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babygirlbenji · 8 months

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I Still Love You - Mason Mount

A/N: This is a long-awaited part 2 to Last Train To London which you can read here! I worked really hard on it and I hope it lives up to expectations. Enjoy!

Warnings: mild angst, mild swearing, fluff

WC: 2.8k

When your train pulled into London King’s Cross, Ben was there, as promised, to pick you up with a McDonald’s meal. He took you under his wing, and let you stay at his place for the night.

‘Make yourself comfortable, sweets, and please know you can stay here as long as you need.’ You knew you had an offer from Sophia and Kai to crash at their place until you got back on your feet, but you didn’t want to intrude on their space.

‘I might take you up on that offer, Ben, thank you.’ He showed you around his place, making sure you knew where everything was in case you couldn’t sleep, let you have free rein of the fridge, freezer and cupboards, and even let Oscar the dog stay in your room, which Oscar was more than happy to oblige.

‘I think that’s everything. If you need me, text me, okay? I’m right here.’ You shuffled over to him and wrapped your arms around his torso to give him a hug you’d needed for weeks at that point. He rubbed your back affectionately. He was like a big brother to you, and you were more grateful than you could ever put into words for his support.

You had expected that night to have been sleepless and anxious, but you were simply too exhausted, both mentally and physically, that by the time you changed into your pyjamas, brushed your teeth and climbed into bed, your eyes were drooping already. Oscar jumped onto the bed and turned around a couple of times, making a nice little den in the blanket for him to snuggle up next to you in. You reached out to fiddle with his curly fur. The dog was like a weighted blanket, reassuring you that you were safe and you were okay. Before you knew it, you were fast asleep.

As the days, weeks and months rolled by, you could feel yourself slowly healing. Ben, Reece and the rest of the Chelsea boys, along with Kai and Jorgi over at Arsenal (they were still very much part of the inner circle), stood stoically beside you every step of the way. You had initially distanced yourself from Stamford Bridge for the first couple of months, the memories you had made there with Mason all too painful, but you gradually made your way back into the hallowed halls of the iconic stadium. You attended matches whenever you could, and started to wear CHILWELL 21 shirts to matches.

This had not gone unnoticed by fans. They had quickly cottoned on to the fact that you had gone back to London and Mason was still in Manchester. The gossip websites were in full swing, linking you and Ben together and writing spiteful articles about how you were a gold-digger, how you hopped from one football player to another, how it was your fault that your relationship had ended… You never minded, though. You continued on your healing journey and went about your daily business. You had secured a well-paying job back in London as an events planner in Soho, and had managed to find a nice little studio flat not too far from your office. Ben had insisted he buy you a new car, as you had sold your car up in Manchester to help bring some money in to pay for the flat deposit. Your life was most definitely on the up, and it would take a gigantic storm to blow you off course.

That gigantic storm came about a year after you moved back to London. You had your routine, you were solid in your job and you met up with Ben and the boys regularly.

One such outing in Knightsbridge, Ben pulled you aside to have a chat.

‘What’s up, Benji?’ The nickname you had for him was one only you could use. He hated being called Benji by everyone, but you were basically his little sister. In his eyes, you could get away with murder.

‘Well, um…’ His face told you he had information he would rather not give you, but felt it was his moral obligation to do so anyway.

‘Come on, Ben, out with it!’

‘Declan’s invited me and Mason to his birthday party, and he’s invited you, too.’ His words sent a chill down your spine. You hadn’t spoken to or about Mason in months, although that hadn’t stopped you from thinking about him every day. Thinking about what could have been, thinking about the ‘what ifs’, thinking about what you could have done to make him stay in love with you. You were brought back to earth by Ben putting a gentle hand on your shoulder. ‘You don’t have to decide just yet, but the offer is there if you did want to go. It would be great to have you there.’ He gave you a quick hug, before he went back to join the rest of the group to have drinks, leaving you with your thoughts and a large decision to make. While you would love to celebrate Declan with your friends, you hadn’t seen or heard from Mason in a year. The awkwardness was what worried you the most, along with the possibility of all the emotions coming back if you did end up running into him. Because deep down, in your heart, you knew that you still loved him. He was the absolute love of your life, and you couldn’t help but feel that he was your one that got away. You realised then just how much you missed him.

The night had swiftly come to an end for you, so you messaged Ben to let him know that you were on your way home and that you’d see him soon.

Benjamin: No worries J text me when you get home, and let me know if you’re coming to Dec’s birthday bash. We’d love to have you but I know you’ll have to decide. LOVE YA X

It was safe to say you didn’t get much sleep that night. You were awake for hours, tossing and turning, thinking about what Ben had said. It would be great to go and show up for Declan. He’d been there for you through everything, even with Lauren giving birth to little Jude. They had both made space for you in their busy lives with a new-born, and you couldn’t have been more grateful. Before you could stop yourself, you sent a message to Ben:

To: Benjamin: Been thinking about it all night. Sorry for the late message, I figured I needed to say it before I think about it more lol. I’ll be at Dec’s party x

You rolled over onto your side. There was no turning back now.

The day of the party arrived. Your room was a mess, dresses and shoes strewn across the floor. You wanted to find the perfect outfit for a party, which would show that you cared to make an effort but not too much effort, on the off chance you would see Mason.

Your eyes fell upon a navy blue bodycon dress that you had worn a couple of times before. It came down to your mid-thigh and had a neckline that did your bust some considerable favours. Finally feeling more positive about what you were wearing, having started to feel like you were going to have a breakdown about not being able to find anything appropriate to wear, you shoved on a pair of simple black heels and touched up your makeup. There was a knock at your door. Checking your phone, the time was 7:30; Ben was picking you up and he had arrived bang on time.

‘Coming!’ Your voice carried into the hall as you opened the door to find Ben, who was wearing a smart navy-blue button down with black slacks. Your mind briefly registered the fact that the colour of his shirt was basically a direct match to your dress.

‘Hey, you,’ he smiled, leaning in to give you a hug. Your senses were temporarily hazy by his cologne, which you painfully recalled as one that Mason had recommended to him as you had liked it on Mason. On Ben, though, it didn’t have the same knee-weakening effect as it had done for you when Mason wore it. ‘You good?’ He had obviously taken your quietness as nervousness.

‘Yeah, yeah, I’m good. You?’ He nodded. You could tell he was searching your face for any signs of discomfort, of not wanting to go, of being terrified of seeing Mason.

‘All good. Mostly just worried about you.’ You shrugged.

‘I’ll be fine. Got my wingman, I’ll be okay.’ You shared a laugh as you walked downstairs to where he had a car waiting. He held the door open for you, letting you slide in with him following you.

You and Ben spent the journey talking about your days and what you’d got up to, how your job was going, what antics he and the boys got up to at training and other small talk. He didn’t want to say anything, as he could tell you were nervous enough as it was, but he knew you well enough to know that you missed Mason almost as much as Mason missed you. You were quiet, reserved, not your usual bubbly self. If you were being completely honest with yourself, you hadn’t been your usual bubbly self since the breakup. Ben knew you loved Mason, but he never thought the breakup would impact you as much as it did.

Before long, the car pulled up at Declan’s house. The nerves in the pit of your stomach started doing backflips as you went up to the front door. Loud bass was audible through the walls, and you could tell there was a large crowd already, even though it was early by most people’s standards. You just wanted to stay for a couple of hours at the most before quietly leaving, all ideally without seeing Mason.

That plan quickly went out the window when Declan opened the door, arm in arm with Mason.

‘Hey guys! Oh…’ Declan’s wide grin disappeared the minute he saw it was you and Ben, clearly thinking you were someone else. The awkwardness was palpable. ‘Hey Y/N, Ben, glad you guys could make it!’ Dec brought you in for a hug, whispering an ‘I’m so sorry’ in your ear as he did so.

‘Don’t worry,’ you replied in an equally quiet voice, hoping he could hear you over the music. The squeeze he gave you told you he had heard you.

You avoided Mason’s eyes completely as Ben and Declan caught up, Ben asking about life at Arsenal and how Declan was finding his new club.

‘I’m gonna get a drink, did you want anything?’ You asked Ben at a break in the conversation. Mason’s eyes raked over you as you got close to Ben, one of your hands absent-mindedly on his arm. Jealousy raged in his stomach.

‘Just a beer, please, gorgeous,’ Ben replied. His usual pet-name for you was innocuous for the both of you, but took on a whole new meaning in Mason’s head. Why was he calling you gorgeous? Why were you touching him? Were the tabloids correct? Had you gone for his former teammate in the wake of the breakup? Mason’s head was reeling.

You handed Ben his drink and wandered off to mingle with some of the Arsenal WAGS, introducing yourself to Martin Ødegaard’s new girlfriend and giving Milly, Ben White’s new wife, a big hug to congratulate her, as you hadn’t been able to attend the wedding.

Neither Declan or Ben missed the fact that Mason’s eyes rarely left your form for more than a few seconds as he watched you chat and catch up with some old friends.

‘How are you, Mase, United treating you well?’ Ben asked conversationally.

‘Yeah, ‘s alright.’ Eyebrows were raised at Mason’s curt tone. Ben and Declan exchanged confused glances, before leaving Mason to his thoughts and continuing into the party to see some of the other guys who had made an appearance. Mason was left with his thoughts as he stood and pondered his next move.

As he was doing so, he saw you excuse yourself from the small throng of people to head to the kitchen to scope out the buffet. He seized his opportunity and followed you into the kitchen.

What he couldn’t have known was that instead of grabbing something to eat, you were having to physically stop yourself from having a full-blown panic attack. Gripping the counter with your hands and keeping your head bowed, you focused on keeping your breathing deep.

You had no idea how many minutes had passed, but an all-to-familiar voice brought you back to earth with an almighty bump.

‘Y/N? You okay?’ You turned, and before you knew it, you were face-to-face with the person you never thought you’d see again. ‘Y/N?’ he asked again.

‘Y-yeah, I’m okay.’ You had suffered with anxiety and panic attacks throughout your relationship, and Mason had always known how to help you.

‘You sure?’ A deep, shaky breath rattled through your body. You both knew the after-effects of the panic attack were the worst part of it all. You would feel exhausted, ashamed, guilty… But he had always been there to help you through it all. He would offer you cuddles, a listening ear, a movie, whatever you needed.

Things were so different now, though. There was a rift the size of the Atlantic Ocean between you, and you didn’t know how to get across it.

‘Let’s get you somewhere quiet, come on.’ He hesitated, before holding out his hand for you to hold. ‘You don’t have to, if you don’t want to.’ But you realised you wanted to. You needed him, you needed his touch, his hold. You reached out and grabbed his hand, immediately feeling like you had been connected with the earth again.

He led you upstairs to one of the far guest rooms, opened the door and followed you in. You took a seat on the bed, fiddling with your hands in your lap. He sat on the floor in front of you, eyeing you carefully.

‘You sure you’re okay?’ You sighed. A big, deep sigh. Now that you had him in front of you, the questions you’d held in for a year were threatening to spill over.

‘Can I ask you something?’ The look on his face suggested that he knew what you were going to ask, but he nodded, all the same. ‘Why did you stop putting effort into our relationship? You always said that I was the love of your life, that I was it for you… what happened? What happened to us?’ He sighed, similar to how you had sighed earlier.

‘Honestly, Y/N, I don’t have a good reason. I wish I did, believe me, but I don’t. The media scrutiny, the fans giving me shit on social media, the move, everything to do with it, it all just got to me. I pushed you away without even realising and for that, I will never be able to apologise enough.’ You pondered his answer, and then debated asking a question you had longed to know the answer to since the day you left but were too scared to know the answer to.

Before you could ask it, though, Mason spoke up. ‘Are you seeing Ben?’ The gravity of his question made you pause.

‘What?’

‘Are you and Ben, you know, a thing?’ You shook your head.

‘No. He’s like a brother to me, Mase, you know that. All the boys are. When I met you, you gave me a whole new family I could only have dreamed of.’ Your eyes met again. His eyes hadn’t changed a bit. They were still the deep chocolate brown you’d found home in for all those years.

You climbed down from the bed and sat with your back to the bed. Your mouth opened and closed a few times, trying to figure out how to ask the question you were starting to crave the answer to. You felt like the answer to it was yes, but you needed to be sure. Finally, you decided to just go for it.

‘Do you… do you still love me?’ The look on his face said it all. He was looking at you like he had never seen you before, as if you were the only woman in the entire world. And to him, you were. You were everything to him and he would be forever kicking himself for ever making you feel like you weren't. He scooted forward to crouch in front of you before gently holding your face with both hands.

‘Y/N Y/LN, of course I still love you. And if you’ll have me, I’ll spend the rest of my days loving and cherishing you the way you deserve. The way I should have shown you from day one.’ Your eyes brimmed with tears as you looked at the man who had your heart.

‘Of course, I’ll have you.’ You sat up and collapsed into his arms, finally feeling that you were home once again.

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ramblingoak · 1 year

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Satan’s Toy Box

Hello anon! Thank you for the prompt and I hope you enjoy what I came up with!

~ As the owner of the local sex toy shop you find yourself developing a crush on a Cardinal from the local Satanic church ~

The prompt was: attempting to find out if they are single/available

Cardinal Copia x GN Reader (nsfw, 18+, mdni)

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Today was going to be the day.

You had been working up the courage for months at this point, ever since the man had first walked into your store. He was definitely handsome, if a little old fashioned. Not many people sported sideburns and mustaches anymore, but he pulled them both off. It made him seem distinguished, especially with the salt and pepper strands creeping in at his temples.

He was older than who you usually went for. Of course maybe that was a good idea given your recent track record. It seemed like most people your age weren’t ready to settle down yet. You weren’t exactly looking to settle down yourself, the thought of a white picket fence and 2.5 kids was vaguely terrifying if you were being honest. Unfortunately the main obstacle in your dating life was where you worked: Satan’s Toy Box.

It was rather irritating how fast some people would leave after learning you owned a sex supply shop. You really didn’t know what the big deal was. Some people were still way too hung up on topics surrounding sex. It seemed like you either got people that were immediately turned off at the news or they thought you personally experimented with every item you sold.

Although honestly that wasn’t too far from the truth.

I mean, you had your limits, but you were taught that it was important for a business owner to know their product. First hand experience and all that. So if your products happened to be sex toys, so be it. You’d never been one to shy away from some adventure in the bedroom. Or out of it even.

Setting up shop in a town that also had a Satanic Church had seemed like a brilliant idea. Kind of like Girl Scouts selling cookies right outside pot dispensaries. It was a match made in Heaven. Well, Hell. Whatever. Anyway, the various church members were regulars in your shop. Siblings of Sin as they were called, people in masks called Ghouls, a few men in skull paint that called themselves ‘Papa’ and the man you had been trying to build up the courage to ask out: Cardinal Copia.

So yes, when Copia had waltzed into your store for the first time in a tight red suit you had been immediately interested. He cut an interesting figure, what with the facial hair and the paint around his eyes and on his upper lip. You had been behind the front counter and called out a welcome, but the poor man had been startled at your sudden voice and walked right into a display of neon butt plugs.

His cheeks had turned the same color of his suit and he tripped over an apology while trying to pick up the display. You had rushed over to help, assuring him it was no problem while desperately trying not to stare at his face. His Italian accent was giving you thoughts and it was possible when your hands both reached for the same neon pink butt plug you already had hearts in your eyes.

It was like you were starring in a Hallmark movie.

After everything had been cleaned up he had introduced himself and mentioned he was there to pick up an order for the church. The transaction had gone quickly, only a little small talk before he had left with his large order of lube. It was really adorable how often he felt the need to clarify it was for the church and not just him. Like it mattered to you, you liked a man that was prepared.

By now though months had passed and you were fairly embarrassed with yourself that you hadn’t asked him out yet. You just kept thinking he probably had some cute young sibling at the abbey. Probably multiple siblings. Why would he want to settle with one person when he was surrounded by beautiful people literally there to sin 24/7? Plus you didn’t want to make things awkward, he was a regular customer after all.

It’s just…what if he was interested as well? He definitely had a flirty vibe whenever you spoke, but it’s possible he was just being nice. There had been a few times he’d come in with some of the Ghouls and both times it looked like they had been arguing, only speaking in fierce whispers. You wouldn’t have necessarily thought it was about you, but the last time they had been in the shop you overheard one of them tell Copia to ‘grow a pair’.

That had been what really drove you to decide that today was it, you were going to ask Cardinal Copia out on a date. He was going to (maybe) say yes, you both would later have (probably) amazing sex and then in a year or so you’d (possibly) have that white picket fence everyone seemed to be clamoring for. Or whatever the Satanic equivalent was, you weren’t going to be picky.

You had been doing laps around the shop all morning. Dusting shelves and straightening products. Making sure the movies were organized by genre and then alphabetized within each section. The store hadn’t even been this clean when you first opened it. As you made another meandering lap by the front door you stopped when you heard raised voices.

