#very much seemed like “heres a quick on the fly explanation for my knowledge without telling rhe truth”

[maedaze]

leighton murray you will always be trans coded to me .........................

#ms “im really good at hormone shots” #its ok................ #like her explanation being the fact that she “did her moms botox injections” does not!! make sense!! u cant just do that at home!!!!!!!!!!! #very much seemed like “heres a quick on the fly explanation for my knowledge without telling rhe truth” #she was horrified of the way being publicly gay would change who she is !!!!! #if people knew she was trans itd damage her chances of just being who she is. she'd be terrified that itd turn into all she is #/all headcanon #but #idk maybe im just evil and biased #not putting fandom tags on this. i fear my life. #cope with it #i love u leighton murray come home soon

[rheawritessometimes]

{ Childe x GN!Reader }

{ Summary } Childe gets an owie while sparing. Series Masterlist

{ Warnings } Violence, Swearing, Angry Reader, Injury, Physical Intimacy (Kissing).

{ Notes } Hurting Childe just a little because he refused to come home for me. Lost the 50/50. Reader is a sword user. Reader is suggested to be the Traveler. Self-indulgent again because all my writing is. This one is a real trainwreck but I didn't want to go too long without posting. Something better than nothing? Masterlist

{ Word Count } 2,404

Meeting Childe at the Golden House every week had been your routine for a while now. Right after you had defeated him the first time, he immediately begged you to train with him and you gave in, unable to bear those puppy-dog eyes. And the entire week he spent pestering you about it.

The whole fiasco with Osial had been put behind the both of you. It was probably true that you were too quick to forgive Childe, but he was just so charming. Not to mention he often paid for your meals, suggesting going out to eat after your sessions or if he saw you around the harbor. On a few occasions, you had been out eating with friends or on your own and found he had picked up your tab.

Since Liyue hadn't been destroyed and you got free food out of it, you really weren't all too upset about the situation. The Snezhnayan was actually pretty easy to get along with when Fatui matters weren't involved. He made you laugh too, so you supposed you could tolerate the once-weekly sparing sessions with him.

Childe called it sparing, but normal people didn't spar with actual weapons and fight like they were going to kill their partner. At first, you had tried to convince him it would be much better and safer for the both of you to use practice weapons instead of sharpened blades and arrows. He was quick to decline, saying something about both of you being competent enough not to get seriously hurt. You thought about refuting that on the basis that he had yet to beat you even once.

Even so, every week you found yourself pushing through the doors to the chamber Childe was always patiently waiting in. You'd never gotten there before him and wondered if he intentionally came early. You wouldn't be surprised if that was the case, he probably paced the room plotting his seemingly unobtainable victory.

The hydro vision paired with his combat experience and skill made him a difficult opponent, but he didn't seem terribly good at strategy. He might have been careless because it wasn't a real fight, but somehow you doubted that. He seemed the type to always give it his all. It could be that was his problem, since his loss usually came due to his exhaustion. Maybe if he didn't spend so much energy trying to show off he'd actually be a proper challenge.

"You're finally here," Childe proclaimed dramatically, voice echoing off the walls, "I thought you might have gotten lost on the way or something. Was starting to worry I'd need to go out and rescue you."

"I'm fifteen minutes early, Childe. How long have you been waiting?" you asked dryly, raising your eyebrow questioningly. You took a moment to shrug your adventuring pack off your shoulders and drop it near the door. You rolled your shoulders, relieved to be free of the weight.

"Ahah, anyways, we should get started. I have some business to attend to today," he responded, indiscreetly ignoring your question. It shouldn't have been very surprising that he didn't wait for your response before sending an arrow flying in your direction, but he'd always waited for you to signal you were ready before starting in the past.

Materializing your sword out of habit more than anything else, you raised it to block the arrow with the flat of the blade. The arrow bounced off the metal with a weak dink, clattering to the ground. If you'd reacted a moment later it would have pierced you.

You shot Childe a dirty look, irate from the cheap shot. He responded by grinning wider and taking aim again. You silently promised that he would face your wrath shortly.

Advancing towards him, you swatted the arrow flying your way with your sword. A bow would be less effective at close range, so you intended to close the distance. The redhead laughed, a hint of nervousness creeping into the sound at the pace of your advance. Or perhaps it was the building rage in your eyes.

The bow dematerialized, now Childe held dual hydro-blades in his hands in anticipation of close combat. Once in range, he immediately swiped at you with a blade. You stepped back out of the way, quickly bringing up your sword to parry the next slash coming from the opposite blade.

Childe seemed encouraged by you backing away, a smug look crossing his face. You furrowed your brows, he was so unthoughtful. He insists on using real weapons, shoots at you before you're ready, and now he has the audacity to get cocky.

You raise your blade to swing down at him and he catches your sword on crossed hydro-blades. He lets out a little huff of air, not expecting you to strike with such force, but his arms hold steady. You swiftly draw your blade back to slash at him again. Thorough training has you swiping at him with practiced ease while Childe is forced to switch to the defensive.

It gives you a sort of satisfaction to see his expression change to one of worry, it was your first time seeing such a look on him. You had no intention of actually hurting him, but it was nice to scare him a little. Maybe after this, he'd take the dangers of sparing with actual weapons a little more seriously. But probably not.

You're hardly thinking when his hydro-blades finally fail to parry your blows, the flat of your blade slamming into the side of his chest resulting in a soft crack barely loud enough to reach your ears. A look of surprise crosses your face when he lets out a pained grunt, what had happened finally being processed in your mind.

Immediately you drop your sword, ignoring it as it clatters to the ground before dematerializing. You were internally relieved to see his hydro-blades dissipate too, it would have been terribly unsportsmanly of him to stab you now. Stepping forward on instinct, you pause as you realize you're not exactly sure what to do.

Childe clutches his chest as he coughs a few times and a flood of panic washes over you. If you broke his ribs, his lungs could have been punctured. That would be bad.

"Fuck, that hurts," he huffed out before he attempted to gingerly sit down, right in the middle of the Golden House. Childe winced at the movement, but he managed to settle, leaning on his arms for support. His breathing was heavy from the strain of sparing and you felt extremely guilty, broken ribs had a tendency to hurt terribly and pain would flare up with every breath. At least he seemed to be breathing okay, so his lungs were probably intact.

"Let me get something to ease the pain," you said hastily, jogging towards the door to grab your bag. Your first thought was to numb him up before bringing him to Bubu Pharmacy to get some proper help.

"Aw, are you actually worried about me?" he cooed teasingly, maintaining that signature annoying grin despite the pain that followed him speaking. It was easy to ignore him as you rummaged through your bag for something useful.

It crossed your mind that it would be exceedingly difficult to get him all the way back to Liyue if you gave him anything strong. That limited your options rather greatly, adding that on to your lacking medical knowledge and limited variety of resources left you with fewer options than you would have liked. He probably could make it back without any anesthetic but it would be slow and you'd feel terrible for it.

Even with your lack of selection, you were thankful to have some knowledge and materials for this sort of thing, adventuring made you better at improvising and you learned a lot along the way. Taking everything into consideration, you decided it would be best to go with something topical. You could make a salve to numb up the area and then hopefully drag him to Bubu Pharmacy.

"I'm really sorry, Childe," you apologized, "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Oh don't worry about it, this isn't the first time I've broken my ribs. Probably won't be the last, either," he replied with a laugh, which caused him to wince. You only frowned at him as you pulled out some plants to grind up. A rock would have worked, but you kept a mortar and pestle for this kind of thing after realizing you'd be doing it often.

You were soon mashing some leaves and a few petals into a paste, with some water Childe so graciously provided. Having a hydro user around was rather convenient when practicing field medicine.

"Whatcha makin'?" Childe asks after a short period of silence, leaning over to get a closer look. You wonder if he's actually curious or if he just can't tolerate the quiet. It seemed the two of you were always talking when you were together, save for when your sparing got too intense to spare the breath.

"A salve to numb you up so I can drag you to Bubu Pharmacy," you responded, still mostly focused on getting the paste to the right consistency.

"What? No, I can't go. I've got work to do," he argued, moving to stand up now.

You were quick to grab his wrist to prevent him from getting up, furrowing your brows. Childe paused, waiting for your explanation.

"You have at least one broken rib, whatever you need to do can wait," you told him sternly, maintaining eye contact. He turned his gaze away from you to hum in contemplation. He knew well enough that giving injuries time to heal was important, but so was his job.

"Fine, I guess what I was supposed to do today isn't that important," he relented, leaning back into a comfortable position once more. Childe had a feeling that if he had insisted on working you'd have found a way to stop him anyway.

"Can you take off your shirt?" you asked, trying to sound as casual and not awkward as possible once you were satisfied with the consistency of the paste. You would have offered to allow him to apply it himself but you figured it would be less painful this way, plus you'd need to bandage his chest afterward, so it didn't make much of a difference.

"Oh my, you're not usually this bold," he teased, reaching to begin undoing the clasps holding his jacket together. His remark made you decide against offering your assistance despite the awareness that even just wriggling out of the jacket probably hurt. It's okay to be a little petty sometimes. As a treat.

Once his torso was bare you shifted your position to be a bit closer and examined his side. There was already the beginning of bruising, but it would get much darker by tomorrow. You ignored the scars and other bruises that were present, very aware of the fact the redhead would tease you for staring if you looked any longer.

"I promise I'll be gentle," you assured, "But it'll probably hurt a little."

Childe just hummed, waving off your warning, so you gathered some of the salve on your fingers. You silently wished you'd had gloves that weren't absorbent with you so your hands wouldn't grow numb later.

It was a quick process of spreading the paste over his ribs, but his eyes remained on you the entire time. You couldn't be sure if he was just interested in what you were doing, but it surprised you that he remained entirely silent.

"It'll take a little while to numb up. I'm going to bandage your chest for support. This will hurt more," you informed him, dragging your pack towards you to dig out a roll of bandages.

"Don't worry, I'm a tough boy," he laughed in response, and you could only smile and shake your head at him. You had faith in his strength, but that didn't stop the guilt you felt over being responsible for his pain. It did make you feel better when he started reminiscing on past injuries he'd sustained in battle once you began bandaging him. How he could look back on them so fondly was a mystery to you.

At first, you were mindful to touch him as little as possible while you were wrapping the bandages. They needed to be a little tight to provide support but you tried to ensure they put as little pressure on his ribs as possible. Unfortunately, your fingers started to grow numb and you hadn't realized you'd been bandaging too tightly until Childe let out a soft grunt of pain.

"Fuck, sorry," you apologized, quickly unraveling the last section of bandaging to rewrap it more loosely.

"Don't worry about it," he said, thinking for a moment before adding, "But, if you want to make it up to me, a kiss would make me feel better."

Pausing in your ministrations, you looked up to see a cheeky grin on his face. You raised a brow, giving him an entirely unimpressed expression. It wasn't entirely uncommon for him to flirt like this, trying to get a reaction out of you. But as you reached one hand up to gently grab his chin, it was his turn to become flustered.

Leaning up, you pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek before moving away and releasing your hold on him. You patted his cheek twice, giving him an amused grin.

"You're welcome."

"Hey! That doesn't count!" Childe immediately whined, pouting at you. You could only laugh at his playful antics as you finally finished wrapping his chest.

"You're cruel, you know that?" the Snezhnayan grumbled, eyebrows still furrowed as he continued to pout. He really did seem like a spoiled kid at this moment and you laughed again, causing his frown to deepen.

You knew his demeanor was all theatrical, but as you stared at his expression you found yourself leaning towards him again. You gently pressed your lips to his, smiling into the kiss when his hands eagerly flew up to your face. You indulged in the kiss for a few moments, smirking when he followed you as you pulled away. Putting a hand on his shoulder, you halted his attempt to continue.

"You can have another kiss once you get checked out at Bubu Pharmacy."

-

If you read all that, I'm sorry lol. I wanted to spend more time on it but I don't want to take too long posting things. Anyways, if you have any better ideas for what I should write send them in. Please.

There's a part two now: Part 2

#.rhea writes #.r let's make a deal #genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #childe x reader #genshin childe #childe #tartaglia #tartaglia x reader #genshin tartaglia #tartagalicious #taking my anger out on childe #but also simping for childe #fluff #is this fluff?

[travellingarmy]

║Zhongli║Family Outing

Requested from Wattpad.

Female reader as requested.

Fluff.

Word count: 2.3k

---

Even when it was just the two of you, you were expected to bring mora, so why would that change when there is an added person into the family?

"Mommy, Mommy! Look here, I finally tie it on my own!" A little rascal came running to your room with booming footsteps echoing down the hall, where you were still getting ready, showing you their poorly tied tie. You look over at the door and let a little chuckle before walking towards the smaller male who was quite the unique set of eyes and kneeling down to his level. "Wow, it looks good!" you praised, fixing the bowtie for him, earning a cute, little laugh from him.

The little rascal whose bowtie you were trying to fix was none other than your child, Qian. Qian was a unique child as he had features that normal humans don't have.

A second set of footsteps came echoing down the halls and stopped at your door. You look up and see your dearest husband, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed and an unshakeable smile on his lips as he stares at the two most precious beings in the world. "Not going to mention how I helped you, I see." The older male chuckles. Qian turns his head to look up at his father before looking back at you again. "Oh yeah! Daddy taught me how to tie it, hehe," the adorable, little boy adds.

You laugh at the added statement and stood up. "Alright, should we go now?" you ask to which both of the males nodded- one with excitement. "Oh, right, Qian, make sure you hide your horns." You look at the two sets of horns that rested on top of the little boy's head.

As said before, the reason why Qian is unique is that he was a mix of a mortal and god-- yours and Zhongli's.

"Oopsies! I didn't know." He quickly retracted his horns so that they were no longer visible. His eyes, however, remained the same glowing amber eyes just like his father's; a truly unique set of eyes that makes him differ from everyone else along with his hair, and also the fact that he had the same immortality as his father.

You walked over to the door where Zhongli wrapped an arm around your waist and gave you a quick kiss on the lips. "Ew, that's gross!" Qian covers his eyes with his hands as he said so, making both you and Zhongli laugh at the little action. "Can we go now? I want toys and books!"

"Alright, we can go now. Come, grab mommy's hand," you said and offer him a hand for him to hold onto. He uncovers his eyes and reaches for your hand, feeling the warmth from his tiny hands and fingers trying to cover most of it. Zhongli went to the other side of him and held his other hand and left the house.

"Mommy, mommy! Look at the doggies!" Qian points at the two dogs that watch the inner part of the bridge, giggling as the dogs wag their tails and walking closer to the young boy. He let go both of his hands from either of yours and Zhongli's grasp and went over to the dogs, ruffling their furs. You smiled before turning to your husband, "Can you watch over Qian while I buy a few things?" Not wanting to take Qian away from the dogs, you relied on Zhongli.

He nods and places a kiss on your head. "Of course," Zhongli says. On every outing, you would take this as a chance for grocery shopping. It was hard to keep the fridge at home full especially when you had a little tyke that sneaks into the kitchen for snacks.

Not wanting to overfill the fridge, you bought only the necessary things that you have fully noted down on a paper along with snacks for Qian. He- although has the same mindset as his father's and a bit of his knowledge- could be quite the handful when he doesn't get his snacks-- throwing tantrums when he wants things. But that was just how kids were and there is nothing else you could do to appease them.

"Mommy, where did you go?" Qian asks when you returned with a bag, still playing with the dogs. "Just went to buy food," you answered, smiling as Zhongli offers to take the bag from your hands. A gentleman, he was.

"What about snacks?" He leapt up excitedly, walking away from the dogs to clung onto your dress. "I wouldn't dare forget them," you replied, seeing his eyes light up happily, then hugging your legs. "You're the best, Mommy!" You rolled your eyes. "So, I'm the best when I buy you your snacks, huh?" you ask, feigning offence and pick him up to meet your eyes. He shakes his head frivolously and re-worded his words, "Mommy is the best even when she doesn't buy Qian snack!" He kisses your cheeks and you giggled.

"What about me?" Zhongli speaks up, pointing at himself as he waits in expectance. Giggling, Qian reaches out for his father who happily engulfed him in a warm hug. The little boy then places a kiss on Zhongli's cheek and smiled. "There! Daddy gets a kiss too, so don't be sulky anymore." Zhongli chuckles and places a kiss on his son's cheeks as well.

"Where would you like to go, Qian?" Zhongli asks, carrying him with one hand as he holds the bag with the other. "Toys!" he exclaims, eyes glimmering with stars. Chuckling, the three of you made your way to a toy shop where Zhongli put Qian down to roam the store, excitedly picking a lot of toys. "Qian, you can only pick two things, okay? You already have a lot back home," you reminded, sweat dropping.

"B, but Qian really likes them..!" He pouts, giving you his doll-like eyes as he pleads. It was something that he always does and was very effective. You felt an imaginary punch to your stomach, picturing your soon-to-be empty wallet, but you just didn't know how to say no to such a face. You cranked your head to your side, looking at your husband who stood idly by cluelessly, hinting him to help.

He notices your graved face and immediately understood and clears his throat. "Qian, mora, you see, may just be a materialistic thing that one can obtain, but obtaining it is much harder than you realize, so mortals always make note of things called prices that requires mora. By doing so, they can save extra mora for other needed things," he lectures, though it doesn't seem that Qian understood what his father told him.

"Mommy can go get more, right?" he asks, clearly not understanding what Zhongli had said. "Money shouldn't be thrown around carelessly, sweetie," you spoke, kneeling to his level and placing a hand on his shoulder, his bright eyes reflecting off of yours. "Okay.. But we can come back to buy them, right?" Qian asks, to which you nodded. "Then, Qian will pick these two! Mr. Cyclops is cool!"

You look at the toy in his hand, knowing that it was a very popular toy from Snezhnaya. The toy maker was also very popular amongst children, so it was understandable seeing Qian choosing the toy. You stood up and ruffled his head before turning to place a kiss on Zhongli's cheeks. "It wasn't the best explanation, but it did make him choose two," you say and walked off to pay for the toys.

"Mommy, mommy, I'm hungry!" Qian tugs on your hands after so much walking. "Well, it is the afternoon.. Where does Qian want to go?" you ask. "I want to eat where that fire-breathing teddy bear is!" he says almost immediately, showing his enthusiasm. "Ah, Wanmin Restaurant it is." You chuckled, knowing he meant Guoba.

"Hello, welcome to Wanmin Restaurant! Please, sit wherever you like!" Xiangling greets. Qian's smile grew wider when his eyes landed on the girl and ran up to her as you and Zhongli walked to an empty table. "Miss, can I see Mr. Fire-breathing Bear?" he asks, tugging her clothes. "Oh, of course, Qian!" the female giggles and takes Guoba out. On every outing, Wanmin Restaurant was one of the places Qian loves to go and that's because of Xiangling's Guoba. He would never go to another restaurant even when suggested.

Xiangling sat her bear on the extra seat around your table- right beside Qian- and look towards you and Zhongli. "Please, take your time to look over the menu! Oh, I've also added new dishes that children might like," Xiangling says enthusiastically before leaving the table to tend to other customers.

After choosing lunch, Xiangling makes off to the kitchen and leave the three of you plus Guoba to chat for a while. "Mr. Fire-breathing Bear is cute!" Qian states, touching the bear. "Mommy, can Qian have one too?" He turns to look at you.

"Ah.. Of course!" you say, giving him a close-eyed smile. It was a good thing that Guoba was behaving on order or else it could hurt someone.

"Here are your orders!" Xiangling returns as quickly as she went, the order in her hands and places it on the table. "And a little snack for little Qian!" she says. Qian giggles and thanked her before she excused herself once more, bringing her Guoba along.

After that, you just strolled around the city until sunset and eyed interesting things, making sure that neither Qian nor Zhongli went off on their own for things they've found an interest in. It was indeed fun, but it almost felt like you had to babysit Zhongli as well who almost always wanders around to buy things without preparing money with him.

"Mommy, how come Daddy isn't allowed to bring money with him?" Qian asks, running along the edge of the docks, pretending that his Mr. Cyclops can fly. Zhongli was certainly caught by surprise and a tint of pink was seen on his face as he forcefully coughs onto his fist-- most likely embarrassed for the reason. You snickered, eyeing the man from the side of your eyes before looking over to the little boy. "He is bad at managing money, so that is why mommy has them. And also because daddy always forgets to bring his money," you answered. "When he was courting me, I had to pay for most things to which he will pay by taking me out for dinner." It was only times that Zhongli can date onto a calendar, that he will remember to bring money. Other than that? Expect to bring your wallet.

"How did daddy manage to marry mommy like that?" he asks, surprised and draws his full attention to the two of you. "Well, daddy has other charms to look at. He's especially good in b--" Zhongli immediately covers your mouth, knowing full well of what you were about to say. "I would take whatever means necessary to marry your mother-- mora aside, of course," Zhongli states, hearing you laugh from beside him, though having a mouth over you.

You remove his hand to add on but was then cut off by putting a hand over your mouth. He laced his arm around your waist and draws you close before removing the hand and placing a kiss on your cheek. "I'm just kidding. You know I will never say that," you say, giggling at his attempt to shut you up.

"Ew, daddy is kissing mommy!" Qian spoke, drawing your attention to the young boy. "It was just a kiss on the cheek.." you say. "That is still kissing!" Qian defends.

You chuckled. "Alright, come here, Qian. It's time to go home and make dinner," you say, outstretching a hand for him to hold. He excitedly runs towards you and grabs hold of your free hand, your other being held by Zhongli.

After dinner, you all sat in the living room for some more family bonding time, Qian now presenting his horns as he plays with his new toys along with his old ones. But it didn't take long for the hours to pass before looking at the clock and decided that it was time for Qian to go to sleep.

"Alright, Qian, time to go to sleep," you say. "But I still want to play with Mr. Cyclops.." He pouts. "You can play with Mr. Cyclops tomorrow, okay? He won't leave," you assured. He was a bit reluctant, but soon allowed you to pick him up to bring him to his bedroom, Zhongli trailing behind.

You helped him change into sleepwear and tuck him nicely under the blanket, then turning on the lamp on his bedside table and turning off the light before returning to sit on the edge of his bed. "Good night, Qian. Let mommy and daddy see you in your dreams," you say softly and kiss his forehead. "Good night.. Mommy.." With that, his eyelids fell heavy, drifting him off to dream land.

You stood up and turn to look at the door, seeing Zhongli's eyes glowing much brighter in the dark room. One more look at Qian before you made your way to Zhongli who waited outside the hall, leaving the door slightly open as usual.

"I'm tired." You yawned, wiping a tired tear from the corner of one of your eyes. Zhongli chuckles lowly and caught you by surprise by picking you up, bridal style. "Then, it must be time for my dear to sleep as well," Zhongli says, smiling down at you as he walks to yours and his bedroom where he lies you down and crawling to the other side of the bed, getting underneath the blanket with you.

You muzzled into his chest, letting him wrap his strong arms around you closely and engulfing you in his warmth. "Good night, my dear." He kisses your forehead. You hummed, tired, and said, "Good night, my love."

---

#genshin zhongli #zhongli imagines #zhongli x reader #zhongli #genshin #genshin impact #genshin impact oneshots #female reader #x reader #fluff #zhongli fluff #genshin impact aether #lumine #genshin childe #genshin venti

[stellarcat52]

Timeless Blue Chapter Two

Okay so apparently I’m just gonna add this little bit to every chapter as a little authors note. So chapter two is here, and as I stop caring about what canonically is happening in whatever scene in writing, the more the style will reflect my normal writing style. On that note, does anyone care how much I deviate from the canon? Like change potentially important plot details aside? Cause uh... yeah I don’t have the greatest impulse control and might mix this with another Au I had in mind. Either way, I hope you enjoy.

Krel, Douxie, Claire, and a crystallized Jim free fall through the rift. Thanks to Douxie’s anti-gravity spells, no lasting damage aside from a crack in Jim’s crystalline savior was dealt.

Krel landed behind Douxie and beside Palchuck, barely being missed by Jim falling from the trees above a moment later.

“What happened?” Steve groaned from under Jim.

“Well,” Douxie started, “I just conjured and anti-gravity spell to slow our fall and keep us from dying. You’re welcome.”

“Douxie? Where is the flying castle?”

“Oh fuzz buckets.”

Knights in metal armor surround them, shouting and communicated within their own ranks.

“This means, we’re lost in time.”

“Time?! I know the geezer said the answers were in the past but time travel shouldn’t be technologically possible for any species yet!”

“What manor of sorcery is this?” A mounted knight demands.

Douxie reaches back and grabs Krel’s hand, “Don’t use your serrator, just follow my lead.” He whispers to the Akiridion, the message being conveyed to the other two as well. However, Steve freaking out did not help their case.

Douxie and Krel look up to see the Knight had taken off his helmet. “Sir Lancelot, um...”

“He’s so handsome..” Steve said, earning a questioning look from Krel and Claire before a sword was pointed at them.

“Wait! Aren’t you Merlin’s errand boy?” Lancelot’s sword crept closer to Douxie’s neck. “I hope you can explain why you are associating with a troll.” Lancelot points to Krel with his blade.

“Hey!”

“Apprentice, first of all, and Krel is not a troll.”

“He’s like an angel man.” Steve daydreams, leaning a little too much on Jim’s encasement. The green material shatters, waking him from his life-preserving sleep. “Woah!”

Douxie jumps up and away from Jim, Krel instinctively reaching for his serrator before remembering Douxie’s words.

“The devil-?”

As Lancelot leans back towards Jim, a red and black armored troll arm breaches the air.

“What? How did I-?”

“Jim! Are you okay?”

“Troll! Troll! To arms!”

Jim is met with two very different reactions, a hug from his girlfriend, and multiple swords being pointed at him.

Douxie starts to jump to protect Jim, a blue hand grabs the edge of his shirt too late to stop him. Douxie proceeds to try and convince Lancelot that Jim is a good troll, which is much harder to convince him of than Krel not being a troll at all.

“You will hang before the king for your insolence.”

====

Jim communes with Claire, Douxie, and his very reluctant cage-mate Krel to try and learn what’s going on before the group is brought before the king. Ending with a promise from Douxie that he’d explain everything once everyone was safe.

