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florencemtrash · 4 months

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The Artificer: Part IV - Azriel x Reader

Warnings: Angst, soft Azriel, fluff, some suggestiveness

✨Based on this ask ✨

Masterlist of Masterlists

With those words you blew apart the walls he kept so fortified around his heart. Walls you’d steadily been hammering away at like metal until he’d been transformed into a weapon that would only ever sing to your touch.

Author's Note: This is the last chapter, everyone! Thank you for reading! ✨

You hadn’t specified which home you wanted to return to, and given the state of destruction your apartment had been left in during your kidnapping, you were grateful when Azriel and Cassian winnowed past the Day Court to the House of Wind.

Azriel was your home anyways. More than any physical dwelling or stretch of land.

The water was gloriously warm, sliding over your skin with a soothing touch that had you groaning in pleasure. Madja smiled kindly, pouring more of the jug of medicine into the water and swirling it around with a dark, knobby hand. Her magic poured out as well, lacing the water so that the burning slashes on your back cooled and the flesh began the slow process of knitting itself back together.

“Thank you,” You murmured gratefully, sinking into the bath until only your head remained unsubmerged.

The House of Wind breathed quietly in the early hours of the morning when even the streets of Velaris had emptied and its citizens burrowed beneath their blankets to sleep.

Azriel had been reluctant to leave you alone, practically glued to your side the whole flight back to the city, but finally relented when Madja commented on the absolute state he was in and shooed him off to bathe.

You sat in the tub quietly, trying not to fall asleep as Madja scrubbed your skin, tainting the bathwater copper until whatever magic in the house whisked it away, turning the water crystal clear again.

“Azriel. You should be asleep.”

You stirred at the sound of Madja’s voice and the feeling of shadows sniffing at your neck. You sat up, turning in the tub and noting the damp curl of Azriel’s hair. He was clean and smelled like himself again - woodsy and crisp like the Illyrian mountains at night.

He said nothing, eyes zeroing in on the marks of your back. Madja had stitched them up as best she could, warning you that they would scar. You felt a dangerous tremor in the air coming off him.

Madja must have noticed too because she dipped her head, promising to be back in the morning to check on your progress, and instructing Az to bind your back before you slept.

He nodded stiffly, moving forward to kneel at your side while Madja made her exit.

“Hey.” You murmured, leaning close enough to brush your lips against his forehead. You winced, feeling the strain in your back and Azriel immediately had his hands at your shoulders, gently guiding you to lean back into a comfortable position.

He wordlessly filled his hands with a sweet smelling shampoo, running his fingers through your hair and massaging your scalp. He was being so painfully gentle, cupping water in his hands to rinse out the lather. You stretched your neck back to help him, unable to help the tears that streamed down your face. It felt like ages since someone had given you such a kind, gentle touch.

Azriel stiffened, withdrawing his hands and leaving you cold and wanting.

“I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?” Azriel asked, his golden brown skin paling.

“No.” You shook your head, “No I liked it.” You gazed at him, eyes wide and begging, “Please do it again.”

Azriel let out a breath, returning his hands to your hair as you closed your eyes and sank into his touch. He was grateful you were closing your eyes. It left his eyes free to wander over your body, tracing the dip of your breasts as they sank beneath the milky, fragrant water, rising and falling slowly as you finally found yourself able to rest.

He traced the wound that made its way up your back and onto your shoulder with a feather light touch, hating the expanse of ruined flesh that he knew was hidden further down. He kept glancing down at your hands, swollen and aching even as they healed. It would take a month before your hands and back would heal enough to go back to work.

Azriel swallowed, wiping away at his eyes angrily. This shouldn’t have happened. He should’ve been there to protect you. He should’ve-

“Azriel.” You whispered. Your eyes were open and centered on the Shadowsinger. You reached up, gently wiping away his tears with soapy hands that smelled of rosemary and orange. “It wasn’t your fault,” You murmured, “I’m not angry at you and I’m not afraid of you. I could never be afraid of you.”

It wasn’t your fault. I’m not angry at you and I’m not afraid of you. I could never be afraid of you.

He curled into you, ignoring the rush of water that soaked his shirt as he buried his face in the curve of your neck and quietly wept.

When he finally stilled and the water had turned salty and cool, he gently lifted you out of the tub, drying your hair and your skin with a reverent touch. He then bound your hands and back in ointment and gauze.

“Stay.” You commanded after he had slipped you under the covers of the bed - his bed - and pulled away. You held onto a fistful of his damp shirt, tugging at it with a frown like it personally offended you.

Azriel obeyed, peeling the hated garment off him and throwing it somewhere in the room. He climbed into bed beside you, letting out a groan of relief when you immediately wrapped your arms around him and buried your fingers in his hair, pulling him close for a kiss.

“Thank you for coming for me.” You murmured, your eyes drifting closed. You couldn’t fight off sleep any longer.

“I will always come for you, Y/n.” Azriel promised. “Always.”

He couldn’t be sure you heard him or that you would remember this in the morning, but you had a soft smile on your face when Azriel tucked you under his wing and pressed a kiss to your temple.

You can thank me later by convincing your mate not to slaughter me.

Eris Vanserra’s words rattled around in your mind as you sat at the breakfast table, sandwiched between Azriel and a bronze-skinned female with the most striking features you’d ever seen.

Emerie. You reminded yourself.

There had been a great number of introductions the past two weeks as everyone clamoured to meet the female that had stolen Azriel’s heart like a bandit in the night.

Azriel was a private male through and through, and you had the sense that if the circumstances were different, he would have wanted to keep you to himself for a while longer. In between bites of honey-soaked bread dusted with cinnamon and roasted pistachios, Azriel slyly reached down and grabbed your chair, sliding it close to him and wrapping an arm around your waist until you were practically sharing his seat.

Emerie stared at him strangely, but he remained frigid and silent.

“Territorial Illyrian babies.” Emerie muttered with a roll of her rich brown eyes.

Mor leaned back, peeking around Emerie’s wings and catching the blush in your cheeks as you rearranged the silverware and plates.

Her shoulders shook with laughter, cherry red lips splitting into a wide smile. She squeezed Emerie’s thigh beneath the table, leaning forward to give her a chaste kiss on the lips.

Forgive him, Em. He’s being an idiot.

I just don’t see why he won’t tell her they’re mates. I can understand him being protective against Cassian and Rhysand, but me? Emerie told Mor with a grumble, taking a sip of the mimosa Mor loved so dearly and twisting her nose in distaste. This is disgusting.

You’ll grow used to it. Mor responded with a coquettish wink that had Emerie’s core tightening.

After breakfast and a day spent in the city you found yourself alone in your room - or rather Azriel’s room - once again mulling over Eris’s words.

Your mate. Your mate. Your mate.

You finished tying the bow in your hair, admiring the lush blue satin and thinking of the Shadowsinger who’d gifted it to you just hours earlier, coyly suggesting you wear it to dinner tonight before disappearing to take care of his own Spymaster business.

You smoothed the hand-painted bodice of your cobalt blue dress. Diaphanous silks spilled out from your waist, melting into darker hues where the dress stopped at your ankles. It had been decades since you’d worn such finery, but unlike the dresses you’d been forced to wear for Dawn Court functions, this one you’d chosen for yourself.

You hoped Azriel wouldn’t mind you stealing his colors in such dramatic fashion, even if he had gifted you the ribbon without seeing the rest of your planned outfit.

You frowned at your reflection, pale plum lips turning down.

Rhysand and Azriel had been highly insistent on you staying in the Night Court until the end of next month. For Rhysand it was because he wanted to repay you for the swords you’d crafted for him and his brothers - you’d safely hidden them away in your workshop before the Autumn Court males had torn through the place. For Azriel it was because he wanted you to heal in lavish comfort - which Rhysand was more than willing to fund - and because he couldn’t stand the thought of being separated from you ever again.

But with every pair of trousers, shirts, shoes, and elegant dresses that started to fill your half of Azriel’s wardrobe, you began to wonder - if you were truly Azriel’s mate, why hadn’t he said anything yet? Why hadn’t you felt anything yet?

Everyone else certainly seemed to be under the impression that you’d be staying. That they just needed to wait for your permission before fully absorbing you into their wonderful family.

Mor had clung to your arm on shopping trips, charming you with her personality and pointing out places in the city and around the River House where you might set up a workshop. Rhysand had already set up an account for you at the city banks, and the last time you’d checked, he’d thrown in such a large sum that your mother would faint if she ever saw the balance books. You’d even gotten roped into joining a book club with Emerie, Gwyn, and Nesta.

Had Eris only been lying about you two being mates? Or maybe Azriel wanted you, but in a different way…

While you continued contemplating this, Azriel slipped into the room in his usual preternaturally silent way, freezing immediately when he saw you standing in front of the mirror.

Your dress… He swallowed. Gods you were breathtaking. The bodice laced in the front, velvet blue cords snaking down fabric hand-painted with swirls of dark ink that spilled down your skirts and seemed to collect in a pool along the hem. Your arms were still free to move and you’d decided to forgo slippers for your new favorite pair of boots. The supple leather was molded perfectly to your feet and had, as of yet, been spared the mark of hard labor.

And the ribbon… gods the ribbon. It hung down your back and over your shoulder like a curl of shadow.

You were breathtaking. No more or less breathtaking than the day he’d first met you, just in a different way.

So why did you look displeased?

You wiped the expression from your face when you felt Azriel’s presence in the room, turning around slowly with a proud, but shy smile on your face.

“What do you think?” You asked as he slid across the room with silent footsteps. His eyes traced over you, pausing on the bodice laces and the ribbon, like he had half a mind to tug both until they unraveled. “Not my usual garb, I know.”

“I like it.” He insisted, voice as soft and silky as the shadows that wound around your waist and pulled you close to him. He replaced the shadows with his hands, hands moving to your back where they rubbed calming circles. “You’re wearing blue.” He said rather dumbly, still in awe.

He wanted to say, You’re wearing my color. But that was overly possessive of him to think you’d worn the dress for him. He didn’t have a monopoly on all things blue. And yet the fabric matched his siphons so perfectly that his hands disappeared in the folds of your skirts.

“I am.”

He stilled, and then carefully asked, “Are you… displeased by it? You didn’t look particularly happy when I came in.”

You looked down, escaping his gaze, “No! I like the dress. I picked it myself with Feyre and Mor last week. Do you like it?”

“I love it. You’re beautiful, Y/n.”

Ask him now. Just ask him.

Azriel felt your nerves roiling in your stomach through the bond. The bond you still had no idea about. A pang of guilt slivered into his heart. He had wanted to tell you the first night at the House of Wind, when the mating bond had finally snapped in place so powerfully he’d almost gotten down to his knees in front of Madja’s questioning gaze. But then he’d seen your back, and that wave of anger from Icaryon Hill had returned to him ten-fold. Telling you about the mating bond paled in comparison to the need to give you space to heal, to be happy and safe and cared for. So even though it felt like his blood was boiling in his veins and his heart would leap out of his chest, he’d slipped into bed beside you that night and every night afterwards, content to just hold you as close to his chest as possible and get drunk off your intoxicating scent.

You’d told him you were happy in the Night Court. You’d filled his wardrobe and his heart with more of your things as you traversed Velaris and fell in love with the city.

“Have I done something wrong?” His voice was quiet, tinged with a child-like guilt that he’d carried around with him ever since he was young. A guilt that made him want to beg you to love him, even though he hadn’t been able to protect you like you should have.

“What?” You looked at him in alarm, “No! No, you’ve done nothing wrong, Az. Nothing.”

He deflated in your arms, nuzzling into your neck so you felt every sigh breeze against your throat.

“Why would you ask me that?”

He gave only the barest shrug of his shoulders. Then he began to kiss your exposed neck, gently tugging aside the thick straps of your dress to kiss your shoulders. You shivered when he reached the new scar tissue, soft lips tracing their pattern like he wanted to smooth the skin there and erase the pain of what had happened.

His shadows condensed around you both, reflecting the anguish he kept simmering beneath the surface. You wove your fingers through his night-black hair and he relaxed beneath your hands.

Ask him now. Just ask him.

“Azriel? Why haven’t you said anything about the mating bond yet?” You blurted out before you could lose your courage.

Azriel jolted back like you’d slapped him, pupils blown.

“You…” He exhaled heavily, “You know?”

“Eris told me. But when you never said anything, I figured he might have been lying about it or that maybe you didn’t want me to know or something-”

“No.” Azriel cut in quickly. He had no idea how Eris had found out about the mating bond when his brothers weren’t even aware, but that was a mystery to be solved another day. “I wanted to tell you. Please know that I wanted to tell you.”

“So it’s true.” You said breathlessly, feeling your chest clench in anticipation. “We’re mates.”