Creeping closer you peeked through the window expecting to see maybe a group of religious nuts or protestors, something you’d unfortunately dealt with before. Instead what you saw was the Cardinal and a few of the Ghouls seemingly arguing with each other. Not really wanting them to continue making a scene on the sidewalk, you swung the door open to ask if everything was ok, but Copia’s raised voice stopped you in your tracks.

“For the last time I’m not a virgin!”

Copia’s back was to you as he faced the other two, but you could see him tense up when the sound of the bell on your door registered. One of the Ghoul’s immediately hung their head, the other covered their mouth with their hands to try and hide their laughter. Honestly you wanted to laugh too, you could only imagine the look on poor Copia’s face. He slowly turned around and his shoulders sagged when he saw you.

“Good to know, Cardinal.” You felt a little bad teasing him, but you also could have said something much, much worse. He was lucky you liked him so much. “Come on in! I’ve got your order ready for you.”

You heard him mutter something to the Ghouls but they all trailed behind you inside the store. The Ghouls took off to different corners, but Copia stayed behind you. When he cleared his throat you turned nearly causing him to run into you.

“Cara mia, I’m not. Uh, you know.”

“You’re not what?”

“A virgin.”

You gave him a soft smile, really it didn’t matter to you either way. Experienced lovers were great but being able to teach someone was also great. Really, really great.

“Oh well, it’s ok if you are. I won’t judge.”

Copia fidgeted for a moment and reached a hand out to rest it on the nearby butt plug display. The damn thing wasn’t very sturdy to do that, which he should know, so a few of the plugs fell off and clattered onto the floor. You dug your teeth into your lip to stop from laughing, watching as he hurried to pick them up and get them back where they belonged.

“That’s very kind of you, but again, I’m not.”

He got everything back in place and then brushed his hands on the front of his suit, awkwardly resting them on his hips when he was done. You couldn’t help but let your eyes wander over him for a moment because really, those suits were a gift. When Copia cleared his throat you quickly looked back up at his face.

“Ok. Um, cool.”

God, why were you still talking about this? Cool? He would never agree to go on a date with you now. You sighed and gave him a brief smile before turning to get behind the counter and grab the church’s delivery. ‘Yeah it’s super cool you aren’t a virgin, here’s the ten bottles of lube you ordered, have a great time’. You were such an idiot. Grunting you picked up the box and then set it on the counter.

“Uh, actually, I had something I’ve been meaning to ask you.” You glanced up from the box, watching as he nervously rubbed his hands together. What could he possibly be nervous about? He opened his mouth to continue but one of the Ghoul’s jogged up and slammed something down next to the box.

“Hey Boss, found the tentacle dildo you wanted.”

Copia immediately let loose a string of Italian and shoved the Ghoul away.

“For fucks sake Dewdrop would you piss off?! Aether!” The other Ghoul hurried up to the front, taking one look at the dildo then at the other Ghoul and sighed.

Aether grabbed the box and shoved it into Dewdrop’s hands. He then grabbed the Ghoul by his shoulders and started pulling him out of the store. Dewdrop was dragging and kicking his feet as he went, one kick sending the butt plug display flying and really, maybe you should just put that thing out of its misery. You looked over to Copia, his cheeks as red as his suit as he looked at all the plugs scattered across the floor. Again.

“Kids these days, huh?”

Copia snorted and when you made your way around to pick everything up he leaned down and started helping you.

“I’m sorry, cara mia. The Ghouls are a little uh, rambunctious.”

“No worries, we’re old hands at fixing this thing by now.”

You turned to smile at him, your smile growing when you saw that his cheeks were still red. He picked up the last plug on the floor, but stared down at it for a moment before speaking.

“I feel like I’m always bringing chaos with me when I visit.” Copia nibbled his lip briefly before handing the plug over. “Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

Oh if he only knew. You stared at him for a moment, your mind going a mile a minute as you tried to get the courage to ask him out.

“Coffee?”

“Oh, si! I can go get you a coffee!”

Shit. You took a deep breath and reached a hand out to touch his arm.

“No, I meant, do you want to get a coffee…with me?” Copia stood there for a moment, his mouth open and you instantly had a sinking feeling in your gut. Fuck. Ok, fuck. That wasn’t what he meant, of course he would just want to go get you a coffee. “I’m sorry, Cardinal! That was unprofessional of me. Just forget I said anything, let me get your receipt.”

As you started to rush by he shot out a hand and grasped your elbow. You looked up at him, taking in his handsome features for what you hoped wasn’t the last time.

“What if I don’t want to? Forget it, I mean.”

It took every ounce of self control you had not to start doing a little dance.

“So you do want to get coffee? Together?”

“Si, si. But I was actually hoping we could have dinner instead, would that be alright?”

Holy fuck.

“Yes! I mean yes, dinner would be great.”

“Bene! Molto bene.” Copia was positively beaming at you and you probably looked exactly the same. “Would tomorrow night work, cara?”

“Yes, that would be great. I close at 6 so anytime after that.”

“Okie dokie, I will be here at 6. Then dinner.”

You were afraid to open your mouth again and let out the ridiculous screeching sound you wanted to make so you just smiled wider and hurried off toward the counter. When you turned with the receipt in your hand you bumped right into his chest, not realizing he had followed you.

“Oh, sorry Cardinal!”

Ugh, could you embarrass yourself any more today? Copia didn’t seem bothered though, he took the receipt from you with one hand and with the other he pulled your hand to his mouth. He placed a quick kiss on the back, smiling softly at you after.

“It’s Copia to you, cara mia.” He dropped another kiss onto your hand and then slowly started walking backwards toward the door. Copia looked a little smug watching as your hand remained frozen in the air. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

You were grinning like an idiot now, barely holding in the dreamy sigh that was desperately wanting to come out. Copia gave you an equally goofy smile back and then spun on his heel to leave. Unfortunately he ran right into the display again and once more your floor was covered in neon colored butt plugs.

Ok, maybe not exactly like a Hallmark movie, but close enough for you.

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my masterlist

my ao3

#my fics #my writing #cardinal copia x reader #copia x reader #cardinal copia fanfiction #copia fanfiction #the band ghost fanfiction

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rohirric-hunter · 25 days

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A Blade for a Life

Look at my 6.3k word oneshot, boy

So I had half of this written and was "basically done" so I sat down to "finish it real quick" and that got out of hand fast. But the half that was already written was mostly written years ago. It all started out as an exercise to figure out how Hathellang interacted with law enforcement in Bree and let me tell you. It absolutely did not do that.

Anyway. Hathellang's POV

~*~*~*~

“You there! Thief!”

You do not recall stealing anything yet today, but the owner of the voice, a stocky, angry-looking Dwarf, is definitely speaking to you. Nonetheless, you indicate yourself and say, “Are you talking to me, sir?”

“Yes!” he growls. “You haven’t seen a sword about, have you? One of mine was stolen this morning.”

You feel a sinking sensation in your stomach. You have not stolen a sword, but it is no mystery why he might suspect you of it. You offer him a disarming smile, at the same time stepping back to put some distance between you. “I’m sorry, but I haven’t,” you say.

“Then you didn’t steal it?” he asks, and you flinch. Chief Watcher Grimbriar is just on the other side of the little roadside cabin that serves as a guard-post along the Greenway north out of Bree-town, and while a glance tells you that he has not yet tuned into this conversation – he is seated on the top step, bending over a sheaf of papers and occasionally marking a map that sits beside him with a piece of charcoal – if the Dwarf maintains this line of questioning he certainly will.

“You can’t make an accusation like that one without evidence,” you say, a little sharply.

“Then that wasn’t you loitering about my shop all this morning?” he asks.

“Your shop?” you repeat. “I don’t know where your shop is. And why would I want to steal a sword? Helena won’t stop making them, even though nobody buys them.” This is not strictly true: Helena is new to swordmaking and most of her attempts so far have not been of high enough quality to be sold. But you are mostly talking to buy time, as you run over your morning in your mind. It had been long and slow; you had arrived in town as the sun rose and gone about gathering work – tailoring work, that is – orders and clothing to be refitted and resized and mending for those too busy to manage it themselves, or wealthy enough to hire the service. This had been done in an hour, but somewhat later in the morning you had had an obligation for the other sort of work you do, and so to pass the time you had purchased a stuffed cabbage from Darin Whitflor and brought it to the Stone Quarter to eat, perched on the jutting foundation of a house just down the street from where several Dwarves share a prolific little smithy. Now you recognize this individual as Lofar Ironband, a craftsman well-known for his quality steel, and the owner of the Dwarf-smithy. You had indeed spent several hours loitering near his shop once you had finished your breakfast, making a start on some of the simpler work in your bag and then catnapping, for the house was built inexpertly, and the foundation offers quite a wide ledge, and the sun had warmed it delightfully.

“It was me,” you say. There is no use in denying it. “But if I was looking for an opening to steal something, I shouldn’t have done it so brazenly. Anyway –” you raise your arms to the side and turn in a quick circle, showing that you are carrying nothing but your work bag “-- do I look like I’ve got a sword on me?”

“No,” Lofar admits, “but you could have done away with it already. Resold it to one of your Man-smiths, maybe? They’re always jealous of Dwarf-craft. Well, I want it back.”

“I don’t have it,” you say bluntly.

Lofar begins to turn, and as you follow his line of movement you realize with a start that Chief Watcher Grimbriar has taken an interest, though he is not looking your way yet. His hand has stilled, and he holds himself with the air of someone who is listening to a conversation that he is not part of.

“Wait!” you say quickly. “I didn’t steal it and I don’t have it, but what do you want? To not get the guards involved, I mean.”

Lofar eyes you suspiciously. “If you didn’t take it, then what’s the harm? If you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to fear.”

“Except two nights in the city jail while they investigate!” you exclaim. “I can’t spend time in jail. I’ve got work to do. There’s another babe come in that’s not been weaned, that’s two now! and two wet nurses that have got to be paid for, not to mention food and clothes for twenty-one, with the winter coming on and all.” You nervously bite at your lower lip. “I’ll ask around, see if I can find out who took your sword.”

Lofar frowns, but he turns to face you, crossing his arms in a manner that brooks no nonsense. “I suppose I know your name and where you live,” he says. “It’s not as if you’re going to skip town in the night.” You could, of course, but you don’t feel that information is likely to be helpful in this circumstance. “I would rather have the sword back than anything. Bring it back and I won’t ask where you got it or who stole it.”

As you shoulder your work bag and turn back toward Bree, you reflect that you will certainly be asking who stole it. There are many people about who, unlike you, have ample reason to steal a sword, and enough of these are not people you particularly trust with one, especially a stolen one. If nothing else, you have a bone to pick with the thief on your own account.

You have no better lead to follow than Lofar’s own suspicion that it was one of the smiths of Bree. You doubt very much that any of them took the sword; you have always known them to be honest, though their rivalry with the local Dwarf-smiths is widely known. Perhaps one of the less experienced young pickpockets who hang about the Mud Gate might have considered it a worthwhile risk, but you very much doubt it. Everyone knows that the best money is in jewelry and coins and other small objects that can be quickly pilfered and easily hidden. And if it was a commissioned burglary, a client paying a thief to take the sword, such arrangements go through Albra Lowbanks, and she will tell you nothing, as sure as the sun rises and sets. Nor will you ask, for she keeps your secrets as well.

The smiths, of course, are patently offended at your questions, and with no better ideas you return to the Stone Quarter to look over the smithy there, but you see nothing out of place. The Dwarves there have seen nothing, save one, who eyes you thoughtfully and asks if you weren’t there earlier in the day. His voice carries no suspicion, and it seems that you will find nothing here, before he mentions almost offhandedly that he has seen more Men here today than in the past week.

“Your lot don’t come down here too often,” he says, wiping his hands on his apron, “meaning no disrespect. But it was you and that other fellow today, and the last one before that was a Ranger. We don’t –”

You cut him off, rather rudely, but this is the first lead you’ve dared entertain. “Who was it?” you ask.

“The one they call Strider, I think,” the Dwarf says. “What do you want to be knowing that for?”

“I apologize,” you say. “Not the Ranger, the other man who was here today.”

“Oh, him,” the Dwarf says. “I don’t rightly know. Young-looking fellow; taller than you, but then most Men are. Red hair. I used to see him at the Man-forge by West-gate quite a lot, but he’s been scarce in the past month.” You crease your brow in thought, and he crosses his arms over his chest defensively. “Well? Just because Dwarf work is better doesn’t mean your lot’s never come up with a trick or two. I’m allowed to learn wherever I please, if you please!”

“I agree!” you say, raising your hands defensively. “And thank you! That’s what I needed to know.”

You quickly take your leave of the Dwarf and turn northward, walking at a brisk pace. You do not recognize the description, but a smithy-worker who has been absent for a month can only be one of the new workers at Thornley’s Work Site. Nearly a month ago Thornley had brought on a great many new workers, in response to the increased brigand activity in recent months. None of them are fighters, as far as you know, but you can certainly imagine why they might want a sword, out in the Bree-fields without even a fence around the site. There is a reason Helena has recently taken an interest in making them.

You have little interest in encountering Lofar again on your way to the work site, so you leave town through the North-gate and skirt along the ridge east of the Greenway. This allows you to avoid Lofar and Grimbriar both, and you are congratulating yourself on your cleverness when you stumble across the body.

The wind is in the south, or you should have smelled the blood and avoided it. As it is, however, you step out from among some dense bushes onto a trail that leads down into a shaded hollow, and there you discover what remains of someone who seems to have fallen afoul of the boars that live in the hollow. There is not much left to identify the man, but as you approach you notice the hilt of a sword lying on the bloody ground where he must have dropped it. The blade is snapped off and nowhere to be found, but the hilt is brand-new and shows no signs of wear, and the detailing is distinctly Dwarven.

You consider, briefly, taking the hilt back to Lofar and washing your hands of the whole business, but the poor sap deserves a burial, if nothing else, and the body cannot be left here. Thornley’s Work Site is close, anyway, so you continue on, twirling the hilt idly in your hands as you walk.

When you arrive at the work site, you ask the first Man you see for the foreman. He raises his arm and opens his mouth to answer, and then he catches sight of the hilt held loosely in your right hand and goes deathly pale. He appears terrified, as if the presence of the hilt spells terrible news, and you can’t but conclude that there are more layers to this mystery than you thought. “What do you know about this?” you ask quickly.

“Nothing!” he says, even more quickly, if that is possible. “Please go away! I – I have work to do. Foreman Rosethorn is over there.”

This Man matches the description the Dwarf at the smithy gave you. “Now look here,” you say, sternly but not unkindly. “I’m not going to rat you out. But I very nearly got pinned for this, and I don’t imagine Master Ironband is going to be too pleased at its condition when I return it.”

The man wavers for a moment, and then says, “Fine, I stole it, but I had a good reason! I wasn’t trying to pin anyone. It was for my family! Nate said he would hurt them if I didn’t make a sword for his captain, Blake. But I didn’t have the iron to forge one, so I took the Dwarf’s! Please, you must understand, it was to save my family! Please don’t tell the constable!”

“Who are Nate and Blake?” you ask. “For that matter, who are you?”

“Who are – why, didn’t you take the hilt from Nate?” he asks.

“If I did, then he’s dead,” you say. “Ran afoul of the boars in the hollow across the Greenway.”

“And good riddance to him,” the man says. “I’m Kenton Thistleway. Nate is, or was, a brigand. He said he was going to test the sword against the workers on the silo across the way. But this is terrible! What if Blake comes looking for his sword? I won’t have one to give him, and they’ll hurt my family!”

That seems likely to you. The Hackberry House has thus far escaped the particular notice of the brigands as they robbed and drove off most everyone around because orphans and abandoned children make for good recruits. Lady Hackberry’s do not, because she raises her children right and sees to it that they are loved and want for nothing she can provide, but you have never felt particularly inclined to share this information with any of the people slipping you shadowy notes promising adventure and freedom and wealth, and even less so in recent years, when the letters changed to offer power and fulfillment. You offer a bounty in sweet honey-cakes to any of the younger children who bring you such a letter, for once you have destroyed it they have no in with the brigands. More than one of them are taking advantage of this arrangement, but it is a small price to pay to keep them out of such mischief. All children, in your opinion, ought to know a few basic swindles anyhow.

You are unsure how much longer this arrangement will keep the household safe, however. It was mainly the Blackwold who recruited locally, and the past several days have brought dark rumors with them. They are outlandish, and you believe less than half of them, but all agree that the Blackwolds are no longer a power to be reckoned with in Bree-land. You are sorry, for you had several friends who had run off to sleep in the woods and live off the land and be their own masters, back when that was all the Blackwolds did. More urgently, the power among the various local gangs is out of balance, and you do not know who will fill the vacuum or what they will do. You fear it will be one of the new lots, composed mainly of strangers from the south, and before long they will come to your home and threaten your family, just as they are doing to Kenton Thistleway.