After a quick reminder to let Douxie handle this, introductions and explanations are due. Thankfully, Steve was more than happy to shut up once Krel reminded him there was no service in the dark ages and that if he said something wrong he wouldn’t be able to say bye to Aja.

“This is Claire of house Nuñez, and Steve of Palchuckia, a village idiot and uh knight in training.” Douxie starts, pointing to each person as he spoke, “and believe it or not, this is Prince Krel from house Tarron of Cantalupia.” Douxie cautiously opened the cage, bringing Krel out and implying Jim should stay there.

“I have not heard of Cantalupia.” Arthur watched every movement Krel made, from every step he took before standing behind Douxie to every subtle nerve driven shift in his weight.

“That’s to be expected. Before now-“ Douxie quickly gets cut off.

“I’ll have this supposed prince explain it to me.” Arthur snapped. “Explain why you are here, Prince Krel of Cantalupia.”

“Alright, well as the errand boy here explained, I am not a troll. I was cursed to appear like this and have been looking for a wizard to remove it. I would like to formerly request permission to stay here alongside my companions.” Krel gestured to Claire, and Steve, who were giving the Akiridion strange wide-eyed glances.

Arthur pointed Excalibur at the sunny patch in the middle of the floor. “Prove you are not a troll first. Step into the sunlight.”

Krel steps forwards, being followed by a pair of not-so-subtle knights every step until he stands in full daylight in front of the king. “I am no troll, or is this not enough to prove to you my story?”

Arthur’s tensions fade, his grip no longer iron on the hilt of Excalibur. “Alright.”

“Now that that is out of the way, I believe this beast deserves an explanation too, errand boy.” Lancelot pulled Jim out of the cage, forcing him to kneel in the shadows where everyone could see him. “He is most definitely not a cursed prince as your friend here seems to be.”

Douxie lets out a hissing breath, clearly not able to explain the troll. Thankfully, Arthur’s immediate rage was not aimed at anyone proven to not be a troll.

“A troll! I thought I made it very clear your kind is not welcome here when I banished you.”

“Don’t you mean betrayed?” Morgana steps out of the shadows, pushing her way into Arthur’s focus. “You gave the woods to enchanted creatures like these, would you break that vow?”

“These beasts care not of my vow. Especially not spies of Gunmar.”

“Stop calling me a beast!” Jim lunged forwards, held back by Lancelot and another knight. “Wait, Gunmar?”

“Uh, your highness,” Douxie coughs, “it’s good to see you again.”

“And who are you?”

“Hisirdoux, Merlin’s apprentice. I assure to you, he,” he gestures to Jim, “is no threat.”

“That is my judgement to make boy.” Arthur thunders.

Morgana lights up her hand, a ball of golden magic wandering as she speaks. “Trolls are born of magic, and you are of blood. How is their nature a crime?”

Krel had seen something like this before, the students standing up for him and Aja when Colonel Kubritz was looking for them in school.

“When they ravage our lands and take our loved ones from us? I made these laws to keep this fragile land together, and they will be abided.” Arthur shouted. “Leave the wood, the penalty is death. Bring this monster to the light.”

As Jim was carried to the light, protesting and claiming he wasn’t a troll, the entire group went to save him. Douxie attempting to reason with Arthur, Krel using his four arms to try and avoid being grabbed as well and prevent Jim from joining him under the sun, Steve starting to rush forwards but being cut off, and Claire protesting as she was grabbed just as quickly.

Everything happened too fast to understand. The shadows crept out of the corners and flooded where the light should be. In the corner of Krel’s eyes, Claire seemed to have blackened sclera until the light was gone, and the future Trollhunter was safe. Arthur, of course, blamed Morgana, who seemed to be the only person who wasn’t from the 21st century to realize it wasn’t her who had done this. Claire defended her boyfriend, claiming his innocence even if he was a troll.

“Evil is not inherited, it does not corrupt one species more than another. Claire is right to believe a troll, despite how evil you believe them, can be good.” The Extraterrestrial spoke.

“That means nothing Prince. This is my kingdom and I shall not fail it. These beasts are still dangerous, we are still at war."

“If you give into your fear, that is failing.”

“The girl and the prince speak truth. Please listen to them brother.”

Krel gives Douxie a questioning look, not seeing the family resemblance. Douxie shrugs, nodding but understanding where Krel was coming from.

“Fine.” Arthur decided. “I will show the troll mercy. He will live... in the dungeon.”

“Jim!” Claire attempts to follow as he is taken to the dungeon, being stopped and comforted by Douxie.

“As for you, Hisirdoux, shouldn’t you be with Merlin?”

“Well, yes, but you see...” Douxie raked his mind for something to say “I was-“

“I apologize, your highness, but Hisirdoux was busy attempting to help me. I have communicated with him and he intends to help me get back into my original body. If it is impossible, I’ll understand, however. While we are here, if I appear human or not, I do believe my friends and I can help with this war that Hisirdoux has mentioned before.” Krel flares at Douxie as this war had not been mentioned before, who in response glares back as the Akiridion had just interrupted him. “In my country, I am known for my intellect, and I do not wish to take from someone without returning something.”

“So in exchange for me helping him and his curse, he, Claire, and Steve, will help us in the war.” Douxie summarized, not entirely sure if Krel is capable of getting his point through with his sudden usage of fancier tongue.

“Alright. Sir Steve will work with the knights, Prince Krel I believe should work with you, Hisirdoux, and as for mistress Claire?”

“I will take her. I’ve been in need of a new handmaiden.” Krel sees the pleas of help and burning anger in Claire’s eyes as Morgana steps up for her.

“Alright. Now go, I have a kingdom to protect.” Arthur ushered them away.

“Okay Krel what was that?” Steve hissed before the separated, the threat of not seeing Aja again still holding its effect. “Last I checked, you didn’t act like a prince much.”

“Theater practice at school.” Claire starts. “Krel has gotten very good at improv.”

“You are in the play?” Steve was astonished.

“Yes, while you have been too busy complaining about Eli and Aja going to Akiridion-5, I was increasing my knowledge on human culture, of the present and the past, or would it be the future and the present.”

“It doesn’t matter. Krel, you did amazing. I was here during this time and I still wasn’t as fast as you to know what to say!”

“Did you just say you were-are here?” Krel asked.

“Oh fuzz buckets.”

The group separates, although partially unwillingly. Steve goes with Sir Lancelot, Claire with Lady Morgana, and Krel with a very nervous Douxie.

Part one Part three

#timeless blue fic #krel x douxie #drel #krelxie #douxel #krouxie #toa wizards #tales of arcadia #KREL JOINS THE PLAY AND HE LOVES IT

[jaeheewillalwaysbemyfav]

Hello if you're not comfortable doing this please ignore - but how would the brothers from obey me react if they found mc self harming?

CW: Mention and discussion of self harm.

Heads up: I’m not an Expert on this - I know a bit about what it’s like, but let’s just say it’s not the typical horizontal scars (or even super visible longterm at all), so I don’t know much about things like that. Nor do I know what the proper protocol is if you find someone self-harming, so please don’t take this as any kind of advice. (Plus even if I knew Exactly what it is you’re supposed to do, this is the brothers’ reactions: they’re not gonna be experts either, certainly not on the fly with someone so close to them)

I repeat: I’m not an expert and this should not be taken as advice.

If you’re struggling with self harm or suicidal ideation, please consider taking a look at some of these websites/numbers.

I know it can be rough, but trust me, the pros of staying here and taking care of yourself outweigh the cons.

Obey Me: The Brothers Find MC Self Harming

Lucifer

Protective Older Brother Mode™ Engaged. His more immediate concern is stopping them from continuing, especially if it looks like they’re at risk of dying or seriously damaging themself. Any lighter/blade/etc. is getting taken out of their hands asap. He might hurt them a little bit if they resist, more from the sheer difference in strength than anything else.

Next step is cleaning and bandaging any wounds they have. His first instinct is the bathroom, but if they (quite understandably) don’t want to walk around the House of Lamentation with their self-harm injuries out, he’ll go get them and bring them back to their room (keeping whatever implement they were using on him, of course).

Despite his initial urgency, he’s very careful when dressing their injuries. Once that’s taken care of, he’ll ask them point-blank why they were doing what they were doing. He’s not stupid, he knows they were self-harming the second he found them, but he wants to hear their explanation.

Whether or not they tell him, he’s still tense like a live wire is running through him: he’s used to his brothers getting hurt because of recklessness or war injuries rip, but someone deliberately hurting themselves for no apparent reason is a little out of his wheelhouse. He doesn’t want to upset the MC further, but he also can’t allow this behaviour to continue.

In the end, the two reach a compromise: whenever they feel like hurting themself, they’ll let him know, and he’ll keep them company and try and take their mind off it until the urge passes.

And if they relapse, he’ll help them with tending to the wounds.

Mammon

Mammon’s… probably one of the worst to catch MC self-harming tbh, in terms of keeping his cool. In the panic of seeing blood or burns, he might not even connect the dots right away and think they’d been attacked by something. But if he sees the MC holding what they’ve been using to hurt themselves…

It’s like a bucket of cold water was dropped on him. He’s horrified, he’s furious - not with them, but in a more cosmic sense that being powerless can cause - he’s yelling; what are you doing, how could you, how long, how did he not notice how his human was feeling-?!

He suddenly pulls the MC in for a hug, and they can feel his tears on their back. Every single time he’s called them a stupid, weak human is running through his mind like a sick movie, and there’s a part of him that thinks it’s his fault that MC feels so terribly about themself that they’d do this.

He’s not good at first aid, but by god (or Diavolo, I guess?) he tries to wrap up MC’s wounds. It doesn’t help that he’s still quite shaky, but in the end they have a thick, sloppily wrapped layer of gauze on their injuries.

For a little while after, he’ll be even more clingy than usual, refusing to leave the MC’s side unless absolutely necessary. If the attention is suffocating, they’ll have to let him know, and reassure him that they won’t hurt themself while he’s gone for it to subside even a little bit. His tsundere act drops a fair bit too. He’ll still boast about being the GREAT Mammon, but any digs at them are extremely rare and even more tentative (they’d have to have another chat with him if this difference in treatment bothered them).

If the MC wanted to keep it a secret from the other brothers, Mammon would try and respect that, but he’ll inevitably ask one of them for help and they’ll figure out something is up pretty quick. Maybe not with MC specifically, but there is a strong suspicion. If they did figure it out, he’d make them swear not to tell MC or treat them differently: he doesn’t want them to feel worse.

Leviathan

Levi is no stranger to issues of self-esteem, but this is another level for him. He’d kind of freeze on the spot for a moment, unsure of what to do; social skills aren’t his forte in the best of circumstances and this… even if he wasn’t a shut-in, he’s not sure how he’d handle this.

He squeaked out the MC’s name when he first entered their room, and they’re now locked in a grim staring contest. If they don’t move or say anything, he’ll slowly close the door and approach them. If they flinch away, he’ll cringe and briefly panic, but steel himself and stick around. MC’s his best friend, and they need him right now.

Hey… he says. It’s okay… Well, it’s actually super extremely not okay, but I’m not mad or anything, you know? Pause. I… I never thought someone like you would do this. You’re so brave, and cool, and smart, and… you see something in a yucky otaku like me. You helped me be - you’re my best friend, alright? You’re an amazing, strong person, and don’t you forget it!

The Avatar of Envy knows that emotions can make one do irrational things, and he wants MC to know that he doesn’t think any less of them for this. When they’re all bandaged up, he pulls out a roll of TSL or Ruri-chan themed stickers and practically covers MC’s dressings in them. Then he does the same to himself, so if anyone sees and asks about it, he’ll say it’s just a friend thing they did together.

Levi still has a tendency to stay in his room more often than not, but now makes a point to check up on MC every so often, usually when they get home from school or at night. If they seem down or tell him they’re having thoughts of hurting themself again, he’ll invite them to play a no-stress game with him or watch some lighthearted anime. He’ll also avoid anything that could trigger you in your normal binge-watching sessions.

Satan

Satan doesn’t trust himself to move or even speak when he finds MC self-harming. He’s scared; scared that they’ll go too far, scared that he’ll say the wrong thing, scared that he’ll hurt them further if he slips up and snaps at them, scared to move.

Move, he thinks to himself, do something.

Without a word, he goes and grabs some first aid supplies. If anyone asks him what he’s doing or tries to bother him about something else, he’ll snap at them; he’s frazzled enough that he might even slip into his demon form.

This will sting, but it’s a good disinfectant. Good, focus on what he’s doing. It’s concrete, he knows this. Once MC is taken care of, he reluctantly asks them how long they’ve been doing this. Where they keep their supplies. How often.

He won’t ask why. He knows how it feels to want to destroy something so much you’ll turn on yourself.

If they’re comfortable with it, he’ll do everything he can to help. Harm reduction methods, finding alternative activities, keep MC distracted when they’re not feeling well, help them “ride the wave” (where whenever you feel the urge to self harm, you stop and wait 15 minutes - if you still feel that way, wait another 15, until it passes), anything to help them. Either way, he’s reading up on all he can about self-harm and how to help someone struggling with it.

He’ll do a lot of the alternate activities with MC so they don’t feel weird about doing it alone. Asmo once asked them what the hell they were doing holding ice cubes in their mouths and Satan’s response was to spit his out at his brother at a velocity that left a dent in the wall. He’ll also ask if they want to join him on his walks.

Also, because you’ll take the headcanon that Satan volunteers at the devildom equivalent of the SPCA out of my cold, dead hands, pet therapy! Provided MC isn’t allergic/doesn’t have an issue with cats, he’ll invite them to come with him and meet and pet the cats. It’s very hard to feel any sort of negative emotion when surrounded by cats, after all.

Asmodeus

Oh. This is why MC was so reluctant to let him dress them up.

Asmo has enough self esteem to rival the entirety of Hollywood’s divas, but he loves MC just as much, if not more, than himself. It breaks his heart to know that they don’t feel the same way about themselves.

He can’t charm them, but that doesn’t stop him from gently trying to coax them to put down the implement they’re using to hurt themself. Once he has it, he goes to get first aid supplies. MC hears a particularly loud THUNK as something is whipped into the garbage with uncharacteristic aggression.

Asmo will carefully and gently patch them up, finishing his handiwork with soft kisses on top of everywhere that was injured. He wants MC to know that they’re loved, and important, and that this doesn’t change any of that.

If they have scars that they want to cover up, he’ll at first encourage them to be proud of their battle scars, but if they really don’t want others to see them, he’ll create a whole new wardrobe for MC that is both stylish and covers up what they’d like to keep hidden. He almost certainly has knowledge of and access to all sorts of skincare products that can help scars heal and fade, if MC would like that.

For every time he has something nice to say about himself, he will say something nice about MC too. In fact, MC will find that Asmo is always offering them spa trips, to come to this or that party, to check out the latest sale at Majolish... If ever they need something to distract them, Asmo is there.

They’ll find little notes in elegant cursive hidden all over their room. Sometimes they’re compliments, or flirty puns related to where the note is. Other times they’re gentle reminders -messages like don’t forget to take your medicine! and stay hydrated for you and your skin! line the bathroom mirror.

One way or another, Asmo won’t let MC forget that even if they don’t feel good about themself, someone else sure does.

Beelzebub

Beel already has a history with losing loved ones, and like Lucifer, panics a bit upon finding MC self-harming. He’ll quickly get rid of whatever it is they’re using to hurt themself, and MC will have a hard time trying to stop him. Expect lots of tears and hugs as he helps them get cleaned up.

He asks MC why they’d ever want to do that to themself. Do they not want to live? Do they think no one would care? Because Beel absolutely cares and very much wants them to live.

MC has now acquired one (1) Self-Care-Maintenance Demon. Beelzebub refuses to let them neglect themself in any way: no skipping meals, no missing schoolwork, no time for downward spirals, Beel will help however he can to keep MC on top of things. Even if it means going hungry for a while, he can’t really eat anything until he’s sure they’re okay.

This isn’t to say that Beel is some sort of drill sergeant, not by any means. If MC is too bogged down to handle something, he’ll either take care of it, or help them find some sort of work around. His goal is to minimize their distress, so they don’t feel like doing that ever again.

He’s not totally naive though: he understands that these things don’t go away in a day. Whenever MC feels the urge to harm themselves, Beel is there: is MC up for a workout? How about popping by Hell’s Kitchen with him? Do they... can he hug them?

Basically, he wants to ease their pain however he can. He’s lost people before, and he refuses to do so again, not if he can help it.

Belphegor

Belphie is no stranger to self-harm, though his is more in the form of neglect. He feels like he doesn’t deserve those things, so why bother? Seeing MC self-harming though... it’s a wake-up call for the Avatar of Sloth. They both can’t keep doing this.

Honestly, the two become a bit of a mess for a while. Belphie wants to help them and make sure they’re okay, so much so that he starts overworking himself without regard for his own wellbeing, which makes MC feel guilty, so they overwork to help him, but this aggravates their symptoms, which upsets Belphie because he’s trying to help and it’s not working! - and they both end up an exhausted, sobbing mess on the floor, cry-yelling at each other to stop being so stubborn and just let me help you!

At that, Belphegor starts laughing. We’re really bad at this... he says with a sardonic smile. If MC is the type, they may start laughing with him.

From there, the two decide to make a pact (no, not that kind): they will work together to both help themselves, and each other. No mutually assured exhaustion, no destructive cycles of overworking, just support and stumbling into becoming functional together.

MC helps keep Belphegor awake during classes, and Belphegor makes sure MC sleeps through the night. They have their meals together. If one of them is feeling down, the other one is there to comfort them. This involves a lot of game nights with Beel, and of course the healing power of naps, Belphie’s version of the fifteen minute rule.

If MC is really struggling, Belphie will take them up to the planetarium and arrange a game: if they can name all the constellations in the sky in 20 minutes, he won’t stop them from getting their lighter/blade/etc. Regardless of how many MC manages to name, he always says they missed some, even if he makes them up.

You forgot Faustus Minor.

You’re making that one up!

Nope. Iblis’ Tunic too. Guess you’re stuck for another 20 minutes of cuddles.

(I hope this is satisfactory!)

#Anonymous #obey me #obey me headcanon #cw: self harm #self harm tw #lucifer #mammon #leviathan #satan #asmodeus #beelzebub #belphegor #if they seem wildly different from each other in terms of what i cover #it's because i wrote them at different times #so i apologize for the lack of consistency #mine #my writing

[reyescarlos]

from the bottom i come running

co-written with @bilbobagglns in celebration of @starlightbuck‘s birthday. we love you so much, nicole! so much so that we dared to try our hand at writing a soccer fic just for you! happy birthday, lovebug!! 💕💜

read on ao3

It’s not that Eddie doesn’t like soccer, but he doesn’t really care for it.

So when he is asked if he wants to try out for a charity team of first responders, he declines with a smile. He is busy as it is without needing to add training on top of all his responsibilities. Also, truth be told, soccer rules don’t make much sense to him.

Baseball now! That’s his sport and he could rattle about it for hours, enough to put Mr. Trivia himself to shame. Speaking of which, of course Evan Buckley tried for the team and, of course, he made the cut.

That’s how Eddie finds himself in Oregon ready to cheer his friend on.

“Do you think Buck is going to like my sign?”

Christopher has worked hard on it – it’s painted in every color he had and he even insisted on glitter.

“It’s to cheer him on, Dad. It has to be colorful!”

“I know he’s gonna love it, bud.”

It’s the truth. Anything that Christopher will do, Buck will love. It’s as simple as that and this does nothing to Eddie’s heart, no. It’s not like Buck’s love for his kid, true and pure and unconditional, makes Eddie long for a life together with the three of them as a family.

(Well it does, but he will keep denying it.)

“Hi, is this seat taken?”

A man with kind eyes and a bright smile is pointing at the seat right next to Eddie.

“No, you can take it, no problem.”

“Thanks,” the stranger replies and extends his hand after sitting down. “I’m TK.”

“Eddie,” he replies, shaking his hand.

“Hi, I’m Christopher,” his son says and Eddie is bursting with pride and amusement as he reaches to take TK’s hand as well.

“Pleased to meet you, Christopher,” TK says easily. “That’s a beautiful sign you got there.”

Chris beams at the praise, his cheeks turning red but he holds TK’s gaze anyway.

“It’s for Buck,” he tells him like it explains everything, and to him, it does.

“He’s on the Purple Team,” Eddie reveals. “We’re all here to cheer on him.”

“And see him make a fool of himself hopefully.”

At the comment, Chris whirls to give Chim quite the impressive stare and in that moment he looks so much like his mother than it makes Eddie breath catch in his throat.

“He’s going to win,” Christopher announces, sure of himself like he would be of the sun rising in the morning. “Just you wait.”

“Don’t worry, Chris,” Hen intervenes with a gentle smile. “He’s just teasing.”

Seeming to accept the explanation, Chris gives Chim another warning look before turning back to the field, waiting for the players to come out and start the game.

“So your Buck,” TK says, “he’s on the Purple Team? So’s my boyfriend. His name is Carlos.”

“Oh, he’s a firefighter too?”

But TK shakes his head, “I am, he’s a cop.”

“That’s great. We’re all firefighters here, Buck too.”

“We’re not all firefighters here,” Athena cuts in.

Eddie laughs, “Yes, sorry. Athena here is a police officer.”

They talk about their stations, crazy calls they have encountered and TK fits in seamlessly with the big rowdy group that has become Eddie’s family of choice. They learn TK has come by himself to root for his boyfriend and that they both of them live in Texas, which in turn makes Eddie talk about El Paso and his time there.

Should they ever find themselves in Los Angeles, invitations have already been offered to TK, and by extension Carlos though they have yet to meet him, but if he proves to be as delightful as TK, there should be no reason not to enjoy his company as well.

“You’ll have to explain the rules to me,” TK fake whispers with good humor. “I only know they’re kicking after a ball and it’s supposed to get in the goal over there. That’s it.”

“Oh, I don’t really understand soccer. I’m only here for Buck.”

TK laughs freely at Eddie’s comment and then adds, tongue in cheek, “Well, aren’t we a pair? Two soccer novices cheering their boyfriends on?”

Behind them, Chim bursts out laughing and Hen almost chokes on her drink with her lour snickering. Meanwhile Eddie – Eddie is just frozen.

“I don’t,” he splutters at last and it takes him several tries to get a proper sentence out. “Buck and I aren’t dating.”

Frowning in confusion, TK glances at Eddie, then Chris who is still holding tight onto his Go Buck! sign, and Buck himself before settling his gaze on Eddie again.

“Oh,” is all he says, sounding like he is biting his tongue not to say more.

“They’re still in denial, don’t worry about it,” Chim intervenes and Eddie does not have to turn around to know that he is wearing a very satisfied smirk. “You get used to the pining.”

“No one is pining,” Eddie lies, quite well if he’d say so himself.

He knows very well that one person is in fact himself and it is not Buck, no matter how hard he wishes his feelings were returned.

“Keep telling yourself that, buddy,” Hen says, “and then one day you’ll finally get your head out of you as – butt and pull us all out of our misery.”

She catches herself before she swears but it doesn’t escape May who hides her laughing behind her hand. Hen winks at her before laughing too. Nia, in her mother’s arms, joins in the laughter just for the love of it.

“Come on,” Athena chimes in, trying to look stern but Eddie knows her well enough to see she is amused as the rest of the team. “Leave the poor man alone.”

TK’s eyes alight with restrained laughter when Eddie turns back to him, offering him a contrite smile.

Before anyone can embarrass him any further, the two soccer teams enter the field and the crowd screams out in excitement – Christopher being the loudest of them all.

Buck waves at them, a huge smile on his lips, his eyes alight even with the distance. Eddie’s heart soars with love.

The match starts and Eddie can only cheer with the rest of the crowd.

~*~*~

TK breathes in the fresh air, hoping that it’ll be enough to flush out the nervousness he feels in the pit of his stomach. Soccer may not be his area of expertise but each time he comes to watch Carlos out on the field for a match, he feels invested. A part of him is out there on the green. Even from such a great distance he can tell Carlos is having fun with this. He’s in his element, his strong legs all but making him a blur as he races down the field toward the goal post. It’s a marvel, truly, to watch Carlos in complete control of himself and the ball. For the life of him TK can’t understand how any of the players manage to do this with such ease. But there’s something just so special about Carlos in particular— though, TK realizes, that may just be his bias talking.

Though this game is hardly the World Cup, TK can’t help but to feel the pressure build within him, his knuckle turning white from how tightly he’s gripping the sign in his hand. It’s not nearly as colorful as Chris’ beside him but TK couldn’t resist getting into the spirit, donning a purple hoodie as well. He wishes Michelle or his father could be here now but TK has enough energy for everyone back home and then some.

“That’s Carlos,” he points out to Eddie and Chris.

TK eyes his boyfriend in his shorts, feeling his cheeks flush for a moment. He’s glad for the crisp autumn air to disguise it.

“Hey, he’s with Buck! Maybe they’re friends already,” Chris notes as the two guys exchange a quick low five after Buck makes an impressive block.

“That’d be awesome.”

TK grows quiet then, the players really pick up with intensity out on the pitch. He may be surrounded by people in the stands but his attention rests solely on the field before him, his eyes tracking Carlos’ every move.

Despite Carlos’ best efforts to get TK to understand the nuances of the game, TK’s knowledge is still rudimentary at best but it’s enough for him to know that his boyfriend is doing amazingly well out there. Carlos and Buck work seamlessly off each other as if they’re tuned into the same frequency.

TK breaks his attention away to smile over at Chris and Eddie, the two just as absorbed in the match as he’s been this whole time.

“Crazy, isn’t it?” he muses aloud.

“It’s like they’re flying,” Chris replies, eyes bright behind his glasses. TK can’t help but to agree as Buck and Carlos go thundering up the field.

Even though Buck’s maneuver is thwarted by the other team’s player, there’s no question that the man is extremely skilled as well.

TK’s eyes move over to Eddie who doesn’t seem to have heard any of the exchange TK has just had with his son. Eddie’s eyes are unmoving from the field and it’s obvious there’s only one person he’s truly paying attention to out there.

