#(she also has a small tag you can peruse)

[twola]

Devil's Backbone - Owanjila VII

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x FemOC/Reader POV 

Tags: Longfic, Slow Burn, Smut (18+), Violence, Canon-Typical Injuries

Limpany’s burning was a lot more than meets the eye. Deception, greed, and murder follow everyone touched by Leviticus Cornwall. A story where the Van der Linde gang gets even more inescapably involved in Cornwall’s dealings, with the survivor of the massacre at the heart of it all. Slow burn. Pre-Blackwater and beyond.

Owanjila VII: You, Amongst the Lupines

Time passes, and Arthur jumps at the chance to take you out of camp.

CW: References to child loss, violence, and Arthur being a big mean outlaw.

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Mud squelches under his boot. It is everything he is not to scowl at the sound. 

Ain’t no way that Genevieve was going to stay with him now. Not with him sent on this fool’s errand. He was supposed to stay on assignment in Saint Denis, not get his boots covered in mud and horseshit in this backwater town. Genevieve was far too cosmopolitan to be following him around anywhere but Saint Denis. 

Strawberry was just a blip on a map, no matter how the mayor of this town was trying to push it.

Angus Carmody kicks the muck from his boot against the wooden step up to the mail depot. He scowls as the stink of meat from the butcher’s tent wafts his way.  This was a goddamn fool’s errand. He knows that Milton has it out for him. How angry he is about that damned woman being in the wind. He knows also that his trekking around West Elizabeth is a punishment instead of leading the search back in Lemoyne. 

The Pinkerton steps up to the depot’s clerk, standing behind the counter full of mail and other parcels.

“Mornin’.” The man greets, shuffling between boxes and baskets of letters. His full mustache and beard certainly made him blend in with the rough and tumble nature of the town that the mayor was so desperately trying to rid of.

“Mornin’, sir. Agent Carmody with the Pinkerton Detective Agency.”

The clerk stops, setting down a pile of papers on the counter. He looks Carmody up and down, eyes lingering on his polished badge, pinned to his breast pocket.

“Hector Barlow. How can I help you, Agent?” He responds, measured and wary. Carmody is used to this. It is often, out in the West, that folk respond to him with caution and wariness rather than respect. Some sort of Western mistrust of government and authority, he always thought.

“You heard talk of a widow from that town that burned down on the Dakota?”

Hector Barlow strokes his mustache, nodding his head, “Heard about the fire, but not about anyone who survived it.”

“I’m tryin’ to find a Missus Shaw. She survived the fire and my employer is tryin’ to locate her to finalize some business items he had ongoin’ with her husband.” Angus responds, annoyed that this also seemed like a dead end. 

Barlow remains quiet for a moment, “I’ll keep an ear out. She supposed to be around here?”

Carmody pulls a stack of papers that he had tucked within his jacket, “Yes - petite woman, blonde hair if she finds herself up this way.”

“These also - a bunch of bounty posters we don’t got time to chase down.  A few thousand for these. Out of Blackwater. Some hillbilly could find ‘imself real rich if he tries hard enough.”  He shoves several crinkled pieces of paper forward on the worn finish of the counter. Hector nods, mumbling something about bringing them up to the sheriff’s office. Angus lifts his chin in response, before leaving the mail depot. The bright sunshine is an assault on his eyes as he steps outside.

Two other Pinkerton agents stand across the street, near the small town’s general store. Smoking cigarettes, the two men clad in bowler hats seem to stand out amongst the rough and tumble mountain men that peruse the muddy street. 

“Anythin’ here?” One pipes up as Carmody approaches, holding out a cigarette that Angus quickly takes. 

“Nothin’,” Carmody grunts, rooting around his pocket for his matchbook, “We’ll head north, to Wallace Station, to see if there is any word around there.”

He knows there won’t be, but alas, Carmody breathes out heavily before striking a match against his boot, he has his orders.