The Man in question looks deeply uncomfortable, and a little constipated. “Do you think,” he asks slowly, “that Lofar would make another sword? If you asked him and explained the situation, that it’s to save my family?”

“I’ll ask him,” you say. “And if he says no, I might be able to get you a near-endless supply of swords that snap off just above the hilt.”

~*~*~*~

“Another blade?” Lofar exclaims, when you have explained the situation to him. “Another blade? I’m already behind on other work, and now I’ll have to forge a new sword to fill the order this one was for. ‘Time is precious, don’t give it away for nothing,’ my father used to say…” He pauses, brow furrowed in thought. “Actually lost my father to brigands a few years back. Wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

“Bah!” he says, sounding annoyed, though it is not directed at you. “Give me that hilt. I must be getting soft. I’ll help that Kenton Thistleway, but with two conditions. First one is that if that brigand don’t come around looking for the sword, I get it back. Second, Thistleway gives me a hand and does some of the simpler work I’ve got piling up.” He fiddles with the straps on a workbag much like yours and produces a bellows. “These need new leather. Take them back to Thistleway and tell him I’ll send two or three more projects later today. If he fixes them all and I’m happy with his work, I’ll call it even on the cost of the two swords.”

You take the bellows under your arm – they are too big to fit into your work bag – and once again turn north up the Greenway. Once you have delivered Lofar’s message and bellows, you think, you will turn for home; you have much still to do this day, and you are hungry. The sun is well past its zenith now. You wonder if there are any honey cakes at the house, and if Gareth will have your hide if you take them.

Kenton Thistleway is nervously pacing when you return. You explain Lofar’s offer to him and he takes the bellows almost eagerly. He examines them carefully, and then nods in satisfaction. “I can repair this in an afternoon,” he says, “but I’ll need some leather to replace the worn patches.”

This whole affair is really no longer your business, but you hate to leave a task unfinished, so you quickly volunteer, “I can get you some.” Kenton ought at least to have a sword to bargain with, you think, before you can quite call this done.

He looks at you like you hung the stars, and you excuse yourself quickly and rather awkwardly. The Hackberry House is a short walk away, half an hour, perhaps, or less if you are willing to take a shortcut across Eric Dogwood’s fields. The outer fields lie fallow, as Eric and his wife Eltrys are too old to work so far from their home, and their son Horace had run off before the spring planting. Some of the children at the Hackberry House sometimes set aside time over the summer to assist them, especially Helena, and Léonys when she was not busy, but none of you had the time or resources to plant and maintain entire fields. If the harvest is not good, the Dogwoods may lose their farm – that is, if brigands and worse do not drive them off of it first.

The Hackberry House is larger than most other houses in the Bree-fields, except perhaps the Thornleys’. It boasts two stories and three outbuildings on a sizeable parcel of land: Lady Hackberry had inherited a comfortable fortune in land, livestock, and money from her father, though the latter is spread quite thin in recent years, with more children than she is really able to house about, and the brigands driving up the prices of whatever goods they don’t manage to steal.

The land is surrounded by a hedge, perhaps waist-high to you, which serves to keep some six cows, three sheep, and a dozen or so chickens contained. The only gate opens to the east, but you approach from the north and jump the hedge quite easily. Lady Hackberry has told you not to do this many times, but from here it is a clear shot to the tanning shed, where Léonys lays out and cures leather from her hunting trips. The place reeks, but you are more than used to it, and you slip in and begin browsing the drying racks, where finished leathers hang, ready to be sorted. After a few moments you find something suitable for bellows and reach up to undo the clamps that keep it on the rack.

“Hathellang?”

You turn with a start to see the form of Lady Hackberry framed in the doorway. “Oh! Lady Hackberry,” you say. “You startled me.”

“I didn’t mean to,” she says. “Will you be home for dinner?"

"I hope so," you say. "I just have a quick errand to run and then I'll be heading home for the day." You pull the leather down and walk towards the door, taking her hands in yours and squeezing them affectionately.

She smiles fondly. "Don't forget, you promised Anna you would help her at the forge this afternoon."

"I won't," you say. "I couldn't if I tried. She's spoken of little else since last night."

Lady Hackberry leans forward and presses an affectionate kiss to your forehead, and the two of you step out into the late morning sunlight.

~*~*~*~

You don't think you could have been gone for more than half an hour, but when you return to Thornley’s Work Site, Kenton Thistleway has abandoned all pretense of getting work done. Indeed, everyone has. He is sitting on the ground beside his forge, head in his hands, with some unfinished nails scattered on the ground about. The other workers are clustered in little groups, speaking quietly together or casting pitying looks toward Kenton. The foreman looks very displeased with the whole situation, but has made no move to encourage anyone to return to work.

Kenton looks up as you approach, and speaks before you can ask what happened. “Oh, it’s terrible! Blake, the brigand-captain who wanted the sword, came and told me he knew Nate was dead and that he knew I had something to do with it! I tried to tell him I didn’t, that I would have another sword for him soon, but he wouldn’t listen.” The man pauses and takes several steadying breaths. “He said he’s taken my daughter, Maribell! If I don’t give him another sword, and soon, he’ll kill her!”

This affair is really no longer your business, a voice in your mind says, but it’s a quiet one, and you brush it aside. “Get ahold of yourself,” you say. “We’ll get the man a sword, then. Where is he?”

“The brigand-camp in the Bree-fields, up to the west,” Kenton says. “Blake’s in charge there.”

You swing the rolled-up leather down from your shoulder where you were carrying it and drop it unceremoniously on the ground at Kenton’s feet. “Well, there’s that,” you say. “I’ll go get the sword from Mr. Ironband and take it to Blake.”

“Please hurry,” he says. You don’t respond, instead turning away and making for the Greenway at a light jog.

You are sweaty and out of breath by the time you reach the cabin guard-post, where Lofar Ironband still stands, talking to Chief Watcher Grimbriar. It seems to be a discussion of some importance, as both of them are consulting pieces of parchment and making notes on them in charcoal, but it doesn’t interest you. “Have you -- have you finished -- Thistleway’s sword yet?” you ask, gasping for breath and supporting yourself on your knees.

Lofar looks at you as if you had asked him if he had managed to lay an egg. “Do you know how long it takes to make a sword?” he asks.

“No,” you say. “Listen, Blake came back and told Thistleway that he has his daughter Maribell up at the brigand camp west of the Everclear Lakes, and he’ll kill her if he doesn’t have a sword and soon.”

The Dwarf’s face softens. “This is bad,” he says. “No, I don’t have a sword. I have a few in progress and I sent word to my assistants to finish one as soon as may be, but I don’t have it yet. I know these types of fellows. they won’t take ‘no’ for an answer. They’ll kill that girl! You’ll have to mount a rescue.”

You turn and look expectantly at Chief Watcher Grimbriar.

“No,” he says. “Brigand’s Watch? They have a fortification built up there, and can see for miles around. They see a guard anywhere nearby and they’ll kill the girl without a second thought, and do who knows what else. I don’t have the men for a full assault.”

“So you’re just going to leave her?” you ask.

Grimbriar looks at you long and hard, and at length he says, “You’re the one who broke into the Briarstones’ estate last month, I know it. Slipped right past their dogs, somehow.”

“Well --” you say, “you can’t prove that.” You are actually quite proud of the feat, and don’t often get the chance to brag about it. Lady Hackberry feels it’s an inappropriate topic of conversation for mealtimes.

“Unfortunately, no,” the Chief Watcher agrees. “But I know it’s true. And if anyone can make it into Brigand’s Watch undetected, it’s the man who got past six bloodhounds without getting caught. What do you say?”

“I’m a tailor, Grimbriar,” you say. “I don’t adventure.” You know that he knows this is not true, but it’s only good form for him to keep up the ruse when he doesn’t have any evidence.

“So you’re just going to leave her?” he says.

~*~*~*~

The brigands have left one approach to their camp unwatched, and that’s the northern side, where the land rises up into a cluster of foothills around Starmere Lake, nestled beneath the Wildwood to the north and the Brandywood to the west. It is no small wonder; the land is wild here, too rocky for farming and too overrun for grazing. A few hunters come here occasionally, or so you have heard, but not many. It is far from Bree-town and Léonys has told you that it’s more trouble than it’s worth to haul a kill back from these woods, not with the Chetwood so near the town.

They’ve erected a palisade around their camp, but it’s a rush job, just a lot of logs driven into the ground and lashed together with rope. They’ve felled a great many trees to the south-east for this, which serves the double purpose of clearing the land between them and the town, and the farms and homesteads between. It doesn’t seem much like the other brigand camps you’ve seen -- the Blackwolds had watchmen, but their main camps were always nestled in comfortable ruins. This feels like they expect an attack of some sort, and it puts you on edge.

Not so on edge that you aren’t able to approach the palisade undetected. You hear voices on the other side, slurring with alcohol, but after a moment they pass on. You test the logs -- they’re placed sturdily enough -- and then quickly pull yourself up by the rope lashing the tops of them together, swing a leg between the sharpened points of the logs, and then throw yourself the rest of the way over, landing in a roll on the ground. You scramble to your feet immediately and duck behind a nearby tent, tucking your cloak close around you and hoping that to the casual observer you will look like just another bundle or blanket scattered around the sleeping area. But no one seems to have noticed your intrusion, and after a few moments you stand and quickly glance about.

You see no sign of any captives, but people typically keep things they don’t want to be stolen inward, rather than outward, and you imagine the same applies to prisoners they don’t want to escape. There is a gap in the palisade nearby, and from the outside you had seen a smaller compound here, tucked between two steep spurs of rock in the cliff behind. You quickly walk toward it, hoping anyone who sees you will assume you are simply one of their own, and slip inside.

There is a cage built on wheels inside the little area, and inside it you see a young woman sitting with her knees drawn up to her chest. She looks up as you approach, but does not speak at once.

“I’m here to help,” you say as you examine the lock. It’s a simple two-pin lock like thousands of others you could pick with your eyes closed, but the workmanship is odd -- shoddy. The metal is not formed well and it seems to you that someone tried to cool it too fast, and perhaps also form it when it was not hot enough. No smith in Bree-land that you know of would put their name to such work. You wonder where it came from.

“I filched the key a while ago,” the girl, Maribell, says, sitting up and reaching into her pocket. “I was too scared to use it, though. There are so many of them.”

From her voice, you think she’s about Helena’s age. She hands you a key that is somewhat better made than the lock, but still not good. “All right,” you say. You unlock the cage door, but even as Maribell slips out, you hear a sound to your right.

The cage is not the only structure in the little inner palisade. There is also a tent, larger than the ones outside and with blankets and furs covering the floor inside, and from this tent a man has emerged. He is holding an ugly rowan club, little more than a broken branch that someone has tied some rags around for a handle, and he looks angry.

“That’s Blake!” Maribell hisses, and you see why Thistleway was so intimidated by him.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he snaps. “You’d better have a sword for me, boy.”

“You know,” you grumble, stepping forward to face Blake, “if I had a silver for every time someone asked me if I had a sword today, I would have two. It’s not very many, but it’s odd that it happened twice, seeing as how I’m very clearly not carrying a sword.”

Blake charges, raising the club high. You stoop to the ground, catch a handful of dust, dry grass, wood shavings, and small pebbles, and then straighten up and throw the lot directly into his face. He stops short, dropping the club, and clutches at his eyes with both hands. Almost in the same movement you step forward, snatch a dagger from his belt with your other hand, and drive it upwards, into his abdomen.

You turn away from Blake before he hits the ground. “Quick, over the palisade,” you say, pointing at a stack of crates behind the cage. Maribell nods and climbs the crates, gingerly pulls herself to the top of the palisade, and then slips over it. You follow as quickly as you may. Even as you stand up, you hear a shout from inside the palisade behind you, and you take Maribell’s hand and the two of you begin to run.

~*~*~*~

Thornley’s Work Site is probably the nearest safe place, or safer, at any rate. The two of you hurry north for some distance before turning west to pass the Everclear Lakes on the north. You are both exhausted, but you don’t stop running until you reach the work site. Work has not resumed in the past few hours, and murmurs and then cheers arise as the two of you approach. You slow to a halt, leaning against the foundation of the building in progress to catch your breath, but at the sight of her father Maribell seems to gain a second win and she runs ahead and throws herself into his arms.

Kenton Thistleway catches his daughter and pulls her close, holding her tight. Someone offers you a waterskin and you accept it gratefully. You aren’t used to so much running after a heist; usually there is a hiding spot much closer that you can retreat to until everything blows over. And you dearly hope this blows over. Hopefully none of the brigands got a good look at your face -- else this might lead to dire consequences for you and your family. The Hackberry House is not too far from Brigand’s Watch.

You aren’t sure how long it is before Kenton approaches you, Maribell just behind him. He clasps your hand in his and there are unshed tears in his eyes. “Bless you,” he says. “You’ve returned my daughter safe to me! I cannot thank you enough!”

“How about some more water?” you ask, trying to lighten the mood. Really, you would rather not think about what might have happened to Maribell, for a number of reasons.

“Get the man some water!” Kenton shouts to no one in particular, and although you know he has no real authority here, someone passes up another waterskin, which he presses into your hands. “You’ve done so much for me,” he says. His expression darkens. “What about Blake?” he asks.

“Blake is dead,” Maribell quickly says. “He --” she looks at you and you realize with a start that you have not introduced yourself to her.

“Hathellang,” you say.

“Hathellang killed him,” Maribell says. “And good riddance to him.”

The foreman pushes through the workers and scowls at Kenton. “Thistleway,” he says, “take your daughter and go home. Take the rest of the day off. And next time you’re getting blackmailed, don’t just come in and not say anything about it. Tusks o’ fury!”

Kenton gathers his tools and he and Maribell head south along the Greenway. It is not the quickest way back to the Hackberry House, but you opt to walk with them. There is safety in numbers, and you would rather see them safe at least as far as the guard’s cabin, since you’ve apparently decided to make this affair your business.

When you arrive at the cabin, Lofar is still there. He looks up as your little party approaches with a broad smile. “Excellent!” he calls. “Glad no harm came to the lass.”

“Thank you, sir,” Kenton says. “I’m so sorry for stealing your sword. Thank you for being so understanding.”

“Don’t thank me,” Lofar says gruffly. “I sent you some work to do. What about it?”

“I haven’t finished it,” Kenton said. “I’ve barely started. I haven’t been able to focus much today. But here’s what I have.” He pauses to swing his workbag from his shoulder and draw out what you recognize as a set of old bellows-leather, marked to be used as a template for a replacement.

“Well, I can see you know what you’re doing,” Lofar says. “What’s all this?”

“The leather was cut wrong at the ends,” Kenton says. “It was putting too much strain here and here when they were used. They still worked, but that’s why they were wearing out so fast. I’ve added an extra measure at each end and I’ll reinforce these stress points when I replace it, so they’ll last longer before it needs replaced again.”

You think you see a spark of respect in Lofar’s eye, but he just nods and says, “Very good, very good. That’s good sense, that. Almost as sharp as a Dwarf-smith, this one. You can expect more work from me in the future, Thistleway.”

“Thank you,” Kenton says. You think he recognizes the high praise for what it is, coming from Lofar Ironband.

“I’ll be off, then,” you say.

“Not so fast,” Lofar says.

You scowl. “I have work to do too, Ironband,” you say. “Don’t tell me you want me to find another sword for you.”

“No,” Lofar says. “Actually, this is for you, seeing as how Thistleway doesn’t need it anymore.” He holds out a long, suspiciously sword-shaped bundle wrapped in cloth. “My assistant just brought it to me not an hour ago.”

You stare at it for a long moment. “Sir,” you say at length. “What am I going to do with a sword?”

Lofar scowls. “Consider it compensation for the fact that I accused you of a crime you didn’t commit and then tried to get you arrested,” he says.

“All right,” you say, taking the weapon. “Thank you, I suppose.”

“You’re welcome,” he says. “Just don’t actually be stealing anything from my shop.”

You look pointedly at Chief Watcher Grimbriar, who is standing behind Lofar with smugness and frustration warring on his face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ironband,” you say.

“Bah!” Grimbriar says. “Get out of here, Hackberry.”

You consider a parting barb, but think better of it, and instead you hurry ahead, down the lane that leads to the North-gate. More work to be done; you have to get rid of this sword. You have no use for a sword. But at least it should fetch a good price, if not at the market then among the Man-smiths near the West-gate. After you have dealt with this, you promise yourself, you will be headed directly home and you will not go out again today.

As you pass the Windview Estate and near the Sandheaver home, you stop short. You would recognize the bright green and red jacket up ahead anywhere -- but Léonys cannot be here. She’s on a hunt, in the north-eastern Chetwood, up away past Archet. You break into a jog, and call her name, but she does not hear you, and she turns and walks towards the West-gate, and when you round the corner and look after her she is gone.