Azriel became a solid block of ice, silent and foreboding. You were nervously shifting from foot to foot, pressing your hands tightly against his chest and that made him feel sick to his stomach. Finally he nodded, steeling himself for the worst and praying for the best.

It took a moment for the words to fully seep into your mind and into your heart. Then your face broke in a grin that put the sun, moon, and stars to shame.

“We’re mates?!” You shrieked with laughter, leaping into his arms and throwing your arms around his neck. “You bastard! You absolute bastard!”

Azriel dared to laugh back, melting into you like cream on a summer day.

Bastard suddenly seemed like quite a pleasant title when it came from your lips.

He wrapped his strong arms around your waist, spinning you around before he could help himself.

When you felt the bond for the first time, it wasn’t some thunderous crack in the air or some shifting of the bones of your soul. It was more like twirling around in Azriel’s room with his hands flat against your back until you both stumbled back into the bed, something gentle and solid sliding into place and setting the air abuzz with gripping clarity. Like metal melting and fusing together into something impenetrable.

You stroked the bond, a rumble of pleasure leaving Azriel’s body.

Hello there, my love. You said softly.

His eyes became pools of liquid gold.

Hello, Y/n.

Your heart fluttered in your chest like an ecstatic bird. The feeling didn’t dissipate as Azriel led you down ethereal arched hallways to the balcony where a small banquet table had been laid out for his family - yours too now.

You were very aware that your hair was disheveled and that your skirts were crinkled despite the efforts of Azriel’s shadows to make you presentable. You could only hope that the color you’d swiped over your lips wasn’t as smeared as you suspected it was.

Azriel, on the other hand, looked as flawless as he always did. Not a single hair out of place. He’d somehow even managed to wipe the pale plum lipstick off his mouth and his neck in the time it took to walk downstairs to dinner.

Cassian sputtered on his wine, spitting half of it out on the black lace table.

Gwyn squealed in excitement, blue robes billowing as she shot up from her seat and clapped her hands.

“I called it! Nesta, you owe me fifty gold.”

“For fuck’s sake.” Nesta grumbled, a leather bag appearing in her hand which she deftly threw in the priestess’s direction. “You couldn’t have waited another two weeks?” But a smile of approval pulled at the edges of her lips.

Rhys and Feyre leaned into one another as Mor, Emerie, and even Amren stood from their chairs, prepared to offer their congratulations.

Azriel tightened his hold on your waist, pulling you even closer to his side like he wanted to be absorbed into you. A deep hunger lay barely concealed behind a facade of nonchalance. But he managed to hold that all back when the females approached, but to Cassian he gave a growl of warning.

Cassian gasped, clutching at his chest, “My brother. My own flesh and blood. What is this betrayal?”

“Technically you’re both adopted. No blood relation.” Rhys called out from a safe distance away at the end of the table. He lifted his wine in acknowledgement, grinning brightly at the two of you. Unlike Cassian, he had a slightly better grip on his self-preservation skills.

“Shut the fuck up, Rhys.” Cassian said, rolling his eyes and retreating back to his seat glumly, “Well at least sit down! We’ve been waiting for you both.”

You glanced at Az and he finally smiled, bowing his head to your neck and gently pressing kisses there. You slid forward out of his hands before you could fall prey to more of his tempting touches.

Soon. You promised, clicking your tongue. He’d been touching you incessantly ever since the bond fell into place. So impatient.

Azriel sent another wave of longing through the bond. He’d waited over five hundred years and then some for you. You didn’t want him to have to wait much longer.

You snatched an empty plate and cutlery from the table before piling it haphazardly with lamb, garlic-roasted potatoes, and a few other mouth-watering offerings before finishing it off with a slice of lavender cake.

Azriel looked all too pleased when you returned to his side. In fact he looked equally, if not more, flustered than you as you gripped the plate with an iron grip.

Everyone else stared in shock, almost overcome by the way Azriel was nearly bursting apart at the seams.

He was ravenous and wanting and looked ready to shred your bodice to ribbons. He didn’t know how he’d been able to control himself back in the bedroom.

“We’ll see you in a couple of weeks.” You said, offering no more explanation.

A month. Azriel chimed in.

“A month.” You amended and Azriel smiled. “Maybe more…” His smile grew even wider.

Without another word, Azriel swooped down and gathered you in his arms, leaping off the balcony in a flurry of wings, shadow, and blue skirts. Your laughter rang in his ears all the way to the cabin he kept tucked away in the Illyrian Mountains, a cabin not even his brothers knew about.

There amongst the snow laden mountaintops, you buried yourself in his arms and in his love. You stripped him down to nothing and he tore your dress to pieces, promising he’d buy you all the blue dresses you could ever want.

I like when you wear my color. He revealed after you he had you splayed out in a sea of tattered cobalt fabric

You giggled in his ear. At least let me wear the ribbon then.

Azriel groaned in response, collapsing on top of you and stealing kisses like he needed them to breathe.

He let you wear the ribbon.

He let you wear nothing but the ribbon.

Back in Azriel’s room at the River House - your room - Sunseeker hung on the wall, thrumming with a pleased and subtle power. Nightshade called out from next to her, a dark twin of obsidian and blue pearl. Her equal in every way.

Two blades for two mates.

<- Previous Chapter

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#azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger x reader #azriel x mate reader #acotar fanfiction #acotar #I do not write smut so I will leave it at the ribbon #if you want smut #don't worry #plenty of other people write smut

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munson-blurbs · 1 year

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Chapter 1: Got the News Today, Doctor Said I Had to Stay

Collaboration with the fabulous @corroded-hellfire

Series Summary: Based on the Jonas Brothers song of the same name. You and Eddie share a hospital room in the wake of Hawkins' turmoil, striking up an unlikely friendship that could lead to much more.

Chapter Summary: When you're stuck in the hospital after the Hawkins "earthquake," you're surprised to find comfort in your new roommate, Eddie Munson. But when you find out that your injuries may compromise your dreams, the cheery façade threatens to come crashing down.

Warnings: eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI!), Eddie survives the Upside Down, hospital, mentions of surgery, controlled use of pain medication

WC: 3.9k

A/N: There will be six chapters to this series, one for each Jonas Brothers album. Try to spot the Easter eggs we've planted throughout!

Divider credit to @firefly-graphics

“I said, get this murderer out of my room!” A shrill voice from across the hall startles you from your sleep. The digital clock on the bedside table reads 7:05, but you can’t be sure if it’s morning or evening. The bright lights of Hawkins General Hospital have your internal clock all jumbled, and the constant barrage of nurses checking on you certainly doesn’t help.

“He should be locked up in prison or rotting on death row, not using precious resources that could be used on law-abiding citizens!” the shrieking woman continues, and you grimace as your head throbs. It seems like the pain never ceases; it only travels around your body. You’ve been here for two days, and you have more questions than answers.

There’s quiet for a few moments before the door to your room swings open and a second bed is being wheeled in, more IV lines hooked up to the poor patient than you’ve got going on. A nurse pulls the curtain separating the two sides of the room before you can get a look at whoever is lying in the bed.

“Well, that was a record,” a male voice says from the other side of the curtain. “How long before that one freaked out? Six minutes?”

No one answers the man, but you can hear nurses and orderlies setting up any equipment the patient would need.

“Don’t blame them,” a woman eventually mumbles, moving a machine over. “Kid killed a cheerleader and then fled the scene. I wouldn’t wanna bunk with him, either.”

A new pair of footsteps joins the crowded room, but this time it’s just your nurse, Mandy, coming in to check on you. She’s a pretty blonde woman, and though she’s usually smiling, her lips are puckered into a pout.

“I know this is far from ideal,” she says softly, checking your vitals and marking notes on her chart, “but we’ll have people in here making sure nothing happens, okay?”

“I think she’s pretty harmless, just loud,” you lightly joke, assuming that Mandy’s referring to the banshee across the hall. “Worst thing she’ll do is trigger a migraine.”

She shakes her head. “No, hon. I’m talking about your, uh, new roommate. Edward Munson.”

Well, that explains the whole murderer outburst. Still, you can’t help but roll your eyes. “Eddie? I went to school with him. Guy couldn’t even be bothered to turn in his part of a group project; I highly doubt he could pull off a murder.” You’d think he would have had something done, considering it was his second time taking O’Donnell’s senior English class, but he’d shown up empty-handed, leaving his poor partner scrambling at the last minute.

Mandy nods, looking a little relieved herself. Maybe the thought of her having to be his nurse had been eating at her.

“Is he awake?” you ask. You can only assume he’s not, because the Eddie Munson you remembered would never have been quiet for this long.

“Sleeping,” Mandy says. “How are you feeling? Do you need anything?”

“Um.” You wrinkle up your nose as you think, a sharp pain taking that moment to shoot down your leg. “When can I get some more pain medication? And food?”

Going through the papers in your chart, Mandy’s eyes scan lines of writing until she comes to the answer she needs. “You’ve got about forty-five minutes until I can give you your next dose. Luckily, dinner should be here quicker than that.”

“Okay,” you say with a sigh, sinking back against your pillows.

After another round of pain meds, you’re able to drift off into a light sleep. You don’t have dreams on the medication; you’re simply floating in a haze of pinks and purples. Perhaps the dreamlessness is a good thing, considering the memories buried deep inside your unconscious mind. Your roommate is not so fortunate.

“No! Stop!” Eddie whimpers from the bed next to you, startling you from your sleep. You can see through the translucent curtain that he’s trying to thrash, but his injuries limit his movements. “Henderson, help me! Get me out of here!”

“Hey,” you whisper, but when he cries out again, you raise your voice slightly. “Eddie, wake up!”

“I won’t run away, didn’t run away, gotta save Chrissy,” he mumbles, still trapped in his nightmare. “Don’t let me die. Don’t wan’ die.” The urgency in his tone falters, and you realize that he’s crying.

“Eddie, you’re alive!” you call out to him, wishing you had the strength to walk to him and shake him awake. “You survived the earthquake, okay? But you gotta wake up!”

You watch as he jolts up involuntarily, groaning loudly as pain blooms throughout his torso. “Fuck,” he moans, clutching his ribs with one arm. “Wha—where am I? Oh, shit.” He lays back down as the realization sets in. He tries to choke back a sob, inadvertently sending himself into a coughing fit.

“Here,” you call out to him, grabbing the cup of water on your bedside table. “Can you open the curtain and reach?”

Eddie’s able to yank back the cloth fabric, but neither of you can move close enough for him to grasp onto the cup. The two of you are confined to hospital beds, arms outstretched pathetically just to pass a glass of water. The scene is so absurd that you have to laugh.

“You think—cough—this is—cough—funny?” Eddie asks, but his grin indicates that he also finds it amusing. “I survived the Up—earthquake, and—cough—now I’m gonna die from—cough—lack of water?”

“‘M sorry,” you manage between peals of laughter. “I’m just imagining how ridiculous we’d look to someone passing by.”

Eddie uses his last bit of strength to lunge, finally securing the cup and guzzling down the water. “Thanks, um…” He cranes his neck to see your name written on the whiteboard above your bed. “Oh, shit! Did we go to high school together?”

You nod. “We did. I graduated last year. We had Mrs. O’Donnell’s English class together.”

He wrinkles his nose at the mention of his least favorite teacher. “Ugh, yeah. I mean, not ugh that we had a class together; ugh at O’Donnell,” he blabbers. “And an extra ugh for me having to take that class again this year.”

“I thought a certain metalhead was missing from graduation,” you tease.

“Aw, you noticed?” Eddie’s smirk makes you laugh, the pain meds probably adding to your bubbly mood.

“Well, no one caused a commotion or flipped off old man Higgins, so yeah,” you say. “And there was a distinct lack of Black Sabbath blaring through the parking lot.”

It’s Eddie’s turn to laugh. “Gotta stay inspired, y’know? I don’t want to be one of those musicians who has someone write their shit for them. It makes it less real, or whatever.”

You raise your eyebrows. “You write all of Corroded Coffin’s music?” you ask incredulously.

Eddie nods. “Well, me and the rest of the guys—wait,” he pauses, eyes narrowing with suspicion, “you know the name of my band?”

“Mhm,” you pick at the itchy wool blanket draped over your legs. “You played at the middle school talent show. I was in seventh grade, so you must’ve been in eighth.”

He doesn’t say anything for a bit; he just studies your face until a huge grin forms from cheek to cheek. “You’re the dancer!” he exclaims, snapping his fingers. “You did that routine with the, um, the fancy shoes…”

“Pointe shoes,” you giggle. “Yeah, people weren’t too impressed. Apparently a twelve-year-old flailing on stage to Swan Lake was not the hit I’d thought it’s be.”

“Flailing?” Eddie shakes his head. “Nah, you were amazing. Don’t tell my friends, but I, uh, secretly wanted you to win.”

“Me?!”

“Yeah, you.” He matches your surprised tone, making you laugh again. “I thought it was totally badass, getting up there and doing ballet when all the other girls were jumping around to Blondie.”