-

The cold mountain waters of the stream that feeds Owanjila are a shock to the system at first, but you figure that the clean, clear stream could do you no harm as you hoist your skirts to bare your calves, stepping ankle deep into the current.

A sob claws its way up from your throat, and you cover your mouth with one hand, one side of your skirts dipping under the stream.

“Ruth, what are you doing up here?” 

You sniff, wiping your eyes quickly, giving up on keeping your skirts dry as both of your hands cover your face. 

“Oh, sweet girl,” Hosea’s pace picks up as he walks closer to you, and he ignores the ache in his knees as steps down into the stream next to you where you stand, uncaring of the water starting to run over his boots.

“I- I just-”  You hiccup, dropping your hands and looking back into the rushing waters at your feet. 

“C’mon, let's get you out of the stream. Are y’still feelin’ ill?” Hosea pulls you, delicately, back to the shore, where the two of you step onto higher, drier ground.

“No- no, it’s just-” You let go of a shuddering breath as you feel his hand rub gently, slowly between your shoulder blades, “It’s…”

“Missin’ your husband?” Hosea offers.

“Y-yes…” You hiccup, closing your eyes again, unable to stop the tears from pouring forth, “And… and-”

Silence falls between you, interrupted only by the sniffles you cannot stifle and the bubbling of the creek waters as they rush down to collect in the lake. Another harrowing exhale, and you turn to look at Hosea, the older man’s silhouette blurred in your vision over your shoulder. 

“I look at Jack and… my…my little-” You sob, voice cracking,  “He came too early. I-in the winter - he… he just- he was so tiny…my boy-” 

Hosea’s hand immediately moves from your back to cup the back of your head, and he pulls you into his chest, you slightly stumble as you have to readjust your bare feet on the ground. The fur trim on his coat smells of the tobacco he smokes in his pipe. It’s something familiar - comforting - and the fight in you - what little you have left, leaves you as you sink into his embrace. You sob, the ache in your chest clawing its way out like a rabid animal. 

He holds you, rubbing your back, murmuring random words of comfort into your hair. 

-

The coffee is strong and bitter this morning. Maybe the off-handed threats he had been making to Pearson about the quality of his coffee finally sunk in. Or someone else had made it.

Arthur blows on the cup before taking another sip, trying to spare his mouth from getting burned.

His gaze floats, unknowingly searching for those soft golden curls amongst the women. He finds himself seeking out the soft-spoken widow. Missus Adler seethed in her grief. Missus Shaw, well, other than the time he certainly deserved her ire, didn’t seem to have a mean bone in her body. 

She’d been sick as of recent, catching whatever poor Jack had. Abigail was apoplectic, the lantern in the sick tent blazing at all hours of the night. It was only in the past few days he had seen her out of the sick tent for longer periods.

This morning, he was hell-bent on finally getting a new horse - the old Walker he had been riding got run down by an angry farmer and his mount when he and Javier had robbed a homestead the other day. Finally, after a few jobs, he had enough money to get a horse that he wouldn’t have to rustle - it was just taking the time to go over to Valentine to get one. 

Herr Strauss cornered him the other day, needing collection from a debtor on a ranch near Valentine. He figured he’d get it all done in one day, maybe swing by Strawberry before crossing the state line. For too long he’d been jumping from job to job - homestead robberies and coaches, even sheep rustling with John. That went swimmingly.

Maybe he’d grab Missus Shaw and take her out on the errands he has to do. He finally finds her, sitting across the way near the women’s lean-to, working on a pile of sewing. Arthur dumps out the last bit of his coffee before stowing his cup back in his satchel. He takes the first step toward the women’s tent before being stopped.

“Arthur.”

Arthur looks back toward the campfire as the occupant stokes it. Hosea looks up at him with that weathered look about him that only comes about when he is serious about something.

“She’s fragile right now.” His brow furrows, jaw set, “Don’t you go upsettin’ her.”

“I ain’t an idiot, Hosea.” Arthur bristles, scowling back at his surrogate father. He also scowled at the thought of being so damn transparent that Hosea was that quickly able to figure out where he was going.