You turn back to where Lily Sandheaver is standing outside her house. “Was that Léonys?” you ask breathlessly.

“Yes, it was,” she says. “Why do you ask?”

“What’s she doing here?” you ask.

“Nothing, anymore!” Lily says, and chuckles at her own joke. “She just bought some traveling rations from me, and firewood from Pasco Underhill up the hill. Said something about going into the Old Forest and not wanting to risk cutting wood there.”

You stare at Lily in disbelief for a moment. “The Old Forest?” you ask incredulously. “Whatever would she want in there?”

“Well I don’t know,” Lily says. “And what’s more, she said she was going by way of the Barrow-downs! It’s quicker, she said. Seemed in a terrible great hurry.”

What could Léonys possibly be thinking? You glance down the road to the West-gate, and then drop your eyes to the bundle in your hands. Well, perhaps you have a use for a sword after all.

“I’d like to buy some travel rations as well,” you say.

“Of course,” Lily says, and she collects a small bundle from the crate she keeps on her porch to sell to workers and travelers leaving town who have forgotten their lunches. “Forty-eight coppers, please.”

You count out the money, and bundle the meal into your pocket, then unwrap the sword. It’s a nice thing, sturdy and well-made, Dwarven designs worked into the hilt and pommel and running up one side of the otherwise unadorned sheath. You undo your belt and slide the scabbard loops over it, settling the weapon on your left hip, and then with a nod at Lily you turn and leave Bree behind, following Léonys out the West-gate, towards the Barrow-downs.

#lotro #lotro fanfic #the wind will set me racing #lotro oc #love my idiot son #my idiot son loves his idiot girlfriend #im an idiot too btw. were a trifecta

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aclowntiny · 11 months

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Foolproof- Seungkwan x Female!Best Friend!Reader

Shoutout to my irl first love for inspiring this…except for any getting together parts 🥲

Word Count: 3738 | Best Friends to Lovers, College AU, some Angst | Warnings: some language, my painfully obvious love for Boo Seungkwan I mean look at him he’s so cute PLEEEAAAASSSSSEEEE

It had been four years. Some would assume there was an anniversary of sorts, but if you were being honest, you didn’t even know what day it was. It didn’t really matter, just that it was early in the year four years ago that you officially met Boo Seungkwan.

You two had become fast friends, the young man introducing himself with great ease and charm, inspiring you to follow suit, and from there it took off- finding common ground was easy for you both. Seungkwan was impossible to dislike, a great singer with lots of music recommendations, the kpop ones being your favorites. He got you into more girl groups than you could count, but you started trying to infect him with your music taste, too.

There was a small student party, just an opening of a new building on campus, and you both went. That night ended up creating one of your favorite memories, the one where Seungkwan taught you how to correctly do the macarena, which you always messed up on, and it looked so funny you couldn’t help laughing as you joined him.

You started to find yourself actually feeling excited to go to class just at the mere prospect of him being there. In that section alone you would always have someone to talk to and share exasperated looks about the professor with. In a rare move, you initiated a study get-together just to get closer to him, and somehow it actually worked. The two of you were the longest ones to stay, and you ended up talking about books and movies and majors and slipping on banana peels far longer than you pored over your drafts.

You went to his performance in the music building, clapping and congratulating how amazing he did. He wasn’t expecting you to bring him a small bundle of flowers, but the way he lit up when you gave it to him was worth it.

Getting him hooked on your favorite game store was his roommates' bane, but your joy, the two of you picking out cute card games and ridiculous board games alike. It sold collectibles from your favorite franchise, which Seungkwan always threw into every birthday and Christmas gift...except for the one that referenced a comedy song you'd shown him, which you two now collectively referred to as your theme song.

Every trip you planned, despite going on very few, included each other. You guys were going to go to an amusement park, to Japan, to the beach, New York, his hometown on a Jeju trip, you name it. You and Seungkwan hadn’t gone on a one-on-one trip yet in four years, which might have been good for your heart in some ways, honestly.

Since Seungkwan lived on campus, you brought your laptop to the dorms and sat together in one of the common rooms so you could show him one of your favorite movies. You met his roommate, Jeonghan, and plenty of others. The three of you recruited Seokmin, Soonyoung, and Hansol, some classmates of theirs, for a dorm game night that became a weekly meeting. On the biggest nights there were fourteen of you there in that room, some fellow dorm-dwellers just wandering into the group, but Seungkwan stuck by you every time until the nerves of bring surrounded by strangers and established friends faded, your chest loosening up again along with your behavior. Soon, you had a large, eclectic, tight-knit group ranging from a handful of music and dance majors that already had at least perfunctory knowledge of each other to Seungkwan's advertising major roommate, a guy studying journalism, a quiet game design major, a fine arts student, and two business majors. One guy would be finishing up a painting for midterms while another had to calculate his fictional project’s cost risks, but you were all the same when Jeonghan cheated, one voice amidst a chorus of mirthful protests.

You got close to the other guys, but not like you were to Seungkwan. Both of you knew each other’s deepest secrets, all your struggles, and you even admitted you thought one of the guys in your group was cute before you realized your personalities didn’t match up like that.

Heck, Seungkwan had seen you literally at your worst, laying eyes on you in your crustiest state when he brought you ice cream after your wisdom teeth extraction. Tired, on meds, no nice clothes or makeup, probably still swollen, but for once you didn’t care. You were confident he’d see you the same no matter what. He was one of your best friends, after all. You didn't have to be fake. You felt the most yourself with him.

Not a phrase you'd have ever expected to use, but Seungkwan became your tangerine dealer. Every two weeks he'd pay a visit to home and come back with a huge box of them just for you. It got to the point where you paid him to bring some back for your family, too, your parents practically begging you to make sure you secured the citrus.

So many days that you strolled down campus lanes you longed to just reach over and take his hand in yours, having some movie moment beneath blowing autumn leaves where it just magically came together and boom, instant mutual love. But you knew firsthand life wasn’t like the movies. Heck, knowing how affectionate Seungkwan could be, he’d probably think you were just doing goofy buddy-buddy hand holding, not hey, you’re the cutest and funniest and most trustworthy person I know, please date me hand holding.

You’d gotten too many mixed signs to ensure a move like that would be foolproof.

Seungkwan asked you to dance at every event you went to that offered it. He also talked about asking a girl again that had requested him, leaving you shaken for the entire remainder of the 'college prom' despite the fact that she left before he could. You faked a smile when Seokmin invited you to dance, but it never came back the same until you and Seungkwan were in his car driving to the convenience store and chatting about your latest projects, no mention of the girl in the envy green dress.

You told him you'd never worn a suit jacket like his one night and he immediately stripped it off, handing it off to you to try.

He described his type once, saying this or that look on a girl was totally his style, and let's just say it was quite far from yours. It was almost laughable if it hadn't made you want to cry. That conversation was part of why you went through such a giving-up phase, trying to get the attention of one of the twelve other guys you hung out with to, somewhat depressingly, no avail.

But then another time he mentioned an old crush from high school, a girl you happened to have class with, and she basically had your style dialed up a notch.

You did try dating once, determined to get over Seungkwan once and for all, but when you showed up to a formal event maximally gussied and Seungkwan was the one who told you you looked nice, not your boyfriend who barely said hi to you, something in your chest just snapped. The other guy wasn't a great fit, either, and you ended up breaking it off when he picked one too many fights over your damn personality of all things. He told you to get serious once and that was the last straw because he'd had months to see your humor.

The next time your ex passed you by, shooting you two a glance across the crowded resident dining hall, Seungkwan pulled the same gag he'd hated just to show him.

One of the guys, Seungcheol, once asked about the two of you and you freaked out, denying anything and saying you guys were super duper close Just Best Friends. Later, you wondered if Seungcheol reported that to Seungkwan. But if he did, then why? How would that come up?

Why did Seungkwan seek you out for trips and hangouts and calls like that? Why were you so much less on edge with each other than you were in the one relationship each you guys tried? Why did he never do a single thing to pursue more in four freaking years? Then again, you did tell him you thought Chan was cute before you realized you couldn't keep up with his lifestyle. Too 'work hard, play hard'. You were used to someone who just wanted attention, something you were happy to give when they were as dynamic, hilarious, and deep down so caring as Seungkwan. But that was beside the point.

God, you wish you hadn't hammered in the point of your friendship so hard with Seungcheol. Had that been the moment that ruined everything? Had not confessing on that one phone call where Seungkwan went off track talking about his upcoming Lotte World trip before you could get around to it been the moment that ruined everything? Had feeling so comfortable, showing even the very inner, more damaged layers of your shell been what ruined it all? Or had there simply been nothing to ruin?

Every time you thought you were done, whether you thought you could be happy with someone or he could and that meant case closed or even that you could put everything you felt in a box and take his smile just as a testament to your friendship, something would happen to make you question what was really going on inside his head or make your heart beat a mile a minute. Even something as simple as going on a thirty-minute drive, eyes scanning Seungkwan's side profile as he talked, feeling a great urge to just kiss him right then and there.

Moving on would get harder, you assumed, when others started to learn. It hadn't exactly been intentional, at least not on your part, but one day you had met Minghao, the arts major from your chaotic game group, for lunch and he'd brought up Seungkwan, one of the biggest connections you two had. Ok, that was fine, just a normal conversation, until that is he dropped a bomb in the form of a very choice phrase.

"If you did that, he would be so happy he'd kiss you," Minghao had joked, eyes rolling a bit as his naturally infectious smile widened.

Your very natural, instinctual, practically biological at this point, reaction to any jokes about you and Seungkwan that anyone made was a deeply transparent glare your eyes melted into before your brain even computed it. Indeed, you felt it before you considered it, but by the time you willed your face to return to normal Minghao was staring at you with raised eyebrows.

"Oh."

"What?"

"You, uh, have feelings for him, don't you?"

"Maybe I was grossed out by your joke," you feigned, pointing accusingly at Minghao with your chopsticks.

Those darn eyes of him were like swords stabbing straight into your soul. "Were you?"

"No," you broke down, melting into a stream of sweet, sad, funny, and everything in between words of your messy failed love and how bad you wanted closure, but not if it came at the cost of losing or disconcerting one of the closest people in your life.

Soon you were sobbing, Minghao sliding out of his bench seat and into a spot at your side, where he pulled you close. You felt tears soak into the chilled fabric of his scarf, but he didn't seem to mind, silently rubbing circles into your back for a few moments before he gently spoke.

"Seungkwan talks about you all the time, you know. I think even if he couldn't return those feelings, it would take a lot worse for him to stop being your friend. He doesn't cut people off easily, you know that."

"I do," you agreed, "he hates it when people do that."

"Then why do you think he'd do it to you, the person he so clearly wants at everything you can be?"

"I-" You inhaled shakily. "I don't know. I've been rejected a lot. I even asked one of the guys out and he turned it into a group hangout."

"Is that why we went bowling instead of-"

"Yes," you muttered into his scarf.

"I really think you need to talk to Seungkwan."

"About everything?" Peeling your face back out of the scarf, you felt a chill breeze lap at the tears drying on your cheeks. "Why?"

"If nothing else because he's standing like twenty feet away giving me a really weird look I've only seen him give Chan, and that has only been since Bowling Night."

"Oh, God, does he think-"

"I don't know, but here," Minghao replied, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket. Leave it to him to have a beautifully embroidered ruby handkerchief in his pocket instead of a pack of Kleenex crushed beneath everything else in his backpack like every other college student.

"Thanks. Wish me luck."

"I don't believe in luck."

"Gee," you drew another shaky breath, rising unsteadily to your feet, "thanks."

"I believe in fate," Minghao smiled.

Art majors. You felt your eyes squinting in a half-glare before willing your defensive brain to be kind. Dabbing at your eyes, you attempted a wobbly smile, nodding and giving him one last thanks before wandering miserably over to Seungkwan. You couldn't help but crack a smile and chuckle at the way he cocked his head on you, the sound of mirth cracking into a sob because you hadn't fully exited cry-mode.

"Whoa, what's wrong? Or was that good crying? Did Minghao just confess? I gotta say, you and Minghao. Quite the surprise, I kind of would have seen you going for Seokmin or Soonyoung since they're funny and go better with-"

At all that, the floodgates opened again and you just strode off, sobbing. He was practically throwing you at all the other guys. You got it. Maybe that was the closure you needed, though if it was, why did it have to sting like ice piercing your lungs?

You always knew it would, though, if it came to it.

"(y/n), wait! Whoa!" Jogging to catch up with you, Seungkwan physically stopped you from walking, grabbing you by the shoulders and making you face him before he pulled you into a hug. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. What did Minghao say to you?"

"Nothing."

Seungkwan's face hardened in a way you'd never seen before, not even when the guys teased him in the ways he hated the most. "Did he hurt you? I love Minghao, but I swear if he said anything that ruined your day I'll punch his lights out."

"No," you shook your head, "no, please. We were just talking about something he thought I should do is all."

"Ok, so he didn't reject you and you're not dating? Good. Great first step."

Shoving the arts student in question's handkerchief back in your pocket, you raised an eyebrow. "Good?"

"Well, er, I mean, that is... you... you can date Minghao. Like, if you want to. I was surprised, but it's not a bad thing, like he's a good guy and all, just really quiet for someone who screams her head off during improv games and takes approximately point five seconds to initiate whipped cream fights."

Another shaky laugh, this time not quite fading into sobs. "Yeah, no. I don't want to date Minghao."

"Good. Great."

There they were again, those little things that got your hopes up. How well Seungkwan knew you, how deeply he was aware on whatever level that you two went together like peanut butter and jelly, how he could always make you laugh, how he seemed freaking glad you weren't getting yourself into a relationship. But if he wanted one, why didn't he say anything?

"Why do you keep saying that?" You burst out.

"What?"

"Good, great, all that," you turn slightly away from him.

He reaches over and straightens the collar of your jacket, yet another of the little caring motions you'd fallen in love with. A small way he touched you when he didn't have to. When his hands fell away, though, his jaw set, eyes fluttering closed as if in pain, like your words were a slap.

"I- I'm sorry, (y/n)."

"You don't have to be sorry," you sigh, "I just...wanted to know what that meant, I guess."

He blinked. "I know I'm one of your best friends and that's all you see me as- heck, I'm probably like a brother to you- but I admit I have a hard time with the idea of you going out with someone who isn't me. My mom told me I needed to realize I was in love with you when I apparently 'constantly talked about only you forever'," he began, making air quotes as he imitated Mrs. Boo, "but ever since I did I can't help but see the guys as threats. Especially Chan, because, well you know. I know what they say, though: you have to let them go. So whoever it is, as long as they're good, I just want to see you smile forever. Even if that's not Minghao or any of the guys. I care about you so much, (y/n), and when you said you wanted to be friends forever it touched my heart because I want the same. I really, really do. Maybe I didn't want to say that all for so long because it would have made it real, you know?" He asked with an awkward chuckle.

Holy shit. This time, your brain overrode your face, preventing a smile in favor of a shout. "I KNEW IT!" You exclaimed. "I knew saying that to Seungcheol was a bad idea! I didn't trust him with my feelings for you because he'd spill, but then why would my dumb ass trust him with a lie? Oh my God, I'm going to kill him. I thought I wasn't your type, so I just... it just seemed easier to hide them. Oh, my God!"

Seungcheol was a scapegoat for all the nights you'd spent cursing yourself, calling yourself stupid for not moving on when you'd gotten this or that sign, for believing this or that sign to the contrary, for hanging onto every last shred of hope that that extra-long hug might have meant something.

"Your feelings?" Seungkwan questioned, hands still on your shoulders as his head returned to its studying tilt. "I thought we were doing mine."

It sounded like a cry for attention, but you knew Seungkwan too well for that. Your face fell, and panicking he cupped your chin and pulled you up, only to see you shaking your head and half-sardonically, half-deliriously, laughing. What the heck were you guys doing? None of this felt real. He'd only processed one thing, and that was getting his confession out there. "I think our feelings might be the same," you reiterated.

"What do you..." Head un-tilted. Eyes wide. Grin increasing. "You were lying?"

"That's the first time I've seen you so happy about filthy deceit before."

"Hey, you told me you weren't going to use that phrase anymore," he pouted. Yep, even in the middle of all that, he was sensitive to the memes he'd made in the group. That was Boo Seungkwan for you, presentations class ace and funniest non-comedian you'd ever met.

"Sorry, it was too funny, Jeonghan loved when you said it then and he still does. Just like me to you," you added, trying to get him back on topic. You were not about to have another Lotte World Phone Call Debacle.

"You love me?" The hand that was under your chin slid to your cheek.

You nodded. "I can't believe it wasn't obvious by, well, everything. When I look at you I can feel the change in my eyes. They have to look different when they fall on yours versus anyone else. They feel twice their size and like they must have that anime shine in them."