Despite what the man may have been willing to admit aloud or even to himself, TK can see Eddie’s affection for Buck clear as day on his face. Granted, he’s just a stranger but even from their brief conversation on the matter, he could discern a lot. As far as he could tell, Eddie didn’t have to worry. Chris was clearly a huge supporter of Buck, perhaps in more ways than one and Eddie’s crew seemed to be more than on board with the idea of them. All Eddie would have to do was be brave enough to say something but TK knew just how hard that could be.

Getting together with Carlos and letting go of his own fears was easier said than done but it landed him in the best, most meaningful relationship of his life. Now isn’t the time to have such a heart to heart and TK wonders if the man would even want to hear what he has to say on the matter. He’s an outsider but TK feels a kinship to him all the same. All he can do is hope that Eddie and Buck find their way to each other. If everyone can find the kind of happiness he’s found with Carlos, TK figures the world would be a better place.

TK feels his phone buzz inside his hoodie’s pocket. He sets his sign down and retrieves it, smiling at the screen when he sees an incoming FaceTime call from his father. He answers, his screen filling up with his dad’s face as he connects to his earbuds. He can see that he’s inside his office back at the 126, undoubtedly sitting before a mountain of paperwork.

“Hey, kid. How’s the match going?” Owen asks, not wasting any time in trying to see how Carlos is doing so far.

“Neither team has scored yet but Carlos is killing it out there, of course.”

TK flips the camera on his phone so his father can watch a bit of the match as well. The timing is perfect as Carlos is now in possession of the ball, doing some complicated footwork to maintain control that would have had TK tripping over his own feet if he were to even dare trying a move like that. TK can’t help but to beam with pride.

TK holds his breath as Carlos sidesteps a player on the orange team that’s barreling towards him. He rises to his feet, his heart in his throat as Carlos is able to keep control of the ball and sends it flying into the goal.

“Go, Carlos!” Chris shouts.

TK lets out a triumphant roar of his own, his father whooping as well. TK looks to Chris and gives the young boy a high five, beaming back at him.

“Oh man, I wish I could stay on and watch the rest of the game but duty calls. I’m sure Carlos and his team will keep the momentum going,” Owen says. “Enjoy the match and keep me posted.”

“Will do,” TK responds, quickly ending the call. He can feel his whole body buzzing with excitement for Carlos who finds him in the crowd and gives him a wink.

TK mirrors the move as he claps and sits back down again. He’s practically bouncing in his seat as the game continues.

The purple team continues to do well though no more points are scored as the second quarter begins but Buck and Carlos are on fire during this next leg of the match, their skills clearly a cut above the others. Buck manages another goal with an assist from TK, the two exchanging another low high five. The orange team tries to rally after Buck’s goal, desperate to at least score one point now that they’re down two nothing. The tactics become a bit more intense with players from the orange team clearly marking Buck and Carlos as the main ones to focus on. Carlos is being guarded heavily by one man on the orange team when he’s in possession. TK feels anxious watching Carlos try to break away but the man is like a shadow. As Carlos darts to the right, he’s felled by the other player who very deliberately tripped Carlos.

TK shoots up from his seat, his heart sinking to the pit of his stomach just as Carlos’ body drops to the ground, clutching at his leg. The crowd sucks in a collective breath but TK can only really register the sight of his boyfriend’s face contorting in pain. Buck crouches down beside him, speaking to him hurriedly.

“Dad, is Carlos going to be okay?” Christopher asks, his voice a quiet whisper as if not to spook TK. It’s touching that this kid he’s only just met is so considerate.

“I...I’m sure he’s alright,” Eddie says. He doesn’t sound entirely convincing but it hardly matters. The man’s words are like static in TK’s ears as he fights the urge to go racing out onto the pitch to check on Carlos himself and also give the other player a piece of his mind.

His body moves inches forward on its own accord as the rest of Carlos’ team crowds around him along with a medic from the sidelines and the referee heads who holds up a yellow card to the player responsible for bowling Carlos over and TK shouts his frustration.

“That’s it?” Certainly a red card and dismissal from the match would be the best course of action.

TK can see Buck getting upset at the call as well, the man drawing nearer to the referee to make the case. TK could just hug him for that, for stepping up and defending Carlos right then and there when he’s unable to do just that on his own.

It’s obvious Buck isn’t having much luck, his expression growing grimmer as the medic tends to Carlos. It’s torture watching his boyfriend in pain and TK can feel his eyes stinging as he struggles to keep himself in together as Carlos is helped off the field.

“I can’t just stand here,” he says to no one in particular.

TK leaves the stands, racing down the steps and hurrying along to where the purple team is congregated on the benches. He isn’t even sure he’s allowed down here but he doesn’t spare a thought to it as he pushes his way to Carlos’ side.

“TK? What are—,” Carlos starts but TK silences him with a hug.

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s my ankle. I think I twisted it.”

TK shoots a glare over at the orange team, searching for the guy responsible for this.

“Babe, it’s okay. I’m okay.”

“You’re the one with the busted ankle. I should be comforting you right now, not the other way around, Los.”

Carlos laughs and nods as the medic wraps his ankle and ices it. She confirms Carlos’ suspicion about the severity of his injury.

“True but I’d also like to make sure we keep the peace. This is a charity event after all and I’d hate to have to see my boyfriend arrested. Don’t forget, we’re surrounded by cops; you’re severely outnumbered,” he teases.

TK’s lips twitch with a smile, his disdain towards the other player fading away as he gives Carlos a quick kiss, cupping his cheek and brushing his thumb along Carlos’ cheekbone.

“I take it this is TK,” a voice says. TK turns and sees Buck holding out his hand. “I’m—”

“Buck. It’s nice to meet you.”

Buck’s brows furrow in confusion, no doubt wondering how it is that TK knows his name already. TK points over to where he had been seated in the stands, Christopher holding up his sign above his now that they’re all looking his way.

“I got the chance to meet your crew and two very special parts of it. Chris is the coolest kid ever and his dad is just as incredible.”

TK doesn’t miss the soft expression in Buck’s eyes as he looks over at the father and son duo. TK and Carlos exchange a glance before Buck turns his attention back on them again.

“They’re family,” Buck says simply with a warm smile. “How are you feeling, Carlos? What’d the medic say?”

“Twisted not sprained so that’s a relief. It’s low grade so I won’t be out of commission for too long.”

“The second the match is over I’m taking you right back to the hotel, alright? I know you’ll be fine but I’ll feel a hell of a lot better when you’re in bed getting rest.”

“Yes, Dr. Strand,” Carlos muses. “Report back to the stands. We all need to see Buck continue to kick some butt out there.”

TK gives him one last kiss. “To help with the pain and suffering,” he quips before hurrying back to rejoin Eddie and Chris.

~*~*~

Purple team wins.

Even as he cheers, Eddie spares a glance at his new friend and is relieved to find he has already rushed to his boyfriend's side and both TK and Carlos are smiling widely and clapping on the bench.

The crowd rushes on the field to congratulate the winners as loud as they can.

Both Eddie and Christopher are somehow the first to reach Buck despite the rest of their family getting a headstart on them while Chris got his crutches. Something tells him that they have let them, though he couldn’t say why.

(That’s a lie. He knows why.)

(Damn meddlers)

(That is also a lie. He loves them all dearly.)

Buck has sweated through his shirt, his normally well-coiffed hair is a mess of curls and unruly strands. Eddie has no rights to find him as beautiful as he does but he can’t help it.

Buck is magnificent. The sun itself must be envious of how bright he shines.

The energy is high and everyone is speaking excitedly about the game, Carlos’ injury and the insane rules of soccer.

Chim slaps Buck on his shoulder with a, “Good job, Buckaroo,” which earns him a satisfied look from Christopher, ever defendant of his Buck.

“Did you like my sign, Buck?” he asks, pointing to it now in Eddie’s hands.

“I loved it, buddy. Thank you so much, it’s the best sign anyone has ever made in the history of signs.”

From anyone else, it would have been an exaggeration to please a kid. From Buck, it’s nothing but the truth.

They stay a while there, chatting and laughing, and then the players go to change and finally, it’s time to leave. The kids are tiring and so are the adults if Eddie is being honest. The Oregon fall air keeps chilling and they are all angsty to get back inside where it’s warm.

“Eddie, wait.”

It’s TK running up to him, his phone in his hand which he gives to Eddie. Carlos waves at him from the car.

“Give me your number,” TK says. “I’ll hold you to your and your friends’ words when Carlos and I are in LA. I’m gonna have to see for myself how great your station is.”

“Of course,” Eddie replies with a laugh. “But be ready to be impressed.”

He gives TK his phone back.

“Reach out to if you ever find yourself in Austin, you and anyone else you’d wanna bring with.”

There’s something else there in between the words but TK is already saying goodbye, probably in a hurry to bring Carlos back to their hotel room so he can shower and rest his poor ankle.

Yet, half-turned, TK stills.

His gaze finds Eddie and, gently, only for his ears, he says something that has Eddie’s foundations shake.

“You know, if everyone sees it, it may be because it’s actually there.”

He glances behind Eddie before wiking at him and then he’s gone.

“They make a great couple,” Buck says when he comes up to him, seconds later.

Eddie can only hum in return, his thoughts are miles away.

“You’re okay?”

Buck is frowning in concern. His cheeks are still warm from the effort of the game but his breathing is even as his eyes wrack over Eddie’s face.

Buck is always so concerned about Eddie and Christopher too. He would gladly give up any plans he had if the Diaz boys only asked for anything at all.

Maybe it is there.

“TK thought we were dating,” he admits, voice low.

“Oh.” Silence. “Carlos thought so too.”

Eddie searches in his best friend’s eyes an answer to a question he can’t bring himself to ask just yet. What he finds gives him hope, and courage as well.

“Weird huh,” Buck says and he licks his lips in what Eddie recognizes to be nervousness.

He smiles, relieved beyond words. “No, not so weird.”

“No?

Buck is carefully hopeful, as if his heart beats too loud in his chest and he is afraid the whole world might hear it but unable to calm it all the same.

Serene like he has not been in so long a time, Eddie reaches for Buck’s hand and squeezes it.

“No,” he repeats. “It’s not weird at all.”

And though they don’t say it, they both know.

It is there and it is forever.

#buddie #tarlos #eddie diaz #evan buckley #tk strand #carlos reyes #crossover #christopher diaz #starlightbuck #happy bday nicky! #kimmy writes

[jenovahh]

The Honey Pot - Ch. 20 - The Queen’s Cruelty

Staring blankly at the art on the underside of your canopy, you try to unravel all that occurred tonight.

“Though I trust it will not come to that. You are a force of nature of itself, Honey.” Reaching for your hair, Varis takes a strand of it between two fingers, much like he had when you first met him. “One I hope to claim for myself.”

It is taking all your control in that moment to not recoil in disgust, letting him twirl your hair between his fingers. You’re already shaken by what he’s unveiled to you in this trip, your mind spinning in circles trying to figure out what he could possibly do with knowledge like this.

“But...I am happy working for Zenos.” You murmur, frowning deeply. You meet his gaze head on despite your voice wavering slightly. “Ignoring the sex, loathe as I am to admit it, I have enjoyed our banter, our duels. And I don’t think you can give that to me.”

Varis studies you silently, hand dropping from your hair and you swear you hear the guard behind you reaching for something. Instincts kicking in, you spin around and strike at his wrist, effectively knocking the gun he had just grabbed from his hand. Swiftly, you grab that same wrist and quickly spin behind him to twist his arm behind his back, grunting as he whines in pain as you kick the gun out of arm’s reach.

Varis is still quiet through the whole event, hands tucked behind his back as a covetous look fills his gaze. Looking down at the guard you had disarmed, he tuts. “While I appreciate your quick action for her speaking out of turn against me...you are far out of your league.” He hums, eyes sliding back up to you. “Nonetheless...this is an unfamiliar feeling to me.” Varis chuckles, eyes narrowing.

“For all my life, I have had everything I have ever desired handed to me without question. Women have been no different. Any woman would be grateful for the attention I have basked you with, Honey.” The way he says your name makes you sick to your stomach, a sort of wanting that sounds warped and twisted. “No one has resisted me as much as you have. It will make claiming you all the more rewarding.”

Whereas anytime you were forced to be in Varis’ company only filled you with indescribable hate, now you felt unnerved and wary of his presence. Something about his attitude changed where you were concerned and your instincts screamed at you everytime to give him a wide berth. You had hit the jackpot as it were in terms of information, the only issue is you didn’t know what to do with it, and you had no way of contacting your superiors.

You had to wonder if they were worried about you. Surely they kept track of you in the news, but you wondered if they tried keeping track of you with shadier means. Zenos destroying your phone effectively killed any contact you had with them. Zenos making you his personal bodyguard scattered months worth of carefully laid plans like leaves on the wind. And after seeing first hand what the personal technology the Galvus name was capable of, there was no way you were getting any inside info out of the compound.

It’s probably best it remains that way. May the Twelve save your soul when the police find out you’ve been fucking the heir’s son because you wanted to. Really, you had no idea how things could get any worse.

Well, Varis could continue holding you hostage like he had been. It had only been two days since Varis had shown you the Aetherochemical Research facility, your mind still unable to fathom it. You knew it might as well have been the closest thing to rocket science, so you didn’t feel too bad for not understanding it, but the persisting feeling of something much bigger at stake wouldn’t leave you alone.

It was rare your gut was ever wrong, especially when you felt it so strongly. You wish you could explain the feeling, because you were positive that normal people didn’t have a gut feeling so intense it sat at the back of their minds. Anytime you had tried explaining it to Y’shtola and Lyse they had brushed it off as you just being perhaps a little paranoid, but you were never wrong.

Whatever it was, you would just have to be on the lookout for it.

Dressed for the day, you dust yourself off as you waltz down to Varis’ office where you had begun to meet him to start the morning. He started his days a little later than his son, having no wish to work out at the crack of dawn. You leave out much later than Zenos does as a result, leaving you restless with nothing to do with the extra free time.

Reaching the door, you knock twice as you hear not just one, but two voices from inside. Raising an eyebrow, you hear a “come in” from the other side of the door, hand reaching for the knob and giving a solid turn as you step inside the office.

To your surprise, you meet not just golden eyes, but a pair of ruby ones as well.

“Good morning, Honey.”

Seated in one of the plush lounge chairs lies Elidibus, his ruby eyes twinkling with curiosity and concealed amusement. You feel almost as if he is studying you somehow, starting to feel unnerved by his presence, but for different reasons entirely.

As if he knows something you don’t.

“Good morning.” You return with a bow, awaiting your orders. “Good morning to you as well, Emissary.”

Elidibus gives a polite nod of his head, a welcoming smile on his face. “It has been a few months since we’ve seen each other last. Have you been well?”

Nodding, you cast a wary glance at Varis who somehow seems less annoyed. “Yes, I have been well.” Focusing on Varis now, you take a deep breath. “What are my orders for today?”

Frowning, Varis closes a folder you didn’t notice was on his desk and fixes you with a disappointed look. “Due to the nature of business Elidibus and I must discuss, I am unable to keep you as my bodyguard for the upcoming months. You may return to your duties with Zenos.”

Shock stills your tongue for a moment, genuine surprise on your eyes as confusion stalls your thoughts. Brain finally catching up, you blurt out the first thing on your mind. “I thought you didn’t want me anywhere near your son.”

Instead of frowning, Varis smirks, reclining back in his chair. “This is true, but unfortunately it is more important that this information regarding my campaign trail remains classified. Your actions and failures with Garlond’s bodyguard have proven you untrustworthy.” His eyes narrow, but his smirk remains present. However, if you wish to make your position permanent...you may stay.” He pauses, smirk growing wider despite you not gracing him with an answer. “Loathe as I am to send you back to him, it will make winning you from him all the more satisfying.”

You can feel bile nearly come up your throat at those very words, quickly composing yourself as you give a deep bow. “I understand.” You reply, knowing you got off lucky this time and at least won’t have to serve under him for the foreseeable future. Giving one final bow, you turn to exit the room, nearly reaching the door before you sense something flying for your head.

With preternatural reflexes you turn just in time to catch it, finding you had caught what looks to be an inkwell that was once sitting upon Varis’ desk. Examining it, you look back at the two men in the room, finding Varis looking at Elidibus in question. Sliding your gaze to Elidibus, his own is even more scrutinous than before, though he seems to also look surprised. You didn’t even hear him move to stand. “Can I get an explanation as to why I had something thrown at the back of my head?” You ask, staring both men down.

“I have heard rumors of your skill, and merely wished to test it for myself.” Elidibus answers, a purr to his voice as he circles the desk to retake his seat.

“Wouldn’t it make more sense to just ask to see me fight?” You huff angrily, tossing the inkwell back at him.

Astonishingly, he catches it without missing a beat.

“That is true,” he sighs, rolling the inkwell around in his hand, ruby eyes looking at you in a new light. Now you especially get the feeling he knows something you don’t. “If you don’t mind, perhaps I will come watch a spar with yours. That is, if young Zenos does not mind.”

Huffing a laugh, you give him a sarcastic look. “Oh yes. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind at all.” You drawl, complete with an eye roll. How you felt so brazen in front of Elidibus was anyone’s guess, especially given you were in front of your boss as well. There was a strange sense of ease you felt around the Emissary. Or rather you didn’t feel you had to be so on guard around him. Given his relationship to Varis, you would think he would put you incredibly on edge.

Strange.

“Either way, I will take my leave.” You bow and turn back around to open the door and step out into the hallway.

That was weird, you think as you head to grab a few extra things from upstairs before heading back down to catch a car ride to the office. Zenos has been long gone of course, having done his training and headed off to work well over an hour ago, and your heart stutters in your chest to even think about seeing him once more. It had been well over a month since you had been able to speak with him; winter’s chill had finally set in and his gaze was as cold as the wind outside. Not that you would ever admit to anybody, most of all yourself, you were nervous.

Extra knick knacks in tow, you head on down to the front door and step outside to hop in the car where the chauffeur awaits. Yuyusho gives you a gentle greeting as you step inside, somewhat soothing your nerves. Engaging in some small talk helps keep your mind at ease as he drives along, Yuyusho driving neatly as he safely navigates the bustling streets of downtown Kugane. Once at the Galvus highrise, you swallow thickly, wishing silently Yuyusho would’ve run over a broken bottle or something and popped a tire. You’re here now, and there’s no turning back, so you exit the car and wave goodbye and head on in.

It’s strange to enter the building alone, not having to flank either Zenos or Varis as they go about their business. Building security welcomes you as you head toward the elevators, and you're thankful that Zenos takes after his father and keeps his office on the uppermost floors. This gives you plenty of time to think about what you’re going to say when you get up there and face him.

Would he be cold toward you still? Hell, did he even know you were on your way? He had to, right? Would he be happy to see you, but wouldn’t show it like a normal person? Would he be happy in his own “Zenos” way? Maybe he’d tell you to die in a fire.

The more questions popped up, the sicker you felt until you had to stop the elevator on the closest floor and briskly walk to the closest restroom. Splashing water on your face, you gaze at yourself in the mirror, a few stray hairs clinging to your skin.

What were you so nervous for?

This man had seen you naked. Twice.

And despite him not being your first, you know he’s seen the most vulnerable parts of you had never dared show anyone. Not even Lyse or Y’shtola. You hand this man’s ass to him on a daily basis for crying out loud. He should be afraid to see you.

Yet, here you are, anxiety twisting your gut like you’re somehow a teenager working up the courage to ask their crush out on a date.

There was so much unsaid about your relationship. Perhaps sex did not change things for him, but it certainly did for you. You had never been a blushing maiden saving herself for marriage, but to you, sex was not just about the sex itself. The intimacy of it all, the kissing, the touching, how they would linger on your skin for hours after...that is what led you to Estinien.

That is what made everything with Zenos so confusing.

In the back of your mind, you knew why you were afraid. To face the unsaid, to unpack the feelings beginning to grow out of control was to acknowledge you felt anymore more than annoyance for the Galvus heir.

And as a fucking undercover cop, that just would not do.

It would be so much easier if he just treated you like shit in bed! How could you have ever guessed he would be a considerate, passionate lover? Any other day, he spoke to you as if you were his servant, barked at you, insulted you to the point that anyone else would’ve cried or filed a lawsuit by now. But in his arms you felt safe.

You felt like you belonged there.

You felt like he cared.

Words are the only thing you understand.

You watch your eyes widen in the mirror, realization dawning on you.

Touch.

Zenos understood touch.

Twisted as it was, it made so much sense now why he was never bothered by you kicking his ass. Why he always saw your manhandling him as just friendly banter and flirting. Why he held you close in the fountain, why he never let anyone else near you, why he felt like he was making love to you--

A hysterical laugh bubbles up from your throat, escaping too fast to catch, and another one follows soon after. What did it say about you that a monster like him figured out how to communicate his feelings to you in a way you understood before you could do the same for him?

Not that you didn’t know this already, but by the Twelve, you were fucked.

Smoothing your hairs back in place, you dust yourself off and straighten up in the mirror. Taking a deep, cleansing breath, you stride out the restroom feeling a little better, but not any more confident. You won’t let that stop you however, head held high as you head back to the elevators and resume your trip up the building.

Reaching the upper floors, you take one final breath before stepping out. Looking left and right, you find the hall is surprisingly quiet, not dissimilar to how it had been your first few days here. However, as the months had gone on, employees would chat more and converse amongst themselves. It was mostly due to fear of upsetting Zenos somehow that had kept them quiet, and you guessed that in your absence, he had been taking out that excess energy on his subordinates.

Frowning, no matter how much you wanted to see him, treating people, even if they were his employees, like shit was unacceptable. Feeling a bit more sure, you stride down the hall and make a beeline for his office. Passing by cubicles and copiers, you can see various expressions on their faces, ranging from surprise to relief at seeing you pass by. You swear you hear someone whisper “thank the kami” as you head by. Fixing your jaw, you reach the opulent doors that lead to Zenos’ office and knock three times, waiting for an answer.

“Enter.”

Sounding entirely too much like his father, you open the door, cool air brushing across your face as you step inside. The grand door shuts behind you and across the way you can see Zenos sitting at his desk, not an onze of surprise on his sharp features. In fact he’s scowling at you, so much so that if looks could kill you’re sure you would’ve taken psychic damage from how hard he is glaring at you. Naturally, instead of offering an olive branch, you go straight for the throat.

“Well don’t look too happy to see me.” You tease, throwing a smirk his way, though it fades as you realize he isn’t rising to your bait.

Maintaining his frown, his fist clenches tighter around the pen in his hand. “I’m not.” He responds, clipped and to the point, his eyes jolting where you missed Livia sitting on the couch in your spot. Glaring at her for no reason other than the fact that you can, you repress a satisfied grin as Zenos orders her to leave. “I see father has deigned to take you back. You are dismissed.”

Livia, seeming to know what is best for her, stands and bows to Zenos, remaining entirely silent as she strides out the office without as much as a word. The door shutting again sounds much more final as it leaves you alone with Zenos in his office. Clearing your throat, you eye your spot, shrugging slightly. At least she’s warmedit up for you.

Before you can move to sit down, Zenos cuts you off. “And what do you think you’re doing?”

Shooting him a deadly look, you find yourself getting annoyed quickly. “The fuck does it look like I’m doing? I’m sitting down, you idiot.” You snap back. Zenos places his pen down with the utmost care, seeming to do so for worry of crushing it in his fist.

“I would have thought you had learned some respect while attending my father.” He seethes, the words scathing and meant to bite, but as usual you rise to the challenge.

“I kick your ass on the daily and you expect me to fear your old man?” You laugh, throwing your head back to cackle at the thought of allowing Varis to make you do anything. “The bastard’s lucky I didn’t kill him in his sleep. Trust me, I thought about it. I had plenty of opportunities to snap his silly, little neck.” The words sound wrong from your lips, not for the words themselves but how much you mean them.

Zenos seems to realize this too, but his expression doesn’t lighten in the least. “I see.” Is all he says, picking up his pen again. “Well, since you are here, I have some work for you to do.”

Arching a brow, you stand up straight and cock your hip out to the side. “What happened to your secretary? What’s-her-face,”

“I fired her.” Zenos interjects, looking more annoyed by the second. “Are you really going to stand there and continue to question me?” He places his pen down once more, standing to his feet, shoving his hands in his pockets. His suit is tailored to his form as usual, accentuating his figure deliciously to the point you can already feel desire creeping into your gaze. “I spent a month without your presence, and I must say, it helped me realize what a terrible subordinate you truly are.”

Snapped out of your shameless ogling, you fix Zenos with a menacing look, remaining still as he makes his way toward you. “Excuse me?”

“I said you are a terrible bodyguard.” He huffs, having made his way toward you. Looking down his nose at you like he did the first time he met you. “You talk back to your superiors. You think yourself untouchable and above consequences. You question orders instead of following them. Livia was the perfect picture of an ideal bodyguard. A silent shadow.”

Scoffing, you give him a sly look, seeing the lies in his words. “Really, Zenos. You’d have me no other way.”

This seems to anger him as he raises his fist as if to punch you but your reflexes are faster, blocking it without a flinch. You hold his hand, gripping his fist tight within your palm. “Now I have a question for you: when are you gonna sit and talk like a fucking adult and say what you really want to say, instead of trying to go back to treating me like shit, huh?”

Jerking his fist back, he says nothing and retreats to his desk, leaving you standing in the middle of the floor amongst the furniture. “Stand there for all I care. I have work to do.”

Sighing, you go ahead and plop down onto the closest couch, kicking your feet up on the coffee table and prepare for yourself for a long, slow day.

As the morning drags on, Zenos seems set on ignoring you, scribbling away at Hydaelyn knows what. Once or twice you comply with his wishes and do run a few errands for him since it seems he really did fire his secretary. She was a nice girl and you could not understand what could have possibly led him to sacking her; she did her job well and was pleasant to talk to. If this is what just a month without you around was like, you hate to think about how much the long term employees had to deal with. No doubt the majority of them felt the paycheck was too nice to give up and would rather deal with their boss’ abuse.