“Don’t knock Debbie Harry,” you warn him teasingly, poking your forefinger in his direction. “She is an icon, and you will show her some respect.”

Eddie brings a hand to his heart. “My deepest apologies, to both you and Ms. Harry.” He flashes another sweet smile that could melt an iceberg. “But I really did want you to win. I’ve always rooted for the underdog.”

“Well, I appreciate it.” And you do. It’s nice to know that someone besides your parents believed in you.

“You, uh, you still dance?” Eddie asks abruptly.

“Yup,” you tell him, sitting up a bit straighter. “It’s actually what I go to school for.”

“Good,” Eddie muses, averting his gaze from your side of the room. “You were too talented to give that up.”

You’re about to respond when there’s a knock on the door and you see an orderly walk in with a food tray. You drop your head back on your pillow, humming your happiness. The orderly sets your table within your reach before placing your tray on it. Before the man can even step out the door to grab Eddie’s food, you’re inhaling the soup you’ve been given. You’re distantly aware as Eddie gets his food, but you’re busy trying to figure out what type of soup it is. Is that potato in it?

A groan from the other side of the curtain has you looking in Eddie’s direction as you swallow a mouthful of soup.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“Nothing,” Eddie says, clearly lying.

“If we’re going to be roommates, we’re going to have to learn to be honest with one another.”

He huffs a laugh as he clangs his silverware together. “S’just that it’s gonna sound ridiculously stupid after what everyone has been through.”

“Humor me,” you say before ladling another spoonful of soup in your mouth.

“Fine,” Eddie says with a sigh. “I got green Jell-O. I hate that shit.”

Your eyes lock on your own Jell-O, bright red where it sits next to your piece of bread and cup of water. “How do you feel about red?”

“Much better,” Eddie says, tearing off a piece of his own bread and shoving it into his mouth.

“Wanna trade?” you offer.

“Y’don’t have to do that,” he says through his full mouth.

“Nah, come on,” you say. “Besides, green’s my favorite color.”

Eddie looks over at you, a skeptical look on his face as he chews. But you pick up your sealed cup of Jell-O and toss it over to him. Smiling, he throws the green in return, which you manage to catch.

“Thanks,” he says. You hum in acknowledgment as you tear off the foil lid.

There’s a beat of silence as you both eat what Hawkins General considers dessert. “I don’t know how you like the green one,” Eddie pipes up.

You shrug. “Jell-O is Jell-O,” you say nonchalantly, taking a big spoonful to emphasize your point.

“Nuh uh,” Eddie shakes his head, wincing at the twinge of pain it causes. “Cherry is the superior flavor, and everyone knows it.” He slurps it obnoxiously, making you roll your eyes.

“Geez, how does Chrissy put up with you?” Your tone is light and joking, so you’re taken aback by the darkness that takes over his face. “What?”

“How do you know about Chrissy?” he asks, voice barely audible.

Your face heats up; you’d forgotten that he didn’t know you’d heard him talking in his sleep. “Um, you said something about saving her when you were having that nightmare,” you admit, softening when you realize how vulnerable he is. “Is she your girlfriend?”

“No, she isn’t—wasn’t,” he amends. “She was the girl who died in my trailer. But I…I didn’t kill her, I swear.” Eddie looks over at you with misty eyes. “I can’t tell you what happened, but you have to believe me.”

You hold his gaze. “I believe you,” you murmur, quiet but assured.

The two of you go back to your food, plastic utensils scraping styrofoam bowls, until Eddie speaks up again. “You…you said I talked about Chrissy in my sleep?”

“Mhm.”

“What else did I say?” He looks ambivalent, like he’s unsure if he wants to know what his subconscious mind churned up.

You think back for a moment. “You asked someone for help, and then you said you didn’t want to, um…you didn’t want to die.” Your eyes flit over to his side of the room, but he’s practically boring a hole in his Jell-O cup with how intently he’s staring at it.

“Did you tell me to wake up? That I survived?” He finally allows himself to make eye contact with you, a trace of a smile dancing on his lips.

“Yeah—I can never remember if you’re supposed to let the nightmare end naturally, but you seemed really upset.” You gnaw on your lower lip anxiously.

Eddie rests his head on the pillow. “God, this is gonna sound corny as hell,” he starts, chuckling to himself, “but when you did that, it was like…I saw brightness, y’know? Not like, Eddie, come into the light,” he drops his voice an octave and wiggles his fingers, making you giggle, “but like the sun was coming out from behind the clouds. Does that make sense?”

You nod, watching him exhale in relief.

“Guess you’re my sunshine then, huh?” He gives you a shy smile that you easily return, trying to push down the spark of electricity that seems to flow between you.

“Hey, how about this?” Eddie asks as he lands on a channel. Your eyes feel like they’re going to roll back in your head when you see a NASCAR race on tiny television.

“Absolutely not,” you answer.

“Aw, come on,” Eddie says, shit-eating grin on his face. “It’s an American pastime.”

“It’s one big left turn, is what it is,” you shout. “Toss me the remote?” Eddie chuckles and goes to throw it your way before you wince and add, “Watch the leg!”

He’s careful to avoid the area as he sends it your way, but his eyes drift down the blanket at the mention of your limb. “Is that why you’re in here?”

“No, I’ve always wanted to vacation here,” you reply, maintaining a deadpan expression.

“I hear the eleventh floor is just wonderful this time of year,” Eddie throws back, feigning a posh British accent. Terribly, you might add. “How bad is it?” he presses, motioning towards your leg.

“Dunno yet,” you answer honestly. “They took some x-rays and did a bunch of scans; now I’m just waiting for the doctor. They’re probably just overwhelmed.”

Eddie nods. “Nothing like a good, old-fashioned earthquake to shake things up.” He raises his eyebrows, waiting for you to react to his pun. Nothing. “Oh, c’mon! That was a good one!”

“You’re a comedic genius, Eddie Munson,” you joke, and he flips you off, nearly snagging the IV tube pinching his skin. “I’m sure everything’s fine. I’ll probably be in a cast for six weeks, maybe have to do some physical therapy. This isn’t my first broken bone.”

“How do you do that?” Eddie muses.

“Do what?”

“Be so…positive,” he explains sheepishly. “I mean, you could be all bitter or anxious, but you’re calm, cool, and collected.” He fiddles with his fingers, frowning as though something is missing. “You really are a ray of sunshine, huh?”

“That’s me.” Truthfully, you’re worried that this could be more than just a run-of-the-mill break, but you don’t let that fear seep through. Instead, you aim the remote at the tiny TV in the corner of the room, settling on a soap opera rerun. It’s not what you’d usually watch, but you’re determined to get your revenge for his NASCAR escapades earlier.

To your chagrin, Eddie’s enthralled with the on-screen drama. “Oh, shit!” He rubs his hands together. “Is this the one where Shelby sleeps with Theo and his identical twin brother, Mark?” He chuckles at the bemused look on your face. “I got hooked on this show when I was home with the flu last year,” he confesses, though he doesn’t look the least bit ashamed.

“Eddie Munson, secret soap opera aficionado?” You waggle your eyebrows. “Scandalous. What will your fans think?”

“I am what I am, Sunshine.” He sits up a little straighter as a woman with big hair and even bigger breasts shoves ultrasound photos at an impossibly handsome man. “No fuckin’ way!” Eddie gasps. “She’s knocked up!”

“How did you not see that coming? It’s like the oldest trick in the book!” you ask incredulously. “Now she has to figure out which brother is the dad.”

Eddie’s beautiful brown eyes widen in shock. “But they’re identical! How’s she gonna do that?”

“Guess you’ll just have to watch and find out!” you chirp, giggling as he lets out an impatient sigh.

“Mr. Munson?” a nurse calls from the doorway, pushing an empty wheelchair. “We’re ready to run your tests. Just have to transfer you to the chair.” She pats the back of it, trying to keep some level of professionalism, but you can tell that she’s nervous being around an alleged murderer. She holds out her hand to help Eddie out of bed, and he shoots you a tight grin.

“I’m goin’ commando under here, Sunshine,” he warns you. “Look away. This show ain’t free.”

You cover your eyes dramatically as he plops into the chair, grunting and groaning the whole way down. “Is it safe?”

“You’re good,” Eddie reassures you as the nurse starts to wheel him out of the room. “Hey, let me know who the father is when I get back. My money’s on Theo.”

You narrow your eyes. “How much money?”

“Hmm,” Eddie taps his chin with his forefinger, pretending to be deep in thought. “It won’t be as much as usual, since I already bought a beach house and a Jaguar this year…$3,000 sound good?”

You give him a little salute, turning your attention back to the show. Settling in against the pillows, you get immersed in the show yourself, rooting for some characters, and wanting some to get stabbed in the backs like they deserve. Just as it comes back to Shelby’s storyline, your doctor walks in, a tight smile on his lips.

“What’s the news, Dr. Sanoj?”

“Well,” he says, looking down at the chart in his hands. “Like we suspected, it’s your femur. It was crushed pretty badly. It’s going to need a few pins in it, which will require some surgery.”

Letting a deep sigh fall from your lips, you nod your head. “Okay. Was kind of expecting that.”

“Now, we won’t know for sure until we get in there and take a look at things, but there’s a chance you’ll need a mobility aid to help you get around.”

“What do you mean?” you ask, brows pinching in confusion. “Like crutches?”

“Crutches are one type of aid, yes. But they range in variety. It’s things like wheelchairs, walkers, canes. But this will be a better discussion for once we see how the surgery turns out,” Dr. Sanoj says.

“Would I need to use one forever?” The sympathetic look that softens your doctor’s face lets you know he heard the trepidation in your voice. “Will I be able to dance again?”

“Like I said,” Dr. Sanoj says, “this discussion is best for once the surgery is done.”

You nod your head, knowing you probably won’t be able to get any further information on the subject out of him. “When will I have the surgery?”

“Scheduling is going to work that out and they should let you know by the end of the day. You can expect to be here the days following the surgery, but you shouldn’t be cooped up in these hospital walls for too much longer. You’ll get there, you’ll see. One day at a time.”

“Thank you, Doctor.”

A funk has taken over you once Dr. Sanoj leaves the room. A mobility aid? Could you dance with one of those? Surgery and recovery you planned on, but the goal was always to get you back in the dance studio, and needing a device to help you simply get around was not what you had been expecting.

Allowing yourself to stew in your own self pity for a few moments, you realize you’ve missed the big reveal on which brother is the father of Shelby’s baby. You’ll have to tell Eddie that. Explain the doctor came in and you were talking to him. But, you think to yourself, Eddie doesn’t need to know just what rough shape your leg is in. He calls you his sunshine, doesn’t he? That would just bring some gray clouds that he did not need in his life. He’s got a lot going on and is going to need to keep his spirits up. That’ll be easier for you to do if you pretend like everything is rainbows and lollipops.

The door opens and Eddie is wheeled back inside, groaning in pain as he holds a hand over his ribs.

“Right here with the pain medicine,” Nurse Mandy says, stepping in behind him.

“Oh, please be mine,” Eddie says, watching the bundle in Mandy’s hands like a hawk. “Sorry roomie, I think I need it more than you do right now.”

“S’all yours,” you tell him.

Mandy sets a bag of IV fluid up as the transporter helps Eddie get back in bed. His face is pale, and you’ve learned that comes when agonizing pain is ripping through you.

“Okay, Mr. Munson. Should start hitting you at any minute now,” Mandy says.

“Thanks,” Eddie says, letting his eyes drift closed. He stays that way after both the nurse and the transporter leave the room. You think he’s fallen asleep until he speaks again. “So, which brother was it?”

“Ah, sorry, Eddie,” you say. “Doc came in and I was talking with him, so I think I missed it.”

“Good news?” Eddie’s opened his eyes and turns his head to look at you, genuine concern written across his face.

For a moment, you contemplate spilling everything: the surgery, the mobility aid, the possibility of never dancing again. But you shove it deep down, determined to keep your cheery disposition that he so desperately needs. “Y-Yeah, everything’s looking ship-shape.” Ship-shape? You’re a terrible liar, but Eddie doesn’t seem to notice.

“Thas’ good shit.” From the dreamy quality his voice is taking in, you can tell the pain meds are starting to take effect.

“How’re you feeling?” you ask.

“Sore as hell from how they had to maneuver me for x-rays. But I feel the medicine kicking in.” A smile comes to his face and you can tell the giddiness of the high is hitting him. “Time for me to fly.”

You giggle and turn your attention back to the television. A game show is on now, so you snuggle in to play along. The contestant is getting an obvious puzzle wrong and it makes you roll your eyes. You’re about to say something to Eddie about it, but then his soft snores reach your ears. Turning your head to look at him, you notice how peaceful he looks. All you can do is pray he stays that way and isn’t plagued by any other nightmares.