“You sure as hell are sometimes.” Hosea points up at him, “You can be a real ass-”

A cough interrupts his retort, and Hosea turns his head to hack into his bicep. After he clears his throat, he looks back at Arthur with hard eyes, “I’m tellin’ you, Arthur. The poor girl doesn’t deserve any shit from you. She’s gotten enough recently.” 

Arthur shifts, his hand gripping the buckle of his gunbelt in agitation. He scowls again, the lines betraying his age and lifestyle set in on his face. He dismissively waves at Hosea, stepping past the man and continuing on his original journey toward the women’s area.

“Missus Shaw.”

You look up from the sewing that you are doing - one of John’s shirts that he tore the armpit open. You grabbed it from Abigail’s pile the other night as she was scolding him for his carelessness.

“Was wonderin’ if you wanted to get outta camp for a bit - y’haven’t had much of a chance lately,” Arthur asks, his large hands draped over the buckle of his gun belt.

“Oh, I mean… maybe after I finish this shirt.” You nod down toward the fabric you are holding in your hands.

“Marston’s shirt can wait. Especially because it's his.” Arthur reaches down and yanks the shirt from your hands, surprising you with his speed. He tosses the shirt back in the pile and you scowl up at him, aggravated at his impetuousness.

“I was in the middle of that!” You complain, but nonetheless take the thread and needle you were working with and store it in the tin next to your seat.

“Serves the dumbass right. Not like he ripped his shirt doin’ any work around here.” Arthur chortles, holding his hand out for you to take, “C’mon, I’m sure you’re sick of staring at the same thing every day. I have some errands to do in Strawberry and Valentine.”

-

From the banks of Owanjila, Arthur leads his horse up through the hills to Strawberry, claiming to need to stop by the General Store for something. He was scant on details but shooed you off to check the mail in the freight depot after he had hitched the horse outside the Trackers Hotel.

You check to see if there is any mail under the pseudonyms that Arthur gave you, and upon finding none, set to leave before the clerk calls out to you.

“D’ya mind bringing these down to the Sheriff’s Office, ma’am?”

You nod and feel a slight unease as the clerk’s gaze lingers on you. In the months since Frederick’s death, you have once again become wary of men - the leering and possessive glares that you receive when it is obvious you are untied to a man. Like those leering and possessive gazes you received before you got married. Those gazes your daddy warned you about, all those years ago. 

Taking the stack of papers, you nod a hushed farewell as you move out of the mail depot and back to the street, sidestepping mud puddles as you lift your skirt above your ankles with one hand to avoid completely ruining the hems.

Your curiosity gets the best of you and as you pass the staircase, you pull the papers back from your chest and look at the contents of the first page.

$5000 Reward!

For the Capture Dead or Alive of 

ARTHUR MORGAN

You bite your lip to keep from gasping. Glancing around, you crush the first poster to your chest for a moment before crumbling it into a little ball that you shove into your skirt. 

You look at the other posters as you quickly duck into an alley next to the hotel, where a large, flowering cherry blossom stands before the cliff face. Shuffling past the gardens, you take a seat on a small bench and warily leaf through the papers.

John Marston. Hosea Matthews. Micah Bell. Javier Escuella. Bill Williamson. Dutch Van der Linde. Each piece of paper that you look at shows fearsome renderings of the men of the gang that you have been living alongside for the last months.

Larceny. Horse Theft. Burglary. Train Robbery. Bank Robbery. Assault. Murder.

The pit in your stomach opens; fear clawing up through your chest into your throat. Hosea, who just this morning dried your tears and held you as you cried? John, who struggled with the pressures of being a young father? Javier, who swears he will get you to dance with him one night around the fire to Dutch’s phonograph, even after your declination, always with a smile. 

Even Dutch, who welcomed you into this motley group when you had nothing but the clothes on your back. 