Once again he wasn’t responding to any of your teasing, closing himself off and speaking to you in one word sentences. As the day waned on, you found that sad feeling creeping up again, just like you had felt that night at the gala. A wish to understand why he was being so cold to you, and what could be done to get back to normal.

Words are the only things you understand.

With the sun having set, you stand just outside the office, a stack of copies in your hand. It was easy to cling onto your pride, to try and maintain your moral high ground, because at this point it was the only thing you had. Because you knew as soon as you let go, that was it.

Would it be so wrong to be mine and mine alone?

Zenos had been vulnerable. He may not have realized it, but remembering that pained look on his face, the desperation to understand, he had bared his heart to you with sparkling clarity, and perhaps it was you who was closed off. In your fight to not give in, you had alienated yourself.

You could have easily left messages or snuck to see him during your time with Varis, anything to let him know that you still cared.

With a melancholy sigh and your mind made up, you push open the door and stride into the office, eyes set on the blond haired man across the room. “Zenos.”

He doesn’t even look up, still scribbling away at whatever documents are beneath his hands. While angered by this, you keep a cool head on your shoulders and make your way over to his desk. Standing in front of it, you place the papers down gently. “The files you wanted.”

Not that you were expecting any actual thanks, you’re still pissed when you don’t receive any. Deciding that your anger seems to be the only thing that ever gets anything out of him, you let the feeling take hold of you. “Zenos yae Galvus.” You growl, slamming your hands on the desk.

That seems to get his attention, if only because you slammed hard enough to cause his hand to jerk and ugly mark now lies upon whatever document he was writing. With a cool and relaxed tone that sounds like the calm before the storm, those blue eyes you adore look at you with a look that is venomous. “Speak quickly before I kill you.”

“You wish you fucking could.” You snap, jabbing a finger in his face. “We aren’t doing this bullshit. Not again.” The surety of your words makes him frown but he says nothing more, so you continue. “Are you really going to act like a child, again, because your father dragged me around? You heard him yourself; he’s the top dog around here so if I want to keep my head on my shoulders I better fucking listen to him! Didn’t you say that?”

You watch as his bottom lip nearly pokes out to pout but he stops himself. Barely. You're right and he knows it. “And what problem is it of mine?”

“What your problem is, is that you’re taking out your daddy issues on me! The only person on this damn planet that gives a damn about you!” You nearly yell, teeth bared as you let your emotions flow free. “I figured you’d be happy to see me again! I hated every moment of every day of every bell with that excuse of a man!” Your chest is heaving and you start to feel a little warm.

“You assume much, thinking I spent any time thinking about you.” Zenos scoffs, crossing strong arms across his broad chest, eyes narrowed on your form. “I knew you were foolish,”

You cut him off with a frustrated yell, close to ripping your hair out. He didn’t get it. He really didn’t get it.

There was only one way to get him to understand.

Marching around his desk, you take satisfaction in seeing the small amount of alarm in his expression as you give a firm push on the back of his chair that pulls him from his desk. Spinning him toward you, you waste no time straddling his lap, grabbing him by the hair and pulling back, finding him already half hard beneath you. A filthy moan comes from that pretty throat of his and you swallow it whole, pressing your lips to his in a crushing kiss, passion sweeping you away as you feel what it is to finally be near him like this after so long.

Your tongue demands entrance before he gets the chance to do it first, your hand having a firm grip on his hair as you bite harshly on his lip, hips already rolling into his own. You feel his hands snake around your body to crush you to him, pressing you closer than close as you finally part for air. “You fucking idiot,” you rasp, tilting his head to go for his neck, peppering kisses and love bites on his perfect skin, claiming what is rightfully yours.

It surprises you as much as it doesn’t as he turns into putty beneath your hands, any tension that he had held at the mere sight of you all day going away with his hands on your body. His hands are greedy, groping your ass, your hips, your thighs. Feeling, touching, as if you had disappeared from the very star and he was sure you would never return.

His hunger is deeper than you could have anticipated, for he steels his grip at your hips to grind against your core, standing to his feet to sit you on his desk, the documents atop it instantly forgotten. The change in control is so jarring, his hand reaching to pluck yours from his hair, pinning it to the wood beneath you. “Honey,” he breathes, his other hand leaving your hip to undo the button on your slacks.

Unzipping your pants, he shoves his hand in them with a small amount of decorum, fingers wedging themselves between your thighs before you can spread them wider. “Give me a second,” You hiss, wishing he didn’t have you crushed halfway beneath him with hardly any room to move.

“I won’t even give you that long.” He groans against your neck, finding what he was looking for as his fingers brush across your lower lips, still covered by your panties. Your hips jerk, almost to the point of embarrassment, having never felt so sensitive to a lover before. Granted in that entire month you hadn’t even seen Estinien; going without sex ever since the day Varis split you and Zenos apart. Zenos seems to notice this, pleased as he searches for what he knows will make you scream for him.

With that thought in mind, panic shoots through you, trying to shove him off you for at least five seconds. “I didn’t lock the door--”

“And I couldn’t give a fuck.”

The use of such foul language is enough to still your movements from shock alone, body going rigid until he pulls your head back further by your hair, lips ravishing your neck. It was already enough that you werent supposed to be fucking the Galvus heir in the first place, and here he was refusing to lock the door just in case someone wants to pay him an unexpected visit and finds you kneeling under the desk with his cock halfway down your throat.

Twelve above, the idea excites you more than it should.

Because what is a bigger fuck you to Varis than immedaitely being released from his side to go do the very thing that got you there in the first place? What would grind his gears more than showing Zenos how much you care in the only way he’ll understand?

At the very least the hour is late; most of the nine-to-five workers have gone home and if anyone pops in on you, it’ll be a janitor looking to clean Zenos’ already immaculate office. However, with his aggression already this high, you don’t doubt they’ll actually have something to clean later. In the corners of your vision you already see one of his pencil cups tipped over from how roughly he put you on the desk and you know the papers are crumpled beneath your ass. Humming, you let him have his way with you, knowing now that he needs this outlet.

“If anyone has missed me, it is you.” He purrs, feeling how wet you are for him. Before you can even open your mouth to protest he nips at your bottom lip, gasping at your look of surprise. “Your body will always tell the truth, my beast. I like that about you. You may curse my very name until your dying breath, but your body will always let me know just what you feel.” He continues brushing the pad over a finger between your lower lips, his other hand moving to unbutton your shirt. “I’ve been thinking...would you be opposed to wearing skirts? It would make this much easier.”

Clamping onto his shoulders, you try to push him off you but instead your arms curl around his broad frame. “I thought you wanted me to be a good bodyguard.” Your voice is already breathy, face warm from embarrassment. What happened to the control, the confidence you had walking in the room? Just a few touches, and now he’s got you bucking into his hands.

“It took me time to realize...but I want you to be no one else but yourself.” He whispers, finally slipping a finger inside. He lets your body adjust as you throw your head back, toes curling in your shoes. With gentle lips he trails kisses along your pulse, inhaling deeply to breathe you in. “Livia bored me. She obeyed every order, and never spoke out of turn.” He frowns, pumping his finger out of your wet sheathe.

Whimpering, you move your hands to grab for your pants as best as you are able with him halfway on top of you. Shoving them down, you try to lift your hips but Zenos is stubborn and continues to pump that single finger within you. “Let me get my pants off--” You snarl, kicking him in the shin, smacking him on the shoulder as he barks out a rich laugh.

“Very well.” Pulling his hand from your pants, he backs off entirely, your body immediately missing the warmth. Not hiding your confusion, you watch as he sits back in his chair, almost slouching as he gets comfortable. “Go on. Take them off.”

Flushing deeply, somehow you find yourself stuck with stage fright. “A-Are you going to just watch me?” you ask incredulously, shoving your blazer off your shoulders.

“Well of course. Why not make it interesting?” He croons, eyes half lidded and molten with lust.

Despite your continuing nervousness, when you have one of the most powerful men in the world looking at you like that, it’s hard to not feel at least a little sexy. While you were by no means a lady of leisure, you did your best to finish his task of unbuttoning your shirt, letting it slip from your shoulders in a way you hope is sexy. You can’t help but feel a little silly, but Zenos’ attention is focused on you entirely, and judging by the tent going on in his pants, he likes what he sees.

You only wish you had cuter underwear, your panties and bra built to be practical and not for looks. You decide to leave your bra on for now and begin to push your pants down your legs, hands gliding across your skin as the clothing falls to the floor. As you bend over to kick out of them and get them off your ankles, you can’t help but stare at the obvious bulge in his pants, mouth watering as your eyes hone in on it. Continuing your way down to the floor, you rest on your knees and place your hands on his thighs, using force to start spreading them before you as he quickly catches on and splays his legs wide.

Scooting closer between them, your hands reach for his pants, caressing his length through the material, able to feel how firm and hot it is through his slacks. His breath hitches immediately, and you hazard a glance, finding his eyes still half lidded, but no less focused on you. He doesn’t look smug or amused, he looks almost…

Reverent.

With that in mind, you slowly unzip his slacks, hands fumbling in their hurry to free him from his underwear, which are of course as fine as the suits he wears. Face to face with the thing that rendered you unable to walk straight more than once, you give yourself a moment to look at it.

Most genitalia looked a little weird, but you had to give it to Zenos; he had certainly lucked out that it had looked as perfect as the rest of him. His length was just enough that you would need both hands to grip him effectively, and you didn’t even want to start on his girth because that was the start of all your problems. The skin is like satin beneath your fingertips, his abdomen twitching as he remains silently still at your exploration. While giving head was not your most favorite activity in the world, you had to admit you wanted to do this more than anything to speak in a language he understood.

Leaning forward, you press the head of his cock to your lips, tongue darting out to swipe the precum beading at the tip, the salty taste coating your tongue. Pressing forward, you take the head into your mouth, a second hitch of his breath all the encouragement you need. Patiently, you slick his length with your spit until your hands can glide along with ease, lips still wrapped around the head of his cock.

You have no practice with deepthroating, but have heard plenty of tips from coworkers and friends alike, relaxing your throat as best as you can to take him as deep as possible. Given how big he is, you know you can only go so far, but it seems to not take much, for you feel a hand snake into your hair, pulling gently. Glancing upwards, his head is thrown back, his mouth agape as a moan comes forth, a sigh of Honey on his lips. Just hearing that has you moan around his cock, Zenos’ thighs tensing further at the vibrations you send through him.

Fully enamored with your task, you allow him to bob your head up and down at a reasonable pace you can handle, his eyes coming back to look at your lips wrapped around his cock. He still has that reverent expression, bordering on grateful, edging on...adoration.

On something more.

“You feel,” He groans, hips threatening to jerk and push too far but you use your strength to hold him down as he uses your face, hand gripping tighter and tighter in your hair. “I’m close,” he grunts, and you take a deep breath, preparing for his orgasm.

He moans your name in bliss as he comes, cum shooting into your mouth and down your throat, and you do your best to swallow it all down. Pulling off, a last few drops spurt onto your lips and chest, the viscous liquid warm and sticky as it clings to your breasts. Reaching up with your fingers you swipe it off your skin, sticking your fingers in your mouth to lick them clean in an unintentionally lewd display.

You watch as he catches his breath, looking as if had sucked the soul from his body. His skin is entirely flushed, cock beginning to soften before your very eyes as his chest rises and falls with every breath he takes.

"Stand up. Now." Zenos orders, still sounding breathless in his post orgasm haze. Standing to your feet, he grabs you fiercely by the hips and pushes you back toward the desk, feet scrambling for balance as he practically forces you onto it. You land on your back with no amount of grace, propping yourself up on your elbows as more of the items atop the desk tip over.

"Use your words you brute," your tirade is sharply cut off with Zenos ripping off your underwear, seams digging into your skin before they give way to his superior strength. Habit compels you to complain, but somehow his impatience is so arousing you find yourself once again shocked into silence. This gives Zenos plenty of time to scoot forward in his office chair and take a thigh in each hand, kissing the skin as one might worship a god. It is like night and day the way he treats you in bed. You knew he held you in high esteem, but only by touch do you truly grasp just how much.

It is evident in how he does not explicitly ask to do things to you, choosing to forgo words as he gazes up at you from beneath his lashes, lips drawing nearer to your molten core, asking permission with only his eyes. There is a beauty in the respect that he gives you, knowing full well he could use his strength to overwhelm you and take you hard and fast, but instead he chooses to be near…

Subservient.

His lips brush just across your petals, breath hot despite the fire you already feel between your own legs. Curling his arms around your thighs, he flexes his fingers into your flesh, gripping just to the point of pain as he holds you still. When his lips first touch your center you whimper, hips instinctively jerking forward into his face of which he doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he grips you a little tighter, as if to encourage you.

His tongue slips between your lower lips, tasting you, his eyes fluttering closed as he throws himself into his task. It is your turn for your head to fall back in bliss, a long moan pulled from deep within, the looming threat of a passerby having fled your mind. The heels of your feet dig into his back, your fists clench without anything to hold onto. Zenos devotes himself to his task as well as he would training, using his strength to subdue you so you don’t crush his head between your thighs.

Unable to take it anymore as he pushes you closer to orgasm, you finally lie back and thread your fingers through his hair, canting your hips toward his face and his mouth that is oh so lovely in this very moment. Your moans increase in pitch and frequency as he pushes you closer, that feeling of too close, too fast making itself known once again. Somehow only he has made you feel that way, as if he is giving you no other choice but to come.

When he hums, the vibrations shoot up your spine and you finally orgasm, crying out his name in abandon as you arch off the desk, crumpling the papers beneath you even further. Back arching taut like a bow, you clutch hard at his hair, the resulting moan providing an endless feedback loop of pleasure as the vibrations once again shoot through you as you still come down from your high.

Unable to hold fast to him any longer, you finally release his hair, watching as he sits up, licking his lips much like a cat. Only he is no house cat; he is a predator beyond compare, a beast in his own right. Something that could never be tamed or domesticated. Certainly not trained. A beast that would yield only to another just like it.

“Did you really not miss me at all?” you ask, wanting to hear it despite experiencing very clearly just how much he did. You allow him to move you as he wishes, his hand grabbing your own and pulling you up to a standing position. You give a sharp squeal as he unexpectedly spins you in his hold, pressing your back to his front.

He leans to brush his lips against your ear, his breathing ragged and torn with pleasure. “Such notions are beneath me.” He asks, his length nearly to full hardness and ready to go again. You shouldn’t be surprised at this point, but still, it was a wonder how you could go back to regular men after this.

He presses you harshly against the edge of the desk, the glossy wood pressing uncomfortably into your flesh. His hand presses firmly on your back urging you to lay your front flat against it, your hands shoving documents and stray pens aside. The cool surface does little for how warm you feel with him against you, the shuffling of clothing reaching your ears as you mull over how to respond.

“Well, I did.” You breathe, voice quaking much more than you’d like. “I-I missed you.”

His touch halts on you for a second, and fear grips your heart too tightly to even think about taking a look at his expression. Your face is on fire, a cocktail of embarrassment and vulnerability coursing through your veins. It feels like forever until he reaches for your left leg and hikes it up on the table, holding it in place as his other hand takes his cock and rubs it along your folds, slicking himself with your juices. Satisfied, he begins to feed himself slowly inside, his name torn from your lips as he slowly works himself inside.

He leans down above you, snaking a hand beneath your abdomen to hold you close to him, burying his face affectionately into your neck. You are surrounded by him entirely, his very existence eclipsing your entire being. It is hard to tell where he ends and you begin, especially as he is pushing those last few ilms of his cock deep inside you. Your hands reach for the other end of the desk to grab onto anything, until the hand that is holding your leg leaves it to grab your arm and pull it back toward his hair. You hold tight, enjoying the shiver he gives at the contact. Once he hilts himself fully he burrow further into your neck, tongue reaching out to taste and mark and claim.

He takes you.

He takes you as if there is no Galvus enterprises, no Varis, no Estinien.

As if you are not a cop and he, the son of a mob boss.

As if you are just a man and a woman in too deep but unable to turn back.

Every plunge of his cock into your core leaves you wailing beneath him, the desk shaking with the force of his thrusts, what few items remaining on the top rattling until they fall off entirely. You’re distantly aware of his computer monitor crashing to the floor but you cannot bring yourself to care and neither can Zenos, if anything he pounds harder, determined to bring you to the peak once more.

It’s personal.

Despite how much you don’t want it to be, you’re tired of fighting it. Fighting yourself.

When Zenos tilts your head to kiss him, you don’t bite back.

When you caress his face like one would a lover, you don’t think too hard on it.

And when he brings your world crashing down on you with another orgasm that has you crying his name out against his lips, you revel in the feeling of him being there to hold you through it all.

There’s no getting around that your skills have suffered slightly in your time apart from Zenos, who happily takes it upon himself to come to your room for your own personal wake up call. Smug as ever, he stands in your doorway already dressed and ready for the day as you chuck the smallest pillow you have at his infuriating face. He doesn’t even bother moving, cracking a joke that he would be more than willing to help you dress, to which you throw your alarm clock at him.

Of course, he catches it.

“Can't believe I’ve gotten this out of shape…” You sigh, throwing your head back to squeeze water directly into your mouth from your bottle. Sweat runs down your skin in small rivers, the air conditioning doing its job of keeping you cool. Seated upon the floor with your legs strewn, you look every bit unladylike as you are. Twisting the cap back on, you heave out a sigh.

“All because what? I got a few hits on you?” Zenos scoffs, holding an offending out expectantly. Scowling, you toss the water bottle at him rather than toward his hand, and he catches it without flinching.

“Yes.” You answer, smirking at him. “I can’t afford to have you catching up to me. Someone has to keep you in your place.”

He returns a smirk of his own, only his is tainted with desire. “Really now? I look forward to it.”

Finishing off the last of the water, he tosses it with perfect aim into the trash can, walking over to where you were seated upon the floor. Reaching out, he offers his hand and you grab it without a second thought, allowing him to pull you up to your feet.

“Do we have anything planned today?” You ask, heading to grab your things from the counter on the far wall.

“Today all that is on the agenda is to prepare for a trip; there is another charity event we must attend, as much as I hate to do so.” He drones, making his way toward the door. Before he exits, he looks at you over his shoulder. “We only have a few things to take care of at the office today before we return here and prepare for our trip. Or rather, you prepare for the trip. Packing my own things is beneath me.”

Not knowing what else to say aside from sticking your tongue out at him, you wave him off as he exits the gym and heads out to most likely shower before heading downtown. Slinging your gym bag over your shoulder, you make your way toward the door as well, opening it slowly only to find it stopped by a pale hand. Instinct immediately takes over, hand moving to strike whatever attacker had somehow made their way into the estate, before your hand only stops ilms from punching Elidibus in the face.

Releasing the breath you were holding, you nearly collapse from the shock alone, not expecting your mission to nearly end prematurely via way of “local bodyguard decks Garlean Prime Minister in the face” making the eleven o’clock news. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people, Emissary.” You finally get out as your lungs catch up with your racing heart. Where had he even come from? Was he lurking around some corner? You didn’t sense him at all…

“I apologize, I did mean to startle you so.” He chuckles lightly, ruby eyes gleaming with mirth.

“I merely meant to catch up with you. I knew you would immediately return to training with young Zenos, and made sure I woke up on time to speak with you.”

Relaxing a little, you find his eagerness to speak with you a little off putting, but otherwise you see no harm in it. It still baffles you that a whole ass dignitary would be scrambling for the chance to speak with you, especially since you can’t figure out the reason for his fascination with you. “What did you want to speak about?” You ask, taking a few steps out the doorway and into the hall. You watch as he gently allows the door to shut, ruby eyes never leaving your form.

He is dressed in a stark white suit, accented with golden embroidery on the lapels and cuffs. His hair is neatly trimmed as usual, though it seems longer than usual, in a neat braid down the back of his neck. “I will say, your reflexes had certainly intrigued me. I had always...sensed you had something special about you, Honey, and had taken it upon myself to find out.”

Unsure what to make of that, you shrug lightly and begin making your way toward your room so you can take a shower yourself. Elidibus isn’t through with you yet you realize, for he remains in step beside you. “Well, I’ve always been that way, since I was a kid. I was always faster than others, able to fight in ways nobody else could.”

“Is that so…” He murmurs, something in his voice making you slow your walk to face him more. Once he catches you looking at him, he fixes his face with a suspiciously kind smile. “What a rare gift, you must have. I will admit, when I had thrown that inkwell at you, I had not believed my own eyes. So this morning, I sought to watch your sparring match with the young master.” He pauses, raising a hand to tuck under his chin as if in thought. “Indeed, I saw for myself your ability. Zenos has always towered above his peers in combat, but to see someone not just stand toe to toe with him, but to dominate him so completely…”

Frowning, you stop walking, facing him full on. “What are you getting at?”

He stops a few steps ahead of you, staring at you with a sudden wisdom that makes him look twenty thousand years older than you rather than twenty. “Nothing...I just had the thought that perhaps some legends may become reality.”

A sense of apprehension fills you, one that is equal to the amount you felt when at the Aetherochemical Research Facility. Standing before the face of something greater, something far beyond your comprehension. “What...do you mean?”

The Emissary gives you an inquisitive look, as if he holds a million secrets and is willing to share none of them. “It is most intriguing that you have no idea who or what you are…” He murmurs, and you swear his eyes glow.

Standing before the Emissary, you feel as if he knows you better than you do yourself, and not in a way that makes you feel comfortable at all. You feel as if you stand before some sort of judgemental god, and he is readying himself to pass judgement on your poor mortal soul. “Elidibus...do you...know something about my past?”

The Emissary stands there silently, watching, waiting. Seemingly thinking over what he is to say, or perhaps inwardly laughing at how he will tell you nothing at all. “Have you really thought nothing more of your abilities? Thought you were just extremely talented?” He asks, voice as neutral as possible.

Frustrated, you rack your brain for an answer. “I don’t know. Growing up I thought...I just always thought I was really good. A strong fighter. You know how there are those like olympians? People who can lift weights with their pinky finger and stuff like that.”

He huffs out a short laugh at that, shaking his head, looking bemused as he takes a step closer toward you. “Oh, Honey. Really, you think that being able to snatch things from the air when you don’t have eyes in the back of your head isn't a little abnormal? Having the reaction time of coeurl is just a little quirk?”

“Rookie, you put her down so fast it was almost unnatural.”

“No one moves like that! It’s unnatural! You’re a freak!”

...Was there really something different about you?

Looking strangely content, Elidibus gives you an reassuring pat on the shoulder, jarring you from your thoughts. “Well, sorry to question you this early in the morning, my dear. I’m sure I’ve held you up long enough and we both know young Zenos has a temper on him. I’m sure we’ll find another time to chat.”

Still a little shell-shocked you nod weakly, and give a limp wristed wave goodbye. “Uh, yeah. Thanks for the talk. See you later, Elidibus.” You continue down the hallway, thinking on his words. Were you really that different? Were you just not an outlier?

When you turn back to try and ask Elidibus a question, you find the hallway completely empty.

The trip Gyr Abania is relatively problem free, the flight smooth and relaxing as you are once again treated to first class seating. You decide to have a juicy steak on your flight over, despite the flight taking only a few bells, knowing this was one of the few times Zenos couldn’t monitor your nutritional intake like a damn hawk.

Once you set foot on Gyr Abanian soil, you find it strange that it is still so warm. Kugane will no doubt have snow in the next month if not next few weeks, meanwhile in the arid land of Gyr Abania, you could easily wear some short shorts if you wanted to. The landscape is so different from Kugane, where even the more rural parts of Hingashi are rolling plains and lush, green grass, Ala Mhigo is dust and dirt, but no less beautiful. There is a magic to the barren land, and you feel no less fascinated by it all despite Zenos’ unamused sigh.

You ignore him, because even if your cover is a street rat that got swept into gang life, even as a cop you could only dream about saving up enough money to leave the country. Hingashi had the misfortune of essentially being an island unto itself, surrounded by the Ruby Sea and the plains of Othard where natives of the Azim Steppe kept to the ways of their ancestors. Travel outside the country was a true luxury, and living in Kugane made rent sky high, and your savings very little.

“I honestly don’t see the appeal.” Zenos feels the need to comment, expression bored as ever. The taxi rolls through the grand city, many of the buildings hailing to Gyr Abanian architecture, and you snap as many pictures as you can.

“I don’t recall asking for your opinion.” You snark, flashing him an angry look. “I’m not going to listen to a rich kid who’s probably seen it all already. So shut up.”

“Shut up? I think not. Unless, you have something between your thighs that will keep me quiet…” he trails off, staring out the window as you whip around to face him, your cheeks on fire.

“Zenos yae Galvus!” You hiss under your breath, sneaking a quick look at your driver who seems otherwise unaware of the words that just passed from his lips.

Zenos shrugs, smug look already in place as he fixes you with a molten look. “He doesn’t understand a word we are saying. However, if you require me to translate, my Gyr Abanian is rusty, but I’m sure I could--”

Your hand is over his mouth before he can finish the sentence. Naturally, like a kid, his tongue licks a clean line on the palm of your hand and it takes all your willpower to not pull back on reflex.

Since that night at the office, things had become incredibly pleasant between the two of you, as if something had been unlocked and you had had the key all along. The key being that Zenos responded to touch, and as a result, you used it more. When you were angry, you had no problems throwing him over your shoulder. Now it was more tender gestures such as a gentle hand on his shoulder to get his attention, or a playful shove when he said some ridiculous innuendo. It made being around him feel the same, yet brand new all at once, but you knew that largely due to the fact you had just stopped fighting it.

“It” being feelings you still were not ready to explore, but at the very least, you had dug this hole, so you might as well freshen it up a bit. Make a home out of it the best you can.

That didn’t mean you didn’t fight Zenos himself of course, but it made the days go by easier now that you weren’t stuck in that state of constant denial. The state of trying to hold yourself back from trying not to fraternize with the enemy and failing miserably.

Friends with Benefits Plus you had called it, because what else did you call sleeping with your boss who you would kill and be killed for? The boss who would kill for you without question?

Unfortunately, you get no time to explore the city of Ala Mhigo, at least not tonight. With a few carefully placed touches and some begging-not-begging, Zenos had acquiesced to staying an extra night to tour the city the next day after the gala, given the two of you didn’t stay up too late and party all night. Which, was unlikely to happen as Zenos hated these events anyway, and didn’t even want to go.

