessed by the devil.

Paul McCartney/Stuart Sutcliffe is weird by definition. I loved repeat rec The Bass Lesson (@aquarianshift) and Be It Fahrenheit or Centigrade (@dailyhowl).

Open Heart (@revollver). Paul changes into a Vampire. John and Paul remain John and Paul—with a satisfying twist in the end.

Under Both his Thumbs (@idontwanttospoiltheparty). John introduces Paul to Julia for the first time, and they write the song "Suicide." The two POV's live next to each other like harmonies in a song. I loved the description of Julia at the center, and the 1969 echoes of the song.

ageless children, animal sweat (eyeball2eyeball). John, Hamburg, Paul, lashes, absent sanity and throbbing horny energy paired with undiminished powers of cutting wit.

Dawn Patrol (@scurator). Maybe I only find this weird because I'm not British (my weirdness, sad to report, is of the German variety), but I read this with wide eyes and a slightly open mouth, like a mesmerized child. Paul and John have sex as Biggles and Algernon.

For though they may be parted (@downtothe-lastdrop). The Tension™ during the Let It Be /Get Back Sessions is being dealt with by introducing the memory erasure from Severance.

A taste of honey (@muzaktomyears): John and Paul fuck and talk about women; things escalate in an excellent way from there.

baby, it's all relative (verse) (@pauls1967moustache). Daddy kink and foot fetish. The weird thing about this is that it's written from John's POV, and he's the quote unquote sane one.

kissing the blarney (@zilabee). The history of the Beatles, in which Paul is the Blarney Stone.

Just for tonight (strwbryfeels). Paul is randy and his hands aren't enough, so he starts humping a pillow, with John and Ringo right there. Crisp white hotel linen will never be the same. Weirdly hot and sweet!

Why Buy the Cow (RedheadAmongWolves): John and Paul from the perspective of...the milk man.

Strings (deux_lunes): An unusual way of telling the John/Paul story.

Odontotos (bookofapril): Paul refuses to let John go after death. I thought I knew where this one was going a couple of times, and I was wrong every time.

The Jane Gives an Interview Series (@ilovedig). Not unfinished, but open ended. Inspired by Jane Asher pointedly not mentioning Paul in an interview; a thought experiment of Paul reacting to the snub, placing him in a relationship with the different men in his life.

#asks #weird fic recs #fic recs #mclennon #mclennon fanfiction #fanfiction #beatles fanfiction #ao3 fanfic

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southern-gothic-comic · 1 year

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Page 11

Next 💜 Back 🖤 First

(Author Notes)

Panel 1: In the darkening evening Imogen walks Laudna home through the woods. Imogen is carrying a lantern and Laudna has a full basket of bread and produce on her arm. Imogen is dismayed when they reach her “house,” which is a woebegone-looking ramshackle hovel in the woods. The roof, augmented with sticks and branches, has partly fallen in and is beginning to be reclaimed by moss and ivy. A few limp articles of laundry hang from a clothesline tethered to a nearby tree.

Imogen: You’re livin’ . . . here?

Laudna: Mmhm! It’s not much to look at right now, still a work in progress you see, but it’s comfortable enough. Won’t you come inside?

Panel 2: Inside it is pretty bleak but there is evidence that Laudna has tried to make it homelike. Some makeshift furniture from barrels and crates. A pile of dried leaves covered with a rough blanket. Curtains and a tablecloth of incongruously cheery calico that look like they may have previously been sheets over the windows. She lights a fire in the stone fireplace and starts making tea.

Imogen: It’s . . . nice. Must be nice ‘n’ quiet out here.

Laudna: Thank you so much for dinner. I haven’t eaten so well in ages.

Imogen: Just bein’ neighborly. Must be hard, settlin’ in a new town.

Laudna: Certainly, it hasn’t been easy . . . but I have hopes that this town will be better than the last.

Panel 3: Laudna pours hot water into two mismatched cups. Dried chamomile blossoms float on the top. There’s a jar containing a lump of comb honey on the table.

Imogen: Do you move around a lot?

Laudna: More than most, I suppose. I’ll be living in some little nook like this on the fringes of town, just minding my own business, and the next thing I know there’s some cleric at my door trying to exorcize me or an angry mob outside all, “Wooo~ Burn the witch! Heretic! Abomination!” and then I have to start all over again somewhere else.

Imogen: Laudna, that’s awful!

Laudna: Eh. I’m used to it by now.

Panel 4: They’re sitting at the table on the upturned crates. Laudna leans over to address something under the table.

Imogen: Don’t you get lonesome?

Laudna: Oh, I’m not alone.

Imogen: You’re not?

Laudna: (singing) ♪Oh, Pâté!♪ Come meet our new friend Imogen.

Panel 5: She holds out the creature she has been carrying on her belt — a scraggly-looking dead rat with a raven skull for a head — and raises her other hand over him. Dark sinewy strings begin to drip from her fingertips to his limbs and head.

Panel 6: He snaps his head up, his skull beak parting in a grin, and speaks.

Pâté: ‘Ello, Miss Imogen! Pleased ter make your acquaintance. My name is Pâté de Rolo, of the illustrious family de Rolo!

#critical role #critical role fanart #critical role comic #laudna #imogen temult #pate de rolo #it's him!#a long road home #mintywolf

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apomaro-mellow · 8 months

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Guitar!Steve 3

Eddie liked Crash's mom. She was the most casual and welcoming of his friend's moms. Jeff's mother took some time warming up to him. Gareth's mom still called him "that boy". His own mother...well the less said about her the better.

That wasn't to say Mrs. Crash's Mom didn't have rules. No shoes on the couch, no touching her cider, and all that jazz. That is to say, Eddie was rightfully nervous about the fact that he'd accidentally taken something of hers and used it to conjure up a whole entire person.

They got to Crash's house and she was in the kitchen, stirring something. She turned and her eyes immediately went to Steve. Before leaving Eddie's trailer, they'd dressed him properly in a shirt and jeans.

"You didn't", she said as she grabbed Steve's chin, turning it this way and that before looking at the whole lot of them. "Which one of you did it?"

Three hands pointed at Eddie right away.

"I-"

"Where did he come from? What was your wish?"

"He's...", Eddie hadn't thought much about telling his friends, but telling a friend's mom? Now the reality and embarrassment was sinking in. "...Uh, he's..."

"I'm his Sweetheart", Steve replied with a smile.

"I don't need to hear anymore", she said, pulling away from him. "Clearly an inanimate object come to life the question is what is the consequence." She began ladling what she had been stirring into bowls.

"Are you making soup in the morning?", Gareth asked.

"I'm making candles, boy. You all can get some cereal from the pantry if you're hungry." Then she pointed to Steve. "You, come help me get something."

Eddie watched as his Sweetheart was pulled away from the rest of them and he anxiously patted at Crash's shoulder. "Hey hey-hey, where's she taking him? Where's she taking my baby?"

Crash looked out the kitchen window. "Over to the garden."

"To do what?", Eddie hissed.

"Whenever my mom takes me to the garden it's usually for a life changing talk. She took me out there when grandma died. And when I got my first pube."

Eddie looked out the window and saw the two of them kneeling by some bushes, picking something and placing them into baskets. Eddie paced, looking up occasionally to see them but couldn't discern what they were talking about. The other three were dutifully eating some cereal.

When the two returned from outside, each carrying a small basket of berries, Eddie immediately went to Steve's side, trying to see if he was okay but was brushed off by Crash's mom.

"Eddie, you're helping me make the jam. Crescent, take your friends, and this one as well", she gestured to Steve. "I need you to deliver some eggs and honey."

Crash groaned and Eddie protested, not wanting to part from Steve again but it was never easy to deny this woman. Soon, he was left alone with her, making jam in a giant pot. They talked a long while. About what life would mean for Steve. About what this new adventure would mean for Eddie. If he was ready for it, to take care of his Sweetheart.

If he was ready to be depended on like that. Eddie was tempted to answer right away. But she knew more about Eddie's life than even if friends. She had been friends with the late Mrs. Munson. So Eddie truly considered it when she asked if he was ready to take care of Steve in all the ways he needed.

When Steve and the boys returned, he ran to Eddie like he was a magnet and kissed him. God his Sweetheart was so sweet, almost like honey. Eddie pulled back, a question in his eyes.

Steve put a finger to his lips. "Don't tell, but we dipped our fingers in a little", he whispered.

"Secret's safe with me, baby." Eddie kissed him again and felt Steve's hands go to his hips.

"You taste good too", Steve murmured against his mouth.

Eddie was about to reveal that he'd dipped a spoon into the jam when someone cleared their throat.

"Well I can tell how only your wish got granted", Crash's mom said. "It takes a very powerful desire to change reality. The stones don't work for just any wish."

Everyone helped with jarring the jam and both Steve and Eddie knew that whatever came next, they'd be in it together for the long haul.

"You know, I just realized", Jeff started to say. "Eddie's never gonna have to meet Steve's parents."

There were a few chuckles from that but Jeff's words caused Eddie to have his own epiphany.

"Oh shit. Steve's gotta meet Wayne."

END

Thank yall for reading this one and all your votes! See ya later :)

Tag Team

@tinyplanet95

#apo writes #stranger things #fanfiction #steddie #hellfire club

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mask131 · 2 months

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The Dionysos gallery (2)

Next on our travel down the Dionysos museum, we have an entire section dedicated to the Bacchanals in painting - with a few analysis here and there.