And Arthur. Arthur, whose cold, angry face stared back at you from the poster, the man who has been teaching you to shoot, who took you out on his errands today - who braved the raging fire at the Adler ranch to save you-

The jingle of spurs makes you look up.

“Arthur-” You hiss as he lopes across the road, moseying as he lights a cigarette.  He gives a grin as he tosses the match to the muddy ground, breathing out a plume of smoke as he comes closer, eyeing the cherry blossoms that wave in the cool mountain breeze. “Get over here!”

You nervously look around you before reaching up handing him the crumpled-up wad of paper you had shoved in your pocket. 

He frowns, then snorts, half a grin as he takes the cigarette from his mouth, dropping it to the ground and mashing it underfoot.

“Five thousand, for little ol’ me?” He looks back to you with a hint of mischief in his eye, “God, that’s one ugly lookin’ drawin’.”

“Arthur-” You scold, completely taken aback at his nonconcern at the situation. 

He shoves the poster into his satchel and holds his hand out for the other ones, curling his fingers in request before you hand the pile to him. He takes them and thrusts them all into that seemingly bottomless satchel of his before turning his gaze back to you.

“Alright, alright. Let’s get. If these are comin’ from Blackwater we should get the whole gang outta West Elizabeth.” He reaches for your hand, almost gallantly, and pulls you up from your seat when you give it to him, “We’re gonna head toward Valentine. I gotta stop by a ranch out there for one of Strauss’s debtors. I’m gonna get a new horse and we’re gonna look for a new place to set up. Get on that side of the state line.”

He walks you out of the alley, back toward where his horse is hitched near the mail depot. He slows to allow you to try and duck the large mud puddles underfoot.

Through the main street of town, Arthur does not let go of your hand.

-

The ride to Valentine is long - long enough to be troublesome. You were able to convince Arthur to give you back the wanted poster of him, and you straighten it out as he guides the old Walker on the path out of the mountains and toward the Dakota.

You read the printed text, fearsome in its lettering, all capitalized, “Wanted for activities such as Larceny. Robbery. Burglary...”

Arthur snorts, interrupting, bemused.

“Gotta get money somehow.”

“Assault.” You reply, upping the ante.

“They usually deserve it.” He drawls in response.

“Murder.” You continue, stressing the severity of the crime.

“You’ve seen that. More than once.” Arthur nonchalantly replies, as if killing were the same as stealing a horse. 

It was true - from the O’Driscolls that he waylaid on the road the first day that you met him, the man threatening you at the campfire after the failed Blackwater job - he kills without hesitation. There is a pregnant pause as the poster crinkles under the tension of your fingers.

 “Have you ever raped a woman?”

Arthur stiffens in the saddle, then turns his entire torso to get the closest to facing you that he can. The easy conversation that you had been having immediately ended.

“No. Why the hell you askin’ that?”

“Seems like you’ve done everything else-” You defend your line of questioning, but immediately with that you hadn’t gone that far.

“Have I ever acted untoward to you?” Arthur interrupts, turning back to face the road. He bristles with agitation, rolling his shoulders as he tightly grasps the reins. The old Walker beneath you notices, and throws his head to the side, whinnying. 

“No….”  You try to push the intruding thoughts of Micah from your mind.

“Ain’t that type of degenerate.” He grumbles, “Sides, it wouldn’t speak highly of your smarts if you was out alone with a man who forces himself on women.”

You can tell he’s offended.

Unfortunately, the rest of the ride to Valentine is long, awkward, and silent.

-

By the time Arthur acquired himself a new horse, a strong and tall Kentucky Saddler mare, buttermilk-hide and blackmaned, his gruff silence makes you wish that you hadn’t come out with him at all. Wordlessly, he lifted you back onto the horse’s rump and mumbled something about a job he had to do on the way back to camp. Not far out of Valentine, Arthur guides the horse toward an old, ramshackle ranch house.

“Just stay here. Herr Strauss said this guy is tryin’ to weasel out of payin’.” 