"That's...one of the sweetest things I've ever heard."

"Well," you give your first full, genuine smile since bursting into tears on Minghao, "it's true. You make me feel like my fullest self. That's why I always seek you out. I'm scared to sing in front of people, but with you I'll belt out whatever we play. You know things about me my own parents don't even know, and that's because you've given me nothing but reason to trust and value you like you have me."

"Wow," Seungkwan sighed, sniffing, "I...I can't believe I got so lucky, I just..."

The moment he trailed off, you took a hold of his cheek, too. "Hey, whoa now, don't you start crying too, I'll do it again."

"And we don't want that."

You'd cried countless times over your feelings toward Seungkwan for almost exactly four years, though there was no anniversary. You hadn't known how important that day in class would become to you, despite how many times you'd thanked it now. Typed out paragraph upon paragraph about how no one else makes you feel quite as yourself, quite as at home, as the man from Jeju who loved hosting game nights at every opportunity. The man who would never look at a girl like you. You'd tearfully imagined how he'd reject you, how he'd accept you, if your confession would burst out during your first fight like in a movie, if you could ever have that moment in the autumn light you'd always imagined.

Well, it wasn't autumn, in fact it was a cold January day you'd more than shivered through on the lanes between each building, those falling leaves long died away and crumbled into the dirt. The trees looked like sticks, your cute outfits hid under your coats, and sometimes your nose ran. Surely it was right now after all your eyes had done. But somehow, as you looked at Seungkwan, all of that was more beautiful than every red and gold that could have drifted on the wind.

"No, we don't, do we?"

Seungkwan leaned a little bit closer. "I know we're both, like, totally crying, but I think it's safe to say we both know what we do want?"

Tears on tears cancelled out. Mingled, even, like debts paid.

#seventeen #seventeen imagines #seventeen reactions #seventeen x reader #seventeen scenarios #seungkwan #seungkwan x reader #seungkwan x female reader #female reader #best friends to lovers #college au #angst

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smallraindrops-blog · 11 days

Text

I Know A Place (just for you and me)

Part Three

WMFTD: Drabbles

WMFTD!Y/N X Hypnos

Word count: 7.5k

Warnings: implied sex, AUs out of the wazoo, no beta.

Notes: sorry for being gone for so long. It wasn’t planned. Request that have already been sent are being worked on and I won’t be accepting any for the moment.

Enjoy the randomness

Run (Zombie AU)

The boxes of flavored oatmeal and fruit snacks were out of date but you didn’t care. It might as well have been a delicious bloody steak as far as you were concerned.

It also meant that the group would have food for the night. Maybe even tomorrow depending on how the other runners did.

Quickly you packed the goods into your backpack, flashlight between your teeth. There was a low rumble in your stomach but you ignored it.

You had gotten very good at ignoring your stomach.

The gas station had been destroyed at some point, broken glass everywhere, the shelves tipped over. It must have happened early on since there was a noticeable lack of gore.

After you searched the rest of the building, scowling when you had found the backroom empty of any stock, you began the run back to camp.

With a tight grip on the tire iron that had been with you since the first day, you tried to keep a steady and quick pace. It would be twilight soon and it didn’t matter how fast or strong a person was, no one wanted to be caught in the dark.

Everything had changed so fast. A mere year ago, you were among one of the famous boxers in the world, well on your way to the championship. Now, you were in a town with no name, fighting for your survival.

All because some rich asshole lied and sold meat contaminated with the ‘Wasting’ sickness to every single damn grocery in the nation.

Thankfully the run back was empty of any zombies. Which was odd considering how active they normally were during dusk.

You lifted a hand in greeting at the wall guards, and let the nurse do the check up before opening the doors. You saw that her hands were trembling. At your frown, she offered up a strained grin.

Several pairs of eyes lifted up in acknowledgment when you stepped past the imposing fences. You gave a nod - a silent ‘we got food tonight’ and got smiles of relief in return.

As one of the runners, you didn’t have to cook - thank gods, you weren’t that great of a cook back when spices were readily available, let alone now- and dropped off the goods in the kitchen.

It looks like some of the others had found a dented box of cereal, another found canned peas.

It was clear the group will have to widen the search radius soon. Food was running low.

You rubbed your face in frustration as you left the kitchen. So far the crops had yielded little and no one trusted meat easily now. No one knew how much the wasting disease affected other animals. Since the CDC had thought it wasn’t transmissible in the first place only to be proven horrible wrong.

The dorms were blissfully empty but you didn’t go to your bed. Sleep wasn’t what you wanted. The moment you saw him, a weight lifted from your chest.

He didn’t see you at first, his brow furrowed over the gardening book. His white curls were hidden by a red beanie but it had gotten long enough that his ends curled around his collarbone.

It wasn’t until he flipped to the next page that his eyes snagged on you and his lips curled up in a shy grin.

Gods help you, Hypnos had a gorgeous smile.

His smile had been the first real one you had seen in months when you found the military base. He had looked so angelic in the morning light with his white curls and amber eyes, you thought you really did die and he was there to guide you to the afterlife.

“Hey.” He greeted you quietly, tipping his face up for a kiss.

“Hey.” You returned just as quiet, finally able to breath past the knot in your chest.You kept the kiss gentle, cupping his chin. You just wanted to feel his warmth.

Just wanted him.

Once the kiss broke, you joined him in the cramped bed, dumping your backpack and weapons on the floor. Yours and his legs tangled together as you pulled him close. Until Hypnos, you had forgotten how good it was to just hold someone.

“Any luck?” Hypnos whispered, sighing in peace as he buried his face against the hollow of your neck.

“A little bit.” You muttered, closing your eyes. “Oatmeal. Some fruit snacks. Another runner found peas.”

“Ooh. Sounds delicious. Much better than my day. They had us work on escape routes today.” Hypnos murmured. “It's too bad, I was looking forward to the chance to work in the garden. I think the tomatoes might be fruiting soon.”

Your body tensed up at the words, your eyes snapped open, staring blindly at the lines of beds.

That… wasn’t normal. The practices for escaping were all in weekly rotation, along with training for first aid and weapons safety. Today’s training was supposed to be a refresher on medicine and emergency care.

The nurse’s tight, worried expression flashed in your mind's eye.

“Just in case.” Hypnos rushed to assure you, pulling away enough to smile up at you. “Others didn’t like it either but it never hurts to be safe. You know?”

You said nothing for a long moment, mind rushing. Hypnos’ smile changed into a faint worried expression as he whispered your name. You heard the question in his voice.

Realizing that he was waiting for you to say something, you offered up a smile, running your knuckle against his soft cheek. You prayed that it would be enough to hide your own stress.

“Yeah, you’re right, my love. It never hurts to be safe. I’m just tired.”

Relief bloomed in his face, lighting up his sleepy eyes and he gave you a quick kiss before returning to his spot. “We have time to doze before dinner starts.” Hypnos yawned, already halfway asleep.

You muttered a mindless agreement.

That nurse… Her hands were usually as steady as yours. Flesh made into steel.

But not today.

Then the noticeable lack of the dead wandering around… you thought you had gotten lucky.

Something was wrong.

Your eyes flickered toward one of the windows, it will be night soon. You had a hidden map in your bag. You weren’t that far from the mountains, from possible safety for you and Hypnos.

“Hey, how about we stay in my bed tonight?” You asked, cupping the back of his head. Hypnos gave a hum of agreement, “Sounds good to me. More quieter on your side anyway.”

You had lost everything when the world ended. Your parents, your friends along with most of your humanity.

At the end of the world, you had found him.

You will be damned before you lose him.

Ocean (mermaid, Hypnos’ pov)

Many had whispered under their gills of the lazy, spoiled Hypnos. The last child born to the Great Queen Nyx and possibly her greatest disappointment. But what they couldn’t say was that Hypnos didn’t do his duty to his family.

Hypnos grimaced, lifting his wrist up to study it as he wrapped his tail around the large tip of a jagged stone deep in the reef, his eyes locked onto his wedding band. It was thin but heavy, with pearls and rubies embedded in the gold.

No, Hypnos thought with a dim, hard satisfaction, they couldn’t say that.

Dozens of impossibly small fishes, their colorful scales glinting as they hurried away into hiding holes. Hypnos didn’t move for a moment, watching how the eels ducked deeper into their caves, how turtles began to quietly move away, the gentle anemones closing, even the handful of the sharks darted away.

Then a large shadow was casted over his form.

“You know it isn’t safe out here.” The deep timbre of his mate’ voice rumbled, causing Hypnos to shiver unwillingly, his fins fluttering in response.

Not turning around to acknowledge you, Hypnos straightened his back and crossed his arms. He stared past the colorful reef and out into the depth of the sea. “Well, that's why you are here, right? Everything now should be safe as- as… a school of planktons!”

”Until a whale shows up.” You replied, moving in front to easily block Hypnos’ view with your large form.

The differences between you and him couldn’t be more clear.

Hypnos had the bright colorful scales of his people, his tail was a rich red with dramatic ruffled fins edged with white. A trait that made him stand out the dark greens, blues and purples of his family and he was proud of it even if it made Nyx grimace at the mere sight.

In contrast, you looked like the very beasts that you and your people were meant to protect his kingdom from. At least twice as tall and more than double the size of Hypnos. You looked like you were born to fight with a tail of onyx black, thick and powerful, built to cut through water with a speed and power Hypnos’ kind never could reach.

Scars lined your muscular form, but the ones that caught Hypnos’ eyes were the huge circular marks along your shoulder and chest. He never had even seen a giant squid but you had. You had fought one and survived.

His eyes flickered toward yours, growing wide when he realized that you were studying him. Under your cool gaze, it felt like every ugly, childish part of him was laid out for you to judge. Yet his heart raced, a heated flush growing under his pale skin.

Hypnos scowled, unwrapping his tail as he drifted to the side to put some much needed space between you and him. It wouldn’t do for you to see his unwelcomed emotions.

”Just because we are married doesn’t mean I have to stay by your side at all times, like some poor lovesick anglerfish.” Hypnos muttered, pointly swimming away.

Not that you seemed to care, following him with ease. The deadly trident strapped to your back didn’t seem to slow you down at all.

“I never said that.” You told him, voice relaxed and low enough to rival the deep. If he had turned around, he would have seen the flash of warning in your eyes.

Hypnos scoffed. ”It was implied.”

An uncomfortable silence fell between the pair, one that weighted on Hypnos. He picked up speed, knowing you would keep up. Jerk.

Typically the reef, his home for as long his ancestors had existed, was flushed with life swirling all around. Now the creatures were hidden, waiting for the long shadows of his mate to leave. They never hid from him before. Hypnos wasn’t a predator; however you were and the animals of the reef sensed it.

Fed up, Hypnos swirled around to face you, shoving his hair out of his face. His annoyance deepened when you drifted past him lazily. “Is there something you want from me?” He snapped, his tail lashing slightly.

You stopped and turned to face him, far too close for comfort, the masculine line of your jaw stern as you stared down at him. Then something flickered in your eyes, a shadow that made Hypnos’ instinct scream at him to swim fast and far as he could.

Before he could move, your hands snapped out and caught him like he was a dumb prey. You pulled him flushed against your chest with one arm, your rock tight grip pinned his own arms down, keeping him from escaping.

Your fingers caught his chin and with a firm yet gentle touch you tilted his face up.

Hypnos wanted to scream but all he could muster up was a weak, breathless growl. You leaned down like you were going to kiss him.

Flames licked along his back, the memory of the first kiss shared at the altar rushing back. It has been chaste, soft with your fingers pressed against his cheek but there was a quiet, possessive promise of more.

A promise that Hypnos had been hellbent on avoiding, going so far as to sleep in a separate room from you and trying to stay as far away from you as he could. But it felt like you were always lurking now, watching him with the keen eye of a predator.

You stopped when just a hairbreadth away with a smile, your expression softening. Hypnos swallowed, his breathing shaky, his anger forgotten in the pounding rush of his blood, drowning out anything else. Then you chuckled, the dark sound vibrating through Hypnos.

“If you get eaten by something not me, my little nymph then the whole deal is off. So what I would like is for you to return to our pod.” Your smile dropped. “Now.”

With that you let him go.

With his cheeks burning from embarrassment, Hypnos glared up at you, dozens of bubbles escaping his mouth and gills as he bit back the many foul names he had come up for you.

”Oh, noooo. We wouldn’t dare to hope for that, now would we?” Hypnos finally snapped, not able to hide the bruising his pride just took. With that, he turned around and casted one last longing glance at the silent reef.

“When the pod of orcas are banished from the area, I can bring you back.” You offered. There was an unspoken apology in the undercurrent of your voice.

It was only for the sake of his people that he didn’t turn around and slap you. That and he knew it would fail.

“Very well.” Hypnos said stiffly.

Later, much later with the Reef only a memory, Hypnos returned to his chambers alone. He paused when he spied something on his vanity and drifted over, smiling at Monie, a littler pufferfish Hypnos had since his youth, dozing on the bed of seaweeds.

It was a small box, made from stone and kelp. With a furrow brow, he risked a peek. Inside there was a lovely red anemone resting on a stone, the tentacles swaying.

The note attached read, ‘Not an apology. A promise.’

Snapshots (BTIBN!AU)

The first photo Hypnos picked out was one taken in his junior year of college, with your arms wrapped around his waist, both grinning up at the phone. If one looked close enough, his face had thinned out and there was a shadow lurking behind your eyes. Hypnos never could explain why he picked that one.

He placed it on the wall with a simple black frame. (It was the first day out of the hospital, and you couldn’t stop touching him, he had caught a bad flu the previous winter and you had counted down the days until you could hold him close again.)

When you found one of the photos your parents took on prom night, you couldn’t resist placing it on the dresser.

The shy, happy smile on Hypnos’ face, the way you and he matched with red ties (a detail that Hypnos included for the wedding as well). And you, still a young idiot who was ignoring his parents’ amused eyerolls, were beaming down at Hypnos like he had hung the moon and stars.

You loved it (loved him) and glanced at it every morning as you got ready.

Another photo Hypnos added to the wall was the first day they got Moine. The little puff of cotton stared up at Hypnos with naked adoration in those wet black eyes. The first night they had fallen asleep on the loveseat together, Monie curled under Hypnos’ chin.

You had quietly taken the photo, heart overflowing. (Monie was never impressed by you, always choosing to walk away with a huff when you got home before Hypnos. Whenever Hypnos was ill, the little dog never left his side, loyal as you were.)

It took some time for you and Hypnos to agree where to place the wedding photos. Eventually some went into a shoebox, tucked away somewhere in the closet. But the ones that made it found a home on the fireplace mantle. Save for one.

Hypnos placed it on his nightstand.

(Meg had a surprisingly good eye for photography and had caught a moment between you and Hypnos. You and him had ducked away for a moment of privacy-or so you thought yet you couldn’t be that upset over it. Under the warm patio lighting, you and him were swaying alone, his head tucked against your shoulder. Your eyes were closed, cheek resting against the top of Hypnos’ head, your face relaxed for the first time all day. )

Countless more photos were added, of bright summer days and laughter. Of graduations, of parties and weddings. Of Monie and his beloved tennis ball.

Then…

Children.

Each one of them broke your heart when they came into the world screaming. Long nights of diaper changes and bottle feeding. Baseball games and ballet recitals with last minute poster boards projects. Bedtime stories and late night snacks. Scraped knees and first bike rides, of their first crushes and heartbreak, of birthdays and mundane ( and utterly perfect) days, of finding their own dreams and paths.

Then somehow they were grown.

(How was that even possible? Photos of their beaming faces, round cheeks with gap tooth smiles that changed into proud expressions with graduation caps, line the walls. Their childhood was told in fleeting moments caught in frames.)

Days went into months that turned into years that somehow became decades in a blink.

Your parents beaming over the dinner table. A few more lines on their faces and a little more grayer.

One of the most favorite photos you have of your parents was in your office. Gray at Pa’s temples, his body worn down by years of nursing and Achilles’ blue eyes made bigger with glasses, it was them simply holding hands during the last holiday with everyone together. As if they all knew subconsciously.

(Gods, only if you had the power to stop time in its tracks. You made sure to keep them together in the end. Not even death kept them apart for long. )

It was when you saw the newest photos Hypnos placed by the doorway that you had stopped in your tracks. You didn’t recognize yourself.

The photo was one of the bunch you and Hypnos had with the children and their partners. Hypnos looked beautiful as always, smiling cheerfully with his cheek on your shoulder.

You… you looked older, lines around your eyes formed, your hair a little more grayer than you remembered.

(It had been a good day, filled with laughter and joy, kisses made sticky with maple syrup and smiles warmed by coffee.)

When did you become this old man before you? You still felt like you were that kid in the letterman jacket, fingertips covered with spray paint and staring longingly at the beautiful boy with golden eyes that belong to the sunset.