Titien's The Bacchanal of the Andrians

The Museum's website adds that this depicts the legend of how Dionysos gifted the inhabitants of the island of Andros with a river of wine. It was one of the numerous "miracles" attributed to the god by folk-belief when he became the god of the grapevine. Already in his "Bacchants" Euripides had told how, by touching a stone with his thyrsus he created a stream of fresh water, and where his narthex had touched the ground a stream of wine flowed ; and those that sought milk only had to scratch the ground near the god to see it flow, and from the god's thyrsus honey dropped...

In Ionia, on the island of Teos, a similar legend existed: it was said, by Diodor of Sicily and Pline the Elder, that at a fixed date in a calendar a stream of wine regularly flowed. At Elis, on the eve of the god's feast-day, empty jars and jugs were sealed and left alone in Dionysos' temple: by the morning, when they were opened, they were filled to the brim with wine.

Giovanni Bellini and Titien's The Feast of the Gods

The museum adds this mention: the painting is a depiction of the legend of Lotis collected by Ovid. One night, as the gods had a feast, the nymph Lotis fell asleep. Priapus got close to her, and with his famous ithyphallic nature, he decided to rape her. But as he was about to touch her body, the donkey of Silenus started making loud noises - waking up everybody, including Lotis. Lotis fled from Priapus' embrace, and all the gods laughed and mocked the god.

This painting was most notably the favorite painting of Fernand Botero.

Dosso Dossi's Bacchanal with a drunk Silenus and Bacchants frolicking around grapevine

Niccolo Frangipane's Bacchanal

Nicolas Poussin's Bacchanal

Nicolas Poussin's Bacchanal with a guitar player ; also called "Great Bacchanal"

Nicolas Poussin's Bacchic Scene

Pier Francesco Mola's Bacchus supervising the Satyrs pressing wine

Gerrit van Bronckhorst's Bacchanal with Silenus

Jacob van Loo's Scene with Bacchants

Michaelina Wautier's Bacchanal

Jacques Jordaens' Bacchanal

Giulio Carpioni's Bacchanal

Michel-Ange Houasse's Bacchanal

Francesco Zuccarelli's Bacchanal

#dionysos #the art of the myth #dionysus #bacchanal #the dionysos gallery #silenus #bacchants #greek mythology #painting #art

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agentnatesewell · 4 months

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tremendous tasks, dear friends

the wayhaven chronicles | barbara robertson (f!detective) / nate sewell / mason + family (lucas daniels) | 5k words | rated G

happy holidays to @delucadarling on this twelfth night and epiphany eve! i have simply fallen in love with barbie and had such a wonderful time writing for her for the @wayhavensecretsanta

.🎄.

Within the forested woods surrounding a deceptively inconspicuous town, one brimming with holiday cheer and festive wishes, bustling with last-minute preparations of a yuletide celebration for humans and supernaturals alike, sits a dilapidated building. A relic of a time ago, thought abandoned and unbothered, hiding a veiled mansion beyond its crumbling facade.

In this warehouse, now as familiar as home, Barbara Robertson - detective or agent depending on when and who one asks - sits in the center of the living room elegantly dressed for the season. One last task, a final check-in, for the next day’s Wayhaven Christmas Fete remains, and her trusted Filofax is set securely nearby, traded for a cup of steaming, glasses-fogging drinking chocolate. Hands warming against the gold rimmed and whimsically painted precious porcelain, she shifts her attention from event planning to listening, intently, of past traditions once forgone and now renewed.

In this living room, now his home, Nathaniel Sewell - agent and acting commanding agent, a temporary promotion until their team leader returns from a self assigned important mission - sits adjacent, on the floor with long legs tucked beneath him; sweeping his hand over carefully laid materials, collected from the nature surrounding them, on the ivory lace-embroidered cloth covered coffee table. He picks out a hard confection from a glass jar in the middle of the table, passes it to her then reminisces, “My earlier days, when I was with my family, during the Advent period before Christmas Day, my brother and I would spend the morning hours collecting what we could on our grounds. Not dissimilar to what we’ve found on our strolls in town and the community garden this autumn.”

Long branches of holly from the gardens, deepest green leaves with sharp, curved edges, clusters of bright, reddest berries; vines of ivy growing along on the outer stone of their home, long stems dense with lined green and white leaves; hardy sprigs of rosemary from their kitchen window garden, fragrant and robust; precious bundles of mistletoe, from the town’s nursery, with pretty pearlescent white berries; and perhaps his most prized possession of the season, from a bespoke shoppe, a singular pear sitting on a bed of gold foil.

“Are you making a wreath,” she inquires, leaning closer to the greenery. Fingers already occupied with proffered candy instinctively seek her pencil, and blindly slide behind her ear, in case there is need to write any pertinent information of this tradition. As she inspects, Barbie notices there isn’t any sort of evergreen present that she’d become accustomed to with modern wreaths, though perhaps Nate had used all he could find to festoon along the fireplace mantle, perhaps all the evergreen in Wayhaven and the surrounding forest.

“A Christmas Bough.” The corners of his eyes crinkle as a smile plays at the corner of his mouth, voice trailing and he falls into a fog of nostalgia, happy memories returning to overshadow those which usually haunt him. As his thoughts fade, Nate chances a glance at Barbie, and he is pulled back into the present. For behind a curling strand of her blond hair, fallen away from her gilded claw clip, peeks a twist of red and white, and the scent of peppermint. The pencil which is usually there in her hand, in peril of becoming her drink stirrer.

“Barbie?”

“Nate?” The abrupt change in his tone, now alarmed, draws Barbie away from her study. She looks up towards him, green eyes peering over her red plaid-rimmed glasses, taking note at how amusement highlights the honeyed hues of his brown eyes, and how he’s closing the already narrow gap between them, brows raised questioningly and silently awaiting permission to come closer.

And it is easy for her to grant him such permission, as Nate is always so careful, comforting, safe, even in this spontaneity, and Barbie is quite curious what it is that has attracted his attention.

The brush of his thumb across her cheek, his fingers curling at her temple and over the shell of her ear prove far more exhilarating than any spice and sugar rush incurred during the holiday season. Nate chuckles, deep and resonating, just as silver bells sing, and he pulls away, his palm open. “You might find that peppermint candy complements the dark chocolate of your beverage far more than your pencil might.”

“What,” Barbie looks at her cup, pencil between the rim and its high handle, and groans. “Oh my god.” Shaking her head, she drops the utensil with a sharp laugh. “Guess I needed this break. Helping Tina organize the Fete at the station this year is keeping me busier than I imagined. Especially with all of,” she waves her hand, “this.”

Nate knows she is referencing her continued training with the Agency and on-call, standby assistance for the Wayhaven Police Department’s local cases - taking a holiday encouraged, always, during their sporadic diners at the local bistro - but does hope she has been enjoying the past week spent transforming their, in his opinion, humble home into a Christmas wonderland so expertly designed, it would rival the most elegant department store displays. And though Adam and, by order, Unit Bravo, had been convinced by Nate’s suggestion of team building exercises, Barbie has been enjoying herself. Excitement casting her in gold and silver radiance, she is even more breathtaking, indulging herself in the season. Dressed in themed ensembles, time made and spent introducing Farah to popcorn tins and Christmas themed movies, baking and icing so many cookies, decorating while singing tunes so delightful, he has been humming them both in tandem and alone.

Regardless, Barbie deserves empathy and understanding, and a second candy cane. “May I say that the Fete has been coming along quite nicely, and will surely be memorable for years to come.”

“You may,” she accepts his compliment, allowing her fingers, nails painted to resemble ribbon tied gift wrap, to just barely glide along his as she accepts the candy. To avoid a repeat of a near miss, Barbie stirs her drinking chocolate with the straight side of the candied stick, inhaling the melding scents as the steam rises and evaporates into the air. “Thank you, Nate.”

Pleasant moment aside, and desperately needing the embarrassing moment aside, Barbie points the candy cane, melting end, at the table. “Tell me about your Christmas Bough. I thought it was called a Kissing Bough?”

Nate nods. “You’re correct. Formally, these were called Christmas Boughs, and traditionally, Kissing Boughs. Every year, from when we could carry in ash wood or willow wood branches, our bough would adorn the doorway to our drawing room, welcoming our guests for the many parties held during the twelve days post Christmas. Usually family, many cousins, family friends.”

Barbie places her cup on the table, resting her elbow on the edge, listening intently once more. The cadence of his voice again melodic, a nostalgic recitation in celebration of a life passed instead of a sorrow of a life lost.

“One modern convenience this year.” Nate points to a neat stack of green craft wire, set opposite of the shining pear. “Bending curved tree branches into circles is much easier these days, but I would like to focus more on this particular foliage”

“Do they hold any meaning?” She asks, knowing too well that rarely does Nate take on a task casually.

“Holly,” Nate works as he speaks, nimble hands still familiar with the process from centuries ago, tying the branches together with the wire, a blur of green and red repeating until creating a circle. “Everlasting life.”

The irony is not lost on Barbie. By how Nate blinks his eyes, an attempt to keep them clear, she knows it’s not lost on him, either. But then he clears his throat, shapes his mouth back into a smile, and transfers the rest of the holly branches and half of the wire to the space in front of her. An offer to join him, and she obliges; observing and enamored by his hands, mirroring his motions to create a second circle.