Arthur approaches a thin, middle-aged man in the garden, “Mr. Thomas Downes…”

The man looks up, a hoe in his hand, and squints at the outlaw as he storms closer, “Yep, that’s me.”

“You owe me money.”

It is as if the floor was pulled out from underneath the man. He turns ghastly white in fear, stumbling backward from Arthur’s encroachment. The anger that radiates off the gunslinger is terrifying, even to yourself as an observer.

Downes holds the hoe in front of him as if to fight off the man twice his size, “Please, sir… I’m… I’ll…”

Arthur laughs cruelly, grabbing the hoe and throwing it across the garden. “Really? Threaten me, would you? How’s that debt looking now? You borrowed money from my business partner Herr Strauss. You owe him. You took the money. He wants it back. What’s not to understand?”

“I don’t have it all!”

You slide down from the horse as Arthur drags the man to the fence, throwing him against the post with frightening force.  You hurry toward the unfurling scene.

“Ruth-” Arthur growls as you push him away. Obviously, you could never move the man without his consent, but for some reason, he allows it.  You stand in front of this miserable man, who gazes up with fear-stricken eyes and a pale, clammy complexion.

“See, look, Mister Downes…. You could do this the easy way and give me the money now that we’re askin’ for it, or my friend over here can get the money from you the way he was gonna before.” You say over-sweetly, holding your hand out to help him up, “I think my way is better for you.”

“I… I don't have a-all of it.” Downes coughs, blood sputtering from his mouth as you recoil in surprise. God, this man was pitiful. 

“Then sell your place.” Arthur barks from behind you, having stepped closer as Downes goes into a coughing fit. 

“W-we already - hrgh - owe more than it’s worth.” The man coughs between words.

You frown, drawing your hand back from where the man wipes his mouth with his sleeve. You can feel Arthur tensing behind you, and one of his hands finds your waist, and you can tell he is about to yank you behind him. You brush away his arm before he has the chance to do so.

“Whatever you have is fine. We’ll give you more time for the rest. I’ll be sure to come - but Mister Downes-” You cross your arms, trying to look as composed as possible, “You do owe us.”

“Thomas-!” A woman rushes out of the house, followed by a teenage boy, and she falls to her knees next to the man, immediately taking a handkerchief and wiping the blood from his mouth.

“Can’t- can’t you see, my husband isn’t well, if we could just have more-”

Arthur does manage to grab you by the waist and maneuver you behind him, and you’re unable to move against his strength. He glares down at the woman and her pleading. “We ain’t nobody’s idea of charity.”

The woman frowns, desperate - “But-...”

“Give it to him.” The stricken man garbles, his breath heaving. With a set jaw, she reaches into her skirt and takes out a small wad of bills, standing up from her husband's side and shoving it into Arthur’s waiting hand. 

Arthur gives you a bemused look after he pockets the money. “Pleasure doin’ business with you.”

The gunslinger places his hand behind your back and pushes you back toward the horse, holding you upright as you stumble on the first step. 

“You’ll do alright, Missus Shaw.” His hands wrap around your waist like they have so many times before as he easily picks you up to place you on the horse’s rump, but you swear you feel his fingers pulse through the layers of fabric. You swear you feel his thumb press against the curve of the bottom of your ribcage.

Arthur swings himself up on the horse and urges it down the path leaving the ranch. With the horse’s jolting first steps, you wrap your arm around his waist to steady yourself before looking back toward the ranch.

You watch as the woman helps her struggling husband to her feet, and the teenage son stares after you with a vicious, hateful glare. You frown, before turning back around and pressing your forehead against Arthur’s back. They could have just as easily been you. These poor folks, already struggling, are now set back even farther.

The wave of guilt through your throat makes you swallow audibly.

Arthur’s large, gloved hand finds your own slung ‘round his waist, covering it with a gentle squeeze. His fingers press between your own, and for a selfish moment, all you can think about is how warm you feel. As Arthur leads the horse down the road to the east, the thoughts of the family whose miserable lives you just made worse flee from your mind.