Sunshine, he calls you. It’s the nicest nickname you’ve ever been given. You’re hoping you can keep that bright and optimistic attitude up enough to help him out when the clouds come rolling in. It’s not a one-way street, though. Eddie is going to be your light, your breath of fresh air, your optimism. You just don’t know it yet.

#albl #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie x you #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things

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cupcakeslushie · 4 months

Note

LITA MAY LITA MAY LITA MAY

Ok ok so I have like a bunch of questions feel free to ignore BUT

I) she has a tail. Is that a Kraang feature or do all the turtles in your universe have tails and hers is just extended?

II) Uh pink? Pink like Kraang? Did she choose her life colors, or???

III) Is. Is she. Is she autistic too

IV) Draxum-Hamato sooooo what does she call them? Did they argue about nicknames? Also was it Donnie’s choice to include Draxum’s name as well

V) Lita in the comics???

VI) Is there a reason her shell isn’t smooth like Donnie’s?

VII) What does she call Renet?

VIII) Ninpo question mark?

IX) Pupils! I love the way you draw her pupils. Is there a reason or is it just fun

X) Does she have a certain resistance to Kraang mind digging? Like that thing they did to interrogate Raph in the movie? To read his memories?

XI) So the cloak/scarf thing is Leo, the purple accents and stripes are Donnie, and the kneepads are Mikey. Any Raph references in her clothes?

Apologies if you’ve answered these before and I just didn’t see them! Have a good day and give Lita one too for goodness sakes girl’s had it rough already

1. It’s more of a Krang feature. I do love when the turtles are drawn with tails, but I didn’t do it from the beginning, and so for consistency sake in the EW universe I’ve held off. Maybe one day I’ll just say “fuck it” and give into the urge to give them all cute little tails. But even if I did, Lita’s would be much longer than any of the family’s (except Raph’s hypothetical tail lol).

2. Lita being albino and pink in the IDW comics pretty much made that Krang connection for me lol. I didn’t have to reach too hard with her design. She leans into it.

3. I have her personality very close to Leo’s canon personality, so she’s more on the ADHD side. She does have some sensory issues with sound, which a lot of ppl with adhd have (👋🏻). But being raised around the quiet and solemn Time Masters Sanctum it’s like really noticeable. When she visits the family, it can be very overwhelming, but rather than shutting down, she gets insanely riled up and can’t contain herself. It works though—everyone is more than happy to let her ramble on.

4. She never met either of them but Splinter of course would’ve been Jiji and Draxum would’ve been just Grandfather. Nothing too out of this world lol. And yes, Donnie chooses to embrace Draxum’s name.

5. Sorry idk what exactly this is asking. Like yes? Lita May is based off IDW Lita, from the comics 😅 sorry if I’m missing the question.

6. She is a spiny soft shell like Donnie, but yes, her spines are significantly more pronounced, thanks to, you guessed it!

7. Master Renet, or Aunty Ren in a more causal setting.

8. 🤫 we’ll see (I’m still trying to think of something cool and not too OP lol)

9. Her eyes are just for design fun, and to link her to Donnie some more!

10. That’s gonna be another big 🤫, but less because I haven’t decided and more just for the big spoilers! 😜

11. She’s kinda got two outfits atm and I think I might end up merging the two. Her simpler outfit of just her wraps and mask are very Raph coded, so I wanna figure out some sort of middle ground with the two.

#rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rottmnt doomed future #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #baby mayday #rottmnt separated au #separated au #Sep!au infodump #sep!au doomed future #ask slushie #rise Lita

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agendabymooner · 5 months

Text

breaking curses, not hearts ! charles l. x ofc (atkinson!actress!ofc)

summary: charles leclerc and his girlfriend frankie bardot atkinson, as a pair, were known for their lack of successes in their respective careers as a formula one driver and an actress. perhaps this was the year when their defeats would come to a close? OR, the year when losing became a series of first time victories for the couple.

content warning: use of explicit language, rowan atkinson’s daughter!ofc (also briefly mentions brigitte bardot and fictional bardot character), ofc is called a nepo baby once, celebrity crush to lover trope, based off a request in my inbox

faceclaim: emma stone (ofc’s filmography is based on the actress)

note: this is the last one for now! the request has been sitting on my inbox for a couple days now so i’m sorry anon! i tried to make it as close to as you requested so i hope you enjoy xx

a - n masterlist

o - z masterlist

i. charles = frankie’s biggest fan

ii. things they done did: ate — the day frankie broke the curse

FRANKIE BARDOT ATKINSON WINS THE ‘BEST ACTRESS’ AWARD by the academy

tagged frandebardot

liked by pierregasly, landonorris, lewishamilton

user1 oscar winning gf 🤧

user2 making mark in hollywood and f1– live laugh love frankie bardot atkinson ❤️

user3 OKAY BUT HER CALLING HIM CHARLIE DURING HER SPEECH?!

user4 mom and dad fr

lewishamilton well deserved! congratulations frankie! 🙏

arthur_leclerc can’t wait to brag to my friends about having an oscar winning in-law 😇😇

frandebardot merci mon amour! ❤️ liked by charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc only for the best mon ange

iii. monza aka the day charles broke the curse

tagged charles_leclerc

liked by pierregasly, carlossainzjr, arthur_leclerc

comments have been limited

scuderiaferrari it’s the power of love that did it ❤️

charles_leclerc winning the championship for you, amour 😍 liked by frandebardot

frandebardot i believe in you ❤️

iv. lifting curses, loving the other and all of that shit

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sweetlittlegingy · 2 years

Text

Can't Breath Whenever You're Gone

✦ Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Better Man Universe

✦Pairing: Father Figure Jake x Single!Mom

✦Word Count: 5.2 k

✦Warnings: Ansty, Fluff, slight smut (Jake calls himself daddy once), pregnancy, deployment, sad Maty

✦A/n: I have tried to post this like 8 times, it better work. I'm sorry for the wait guys, I hope you like it! Lots of love - G

✦Library (Follow for updates! I no longer have a taglist.)

The low ache in your back had become a constant; leaning down to pick up the second batch of laundry, the six-month belly just out of the way. Rising back up, one arm carrying the laundry, the other caressing your more than noticeable bump.

You feel a sharp kick, pressing your palm back into the spot, you can feel Little Miss move, pressing farther into your hand. A laugh falls from your lips, she wasn’t even here yet and she was stubborn just like her father.

The pregnancy came as a surprise, though you weren’t trying to avoid pregnancy, it still was a shock when you found out. The four pregnancy tests you’d taken, after being nauseous every morning for a week, proved that your family was about to grow by one.

The shock of it all, couldn’t stop the nerves from kicking in.

Your pregnancy with Mathew hadn’t been easy. Your nausea lasting the whole 40 weeks, making it hard for you to maintain a healthy weight. You ended up getting weekly IVs from the hospital and being up on two different nausea medications.

In the first trimester, this time nausea hit you hard and at all times of the day, the bathroom had become a second home, and Jake could barely handle it. Constantly at your side, holding your hair or rubbing your back. Mathew had been ecstatic when he found out, though the now six-and-a-half-year-old, had a hard time seeing you so sick.

Even having a conversation with your belly, telling the baby that they needed to be nice to you.

That was before you found out that you were having a girl, and thankfully the nausea had calmed after your fourteen-week mark, making your days actually enjoyable.

You’d been able to find out the sex of your baby just before Jake deployed when you were twenty weeks, and you’d both been thankful he could be with you in person to hear.

He’d been overjoyed when you the doctor told you. The smile never left his face on the drive home. Telling you, now that you had one of each, the next one could be a surprise.

You’d smacked him and told him, you wanted to get through this one before even thinking about another. Jake had only given you a teasing smile and kissed your hand, resting it in his lap for the drive home.

That was a month ago now, and all three of you were missing him terribly. Right after you’d found out you were pregnant; Jake had taken to talking to your stomach nightly. You’d told him that the peanut was too small, but he hadn’t cared. Holding nightly conversations with them, ranging from stories about flying, to what had happened during his day.

You’re sure that Little Miss had gotten used to her daddy’s voice, because now without his nightly talks, she has taken to becoming very active during the night. Mathew was having quite the time with Jake being gone as well. The first week he had cried every night and though his tears had slowed, the month had been wearing on the little guy.

Thankfully school kept his mind busy during the day, and Lacey had promised to call if he got upset during the day. Summer vacation was just around the corner for Maty and though he loved second grade, he was so excited about the year ahead. He was going full-time on base and Auntie Lacey, Bob’s wife, would be his teacher for third grade.

You were thankful for the relationship the two of you had developed over the last 2 years, she’d become one of your closest friends and was always there to help with Mathew.

When she found out that you were expecting and that the boys were getting deployed, she took up a permeant residence in your home. Taking over pick up and drop off completely, saying that your house was on her way to school anyway.

Your house was in fact a good bit out of her way, but you weren’t about to argue with the woman. Bob might have been quiet and shy in public, but his sweet, loving teacher of a wife, was anything but.

Lacey, like her third graders, was an endless ball of energy. She was the most positive person you’d ever met and extremely organized. But when she decided that something was going to happen, then it was happening. Her stubbornness rivaled that of Jakes. A fact that had you cackling, when the two of them bickered.

Placing the laundry away, you head back into the kitchen, looking for something to snack on before you start on dinner. Music streams out of the speaker on the counter, a playlist that you’d made after Jake threw you into the world that is 90’s country, on a trip to Texas. You’d fallen in love with the music, on a night out and always listened to it when Jake was gone.

You hum along to the beat of Brooks and Dunn, swaying your hips along to the music, hand resting on your bump. Little Miss takes to rolling around, clearly enjoying the music.

“You like that one sweetpea?” The song changes and she rolls again. “Your daddy’s gonna be pleased with your taste in music.”

You grab the strawberries out of the fridge, singing along to the music. Your mind wandering, sure that Jake and your little girl would have the exact relationship stated in the song.

“When she was three years old on her daddy's knee, he said you can be anything you want to be. She's a wild one, runnin' free.—”

The ringing of your phone cuts off your singing, Jake’s ringtone cutting through, and has you hurrying to pick it up. He rarely got to call you, the carrier was continuously going in and out of service, making it hard to talk.

You pick up the phone, lowering the volume of the music.

“Baby?”

“Hi, darlin’.” The sound of Jake's voice has you crying, your hormones working against you. The gasp that leaves your lips, alerts Jake of your crying.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

Your hand comes up, brushing the tears from your eyes, doing your best to stop them.

“It’s just my hormones Jakey.” You pause, trying to settle the quiver in your voice. “We just miss you.”

A sad laugh falls from your lips, wedging the phone between your shoulder and ear, you move to sit down. Both of your hands rubbing your swollen bump, calming yourself and Little Miss. She’d noticed you crying, when you were slightly gasping for breath, no doubt disturbing her.

“I know sweets, I’ll be home soon.”

You knew that he couldn’t give you a return date, the both of you silently hoping that it would be before your due date. While it was months away, this last month had gone by fast, and though you hadn’t told Jake, you were worried.

“How is everything? How are my babies?” His voice sounds tired, and you wonder how long it’s been since he’d slept properly.

He’d told you before, that sleeping on the carrier calmed him, and being able to do what he loved made the uncomfortable bed worth it. Though something had changed, shortly after Mathew had started calling Jake daddy, deployments started causing Jake more stress than joy.

He'd told you that he missed the both of you. Missed seeing you and Maty every day, but you could tell that there was more behind it. You hadn’t wanted to push him, but you worried and with you pregnant, the worrying had increased ten-fold.

You relay what had been going on in the last couple of days, and Jake silently listens. Humming occasionally, just happy to hear your voice and feel closer to you.

“She’s been moving around a lot more this last week and I’ve blown up like a balloon.” You’d loved that you could carry your angels, but without Jake here to love on you, your self-esteem had plummeted.

“I look like a damn whale Jake.” The topic causes another onset of tears to converge in your waterline. “And I can’t stop crying.”

“Oh baby, no you are so fucking gorgeous.”

“You can’t even see me, Jacob!” You didn’t mean to snap at him, and before you can apologize, Jake is laughing at you.

“Don’t need to see you, to know how gorgeous you look.” Pure love in his voice and has your tears drying up quickly.

“How did I get so lucky with you Mr. Seresin?” His laugh breaks through the phone, loud enough that it echoes in your quiet living room.

“I’m just that good Mrs. Seresin.”

Though you hadn’t tied the knot yet, the title became one used often. The engagement ring resting on your hand catches the afternoon sunlight and a soft smile graces your lips. “I love you.” The hand creasing your belly receives a sudden push and you watch as Little Miss turns, her outline faint through your tank top.

“I love you too darlin’.” You can hear the smile in his voice and decide to put Jake on speaker. Bringing the phone to your belly, you feel her move towards the sound as Jake tells you about his day.