“Why send you then? I thought your father ate this shit up.” You ask as you ride in the limo with Zenos on the way to the event, senses on high alert due to this being a solo mission. Security is thankfully tight from what you saw, but you still remain focused on your job. Zenos had been taken away once, but you were determined to make sure that was the last time.

“I actually don’t know.” Zenos muses, as if he is just now realizing it. “Not that he filled me on every single detail of his schemes, that or I tuned them out because I didn’t care, but as of late he’s been…” his brows actually pinch together in thought. “He’s not told me anything as of late.”

“I take it that’s not a good thing…” You mumble as you hear the crowd of the red carpet getting closer even from the inside of the limo.

Zenos doesn’t answer, looking incredibly displeased and too deep in his thoughts. Deciding to leave him to it, you place a steady hand on his back as the two of you enter the limelight, pulling out your shades as the first camera flashes reach your eyes. Zenos becomes the picture of a celebrity in seconds, face schooled into an expression of cool indifference as paparazzi clamor him with questions. As his bodyguard you become his shadow, hanging just behind him as he answers questions, greets other celebrities, and makes his way down the red carpet to go inside.

Reaching the front doors the facade stays in place, the picture of the perfect son of Varis zos Galvus. As you tail behind Zenos, you spot Estinien and Cid across the way, the latter giving you a big wave to ensure you saw him. Naturally the paparazzi's attention turns to you immediately, and you duck behind Zenos' hulkish frame in a sudden bout of shyness. You don't have to look at Zenos to know he's rolling his eyes, continuing forward as more reporters attempt to swarm him.

Part of wishes you could leave Zenos long enough to go and speak with Estinien, to try and clear the air between you, but you can’t leave Zenos’ side, not when you are the only one here to protect him and confronting Estinien would mean confronting your own feelings about Zenos as well.

By the Twelve, when did you become such a coward?

“Something on your mind?” You hear Zenos ask, having zoned out on whatever conversation he was having with another businessman. That isn’t to say you’re unaware of your surroundings, but you have been taking the time to gaze at the various art pieces for sale, studying them with your peasant like tastes. “You have been concerningly quiet this evening.” He notes, flashing a winning smile at whatever celebrity waves at him as they pass by.

“No…” You murmur, suddenly quiet and shy, not wanting to tell him just what was on your mind. Things had gone back to normal, you would dare say even improved from the norm, but you still weren’t at a place where you would willingly vent to him about your problems. That was Ardbert’s job.

“Do not lie to me.” Looking up, while Zenos’ voice was surprisingly gentle, his expression spoke of retribution if you dared to disobey him. “I hate lies. Are you unwell? Do we need to retire early?” He questions, reaching a hand for your forehead, skin to skin. Your face heats immediately, stunned he would ask such questions.

“When did you start giving a damn about how I feel?” You ask, trying to push things back into more familiar territory.

Looking down at you, he arches a single brow. “Does that matter?” He tuts, smoothing a stray hair of yours out of place. That he feels so comfortable and at ease touching you so intimately in public like this while you’re overthinking every single interaction with him makes you wonder what goes on in his head. “You belong to me and I take care of things that are mine.”

Pushing his hand away (whereas months ago you would have slapped it), you try to not feel pleased by his words. “How many times do I have to tell you people are not possessions?” You grumble, knowing your face is still warm from embarrassment. “Don’t you care about paparazzi? What if the tabloids catch you doting on me?” Or worse your father…

“I care little for whatever tabloids have had to say and that is not about to change.” He lets his arm fall back to his side, giving you a sly smile. “And perhaps, I want to make sure a certain person sees just who you belong to…”

Looking up you follow his gaze to where you can spy a trace of silver hair retreating through the crowd.

“You asshole!” You snap, smacking Zenos hard in the chest, wishing you could deck him in the face but sadly you’re in the middle of a party. “How could you do something so cruel?!”

He scoffs, expression turning into one of irritation. “Cruel? You would most certainly know of cruelty, Honey.” He breathes, leaning into your space as if there is not an entire party around you. “You have been the sole object of my desire for months. Whereas you have gone between myself and another man, sleeping with him every weekend.” Your eyes brim with tears as he stands back to full height, giving you that condescending look that is oh so familiar. “Now, who is the cruel one?”

Your lip trembles as your heart breaks, hands reaching up to clutch each other as you find a deeply hidden pain you never would’ve thought possible in his eyes. Unable to look at him any longer you back away from him until you push through the crowd to get away. You ignore the looks you get as you put as much distance between you and Zenos as possible. Reaching the exit, you feel like you can finally breathe as you stumble into the hallway, nearly keeling over with how fast your heart pounds in your chest.

Standing straight, you swipe a flute of champagne off the tray of a busboy as he passes by, downing it in one gulp as you let your legs carry you down the hall. The security guards stationed outside the doors give you a questioning look -- it is no secret who you are and who you work for -- but otherwise mind their business as you amble down the hall.

What a mess you were.

You hunch over into a slouch as you find a door that leads to an enclosed garden, the fresh air doing wonders for your nerves. The air is balmy and cool, and you are actually thankful for the warmer climate of Gyr Abania. It’s not necessarily pleasant enough to stand out and hold conversation in, but feels nice enough that you can stand and think about what you’ve done.

Now, who is the cruel one?

You were going to hell.

You were supposed to be the righteous one. The one who actually knew anything about feelings, who had any emotional intelligence, the one who knew how to not treat someone like a fucking slave.

And here Zenos goes, acting like he had the ability to treat you like a decent human being all along.

You wish you could laugh but you’re still technically in public, and decide to just silently weep into the night instead.

He had really wanted you for that long, huh...looking back, you wonder just how many of those touches were invitations. If he would let you flip him over because he loved to have your hands on him. If his insistence at instructing you was to save face, or was it to share something he enjoyed with you?

“Gods...I’m the clueless one.” You murmur to yourself, furiously wiping at your cheeks like a madman. While you were running off into Estinien’s arms, Zenos was pining for you the whole damn time, though he’d probably die before he admitted it. And where he was at least forthcoming about his feelings, you instead made things worse by sleeping with Estinien to run away from truths you did not want to face. And you ran back to sleep with Zenos when Estinien wanted more out of you than just sex.

“You really are an awful person.” You whisper to no one in particular, no one aside from yourself.

“Are you sure I’m not a bad kid?”

Blue eyes look down at you in surprise, a sweet face framed by blonde hair coming to scoop you into her arms. “Why would you ever think you’re a bad person?” She asks, wiping some stray tears from your face. Your cheeks and eyes are puffy from your latest tantrum, lip poked out in an adorable pout.

“Y-You said I was bad.” You stammer, rubbing at your eyes with small hands.

“What you did was bad, my dear.” The girl nuzzles your face, peppering your cheeks with kisses. “But sometimes, the bad things we do do not make us awful people. We just have to promise to do better.”

Wiping the last few tears from your eyes, you gaze to the stars in the sky, finding comfort in their presence. It is not often you think about your childhood, what little of it you can remember, but sometimes you remember what wisdom Minfilia tried to impart to you as a child while essentially being a child herself. A calming breath fills your lungs with cool night air and you feel like you’re finally ready to face the music. Turning around, you exit the garden enclosure and head back to the party.

Oh Minfilia...what would you do? You wonder, still stuck in your thoughts until the sounds of an explosion reach your ears.

#zenos #zenos yae galvus #FFXIV #ff14 #Final Fantasy XIV #THP

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Promises Not Kept Part 2

Summary: Tommy Shelby made a promise to Jonah Ward while in the war. A promise he didn't keep. But it comes to haunt him when he tries to drown out his sorrows with a young woman.

Part 2: Tommy can’t keep Leah out of his head. Leah can’t accept what he’s offering her.

           “Tom.” Arthur rapped at the doorjamb as he entered the dimly lit office.

           “Yeah, Arthur, come in.” Tommy waved his brother into the office.

           “Something the matter?” Arthur asked as he sat. “You’ve been…not yourself the past few days.”

           Tommy’s piercing eyes gazed out the window. “Do you happen to remember Jonah Ward?” He chose not to comment on his brother’s observation. He knew he wasn’t himself since that night with Leah.

           “Sounds a bit familiar.”

           “He was in France with us. I was there when he died.”

           Arthur nodded slowly. Tommy rarely, if ever, talked about their time in France. He seemed keen to lock it away and never dig the memories back up. But they’d always be there for all of them, never quieting in the silence of the night.

           “Yeah, think I can picture the face. Why’d you bring him up?”

           “I promised to take care of his wife ‘fore he died.” He absent-mindedly ran his thumb over his chin. “I never did try to find her. Now she works at Midland.”

           Arthur raised an eyebrow. “So, you’re fucking her.” It was a reasonable assumption. Tommy had gone a little off the rails after Grace died. He was unstable, to say the least, and partaking in some questionable activities. But that was Tommy.

           His brother nodded slowly.

           “And how much is she asking for?”

           Tommy’s blue eyes moved from the window. “Nothing, that’s the problem.” He muttered. “She won’t take any help, I’ve offered her a job, fucking anything and she turned it down.”

           Arthur came to an understanding. “You feel guilty, then.” He surmised.

           The Blinder rolled his eyes. Of course, he felt guilty but he wasn’t fond of people pointing out his emotions. He was meant to be a stoic man; capable of whatever it took to get to the top of the food chain. “I’m looking for advice, not a fucking talk ‘bout feelings, Arthur.”

           “We were raised to uphold our promises, we pay our debts, Tom,” Arthur spoke with gentle insistence. But he didn’t want to rub salt in the wound. “S’pose you can’t force her to take anything, but don’t hurt to try one more time. If she says no, then you’ve done what you can.”

           “She looks a little like Grace,” Tommy admitted in a daze. He couldn’t get the image of Leah out of his head and his thoughts were in turmoil over that fact.

           Arthur sighed. “She in’t Grace.”

           “I know.” He spoke in a voice barely above a gravelly whisper. “I know.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

           Leah couldn’t bring herself to go back to the hotel. She needed a few days to clear her head without running the risk of seeing Tommy. She was afraid that if he returned, she wouldn’t be able to restrain herself. His request was a decision she needed to make with a sound mind, not in a lust-addled state.

           But, she still needed to work in order to survive. So the next night she went to the brothel owned by the woman she worked for.

           “What’re you doing here?” Madame Rosetta was a stern woman who only enjoyed a profit. A tall, hardened woman, she didn’t care much for the girls in her employ but tended to treat the Midland hotel ones better. Usually, because they made her more money and kept up a constant flow of wealthy patrons.

           Leah could hardly meet her cold gaze. “Was hoping to work here for a few nights.”

           “You givin’ up your spot?” She raised an eyebrow. “’Cause I’ve got other girls who’d kill ya to work there.”

           “N-no, no, I know. I just needed a break from the girls there.” She lied.

           Rosetta didn’t care about catty behavior between her girls as long as it didn’t interfere with her business. “Fine, two nights.” She relented and waved her away.

           It had been almost three years since Leah worked at the brothel. She recognized only a few faces around the front room and bar. There was always a high turnover of women. She’d gotten accustomed to the quiet and space she was granted between clients. Now she had to weave her way through the rowdy area. Drunk men spoke loudly to one another with girls laughing and hanging off them to score tips.

           It wasn’t long before a man grabbed Leah by the wrist. “Why don’t ya take me back to yer room, love?” The man was an average visitor of the den of sin. Middle-aged, working class, slightly untidy from a day’s work or a night’s drinking, and grabby.

           Leah forced a smile. Her stomach turned when she realized she would give anything to be alone with Tommy in that very moment. But she had nothing to give. So she led the man to the back rooms.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

           Tommy did his best to keep control of the reins. He needed to be sharp, quick thinking and acting swiftly on his feet. He needed to be one step ahead of his enemies and those he was suspicious of. But Leah wouldn’t leave his mind. After speaking to Arthur, he returned to the hotel to try again. But Billy informed him that she wasn’t in. Unsure of where she was, the man couldn’t offer Tommy any explanations. He tried again the night after that but Billy had the same news. Leah hadn’t shown up.

           It got to the point that Tommy was afraid for her safety and afraid she was intentionally avoiding him.