You shook your head, scowling as you turned the lights off for the night and went looking for your husband.

He was in the bedroom, curled up with a new book under the thick quilt they had for years. He didn’t hear you come in, so you shamelessly took the moment to watch him, crossing your arms as you leaned against the door frame.

To you, Hypnos hadn’t aged a day. He was just as beautiful as the day you saw him standing on your porch on that summer day, eternal as the sunset itself.

His eyes flickered up, blinking behind the glasses that you had finally managed to convince him to wear. The black frames suited him, making the gold of his eyes vivid. He placed his book down and waited for you to speak.

”When did we get old?” You asked him with a sigh, walking over to your side of the bed. On your nightstand was a photo of just Hypnos, beaming at you from across a diner table, a mug of coffee by his elbow.

You don’t remember the occasion for the road trip. Just that he had looked like perfection in that early morning sunlight coming behind him.

(you could live countless lifetimes, it still wouldn’t be enough time with Hypnos.)

Hypnos smiled, lines forming around his eyes. “Did you just now notice?”

You grumbled, “I don’t feel old.”

Laughing, Hypnos gestured to you to join him and you obeyed as you always did. Like a puzzle piece, he tucked against you, his hand over your chest and you tightened your arms around him.

”I love you.” You murmured into his hair, running a hand along his back. It was the only words you could come up with because how could you even begin to summarize everything that he was to you? To thank him for choosing you, for their shared life, for the children and filling their home with laughter and love?

Hypnos kissed the hollow of your neck.

”I love you, too.”

(How did you get so, so lucky?)

Marks (Soulmate!AU)

“It is a pretty uncommon name. Are you sure that you are on the right website?” Pa sounded distant over the phone, the sounds of dogs barking and running around in the background.

With a heavy eye roll, you spun around in your chair and glanced at the soul mark website. Set up by the UN in the early thousand, it was meant to be a far easier way for soul mates to find each other.

Before the net, people had to rely on letters and documents and often prayer to find their one. Never before in known history, had it been so easy to find a soulmate.

Upon adulthood, most people put their mark’s name in the database along with an uploaded photo of the mark and their own names. If they were lucky, they would meet their soulmates that day.

“Yeah, pretty sure.” You muttered. Honestly, you weren’t in a rush. Most soul pairings seemed way obsessed with each other. Codependent if one would. Including your parents, much as you loved them.

Too much work. Too much time. Too many expectations.

”Hopefully they aren’t in one of those cults.” Dad said, his voice louder than Pa’s, “I have a friend who’s son in law was in one. So if-“

And you were done. You weren’t going to listen to this. Again. “Hey, I gotta get back to work. Love you guys, see you for dinner next week.”

Hanging up the call, you went to close the website yet your fingers lingered over the keyboard. It wasn’t that you haven’t looked for this Hypnos before. The name alone was enough to make you curious but nothing ever came up. Even now that you were comfortably settled in your early thirties.

With a huff of annoyance at yourself, you clicked it close.

The late golden sunlight caught on your mark, the red and gold poppies gleaming around your soulmate’s name. It had been with you since you were five years old, forming on your forearm overnight.

Mindlessly, you brushed your fingers along the flowers then you caught yourself and pulled your hand away like the mark burnt you.

On a damp Tuesday morning, your ancient electric kettle gave out. As in it caught on fire.

With a curse, you tossed it into the sink, black smoke causing you to cough. The smoke alarm began to scream, ringing in your ears and you were not awake enough to deal with this.

Once you were sure the kettle wouldn’t burn down your home, you stumbled out into the world, desperately looking on your phone for a nearby coffee shop.

Wet droplets landed on your face, cold and sharp against your skin. Realizing that you forgot your umbrella, you flipped the hood of your jacket up in vain against the oncoming storm.

Then as if the universe decided that it hated you and everyone else, the clouds began to pour rainwater down on the busy city street.

Today was most definitely not your day.

You picked up speed, water splashing against your legs until you found the small coffee shop and ducked into it. With some disbelief, you stared out into the city, feeling like a drowned rat.

Coffee, then you can sit down at a table while feeling sorry for yourself.

You got in line, trying to find something on the menu that wasn’t a bomb of sugar and cream. A young woman, with forest green dreads and toothy smile, was rushing around mumbling to herself. As she helped the customer before you, she took a moment to turn around and yelled to the closed back doors.

“Hypnos! I got a line and I need help!”

You stopped breathing.

It had to be a nickname. Surely.

Then the door opened, a man with impossibly white curls and an armful of bottles of syrup stepped out.

“I know Dusa, I know.” The man yawned, unaware of you staring at him. You couldn’t help it, he was the most lovely, most perfect man you ever saw. He plopped the bottles down onto the and turned to you as he tied up his black apron.

The first thing you noticed was that his bottom lip was just a little more fuller than his top one. Second, you noticed that his eyes were heavy with dark circles but that didn’t stop him from smiling cheerfully at you.

Gods, it hadn’t even been a minute and you wanted to kiss him.

Your eyes flickered to the name tag and there it was, same spelling and everything.

Hypnos. Hypnos. Hypnos.

“So what can I get ya today, sir?” Hypnos chirped, unaware that he had changed everything for you in a single moment. Thick white lashes framed around his golden eyes and you couldn’t breath.

Your mouth opened but nothing came out so you shut it, trying to come up with something. There were movies of people making the perfect speech, books filled with breathtaking moments of first meetings.

All you could do was stare.

”Sir?” Hypnos said, and he sounded like he was unimpressed with a touch of worry as his golden eyes - and how the world did he have those irises, it seemed too divine for a mortal- darted to Dusa.

“I-“ your voice cracked and you stopped. Now everyone was staring at you. You were being an idiot.

Without hesitation, you yanked up your jacket sleeve and revealed the soul mark. You could have swore the colors were more vibrant, more lifelike than ever before. Like the flowers had come alive just for Hypnos.

Hypnos’s name caught gold in the bistro lighting.

Hypnos’ mouth dropped open, his hand automatically wrapped around his forearm as he stared at your arm. He kept his arm close to chest as if trying to protect himself.

“It is you.” You said finally, like something inside of you had been missing and you had found it - found him, and the last piece clinked in place, like it belonged. You understood now.

For a long moment, he said nothing, only staring at you.

Then with an unusual calm, Hypnos turned to Dusa, “I quit.”

Without another glance at you, he promptly booked it toward the backroom and out of your sight.

You moved before you realized it, climbed over the counter and darted into the back to where Hypnos went. You ignored Dusa’s surprise cry, the murmuring of the customers as your eyes darted around the kitchen.

Realizing that the back door was opened, you rushed back out into the rain, and caught a glimpse of him just as he turned the corner.

With your jaw tight with determination, your heart pounding in a rhythm that belonged only to Hypnos, you gave chase.

Repetition (Reincarnation!au, Hypnos’ Pov)

The Wise ones, all three of them, were smiling over him. Their hands laid on his chest, over his heart. He stared up at the night skies, at the billions of stars. At the countless moments, lives flowing like river water over stone.

He was gasping for breath, tears streaming down his face. His wings fluttered like the delicate petals of Amare willows that bloom outside his childhood window.

He had been reborn.

They didn’t speak. They didn’t need to.

His Captain wasn’t much different from his other lives. Your eyes still burned with the intensity of a black sun, your shoulders were still broad enough to carry the weight of the world and countless scars still marked your body like constellations of the milky-ways.

Hypnos knew it was you the moment he laid eyes on you.

Turn out, finding you weren’t the hard part. It was everything after that. He wanted to fall in your arms, to feel your mouth against his and to rediscover you. He just wanted to be loved and to love you once more.

Maybe patience was the lesson he was meant to learn in this life but if his memory served him right, patience was a lesson he had learned before. Yet here he was, learning it once more.

It was hard, especially when he ached just being near you. Only he hadn’t seen you at all today or yesterday, you must have been too busy writing reports or something.

He stood before your personal rooms, playing with the keycard in his hands. You had given it to him after the second attack, a full three months after the first. It wasn’t for romantic reasons like Hypnos knew it was for some species, you had made that perfectly clear. Purely for emergencies, you had repeatedly told him.

Shaking away the bitter thought, Hypnos pressed on the intercom outside of the door.

It came alive with a faint glow, the robotic voice sounded bored as it spoke. “Name and reason?”

“It’s me. Hypnos. I mean. And I just…” Before he could recall the made up reason he had for showing up, the door opened.

With a deep breath,Hypnos stepped into the room. He couldn’t hide his curiosity as he tried to take in everything.

The living room was spartan, with only a sofa and loveseat that came with the ship. The low table in front was bare of any personal items. The open kitchen was empty as well, not a single bottle of spice out on the counter.

Hypnos was torn between worry and helpless amusement.

It was a faint thing, hazy like the river lethe but Hypnos knew this wasn’t new. It was familiar in a way.

‘A few blankets, pillows, a handful of warm lights and we could make this a lot cozier.’

Then your voice reached him, “Hypnos, in the office.”

”Coming.” Hypnos called out, glancing over the room once more time.

When he found you in your office, you were pouring over a starmap, a glass in your scarred hand. You took a sip as he knocked and waited for your permission to come in, even though he wanted to rush toward you.

You glanced at him, then nodded. Hypnos hurried in, before you changed your mind, the door closing behind him with a click.

He studied your office, unlike many others, You kept it simple, a dark desk with a nameplate and a few awards on the wall. On one side, there was a window, open to reveal the void of space, with far away stars gleaming.

If he knew you and he liked to think he did, you probably had at least ten different weapons hidden away somewhere.

Hypnos settled in the surprisingly comfortable chair before your desk, not saying anything.

You took a sip of your drink, the liquid amber in the dim lighting. “Can your species drink human alcohol?”

Your voice was husky, rich and dark as the mines of his home world and Hypnos shivered. His wings perked up in pure animalistic instinct but he stilled them, his stomach hot with embarrassment and maybe something else entirely.

“I can. Yes.” Hypnos replied, hoping his voice didn’t give away his thoughts.

You politely moved up from your desk to get him a glass and poured him a drink. The whole time Hypnos studied you, admiring the flex of your powerful muscles under the captain’s uniform.

When you came closer to hand over the drink, Hypnos wanted to pull you closer but he didn’t.

Hypnos curled his hands around the drink instead then sniffed it. It was a familiar smell, filled with sharp, warming spices. Where he had known this smell before…

“Rum. The makers claimed they were one of the original creators from Earth.” You told him, and tapped his glass with yours. At the same time, you and him took a sip.

Warmth flooded his mouth and raced down his chest before settling low in his stomach.

Then everything rushed toward him.

Ropes, sea salt, the sway of a ship, moonlight on dark waters, powerful waves crashing against earth, bruises on his thighs and rough kisses with rubies -or blood- and gold spilling everywhere.

Hypnos closed his eyes. Oh yes, he remembered that life. That had been one well lived.

Silence overtook as you returned to the map, writing notes down on a tablet. The starmap casted an pale blue glow in the room, millions of little stars gleaming over your desk.

Hypnos continued to drink, warmed by the liquid and memories that tasted like the ocean, the blue so deep he wondered he would ever see its likenesses again. He shifted, letting his legs swing idly, his wings swaying along in beat.

Then you turned the map off. The tablet dimmed.

Hypnos blinked, his wings fluttering softly with his curiosity.

“Tell me about one.” You ordered, leaning back against your chair. Your eyes were locked onto him. Hypnos swallowed, his pulse racing as he took one last sip. He pushed his empty glass toward you.

A beat of silence, then you grabbed the bottle, and using your teeth, uncorked it. Your eyes unwavering, like you decided you were ready to peel all of his secrets away. Hypnos hated how much he was looking forward to it.

He ached with so many unspoken words.

With a full glass of rum between his hands, Hypnos met your eyes. “Tell you what?”

“About one of these past lives. Or alternative universes or whatever.’” You replied with an unimpressed eyebrow, placing the cork back in, your thumb pressing down on it. “Any of them, your pick.”

Hypnos swirled his drink, his brow furrowed. He didn’t know which one he should pick. What if he chose badly and you kicked him out? Or pick one of the more fantastical ones and you thought him as a liar. Not mentioning the fact Hypnos was still recovering so many moments, like small, precious white shells on the beach, picking them up one at a time.

”It is hard to just choose one.” Hypnos admitted, unfolding his legs and shifted closer to your desk. He took a sip then sighed.

“One of the first ones I remember… Language wasn’t a thing, not really. All we could do was point and grunt if you will. We just hadn’t evolved to speak complex languages, not yet. The one of the courting gifts you gave me was a big clay jar, filled with bright red pigments for cave painting. My favorite color.” Hypnos paused, not able to look at your face.

He was terrified of what he would find in your expression. Yet the words spilled from him, like confessions of sin. “I still wonder if I could find the cave with our handprints. It must be out there somewhere- or maybe that planet had been swallowed up by its sun by now.”

Silence took over for a long breathless moment and Hypnos took another sip, deeper. He felt so warm, like it was mating season and all he wanted- all he wanted…

You finished your drink, the sound of glass loud as you placed it down.

”Tell me another.” You ordered as you stood, and Hypnos watched you move around your desk and stopped in front of him. All Hypnos could do was stare up at you, helpless. You leaned against your desk, powerful arms crossed and gestured for him to continue.

He swallowed, “There are so many, I can recall one where you were a superhero and I worked as handler. Then another world where you were an artist, often struck by fits of madness, you called me your beloved muse. There were so many where we met as children, in one of those lives, we shared a first kiss on a snowy night. Another one where you were a pirate…”

”A pirate?” You said with a quiet laugh. Hypnos flushed at your tone, not used to you sounding so light. He lifted his half-full glass with a smile before taking a quick sip.

“You were quite fond of rum.” Hypnos teased after he swallowed, a knot in his chest slowly slipping open, his stomach warmed. You leaned in, and took the glass from him. Before Hypnos could process what happened, you were downing his drink.

All Hypnos could do was watch, your Adam’s apple bobbing as you polished off the rum. One drop of rum almost escaped, but you caught it in time with a swipe of your tongue. He copied you without realizing it, feeling like he was at a feast but not allowed near the table.

You always kept the full uniform on, and Hypnos wished he was bold enough to reach over and reveal the secret flesh underneath, to trace the line of your neck with his tongue. His wings twitched and jerked, wanting to flare out in a mating display and woo his mate closer.

His wings were going to give him away with how obvious they were.

“The caveman one, was that the first one you remembered?” You placed the glass down. Your foot hooked around the chair leg and pulled Hypnos closer. The sound was loud in the quiet, a final warning.

But for what he didn’t know.

He grabbed the chair arms, looking down with a blush. Somehow he suddenly felt shy.

“Ah.” Hypnos tried to find his words, very aware of how much bigger you were than him. He could swear that he could feel your body heat this close. “No.”

Your fingers brushed along his jawline, curling under his chin and his breath hitched as his face was tilted up.

Like breathless gravity, Hypnos caught in your gaze, like the moon once to earth, lovers so close yet were millions of miles away. He couldn’t look away if he wanted to. Under the heaviness of your stare, he felt weightless.

”Tell me.” You ordered in a whisper, moving slightly closer, your other hand moving past his side and gripped the arm of the chair. Like this, Hypnos was completely trapped in.

Hypnos smiled. There was a touch of sadness in it. One that you noticed judging by the silght furrow in your brow.

“I was an immortal god and you were a dead moral. A man turned to a shade.” Hypnos whispered. He waited, sure you would pull away. You didn’t. Your thumb caressed along his cheek in slow, gentle swipes.

Hypnos let out a shuddering breath, closed his eyes. “Yet we found each other.”

Maybe he should say more but no words came. That life had been so vivid in his mind’s eye, a part of him still wondered if that universe still existed, far out of his reach, one where you and him existed forever in a small corner of the vastness so very happy and loving.

He hoped so, a quiet heaven with you was what his soul was made for.

“You terrify me.” You admitted, causing Hypnos to open his eyes with surprise. You gave him a rueful smile. Your voice was low enough to sink into Hypnos’ bones.

“Me?” Hypnos whimpered, not able to comprehend the idea of him being scary. Maybe if someone had a phobia of naps or of ridiculous creatures who walked into walls on occasion.

The mere idea of it… It was laughable.

”You just came from the stars one day without a single warning. I tried to stay away but I couldn’t. In every room I step into, I look for you.” You pressed your thumb on the corner of his lip. “I should be able to dismiss all these stories without a blink, of these past lives or alternate universes. But I can’t. I just can’t.”

With an easy grace, you leaned down, your breath hot against Hypnos’ mouth. And oh, how Hypnos wanted to lean in yet he couldn’t move.

“When I look at you, when you smile at me; Hypnos, it’s like coming home again.”