“Darling, I think that someone is feeling left out of the conversation. I’ve got you resting on the belly and Little Miss is going crazy for her daddy.”

You hear the broken laugh crack through the phone and then you hear a soft sniffle.

“Hi baby girl, daddy misses you and your bubba so much.”

“Oh baby, I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

You hadn’t even thought about how telling Jake that the babies missed him, would make him feel. Though he was soft and sweet in front of you, in comparison to how he was with others, it was a rare sight to see Jake cry.

“No sweetheart, I just hate not being there. She’s never gonna be this little again, and Maty is going to third grade. I feel like I’m missing everything.” The shutter that echoes through the phone, has tears welling up in your eyes.

“I just never realized that it would hurt this much.”

You take a few deep breaths, trying to calm your own tears not wanting Jake to feel even worse, and eventually, you both calm down.

Jake talks to your belly; you sit listening and enjoying the sound of his voice. If you close your eyes, it almost feels like he’s back home with you. Though your conversation is cut short, when you hear Bradley over the phone. Muffled voices ring over the phone, grunting and you swear you hear someone yell ouch, before Bradley’s voice yells out your name.

“Hi B, how are you?” You can’t help the laugh that breaks from you when you hear, Bradley telling Jake that he has to share. That he needed to check on his little sister and Jake could get over it. That thought is followed by the sound of a smack and Bradley whining over the phone.

“He’s mean with he’s not with you, Y/n. Control your husband.”

“He’s not my husband yet B.” You’re laughing at their antics, not having laughed this much since they left.

“No, he’s yours Y/n. No givebacks, his receipt clearly states non-returnable.”

The phone once again is dropped, and then you hear a door slammed. You were happy that they had each other, and knowing that they were together lessened your anxiety. They might fight like siblings, but they’d developed an unbreakable bond over the years.

It’s Jake's voice that comes across the phone once again, “I’ve gotta go, baby.”

The both of you are quiet for a moment longer, the lightheartedness of Bradley showing up suddenly gone.

“I don’t know when I’ll get to call you again sweetheart.”

Your heart slightly cracks, and the reality of your current situation sets in. Jake was in the middle of the ocean and not just for drills, but for an actual mission that could end horribly.

“I know.” You hate the way your voice cracks, hate that you are inevitably making Jake feel worse.

“Given Mathew a kiss for me Sweets.”

You hum quietly, too afraid to speak knowing that your voice would break. You’re both waiting, making the call last as long as possible, but Jake eventually breaks the peaceful silence.

“I love you, Sweets.”

“I love you too, Jacob.” The tears from your waterline fall, and you don’t bother to stop the sniffle that leaves you.

“You’ve gotta hang up baby, or we’ll never get off.”

Your heads nodding, even though Jake can’t see it, hating that he always made you hang up. It’d become a thing when you’d first became friends and now it was natural.

“You come home to us Jacob Grant Seresin.”

Your finger hits the end button before Jake has the chance to reply. Slowly bringing the phone down to sit in your lap, you can’t stop the tears as they stream down your face. It was never easy being away from Jake, but right now, at this moment you couldn’t remember a time when your heart hurt worse.

Sobs rack through your body, your hands faintly shaking as you lay down on the couch. Clutching the decorative pillow to your chest with one hand, your other rubs comforting circles onto your swollen belly.

…

You hadn’t realized you’d fell asleep until you hear the front door opening. Your eyes aching, the tears you’d shed emotionally draining you, and you wanted nothing more than to go to sleep for the night. Though the padding sound of small feet, has you rubbing your eyes trying to hide how much you’d been crying.

“Mommy!”

Mathew rushes towards you, a smile on his face as he goes straight to your belly. Lacey’s figure follows behind him, and you give her a warm smile.

“How was school?” You ask the both of them, though Maty is too busy talking quietly to your stomach. Rubbing in the place where his sister had just kicked, and places a soft kiss on the spot, before continuing to tell her about his day.

“It was good, happy that it’s the weekend though. Plus, Bobby called me at lunch, so thank was nice.” The smile that graces her face as she mentions Robert, has you smiling at the girl. The sight of her quietly spinning the wedding band on her finger, makes you feel not so lonely.

“Jake called today too.”

The mention of his name has Mathew’s attention instantly, no longer interested in telling Little Miss about his day.

“Daddy called?”

His voice is so hopeful, and you feel horrible that he wasn’t home, causing him to miss the chance to talk to Jake. They had only been able to talk once while Jake had been gone, and you could tell that it upset the both of them. Their schedule never seemed to match up, or the boat was just out of service. The one call had been a happy coincidence, having kept Mathew home from school after being up all night.

Which had been a problem in itself.

Mathew’s nightmares had slowed down massively since you’d gotten together with Jake, he’d filled a void that Mathew had, and now with him gone, it was like the void had reappeared.

You’d given up the idea of Mathew sleeping in his room, after the first week and brought him into bed with you. The both of you slept better having the other close, and the nightmares had slowed, though not gone away.

“Yeah, sweetheart.” A sad smile graces your face when you see how Mathew’s face drops. “Daddy said to tell you that he loves you so much though, and that he will be home soon.”

Mathew's faces drops, tucking himself into your belly and gives you a soft nod. Your hand combs through his hair, comforting him as much as possible. The tears that you feel wetting your shirt, have you pulling him up into your lap.

You see Lacey give you a sad smile, as she points to the door and tells you to call her later. Your mouth a thank you, while rocking Mathew back and forth. His tears eventually slow and turn into hiccupping sounds. He pulls away from your chest, a tear-stained face and you almost start crying again.

You give him a reassuring smile, hand brushing through his hair, and plant a kiss on his forehead.

“Daddy will be home soon, I promise buddy.”

“He’s saving people, right momma?”

“Yeah baby.”

This time it’s you that’s pulling him into your chest, doing your best not to cry in front of him. Tucking your head down to rest on top of his head, rocking the both of you to stop the tears.

The three of you had went to bed early that night, watching Toy Story in bed, and having family cuddles. You wrapped in one of Jake’s shirts and boxers, while Mathew clung to the blue plane blanket from Jake. His steady breathing calms you and lulls you into your own deep sleep.

…

One Month Later

You had officially reached 7 months and Mathew was starting his first week of summer vacation. May had flown by and you couldn’t believe that summer had finally started. Though California was warm year-round, the rising heat had been hell. You couldn’t seem to get cool, and your swollen stomach was always adorned in a sun dress.

Jake was still deployed, though Penny had mentioned that there was a possibility that they were coming home soon. Apparently, Mav had slipped up while talking to her, and she couldn’t keep it from you. She’d sworn you to secretly, meaning you couldn’t tell Lacey or Mathew, though you wouldn’t want to tell Mathew just yet. You were careful what you mentioned about the deployment to Maty, he and Jake were able to talk a few times within the last month, but he was still sensitive to the topic of Jake coming home.

You had your 7-month checkup today and Lacey was going to be picking the pair of you up, to take you. Walking from your shared bedroom, you call out from Mathew, wanting to make sure that he was at least somewhat matching.

He’d taken to picking out his clothes, stating that he was a big boy now and in charge of taking care of the house. A thought Jake had put into his head during their last conversation. Now that he was a big boy, that meant he could pick out his own clothes.

Peaking into his bedroom, you see him pulling a navy shirt over his head, happily surprised that the shirt parried well with his khaki shorts.

“You ready bubba? Auntie Lacey will be here soon.”

The turn of his little body towards you, has a look of concern painting your face as you see the pout marring Mathew's own.

“I can’t find my glasses momma, the ones like daddy’s.” His tone was clearly distressed and missing the sunglasses that matched Jake's own pair.

“Did you look on the counter sweetheart, I saw them there last night.”

A small shake of the head is all he replies before his legs are carrying him to the kitchen. Following behind him, much slower, you hear an “aha!” ring out that causes you to laugh. Coming to rest behind him, you gently kiss his head, when a knock sounds from your door. You hear the door open, and Lacey’s voice sounds out.

“Hellooooo, anybody home.”

“In the kitchen Lace.” Her figure rounds the corner of the kitchen and Mathew is hugging her instantly.

“How is my favorite nephew?”

A giggle erupts from Mathew’s chest and Lacey gives him a tight squeeze. “I’m your only nephew Auntie.”

She gives him a glance, acting as though she’s offended. “That may be so Mr. Mathew, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be my favorite as well.”

Her hands drift to his waist, picking him up and then promptly tickling him. The both of them giggling, as you watch on with a fond smile. Lacey’s presence in your life, especially in the last two months, was a true gift and one that you could never truly repay. Though you knew that when she got pregnant, you would be at her side, just like she was for you.

Reaching for your purse, you check the time and see that its 12:20 and your appointment starts at 1 on the dot.

“Come on you two, we’ve got an appointment to get to.”

Lacey ushers you in front of her, still carrying Mathew out to her car, and buckling him into the booster seat that she’d bought for him.

“We get to go see sissy today, right momma.”

Looking back at Maty, the biggest smile rests on his face. You’d told him at the being of the week, you’d had an ultrasound and that he could come into the appointment and see his sister with you.

“Yes, sweetie.” You give him a smile, before buckling up, as Lacey pulls from your driveway.

The car ride is short and filled with music, enjoying the breeze of the day. The drive to the clinic doesn’t take long and before you know it, you’re making your way in, ten minutes before your appointment.

Going to the front desk you give them your name, while Mathew holds your hand silently observing. The buzzing of Lacey’s phone has her apologizing before she heads outside to answer the call. You think nothing of her excusing herself, thinking that she’s only left in consideration of the other patients.

Your name is called and though Lacey isn’t back inside yet, you and Mathew head back with the nurse. She takes your vitals and asks you to lay on the table, handing you a blanket to rest over your lap. You mention that Lacey had to step outside, and the nurse tells you that she will bring her back when she comes back into the office. She gives you and Mathew a smile before she leaves the room.

Doctor Jones is punctual as always and greets the both of you happily, asking you to raise your dress so that she can start. The ultrasound goes well, Doctor Jones answered each question that Mathew had and stated Little Miss is doing wonderful.

“She’s measuring just ahead of schedule, looking to be about 30 weeks, so 2 weeks ahead. We will keep an eye on it, but as of today, I think we can expect her around mid-August.” Her eyes leave yours to look back at Mathew, “Just before school starts buddy!”

His eyes light up in excitement, “Time for daddy to be home too!”

Doctor Jones looks back to you, both of your smiles faltering slightly.

“Yes, baby. Daddy’s got lots of time to get home.”

The doctor goes over a few things to watch out for, before sending you on your way. The sonogram image of Little Miss clutched in Mathew's hands excited to show Lacey. The nurse leads you back out into the main office, and Lacey is sitting waiting for the both of you. Her smile is massive and more than excited to see the image Mathew holds up in front of her face.

Your hand rests on your belly, and a few sharp kicks have you sucking in a breath, ready to get in the car to sit down for a bit.

“Are we ready to head out?” Lacey is rising to meet you, holding Maty’s hand to walk across the parking lot and the other resting on the small of your back. You give her a gracious smile, muttering a small yes.

The drive home is quick, your body is already tired from the day, and the small nap you had taken while driving is suddenly interrupted.

“Daddy!”

Your eyes shoot open, and there in your front yard are Jake and Robert waiting. Mathew is flying out of the car as soon as Lacey is parked, and you can’t stop the tears from falling as you look over at Lacey speechless.

“Did you know?”

“You think I would have left that appointment, if the phone call hadn’t been important.” The teasing smile she gives you, has you laughing through the tears. Giving her a hand a squeeze, a silent thank you, before opening the car door. The door stops before you can get it fully open, your eyes meeting a pair of black boots.

Following the uniform up, your eyes finally settle on Jake.

Your Jake, with Mathew resting on his hip. The onset of tears is never ending, as sobs uncontrollably fall from your lips.

Jake falls to his knees, setting Mathew on the ground and telling him to go see Uncle Bob, his hands reach out brushing the tears from your cheeks.

“Hi Sweets.”

Your figure moves for him, arms wrapping around his neck as you sob into his chest. He mutters sweet nothings into your hair, brushing his hand up and down your spine. The other one falls to rest on your belly.

“Your home? You’re really here?” Your voice sounds so small and Jake's heart sightly aches at your question.

“I’m home baby. Not leaving you again Sweets.”

You miss the promise in his voice, only hearing his confirmation that he was here, with you and your babies finally. Your tear-stained face pulls back from Jake's chest and your hands are pulling his face down to yours instantly.

Lips meeting, slotting perfectly together after 8 long weeks apart. The tears coating your cheeks are no longer yours alone, pulling back you see tears lining Jake’s eyes. The smile he gives you, has you tugging him back down to your lips. His lips separate from your own lips; to your cheeks and jawline, peppering your face with kisses. Then moves down to your swollen bump and places a gentle kiss upon it as well.