How is it that all thought of the folk you just left more destitute than they had been left your mind as soon as Arthur touches your hand? How is it that you feel at ease pressed against a man who was just beating another one for money? How is it, that in this moment, with this murderer, you feel safer than you have felt in weeks?

Arthur hums, in a better mood than he had been all day. He holds your hand against the hard slab of muscle of his abdomen, and you lean further against his back to assuage the concern alight in your soul.

-

The ride northward along the Dakota is quiet. You surmise that Arthur doesn’t want to have further conversations about debt-collecting.  It is not until the two of you have ridden across Cumberland Falls and the pine forests of Big Valley have opened out to a large valley that he speaks again.

“C’mon, been riding for a while, let’s stop and stretch our legs.” He gruffly calls back as he leads the Saddler off of the trail and into the meadow, bright and sunny as the creek meanders through it.  The mountain air, cold and clean, burns your lungs slightly as you inhale, closing your eyes against the sun for a moment.

In that gentle, cold breeze, tall purple lupines sway among the grasses, reaching the horse’s knees as it slowly walks into the open plain. This place is so open and bright, its beauty takes you aback as Arthur slows the horse to a stop. Sliding out of the saddle, he immediately reaches up and takes you by the waist, as was customary, and helps you down.

“Nice out ‘here, ain’t it?”

“Beautiful,” you murmur, shielding your eyes from the sun as you survey the large valley.

Arthur pulls out a worn woolen blanket from his horse’s saddlebag. He lays it out upon the ground, nodding up at you to take a seat. You do so, and a comfortable silence falls between the two of you as Arthur sits opposite you and fiddles with his satchel, looping the strap over his head and hat, placing the bag next to him before flipping the lid open and searching around in it. 

You turn away and look on as a herd of pronghorn does graze in the distance.

“Saw this out the other day.”

You glance back at the gunslinger, to find him opening his leather-bound journal to a page and taking out a small, dried head of blossoms pressed between its pages. He holds it out to you, and your eyes widen as you gaze upon it - gaze upon the outrageousness of it all, the man with a five-thousand-dollar bounty, beating a debtor not two hours earlier, delicately holding the smallest, most fragile dried blossom between his thumb and trigger finger.

“That’s…” You trail off, incredulously.

“Never did tell me why you was named after a plant.”

You ignore the quip as you reach toward his gloved hand and the dried flower. The soft purple blossom, fragile and delicate, exchanges hands as he gently places it in your palm. His fingers linger for a moment, suspended in time.

The proper name, Latin, printed next to sketches in scientific books.

You smile, snorting lightly through your nose, “My mother… There was a heather bush outside her window on the farm she grew up on. Back in Ireland. She used to tell me seein’ those blossoms made her some kind of happy. Would tell me that when I was born, seeing me made her feel the same way. So, Calluna it was.”

There’s an ache in your chest. An ache of fondness. Not dissimilar to the ache that you felt when Abigail held your hand as you cradled her son to your chest in a feverish haze. Not dissimilar to the ache in your chest when Hosea held you to him when you sobbed on the banks of Owanjila. 

Someone thinking of you. These moments, they hack away at the depth of despair and loneliness that you have been drowning in. Maybe... Just maybe, you weren’t just Calluna Shaw, widow, alone in the world.

You look back up at Arthur, that ache fluttering up like a butterfly in flight.

“Thank you, Mister Morgan. You can be awful sweet.”

You smile, and with the way his battered heart aches in his chest, he knows he’s in trouble. He can feel the blush bloom across his cheeks and he looks away, desperate to save face. Movement in the distance of the meadow draws his attention.

“Look, how’s about we bring back somethin’ for Pearson’s stew, huh?” Arthur looks out past the waving lupines to where the creek meanders back and forth through the valley. In the soft light of sunset, he points about a hundred yards up the valley.

A pronghorn buck drinks from the stream, finally visible to you as you squint and pull a stray curl of hair back, tucking it behind your ear.