Hypnos knew it was coming but he still gasped against the press of your lips, his wings shuddering as you tipped his head up to deepen the kiss. It was so much better than any memory.

A hand cupped his cheek and he looked up at you unable to hide his tears. Your expression was soft and fond - and a little apologetic -as you smiled down at him. You looked so handsome in your military uniform. You promised to return to him the moment the war was over.

In the end, all he had left was a letter that spoke of your bravery and a folded flag.

Tears burned under his eyelids, Hypnos cupped your face between his hands, needing to feel you. He kept you close as the kiss continued between soft gasps and murmuring. His fingers trailed against your cheeks, feeling the start of rough stubbles along your jaw.

“Wait for me!” Hypnos called out, his birdlike wings on his back flapped in effort to keep with you. He was still too young to truly fly but he still chased after you anyway.

You laughed with pure joy, your wings casting shadows over the land as you returned. You dipped lower to grab his hands and lifted him up higher and higher.

In a singular moment, he was one with everything. His heart raced along yours, when you breathed in, he breathed out, two beings becoming whole and perfect once more.

His moral. His warrior. His dearest.

You didn’t wake even as Hypnos shifted, your head heavy on his thighs. Hypnos pushed your hair out your face, running his fingers through your locks.

That finally prompted you to wake just a little bit with a low hum. Your lips quirked up in a lazy smile. “Looks like I’m still dreaming.”

Hypnos scoffed, his heart overflowing as he leaned down to kiss you-

Then the kiss broke.

You pulled back, lips shiny and your eyes blown dark with lust, staring down at him. You panted harshly and Hypnos realized he was doing the same.

”Hypnos.” You said with a ragged and torn voice.

His heart stopped, sure that you were going to push him away. Only you didn’t.

“Hypnos.” You repeated brokenly, staring down at him. It was like you were seeing him, really seeing him for the first time.

The next kiss was just as amazing, he couldn’t tell where you and him began and ended. Memories rushed toward him, burning him along with the growing need deep in his core.

His hands roamed over your neck, shoulders and chest as he murmured your name over and over against your lips. You swore against his mouth.

Before he knew what was happening, you had silded your arms under him and lifted up and out of the chair with an ease he should have expected. You turned around and planted him on your desk, still kissing him, still touching him as you pushed him down onto his back.

Hypnos knew they should slow down, talk it out but he had missed you, craved you so much he didn't have it in him to stop if he wanted to. He felt starved until you touched him. His mating seasons had never felt like now, all gauzy heat and the hard, wonderful press of another body against his.

He was the personification of lust, of the euphoria that could be found in another.

Tangling his fingers in your hair, you and him kissed and kissed and kissed, hands caressing new flesh. Somehow it was new and familiar at the same time. The primal rhythm was built into their DNA, even now.

Hypnos tossed his head back, trying to breathe, trying to move with you as you consumed him, like the void of space swallowed countless stars. It was perfect, it was just you and him once more.

Everything ends, even this.

You buried your face in the crook of his neck and shoulder, your arms braced around his head as you tried to return to normal. There was a growing dampness against his neck. Hypnos blinked slowly up at the ceiling, still floating along the river of sensations and of returned memories.

He caressed the line of your back, pressed kisses against your scalp, his heart growing and love spilling out of him like new constellations as he murmured comforting words.

Later, you and him will speak of everything, of nothing and it will be good, it will be right. Because it will be what it always had been, you and him among the stars once more.

#wake me from this dreaming #hypnos x male!reader

14 notes · View notes

munsonslove · 1 year

Note

The amount of times I've re-read making deals and I waited all day is bordering on unhealthy. I get goosebumps every time it's insane! I'd really like to request some smut about Eddie finding out reader has had her nipples pierced. Reader's pretty much all healed up but very sensitive and finding it hard to stay quiet and keep it together the more Eddie fondles her after she lets him see and feel them for the first time. Bonus points if he's a tease about it too like maybe not exactly too rough with her but not exactly gentle either? he just wants to make a mess of her with his hands and mouth

Pierced

(18+ only)

a/n: sorry this took 7000 years i have no excuses. anyways thank you so much ily <3

summary: After getting your nipples pierced, you were anxious about being judged by the first person to see them. Thankfully, that person was your best friend who was ecstatic over them.

wordcount: 3.1k

tags/warnings: fem!sub!reader, softdom!Eddie, friends to lovers, smut, first times, nipple piercings, praise kink, degradation, cum eating/tasting, fingers in mouth, choking, hair pulling, p in v penetration, size kink, no use of y/n

For the first time ever, Eddie was speechless.

The day had started off like any other. You woke up much earlier than you would have preferred and sold your soul to capitalism for eight hours before heading off to the trailer park. Eddie gets home from school around the same time as your shift ends, and he would always immediately get to work rolling so that there’d be a joint ready by the time you pulled up. Since Wayne didn’t have work until later and wasn’t a fan of you two smoking inside, you ditched your tiny little car in favor of riding shotgun as Eddie drove his van to Skull Rock. That was when the unexpected happened.

As usual, he made his attraction toward you clear with his flirtations, and after so many years of a will-they-won’t-they relationship, you finally cracked. You’d been fighting this battle for far too long and decided that the risk of messing up the friendship you both built together was worth it for a chance at something more. Eddie was predictably stoked with your acceptance of his advances and things escalated very fast. Before you knew it, your back was pressed against cool stone and your shirt was crumpled up several feet away from you on the forest floor. Eddie pulled the cups of your bra down under your chest and made a move to kiss your now exposed breasts, but suddenly stopped, staring at them with wide awestruck eyes.

You were already aware of what caused this reaction, and you had been worried about it from the beginning. At the start of the year you’d gone through a rebellious streak that had resulted in several changes in your appearance. Dyed hair, new clothes, even a couple stick-and-poke tats that Eddie was more than thrilled to administer. But there was one change that everyone else in your life had been none the wiser to, and that was the piercings. You had seen models in porno mags and videos that had metal rods and rings adorning their nipples, and you’d always been so intrigued by the look. It struck you as liberating and powerful, feelings that you strived for after venturing off into the world of adulthood on your own. When you got them done you were single and not looking for any hookups, but you were still a little self conscious about coming off as slutty and being judged by the first person who got to see them. The idea of that person being Eddie kept you up at night on several occasions.

“Eddie?” you asked quietly, too nervous to speak any louder than a whisper but still desperate to break him from his trance, “You still with me?”

“You have nipple rings,” he said, stating the obvious with a stunned tone.

“Um… yeah. I do,” you responded. Your face felt warm despite the chilly evening air, and his unreadable expression did nothing to qualm your anxiety.

Finally, he looked back up and you felt the weight fall off your shoulders when he smiled wide. “You’re so fucking sexy. I think you’re trying to kill me.”

“I actually prefer you alive,” you laugh as you tuck a curly strand of hair behind one of his ears.

He doesn’t reply. Instead, he bends his neck to finish what he previously intended, and delicately places his tongue on your right nipple. He’s testing the waters, clearly unfamiliar with the feeling of metal being involved in this process, and he doesn’t want to be too rough right off the bat out of concern for your comfort. Once he realizes the punctures we’re no longer sore, he becomes more assertive with his licking, and you become louder with your moaning. Even though everything was healed, you’ve found that you’ve become much, much more sensitive after getting the piercings. Just the tiniest bit of teasing when you were alone at night- with only your thoughts of long haired, tattooed, metalheads keeping you company- was enough to have you on the edge of orgasming. You’re sure that if he tried, Eddie could make you cum this way, and the hint of a smirk between the valley of your breasts told you that he suspected this as well.

His lips leave your skin and look at you curiously as you tug at his hair, pulling him off of you and pushing yourself off of the stone. He watches as you reach behind yourself to unclasp the hooks of your bra. After he realizes what you’re doing, Eddie quickly assists you in sliding the straps down your arms and letting the bra fall to the ground by your shirt. The cold and hard surface of the rock shocks you when he pins you with his body and his lips attack yours hungrily. His hands knead the fat of your now naked chest, and every so often his fingertips will fiddle with the rings pierced through your nipples. You were so sensitive after the bout of teasing you’ve already endured that that alone had you close. And to make matters worse, in addition to his constant praises of ‘you have the most perfect tits ever’, Eddie’s rock hard cock was tenting in his jeans and rubbing against your thigh. You pushed the teetering threat of orgasm out of your mind and spoke aloud your desires.

“Eddie,” you whine, “I want you inside me. Now.”

His hands are shoving down your jeans in an instant- not even pausing to undo the button- as you futilely attempt to push off his jacket and yank his t-shirt up his torso at the same time. Once your pants were settled under the curve of your ass, he shrugged off his jacket and pulled off his shirt, tossing them both to the side. Then, he continued his mission of trying to get your legs bare. Kneeling down, he took your hands and placed them on his shoulders, instructing you to hold them for balance as he lifted the first foot up. Luckily your boot laces were only for show and there was a zipper on the side, so he is able to take them off pretty easily. The forest floor is uncomfortable to stand on with only socks, so Eddie lays the previously discarded leather flat on the earth under your feet as he finally unbuttons your jeans and slides them down your legs.

Eddie gets back up as you shake the denim off of your ankles, and he uses the sides of his feet to push down the back of his shoes and kick them off. His belt and jeans join the ever growing pile of clothes gathering beside you two, and after years of friendship and pining, you both stand before each other in only underwear. Soft lips meet your own once more before your body is spun around, easily controlled by his firm hold on your sides. Your feet are planted about two feet from the wall, and Eddie bent you forward with his palm between your shoulder blades until your cheek was pressed flat against the stone.

“Fuck, baby, you soaked right through your cute little panties,” he says as the pad of his thumb rubs down the damp crotch of your underwear before he tugs them down in one swift motion. “Waited so long for this, I’m gonna fuckin’ ruin you.”

His words have a heaviness settling in your chest, a mixture of excitement and nerves. The hand on your back loses contact as he steps away to rifle through his pants’ pockets, and he returns to his place behind you after finding what he was searching for. It’s hard to look back while bent over, but you can hear him moving, and the fabric of his boxers hit your ankles as they fall down his legs. The knowledge that he was completely nude and just a hair’s breadth away has your already leaking cunt weeping with even more arousal, and the mess accumulating between your thighs would be humiliating if you weren’t so turned on. You manage to get a glance of what was happening over your shoulder- Eddie sliding a condom down his achingly hard cock. It’s longer and thicker than anyone you’d been with before, enough so to rival most porn stars. Suddenly, his overconfidence in flirting with you makes complete sense. The sight of something that had been the star of many late night fantasies has your stomach fluttering in anticipation as you clench around nothing. His eyes lock with yours, and there’s a wild look in them. With the condom fully on, he smiles toothily at you one last time then steps forward and grips your waist with fervor.

The head of his cock runs up and down over your folds with the guidance of his hand around the shaft, and each time it hits your clit you let out an involuntary whimper. He starts poking at your hole lightly. Just little taps, trying to reduce you to begging- and it was working.

“Please, Eds,” you whine, voice high pitched and pathetically needy, “Please fuck me.”

He huffs out some laughter behind you, but there’s no amusement present. It was more of a ‘I can’t believe this is happening to me’ type of laugh. “Okay, sweets,” he says through a smile, “gonna give my girl what she needs.”

And with that, his cock finally breaches the threshold and buries itself deep in your cunt, surrounding itself with your burning hot walls. He enters you quickly, fully sheathing himself while still angling toward that sweet spot inside that would have you seeing stars. Pelvis now flush with the back of your thighs, Eddie is able bend over slightly and reach his mouth between your shoulder blades, and he happily starts leaving short little wet pecks all over your back. When his lips lose contact with your skin, his warm breath breezing over the saliva left behind from his messy love bites sends shivers down your spine.

“Are you ready?” he asks, almost deadly quiet. Only the fact that he was still pressed against you allowed you the capability of being able to hear him.

Truthfully, without the foreplay of his fingers stretching you out, a little extra time to get accustomed to his impressive size would have been helpful. Even though you knew this logically, physically you were unable to hold off any longer. Besides, you could feel how the head of his cock throbbed where it lingered not far from your cervix, so you could tell that Eddie was just as desperate for the inevitable mindless pleasure as you were.

“Yes!” you call out, your hands balling into fists. “Always ready for you, Eds. Now, please!”

He kisses you gently one last time at the very top of your back, using his delicate touch to softly brush the hair off of your neck for access. “Okay,” he whispers, “I got you now.”

After that, his hips started moving at a languid rhythm with his entire length pulling out almost completely before being sunk back inside you. It wasn’t enough, and you started grinding back against him. Leaning forward when he pulled out and slamming back when he thrusted in, trying to heighten the intensity as much as possible. Your efforts weren’t long lasting, however, as Eddie’s grown out fingernails almost broke skin on your waist when he grabbed you tightly and halted any movements beside his own.

“Uh-uh-uh,” he tutted mockingly as he continued his torturously slow pace. “Take what I give you like a good little slut.”

That snuffed out any complaints that were making their way out of your subconscious. Sickeningly sweet sighs passed through your lips as Eddie snaked his hand around your side to your front, the cool metal of his rings contrasting nicely with the warmth between your legs. Fingertips prodded teasingly at your engorged clit, the pad of his index finger tapping the center a few times then rubbing it slowly from side to side before pulling off. A string of your slick arousal connects him to your center before it breaks, and he raises his hand to your eyeline to show you the glistening mess you left behind. He made the ‘okay’ hand gesture before carefully flexing it into a finger gun, successfully stretching the glossy wetness he pulled from your center into taunt ropes that snapped and landed in the pinch of skin between his thumb and pointer. The visual evidence of the effect he had on you made your stomach flip. You'd like to claim it was due to embarrassment, but you knew all shame was smothered by lust.

His dirtied fingers run along your lower lip, and slide into your mouth when your jaw drops. The taste of you being so evident on him was fogging up your senses as his tendrils explored the inside of your mouth, dangerously teasing deeper toward your gag reflex. No pity was taken on your throat as he sunk further in, until you were coughing around him with drool pooling out of your mouth and down your chin. His hands leave your mouth, trailing dampness as they travel to your neck and take purchase there. This assists him in grinding against you as he impales you with his dick more forcibly than before. Low grunts steadily increasing in volume escape your throat rhythmically as your eyes roll into the back of your head. Speaking of your head, it falls forward when Eddie releases your neck, only to be yanked back upright by his fist tightening in your hair.

“Yeah, you like that, huh?” he boasts, smugness obvious even in his dirty talk. “Like being stuffed to the brim with my cock out here in the open? Where anyone could see what a desperate fucking whore you are?”

“Like it so much, baby,” you confirm between moans, “Fucking love it.”

“God, your tight little cunt is just sucking me in. Tell me how it feels,” he demands. There’s a stinging sensation when he uses his hold on your hair to twist your neck, turning it so that the side of your face would be visible.

“So good,” you answer, and- unable to say anything else- you repeat, “so good, so good, so good.”

“Come on, angelface. You can do better than that, can’t you? For me?” he cooed deceptively sweetly, “I wanna hear more about how good my perfect girl feels with her pussy being pumped full of me. Can you do that for me?”

Determination fills you, an eagerness to please your man that wasn’t entirely unfamiliar given how easily Eddie is able to force your submissive side out. You nod your head wildly before speaking.

“It’s amazing. You’re so fucking big, Eds. I can feel you everywhere.” The echo of your voice bouncing off the stone wall in front of you forces you to notice how erotic your words are. You sound absolutely lewd, but you can’t help it.

“Good girl,” he compliments with a hum. “A pretty thing like you deserves to cum all the time, deserves to never worry about a thing and just be used as a fucktoy over and over. You want that? For me to fuck you ‘til you cry for me to stop?”

“Yes, Eddie, oh my god. Want that so bad! Feels so good being used by you like this!” you wantonly call out, unable to control your yelling as the pressure inside you builds at an alarming rate and threatens to release. “Fuck, baby. I- I’m gonna cum! You’re gonna make me cum!”

The tugging at your hair ceases as his hand returns to your clit, circling it with as much focus as he can muster. His other hand abandons its position on your waist as it reaches forward to toy with the rings of your piercings and run the perky nubs between his fingers. Sharp teeth nip your back before his rough tongue soothes the sting.

“Cum for me,” he orders, growling. His speed circling your sensitive clit and pummeling into you remains unchanged, but his pinches become harsher on your nipples. “Cum all over my big cock like the naughty fucking slut you are. Soak me with your juices. Show me how much you love being filled up by me.”

“Love it so much!” you exclaim as the dam within you breaks, spiraling you headfirst into intense orgasmic relief.