You look up and see Lacey’s tear-stained face, Robert cradling her in his arms. The both of them enjoying the moment, as a small body comes tumbling back into Jake. His face moves from your bump, and he grabs Mathew tickling him, laughter falling from all three of your lips.

“Daddy, we saw sissy today!”

The photo Mathew still hadn’t let go is shoved at Jake, a large smile breaking onto his face as he grasps the sonogram. His hand moves to brush through Maty’s hair, bringing the little boy back into his chest, as he stares at the picture. His eyes move from the image, to your bump, and back to the image.

Jake brushes a kiss against Mathew’s head, then goes to stand up. His hand reaching out for you.

“Coming on darlin’, let’s get you three inside.”

His arms wrap around your waist and for a moment you fear that this is all a dream, that soon you’ll wake up in Lacey’s car, utterly alone.

You feel the hand on your waist give you a squeeze, your eyes meeting Jake's. Your foreheads rest against each other before a quick kiss is exchanged and you’re heading into the house.

Robert and Lacey stayed for dinner that night, the five of you deciding to order in pizza instead of trying to cook. You and Lacey worked in tandem cleaning up the kitchen, as the guys took Mathew out back to play.

He’d been so patient during dinner, eating a slice of pizza, then begged Jake and Robert to play. The guys had informed you that Mav and Penny were having a BBQ tomorrow night, celebrating a successful mission and that everyone was required to come.

You called Penny just after dinner, asking what she needed you to bring tomorrow, though she adamantly said you weren’t supposed to bring anything. After going back and forth, your sister eventually caved and told you to let Mathew pick out a dessert from the store. You complied and let Jake know that the three of you would need to stop by the store tomorrow, before going over.

Jake had walked Bob and Lacey to the door, telling them thanks for coming over, as well as thanking Lacey profusely for helping you while he was gone. The woman just patted him on the back, with a shrug of her shoulders, and stated that’s what family does. Giving her a nod, and then a wave to them both, he headed back in to find you leaning over the kitchen counter.

Sneaking up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist to settle just under your bump. With a lift of his hands, a moan left your lips, and you were settling back into his body. Your head leaned back, resting on his shoulders as the tension in your lower back dissipated.

“So good.”

A hum leaves his lips in acknowledgment of you before his lips meet the side of your neck. He traces a line of hot open mouth kisses along your neck, landing on the spot between your collarbone and neck. Sucking softly, on a mission to mark you after months away.

The haze in your mind is overwhelming as you push back against Jake, the feeling of his hardened length pressing into your lower back. You’d missed him so much and now with his hands on you, you felt like you could combust.

“Jake, what about Mathew?” You didn’t want him to stop, but you’d rather get Maty to bed before he saw just how his sissy was made.

Jake places one final kiss on your neck, before gently lowering your bump again, the weight of it settling in your back.

“I’ll go put him to bed, missed our nighttime routine, and you go get ready for bed.” You give him a questioning glance, one eyebrow-raising.

“Bed?” Your tone is slightly whiny and causes Jake to laugh. Turning your body to face him, he gives you a final kiss that has your toes curling.

“Bed darlin’,” His hand creeping up the inside of your thigh, underneath the sun dress, fingers grazing your clothed cunt. “You’ve got a long night ahead of you Sweets.” His fingers tease you, slip under your panties to run along your slit. Your legs tremble, hand clinging to his wrist, afraid that he’s going to pull away.

Jake smirks at you, so wound-up for him and he’d just barely touched you. The swirl of his finger on your clit has your head dropping back. He loved that you were always so needy for him, but you’d become exceptionally horny while pregnant. The pressure of his fingers leaves your clit, and a whine falls from your chest. Though the sound abruptly turns into a moan, when he sinks the digits into your heat.

“Jakey, —”

“I know baby. Such a good girl, fucking yourself on my fingers.”

His tone is condescending as he watches you push down into his hand. Though before you get anywhere, his fingers are gone and your eyes snap open. Watching as Jake licks your slick from the two fingers, pulling you in for a kiss that has you moaning. The tangy taste coating your tongue and making your arousal even more evident between your thighs.

The tap on your ass, has you pulling away. Your eyes blown out and filled with pure need, as you look at Jake.

“You’re not gonna be sleeping tonight, Sweets. Daddy has lots of time to make up for.”

#better man universe #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #hangman #gingy writes #top gun #top gun: maverick #top gun maverick #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin smut #jake hangman seresin x you #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin fic #jake seresin x y/n #hangman imagine #jake seresin top gun #jake seresin angst

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enden-k · 3 months

Note

Hi!! You're free to ignore this if it doesn't interest you ofc but I wanted to talk a bit about the "Aventurine racism" thing. It's mostly people not reading things right and misinterpreting things (as always.)

Aventurine is said to be Sigonian, a race known for being untrustworthy. Now, "Sigonian" is not a reference to any real place or community, in any language. It's entirely made up and exists only within the honkai universe. The reason people started speculating that he is Romani is because he calls himself "Avgin", which the game translates as "honey", and "Avgin" is indeed the romani word for "honey". This, of course, doesn't prove he's Romani or based on any Romani culture at all, but people took it and ran with it.

Ratio called him "Sigonian thrall" and, since Romani people have suffered a lot with slavery, people started freaking out. The thing is, Aventurine is a slave, but it has nothing to do with any Romani inspiration or traits he might have. Aventurine is a slave because he works for the IPC, and a good majority of IPC workers are enslaved to the IPC. He's not even the first character to be shown to have a branding mark. Topaz, who I didn't see anyone complaining about, is also enslaved to the IPC and has the same marking on her neck.

It should also be noted that although both Sparkle and Ratio were racist towards Aventurine, the "race" being discriminated against is entirely fictional and not meant to represent any real ethnicity or culture. We should keep in mind that the story is set in a magical universe, and we have nearly no information on Sigonians or Sigonia-IV.

Personally - and this is just my own theory/interpretation - I don't think Ratio was being racist at all. Judging by how the IPC operates, Sigonia-IV has most likely been destroyed or suffered a great disaster, so his claim of Aventurine being a "Sigonian thrall" could've been just a mention to how he has nowhere to run from the IPC, since his home world is gone. Also, Sparkle is just mean, and not really a trustworthy source of information - her comment on Sigonians being notoriously untrustworthy could be her own personal opinion rather than fact (of course, we don't have enough information on this to claim that it's just her opinion, nor that it isn't.).

Sorry for the long ask! I also have more to say about the possibility of Aventurine being romani if it interests you, based on him being a Su expy.

thanks for explaining this further, i dont really have anything add to it other that i share your interpretation there but i think its interesting for the others to see as well (this entire topic is tiring me out but mostly bc of some ppl taking it to extremes or making stuff up to prove their points. thanks for taking the time to write and explain all this!!)

#i said to my friend too that i simply dont think ratio meant it in such a harmful way as sparkle did #i cant explain it well in english but i feel it doesnt make sense regarding his character #and how he wants to cure ppl from “stupidity” as a doctor helping #and then be condescending bc of someones home world or harmful stereotypes #hed rather yell at you for saying smth outrageously stupid or smth idk....#maybe its just my interpretation #meanwhile sparkle clearly meant to offend/rile aventurine up #reply

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joshusten · 4 months

Text

love the sinner (albus york/faith koria, bastard warrior || good boy audios)

Albus York takes a bath and Faithful washes his hair. (angst, slight argument, hurt/comfort)

2.2k+ words [ao3 link] [masterlist] [CW/notes: religious imagery ofc (this fic was basically an excuse to write that), typical albus york language, lots of self-loathing and some suicidal thoughts. albus is just having a bad time but hes also so whipped for faithful. speaking of her, i didnt make faith's physical descriptions vague or made it so that she's a "listener" but rather a character of her own! and i based it off of gba's description of her + my own interpretation hehe.]

once again THANK YOU SO SO MUCH to @slushiepizza for all the AMAZING suggestions and support like omfg i SWEAR i keep on saying this but this fic rlly wouldnt be finished without them!! i appreciate it sm!! and im shaking and kissing my irls that ive also bothered with this fic that will probably not see this THANK U SM!! edit: I FORGOT THE FUCKING READ MORE LMFAO

—

Albus York steadily sank into the half-filled tub of one of the ship’s quarters—stripped of his clothes, and left bare to no witness.

Gentle waves of the bathwater rippled against hardened, battle-torn skin. He dementedly mused that if he could go down further, he might finally drown.

He chuckled at the thought, shifted his position, and got to work. It's been a while since he last had an actual bath—way before he even agreed to this suicide mission of an adventure—with warm soapy water and scented products.

The constant near-death experiences and whatnot had interrupted the trio to get any time for themselves, much less to do any sort of basic hygiene. Since the route Devlin had charted for the ship to follow allowed for ample downtime, the Forgemaster had practically shoved his younger half-brother into the common bathroom and forced him to take a much-needed bath (Of course, not without a snobby comment about how his stench matched his personality perfectly well.)

Albus’ inexperience was made clearer with the stiff, awkward motion of his large, calloused hands as he attempted to wash himself. The unpracticed movement made the unfamiliarity of it all fully realized. How long has it been since he felt this safe? Does he even remember how to take care of himself?

Does someone like him even deserve this luxury?

The warrior submerged himself lower, down until his eyes were right above water level. He was thinking again. It was all that he had been doing for the past hour. If the gods wouldn't allow him to drown, then he hoped that the water would at least cleanse the grime and sin embedded into his flesh.

But he knew that filth clung to his skin like how a believer clings to the idea of repentance. No matter how hard—how desperately—he scrubbed (until pale skin turned into blood red, until rough turned rougher), it was all pointless. He had learned long ago that a bastard's prayers were never left answered.

The mark on his chest was a bleak reminder of that reality. Damnation was basically his birthright. Albus York was dead the moment he came out of his mother’s womb—dead to his family, dead to society.

Cursed to hell for being sin itself.

Life had a funny way to remind him—that goodness is something he can be in the presence of but never be a part of it.

"Albus?"

Speak of the devil, his ever-so-naive angel had arrived.

“Albus? Hello?”

Tender, serene, heavenly.

The voice was melodic—like the somber hymns he used to hear in his youth when his mother would take him into the temple and meet with her fellow brothers and sisters. At that time, he always felt drawn to the choir’s performance, despite not being old enough to understand the words (not that he was any more literate in the present). Back then, he was just a kid, blissfully unaware of the blasphemy he had committed for existing.

He had grown since then—in every aspect of the word.

"Albus! Are you still in there?"

A deep grunt, muffled slosh of water, and the pitter-patter of droplets on the tiled surface were all that Faith Koria had heard from the other side of the metal door before a familiar, gruff voice answered back.

"Calm ya tits, woman. I knew you were eager to see my dick but I never knew you were this eager!"

The outside replied with an annoyed groan, a sound Albus was all too familiar with, especially when it came from her. That being said, he couldn't fight the smile forming on his lips as he hastily dried himself up with a nearby towel.

"You've been using the bathroom for more than an hour, just what are you doing in there? Some people want to get cleaned up too, you know!”

The metal door swiftly slid open with a sudden 'woosh!', hot steam dissipating before the runaway nun to reveal Albus’ tall stature, half-naked and slightly dripping wet. Faith frantically averted her eyes on instinct, ears immediately burning with embarrassment. It wasn’t like it was her first time seeing him undressed—for gods’ sake, she treated his wounds like this when they first met! But to have him fresh out of a bath with his toned body exposed and his dampened long hair was—Wait! His hair!

"Alright, alright! I’m out, ya happy? I’m decent too so you don’t have to be a prude about it,” The bastard huffed, a little irritated with how his peaceful bath (or at least, as peaceful as it could be) was abruptly cut short.

“Albus, your hair!”

The man scrunched up his face in confusion. He gathered one of his dark locks and examined it with an intense focus. “Huh? Looks fine to me. What, you're not expecting me to be all prim and proper now, are you?”

“No, no, no! It's all matted and uneven!” The woman replied with a horrified concern in her voice that was rare for the warrior to hear directed at him.“It’s probably from all those monster attacks. Some of them must’ve managed to get to your hair! How long has it been like this? Does it hurt? Do you even have shampoo?”

“Uh…what’s that?”

“Ugh, never mind. Just—” Before Albus could process what was happening, Faith grabbed his arm with a surprisingly strong grip for a nun. She dragged him down near the bathtub he just got out of. He can even hear the water still slowly swirling down the drain.

“Faithful, what are you—”

“Stay right here. You got that, York? I’m just going to get something and I don't want you to move a muscle.”

A deep chuckle resonated within the man’s scarred chest—he always enjoyed it when she got this bossy. He gave her a mock salute and answered with a hearty “Yes, ma’am!”

The sister paladin made a face, letting out a flustered huff before hurrying to wherever she needed to be. So cute.