“Ivy,” Nate continues, “dependence and endurance. Rosemary, remembrance.” Running the tip of a finger along the leaves, breathing in the released fragrance, he takes a deep breath. Another breath.

As silence grows, the bough making process is acknowledged as a memorial by them both. When her half is complete and returned to him, Barbie lays a hand on Nate’s shoulder. Immediately, she feels him relax, and this time the deep breath is an exhalation. When he turns to her, his smile is genuine, grateful for her grace. “Thank you. My apologies, for my sentimentality.”

“What about the mistletoe?” She squeezes his shoulder, and hopes the question cheers him up.

“Ah, mistletoe.” Nate lifts a bundle for himself, a second one for Barbie. She keeps it for herself. “A good luck charm. One could, during the celebratory period, greet their guests or each other for a kiss. A suitor could kiss the one they wished to court, on the cheek, and we did make sure all parties were in accordance. All would hope to be kissed, lest they endure the bad luck of being left out. There was a limit, as with every kiss, a berry would be picked. When all was gone, the kissing ceased.” He chuckles, picking a single spray which had fallen out of place. “Milton’s pockets would be full by night’s end, as he was rather outgoing and effortlessly charming.”

Barbie plucks a gem-like berry to roll between her fingers, twisting her lips as her gaze shifts towards Nate, finding he has done the same. It comes as a surprise to them both, a happy and quite welcome surprise, when Barbie closes the space between, kissing Nate’s cheek. Drawing away, she puts the berry in his palm. “There, now you have one, too.”

Behind a second, cordial-ish, exchange, through the doorway of this living room which has yet to bear the meaningful ornament of greeting, shaking bruising snowflakes off the jacket he’s worn during his overnight patrol of the town - stubborn to accept the order to dress weather-appropriately from their temporary leader, until an approving hum from Barbie, he will keep to himself that he did not mind the shearling-lined leather moto jacket that kept him from freezing - Mason grimaces at the warm welcome of glittering ornaments, the droning and inescapable music repeating too many damn times, and the strong and tangled scents of cassis, eucalyptus, white musk, and pine.

Thick blankets of snow keep him from his reprieve on the rooftop, and if it was any other season besides one that compels humans to decorate their homes with garish and gaudy blinking lights, corral them into the streets to sing in groups, he would volunteer to take the next patrol. But it isn’t wholly terrible, though. In the living room he can wait for Barbie to tie up any loose-ends, as she’d called them, with her next-day festival preparation; maybe Nate will help her, and Mason can retreat to the quietest and dimmest corner of the room to look out the window and watch the hidden parts of the forest, untouched by merry well-wishers.

Her voice cuts through his annoyance, happier he knows but unsure how to tell. She sounds like she did the other day as he watched her hang monogrammed stockings over the fireplace, Nate explaining some change, some rise and fall in her sound, more cheerful. When he hears Barbie laugh, the tension in his body fades, and the abrasive reminders of the season taunting his senses fall into the background. Mason sheds his coat, rubbing his hands over his arms to avoid losing too much heat too fast, and follows a conversation to the middle of the room, in front of the couch and on the floor.

Too far to perch on the arm of the velvet armchair, where he’s most comfortable when Barbie is around, he instead sits on the edge of the coffee table, angling away from the herbs and plants invading his senses. Any other time the seemingly innocuous rosemary would have him retreating, but she turns to him. And Barbie is fucking - glowing. Mason blinks, wondering if his retinas are taking longer to heal from the morning’s snow glare than usual. Still glowing with a pink tint to her cheeks, and damnit if that halo around her doesn’t make him think of that angel on top of their second Christmas tree, and damnit that he’s lost the cool edge to his entrance.

“Elf got your tongue, sunshine?” Barbie asks, smoothest he’s ever seen her, at least with a candy cane between her teeth.

In his periphery, Mason spots a small bundle of leaves and the plant is easily identifiable. Cheap, plastic replicas in abundance at the previous night’s party in some sort of garden dome when he’d walked through the park on his route. He swipes a sprig and twirls it, answering, “Wouldn’t mind you catching my ton-”

“Hello, Mason,” Nate sighs, tying what is left of the mistletoe together. “How was your patrol?”

Giggling teenagers and metal scraping at the ice rink and the entire town smells of vanilla, chocolate and sugar, that flashing robotic Santa waving in the air are all enough to keep anything interesting from happening; too chaotic to focus any magic, too much of a headache to get up to any trouble. Mason shrugs, “Same old.”

Settled, finally giving notice to whatever Nate and Barbie are actually doing, Mason juts his chin in the direction of the circles of holly. “You aren’t done decorating this place yet?”

“It’s a Kissing bough,” Barbie explains, rising to her knees to meet Mason. Nate subtly coughs the alternative ‘Christmas bough’, likely as a means to keep the atmosphere light and less hot, less heavy - wholesome! “When you’re under, you give a kiss, and get a reward.” She leans in, one hand on his thigh and he grins, arm slinking around her waist, ready for a knock-her-tights-off kind of kiss. But instead of her mouth, his is met with a waxy, tasteless and not sticky clump of berries. “It’s not up yet, Mason.” Smiling, having amused herself, she sits at the coffee table once more, awaiting Nate’s next instruction.

“You’re welcome to join us, if you would like to thread this wire through the pear.” Nate knows he is pushing Mason’s good will and willingness to participate in any more decorating, yet persists with his inclusion. “This should be our final project.”

“Wait! One more!”

From a flash of purple and a cloud of glitzing gingerbread scents and mirth, attention is captured towards the fir and cedar garlanded mantle in this living room, and standing between a cozy, crackling fire and the main Christmas tree, eight feet all and so elegantly adorned, skirt at the base holding exquisitely wrapped gifts, is Farah Hauville - home from one last visit to the Christmas Tree Lot at the edge of town for the season before taking over agent patrol for the rest of the day - standing atilt, resting an elbow on the top branch of a small, a quite small pine tree.

Amber eyes sparkling with triumph, Farah sweeps her hand out in an arc, resting it on her hip. “Ta da! What do you all think? Natey, Barbie? Mason.”

Not just quite small, the tree is rather sparse. Uneven weight distribution, inconsistent branch thickness and needle distribution - some thick with vibrant needles while others rather pale and almost white, some with just tufts at the end. A lone pinecone sits towards the base, and there may have been a debate if the bird’s nest fell or broke apart.

Nate stands, stepping slowly and surely to the tree, mind whirling as he thinks of how to express his thoughts; keep Farah from being crestfallen, express his gratitude for her enthusiasm, how to hide the tree in plain sight and preferably outside. “Certainly a unique tree,” he manages, “though, I do wonder if it would be better suited in the hallway. Could be set in an urn outside of your bedroom door and we can bedeck after your shift - wrap a strand of fairy lights, drape tinsel, use the rest of the ribbon.”

“Knew you’d say that,” Farah replies, bouncing, “This tree has been in that lot since it opened, and no one has given it a chance! A second look! I know it’s not pretty, it doesn’t match the other trees we brought home. It’s not perfect,” Farah flails her arms, pointing to the three other trees in the room that could have been portraits in a magazine. “But it deserves love, doesn’t it? Like the great philosopher, Linus, said.”

“Linus? I’m not familiar with their work.” Nate pokes at a dull needle with this index finger. “Unless you mean Linus of Thrace, the musician.”

Barbie soon joins, shadowed by Mason, and circles the tree to study it. “‘Charlie Brown Christmas’. Farah and I watched while you read ‘The Gift of the Magi’.”

“You were even playing the song the next day,” Farah remarks, miming him at the piano. He nods in response, fingertips brushing along the edge of a healthier branch. She continues her plea, turning to throw her arms out, wide and dramatic, and quotes, “‘I never thought it was such a bad little tree. It’s not bad at all. Maybe it just needs a little love.’”

“Farah,” Nate rubs the back of his neck, knowing she’d likely practiced her speech during her last few patrols about town. The tree truly does not fit in with the well planned out, specific aesthetic of the room but he is moved by her effort, her passion. “I can promise to find space for it. In here.”

To the great shock of everyone, Mason grabs a smooth, circular red ornament from the main tree, fixes it to a sagging branch on the new addition. He comments before Nate can protest, “I like it. It’s irregular, obviously intended by nature to be so. Has character. Leave it where it is, at least it’ll be something interesting to look at.”

Barbie stops pacing, following Mason’s lead, with a green ornament she hangs on an opposite, slightly lighter branch. Just a little trimming, tinsel and lights and ribbon, and this tree could truly be special. One of a kind. Its own new tradition.

It gives her an idea.

Leaving the others to discuss re-arrangement, Barbie walks back to sit on an empty space of the coffee table to consult the ‘CF’ section of her Filofax. A layout of the main room of the Christmas Fete is centered by a hallway length runner rug with tables at either side for Haley’s hot cocoa and treats station, beginning at an entry arch and a dais at its end. On the side of the page, the cast. Elves - Len’s kid and Douglas, Mrs. Claus - Tina, Santa Claus - Lucas, making his debut.

Lucas, her beloved brother and subject of her final, most important task - confirming his, and Adam’s, flight details and estimated arrival. Barbie checks the time, and tapping her phone screen she notes alerts from his airline. Five minute delay, ten minute delay, confirmation of arrival, a text from him.