           He sent word out to a few men about her. Someone alerted that she’d been seen at Madame Rosetta’s brothel. So Tommy went there first. But again, he was informed she wasn’t there. Instead, the barmaid said she’d gone back to the hotel. Unbelievably frustrated, Tommy went back to the hotel for the third night in a row. He didn’t have time to chase one woman around London. But he felt like if he gave up, he’d never forget and would never be at peace with it.

~~~~~~~~~~~

           It was pouring as he left the car and walked up the hotel steps. He shook out his coat as he headed to the second floor.

           Billy saw the Shelby looking a little worse for wear. He hadn’t been sleeping, was surviving off of cigarettes and alcohol, and had about a million stressors poking at his side. Now he stood there, drenched from the rain and certainly intent on something.

           “Mr. Shelby, can I get you a whiskey?” Billy offered.

           “Can you send her out to me?” Tommy wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries. He was fed up with given the roundabout.

           His face wrinkled in concern. Not many people were fond of telling a Shelby news they didn’t want to hear and Billy had done it twice in the past two days. “I’m afraid she’s just gone back with another gentleman.”

           Exasperated and impatient beyond belief, Tommy started for the hallway. He rounded a corner and saw familiar blonde hair. “Leah.” He called with an unwavering assertion.

           She turned and her eyes widened. “Tommy…”

           “I need to speak with you.” His quiet voice was demanding simply because he was desperate. The thought of her had driven him up the wall and he couldn’t waste any more time.

           “C’mon.” The client intended for Leah protested. It didn’t matter; he was nothing but a pesky fly so Tommy ignored him.

           “I know what you said but-”

           “Tommy, please. Now’s not the time.” Shame settled over Leah. She longed for Tommy but she had to do what she needed to survive.

           “I had no idea where you were. Were fucking worried ‘bout you.”

           “For God’s sake.” The man threw his hands up in disbelief.

           “I was fine. Please, if you’d just wait…”

           Tommy continued to completely block out the presence of the client. “Just come talk to me.” His blue eyes were yearning.

           “Look, mate, you can have her after I’ve finished. That’s what she’s supposed to do.”

           A spark lit inside Tommy, boiling his blood in an instant. “Fucking what?” He whipped around to finally face the man.

           Either he didn’t recognize the Blinder or was unaware, so he went on without knowledge of the peril. “You and I probably couldn’t count how many times she takes it every night. I mean she is a whore.”

           Tommy snapped. He punched him so hard that the man’s head ricocheted off the nearby wall.

           Cursing and clutching his face, the man doubled over. “What the fuck?” He shouted.

           He went to deliver another well-deserved blow when Leah forcefully stepped in. She shoved Tommy’s chest to keep him at bay. “What the hell is your problem?” She cried.

           His anger was hard to pull back in once it was unleashed. Tommy never liked to let a man escape his grip. But he wouldn’t overpower Leah. He put pressure against her hands to try and coax her to step aside but she stood her ground.

           A few of the girls came out of the room to see what the commotion was. Billy had heard the shouting as well and rushed over. He hurried to usher the man down the hall and back to the lobby. The police wouldn’t be called. No one would speak a word about it.

           Except for Leah that is. She grabbed him by the chin to make him look at her. “Answer me!” She demanded. “What is your problem?”

           Tommy’s anger simmered and he swallowed hard. Her fingernails dug into his pale skin, forcing his eyes to meet hers. He didn’t speak.

           She let out a noise of frustration and opened the room that she was about to enter before he interrupted. “You’re making a scene.” She urged him inside.

           Tommy ran a hand through his still-damp hair and paced a little. “This is my last time, I promise.” He muttered.

           “What gives you the right to act that way?” She wouldn’t let him control the conversation like he so often did in his life. The woman crossed her arms over her chest.

           He looked at her with wounded eyes. She was beautiful in a dark blue dressing gown, her hair curled, and makeup done up. His insides twisted up and he wanted to drop to his knees for her. Wanted her to bring him back to that place. The high that nothing or no one could bring him.

           “I know what you said to Jonah, but-but he had no right to decide my life for me. I make my own decisions.” Leah’s arms tightened around herself and she couldn’t get him to speak. “You’ve gone and slept with every other girl here. You paid them but you didn’t care that they were with other men before and afterward. Now you suddenly care because you feel like you owe me something?” Her forehead wrinkled and her eyes watered. She wanted to be angry but there was only grief and confusion left in her body.

           Tommy stood stiff, like a soldier awaiting orders. “I need you.” He finally spoke. The words came out unusually weak. His initial reason for being there was thrown out the window. She wouldn’t accept money or help so maybe she’d accept him instead. A terrible alternative to money, in his opinion, but he was selfishly desperate for her.

           Her painted lips parted in disbelief. A tear slipped down her powdered cheeks. “What do you want with me, Tommy?” She begged for an answer.

           He didn’t know for sure. There were many reasons that came to mind but he wasn’t sure if they originated from his ego, his loneliness, or from the heart. He stepped towards her and tilted his chin down.

           “Answer me.” She whispered, her breath shakily passing over his neck.

           “I can’t.”

           Leah knew that despite the two days away from him, she hadn’t come to a conclusion about him. He was an enigma. Maybe it was something she couldn't figure out until she immersed herself in him. Took his hand and followed him into the obscure haze. So she kissed him.

           His lips weren’t desperate like they had been the last times. He moved slow and patiently. A hand cupped her cheek so tenderly it made more tears escape her brown eyes. It had been so long since someone showed her true affection. Tommy’s motives were unknown but there wasn’t denying the softness in his touch.

           He drew away and used his thumb to wipe the tears from her cheeks. “Let me take you away from here.”

           The idea sounded heavenly, escaping the hotel, the clients, Madame Rosetta. She could be free of the sickening feeling she got every time she woke up and faced her fate.

           “I can’t.”

           “You’re stubborn like me.” He didn’t move his hand, cradling her face. “I’ll leave you be if you wish, but just know I’ll never forget about you.” He shook his head. “You don’t know how numb I’ve been. Fucking every day…nothing. But m’not numb to you.”  

           Leah touched the scar on his cheek. She had been numb since she accidentally cut her finger while opening the letter of condolence for Jonah. Her knees didn’t feel the impact of the floor as she fell. Her ears blocked out her own screams. She didn’t feel the touch of other men. The burn of alcohol and taste of cigarettes on her lips. But she could feel Tommy. The way his fingers dug into her hips, his lips hot against hers, the heavenly sounds of his moans, and his weight against her. She felt his hand on her cheek.

           “You don’t want me. I’ve nothing to give you. My heart’s broken.” Her voice was thick with tears.

           Tommy reached for her hand and placed it over his chest. “Mine is too.”

           Her knees buckled when she felt his heart beating through his shirt. He supported her weight as she crumbled. “Take me away from here, Tommy.” She sobbed. “I can’t face it anymore. I can’t cope. I can’t…”

           Tommy hushed her softly and pulled her to his chest. “I will.” He promised.

Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla​ @giftofdreams​ @biba3434​ @kimmietea​

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#tommy shelby #tommy shelbyxoc #tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky fookin blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction #fanfiction #ofc #oc #angst #fluff

[yue-muffin]

Time Raiders (2016)

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

In my quest to consume the entirety of the DMBJ franchise available in English, I have decided to start with the non-canon movie because at least this one has an ending, unlike the train wreck that is Reboot/Chongqi’s pacing. I will probably be bitter about that for all eternity, but I digress. I heard good things about the movie from the bird app, and as I am a Pingxie shipper at heart, I decided to finally watch this one.

P A R T O N E

The cut-in animation to the title was gorgeous, I do so love the qilin in every adaptation. It’s particularly striking here with the gold outline and geometric, maze-like lines. It looks like the cards at the very beginning were being arranged in the image of this qilin.

My first reaction upon seeing white people in a dmbj adaptation is: oh no, the English, but I was pleasantly surprised to hear perfect English that matches the actor’s lips! What a miracle, haha. I remember The Lost Tomb 2 being the worst for how many lines had to be in English, sob.

These look so cool. I see we start off with a good old “seeking immortality” antagonist, and an obsessed collector who has dedicated his whole life to this apparently. As usual, he is a scumbag threatening the locals.

The old guy’s accented English is also better than TLT2, ha. The breathy/nasal quality is not at all uncommon. I don’t know what language the locals speak though.

Me, immediately: Zhang Qiling already??

I know he appears in rather early in TLT1, TLT2, and Reboot/Chongqi, but he’s so often mysteriously absent or stuck behind a gate (or in Reboot’s case, put on a bus) that I got excited, ok.

My favorite Zhang Qilings are the cold-looking pretty boy types in terms of my mental image of the character, but this one is also very easy on the eyes and as usual, unfazed in the face of danger coming at him with a knife. This is the only series in which I’m not bothered by the constant cast change between adaptations (unlike Ever Night), I suppose since it’s been this way from the start.

I’m interested in seeing how the backstories differ from canon. It’s actually rather interesting that this is pretty much an official AU, like that’s kind of wild as a concept. I’m used to the late 1990s/early 2000s anime adding new characters and changing plot points and endings everywhere, but Time Raiders takes it a step further.

Zhang Qiling being an ultra-competent badass who doesn’t even need a weapon to take the bad guys down never changes, no matter the universe. He steamrolls everyone, no questions asked.

Did he- he break the blade with his bare hands hahaha. Oh, yup, and a Zhang Qiling with a weapon is even more dangerous. I see those severed fingers. Such a good fight scene and we’re not even 5 minutes into the movie.

I love how he could have simply fired the arrow while he was still on the statue, then jumped down, but he had to be Extra and fire while he was jumping off haha.

It- the divine piece was right there?? By “beneath the statue” I would have thought it would at least be under it, not in a convenient little slot on the side of the altar area haha. So Zhang Qiling’s mission is to destroy the divine piece(s)? To, um, save the world apparently.

WHO ARE YOU? What an excellent question to ask a Zhang Qiling (and that staring into the mirror shot, too.)… I wonder if this one even knows - it’s possible he doesn’t have his signature amnesia here.

Wait- a gate? I think it’s in a cave or something in the novels, but gates have significance in DMBJ. The cinematography is really nice in these mountain shots. I know nothing about film, but I like the shots in the snowy mountains.

This Zhang Qiling knows and practices martial arts on screen! You would think he’d pull some moves normally, but in the drama-adaptations he tends to just beat people up as efficiently as possible. Sometimes with his sword. Other times he just fights ‘em. I have to admit Jing Boran looks excellent going through some forms. He nailed the force and power underlying every movement, then exploding outward with a strike. I do like the impression it leaves.

I, on the other hand, am an absolute noodle and look ridiculous when I do martial arts.

What in the world is happening in this flashback scene with the weird CGI qilin. Ah, it’s when he received his tattoo. That was super dramatic.

Wushanju is looking real edgy with the heavy iron gate on the interior, haha.

He is puzzling (ha!) over those cards so intensely you’d think it was a thousand piece puzzle instead haha. You’re almost there! Just a few more to finish the qilin!

Aw, is this our Wu Xie? Haha his facial hair is- hm. But I love his voice it’s so soft. Really fits that “Mr. Naive” vibe.

Is that. Is that the author of the series. I found out that he makes cameos in almost all (if not all of) the adaptations!

NO. ONLY I CAN FINISH THE PUZZLE. HANDS OFF BUDDY.

Why are there so many pigeons in here. Who let them inside.

A writer, who came to hear his story and turn it into a novel- HA yup it’s the author.

“This should be a story about me and him.”

Ahh I’m loving it already. DMBJ is the ultimate bromance story. Fair warning, I do ship Pingxie so my shipper goggles will be on throughout the movie. But even without shipping, you do have to admit the series is a bromance underneath all the mystery – between the Iron Triangle, between Wu Xie and Xiaoge.

This Wu Xie is a photographer and that is sort of adorable. Already there’s a theme emerging of needing to record events and telling stories. Interesting that he wants to turn his memories into a novel to record his experiences, because otherwise he’s afraid those memories might turn into a mere story in his own head. Wu Xie, that’s a worrying mindset.

Those ancient mask things always make me crack up, I don’t know why.

Ooh, background about Wu Xie’s birth into the Wu family. I’ve never read up to the part in the books where they go into his place in the family in detail. To be fair, his grandfather had three sons and only one of them had any kids – and Wu Xie is his parents’ only child. So, he becomes the only one who can really carry on the family legacy. Aw, I really like seeing his extended family present though! In the dramas we only ever get either his Second or Third Uncle, and he rarely ever mentions his parents even though they’re alive.

And there’s his namesake! The origin of his nickname, and the irony once the story gets into the Sha Hai timeline.

Wu Xie was a bit of a rascal as a kid, haha. To be fair he has a pretty sharp tongue in the novels and is mostly a pure cinnamon roll in the early dramas.

Little Wu Xie in a suit is so adorable. Nooo kid don’t go into locked up abandoned places. He’s already so adventurous haha. Seems that it’s not actually abandoned judging by all the lights on, but.

UH. MASKED MAN BEHIND YOU. I think he wants that item back. This is why you don’t go into abandoned places, kid. He definitely does not learn his lesson though. Also why are you still holding onto that thing, just drop it, I think he wants it back.

Haha he kept one of the coins.

WOAH. Every month someone in your family dies?? That’s uh- sort of traumatic. Also that would be a really good first line for a novel…Just saying. I do love the singing though.

Oh, the Nine Families exist in this universe too! They even give a quick explanation about the ranking system.

Oh yeah, I love how Wu Xie is such a nerd for all this knowledge of ancient texts and tombs. And YES HE FINALLY DOCUMENTS STUFF FOR ONCE.

Uncle Three looked dead for a moment there, scared the shit out of me too.

VAMPIRE MOTHS? Oh I hate bugs I would not be okay lol. WHOOPS. You guys are really good at reading ancient texts on the fly lol.

That’s the mask he has in the beginning of the film, isn’t it. NO DON’T TOUCH THINGS IN TOMBS. AHHH. So you just put it on your face?? Well that was a stupidly simple way to open the door. I’m guessing the creator didn’t care if anyone opened it.

This guy just severed his own arm, ok…and how many years later is his hand still clinging to it? UH. THIS IS WHY YOU DON’T TOUCH THINGS IN TOMBS. Then he proceeds to steal the box thing.

Ah the white dude again. I am so happy there is GOOD ENGLISH though haha.

Oh, hi Zhang Qiling. Just hanging out on a rooftop I see.

He looks so melancholy. Someone give him a hug! This adaptation makes him more human, less stoic robotic superhuman, I noticed. You rarely see him eat or drink anything in the other adaptations, but here he’s just chilling on a rooftop having some drinks haha. It’s ok. I love all the Zhang Qilings.

WHAT THE HELL, LIGHTNING? What the hell is this high tech machinery haha. Eight days? Coincidentally eight days after sitting in a tomb for how many years.

That is a very Extra bookcase to hold a book that apparently has ALL the secrets.

WOW that is a fancy notebook. It looks so beat up in the other versions haha. In this one, it even gets its own hidden shelf in a giant portable bookshelf!

The props for this franchise are so cool and detailed. I always wish they would show more of the creative process in the BTS, I’m such a nerd for that stuff. The Longest Day in Chang’an was pretty good at that, which is half of my enjoyment of that show haha!

I’m also still pleasantly surprised they bothered to incorporate other languages. I’m not sure what the Snake Lady and the old man in the beginning were speaking, but at least the English is good.

I can’t believe they worked in a steampunk chastity belt this movie went all out, huh. Also with these weirdly high tech structures and lightning and moving tomb structures.

And all the pieces start coming together! So that’s why it’s believed they hold the secret to immortality. What a steampunk-looking key.

Is that a writing desk??

Oh, they’re getting a team together to go tomb raiding! Ha, forget money! You may or may not end up dying on this adventure, so who cares about money, right.

He’s so cute standing there with his camera. Look at the little smile as he watches everything going on!

It’s a desk and a storage container?? Oh, there are ~qualifications~ to going on tomb raiding. Makes sense. That is the oddest looking sword.

Must appreciate Zhang Qiling’s fingers in every adaptation. They look very strong and steady here. Let’s not talk about the slooow trailing across the handle.

Wow did you really just throw sand in his face. Have we not learned not to mess with Zhang Qiling after he trounced that first guy who attacked him. I love the fight scenes so much after the bore-fest that was Reboot/Chongqi’s second half of Season 1.

Super pretty, but why did it cause him to stop and stare in the middle of the fight?

This is like a Final Fantasy sword haha. Also I think you should stop while you’re ahead, why did you think a table would stop this dude. (Hey, it’s Da Kui! He was in the novel but not TLT1.).

It’s HERE. Their first meeting. How did he know the coin was on that cord? It wasn’t visible, I don’t think. But uh. That was a hilarious move on his part, he is so Extra?? He just casually flicks the necklace off with his big-ass sword and it drops into his hand. Then casually goes “oh, here, you dropped this” as if he wasn’t the one responsible for it coming off in the first place!!

HERE IT COMES. The unnecessarily long eye contact. Pingxie in every adaptation needs a Staring Into Your Eyes scene.

Real smooth.

Ahh this Wu Xie is such a cutie. He’s like a puppy.

WHAT. Third Uncle, I can’t believe you let him tag along so easily haha. In the beginning he was scolding Wu Xie to never get involved in tomb business, then what happens? They’re going tomb raiding!!

Next Up: to the tomb we go! This can’t end badly or anything what are you talking about.

#daomubiji #time raiders #dmbj #盗墓笔记 #image heavy post #perhaps don't view on mobile #in which i lose my mind for 2 hours #the muffin's liveblogging adventures

[super-trouper]

Wayhaven Week 2020 Day 4

Pairing: Felix/F!Detective (Grace Buckley) Prompt: Tranquil/Thrill Note: 90% of this is just my detective fawning over Felix and you know what? It’s what he deserves.

--

Adam would be proud of him, Grace thinks, amused, as she watches Felix frown in concentration, fully absorbed in his task. He’s taken to the new information like a fish to water and Grace’s heart swells with affection for the vampire at her side. The two have spent the entire afternoon with her explaining everything and running him through the basics, and she struggles to think of an instance she’s seen him more focused on learning; it’s inexplicably adorable.

“Babe!” Felix jumps suddenly, jolting her out of her thoughts. “Look at that, my Pidove evolved!”

Then again, she doubts Adam would approve the focus of that intense concentration is Pokemon, of all things.

This raises another curious thought if Adam even knows what Pokemon is, but that’s a question for another day. Right now, Grace can’t really pay attention to anything but Felix, which, in general, seems to be the case quite often. She shifts around to prop her chin on his shoulder and glances down at her old 3DS in his hands.

“Wait, you have a shiny Tranquill?”

He does his best to shift his head around and look at her. “What’s a shiny Tranquill?”

They haven’t covered the topic of shinies yet, mostly because Grace didn’t think it was essential information, but now here Felix is, with a shiny on his very first time playing the game. She would be more surprised, really, but it only serves to confirm something she’s known for a while now; Felix is no ordinary man in a way that has nothing to do with the fact he isn’t human.

She can’t stop herself from pressing a quick kiss to his cheek and basks in the way a familiar grin spreads on his lips.

“I think I like that whole shiny Tranquill thing.” He winks at her, or at least does his best to with their faces so close together, before adding, “No, but really. What is it?”

“Well, basically, a shiny is just a regular pokemon with different colouring. They’re usually pretty rare, though. Less than a 1% chance to get one.”

Felix’s eyes gleam. “I guess I’m just that lucky then,” he says, and as he meets her eye once again, his gaze so warm and affectionate, it’s hard not to think he means more than just Pokemon. Grace can’t stifle a smile.

“Keep it up and you’ll be the very best in no time at all,” she reassures, referencing the show’s theme song. They listened to it earlier and Felix seems to enjoy it very much, if their impromptu karaoke sessions throughout the afternoon are of any indication.

They continue playing for some time, with Grace’s head remaining propped up on his shoulder, her arms wrapped around him. Despite her excitement over the existence of the supernatural world, she finds she enjoys those quiet, mundane moments with Felix just as much. Not that moments with him can usually qualify as ‘quiet’, but his voice is quickly becoming one of her favourite sounds so it’s not like she minds.

The game seems to be going well too. By the time he reaches Slateport City, Felix has assembled one of the cutest teams she’s ever seen, which makes the following exchange inevitable, really, when she thinks of it.

“Wait, contests? You never mentioned that!” he says as if she’s committed a personal offence against him and in retrospect, yeah, she thinks she should’ve figured he’d be interested in that.

“They��re not really a thing in most of the other games,” she admits somewhat sheepishly. “I guess I just sorta forgot.”

“They’re not? Why not? I wanna show off my adorable pokemon.”

“To be honest, contests were pretty crappy back in the day. It was just piling accessories on top of your pokemon and hoping for the best.” Felix’s expression tells her her explanation’s done nothing to discourage him and Grace laughs. “Trust me, it sounds a lot more fun than it is.”

“But in this one it’s better?”

“Definitely. And you know, I don’t think I ever collected all the ribbons in any of my playthroughs.”

Naturally, Felix absolutely cannot move on until he has all of them. His journey to becoming the very best is quickly sidelined in favour of becoming top coordinator and honestly, as long as he’s having fun Grace is happy. Late afternoon seamlessly bleeds into early evening, but neither of them pays any particular attention to the change outside, much too wrapped up in their little bubble of joy and casual domesticity.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Grace thinks about how she could never enjoy moments like these with Bobby. He never really showed interest in any of her hobbies, much less tried them out himself. And she’s not in the habit of thinking about Bobby, usually, but with how much he’s inserted himself back into her life as of late, it seems inevitable not to notice how much he falls short when compared to her new boyfriend.

Boyfriend. The mere word is enough to send her heart into a flutter and Grace snuggles deeper into Felix at the feeling.

“This is taking so long,” he complains as he fails to win another ribbon. “How did Chaz beat me? My Tranquill is way cuter than his Mychoke.”

“Machoke,” Grace corrects with a smile. “Why don’t you make some pokeblocks and feed them to Tranquill? That should give you an extra edge in the first round.”

Felix takes her advice and in the next contest, he manages to beat Chaz by a few points.

“Ha!” He pulls away from Grace in order to fully turn around and face her. His grin is wide, his amber eyes practically sparkling, and Grace already feels an answering smile tug at her lips, a subconscious response to his excitement. “Gracie, you’re a genius.”

“I do take great pride in my Pokemon knowledge.” She laughs but pulls him in for a quick kiss anyway. At the very least, it’s supposed to be a quick kiss but once their lips touch, she can’t help but get distracted and the kiss lingers.

A part of her marvels at how no matter how many times they kiss, it still never fails to give her butterflies. She doesn’t consider herself particularly sappy or overly romantic, but with Felix, everything just feels more meaningful and exciting.

“We should do that more often,” he grins at her once they part.

“What, kiss?”

“Well, yeah, definitely that too. But I meant more the whole ‘spending time together without crazy killers or deadly illnesses lurking around’.”

Once again she smiles, something she seems to do a lot around Felix. “I’d like that. And technically, we still haven’t even had an official first date.”

He blinks as though the thought has only now occurred to him. “Let’s go on a date then.”

“Right now?”

“Why not?”

Well. No time like the present, Grace supposes and nods along, giddiness rising in her chest. “Okay. Sure. Let’s go on a date.”

A familiar cheeky grin spreads on Felix’s lips and makes his entire face light up; Grace is pretty sure her heart skips a beat.

“This is going to be the best date ever,” he says and she has no doubt he’s right.

--

Tranquill: a dual-type Normal/Flying Pokémon that evolves from Pidove starting at level 21.

@otomefandomevents

#wayhaven week 2020 #felix hauville #mc: grace #the biggest reach yet as far as the prompts go i'm sorry

[ralfstrashcan]

Fire Messages

A (long long long, let's not talk about it) while ago the dear @toughpaperround​ asked me about my thoughts on fire messages... and here they finally are.

Like most things in Shadowhunters fire messages come in two styles (other examples are portals, swords and runes) because at some point they experienced a random visual makeover. Both designs raise different questions and I'll get to those in a moment. First though it's interesting to note that the appearance of a fire message doesn't seem to depend on whether it's created by a shadowhunter or a warlock. On that note, are other downworlders able to create fire messages as well? Since shadowhunters operate them with their steles and warlocks with magic? I guess seelies should be able to as well since they also have magic (though they seem to prefere their nature-birds-leaves-whispering-on-the-wind way of communication). But what about vampires and werewolves? I don't recall either of thoses species ever sending a fire message on-screen, though it might have been mentioned at some point that one of them did, and I forgot. In any case I find it intriguing/ridiculous that fire messages look the same regardless of who creates them. Angelic energy and demonic magic don't really operate in similar ways so why would their fire messages look alike? Distinctive appearances like with the portals would make more sense.

Moving on to the first style! As far as I remember this style can only be spied once in the series, namely at the end of 1x06 when Izzy breaks things off with Meliorn

Which, now that I'm thinking about it, isn't that the shadow world equivalent of breaking up via text? Rude, Izzy. Anyway! The rune she draws at the bottom of the paper

is, as the trained eye immediately sees

Next, the paper goes up in flames

and Izzy lets go of it so she doesn't burn her fingers. Not a trace of the paper is left afterwards.

I think it's pretty safe to assume that the fire message burns into existence in midair wherever Meliorn is at this moment in time. Which... is probably the seelie realm? So can fire messages just travel between realms no big deal? Imagine the possibilities! Asmodeus could be bothering Magnus all day! Lilith could be terrorizing all Clave members via fire message harassment! This is hilarious XD

I have questions though! 1) How does the fire message know a) who the recipient is and b) where the recipient is? Canon never addresses or indicates either of those things so there's literally nothing to go off of. Re a): To me it seems most reasonable that the sender focuses on the person they want the message to receive while sending the message off via rune or magic. It's unlikely that writing the name on the paper alone determines the recipient because i) there exist people who share names and ii) you couldn't mention anyone in your fire message without accidentally cc-ing them, which, impractical and awkward. So intent seems the most plausible thing. Which in turn begs the question if you can mass-message people if you think of more than one person while sending? Probably not. In canon Magnus messages each warlock individually about that ritual he wants to try in 3x09. Might have been for courtesy's sake, so he can address every warlock individually with name but seems unlikely since he was under time pressure. Aside from that this would imply miraculous paper replication and physics says no. Re b): No way. This makes no sense whatsoever except when fire message magic is the ultimate omniscient might that can track anyone anytime anywhere. And if that power really existed in the world then how come no one has used it to currupt everything? Surely if you can access this pool of knowledge to send innocent little breakup messages you could find a way to use it for grand evil as well? I find it hard to believe that no one's tried and succeeded so far. Just look at how much effort shadowhunters put into tracking people all the time! They'd be stupid to waste their resources like that if there was a way to instantly-know the whereabouts of someone. Anyway, this is utter bs and just like the hp owls all over again and I simply refuse.

2) Who can you send fire messages to? My knee-jerk answer would be to anyone you know, both personally and more generally in the sense that you are aware of their existence. You focus on them while sending the message, bam, they get it. But. Spam. Spam is a thing. Do you have any idea how much hate mail and general pranks higher-ups would get if they could be (anonymously!) addressed by anyone? Magnus probably had a whole phase where he did nothing but trashtalk shadowhunters who pissed him off XD I read in this post (which is the one toughpaperround sent my way and which I'm kinda answering with this) the possibility that you can only fire message people you've either met in real life before or who you've established some kind of fire-messaging-you-is-okay-connection – kinda like exchanging phone numbers. Everyone has a phone but you can only call someone whose number you have. You can even hand-wave your way through issue b) and claim that the fire message tracks the recipient through that connection and that's how it can find them no matter where they are. I've thought about it for a while and while I think this is the most logical explanation I don't think it makes sense in-universe for how fire messages are used, or for what the purpose of a fire messages really is. Phones are inarguably more practical because you don't need an extra pen and paper to send off a message. So, why would someone use a fire message instead of a phone? Well, either the person you want to reach doesn't have a phone (*cough* Meliorn *cough*) or the message is so important and time-sensitive that you need the other person to know right now and while you can ignore a text or a call, you can lose your phone or it can die, it's kinda difficult to miss a burning piece of paper flying in your face. Fire messages are like extreme emergency phone calls. And for those it would be high-key impractical if you could only send them to someone you have already met previously. (Of course this is just speculation and doesn't even make sense historically since fire messages were around long before phones and likely were the only means of communication then and not just reserved for emergencies (or maybe they were since paper and ink was precious back then?!). And of course determining the nature of a thing by going 'It would be most practical if it was like this' is highly unscientific. Anyway.) Honestly, my personal take on this is still that you can send a fire message to anyone and the show simply ignoring everything that this implies (aka Alec getting at least 10 lewd fire messages per day from secret admirers) because it wasn't relevant to the plot.

Leaving behind questions that apply to fire messages generally this last one is design-specific. 3) To what exactly is the teleportation, that clearly happens here, limited? The paper, the ink. Uh-huh. What if you glue something to the paper? For example, idk, a GPS tracker? Would that allow you to learn the location of the person you messaged? Probably not, or they would have been very stupid not to do that with Valentine. Even if you could only message someone you have met in person and/or established a special fire message connection with there are still enough Circle members around in S1 who surely had his fire message phone number. (Or did he destroy the connection? Can you fire-message-block someone you no longer want any attachments to?) What happens if you fire message someone who's dead? Does the fire message hover over their grave for the rest of eternity? We'll never know. I'll allow that there is special fire message paper and special fire message ink that can teleport. Anything else tacked on would be left behind. Paper and ink could even be extra-charmed so they can pass through dimensions or whatever. Still sounds fake – because i) how would you spell paper so it can pass any ward (Magnus at some point messages Jem who's probably chilling in the Silent City or something) and ii) if there's a way to charm paper and ink so it can be teleported, why limit yourself to those? Why not put that same magic on your GPS tracker and you're ready to go? – but I tried okay. Whatever, special fire message paper and ink grow on special trees in Idris and their special teleportation magic can't be replicated. There, mystery solved.