Ripples of shock waves flow through your body, starting from your center and vibrating their way down each limb. The sounds of both of your moaning mix together like music as Eddie’s cock twitches inside you, releasing his seed into the condom. He’s relentless, keeping his fingers playing with you throughout the duration of your climax, riding it out for all its worth and overstimulating you. You’re split open one last time as he buries himself balls deep in you again and just holds there, allowing the two of you to catch your breaths. Mercy is taken when his fingers stop their motions and ease up on your sensitive clit and nipples, his arms now instead wrapping around you and tightening into a strong hug. Faintly, a small fraction of your brain recognizes the feather soft touches of his lips grazing your neck, but most of your mind is too far gone to really feel it. Eddie slowly pulls out of you with the most obscene squelching sound you’ve ever heard, and your face heats with embarrassment when you realize that mess was all yours considering he had worn a condom.

“I got you, baby,” he says airily while he helps you fight against your weakened composure and stand straight once more.

You turn to face him, your grip tight on his forearms as your knees threaten to give out with their buckling. Delicate caresses ghost over your cheekbone, soft as a butterfly landing, and the sensation impossibly covers your arms with even more goosebumps than the cool temperature of the evening already did. With eyes unfocused, you can’t actually see the lovesick expression Eddie is gracing you with, but the gesture alone fills you with the giddy elation of a schoolgirl as if he didn’t just fuck your brains out in the middle of the woods. He leans forward and kisses you passionately one last time, then ignores your lips following his when he pulls away in favor of speaking.

“Let’s get you dressed up so I can ride us back to mine,” he says, smiling at your attempts to reconnect your mouths. “It should be empty by now, and I’m not quite done with you yet.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things fanfic #stranger things smut

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mydemonsdrivealimo · 4 months

Text

Halloween (chapter 3)

Book: Open Heart

Chapter: 3/7

Character(s): Jensen Valentine

Rating: Teen

Words: 947

Chapter Summary: A glimpse at Jensen's med school graduation

A/N: sorry

Lyrics:

I'm leavin' this town and I'm changin' my address I know that you'll come if you want It's not Halloween, but the ghost you dressed up as Sure knows how to haunt, yes, it knows how to haunt

The loud sound of the tape ripping from the roll echoed across his apartment. He flattened it to the box, flipping it around and setting the tape to the side. In went yet another pile of clothes, perfectly folded and flattened to fit. He taped up the other side just as fast, grabbing the marker from the floor which was buried under a pile of bubble wrap and film from his bass, and quickly labeled the top and sides of the box.

Kicking it over with the others, he grabbed his glass off the table, half empty with some shitty, cheap whiskey and ginger ale. He continued to shove all the packing supplies into one corner. His former roommate was already gone, and he had to be out in two days, but keeping it clean was still easier than having to clean before his flight.

Everything he owned was packed away into a box besides one side-table’s worth of shit. He had space left in his suitcase for all of it, and the rest of the boxes would be dropped at the post office tomorrow. He only had a handful of them, namely filled with clothes and the few hobby-related items he kept, but any furniture or large items were sold.

It meant the apartment was mostly empty. There was that one side table that he was going to leave, and his bed was just a mattress in the middle of the floor now. Not that it was bad. Especially in comparison to some of his other living situations.

The only other thing in his room was his suitcase, which he rolled out to the open space that used to be the living room and kitchen. Stepping into the latter, he poured the rest of the soda and whiskey into his glass, mixing them around with one of the plastic butter knives left at the bottom of the former silverware drawer.

There had been a number of parties and events he was invited to for the night but turned them down. He had a one-way flight to Boston in two days, and had to ship all his belongings in one.

His phone had been blowing up with graduation pictures, family dinners, after parties, and announcements all night. Picking up his diploma from the table, nestled on top of his cap and gown, he carefully tucked it inside his suitcase. He used a few shirts to cushion it before zipping it up once again.

Only a couple hours ago he had received it. He waited through all the other announcements until he was finally free to leave, and he practically had to fight through the crowds to get there. There were so many parents, siblings, aunts, uncles, cousins, cousins of cousins, and more clustered in groups around the large arena.

He might’ve had some friends that would’ve been willing to go out with him to celebrate, but it was easier to go home and finish packing.

It was easier to say his isolation was necessary rather than involuntary.

Just like it had been four years ago, undergrad graduation, when he sent an invite over text that got ignored

Just like it had been eight years ago, high school graduation, when he was told, to his face, that she’d be there, and then he never saw her again.

And maybe she was part of the reason why he thought it was so easy to be alone. She’d given plenty of practice—plenty of fucking disappointments. Maybe he should’ve invited her, but he didn’t want to set himself up again.

Every fucking picture on his feed made him want to vomit. Or scream. Or maybe just forget it was happening at all. All his peers celebrating with their families, out for dinners and probably home for the weekend, too.

What a thought: home for the weekend. Did they get homesick? Did they miss the people waiting for them? Or did they not have a place to be homesick for? Did they even have people waiting at all?

Home for the fucking weekend. Maybe it wouldn’t sound so foreign if she had bothered to tell him where she moved to after taking off the minute he was out of her hands.

He had narrowed it down to somewhere on the west coast, given sporadic posts about family vacations—fucking family vacations.

She traded him out for a new set of kids and a husband that lived in some beach house mansion even though she never took him to the beach because she hated it.

But, you know, maybe it was just him, given how fast she ran away.

He put the phone down—maybe threw it—after blocking her account. Not for her sake, of course, but for his. For once, it was for him.

Standing up from the floor, he used the bottom of his shirt to wipe his nose and eyes. Not that he had really cried in over ten years, but anything close felt like some sort of success. Some sort of way to beat the “boys don’t cry” notion out of himself.

He would bet money that she never thought of him. Probably too worried about her new kids and her new perfect life and forgetting everything she left him with. Years of therapy, several failed medications, a sealed record, a public trial, the worst mental break of his life, a failed career as a musician, a high school graduation, bachelors, doctorate, accepted residency position, and a fucking partridge in a pear tree.

Maybe it was better like that, though. Finally letting the fuck go, finally acknowledging that some parasocial relationship stalking her Instagram posts wasn’t normal. Maybe it’d be easier.

tagging: @jerzwriter @cariantha @kyra75 @gutsfics @inlocusmads @choicesficwriterscreations

#jensen valentine #open heart #open heart mc #open heart fanfiction #choices open heart

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harrowharks-iliac-crest · 7 months

Text

As Yet Unsent

I’ve recovered from my initial relapse after gut alteration. My weight has levelled out. My captors’ procedures were conceptually primitive but sophisticated in execution. They have still failed to regrow my stomach or bowel, as they lack the basic techniques required to do so, but have outsourced their functions to apparatus outside my body for the interim.

As always, we start off the read with a healthy dose of Hey what the fuck????

The operation went ahead. Severe reflux required another landing in order to fix it. I was sedated for the majority of the time. Hect provided competent guidance. The ambient thanergy was thin. The corpse has still failed to rot. The princess says they are leaving it outside in significantly fluctuating temperatures, under observation, and it still fails to rot.

I have so many questions.

Why are they doing this to Judith??

And what corpse?

It's been a little while now since I finished Gideon the Ninth, so let me refer back to what the Emperor told Harrow in the epilogue -

“Who else beside me is alive, Lord?” “Ianthe Tridentarius,” said the Emperor, “minus one arm.” “The Sixth House cavalier was only injured when I left her,” said Harrowhark. “Where is she?” “We haven’t recovered any trace of her, or her body,” said the Emperor. “Nor that of Captain Deuteros of Trentham, nor of the Crown Princess of Ida.” “What?” “All the Houses will have questions tonight,” he said. “I can hardly blame them. I’m sorry, Harrow, we couldn’t recover your cavalier either.” Her brain listed sharply. “Gideon’s gone?” “Everyone else is accounted for,” he said.

Camilla, Judith and Coronabeth are alive, so if this is referring to any corpse taken from Canaan House, it's actually most likely to be Gideon Nav. What are they doing to my girl??? Studying how fast her body decays on an unfamiliar planet with "thin" thanergy??

Security anklet only, wired to a severe but not fatal electrical shock. Since my previous report they used it on her once, which hospitalised her for a week. Camilla Hect is in the process of being converted to their cause.

Oh yikes once more. Blood of Eden sure has some colourful torture/persuasion tactics. Camilla seemed pretty sold when they met Harrow, so this is presumably before then.

There is no way of softening this. Coronabeth Tridentarius has already been radicalised.

As I expected.

Are we going to get more info on what went down at Canaan House after Gideon died, but before Harrow and Ianthe were recovered by the Emperor?

To have Coronabeth Tridentarius near me in my suffering only hardened my heart. All the while she would tell me the things they had told her, as though she wanted me to argue her down. At first I tried. Then I realised she was just using me to sharpen her own reasoning.

Coronabeth, while being called stupid by Ianthe, is actually anything but. I mean, they're twins, so how could she be? Ianthe might be ahead of her, but that only means that comparing her to Corona is unfair. This girl is still cunning.

Hect maintains I am incorrect. Hect maintains that Coronabeth’s intervention kept us all alive, and that the princess deliberately put herself in harm’s way. What am I to believe? That the princess was and remains an innocent victim, or that the princess maintained the pose of innocence and has become a victim anyway? She sincerely believes that the Houses have done wrong, and worse, that they are being led incorrectly. The tips of her ears go pink when she is genuinely impassioned.

I mean, I feel like the Blood of Eden do have a point here, and it's not particularly hard to convince someone like Coronabeth of that. Judith is much more indoctrinated from the Houses' side, and Coronabeth is probably capable of holding the duality - sympathetic to the rebels' cause, and also trying her hardest to keep Judith and Camilla alive - the closest thing she has to friends in this situation.

The corpse is still as it ever was. I asked Hect if the scavengers had got at it. She said that animals refused to touch it even when encouraged.

Curious. Curious indeed. If this is really Gideon, then this is more points for her being, technically and biologically speaking, a fucking weirdo.

Could it be that Eden are using her body to keep tabs on Harrow?

I never experienced the physical vitiation that some necromancers suffer. The Second House’s signature thalergy transferral does not burn the necromancer’s tissue so viciously, especially in necromancers who enjoy more competency than genius. I could run a kilometre in ten minutes, which was among the fastest for my adept group in the junior reserves. Marta could run it in five.

A kilometre in ten minutes is still not particularly good. I can walk a kilometre in ten minutes. Judith isn't as frail as some necromancers, but still isn't particularly fit either.

Well, she was not that frail for a necromancer, before Eden decided, for some reason, to tear out and replace a large chunk of her digestive system. Which still begs the question of Hey what the fuck??

The princess sourced me paper, [...] The princess and Hect and I all agree we hate the texture.

An autistic mood. What's flimsy made out of, exactly? Non-organic materials of some sort?

She said, Do you have designs on Camilla? I said that romance was the furthest thing from my mind and should be the furthest thing from hers. I said that in such a febrile atmosphere it was for the best if we did not make any connections that Blood of Eden could exploit. The princess asked me if at any point blood had ever flowed in my veins or if it had always been graphite shavings. We had an argument.

A lot of arguments happening here between Coronabeth and Judith. Kinda yuri tbh. (Judith would hate me for saying so...)

I said it needed to be bathed in thanergy-enriched blood by at least three adepts and that the carvings needed to be kept clear of crusts or clots. I said one necromancer alone would not be able to use it as an anchor and that it needed to be energised on a thanergenic planet, so it would never be of any use to them. [...] Blood of Eden have a stele-capable ship. My only hope is that I am the only necromancer they have in their possession. I keep telling myself this has to be the case.

So a stele is a necromancy-powered engine of sorts, but it needs several necromancers to work (at least this one does). Interesting.

I think Judith is probably right that she's the only necromancer they have. If they were successful in keeping necromancer prisoners, if they'd managed to convert any or torture them into being useful, they would know more about necromantic ability and aptitude.

I said to Hect, I hadn’t actually read them as closely as I’d made out to the lieutenant, in that initial conversation. I had to go back and reread all of them in a hurry. Hect said, That’s the first human thing you’ve ever told me about yourself.

Cute.

I told her that when I was seventeen I was overwhelmed by the cavalier relationship. I told her that I hadn’t expected it to feel that way. I told her, using efficient and unsentimental language, that the love Lieutenant Dyas showed me as my cavalier—in all the ways she had made us one flesh—turned my head completely. I told her how deeply I had fallen for Marta Dyas as a woman, to the point where one evening I tried to make things different between us. At this point I tried to find the words with Camilla, honourable words, and Camilla Hect said: You propositioned her? I said, Yes. She was the age I am now; I was seventeen. I’d been secretly reading material . . . I was convinced . . . I thought it was a natural development, or at least, one nobody had to know about.

Oh Judith, I know the feeling. Who doesn't love a capable strong woman?

I said I, who had had a healthy relationship with my cavalier, was obliged to help others who hadn’t had my privileges. She said if that was the way I had put it to Camilla then I was lucky to be alive.

Corona is probably right there, Judith.

I have an internal infection. My gut fused correctly to whatever grisly artificial thing they put inside me, but I’m dying. [...] They won’t let Camilla Hect in to see me, whether or not she would want to, on the belief that she might try to give me antibiotics. They are letting the princess in reluctantly. She says the Edenite commander We Suffer is of the opinion that I should live no matter what, but she is faced with the opposite opinion from literally every other Blood of Eden soldier.

Interesting. Eden aren't a cohesive unit as much as a bunch of squabbling soldiers, bickering over whether they should let their captive necromancer die.

I hope she doesn't.

She said, Did you know? Every birthday we got to have one person we’d invite and our mother and father would get to invite the rest, and Ianthe always invited whoever Babs didn’t want to see at the time, and I always invited you.

How perfectly Ianthe. Though Corona's reasoning are not far off, honestly:

She said, It was always me. I had so much fun seeing you. You were the only person who acted like they had to get through the party for duty’s sake, and everyone else was there acting like they’d rather die than be anywhere else. Even your cav pretended she was having fun . . . But there you were, wearing your uniform, freezing me out. Perfect Captain Deuteros. Perfectly boring Judith Deuteros.

This is so funny. "Everyone else was having a great time but you never even had a facial expression. I wanted to study you under the microscope like a weird bug. I loved that."

Jody, you can’t die on me. I’m so alone now. I said, It’s been a long time since you called me that. She said, You won’t die on me, Jody. I won’t allow it.

Oh, the loneliness and grief of Coronabeth Tridentarius are so palpable here. I ache for her. I really hope her and Ianthe can meet again someday.

Someone said, You absolute idiots, she’s very nearly dead. It was not one of the voices of the other Blood of Edenites. It was new, and spoke perfectly accented House, pitched high. It was this voice that said, Who gets a toy they have been desperate for, then breaks it immediately? [...] Why are you people always such a curious mix of the competent and the completely deranged?! It never changes, and it never has changed!! I think they just clone you all out of the same vat!! Out of my way, you wretched, cack-handed children, and let me fix it.

No clues yet to who this is, except it kinda sounds like Mercymorn. Am I just hoping beyond hope?

I have been under the knife and lived through multiple necromantic processes, some of them internal. Nothing had ever been like what was done to me. My body was convulsed with paraesthesia. The voice said, Much nicer, much neater. This is how to do it.

No, that still sounds like Mercymorn.

Then the voice said, Now show me this wretched body. I don’t believe this story for a second. What you’ve done is accidentally kept it airtight . . .

PLEASE tell me more about the body.

And yeah, I'm positive now that this was Mercymorn, on a secret undercover colluding with the Blood of Eden mission, probably before picking up Harrowhark and the Emperor.

I wonder if they will stop the experiments now. The corpse of the Ninth House cavalier is as pristine as when Camilla Hect convinced them to take it on board. She never explained herself fully to me. Some business about a note.

It IS Gideon!! And there IS something fucky going on with her body. PLEASE keep telling me more, this is fascinating.

A note -?

Camilla convinced them to take her???

So she's presumably not being used to track Harrow somehow. Why would Camilla want to -

And why isn't she decomposing? I would LOVE to hear what Mercymorn had to say about that.

It is not a confession of temptation. I wasn’t tempted by Coronabeth’s offer. There was never any possibility of it. I committed the understandable crime of desire for Lieutenant Marta Dyas, having joined my hand to hers with the best and most pure of intentions. Why would I ever knowingly take Coronabeth Tridentarius’s, having desired her already for twelve long, stupid, fruitless years? And I said, Thank you for the offer, Your Highness, but not in this life or in any other.

Whoa, dropping that gay in there almost unexpectedly, right at the end.

Wow this was one hell of a ride!!! We learned a lot, and yet still sooooo many questions remain.

I think at some point between now and re-starting Gideon the Ninth, I will have to compile a little post on all the thoughts and updated theories I've had in my absence. I've been very distracted with other things, but still this story has been bouncing around in my brain and generating more interesting thoughts that I wanna share.

I guess I only have to decide whether to do that before, or after reading Doctor Sex!

#tlt liveblog #the locked tomb liveblog #tlt spoilers #the locked tomb #tlt #gideon the ninth #harrow the ninth #as yet unsent #harrow the ninth spoilers

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