Another hour or two from the city, and Barbie and Lucas will be reunited after far too long apart - and she can hardly wait! Smiling to herself, singing to herself that song from their childhood Christmas pageant, Barbie pencils in a small tree in the space between Mrs. and Santa Claus. She calls to the group, asking Farah, “Could you bring this Charlie Brown Tree to the Fete tomorrow? It’s just the right size, wouldn’t be in Lucas and Tina’s way. Added bonus, the people in town seeing what they missed out on, how a little love goes a long way.”

Nate places a hand to his chest, mouthing a ‘thank you’ to Barbie. Farah claps hers in excitement. “It would be an honor! I’m going to get Nate’s decoration box and get this little guy ready for the show! I’ll drop it off at the station.” Taking a hold of the tree at its base, Farah lifts it like a piece of paper and runs off and out of the room. And it is a testament to Nate’s reflexes and agility that he catches the two ornaments shaken off, and returns them to their home.

A ring of Barbie’s phone interrupts the calm in Farah’s wake.

Video call, her mirror image on the screen and Barbie gives her glasses a quick adjustment before swiping her finger across the glass to answer.

“Ho, ho, ho!” A voice bellows, and there is a grinning Lucas, dark brown hair expertly mussed under the brim of his vintage, thrift-shop treasure, red flannel and white wool Santa Hat. “Merry Christmas!”

Barbie waves, laughing, widening the camera view to show off the living room, then back to her. Nate greets Lucas, unsure where to stand and if he can even see him, moves to lean over Barbie’s shoulder where the pocket of his brown leather jacket fills the display. His own cellular phone rings and he excuses himself to answer. Mason shakes his head, and, arms folded, walks to settle on the edge of the couch.

Back to Lucas, and now Barbie spots a twinkling flash against the red of his hat, one more, behind him white snow flurrying and thickening with each passing second. His voice muffled, harsh streaks of wind silencing him, though she can pick up the unmistakable and clear, deep accent of Adam Du Mortain, calm and authoritative.

There is a leaden, sinking feeling in her stomach.

“Snow squall,” she finally hears, and when did Lucas move? Blurred behind the camera lens, he has found shelter inside the doors of the airport. Fellow travelers behind him converge into small groups, collective voices rising in confusion and frustration relaying the news to their loved ones. Airplanes had been taking off and landing, no imminent threat of weather. “Barbie, roads are closed, don’t know when they’ll open. Promise I’ll be home as soon as I can, but I’m not sure I’ll be able to make the Fete tomorrow.”

“Oh. Okay,” she answers, nodding, glancing around the room to find Nate speaking animatedly and Mason watching snow swirling outside. “Just stay safe, Luke, alright? Keep me updated. Is Adam with you?”

“Ordering the weather to behave,” he chuckles, attempting to keep her spirits from crashing. “Look, Barbie, I’m sorry.”

Trying to formulate a plan, alternatives and logistics, how to inform Tina, Barbie doesn’t respond until she hears her name again. She shakes her head, “It’s alright. Take your time. We will figure this out. Don’t do anything hasty or dangerous, you need to come home in one piece.” Barbie looks at the screen again, zoom tighter on Lucas, notices the same plush red and fluffy white at his shoulders. “Are you wearing your Santa costume?”

“If you’re going to travel for the holidays, you’ve got to travel in style and make a big entrance. Besides, someone has to spread holiday cheer amongst the masses.”

“Keep them distracted and don’t have too much fun. Again, stay safe. I’ll talk to you soon.”

As she ends the call, Barbie consults her Filofax, searching for an answer. Surely, she wrote up a back-up plan for Santa, Mrs. Claus, and the Elves, and she did but Sung committed to the community Christmas Feast. She turns to a blank page, scribbles thoughts - Surely, Adam will take care of Lucas. Surely, Mrs. Claus could take the place of her husband, saying he needs a head start on his journey, the children could video-chat with him.

“Barbie,” Nate’s voice is as understanding and gentle as his gait, taking a seat next to her, patting her back with a touch so light it does not register. He finds Mason, raising his brows and tilting his head and in seconds, Mason stands before them. “I spoke with Adam. Unexpected change of weather a few miles northwest of the city, might be due to magic gone awry, and does not appear to be malicious. Unit Golf has been dispatched to secure the situation, and Adam will be working with them. Bravo is on standby, but he feels this should be contained without our intervention.”

Mason shrugs, Barbie is still writing in her organizer.

Turning towards her, Nate’s smile is encouraging, “Now, you are in need of a Saint Nicholas for your Christmas Fete tomorrow. Do you have Lucas’ costume? He and I are of similar build and height, and I would be glad to stand in for him.”

Barbie, facial muscles finally moving and her mouth falling into an unintentionally pretty pout, unlocks her phone, finds her text messages, and brings up a picture to show him, then Mason. Lucas, mid-laugh, Santa hat flopping to the side, Santa jacket open with a white shirt underneath, Santa trousers on underneath, standing with a not so stiff shouldered, slightly amused Adam in the midst of white and colored glistering lights. “Spreading so much cheer that he performed a holiday miracle, making Adam smile.”

Mason, concerned with the pallor of her skin and the dullness in her eyes, crouches down and pats his pockets, where his now banished cigarettes were once stored - to prevent a fire hazard in this room of shimmering, glimmering potential kindling - pulls out a package, a monstrosity, a little cake shaped like an evergreen tree, an emergency treat purchased at the convenience store. Smushed, and he decides there is no way he will let her raise her blood sugar with something that tastes like plastic. “Eat something if you’re going into figuring-out mode. Maybe not this, I’ll get you something that doesn’t look like reindeer vomit.”

Nate, rubbing his bottom lip with this thumb, remembers the prior year’s Christmas celebrations. A truly magical time in this already magical town, every year healing from the tragedies at the start of their permanent tenure. He recalls a certain gentleman, an embodiment of the legend and a hero to each child, reading their name from a scroll and making them believe to be the most special. “Mr. Rockwell. He was treasured, and enjoyed the role.”

“Retired. Out of town to visit his new grandchild.” Barbie taps her pencil against the cover of her Filofax. Nate’s mention of the Santa Claus of the past decade, of his generosity and love, his joy infectious, reminds her of a conversation - between Mr. Rockwell and his wife, Lucas and Tina, and her. A transition of tradition.

“Wait.” Her eyes open wide, sparkling once more with another idea. “We are brilliant! Mr. Rockwell left us his suit, even though it was too short for Lucas, something about keeping the Christmas spirit. It should still be at the station, I’ll call Tina to confirm.”

Once more in the middle of this living room, Mason returns to see two faces look at him expectantly, and though there is some he does not understand, he understands the faces of two schemers. Especially one who has talked him into decorating more than he ever thought he would in eternity, and one he would do just about any damn thing for. He shoves the cookie, on a napkin to avoid another lecture by Nate, towards Barbie. “Eat this. And what do you both want?”

“Tina said the Santa costume is at the station, and she’s running a lint roller over it to get rid of any dust. You’re about Mr. Rockwell’s height -”

“No.”

Nate makes a second attempt, honeyed words pleading, “for no more than two hours. It would mean so much to this town that has become our home. It would mean -”

“I’m not dealing with any little brat screaming in my ears about some presents.”

“It would mean a lot to me,” Barbie finishes for Nate, flatly. “We will keep the kids calm, Nate and Farah will entertain them. Tina will talk to them, and you can just check their names against a roster and repeat their wish. Then take a picture with them.”

“Nope. Besides, we’re supposed to be in the shadows.”

Nate nods, acknowledging that Mason is correct. The accessories, such as the full, white beard, may be uncomfortable for him, as well as the inevitable sounds which come with the excitement of children. It may not be such a fair ask, and there may be some other possibilities. “Babs, there may be some adjustments I can have made to the suit, to accompany the length of my arms and legs. The tailor in town, I am sure, is quite busy. I can, however, make a request with ours at the Agency.”

An attempt to speak comes out as a squeak, and Barbie throws her arms around Nate’s shoulders in a hug. “Thank you, Nate. Really. We should go now, and get to your tailor as soon as possible.”

Mason, silver eyes sharp and observant, regards Barbie and he guesses she’s relieved, with the sharp exhale of breath, taking a bite of the cookie and writing down some last notes. There is an errant thump in his chest, and he rubs his palm against it. Then regards Nate, also exhaling a breath, longer, and his hands slide into his pockets, their refuge.

And damnit, her smile is making his jaw tingle, and he stretches it to alleviate that sensation. Damnit, she is so fucking beautiful like this, merry and jovial. And, groaning, Mason drags his hand down his face, wrapping his fingers behind his neck.

He thinks he might regret this for eternity, but then figures that being able to do what Nate is doing, make her glow like that again, so ecstatic? Maybe that’ll make an afternoon of misery worth everything.

“Wait,” he reaches, finding Barbie’s hand, and pulls them both up. “You just have to promise to stay near me, alright, sweetheart?”

Barbie’s mouth falls open, and she truly is stunned, frozen in place as she processes his answer. She then grins, thanking him with a kiss to his cheek. “You got it, Santa.”

In the midst of hazing lights, luminous trees and the rising dawn of the Eve, there is a stir. In this living room, under a bough and honoring the custom of the mistletoe, a couple hushes each other between deep kisses and berry extraction. His senses are heightened once more, and he grumbles an announcement of visitors. She spies past the door and wishes, one small wish, that he will appear.