The second style fire messages acquire is both more and less logically pleasing. It's more logically pleasing because it eliminates the whole teleportation issue since apparently the fire message just flies from sender to recipient but sadly this creates its own set of issues, first of all how tf does the fire message fly from sender to recipient? Does it have eyes? How does it navigate the streets by itself? What about the secrecy the shadow world allegedly tries to uphold? It also doesn't solve the GPS tracker problem (if anything it makes it worse) because who's stopping you from sending a nice little message to Valentine and then just, following the flying message to his secret hideout?

The journey itself isn't unproblematic either. How quick are those things flying? In 3x06 exactly 54 seconds pass between Magnus sending off his message to Jem and receiving an answer. So in less than a minute the message flew to Jem, he read it, he composed an answer, and it made the way back. No wonder these messages are burning at the edges if they're so quick. (Yes, that was sarcastic.) They also don't seem to slow down when approaching their intended target. Magnus even pushes Clary out of the way because of it.

This is so confusing. So the fire message can navigate through Magnus's apartment no problem but it would have chopped Clary's head off because she was in the way? Was Magnus just being dramatic? I mean I'd totally buy that on any given day, but the situation was a bit too serious for that especially because it isn't treated as a joke to lighten the mood but just like Magnus casually pulling Clary out of danger because that's what he always does. It makes no sense whatsoever. This also begs another question, since fire messages seem to seek out their target quite vehemently. If you're locked in an air-tight room, could you send a fire message to someone, and the fire message on its pursuit to fulfill its duty could help you create a crack in the walls? Could you actually break out via fire message? What if you grab the paper real tight? Could you fly out of a canyon on a fire message? Now, on to the last part of the fire message's journey: the landing. How. How do you catch something that moves so quickly instead of just swatting it away? In the post I mentioned before someone wrote that catching stuff like that works on auto pilot if you have the practice and I'll just take your word for it... but what if you don't have the practice? Personally I'm shit at catching shit. I'd get smacked in the face by 95% of the fire messages sent my way. And considering the speed and the sharp edges of the fire messages that can't be healthy. My poor face. Why do I say the fire message would slap my face and not docilely settle into my palm? Because that's what I honestly believe. I think if you fail to catch a fire message it just flops in your face and sticks there (that should also wake you up if you're asleep, lol) because I mean, look at those trajectories.

Mind that the fire message stays on its initial course even after Magnus / Alec / Izzy moves their hand to a position to catch it. That’s because it wasn't aiming for the hand. It was aiming for the face.

It only gets weirder from here on out.

Remember 3x07? Imogen gets stabbed by Possessed!Jace and uses her last moments to notify Alec of Jace's whereabouts (instead of, y'know, activating her healing rune which takes two seconds, sending the message after and keep on living. SIGH). Fair enough, but the thing is this

Where's the paper? Where's the ink?

What is happening? What is she doing there?!

And then-- and then--

Yeah Alec, I'm as shocked as you are. Where tf did that paper (and presumably ink for writing) come from?! Can shadowhunters suddenly create matter from nothing?? Physics is crying in the corner!! I have so many questions!!

#ps cleophas does the exact same thing in s2 ep too lazy to look up i think 7 or 8 #shadowhunters #magnus bane #alec lightwood #isabelle lightwood #clary fray #imogen herondale #magic #musings

[ravenforce]

Take Care of You

Requested by: @zhellas

Prompt: The Lena Luthor that could come first is that Lena meets the Reader during... something, and starts acting like the Reader's sugar mama (like a sugar daddy, but female): Hiring them on as a personal "assistant", buying them nice things, etc. Can be NSFW if you want.

Pairing/s: Lena Luthor x Reader

Word Count: 1804

Warning/s: None as I’m a really shitty smut writer, so I avoid it. LMAO.

A/N: I’m sorry this took a while, my brain went to sleep for. I’m also not sure what I did here, I’m sorry if it sucks.

***

A couple of months after starting work at L-Corp you've officially moved into your new apartment and is settling down in NC nicely. With you on Lena's team, her work in the lab has been dramatically reduced for which she's thankful for; she can actually go home at a decent hour. Like today, she finished her paperwork and emails earlier than she expected. So she decided to come down the lab and was pleasantly surprised to see you sitting on your chair and staring at the ceiling.

"Burning the midnight oil, Y/N?" she asked as a way to announce her presence. For your part, she was impressed you didn't startle and fall off.

"Yes. I'm just thinking," you said before looking at her while she's leaning a foot away from you on your table.

The moment your eyes met, Lena couldn’t help but reach out and touch your face. You shivered as she runs a finger against your cheeks, down to your jaw but held her eye all the way.

"You look tired," you whispered, mouth suddenly dry. She smiled at you. Even though you work for her, Lena considers you her friend first and she cares about you.

"Let's go home?" She asked.

You nodded and reached for the hand she still has on your cheeks and walked out of the lab together. You've been skirting around your feelings for each other ever since you met. Between being new in the city, and becoming her employee there just doesn't seem to be a good time to tell her but you're exhausted, so when she didn't drove you to your apartment and asked you to just stay over you didn't question her.

You didn't question her when she helped you undress, and pushed you towards her bed. You didn't question her when she wrapped her body next to you, wrapping you in her warmth. You didn't question her when she planted a soft, quick kiss good night in the corner of your mouth. You didn't question her when it became a regular occurrence - her picking you up at the lab and staying over her penthouse. You didn't question her about intentions, feelings, and endgames; you simply just relish on the attention Lena's giving.

***

It worked for well for a while, Lena bathing you with her attention and care. She doesn't care about labels, she wants you and she knows you feel the same way. She likes you, and she's not shy about expressing that the best way she knows how.  She doesn't care if it's way too extra to fly you to Cuba in her private jet after you spent a week coup up in the lab finishing a certain project of hers. She doesn't mind buying you that designer dress that probably the cost of your whole year rent for the L-Corp gala where she asked you to be her date.

Of course, sometimes it bothers you how much money Lena is spending on you. You tried to complain about it a lot and every time she makes a purchase without consulting you.

"Lee, seriously?" You asked as you hand back the key to a new car she just gave you.

"You don't like it? We can get you a different one," she answered, brows furrowed.

"No, it's not that. I just don't want people to think I'm with you because of your money," you explained with a small frown.

She traced the pad of her thumb across your lips. "I don't care what everyone thinks. I know our truth."

She pulled you in for a brief kiss that didn't fail to still take your breath away. "Just let me take care of you," she said leaning her forehead against yours.

***

The only downside of not being officially together are the people who think they can flirt with you. As to why she still hasn't made it official is beyond her. Maybe it's the notion at the back of her head that you're too good for her? That someone as good as you deserve someone better than a Luthor? Or the idea that something as good as what you have together can be ripped away from her? Whatever it is, she realized she ought to have made it official between the two of you so people can back the fuck away.

But she hasn't, so she's left gritting her teeth as she watches someone flirt with you again at the alien bar. You were both there with the Super Friends when a gorgeous brunette with legs for days sidled next to you while waiting for your drinks. Lena seethed in her seat as she watches the girl slipped a paper (with her number no doubt) on the front pocket of your shirt before you walked back to the table. Lena frowned when you didn't discard the paper and ignored you all night after that; you were oblivious and baffled when she ignored your messages for days after.

You thought that working with Lena means she couldn't avoid you but you couldn't be more wrong. Lena, it seems, has been doing everything in her power to stir clear of you. You wouldn't even know Lena left for Switzerland if it wasn't for Alex casually and accidentally mentioning it over lunch at Noonan's, which promptly earned her an elbow from Kara. You thought of asking them for advice but you don't know the extent of their knowledge about your relationship with Lena.

When you got back to the lab that afternoon, you wondered if it's over between the two of you. By the third week, you just stopped trying. You love her, you do but damn it if you would allow her to drag you along any further. You deserve an explanation, you deserve to know what you did wrong and a chance to fix it instead of the silent treatment.

By the fourth week, Lena has already processed her feelings and is ready to talk. She summoned you in her office the moment she landed back from Switzerland.

"Ms. Luthor, you asked for me?" You greeted formally. She bristled at your very professional tone, and you never called her by her last name before. But she's a bigger idiot if she didn't anticipate your anger. So she came prepared with your favorite flowers (peonies), chocolates and a new watch from Geneva.

"Hi," she said as she rounded her desk and leaned in front of it.

You didn't respond, you just continued staring at her. When she met your eye, she fought the urge to frown. You look worn down and hasn't seen a bed in weeks.

"What happened? You look exhausted," she asked clearly concerned.

"I got busy," you cut yourself from explaining what you've been up to.

You wanted to tell her you've been helping other R&D projects at L-Corp to keep yourself from coming home early and having to deal with your murky thoughts. You wanted to tell her you couldn't sleep in your own bed because she misses you there, so you come to Alex's and share a bed with her and Kelly. God bless those two for looking after you this past month or you would have died of forgetting when you need to eat or sleep.

"Do you actually need something from me? I have actual work to do," you sighed out.

"I..uhm...I just wanted to give you these," she said, mentioning towards the package on her table.

You gave her a small smile, "I'm sorry Ms. Luthor, I can't accept that." You stood up and promptly walked towards her door. She frowned, she messed up really bad with you and she doesn't know what to do.

***

Turn out she does know what to do. After your disastrous encounter at her office today, Lena went directly to your apartment bearing your favorite Chinese takeout, a bottle of wine, and a sheepish smile. When you opened the door, Lena was the last person you expected there.

"Can I come in? I have Chinese," she said in lieu of a greeting and pulling her hand up to show the food bags.

You opened the door wider to let her in, and she went directly to the counter to set down the food. Her familiarity with where everything is in your kitchen makes your heart ache. You're mad and still a little hurt but you miss her. When she finished plating, she found you staring at her.

"Come here," she beckoned softly while sitting on the dining table.

You squinted at her. God knows you tried to resist but the urge to be near her again is overwhelming. You took slow steps towards her, and you didn't stop until you're standing between her parted legs. She looked up at you, eyes soft and genuine.

"I'm sorry love," she whispered, arms coming to wrap around your waist.

"What happened?" You asked as you unconsciously ran your hand through her dark tresses.

She sighed heavily and explained to you how she got jealous when someone flirts with you but couldn't do anything because no one knows you're together. She explained how she felt undeserving of you, of how she felt you might be better off without a Luthor, how you deserve more than a Luthor. She explained how she decided to stay away but clearly couldn't because she misses you. She explained how there was not a day where she didn't think of you.

"I love you," Lena admitted. You were shocked she said it first.

"I want to take care of you for as long as you'll have me," she continued.

Your heart rate picking up. Is she? You thought. "Lee, are you?"

"No, no baby. At least not yet," she answered, smiling hopefully at you. "But I'd like you to move in with me," she continued and you gasped in surprise.

"Why?" It's not that you didn't want to live with her, you do. She gave you an exasperated look.

"Look, I love your place but the penthouse has a better security feature and amenities. If you move in with me, you can save by carpooling," she explained in her best CEO voice. She's selling it hard, and you can't help but laugh.

"Fine, but I'm paying the bills and the groceries."

Lena knitted her brows together. "Just the groceries, and then we have a deal." You rolled your eyes at her. There's no winning with her when she sets her mind into something.

"Deal," you said, extending your hand. She laughed before she took your hand and tug you against her.

"Seal it with a kiss love," she said turning her head upwards so you could have full access on her mouth. You chuckled at her silliness before leaning down and kissing her soft lips.

#supergirl #supergirl imagine #dcu #dcu imagine #lena luthor #lena kieran luthor #lena luthor x reader #lena luthor x you #lena luthor imagine #raven writes

[stevethehairington]

45 from that kiss prompt thing with Gallavich would be amazing

hii! first of all thank you so much or sending this in, i appreciate it SO much!! the second i saw which prompt 45 was omg i opened a doc and the words started spilling out, that was a GREAT one to pick! 

i may have gotten a little carried away writing it, so it’s a lot longer than i expected it to be at first haha. but hey that just means more gallavich for you to read! :)

i have posted it to ao3, though, which you can find the link to here. otherwise, here is is under the keep reading! happy reading!

It’s late when they get back. It’s late, and the house is dark, which means everyone must be asleep. But his slumbering siblings are the last thing on Ian’s mind as he and Mickey stumble into the quiet house, connected at the mouth.

The door goes flying open, banging into the wall hard enough to make the preexisting doorknob sized crater even larger, and Ian pushes Mickey across the threshold, sticking his foot out behind him to kick the door closed. He walks Mickey backwards, sure enough in the knowledge that Mickey knows the layout of his house well enough that he doesn’t need to bother giving navigation his full attention— not that either of them would even if they did need to. Ian’s too lost in the warmth of Mickey’s mouth and the slide of his tongue against his own to worry about anything else.

Despite knowing their way around the house, there’s still no way for them to anticipate the whereabouts of the constantly moving stuff in the house, and Mickey nearly trips backwards over a stray boot lying in the middle of the hall.

Ian’s hands are already around Mickey’s waist, luckily, and his grip only tightens, effectively pulling Mickey closer and keeping him upright.

It’s not enough to keep Mickey’s own arms from flying up to loop around Ian’s neck to steady himself, though. But once Mickey’s regained his balance, Ian feels a rush of satisfaction when Mickey keeps them there, and even lets one hand drift up into Ian’s hair, cradling the back of his head as he kisses him deeper.

Undeterred by the near trip up, Mickey sidesteps the boot and Ian kicks it aside. They don’t make it very far before Mickey’s bumping into the wall, letting out a gruff noise as his shoulder connects with an unused coat hook. To correct for it, he ends up crowding forward into Ian’s space, forcing him back into the door.

Ian hits the door with a dull thud, but then Mickey plasters himself up against Ian’s front and cradles his jaw between his hands as he kisses him within an inch of his life— at least that’s what it feels like to Ian. And, god, does he love that. The way Mickey kisses him. It may have taken a while for Mickey to warm up to even the idea of kissing Ian, but once he had and once he’d taken that leap, he’d been all in. Every kiss with Mickey simultaneously feels like the very first one and the last one they may ever share.

They kiss against the front door for a little while, lazy and content. But Ian gets impatient, and he surges forward again, desperate to move this to somewhere they can get horizontal— though it isn’t as though he’s opposed to fucking Mickey against the door if it really comes down to it.

But when he moves to shove Mickey through the second door leading to the family room, Mickey’s back connects roughly with the closed door, and the knob jams into his lower back, hard.

Mickey yelps into Ian’s mouth, interrupting the kiss, and clenches his jaw against the onslaught of pain, momentarily forgetting his mouth’s current activities, which means he ends up biting down onto Ian’s lip rather painfully.

Ian hisses as the pain starts to bloom, and he jumps back, hand immediately flying up to his mouth.

Across from him Mickey spins around to glare at the doorknob and twists his arm behind him to rub at his back.

Ian makes a noise as he gingerly touches his lip. Even in the dark he can see his finger comes away stained with a little bit of blood as he pulls it back.

His noise draws Mickey’s attention again, and he turns back to Ian, disgruntled annoyance melting from his face to make way for concern. The skin between his eyebrows bunches up again as he steps into Ian’s space and goes to address the wound. “Shit,” Mickey hisses, reaching for Ian’s face. “Fuckin’ doorknob. Are you okay?”

Ian swats at his hand, the tiniest flare of irritation lighting up his nerves. He’s fine. His lip stings, but just like it had been earlier at the dugouts, Ian’s feeling something, and even if that something is pain, Ian still wants it. Relishes it, even. Instead of giving Mickey a proper answer, he knocks Mickey’s hand from his face again and tugs him back into a kiss, chasing those feelings.

Mickey doesn’t complain or protest, just curls his arms around Ian’s waist and settles his palms low on his back, just above his ass.

Ian keeps one hand fisted into the front of Mickey’s shirt, but slips the other around him, blindly feeling for the doorknob so he can open it and they can make it through this time.

They spill into the family room, Ian sucking Mickey’s bottom lip into his mouth as he pushes Mickey further into the room. He nips at Mickey’s lip a few times, drawing out a soft noise from the back of Mickey’s throat that goes straight to his dick and spurs Ian on even more.

Mickey tries to take control by sliding his fingers into the belt loops of Ian’s jeans as he shuffles backwards, pulling them towards the stairs. He’s clearly just as desperate as Ian is to get on with it, but unlike Ian he seems more inclined to find a bed rather than settle for the closest piece of furniture. They lurch towards the foot of the stairs, and Mickey spins them so that if they were to start climbing, Ian would have to do it backwards— the bastard.

Ian’s shoulder clips the bannister, and he grunts into Mickey’s mouth. It doesn’t hurt much, but the dull ache of the impact is enough to clear his mind for the briefest of moments.

“Not upstairs,” he pants into Mickey’s mouth, and he has more to say, has an explanation to give, but Mickey hasn’t stopped kissing him, and Ian gets lost in it until Mickey mumbles an urgent c’mon against his lips and tries to back Ian up again.

Ian presses a hand flat against Mickey’s chest, and Mickey breaks the kiss momentarily to give Ian a confused, impatient look.

“We can’t go in my room,” Ian tells him, and Mickey just blinks at him with blown pupils and shiny lips, and Ian almost forgets why they can’t go up to his room and drags him there anyways. But then he remembers his brothers— the children— he shares a room with, and he shakes his head. “Full house,” he reminds Mickey, tapping a finger against his chest, and the meaning dawns on Mickey, who groans and lets his forehead fall against Ian’s shoulder.

“We ever goin’ to fuck on a bed?” Mickey asks gruffly, a hint of irritation lacing his words.

Ian laughs airily, and buries his face in Mickey’s hair before tipping his head back to meet Mickey’s eyes. And for a second, everything else fades away. Ian’s siblings upstairs, Mickey’s dad and his wife and his kid at home, the last few months, all the ups and downs they’ve been through, it all just disappears from his memory, and it’s just him and Mickey laughing and smiling and kissing away the time.

“Next time,” Ian promises, breaking the moment. He ducks down to steal a quick kiss, and Mickey’s lips chase his as he pulls away. It makes Ian grin. “Couch looks pretty good to me right now, though,” he adds, punctuating it by giving Mickey’s ass a squeeze through his jeans.

Mickey’s not expecting it, and he jumps a little in Ian’s arms, cursing at him under his breath, but there’s a tiny grin quirking at his lips, and he grabs Ian’s hand to tug him through the dark house towards the sofa a few feet away.

Ian clings to Mickey’s back, dropping Mickey’s hand so he can slide his arms around his waist and tease him by toying with the front of his jeans. He latches onto Mickey’s neck too, as best as he can from behind him, anyways.

Mickey seems to be enjoying it, huffing out little laughs that go breathy towards the end when Ian really gets into it. It’s distracting as hell, though, and Mickey’s legs fail him more often than not, bringing him to a stop several times before they make it to the couch so he can melt back into Ian’s body and revel in the touch of his hands and the press of his lips.

He sends an elbow into Ian’s ribs, light enough not to hurt but hard enough that he’ll get the message to quit it, at least for now, so they can get to the couch and he can get the fuck on him for real.

They finally round the corner of the couch, and Ian’s about to manhandle Mickey around so they’re facing each other and he can kiss him as they collapse into the cushions (and maybe so he can fuck Mickey face to face, too— Mickey’s in a good enough mood that Ian doesn’t think he’d stop them to turn himself around if Ian were to try to fuck him like this), but before he can, Mickey comes to an abrupt stop.

“What the fuck is he doing here?” Mickey hisses, the tiniest hint of a whine to his voice as he glares down at Frank’s sprawled out, unmoving form clearly passed out across the sofa.

“Fuckin’ Frank,” Ian groans and drops his forehead against Mickey’s back. Of fucking course Frank would find a way to cockblock him without even meaning to. “He doesn’t even fucking live here,” he grumbles.

Mickey gives the bottom of the couch an experimental kick, but Frank doesn’t even stir. He huffs out and kicks the couch again, this time in frustration.

And it is frustrating, but Ian is determined not to let this— not to let Frank— ruin his evening. It had been such a good one— the best one in a while, really— and there’s no way he’s not going to end it by fucking his boyfriend good and hard, just the way they both deserve.

“C’mon,” Ian says, grabbing Mickey’s hand again. He brings his face close to Mickey’s. “M’still gonna fuck you,” he promises, voice low enough to make Mickey forget all about the deadbeat alcoholic passed out on what would’ve been their ‘bed’ for the evening. “Kitchen table’s the next flat surface I can think of,” he whispers into Mickey’s ear, and he grins at the shudder he can feel go through Mickey’s body. Feeling a little daring, Ian darts his tongue out to lick the shell of Mickey’s ear, then bites down on his lobe. It’s a bold move, one that has just as high a chance of earning him a punch as it does not. But he doesn’t give Mickey the chance to make that decision. Ian spins him around in his arms and crushes his mouth to Mickey’s, and by then Mickey’s far too occupied to protest.

They knock into the coffee table as they distractedly try to shimmy out of the tight space between the table and the couch, and a few of Debbie’s or maybe Fiona’s magazines slip off the surface and flop to the ground, the pages fanning out and bending back. Neither Ian nor Mickey can be assed to care.

Mickey bumps into the end of the couch, and he nearly steps on one of Liam’s toys lying in their path, but thankfully his foot lands a few inches away from it, and they make it into the kitchen unscathed.

Once in the kitchen, Ian walks Mickey back until he runs into the counter. He presses him against the ledge and crowds into his space, licking at the seam of Mickey’s mouth until he parts his lips for Ian.

Mickey’s hands grip at his waist, then push under his shirt and settle against his bare skin.

Desperate to get those hands all over him, Ian breaks the kiss long enough to rear back so he can yank his shirt over his head. He lets it fall to a heap somewhere on the floor behind him, then reattaches himself to Mickey’s mouth, licking into it with a renewed fervor.

As soon as he’s back in Mickey’s space, Mickey’s hands find his waist again. This time instead of just settling there, his hands glide up Ian’s back, smoothing over the muscles Ian knows Mickey loves to grab onto when he fucks him good— the few times they have fucked face to face he hadn’t been able to let go. His hands are warm against Ian’s skin and they leave a trail of electricity in their wake.

And suddenly Ian’s itching to get his own hands all over Mickey’s bare skin. He tugs at the bottom of Mickey’s shirt, pulling it from where it’s tucked into the waistband of his jeans all properlike for their date. Ian can’t help but smile a little dopily at the effort Mickey put into it, like he knew how much it would mean to Ian if he did. (And to himself, too, he’s not fooling anyone.)

Mickey gets the hint pretty quick, nipping at Ian’s bottom lip before abandoning his mouth to focus on getting rid of his shirt. “The fuck you smilin’ about?” He asks, but Ian can hear Mickey’s own smile in his voice and he just laughs a little.

“Get your fucking shirt off,” Ian replies, clawing at the offending fabric still covering Mickey’s upper half.

“Bossy fuck,” Mickey mutters, but it’s clear he’s wants it gone just as bad when he stops messing with the buttons and starts to pull his shirt up his body as quickly as he can instead.

His arm gets caught in the sleeve in his haste, and rather than take his time to untangle himself, Mickey huffs and tries to shake his arm free. It doesn’t help that Ian’s still pulling at the material, probably hindering him much more than he is actually helping any, but he’s too damn eager to get Mickey naked to act rationally.

“Fucking god damn fancy ass shirt,” Mickey grumbles, followed by a string of curses that makes Ian snort in amusement.

But his amusement doesn’t last too long. In the next second, Mickey finally manages to get his arm free, but the release is so sharp that his arm flails back and his elbow goes slamming into the empty metal pot that was sitting on the stove beside them.

The pot knocks onto its side with a clatter, sending the lid skidding across the stove to crash into the coffee maker, then rolls none too quietly right over the edge of the counter where it falls to the floor with a loud, echoing crash.

Mickey grabs for Ian instinctively, clutching at his arms tight enough that his nails are bound to leave little half moon indents in his skin.

“Oh fuck!”

“Shit!” Ian hisses out, eyes going wide as he watches the scene in horror.

The pot keeps rolling across the floor until it hits the side of the laundry machine and finally comes to a stop. The room goes quiet.

They stand there, frozen in the kitchen, the throbbing in their pants momentarily forgotten as they both strain their ears for any sign that the noise woke anyone up.

After a few seconds and nothing, not even a peep from Frank (which for the briefest of moments makes Ian wonder if he’s dead rather than just passed out on the couch), the tension in their shoulder relaxes.

Ian tears his eyes from where he was squinting towards the stairs to look at Mickey, and when their eyes meet, they both burst into quiet, relieved laughter. Ian quickly muffles himself in Mickey’s neck, and Mickey presses his face into Ian’s hair in response.

“Fuck, I thought for sure that would wake someone up,” Ian says, giggling like a child that’s had too much sugar. He can’t help it though, it makes him fucking giddy that no one seemed to have heard them. They’re being fucking loud.

“Those shitheads can sleep through anything, fuck,” Mickey says, almost in awe. “Must be fuckin’ nice.”

It’s a loaded statement, but now is really not the time to unpack all that, so rather than let himself get too caught up in it, Ian presses his lips to Mickey’s neck where he’s still hiding his face. He leaves a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down to Mickey’s collarbone, nipping gently at the skin before laving over it with his tongue. “Guess they can sleep through anything,” he agrees. “Means I can make you scream my name when I fuck you right here in the kitchen,” Ian says, low and dirty.

“Fuck you, I ain’t a screamer,” Mickey snaps, but Ian can see the way his words are affecting him. He can feel it too, where Mickey’s pressing up against his thigh.

“Bet I can make you one,” Ian taunts, biting down on his lip. He lifts his head from Mickey’s neck, a wicked smirk unfurling across his face.“I bet—”

He’s cut off by Mickey growling low in his throat and crushing his lips back to Ian’s in a searing kiss that has Ian gasping into it before matching his enthusiasm.

And Mickey doesn’t waste a second either. They’ve barely even started back up before Mickey’s hands are at Ian’s pants, popping open the button and tearing the zipper down. He shoves Ian’s jeans down just enough that he can slide his hand into his boxers and wrap strong fingers around his dick.

Ian whimpers into Mickey’s mouth and pushes his hips instinctively back against Mickey’s hand. Then he scrambles to get his own hand down the back of Mickey’s jeans, too, and he cups a good handful of it, pulling a short little moan from Mickey that he immediately tries to stifle. It makes Ian pretty damn smug.

He’s about to see if he can pull any more unexpected sounds from Mickey by trailing a finger teasingly over his crack when light suddenly floods the kitchen.

“Fucking shit! What the fuck!”

Mickey’s hand is gone from his pants in an instant, and Ian stumbles back as Mickey shoves him away, panting hard and eyes wild with panic.

Ian’s heart rabbits in his chest and he yanks his jeans back up as he whirls around.

“I’ve got a fuckin bat!” Fiona shouts, and she sure fucking does.

She stands just beneath the doorframe, her foot inches away from that stupid fucking pot that, apparently, did wake someone up. Her hair is sticking up from the pillow, and her eyes are wide, but she doesn’t look fully alert quite yet, traces of sleep still around the edges. The Gallagher’s trusty thug bashing baseball bat is hoisted over her shoulder, like she’s ready to swing.

“It’s just us!” Ian screeches, stepping in front of Mickey and holding his hands out to placate his sister.

“Christ, Ian,” Fiona breathes, letting the bat fall to her side. She places her other hand over her chest and blows out a long breath. “Fuck you doin’ coming in so late like that?” She asks, and it’s then that she notices Mickey where he’s still standing behind Ian. He’s steadfastly avoiding meeting her eyes, and Ian knows it’s mostly from embarrassment over getting caught about to fuck and not because he got caught about to fuck Ian.

Fiona’s eyes flit between the pair of them, and Ian knows they must be a sight to see. He’s sure his hair is all over the place from when Mickey had his hands buried in it, and his jeans are still undone and hastily dragged back up so they cover enough of what needs to be covered. Neither one of them has a shirt on, and they’re both breathing like they’d just run a fucking marathon. Ian spares a quick glance back at Mickey, and even though he looks slightly more put together than Ian, it still isn’t hard to tell what he’s just been doing. Not with the way his lips are redder than usual and still shining from being in Ian’s mouth just seconds ago.

“We had a date,” Ian tells Fiona proudly, and he drops his shoulder back to knock into Mickey’s. He looks back at him, and smiles when he sees that Mickey has finally lifted his eyes from the floor.

Mickey manages to smile back, just the tiniest lift of the corners of his lips, but Ian catches it and it makes him feel warm all over. Then Mickey meets Fiona’s eyes and gives a short nod, confirming Ian’s answer, and that makes Ian’s fucking heart sing. A few months ago Mickey never would have admitted to being on a date— hell, he couldn’t even admit that they were boyfriends, which they so obviously were. He probably never would have even agreed to going out on a date either, but that’s besides the point. He’s come a long fucking way, and Ian couldn’t be more proud.

Fiona softens and a happy, albeit tired smile graces her face. “A date, huh?” She repeats, sticking her hand on her hip. She lifts the baseball bat and uses it to gesture around the kitchen. “You continuin’ that date here or somethin’?” And the knowing look she gives the two of them is enough to have them both blushing.

“Fuck off,” Mickey mutters gruffly, dropping his eyes back to the floor.

Ian gives her a bashful look and the tiniest shrug of his shoulders. “Uh, no?” He tries, but it’s not convincing at all, not that it even needs to be at this point. They’ve already been caught with their hands down their pants— literally.

Fiona laughs and then sighs. “Just remember we gotta eat breakfast in this kitchen in the morning,” she warns, pointing the baseball bat at them again. “Leave it cleaner than you found it,” she calls, already halfway out of the room on her way back to the stairs. She’s barely gone before they hear a quiet, “how the fuck did he get in here?” which means Fiona must have found Frank. But then the soft thuds of feet on the stairs can be heard, and Fiona really is gone.

It takes a few seconds before Ian or Mickey move, both still shook up from the interruption.

Mickey breaks first, blowing a breath out through his teeth and rubbing his hands down his face. “Jesus christ,” he mumbles.

Ian thinks that might have killed the mood with Mickey, and he prepares himself to accept that his sister just totally cockblocked him even if it was unintentional.

But then Mickey starts to laugh, and his hands fall back to his side. He gives Ian a bewildered look, like he kind of can’t believe that just happened— that Fiona said what she said— and Ian just shrugs. He knows she’s been in the exact same position before, so she’s not really in the place to judge or get on Ian’s case about it.

“It kinda sounds like she just fuckin’ gave us her blessing or something to fuck in the kitchen,” Mickey says, shaking his head. “What the fuck.”

“That’s ‘cause she kind of fucking did,” Ian points out, inching back into Mickey’s space. He meets Mickey’s eyes and tilts his head to the side. “You still up for it?” He asks, a grin tugging at his lips.

“You’re still revving to go even after your sister just walked in on us?” Mickey asks, astounded.

Ian waggles his eyebrows and shrugs. “Always revving to go when I’m around you,” he answers, and Mickey snorts and shoves Ian a little.

“Cheesy fucker,” he says, but it comes out fond, and he’s cracking a smile. “Well, fuck, alright then,” Mickey adds after a second, laughing a little. “What the fuck you doing over there? Get the fuck on me, man.”

And, fuck, Ian doesn’t need to be told twice.