Albus had put on his clothes at this point while he waited (lest he risked Faithful suffering from a heart attack). A few minutes had passed by when she returned with a rather large pouch that Albus recognized was packed with the rest of her belongings. He deduced it must've been from her childhood with how worn down the embroidery was. Once vibrant floral patterns dulled from years of usage.

“Lean back by the bathtub,” Faith instructed. “I’m going to start detangling your hair. I might cut off some of the more unsalvageable parts too. If anything hurts or if I snagged on it too hard just let me know, okay?”

“Okay,” The man repeated simply, not really knowing how to react to all of the amount of consideration he was receiving. Abrasiveness was what he was more used to responding to, not the care that she unabashedly gave him.

She beamed brightly at his compliance (and no, his heart did not just skip a beat), soft hands found their way to his head and started brushing away the more manageable tangles before using a wide-tooth comb for the bigger ones. Despite the numerous warnings, her fingers were nowhere near to being rough. She was as gentle as a lamb—her slow brushstrokes eventually formed a rhythm that filled in the silence of the room. Albus decided to break the comfortable atmosphere.

“How are you so good with this shit?” He mumbled, voice heavy with drowsiness. Fuck, he felt like he could sleep until his next life. “Never knew sisters of Cindergorn get to be part-time hairdressers too.”

Even with his sluggish state, Albus could almost sense the nun’s eyes rolling above him, brushing out his hair with a slightly more forceful than usual tug.

“I'm the one usually taking care of the children at the temple. I’m used to seeing this kind of stuff whenever they play too hard. Obviously not on this level but you get the gist.” Faith snipped off the last of a particularly challenging knot.

“I've also been doing my own hair ever since I was a kid, so really, it's like second nature to me at this point,” she followed up, running her fingers through his hair with a satisfied nod.

Now that Albus thought about it, he had seen Faithful braiding herself earlier on their journey when they had just…tastefully borrowed the flagship meant for his father. He remembered swift, practiced hands twisting sections after sections of dark, coiled hair and had mentioned in passing how it was a hairstyle she often did to withstand the Eastern Faithlands' harsher seasons (Fortunately, it also turned out to be great for going-on-a-quest-to-kill-your-priest-brother-and-save-a-child seasons too.)

Faith’s hands suddenly paused. Before the man could ask if something was wrong, she signaled him to stay still while she rummaged through the pouch to get a small bottle. She squeezed a moderate amount of product into her palm and spread it evenly. As she was about to apply the substance to his head, Albus jerked away, quickly stopping her hand with his own as a furrow formed on his thick brows.

“Faithful,” He chuckled. “Please, I’m a warrior. You don’t need to waste your fancy shit on me. My hair’s going to get fucked up again eventually so what’s the point?”

Faith struggled to wriggle herself out of his grasp. “Wha–Albus, it’s fine!”

“No, Faithful, I’m serious. It’s just hair. Hell, it’s my hair. Relax.” The man sat up straighter at this point, the water from his long, damp hair trickling down along the scarred tissue of his back but it was the intensity in those familiar brown eyes that made him feel a chill.

“And I told you it’s fine just let me—”

“Why are you making it a big fuckin’ deal? What do you want from me?”

“What?” Faith’s voice cracked, appalled and confused. “Albus, what are you even talking about? I’m not asking for anything—”

“I’m just a bastard you hired to kill your brother! I was paid to do the dirty work for you, not to be your fucking toy—”

“Albus, wha—Y–You’re not a toy! Why do you—”

“If I’m not then why are you being like this to me? There’s a catch—there’s always a fucking catch. So what the fuck do you want from me?”

The nun managed to finally yank her hand away from his harsh grip and angrily slammed at the smooth surface of the tub.

“I just want you to stop being stubborn for once and let me do this for you!”

The silence that followed between them felt suffocating.

Faith’s breath hitched, shocked by her outburst. She immediately straightened up her posture only to look down shamefully at the tiled floor. A shaky sigh left her lips, and Albus was doing everything in his power to stop himself from reaching out to her, seeking salvation he knew she shouldn’t give him because he was not sorry that he was like this. He wasn’t afraid to show his filth to the world because it was all he knew to do—all he was taught to do. There’s no excuse, no justification, no escape. She’s everything good and he’s just scum or worse yet—he’s a bastard.

Because she’s an angel and he’s far worse than the devil.

“This isn't anything all that fancy…just something to keep it healthy and less stressful on your scalp. I just want you to feel okay. So please…” She trailed off. “Let me.”

“It’s…It’s just hair, Faithful. I’ll be okay, I’m a big boy,” Albus joked, but his words were sincere. He almost found the whole thing amusing—having the ever-so-snappy sister paladin fuss over him—if he didn’t get a feel for how much…his comfort seemed to mean a lot to her.

Faith pursed her lips, her gaze still fixed downward. “I just think…you deserve at least one good hair day.”

It's that word again. Deserve. Does she really think that? That he's worthy of all of this?

The man cleared his throat with a curt nod. Hesitantly, the nun's fingers slowly found their way back to the crown of his head, resuming whatever she was supposed to do. Steady, rhythmic brushstrokes filled the quiet once again.

After what felt like hours of stillness, the bastard dared himself to shift his head and face her timidly—as if he was afraid he could melt under her piercing gaze.

"Thank you, for…for this," Albus grunted. He hadn't only meant for his hair.

Faith graced him with a dimpled smile—the one that made her eyes squint and showed the tiniest bit of the gap between her front teeth. She proceeded to tuck away a stray lock behind his ear, trailing down to hover over his cheek. Albus can practically feel the nervous tremble on her fingers as if she were hesitating on something. It all came to nothing in the end, closing her hands in a fist before withdrawing to her pouch to start cleaning up.

“Anytime, Albus. Besides, with how you always manage to find yourself in trouble,” the sister murmured, her voice playful (it never failed to leave Albus’ mind racing). Her eyes glinted as they locked into his almost like clockwork. “How can I not?”

Albus York sat by the empty bathtub of the ship’s quarters—fully clothed yet he had felt the most bare that he had ever been in front of someone.

Faith smiled at him again and he swore he could make out the faintest halo crowning her head under the fluorescent bathroom light. ---- a/n: this is probably my most favorite fic that i wrote and i hope you enjoyed! lemme tell u this fic took way to long and got me so stressed for no reason idk ! i was worrying abt how this would happen in the timeline and all the lil details and then !! its a fic!! and im suppose to be having fun!! i am being self-indulgent!! (although i hope was able to characterize them well) again, feedback and comments r highly appreciated!! :DD have a good day/night and thank you for reading!!

#good boy audios #gba albus #albus york #gba bastard warrior #gba faithful #gba fanfic #THIS TOOK WAY TOO LOOOOOONG BUT ITS FINISHED see you guys next year /j

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royjamierot · 7 months

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Roy and Jamie sharing a cold peach on their front steps on a hot summer day. (On the intimacy of sharing fruit)

this has been in my inbox foreverrr thank you for sending it because ive been thinking about it literally constantly. i wrote this and im so tired so im sorry if it's terrible hope you enjoy though!

Roy doesn't know how he ended up here, staring at Jamie, who's laughing with him on his front stoop. They had finished with practice, and grabbed some fruit from Roy's kitchen before walking outside to enjoy the weather as it cooled in the evening. They were talking about Jamie's stint on Lust Conquers All, and now Jamie is laughing at a comment Roy made about one of his costars.

"You know, people still come up to me to tell me they think me and Amy shoulda gotten married," Jamie and Roy both laugh at the absurdity. "I don't think I even have her number. I don't know her last name."

"The yoga mums always said that. They're always going on and on about how you and Amy just clicked. I never understood any of that shit, they told me it was- what is that dumb fucking-"

"Body science?" Jamie finishes for him smugly.

"Body science." Roy growls. "I don't understand what the fuck that means."

"Well, I'm fucking fit right?" Roy sees Jamie extend his arms in a questioning movement, and for a moment Roy doesn't realize Jamie is looking for a response. Roy glares at him. He doesn't answer seriously, too afraid of revealing something he shouldn't.

"You know what I think of your looks." Roy says, and Jamie laughs. It's a fucking lovely sight. Jamie's laugh is loud and unabashed, just like the man it belongs to. Roy feels his own lips lilt without his permission. Roy looks down at the soft peach in his hands, and murmurs something about Jamie's ugly hair. He doesn't mean it. He knows he doesn't.

"Everyone thinks I'm fit, you're just contrarian." Jamie nudges him, his eyebrows raised, and Roy looks back up at him. The sun catches his eyes and Roy notices flecks of yellow he's never seen before. He freezes slightly, something in Roy's body taken off guard. The skin of the peach is molded under the pressure of his hand tensing.

"Big word for a prat like you." Roy snipes back, hand relaxing, the marks from his grip left behind in the ripe fruit.

"Fuck off." Jamie says it offhandedly, without hesitation, and he fucking smiles too. Roy wonders when they got to the point that they both know he doesn't mean it.

"Anyways, body science. No matter what your dark-ages gecko brain tells you, I'm fit as fuck, and so was Amy. That's body science. Two fit people existing in the same room." Jamie illustrates his point with a nod at the end of his sentence, and a half serious look, like he's really educating Roy on something.

"That cannot be it." Roy almost laughs at the absurdity.

"Nah, it is mate. Isaac explained it to me." Jamie assures.

"I've heard Isaac talk about it and he did not fucking say that."

"Okay maybe that's my explanation of it, but that's what body science is on a show like Lust Conquers All. The whole show is based on body science."

"Do you mean sexual tension?"

"No, that's different, I have that with everyone." Jamie grins at him, and Roy rolls his eyes.

"You're a right twat." Roy says.

"You still have me around." Jamie tells him, like they're not sitting around hanging around even though their practice has been done for over an hour.

"I'm not sure why." He says it, but he does know why.

"Who would you take your anger out on every morning?"

"Some other dickhead who deserved it."

"Aw, don't say that, I thought we had something special." Jamie makes eyes at him that would look somehow more in place on a puppy, but also somehow fit Jamie.

Roy just looks at him, and shakes his head. Jamie takes a bite of his own peach, undented and orange and ripe.

He takes a big bite out of the side of the peach, and Roy watches him chew for a moment before he notices everything about Jamie and has to look away.

"Fuck, that's good." Jamie basically fucking moans and Roy isn't a strong enough man to not look back.

The juice of the peach drips down Jamie's well sculpted jaw as he takes another bite. It almost drips off entirely but instead falls on his jawline. Roy's fingers crave to reach out and wipe it off. They don't. Instead, he runs his fingers over the indents in his own fruit.

Jamie takes another bite, and notices Roy just watching him.

"This peach is fucking lush, you should have yours." Jamie advises through a mouthful. It does nothing to help the situation on his chin and his lips, suddenly shiny and sticky with the juice of the fruit. Roy can't find it within himself to look away, or to stop holding his own peach too tightly, damaging the skin ever so slightly.

It takes him aback, how much he notices the juice on his face.

Jamie hums after his bite is finished. Roy looks away when Jamie almost catches him staring. He looks down at the peach in his hand and the marks he's made in it. Holding it up to his lips, he takes a bit. His face scrunches. It's too soft, and slightly sour.

"Mine's no good. Overripe." He turns the peach over in his hands, the deep marks from little pressure making sense. The fruit is almost mush in his hands. He sets it on the concrete knowing he can't eat anymore.

"Shit. Try mine." Jamie holds his peach out, and Roy can't look at it. Why would he? Jamie is right here in front of him.

"I'm not eating your half eaten scraps."

"No, you don't get it, it's the best peach I've had in my life, you gotta try it." Jamie insists, shiny juice still coating his lips and chin. Roy wants to lick it off.

His brain goes fuzzy, the way it does when his body overrides his ever working mind, and does something stupid. There's one thought in his head, and it's Jamie.

"Okay." Roy murmurs. His hands move of their own accord, and one finds itself cupping Jamie's chin, pulling him closer to Roy. Jamie goes with his hand.

"Tell me to fuck off again. Tell me you don't want this." Roy tells Jamie, their breath mingling from their few inches of space, their noses almost bumping.

"I want this." Jamie says, and Roy is gone. He kisses Jamie like he's trying to consume him whole, trying to taste him. He bites Jamie's bottom lip like it's the fruit itself. Jamie smiles against him. It's so good he doesn't think the fruit could possibly be better. His thumb rubs Jamie's chin, and he pulls away. Jamie instinctively chases him, and Roy smiles.

Roy's thumb collects the dripping juice from Jamie's chin, and he tastes it.

"Mm. Good."

Jamie stares at him, shaky grin occupying his face, and he holds up the peach.

"Try it." Roy takes a bite, and it's good but he was right. It's not comparable to the taste of Jamie.

"Good. Not you though." He murmers though half lidded eyes, diving in for another kiss.