And to her delight, they are not just any visitors.

The commanding agent will claim this a completed, successful mission, but with a hearty and robust, “Merry Christmal to all!”, Lucas will say that with a little magic, he fulfilled his Christmas promise.

fin.

#the wayhaven chronicles #twc fanfic #wayhavensecretsanta #nate sewell #twc mason #mar writes twc

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ithaquakisser · 1 year

Note

Hello!! I have a request (also a thought) what if the reader used to be Ithaquas friend but ended up being a victim of his brother and we end up kind of like his mom(or dead lmfao)…really angsty idk man I really need some pain rn

When The Wind Cries

Synopsis; You find yourself falling victim to the hands of Nathaniel Norwell.

CW; Graphic depictions of violence, gore, religious imagery, asphyxiation, depictions of anxiety and PTSD.

WC; ≈2.6k

Note; My apologies for not getting to your request sooner! I've been working a teensy bit slow as of lately and I have recently closed my requests, but I will make yours an exception. I just could not resist this lovely idea! 🫶

Your first moments together were shared in the midst of the snow. The aromatic scent of pine and cedarwood filled your senses, shivers trailing down your spine from the occasional winter breeze that’d pass you by. The air was light, and each breath you took was visible to the naked eye. Your fingertips were as cold as ice, holding a woven basket of herbs in your calloused hands. Ingredients were scarce at this time of the year, as well livestock.

Your hair danced with the arctic wind, a pair of cerulean hues meeting yours amidst the flurry. His eyes conveyed the frigid lakes that were enclosed in a thin sheet of ice whilst his platinum waves waltzed with the zephyr before him. Fur cloak flowing alongside the gale, he held a hunting knife in his hand. Behind him stood a young woman with fair skin, her auburn locks were akin to flames ignited in a wintry landscape. A woven basket like yours in hand, she carried a benign smile on her pale face.

With the roaring wind in your ears, you could not bring yourself to remember the boy’s name. Albeit the moments you shared were incised into your mind like stone. You vaguely recall the warmth emitting from the fireplace, brushing against your ruby-tinted cheeks as you held a cup of hot herbal tea in your hands. The mellow, dulcet taste of honey lingering on your tastebuds. The young man’s delighted expression to have someone to call a friend.

You mused the feeling of benevolence and tenderness in your heart after what felt like eons of solitude spent after the passing of your parents. For a brief moment, you aspired to shed a tear. You faintly remember the voice of your mother. Your father’s face was merely a blur in your collection of memories. Muffled under bundles of woolen blankets, you hearkened to the young woman’s voice as she sang a tune ever so familiar.

From that night on, you’d often meet the boy in your solitary chalet in the midst of the woods. He often bore gifts, a basket that contained medicinal herbs, a jar of honey, and roasted fowl. “Mother insisted I delivered these to you.” He spoke, his cheeks flushed a tinge of scarlet. “She is often concerned for your well-being. Based on my knowledge, your parents have passed on, have they?” You nodded your head in response as you averted your eyes from his, accepting the gifts.

“My sincerest apologies. Mother says you may visit anytime if you wish. It must be difficult living alone, isn’t it?” You swallowed, lowering your gaze. “I’ve simply been managing.” “If I may ask, what led to their passing?” You fidgeted with the hem of your scarf, burying your face into the soft fabric. “The plague has run rampant during the seasons. It took them both in their sleep. I’ve inherited this cabin in their stead following their death.”

“Before you question any more, I… buried them myself.” You stated, setting the woven basket down at your bedside. You witnessed as his eyes widened, seemingly staggered by your revelation. He apologized multiple times, stumbling over his words as he spoke. “I didn’t mean to remind you of such occurrences, I—” You shook your head and hushed him with a smile, dismissing the conversation entirely.

For the remainder of the evening, the two of you were seated at your fireplace, conversing over a cup of tea. The fireplace crackled in your ears while you two brief moments exchanged laughter, all you felt was warmth in your heart. You didn’t wish for this moment to end, if only you could freeze time, perhaps your heart would finally be at ease. Your eyes threatened to shed tears of joy whilst the two of you spoke utter nonsense, you even found yourself tittering like a tall child under his presence. You could only ponder your reality, and if this were to last.

Several nights subsequently, you fell into a slumber. You hadn’t seen their faces again, but one akin to his own. A set of nails pierced into your skin as they clasped your wrist, raising your arm into the air as the crowd chanted falsehoods into your ears. You were blinded by the flaming torches illuminating the vicinity, salty tears streaming from the corners of your e/c eyes. You writhed under the man’s grip, collapsing to your knees.

You cried out your dear friend's name, each of your limbs restrained against your own will. You met face to face with a devilish grin that simply couldn’t be the man you had known. “You ignorant pest. You know my name very well, do you not? Speak it.” You spat at his face, the cloaked man wiping away at his cheek with a scowl. He elicited a growl, striking you to the ground as the crowd cheered. “Arrest them at once.” He demanded. You struggled underneath the crowd’s grasp as they raised you from the dirt, kicking your feet into the air as you thrashed around.

The crowd cried out profanities under your name as you were apprehended at will, hauled through the dirt whilst you shrieked. You had known well this couldn’t be your dear friend. You denied all the possibilities as you grit your teeth, meeting with a crowd that condemned you for your “sins.” Sins you had sworn you never once committed. Words that had never once escaped past your lips.

You were nothing but a toy of amusement for the magistrate’s son. A puppet bound by shackles, you hung your head low under a dim candle-lit chamber. Droplets of cerise poured from your nostrils, splattering upon impact against the pavement beneath you. He’d interrogate you, speaking words you didn’t quite understand. You couldn’t part your lips to speak, your hands trembling within chains. He’d raise his hand once more to strike upon your scarred face with a grimace.

All that filled your senses was the metallic smell and bitter taste of your blood. He grabbed your face with a complacent grin, his nails sinking into your flesh as your e/c eyes met his. “The fool doesn’t wish to speak it seems? What must I do to make you utter a sound?” You glowered as he spoke, his voice laced with poison. “Don’t look at me like that. Allow me to enlighten you with the fact I’ve been quite lenient with you.”

“This… Is leniency to you?” You coughed, traces of blood spilling from your lips. “Certainly. If I hadn’t been, you would be burning at the stake by now.” You scoffed. “I do not need your pity.” The young man leered mockingly, smearing your blood across your cheek with his thumb. “Is that so?” He murmured, you were overcome with a sense of disquietude as his lips curled into a sneer. A hand enveloped your neck, your eyes widening.

You floundered within your manacles, letting out a wince as your breathing was constricted by the cloaked man before you. His slim fingers were wrapped tightly around your throat, a devilish grin on his face whilst you gasped for air. “Now tell me, do you not need my mercy?” Salty beads of tears formed at the corners of your eyes, you could feel the man’s grip on your throat grow tighter with each passing moment.

“Stop… Please…” You uttered, tightly squeezing your eyes shut. Teardrops streamed down your bruised face, and your vision slowly began to blur. You gasped for air, choking out pathetic attempts of cries. “Stop? Why should I? After all, sinners must be punished for their sins.” His constricting grasp resulted in labored breathing, your chest heaved as you struggled to muster desperate breaths. Your vision succumbed to pitch black, a faint sound of chimes ringing in your ears.

The salty, metallic taste of life lingered on your tastebuds. You awoke to the cries of a young woman, a voice so familiar. The sound of her howls made you sick to your stomach. Utterly perturbed, your stomach twisted and turned as you heard her pleas. You kneeled on the cold pavement, hot tears seeping from your tired eyes. Your skin was battered in all shades of purple and blue, scars trailing down your flesh all the way down your waist. Your stomach churned, for you haven’t had any sustenance for the past several days.

Your lips were split in two, and your neck was covered in scratches and fingerprints. Your limbs were sore, your throat was hoarse. Dried blood was splattered along the stone tiles beneath you, a scourge dangling several feet from your direction. It mocked you from afar, grimacing as you recalled the sensation of the scourge piercing into your flesh. The sting that’d linger on your skin after a blade dances upon your skin. Or his nails that’d scrape against your fresh wounds. You were cursed to relive it countless times, repeatedly and eternally.

Until one night, you met with silence. You haven’t heard of the magistrate’s son, Nathaniel, for several days. Your heart began to patter in your ears the moment you heard footsteps coming your way. You espied the silhouette beneath the door before you, your eyes fixed on the light emitting from the cracks as it creaked open. You scrambled to the corner of the chamber, your shackles scraping alongside the stone pavement. The dim flames illuminated a young man’s face upon removing his mask, a face akin to your tormentor. Your hands trembled within your manacles as you shrieked. “Please! Leave me!”

He reached out a hand, to which you flinched in response. A sullen look on his face as he murmured. “Y/N… It’s me.” The young man removed his cloak, allowing it to fall at his feet. He bore a key, proceeding to remove your chains. They fell to the floor with a clank, a finger gently caressing the bruises on your wrists. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you sooner…”

You swallowed, perplexed you were as you stared at him doe-eyed. You couldn’t bring yourself to utter a single word, you averted your gaze from his and snatched your hands from his touch. He furrowed his brows and elicited a sigh, for you couldn’t bear to face him. Your heart silenced as he placed on his mask, offering his hand once more. With a wavering hand, you reluctantly placed yours upon his.