#gallavich #shameless #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #asks #eddiesasspbrak #my writing #mack writes

[deafeningnightcollection-things]

Hidden Lives ~ Winn Schott

Chapter 1 -- New Hero

The day everything changed Liliana had been sitting at home. Enjoying a nice book on a comfy couch. She had the news running like always in case something interesting popped up. She'd glanced up absently to check the headline and tossed her book to the ground in shock.

"Flight 237 bound for Geneva, is experiencing some loss of altitude. The pilot seems to be circling the city after apparent engine failure."

Alex's flight. A wave of ice-cold dread hit her.

She cranked up the volume as the newscaster continued. "We are receiving reports that the pilot is signaling for assistance. Air traffic control is scrambling to find a safe landing place. Though if the plane can make it that far remains to be—" He stopped as someone tapped him on the shoulder and whispered something in his ear. "The plane appears to be leveling off. More with Leyna Nguyen, live at the scene."

The TV switched to a shot of Otto Binder Bridge. Where the plane appeared to have landed safely in the water. A woman stepped in front of the camera, speaking quickly.

"The passengers of Flight 237 appear to have a guardian angel. When, what many report to be a female flying form rescued them from certain death..."

The woman continued to speak but Liliana had stopped listening, the knot in her chest eased slightly but she had to make sure Alex was alright. After 3 unsuccessful calls, she sent a quick succinct text.

I just saw the news. Are you ok?

The reply came a few minutes later, short and sweet.

Yes. I'll explain at work tomorrow.

It was formal, but then again all of Alex's texts seemed to be. She had never seemed to master the art of texting informally.

Liliana knew that was all she was going to be out of Alex tonight. So she slipped off the couch and decided to call it an early night. She curled up in her hoodie and shorts and tried not to think about how much work that flight was going to give her in the morning.

———

Morning seemed to come early the next day. Despite Alex being perfectly fine, her rattled nerves had kept her awake for another few hours. Silently cursing every bird twittering outside of her window, she rolled out of bed and fished a fresh outfit out of her closet. There was no point in anything very nice because she'd just change when she got to work.

She shuffled into the kitchen, more grateful than ever for the coffee maker her sister had insisted on giving her when she moved out.

"At list this way you won't go broke financing your coffee addiction." Kiera had said, laughing as she always did at her own jokes.

"Why would I pay for coffee when I could just use our trust fund?" Though Lily had intended the reply to be scathing, it sent them both into another fit of giggles. They never used that money if they could avoid it. It had too much dirt on it.

Liliana smiled at the memory even now. Most of her family was better left in the best, but her elder sister would always be a source of joy and inspiration. She flicked the coffee maker on before retreating to the bathroom to make herself more presentable. She grabbed her purse off the counter and poured the coffee into a thermos before heading downstairs onto the bustling streets of National City.

The walk to the DEO wasn't a hike, but it wasn't short either. She enjoyed a nice breath of fresh air in the morning as she people watched so the 30 minutes walk was perfect for her. Swiping her key card at the gate she made her way to the locker room. As she pulled on the tight black garb that most agents were required to wear, she couldn't help staring at her face in the mirror. The eyes that were so like her brother's, a dark sad brown. Lily glanced away, not wanting to be pulled into memories of Lex. Even the good ones had been tainted by his madness now...

She threaded her way through the building to Alex's lab. She knocked lightly on the doorframe as she entered, so Alex wouldn't almost slice her with a laser. It had been an accident and Alex had apologized profusely, but ever since Liliana had been careful to announce her presence when entering the lab.

Alex didn't even look up from the microscope. Instead, mumbling, "Hey, Lily."

"Hey, Lily. You almost died and all I get is 'hey, Lily'. Unbelievable." Anyone else would've missed the eye roll at the end of that statement. But, Alex was the closest thing she had to a sister, after Kiera. They knew each other's secrets. Alex knew her real last name, and Lily knew about Alex's sister.

So, she wasn't entirely surprised when Alex said, "I'm perfectly fine Kara swooped in and saved the day..."

There was an indiscernible grumble at the end, but Lily had little doubt about what she'd said. She smiled to herself in spite of everything, Alex's fierce protectiveness was one of the things Lily loved most about her.

"You know she just wanted to help."

"I know, I know." Alex responded smiling a little sadly, "but now she's on the DEO's radar, and who knows who else might come after her now."

"They'd have a tough time getting through you."

Alex laughed at the comment, thankful for the genuine support in her friend's voice.

Lily nudged Alex's shoulder playfully, "now are you going to show me your latest scientific discovery or what?"

Technically Lily was IT, keeping the firewalls up to date and making sure no one hacks the DEO. But her dual degree in computer science and biochemistry meant that she'd ended up helping Alex on more than one occasion.

Alex immediately launched into an explanation about a new genetic marker she'd found in one of the alien prisoners. A particularly unruly Cerulian, who kept trying to use his head to knock down his cell door. So there was a lot of DNA available to analyze.

"Larken, my office!" Hank's shout rang through the building.

Lily hopped off the counter she'd taken up residence on. "Guess that's me. If the warden kills me, send flowers." She placed a hand to her heart dramatically.

Alex's eyebrows quirked, her attention already returning to her experiment.

"Remember to get some sunlight once in a while, Doc." She tossed the words over her shoulder as she made her way toward Hank's office. Alex waved her off absently.

Hank's office was sparsely decorated. A few generic landscape pictures on the walls, file cabinet in the corner, and a standard-issue desk, were the only objects in the room. It was common knowledge that Hank hated it in here. He preferred to be out in the central hub, barking orders and pouring over the files of the Fort Rozz escapees. If he was meeting her in his office, it had to be important.

"Sir?" She called as she knocked on the door.

"Come in."

Lily stepped into the room cautiously, hoping she wasn't about to be reprimanded for going to Alex's post instead of her own. There was a file on his desk marked 'classified'.

"Shut the door behind you, Agent."

She did as she was told and sat down across from him.

"If this is about me going to the lab, I was about to—"

Hank held up a hand. "I'm aware of your track record, Agent, and I don't care what you do in your free time." He motioned towards the file, "I have an assignment for you."

Now she was even more confused, why hadn't he just left the assignment in her tray.

"I'm sure you watched the news last night."

She nodded, hoping this wasn't leading where she thought it was.

"We need to bring in Agent Danver's sister for a threat assessment, and I would like to know all the facts before doing so."

He handed the file to her. She didn't bother to open it, she was shocked about this assignment, to say the least.

"Sir, surely Agent Danvers would—"

But again he cut her off. "Agent Danvers will be informed when the time comes. Is that understood, Agent?"

Lily nodded mutely. Her stomach churning with the guilt of having to lie to her best friend.

Hank continued, "I need to know if she has any accomplices, if there are any outside factors, is the plane her first act of heroics, etc... I expect a full report by the end of the week."

"Yes, Sir."

She tucked the file under her arm and left. Making straight for her office.

A medium-sized room, it was the complete opposite of Hank's office. Exploding with personality in every direction. The walls were a vibrant blue, covered in posters of everything from musicians to books. A beanbag chair sat in the corner, currently stacked a few feet high with papers. There was a large white board shoved against the back wall. The desk was littered in bobbleheads, colorful cups of pens, and a three-piece monitor set up.

She pulled her rolling chair out and sat down heavily. Lie to my best friend for a week, what could go wrong? She glared at the file, wishing she had a dog to feed it to.

Might as well start now, the sooner I finish, the sooner I can stop lying to Alex.

There was little in the file she didn't already know, the only thing Alex loved to talk about as much as science was her sister.

"This was a few weeks after she'd landed, right. So, she didn't know too much about Earth foods," Alex had doubled over giggling. "I managed to convince her that a ghost pepper was a desert." Lily had begun to giggle too, "she wouldn't eat anything I offered her for months after that without asking our parents first. And she's still apprehensive about new food I give her, it's almost like she thinks I'm not trustworthy"

Lily had punched Alex playfully, "that's evil." She said between giggles.

She shrugged, "perks of an alien sister."

Lily shook her head, "after a story like that, I don't I'll be accepting food from you."

Lily slammed the file shut.

———

The week passed slowly, and try as she might she couldn't bring herself to open that file. Finally, she just decided to bite the bullet. It was late Thursday and if she weren't careful she'd have to log a lot of weekend hours just to finish the report.

After skimming the file just to confirm she knew all of its contents, she tucked it into the top drawer of her desk, determined not to look at it again.

She pulled the white board to the center of the room. Hoping to organize the jumble of thoughts in her head.

Supergirl facts

Same abilities as Superman

Similar costume

Superman's cousin

Saved a plane

Ugh. Those were all things that they already knew, what has she done recently?

Stopped petty crimes

That was it, it had to be. How did Kara know about those crimes? Super hearing maybe, but was Kryptonian hearing that good? It couldn't be the news, no petty crimes would make the news fast enough to stop. Police scanner maybe? But those were much harder to come by in National City, too many journalists sniffing around for a story.

Lily shot up from where she'd been laying on the floor staring up at the whiteboard. The NCPD mainframe would have to digitize every officer dispatch, and in a city as on the ball as National City. That could happen minutes after the call. Fast to enough for a super to act, but how did Kara get access to those. Nothing in Alex's many Kara stories had mentioned any sort of technical background.

Her eyes trailed back to the assignment she'd been given. Her finger ran down the paper before hovering on the word 'accomplice'. That had to be it, some tech person in the background telling Kara where to go.

Lily checked the NCPD signal for a hack, thankfully this hacker, whoever they were. Didn't think enough of the NCPD security protocols to bother hiding their identity very well.  It took only minutes to follow the signal back to a local IP address in National City.

She grinned wildly, fist-bumping the Hermione bobblehead on her desk. "Booyah."

She was tempted to go straight to Hank with her findings but knew that if she did that Hank might very well bring Kara in tonight. She wanted to give Alex another day.

Lily decided to investigate the address herself and bring whatever she found to Hank the next day. It was late enough to clock out so she wasted no time in grabbing her bag and heading to the locker room. As she slipped on her civilian clothes, a thread from her shirt caught on the small gold pendant around her neck. Cursing in greek, she wrestled with the shirt for a moment before the thread slipped off.

She held the necklace in her hand a moment longer. Running a thumb over the elegant script engraved on the back.

Kóri,

With love,

Lionel

She smiled, even as her eyes brimmed with tears. Her father never could sign anything just 'dad' or 'papa', he always had to remind the world how amazing he thought his own name was. She missed the days when her father was still alive, Lex was crazy yet, and Kiera hadn't left. They'd been a happy family once. Many many years ago.

That was how Alex found her only minutes later as she clocked out of her own shift. Clutching a necklace and sobbing uncontrolably. Alex didn't say anything just immediately wrapped her arms around Lily comfortingly and rocked her gently.

Alex pet her hair gently, "shh."

"Thank you," Lily whispered. "It's easy to pretend that it was always bad, but Lex was kind once, and Lionel was a good father."

Alex didn't say anything, just continued to hold her until she stopped shaking.

"How about we get takeout and head back to my place for the night? My treat." Alex coaxed gently, trying to bring a smile to her friend's face.

Lily cracked a watery smile, "I never could resist free food."

"That's the spirit," Alex nudged her gently, making them both giggle.

By the time they'd picked up the food and made their way to Alex's apartment, Lily was feeling considerably better.

"You know there's only one thing that would make this better." She smiled slyly at Alex.

Alex laughed, already reaching over to pop in the Star Wars dvd.

"If you tell anyone I've seen this, I'll kill you." Alex had a great threatening face, but it didn't really work with a mouthful of noodles.

"Promises, promises." Lily chided as she stuck her tongue out, already moving into the kitchen to grab a wine bottle.

"Make it sure its a red one." Alex called over the opening credits.

Lily laughed as she opened the cabinet that had only red bottles.

"God forbid we drink white wine for once, Alex."

"Hey," Alex defended as Lily walked back into the living room with the glasses and the bottle. "You love that and you love me. So, what are you complaining about?"

The evening was full of light chuckles comments about Han's looks (mostly Alex) and comments about Luke's looks (all Lily). Lily knew she'd have to check out the address in the morning, but for now she chose to enjoy a nice movie with her best friend.

#winn schott x oc #alex danvers #kara danvers #hank henshaw #j'onn j'onzz #cat grant #james olsen #supergirl #dc #dc comics #dccomics #cw #cw supergirl #fanfic #winn schott #fanfiction #alien #aliens #comedy #drama #romance #lena luthor

[ourloveisforthelovely]

Time to Waste 12

Good Omens 

Link to Chapter 11

Words: 2,070

Pairings: Gabriel x Reader 

___________

You sat across Beelzebub as they ordered a drink. After the bartender dropped the drink off, Beelzebub decided that it was time to talk. 

“I suppose you know what I am waiting for.” 

You looked up from your own drink before leaning back in the chair. 

“I am assuming that you want an explanation about me disappearing for the past five years.” 

Beelzebub didn’t smile. Their attention focused on your face. 

“Do you find this amusing? I was worried. Gabriel was extremely worried. A basket case is a better way to put your lover’s behavior.” 

You smirked. 

“He deserved what he got.” 

Beelzebub was slightly surprised by your comment. They had expected you to make some type of comment of loyalty to Gabriel. Now here you were pretty much saying that he deserved to be stuck wondering where his pregnant girlfriend went to. 

“I sense all is not well between the two of you. Is the reason that you left? If so what did he do?”

You shrugged. 

“He called me a slut after you kissed me. So I guess that I have you to thank for all of this past trouble. Thanks a lot.”

Beelzebub instantly frowned. 

“I don’t control that giant oaf that you decided to have a child with! I can’t control his mouth. We both know that it is a black hole where stupid comes from. Why did you take his words so personally?”

You sat your cup down. 

“I don't know many women that want to be called a slut by the man that they love.” 

Beelzebub nodded. 

“Fair enough. From my observations, the two of you seem a little tense. Y/n, I know that you love Gabriel. Anyone who knows anything knows that. You, however, don't ‘have to put with the verbal abuse. If you do take him back, I do think it would be in both of your interests to discuss boundaries. I don’t want to have to hurt him because he hurt you. I think we both know that I could make him cry.”

You nodded. The prince of hell was right on that one! Things were tense! As much as you wanted to rip Gabriel’s suit off and have your way with him. You were fine with the idea of punching him in the face too. You could always ask Beelzebub to punch him? 

“Tense is putting it lightly. Ever since I came back, things between us has not been great. We have come so close to fixing things but one of us says something stupid and everything gets shot to hell. I mean literally goes to hell in a handbasket. We are just picking at each other over the stupidest of things.” 

Beelzebub wanted to make a snide comment about Gabriel being a giant pompous jerk but decided against it after looking at your face. You looked as depressed as your voice sounded! The prince of hell looked at you and was silent for a moment. 

“Do the two of you talk? Share your feelings...that kind of stuff?”

You snorted. What Gabriel and yourself had been doing over the last few weeks wasn’t really “talking.” 

“Kind of. Not really.”

Beelzebub looked thoughtful. 

“How is he with the child?” 

You smiled at that. Despite how poor your relationship with Gabriel was, he seemed to genuinely love his daughter.

“He does well with her actually. There are sometimes I think that he is a little stunned by her. Matilda uses that to her advantage too. If there is something that she wants and Gabriel is clueless about it she can manipulate him so easily. That’s the reason why we keep getting cats. Gabriel can’t tell her no. He just hides them in a closet and tells my father that he’s nuts overhearing random meowing.”

Beelzebub smirked. 

“She seems smart...remarkably like you.”

You smiled. 

“She is more like her father than you realize. Also, a lot like my own father.” 

Beelzebub frowned at that. 

“Great, another Crowley!” 

That was the last thing that the prince of hell wanted to think about! One Crowley was enough! Beelzebub was relieved when they met you and you weren’t like your father in the slightest. Now here was Crowley’s grandchild who had the same quick wit and sarcasm.

You smiled. 

“Matilda is a person all of her own.”  

Meanwhile, 

Matilda had snuck up the stairs after Gabriel. She poked her head into your bedroom where Gabriel stood to look out the window with a gloomy expression on his face. Matilda sat her cat down before going inside. 

“Are you mad because mommy went somewhere with that fly lady?” 

Gabriel looked down. 

“Not for you to worry about.” 

Matilda frowned. She was getting tired of being told this isn’t your concern or you are too little to understand.

“I understand a lot more than you seem to realize, dad.” 

Gabriel sighed. The last thing that he really wanted to do was explain to his child why his relationship wasn’t working out with her mother. Being a little kid with that in your brain was sure to mess with you. 

“Tilly, I am not in the mood.” 

Matilda shrugged. 

“It isn’t your fault that you are clueless when it comes to mom.” 

Gabriel’s mouth dropped as he tried to consider his words. Now, if was appearing that it was time to argue with the kid. 

“I’m not clueless.” 

Matilda chuckled.

“If you say so…” 

She turned and went back to her cat. Matilda picked the cat up and stroked the hairless cat’s head before turning back to her father. 

“Dad, I understand my cat more than you understand mom. King Louis can’t even talk and I can understand him. Mom has practically shrieked at you what she wants and you aren’t getting it.” 

Gabriel ran a hand over his face. 

“Matilda I am really tired.” 

“Well go take a nap!”

Matilda snapped and continued to stroke King Louis’ head. Gabriel, meanwhile, was busy looking at his daughter with a clear expression of unhappiness. 

“Matilda, enough. Everything will be just fine between your mother and me. You’re just taking everything too literally.” 

Matilda sat her cat down and turned back to her father. 

“I take things literally because that is how things are.” 

Gabriel was really having enough! Wasn’t four-year-old little girls supposed to be playing with dolls or something? They weren’t supposed to be working out the love lives of their parents. 

“Matilda, I don’t have the juice for this…you really need to stop.”

Matilda snapped her fingers and put a cup of apple juice in front of her father. 

“There you go.” 

Gabriel sighed and stood up. 

“Go play with the cat or something...act like a kid.” 

Walking downstairs Gabriel muttered something about his life being a train wreck. He was so busy brooding that he didn't see Crowley sitting at the table. 

“I would say train wreck is putting things lightly.” 

Gabriel looked up with a frown. 

“I wasn’t asking you.” 

Crowley shrugged. 

“You’re talking to yourself is the first sign of going crazy but then again you do get your best advice from yourself so…” 

It took all Gabriel had not to blow the demon up. Had it not been for the knowledge that you would never speak to him again if he killed your father he would have. 

“Crowley, I have enough problems on my plate without your snide little remarks.” 

Crowley smirked. 

“Aziraphale is really the one that you would like to speak to when it comes to relations. I would much rather tell you to grow a pair and apologize on your knees to Y/n and just maybe she will take you back ...but you and I both know that you are too cocky of an asshole to do that. Tonight and tonight only, I will turn off my sarcasm and listen to you bitch….and go…” 

Gabriel didn’t speak for a moment. Crowley sighed. 

“You’re wasting time.” 

Gabriel sighed. 

“Fine, what is the longest that you and Aziraphale have gone without having sex?”

Crowley raised an eyebrow. 

“With each other?” 

Gabriel groaned. 

“I don’t care if it's with each other or someone else...don’t care.” 

Crowley was having too fun with his light torture of the archangel but decided to tone it down since this did pertain to his daughter. 

“We have stupid fights but we make up quickly. It definitely didn’t involve any unplanned kids coming along and one of us running away to Hull. That was what...five years that Y/n was away. I think that it's safe to say that you have me beat. Anyhow, I know my daughter. She loves you whether or not she wants to admit it or not. I also know that it's a bit hard for the two of you to fix things with Matilda on your heels. Here’s my advice, wake Y/n up around 4 am when the kid is asleep and make things right.” 

Gabriel held his hands up. 

“Y/n doesn’t go to bed until like one or two. Are you seriously suggesting that I go to her and ask her to wake up for that? Come on.” 

It was Crowley’s turn to be defensive, 

“What do you want me to say? You need to be spontaneous. It will help impress her. I get that the two of you are sarcastic. Well, she’s sarcastic and you are clueless. Is it really that bad, Gabriel?”

Gabriel was silent for a few moments. 

“Let put it this way. We are having problems in the bedroom department and I am discussing it with you! There is also the fact that my four-year-old is picking up on this too and offering relationship advice!”

Crowley smirked. 

“Matilda is very smart. Maybe you should listen to the two of us. You were so jealous when she walked out of the room with Beelzebub today. If you weren’t serious about Y/n, I don’t think that you would have gotten that angry. Now, go be a fucking man and do something about fixing this. You two are making me sick.”

Meanwhile, 

Your mind had been in a haze of thoughts of both Gabriel and Beelzebub the whole way home. At least, you were able to determine that your feeling for Beelzebub was clearly platonic.  You needed to talk to Gabriel. Both of you needed to turn off the sarcasm and overly active tempers and talk. 

Matilda jumping out of the shadows and yelling, “MOM YOU’RE HOME!” broke you from your thoughts. You looked down at your daughter with an amused smile and half yelled “yes and so are you” back. 

Gabriel and Crowley stepped out of the kitchen after hearing all of the yelling. Matilda, meanwhile, smiled coyly. Her plan to get the two of you in the same room worked splendidly.  

Crowley looked between the two of you and faked a gag. He reached down at picked Matilda up. 

“Come on princess, neither of us really want to sit and watch this.” 

You waited until the two were out of earshot before turning to face Gabriel. His eyes were watching every move that you made without saying a word. 

“I think we really need to sit down at  talk.” 

Gabriel crossed his arms over his chest. 

“I wanted to talk before you took with Beelzebub. Let me guess, the two of you are together now.” 

You sighed. Gabriel was jealous. You had the feeling that he was going to get all self-righteous and “archangel-like.” 

“You can guess again. Like I have told you before, Beelzebub and I are just friends. I don’t know why you can’t grasp that being the all-knowing being that you are!” 

Gabriel held his hands up before reaching out and tentatively took your hand in his. 

“Please, I just want us to sit down at talk before Matilda gets away from your father. Can’t you give me like five minutes without one of us losing our tempers?”

You wanted to yank your hand away but you didn’t. 

“Fine, we need to get out of here for a bit…”  

_____

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#Good Omens #Gabriel #Crowley #Aziraphale #Gabriel x Reader #good omens fan fiction #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale #reader x gabriel #beelzebuzzz #good omens reader insert #Time to Waste #Time to Waste Story

[darnedchild]

Everything that Kills Me - Part 2

Here’s where we start to earn that M rating, friends.  Consider that a fair warning.

Part 2

“I was beginning to think you didn’t want to see me again.”  Molly’s voice wrapped around him like a sheet made of the softest silk.

He slowly opened his eyes, fully expecting to see the lab at Barts where he’d spent the afternoon bent over a s microscope.  Molly had checked in with him off and on while he’d worked.  Had he become lost in his thoughts waiting for her to return?

However, it wasn’t the lab he saw.  Instead, it was the tiny room he’d discovered while exploring the old horse tunnels near the Stables Market, not far from the Camden Lockes.  He’d left an electric lantern on when he’d lain down on the cheap mattress that some of his people had smuggled down more than a year ago.  

Clearly, he must have fallen asleep at some point, because there was no feasible way that Molly Hooper would be standing in front of him.  She was wearing the same thing she’d been in when she’d said good night as he left the lab.  There was no mistaking her current favourite jumper.  Mustard yellow and at least a size too large, it hung nearly to her thighs and completely obscured her firm breasts and tiny waist.

He shook his head and promised himself, once again, that he would be deleting the memory of Molly in that little black dress from his mind very, very soon.  There was no reason to continue to remember what her body looked like under her bulky, over-sized clothing.

“You’re not Molly.” Sherlock was positive of that. Wasn’t he?

“Ah, but what if you’re wrong?” she countered with a hint of laughter in her voice.

“Why would Molly be lurking around here in the middle of the night?  Or back in that shed at the cemetery?   She has a house with a very comfortable bed.  I know, I’ve slept in it.”  It occurred to him that, perhaps, he should have left that last bit about the comfort of Molly’s bed out of his argument.

“And you have Baker Street.”  She gestured around the nearly empty room.  “Yet here we both are.”

He studied her for a long moment and she calmly let him, without a hint of unease in her expression.  “What are you?”

“I could have sworn we worked this all-out last time.  I’m a figment of your exhausted mind.  Merely a dream.  You really do push yourself far too hard, Sherlock.”  

He almost believed she was actually concerned about him.

“If this is all a dream, then it won’t matter if I wake myself up.”  He watched her face to see how she reacted to that.

“If that’s what you want.”  She pointed to mattress he was still curled upon.  “May I?”

After a moment Sherlock nodded and sat up to make room for her.  The low-quality mattress shifted under her added weight, sagging in the middle and tilting them close enough that their shoulders touched.  He quickly pulled away from the contact and tried to cover the action with a sarcastic verbal jab meant to distract her. “No plans to throw yourself into my lap this time?”

“You didn’t seem to like it.”  Her mischievous smile told him that she knew what he’d done, but she was willing to let him get away with it for now.  “Have you changed your mind?”

He was quick to reply with an indignant, “Of course not.”  Seconds later, he couldn’t stop himself from asking, “Wouldn’t you have already known that, without needing to ask?  You acted as if you could practically read my mind before.”

She shrugged.  “You didn’t seem to like that, either.”

When he thought about it, her earlier knowledge made a strange sort of sense.  Of course, his dreaming mind would know what he was thinking.  Matter settled.  Perfectly logical explanation.  Nothing to worry about.  

Except something still felt off.

“Is that important, doing things I like?”

“Mmmhmm,” she hummed.  “It’s very important.”  She leaned toward him and practically purred, “I want you to like me.”

Sherlock caught himself watching the way her lips moved and hated himself for it.  He forced himself to look into her eyes instead.  “But I don’t.  Won’t.  I can’t. Not while you’re wearing Molly’s face.”

“I don’t need to read your mind tonight to know that’s not true.”  

He pulled himself off the mattress with an indignant huff, and began to pace.  

She let him circle the room twice before she spoke again.  “This is just a dream, Sherlock.  You don’t have to lie to yourself here.  I certainly won’t tell.”

His scoff echoed against the stone walls, but he reluctantly turned to listen to her.

“Anything can happen in your dreams. Anything, anywhere … with anyone.” She held out her hand to beckon him closer.  “With me.”

“But you are not Molly!”  He ran his fingers through his hair and pulled at the strands, hoping to force himself awake.  It didn’t work.  

“I am.  I’m your Molly, if you want me to be.”  She spoke softly, as if she were trying to sooth an agitated beast. “You can talk to me, hold me, love me without worrying about the consequences in the morning.”  She extended her hand just a little bit further. “Sit with me, just a little while. Please.”

Sherlock took a deep breath and hesitantly took her hand.  She slowly pulled him closer, wordlessly urging him to settle beside her.  This time, when the mattress dipped, he didn’t pull away.

She leaned her head against his shoulder and whispered, “Thank you.”

Almost on instinct, he put his arm around her when she released his hand and burrowed closer to his side.

He’d always know that Molly was petite, but he hadn’t quite understood what that would feel like if they were ever this close, this intimate.  How strong and dominate it would make him feel to curl around her small body.

The first soft brush of her lips against his neck made his skin prickle.  He couldn’t contain his sharp inhale of surprise.

Somehow, impossibly, she even smelled like Molly.

“I-This isn’t-“  He stumbled over his words as her lips trailed upward along his jaw.  

His eyes fluttered closed and he moaned when her teeth gently nipped his earlobe.  Her voice was husky when she reassured him that nothing would happen that he didn’t want.

She flicked her tongue against the curve of his jaw.  “Do you want to stop?”

It took less than a second consider it. He shook his head.    

“I need to hear you say it, Sherlock.” She pressed a soft kiss against the corner of his mouth.  “Tell me what you want.”

He brought his hand up to her cheek and nudged her back so he could see her face.  “I don’t want to stop.”

Her eyes flashed that golden brown that he remembered from before.  He wondered what it meant, what his subconscious mind could be trying to tell him. Then she smiled and said, “So kiss me,” and he could think of nothing else but her.

The taste of her.

The delicious sound she made the first time he parted her lips with his tongue.  

The softness of her skin when his hand slipped beneath that awful yellow jumper.

His groaned “Molly” was barely audible; but, somehow, she heard it.

She shuddered in response.  “Yes, love.  I’m right here.”  Then she leaned her weight into him, and he allowed himself to be pushed down onto the mattress.

He felt her teeth pull at his lower lip as she settled over him.  He protested when she sat up to begin tugging at the buttons of his shirt, but the way she ground her arse against his rapidly hardening cock took his breath away and cut off anything else he would have said.  She flicked his shirt open and licked her lips at the sight.  The scratch of her nails against his chest was electric.  His back arched as she teased the skin just below his navel, so close to where he craved her touch the most.

When she finally pressed her palm against his clothed cock, he growled.  

As much as he wanted this, wanted her, he had to make a half-hearted attempt to stop her when she slid between his legs and reached for his fly.  “You shouldn’t-“

She looked up at him with those odd golden brown eyes, silently asking for permission to continue.  He swallowed and gave her one more chance to back out. “If you’re sure?”

Her answer was impossible to misread as slipped the head of his cock into her mouth.  

“Fuck!”  He’d received and given oral sex before, but this was nothing like he remembered.  It was more.  So much more. Almost overwhelming.  He curled his hands into fists and dug his nails into his palms in a vain effort to temper the urge to beg or to thrust his hips up every time she swirled her tongue against his glans.

At some point she pulled away with an obscenely wet sound and he ground his teeth together to muffle his whimper of protest.  

“Don’t hold back.  I want everything you can give me, my love. Everything.  I want to drain you dry.”  She took him back into her mouth and he willingly gave up his tenuous hold on his control.  

He took her at her word and trusted that she would let him know if he was too rough.  

Sherlock sunk his hands into her hair and urged her to take him a little deeper.  “That’s it, just like that.”  He let her set the pace for a while, until he felt the first familiar tingle at the base of his spine.  “Gonna come soon,” he panted.  “And you’re going to swallow every drop like a good girl. Aren’t you, Molly?”

She moaned her very enthusiastic consent around his cock and somehow managed to take him even deeper until he was certain that he was touching the back of her throat.  “Fuck.  Christ. So good.”

He gripped her head and held her still as he used her mouth to chase the orgasm that was just out of reach.  “Use your tongue.  Don’t stop.  Don’t. Stop.  Don’t.  Molly!”

Sherlock came so hard that his vision whited out.  He tried to reach for her, perhaps to offer to reciprocate, but his hands grasped at empty air.  “Molly? What about you?“

“Shush.”  He felt her hand brush a sweat dampened curl off his forehead.  “Next time.  You’re tired now.  Sleep.” She kissed him, soft and gentle.  “Dream of me, love.”

Eventually he opened his eyes again to find that he was sprawled out on the mattress.  All of his clothes were still in place, properly buttoned and zipped. There was a small, still sticky patch of drying semen in his boxers; a humiliating reminder that he must have come in his sleep like a hormonal adolescent.  

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