#royjamie #mine #asks #fics

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sirenjose · 8 months

Text

Lily Backstory Analysis

Lily’s family is an old and wealthy one. Her father is the “unappreciated and unloved” 2nd son but has enough wealth to give Lily a carefree childhood. Her parents and older brother are passionate about sports, with her father’s dream being to organize a “world-famous horse racing event”, which is likely a major part of the reason why her brother becomes a highly anticipated jockey as soon as he reaches adulthood. Lily as the only daughter is pampered by her brother and parents, causing her to develop a “naïve, stubborn, and arrogant personality”.

Eventually, Lily’s father is able to establish the “Barriere Family Sports Show” by the time Lily turns 16.

Unfortunately, the day (which may also be Lily’s birthday) the “lavishly funded new horse racing series” begins, “a horse went out of control, causing a stampede”. As a result, Simon ends up falling off his own horse and is seriously injured: “he was left paralyzed on one side, regressed to the mental capacity of a young child, and lost the ability to speak”. He’s sent to a care facility by his parents afterwards.

It isn’t specified whose horse it is, so there’s a good chance it wasn’t Simon’s horse, but his horse was affected by what was going on.

Considering the Kreiburg Racecourse also reference a horse going out of control and causing a (fatal) stampede, and how Lily’s father was never said to own the track, only that he hosted it, there’s a good chance the Kreiburg Racecourse is where the “Barriere Family Sports Show” took place. According to the headline for the Kreiburg Racecourse incident, as well as from Ashes of Memory part 1, it’s likely that the horse that went out of control and started the stampede was a white horse, and Simon’s horse was brown.

Due to the incident at the track, Lily’s father was “ousted” from the family. He couldn’t accept this, and turned to alcoholism in his anger at being kicked from the family, sorrow over his son’s accident, as well as frustration with his new financial problems. In his drunkenness, he subjects Lily and her mother to physical abuse, though he “repent[s] remorsefully when sober”, turning Lily’s “once happy family… into a living hell”.

Lily’s father is the source of several of the scars we see on her, including the fairly visible one we can see across her nose.

Lily’s only respite from this “hell” was when she went to visit Simon at the care facility, cheering him on “just as she used to at the racetrack”. We can see clearly how much she cares for Simon, as well as how traumatized she was over his accident and subsequent events based on Lily’s trait “All Thumbs” stating “The Cheerleader suffers from early psychosis caused by childhood trauma and is unable to accurately discern her surroundings” (aka, her perception of reality is messed up).

While she’s visiting Simon, she ends up befriending “a child of the same age who, after learning what Lily was going through, offered her some advice as a ‘peer’”.

Based on what little we can see from Lily’s trailer, it is highly likely the person she met was Galatea, based on similarities including the wheelchair, IV wrapped around their arm, and similar material where we can see the person’s knees/legs (as well as a similar build it seems).

There’s also how Lily after meeting with this person changes her appearance slightly so she has very similar marks under her eyes and similar lipstick smear (on the same side of her face even).

Galatea we know ended up in that wheelchair after her father threw her statue "off the terrace" and she jumped after it. Following this, as her parents noticed her talking to her statues, they put her in an asylum. There’s a good chance she might’ve been at the same facility as Simon, at least before being sent to the asylum.

We see it is after this meeting that Lily puts on Simon’s cap and, in the trailer, begins to dance around.

Regarding the “peer” advice, it is right after this that it states “shortly after, Lily’s father met his demise, breaking his neck while drunk on his way home”. Considering what we know about Galatea, as well as what we see in Lily’s trailer as she’s dancing around, I do believe it’s possible the “advice” Galatea gave involved suggesting Lily kill her father, or do something that’d lead to his death.

Especially as, in Lily’s trailer, as she’s dancing around, we see her toss 1 of her pom poms into the air, see it turn into a bottle, at which point the shadow of her father appears as if he’s falling, and the bottle shatters where his head would’ve been, before turning back into her pom pom.

The reason I find this suspicious is because of several points. First because of how the bottle breaks right where his head would be. Second is because the “bottle” that used to be her pom pom, which she was holding, and after the bottle disappears, it turns back into a pom pom in her hand. Which makes me think its possible Lily had been “holding” that “bottle” and broke it over her father’s head while he was drunk. Third, there’s also how Lily is seen smiling in a bit of a crazy manor as this is happening (happy at finally being freed from him?). Finally comes again from the trailer and how we hear, after she comments Simon can no longer hear, that she cant hear either.

This relates to how, in the trailer she commented about her father, who she refers to as a “monster, “growling at me”, as well as how the official announcement for Lily’s trailer (https://twitter.com/IdentityVJP/status/1690181309518508032) says her home was a "castle", destroyed by Simon's accident, ending her happy life. Her father was a "monster" in that "crumbling castle", just like we hear in her trailer. It ends by saying, one day, she no longer heard the "voice" of that monster. Aka, her father is dead, and the way she phrases it feels like there’s a good opening that she is the reason her father has finally been silenced.

I mean, calling her home a castle that a monster lives in, and with how her perception of reality is messed up, she might want to kill the monster in her castle, like in a typical fairy tale.

With her father dead, her mother is asked to identify his body at the morgue, but she never returned, leaving Lily alone to fend for herself and take care of Simon.

We know Lily’s parents (and then her and Simon once they were gone) had been in debt and desperate for money by the papers in her trailer that say “Final Notice", "Final Demand", "Account Closed", and "Override".

Simon’s medical bills were a major source of their financial issues, as well as any lawsuits from the scandal at the horse track, combined with Lily’s father alcoholism. I also wonder, if Lily began taking some sort of drugs after the accident based on the bottles and pills we see lying all over the floor by the end of the trailer, if the drugs Lily was taken contributed further to their worsening monetary problems. Maybe these were drugs for Lily’s psychosis. Or maybe they were for Simon. We can’t be certain.

Lily contacts her grandfather and uncle in the hopes of receiving financial support from them to sustain her until adulthood and cover Simon’s medical bills. Her uncle, likely the 1st son, ignores Lily, but her grandfather responds, though he only gives her enough money to “barely suffice for 2 years, along with a peculiar promissory note” (aka, an IOU). The creditor on the note had been changed from the grandfather to Lily herself, with the debtor stated to reside in Oletus Manor.

This seems confirmed to be a set up to force Lily to go to the manor and attend the games there based on how the backstory summary from Lily’s gameplay trailer states “Until [she] heard Grandfather’s cold voice, ‘Go to that manor, get back the thing which belongs to me, and I’ll help you redeem the thing which belongs to you’”.

Based on what we’ve managed to learn about the Barriere family, it seems very likely that Lily’s grandfather is the “Count Barriere” from the Golden Cave and Moonlit River Park backstories.

Count Barriere is the owner of the mountain where Golden Cave, as well as Oletus Manor, are located. He likely also owns the land Lakeside Village is on. And as I’ve said, we know he build Moon River Park. By being the owner of the land Oletus Manor is on, that means the “debtor” that owes Count Barriere, and then Lily, money is Orpheus, who we know bought the manor at some point after Manus sells it.

Lily’s essence backstory also contributes to this idea, as it mentions the “phosphorescent ore” in the mine (Golden Cave) brought “wealth to their ancestors”. As we know their family is “ancient” (aka old and has a lot of wealth), it would make sense based on the essence backstory that much of it may have been due to Golden Cave.

“Barriere” is also referenced in Freddy’s 4th letter as part of the “Keogh & Barriere” law office. This is the 1 time it doesn’t say “Count” Barriere. As the 1st son, the uncle should own something and be considerably wealthier than Lily’s father by the way it’s phrased in Lily’s backstory, so I think there’s a chance the uncle runs this law office alongside Keigan. And as a lawyer, especially one from a wealthy, potentially well-known family, that would likely help him to better achieve financial success. If this is true, in Keigan's backstory, it mentions she "followed her brother into the city and helped out with administrative matters in his law office". Freddy in his letter just says "Keogh & Barriere". That could mean initially that law office was initially Keigan's brother and Lily's uncle, but Keigan replaced her brother to work with Lily's uncle after she took over for her brother.

Going back to Lily, as she’s the now the person Orpheus owes money to, and with her connection to what is likely Kreiburg Racecourse, there’s a good chance we may see her appear in the final game alongside Frederick and the others.

Speaking of which, Lily is described as having an “arrogant” personality. That means she could potentially be the female that Norton was ordered (by someone) to kill, as he described the individual as “arrogant” in his 2nd letter.

Going back to the backstory summary from Lily’s gameplay trailer, the Grandfather is asking Lily to “get back the thing which belongs to me, and I’ll help you redeem the thing which belongs to you”.

We know Lily cares about Simon and that she asked her Grandfather (and uncle) for money to sustain her and fund Simon’s medical bills. So, my thought is the thing he’ll help her “redeem” may be the promissory note aka Lending Certificate for Orpheus’ debt (as it now “belongs” to her after the Grandfather transferred it to her) and with the money from that she’d have enough to likely to fund everything she needs.

That just leaves the question of “the thing which belongs to me” (the Grandfather).

Mostly we know Count Barriere owns land, including the land Oletus Manor is on (and thus maybe the manor itself). As he is originally who Orpheus owes, it could be he’s asking Lily to get the manor back for him, though it doesn’t feel quite as the previous line is “go to that manor”, as it makes it sound like 2 different things. It’s still possible though, especially based on the tragic history of the manor, which is stated in Oletus Manor’s original backstory, as well as from what we know happened to both Dennis and his wife, as well as Manus and Mary de Capet, not to mention the disappearances that occur while Orpheus is the owner. With how the Grandfather sets up Lily to go to the manor, it makes me think again about the theory that Count Barriere may have a hand in causing many of those tragedies to the other owners of Oletus Manor. Though we don’t know why (beyond greed, especially with Golden Cave involved in Lily’s essence, or maybe jealousy/something personal since the paper implies Count Barriere and Dennis DeRoss did know each other to some degree) he’d be doing this just yet, but it still feels like its at least somewhat possible. It would fit with what little we do know about Count Barriere, who we know has death seemingly following him everywhere (built Moonlit River Park but then later Hullabaloo tragedy, owns both Golden Cave and Oletus Manor, both which had tragedies).

Then there is the pocket watch shown during the Ashes of Memory part 1 trailer with Count Barriere’s name underneath (with likely Denis DeRoss’ name above his). Though I’m doubtful of this option too. According to the image shown, it implies 3 of those watches were made, 1 of which we know Alice owns, as we see her use it during Ashes of Memory part 1, with 2 others somewhere else. As there’s more than 1 of these watches, as well as the lack of any indication of these watches being significant beyond the ability to tell the time, I don’t see why he’d want that watch bad enough to send Lily.

My last thought relates to Golden Cave, which we know is important, especially as the setting for Lily’s essence backstory is Golden Cave. We know from Golden Cave’s rumor that “despite that not a single piece of gold was ever found, Count Barriere still got what he wanted with this land”. The mine was abandoned after its collapse based on Alice’s corkboard from Ashes of Memory part 1.

From the collapse we know, besides death, only Norton and his meteorite chunk came out of it. So, if Barriere never got any gold by the time of the collapse, the only things to come out of the mine that Barriere could “want” are Norton or his meteorite chunk.

Could be he wants Norton, but at least regarding the meteorite, there’s a chance the “phosphorescent ore” from Lily’s essence is meant to parallel it. The ore in the essence backstory is what was said to have “brought wealth to their ancestors” (aka, likely Lily’s Grandfather and the Barriere family in general), as well as “eroded” their skin and mind, making them “yearn for confinement” (aka, seems like they have a desire for it). If the ore does parallel the meteorite, this could relate to what Barriere “wanted” according to Golden Cave’s rumor and the backstory summary in Lily’s gameplay trailer.

Going back to the headline on Alice’s corkboard, it does mention “rumors of precious metal ores”. It says these are “false rumors”, but what if isn’t as false as some (such as Barriere) would want people to think? He may just want to keep people away from it so he can have it all for himself. Though I do think people would have to put themselves at risk to get into the mine at all considering we know its unstable, but I do think there’s a chance those rumors aren’t completely false.

From these ideas, the options so far are that Lily is after Alice due to her watch, Orpheus due to his debt and being the current owner of Oletus Manor, or Norton due to his ties to Golden Cave and/or his meteorite chunk. If Barriere is sending Lily after one of them, that could mean the one that ordered Norton to kill could be Orpheus. Even if Count Barriere did just want Norton’s meteorite chunks, Orpheus still might want Lily gone due to her coming after him and his debt, and he likely doesn’t want anything to get in the way of his experiments or keeping him from the manor. And Lily is specifically described as arrogant, so it seems to fit the female Norton is ordered to kill may be Lily, and that Orpheus may be the one who made that order. Though we still need a lot more information to really figure out Count Barriere.

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