Enveloped in woolen blankets by a fireplace, this felt all too familiar. You gazed into the flames waltzing before you, the masked man spoke a name you didn’t quite recall. “Ithaqua.” He spoke, enunciating each syllable as he dragged a warm cloth over your torn lips. “You’re safe now… The two of you… are safe.” Ithaqua whispered, his voice faltering. He fought against tears beneath his featureless mask which shielded his face from yours at your own expense.

He recalled your shrieks of horror, how you’d physically recoil upon seeing his face. His mother couldn't even speak his given name, and she would wince at the slightest brush of his fingertips against her own. He’d encourage you to eat, yet you didn’t budge. You’d witness as he’d breakdown at the table, running his hands through his platinum locks with desperation. You could hear him sniffling underneath his mask, how his voice would waver each time he spoke. Ithaqua would reassure the two of you of your safety and well-being, albeit you couldn’t help but blench at his touch.

He’d tend to your wounds, your cuts, and your scrapes. A soft cloth brushed against your skin, a stinging sensation that caused you to yelp. Despite how mild his touch was, you’d find yourself shoving him away. You’d strike him, knocking his mask straight to the ground. You’d stare at him wide-eyed as your heart raced in distress. “Don’t touch me!” Ithaqua looked at you with a frown, his eyes glistening with tears that threatened to descend. “I’m… sorry.”

At dusk, you’d hear him muttering under his breath. His platinum hair draped over his mask, slender fingers running through his mother’s curls whilst she dozed by the fire. He sang a melody oh so familiar as you sat across him, the warmth deriving from the fireplace kissing your icy skin tenderly. “Rest, mother, I’ll watch the night.” He, himself, couldn’t bear to look at you as he sang. A feeling in his chest tugged at his heartstrings like a lyre.

When you succumbed to the land of Nod by the flames, Ithaqua enwrapped you in bundles of blankets. Ensuring that the cold wouldn’t disturb your rest. He’d leisurely remove his mask with a sigh, setting it aside. Placing a hand above yours, he reminisced the moments you two shared. The moments you’d beam from ear to ear and call out his name with bliss. Your cheeks tinted with a shade of baneberry whilst you chortled like a goober when you’d pitch a snowball toward his direction.

Yet you couldn't bring yourself to speak his name. Nor could you identify him as Ithaqua. For all you witnessed standing before you was the man who tormented you, who brought you misery and anguish. Engraved into your mind, was the man cloaked in red with a fiendish grin. Nathaniel Norwell.

When it felt like your world was collapsing before you, moments where you’d cry in hysteria out of pure dread, Ithaqua took your hands into his. Your e/c eyes darted from place to place, you took in sharp exhales as you wept. The masked man would encourage you to breathe in a voice ever so benign. “You’re here now… You’re okay…” He cooed. “Do you remember the snow, Y/N? You enjoyed making snowmen. Occasionally, you’d catch me off-guard when we’d go herb gathering and…”

His cerulean eyes met yours, yours that resembled icicles at the emergence of spring. “You… were my dearest friend. My first and foremost… Do you not remember, Y/N?” He faltered. You were utterly nonplussed, staring at the man before you with rheumy eyes. Ithaqua hung his head low, you observed the boy as he crumbled. He choked out a sob, his icy hands trembling within yours. “I’m sorry… Mother… I’m sorry… Y/N.”

Alas, the roaring wind’s cries fell to deaf ears. At twilight, the harsh winds grazed upon his tear-stained cheeks. Snowflakes licked at his loose locks, his fur cloak whirling within the gale. Hefting a distinctively large ice axe, he gazed into the raging blizzard before him. Fueled by resentment and ire, igniting straight within his core, he scorned the lunatics who dared set foot in these glacial woods. Brushing away the stray tears from his pale cheeks, a faint glimpse of light radiated upon his flushed face. Without a single word, he placed on his mask and descended into the snowy tempest.

At dawn, he’d return with his clothes stained with crimson. He kept vigil throughout the hours of darkness, underneath the clouded stars. You awoke to the clanking of his stilts against the wooden floorboards, he’d set his bloodstained axe aside and allowed the hood of his fur cloak to fall. His silver waves were ruffled, and the dim lights radiating from the flickering lanterns illuminated his weary face. You peered through half-lidded eyes, his icy hands tenderly caressing your cheek. You froze under his touch, bewildered by his actions. He spoke in a tone laced with care, a tone you weren’t quite familiar with.

“Rest, Y/N. I’ll take care of you and mother.”

Your eyes fluttered shut, his fingertips like cotton against your warm cheek. With a faint smile, he extinguished the lantern’s flame. You fell into slumber once more, hoping to someday awake from this nightmare. The young man couldn’t bear to witness his loved ones deteriorate before him. He kept the slightest lick of hope in his heart that perhaps, he’d hear his name once again. Even if that day were to never arrive, at least he has the two of you by his side.

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plasticfangtastic · 6 months

Text

American Royalty. Ch. 10

A Homelander X F! Reader/Dadlander fanfic.

A/N: sorry for the delay, I wrote another fic and that ate my time, hope y'all like the chapter, there's only 3 chapters left and the epilogue and now that kinktober its done I should be able to post the remaining chapters on time, if ya like to be on the taglist plz leave a comment with a request. prev. chapter here:

Tags: mild gore, angst, slow burn, fluff, oc characthers, child neglect, dadlander, romance, some spicy and murder.

Chapter Ten

Reconsidering

A lavish prison.

More rooms than ideas to fill them with– mere latrines for kisch.

Floors that screamed ugly opulence, the kind that made you yearn for the simplicity of owning nothing, of forced minimalism... or tasteful decor.

When you cracked your neck to witness the enormity of the seven story mansion (not counting the cellar basement and the terrace) the price tag had frightened you to the core more than the height, making you feel more than inadequate in visitation, as you had come in jeans and an ironic t-shirt to accompany him (not that you had a choice)-- as Homelander pulled you around from floor to floor, forcing you to walk alongside him from beige rooms to white rooms, past rich dark wood doors. So heavy they hurt your wrist, you worried for your future.

These were the things you could only witness in pictures.

“I hate the carpet.” He said coyly, trying to stand close to you without frightening you.

Looking down at the rug you’ve taken your shoes off for-- it was luxurious, it was nice for the somewhat dark library, the smell of curated cedar and walnut genuinely intoxicating. From a second glance it matched his taste in your mind, but you guess he was a lot more finicky than he already was– perhaps it wasn’t soft enough for him, you thought.

“I'd rather we just have the floors bare– it’ll be easier to clean.”

“Concerned about the maids already?”

“Maids?”

“Honey, you don’t think I expect you to clean this thing by yourself?” He gave you a playful pat in the back– even with superspeed you’ll wear yourself out…”

The real estate agent who kept rubbernecking at your direction, raised his eyebrow as he saw how stiff you were next to your fiance.

Pressing yourself against the aged stone of the terrace fence, the city seemed so far away as you looked down from so high up, wondering if you could fall quick enough, if he would catch you right on time or make it easy for himself and play the tragic broken hearted hero. The cold breeze kissed your temples as you processed the jarring passage of time.

Kaleem, his wife Alessia and your co-worker Chrissie dropped what they were doing when you broke the news that you’ve gotten engaged, they’ve already gotten it from the breaking news report and online but actually hearing it out of your mouth cemented it, it wasn’t a lookalike sharing your name marrying Homelander! But you! Their hardworking and worn out cook.

Who never once mentioned him before, who never described your baby daddy, who gave no hints… yet to them who thought were your friends–if not confidants, felt betrayed.

They were friends of yours but the fear of Homelander’s and Vought had been so great you never wanted to disclose who’s Helena’s father was to anybody, they had formed very strong opinions over the time they’ve known you but at the sight of half a dozen black suits entering their pizza shop– you probably would have never been able to tell them on your terms, anyways.

You had no choice now but to divulge.

After having been made to lose a day’s work and being informed they would have to agree to some sketchy stuff regarding selling your situation to the public, you owed them an explanation– at least the financial compensation for their cooperation was generous.

Right now you were a stranger.

You told a version of your story, adding to what they already knew, like everybody else their image of Homelander was firmly cemented after 20 years of exposure to the bastard, it was hard to view ‘The Nation’s Favorite Dad’ was the one who threw you on the streets, nobody spoke much while you melted into the booth, your sight so far away, as the light’s buzz drilled into your brain.

“Is the dick at least good?” Chrissie slurped loudly on her coke– I mean go get your bag bitch, just don’t let him make you sign a prenup and when you get divorce take half his shit.”

“Slightly above mid… his mouth tho…” You did smile there.

“Is it little?”

“I wish… shit hurts. Can’t sit straight afterwards... he's just so quick! Thank god his mouth isn't just good at speeches” You chuckle dryly.

Chrissie began spacing her fingers until you rolled your eyes in embarrassment, poor Kaleem sat in his corner pretending to be blind.

You both shared an ugly snorting laugh, cackling from the absurdity of the situation.

“You wouldn’t be the first woman to marry for benefits– trust me I seen a lot of ‘90 day fiance’ and my aunt Lucia’s been married to my uncle for 32 years– she met him a month before the wedding and only for the green card.”

“32 years?” That was dreadful.

Alessia was quite relaxed about the whole ordeal, if anything it was the most stimulating thing that had happened in recent years and seeing a six-year- old tutor her teenage son was exhilarating.

“She said he has a big dick and uncle works the night shift… works great for her– pretty sure 2 of their 7 kids are his”

“Is this the aunt Lucia that came and did our light fixtures? I feel sorry for your uncle.” Chrissie said.

“Yes– she's happy, and don’t be… Uncle Frank may have a whole other family in Mexico, but that’s a whole other business.” She said loudly– look you had it rought, and fuck him. I thought killing the dude at that rally was a bit much, but dumping you in the streets– way worse than murder! Look, we got three kids and if this dumbass died on me– I don’t know how I would cope and if some hot rich asshole asked me to marry him… I might ‘cuz college ain't cheap.” You could laugh, watching Kaleem agreeing he would do the same if she died– Homelander is cute and has money. You said it yourself– you don’t have to love him. He’ll meet somebody else and end it, but Helena it’s your main priority here not him, and I mean after everything you’ve been thru you deserve to cruise thru life.``

“I don’t think John is going to let me fuck around…” You groaned, resting your head on your forearm as you sunk deeper– I don’t have to be happy, right?”

“It’s overrated.” Chrissie said– Helena would probably finish college by 12, and that if she takes her time.”

“Thank you guys for encouraging me in my new ‘Sugar Baby’ journey– I always knew I had it in me to be an amazing hoe.”

It wasn’t what you wanted to hear… to them who just like you had to break their backs to keep the roof over their heads, it was an enviable golden opportunity and in this economy one couldn’t really afford to miss out on such opportunities…

“Just pretend you like him if he’s ever around, I guess.” you mention.

“It’s gonna be hard ‘cuz I like Noir more.” Chrissie says leaning across the table to pat your shoulders.

So here you were admiring the Upper East Side, in the nicest street, in a coveted building that he had every desire in the world to make you ‘Lady of the House’, it was beyond extravagant it even had an elevator… so there was some appeal.

Ashley followed him like a lap dog as he listed a billion much needed remodeling decisions to bring back the home into the office spaces by force, in case he decided to purchase the edifice.

“So you like it? This is the fifth house we’ve seen… you said you wanted a yard and space.”

“Needs more plants… is a great location…” you said softly, still looking down, pretending to not notice Ashley was writing that down too.

“But do you love it?” he pressed rubbing your shoulders– we can still get the penthouse… even if it's only four bedrooms but great open concept! Or the condo right in front of Central park– but that one is only 3 bedrooms which might tamper with our plans… although the one in 63 street, classy and it has a cinema.”

He kissed your forehead, after speaking quickly.

“Do you love it?” You asked, fixing his hair once he got too close to you– this will be your home too.”

“Is pre-war” He whines playfully– is so pretty… the brownstone… the history…” He gives you the most pathetic attempt of ‘puppy eyes’ you’ve ever seen, a smile creeps onto your face without permission which he takes graciously– I can see us here.”

“You’re not hanging a giant american flag anywhere in this house!”

“A small one?” He pouts.

“In your office… and it better be small, John.” You rested your head on his chest– The kitchen… is awful.”

He was touchy, your skin numb to his touch at this point, he wanted to kiss you and hold you until you cherished him, but he wouldn’t force it.

You just had to keep smiling and thwart most of his approaches, but you know if you gave him just enough affection he would be unable to notice the wicked game you were playing– forcing him to move at your dictated pace, to keep him on his toes yearning that you would turn and pamper him, never knowing if his affections were welcomed or not, but knowing you gave yours to him and he welcomed it.

You could see Ryan and Helena growing up happy, and safe.

You and those two children sitting by the fireplace, enjoying hot chocolate and opening Christmas presents.

You would in fact not choose this house just to spite the man, who had fallen in love with his grand vision– not that the chosen house was worse, just one floor shorter, just as massive as the other and still in a great location… so Homelander didn’t complain too much… just a little.

The boxes increased but there was still so much to fill up, even with his stuff it wasn’t enough to fill the gaps… he would not spare you from the American flags, tragically as it sounds.

At least it was framed and matched the decor of the gallery and dining room. As you unpacked and watched the movers bring the beds while the kids argued about who kept which floor– Helena demanded the fourth floor already making executive decision to turn the empty rooms into labs and offices for her future endeavors, while Ryan wanted to be normal child and stay in the same floor as his sibling, ultimately pushed to the fifth floor after multiple rounds of rock-paper-scissors, and a paternal mediator who said they had to settled it with another round of games which sadly Ryan lost.

After a laborious day, you two just sheepishly laughed as you stared at your bedroom, both leaning against each other as you laughed, staring at the wooden cross dividing the two beds and matching nightstands– all so very circa 50’s catholic chic.

You two just laughed about how absurd this was in execution, a part of you wished to just put the beds together instead of making your great-grandmother proud.

“Y’know we could’ve fit two kings in here…” He said while staring at the space.

“I thought you wanted me close-by.”

“Double’s were the perfect choice.” He replied quickly.

It took weeks before you reached a boiling point with your live-in situation, to see him walk around your home in that stupid suit, his mind longing for the familiarity of his abandoned penthouse was frustrating, he himself didn't expect to miss it either– He felt like a guest that refused to leave instead of your fake fiancee, this wasn’t him staying overnight at your previous domicile levels of awkward, that had been a challenge on its own, even if now you skipped the pillow walls and sleeping on the floor… God knows how many times he picked your unconscious self up from the ground and laid you to bed, while he sat next to you reading a book in the dark– this was an alien living in your house calling himself the owner.

Before you knew it your heart stung as you dragged the two kids to the nearest Target to bulk buy the man some loungewear, both from exasperation and as request from his son who mentioned he didn’t really own much clothes, and what little he did own he didn't feel like washing every 2 days just to chill around the house... and as his future wife you gave yourself automatic permission to buy him clothes… just anything that would get him out of that suit.

Ryan had never been to many stores before, much less a Target, it hurt a tad to see him fascinated by the colorful aisles and the abundance of people…knowing he had grown in a compound, the mother in you just wanted to squeeze him and apologies for it all, but you instead just squeezed the handle bars and let him pick snacks that caught his fancy.

It was hilarious that you would find yourself doing this again– back then buying for him had been difficult, he wore very little but he liked your input, he simply wore what you told him, but after so long you had no idea what he liked anymore– this wasn’t food… this wasn’t easy… so the plainest sets were your best bet.

There was something fresh about this, as you perused the aisles with the kids in tow, thinking of buying him some jeans and clean button ups, Ryan picking up colorful socks while Helena opted to pick him a shirt just to fit in.

You had fun, you looked forward to sprousing his wardrobe, watching this scene play out made you feel as if you were normal, until somebody took your photo at the checkout in your least flattering angle.

It took another week before he opened up to being undressed and exposed in cheap pajama pants and white t-shirts, it would take three weeks for him to do so without being told to– plus enough complaints about people trying to photograph them after seeing the Homelander lounge in the terrace, served as added motivation.

You told yourself it wasn’t too bad to cohabitate, as you saw him slowly get more and more comfortable in his new environment, as you watched him become softer with your kids, as you found yourself having pleasant breakfasts, found yourself being welcomed home and conversed over coffee about your day or his day– not even bringing up his concerns about you still choosing to work in Lucci when you could do so much better too often, giving up on teasing you with buying you a restaurant, or upcoming publicity stunts when you weren’t in the mood to listen to the drivel.

Staring down from the roof garden looking at the brownstone buildings around and the pale light, pleased by the subtle fragrance of flowers behind you, he seemed so normal as you watched him from across the coffee table.

He kept sipping on his latte looking miffed before turning around and asked about why Elmo had been staying over for the last 3 days, to which you reminded him he sent his dads to sort some business in Singapore.

“Does he have no other family?” He thought of Singapore– it was quite urgent… they decided to fuck us up.”

“You and them booked them for acting classes plus they have their first suit fittings tomorrow… easier for them to leave Elmo here and have us take care of that– they’re a team-up. They should be close.”

“I know! But why does he have to sleep here? He’s a boy.” He seemed concerned.

“‘Cuz we got the space…?”

“It doesn’t seem appropriate.”

“Oh you freak.”

He was still stiff around the edges but you could bear with it, as you saw him and Helena bond you knew your daughter was handling him well– your target was Ryan now.

You asked him to help you around the kitchen more, taking your time to teach him without pressure, scolding his father when he acted like it was undignified of him to help around the kitchen and forced him to eat whatever he'd made, making him feel proud when he took charge of dinner even if it was slightly too salty at times and his impenetrable skin resulted in chipped knives…

You helped him make those cute films and took him out to the cinema, buying him books on the subject, encouraging him to join art clubs, to try as many extracurriculars he was interested in and to ignore his father as he pushed Ryan to join sport related clubs, when all he wanted was to make dioramas with his new found friends, instead.

Homelander didn’t have any issues with Helena for her selections were sparse, just the chess club, and some science club she was quickly losing interest in… if anything he was being pushy about piano– and god knows how he managed to bring that piano to the fifth floor without breaking anything.

Is not as if she was already taking too much in-between physics, science and math classes… and working casually at Vought, but he didn’t seem to care. Helena assured you she could handle it, telling you to focus on your tasks without worry and you listened.

Ryan liked your support, it helped you get closer as you allowed his friends to enter the house for his little projects, he liked when you twisted his father’s ear to let him be just in case he began to disapprove, he began to trust you.

Helena wasted her afternoons in the office between daycare, superhero training and shadowing her father or Ashley, reading his meeting notes, writing them for him, or as he called it assisting him, learning about the company and the labs from her privileged position– the whispers of curious passerby wondered why Homerlander would keep his daughter so close, it had taken the building by surprise to learn that this little girl had been his child all along even if rumors had spread prior… but the once cute anomaly began to gain a insidious reputation in the underbelly of this company, something that made them more uneasy than just her strange demeanor from before.

“What’s that on your dress?” You noticed a brown stain on the hem of her dress.

“Iodine.” She said while taking her clothes off, Homelander said nothing as he picked after her.

Homelander gave you a stiff smile as he scrunched the clothes into a ball before your kid ran up towards the bathroom, mentioning she’s a tad clumsy with the equipment as he walked past you.

You didn’t need to know that the duet had some quality father-daughter time to the misfortune of some lab rat.

He stared at the chunky bloodstain sliding down the wall.

“I can explain.” She panted, staring at her work as her eyes spun around the room.

“It’s pretty obvious what happened, no?” He said stepping on top of the unidentified– "I'll have somebody come clean it up, darling.”

“You’re not mad?” She asked, genuinely nervous, fidgeting with her fingers as her head throbbed.

“Why did you kill him?” He stared at the smashed patty with curiosity.

“He resisted termination… forcing me to defend myself… he took my assistant.”

Homelander looked at the other corpse and its mangled remains, spilling around her boots.

“Why?” He spoke with a boor.

“Self-defense.”

“You took your time doing it… you could have cut his oxygen supply and killed him in a few minutes, instead you” He kicked a shattered bone– made it agonizing.”

“Tch… if he attacked me I would’ve lost control of the bubble…” She gasped lightly trying to kill the headache inside her– the math… the math makes sense. My formulas make sense. But it's them… these samples aren’t fit, they aren’t meant to be like us. They are worthless!”

She leans towards the wall, smacking her forehead against the wall full force, Homelander jumps on his heel but doesn’t reach her as she mutters incoherent curses under her breath, his hand stop just inches from her.

“This one wasn’t too bad… I thought I cracked it but then I noticed��” Helena was pensive looking at images he wasn’t privy to, as she spoke with a light airy voice as her lungs emptied for her to speak once more— I cull it.”

She squatted picking up a loose tooth from the ground, examining the perfectly structured canine, for the first time Homelander felt uneasy about her.

“Is not often that I feel…”

Homelander raised a curious eyebrow, taking a step closer towards her, Helena tilted her neck to look at him, her sight so detached it didn’t seem possible for a child to make such an expression.

“Excited. The simulations always succeed but the human variant poses an interesting angle I hadn’t previously considered… truly successful adult specimens… V24 almost recreated the perfected serum but with nasty side-effects… programming the serum is obtainable but adult humans continue to reject it or somehow create variants as if the host alters the code live” She flicks the tooth– Is like Frederick left me a puzzle.”

“So are these just pieces” He waved his fingers nonchalantly at the messy remains.

She scoffed standing up and patting her knees clean.

“You know why I play piano?”

He shook his head.

“Because in order to be good at it… you have to foster talent… but no amount of practice can’t beat those blessed with a gift… supposedly. So I have to solve his puzzle because I cannot believe that that coward was blessed more than me.”

“You think Vought has beef with you? So what will you do with all your failures? Murder them?”

“Is it murder to cull a deformed goldfish? No… that’s just mercy.” She stands up fixing her hair– It’s not beef. Is a challenge he left us with.”

His smile is so wide his skin creaks as it stretches.

He picked her up to plant a kiss on her chubby cheek.

“You’re such a messy child.” He kissed her again– you got your pretty dress dirty.”

“Sorry.” She moped– sorry about all of it… you must think I'm a hack.”

“Is okay princess… daddy will just buy you a new one… and a new dress.”

You didn’t question the stains on her dress, god knew what sort of chemicals and stuff she had to play with, and how much of it wasn’t built for the size of her hands.

The more you saw him return to that man you once loved, you felt down the spiral of considering giving him a second chance– Helena was happy, she was smiling, she was playful, your quiet daughter had blossomed under your mutual care, seeing him domesticated, seeing him interact with genuine joy with her had began to melt your heart. It didn’t help that he look so delectable in compression shirts, as he came back with the kids without a sweat on his brow, Ryan just as dry with nothing more than messy hair and then your daughter dropping to the ground half-dead from the walk… what you had stared at mostly had been his ass in those black tights.

“Honey it was only 20 miles.” He sounded a bit frustrated– gotta get her fit otherwise she will get outperformed.” He turned to you sounding a tad aggressive– she’s my daughter she should be able to handle it just like me and Ryan.”

“Mommy!” she cried.

“Most humans can’t even do twenty!”

You picked her up, not caring she was covered in sticky sweat but as you draped your child over your shoulder kissing her head as she whined, you caught an improper glimpse at him, no doubt he caught a couple looks from passersby on his way here– even by this city standards he was wearing too little.

“Go change…” You said with a light blush on your neck– don’t be a dick to her, she wasn’t born a copy of you.”

He pestered Helena for the rest of the evening, giving up once she barricaded herself in her bedroom.

“Spending all her time inside books is not gonna do her any good… she needs exercise.”

“I think you got the kids mixed up, dear.”

He moped in the living room pursing his lips, one sentence away from crossing his arms and whining like a child.

“Look I think it’s great that you want to train her but… she’s not like you. I would love for her to have inherited some of your physical skills– it's just not gonna happen.”

“I know. I don’t know why she’s so different from me… yet she has to get better…” His sight lingered on the roof– You think she’ll move her dresser out the way.”

“She’ll move it when she wants to– and don’t think about getting in there thru her window!” He almost complains but chooses to stay quiet scooting closer to you on the couch– What?”

“You seem mad…”

“You harassed our kid all day and made her upset… but I was mad before it...I made the mistake of googling myself after somebody at work made mention– have you seen the shit that people are saying ‘bout me online ‘cuz of you.”

Homelander shook his head lightly.

“I only google myself.”

“People are saying nasty shit. Hurtful shit… saw my mom getting interviewed… that was nice… she certainly made me feel like shit.”

“Want me to kill her?” Homelander spoke in such a bored tone, his head finding his way on your lap with the smoothness of a cat, unconsciously your hand took to his hair– Or something else?”

You stared at him and considered it, your mom sort of had it coming if she was going to paint herself a saint for her 15 minutes of fame.

“Don’t kill my mom, John. I just don’t want people saying I’m a bad mother because my kid went to a “shit public school” in the projects.” you said annoyed.

“I’ll see if Vought can write you a fluff piece.”

You believed him, choosing to put your anxieties away as he nuzzled into your stomach and let you watch TV without care as long as your hands kept pampering him making little commentary as you watched true crime videos.

Rolling in your bed you turned to see his back on the bed beside you, you signed readying to play dirty, your body awoken to something sickening.

“I know you ain’t asleep, John.”

His ears perked, he turned to see your silhouette in the dark.

“I can’t sleep.” You whispered– mmm…so” you signed lightly– can you get your dick up?”

His ears perked up, lifting himself by his elbows as he adjusted to face your darkened silhouette, your cheeks reddened, mildly embarrassed, your mind wandered back to the sight of his clothes, to the tussling of his hair and the glint in his eyes as of late… and of that last sudden night of intimacy.

“Oh. O-okay… might need some stimulation is not like I got a crank down there.” he faked being annoyed by your request.

“I stopped taking the pill…” His piercing eyes illuminated the room for a brief second just to catch a sly smile ‘bout to fade away off your face– so you wanna put the mommy in MILF or not?”

He tripped out of the bed to jump into yours, clawing his way back towards you, as the little voice in his head blared sirens.

Latching on your neck, ripping your clothes open as you tried not to chuckle at his messy desperation to fuck you, you closed your eyes and thought of nothing but the hundred different pleasurable sensations prickling you– it had been so long… your body sensitive, writhing over his hungry touch, wherever his hands and his lips got to taste you felt it twice as strong.

Whatever he was imagining in his head was happening none of it was relevant– this was simply a mutually beneficial exchange. Nothing but lust, it had to be lust because you didn’t see Homelander underneath you, as you rode him, as he let you fucked him just as hard as he wanted to fuck you– you saw the John that he had killed so many years ago... but somehow you didn't hate the sight.

He wanted to devour you, he was needy and pent-up and you took it all graciously, for one night you two used each other equally.

Finding himself delighted and more aroused at the squeals and mewls coming from your delicious lips just as much as you enjoyed the moans and guttural grunts that came from him as he cried against your chest, crying for your kisses and directions, liking the way he craved your scent once again.

You were better than his molasses drenched memories.

Homelander teeth gilded over your neck, the thought of him ripping and gnawing on your flesh lingered as he brought you to an orgasm.

To be so close to death as you touched heaven… you heaved, melting into the mattress letting him lumber atop of you, too delighted with the end result to complain… looking down to find him kissing your chest, whispering sweet grunts as your hand pampered his hair, you tried not to smile at that satiated goofy expression on his face, at the flickering light illuminating your skin as he purred around your touch.

He was so easy to win over… it scared you.

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