“Go on and shoot it.” He nods forward.

“Me?!”

“Yes you, Missus Shaw. Come on, here you go.” Arthur gets up from his seat and steps toward his horse, pulling out a rifle for you to take from his saddlebag. You carefully place the blossom on the blanket before standing up, dusting off your skirts as you step toward Arthur and the buttermilk-hided horse.

The firearm nearly drops from your hand when you grasp it, completely unprepared for the weight of the gun. Arthur snorts under his breath as you grasp the Springfield with both hands, holding it up in front of you, and pointing toward the pronghorn in the distance. You frown, the barrel of the rifle swaying as you try to point it. The gun is much heavier than the repeater that Arthur showed you to shoot with earlier.

“C’mere, little lady.”

Oh.

Before you can move, his arms quickly brace yours as he steadies the rifle, heavy in your grasp. Your back presses against his broad chest. A whole head taller than you, you just reach the curve of his shoulder.

You are positive you are blushing fiercely and extremely thankful that he cannot see your face as he leans over your shoulder to line up the sights of the gun. As he does so, you close your eyes, breathing softly out your nose. The leather of his worn jacket - the tobacco he so often smokes, the musk of horse, the tang of whiskey - they all invade your senses as your head spins.

You want to melt into his embrace - he’s tall and broad and handsome in a rugged way. He’s solid and warm and oh, how swept up you feel to be wrapped up in his arms - even if this is in no way intimate. 

You want. You want to keep your eyes shut, tilt your neck, and give him access to suckle at your skin. You want his arm to leave yours and his large hand to engulf your breast. You want to be covered by him, held and possessed, and smothered and cherished. Everything melts away. The debt earlier, Arthur’s anger and threats, the fearful man and his family. It all just…fades.

You want.

“Both eyes open, darlin’.”

At the term of endearment, you steady your arms, holding the firearm jointly with him. Arthur is warm and solid and oh, with his arms around you, you feel so safe.

The buck raises his head from the stream.

Arthur’s breath tickles your ear as his whiskered jaw brushes your temple.

“Now.”

You pull the trigger.

[agaypanic]

Hey! Could you do Charlie Swan x wife fem!reader where she own a bakery and they first met there (sort of flashback) and their journey through their relationship. And please add Bella (as someone nice & she accept her). Tag me later! Thank :)

Black Coffee and a Bagel (Charlie Swan X Baker!Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: Chief Swan coming into your bakery for breakfast one day turns into a life full of love, baking, and coffee.

A/N: this took forever to write holy shit. i usually dont add the word count to the actual fic, but i feel like i should tell yall this is over 5k words… when i read the twilight books (its been so hard getting through them bc they’re lowkey boring guys…) i envision charlie as billy burke but with kinda curly hair bc that’s what he has in the books, so that’s how he looks in this lol reader’s age isn’t specified so she can be read as charlie’s age or younger (legal obvi). maybe a bit ooc charlie but idc

***

It was a usual cloudy day in Forks, Washington. Like most other town residents, you didn’t really mind the gloomy weather. As long as your heaters worked and you had a decent jacket, you didn’t really care.

You were always the busiest in the morning. You owned a bakery in the middle of town, the only one open at six in the morning. Almost everyone came through your shop for breakfast or a drink before heading to work or school. 

But every now and then, you had a first-time customer.

The bell above your front door jingled, and you heard footsteps enter with a bit of hesitancy. You looked up from the espresso machine you were cleaning to see a man with curly dark hair, a mustache, and a badge.

“Chief Swan,” you smiled, moving to the counter. He was looking around the bakery with mild curiosity. “Haven’t seen you here before.”

“Yeah, I uh… I forgot to grab a coffee before I left the house.” He sounded like he was a bit embarrassed by his mistake. Then he finally looked up, chocolate brown eyes locking with yours. “And a lot of people talk about this place, so I figured it’d be a good opportunity to check it out.”

“Well, I’m glad to have you here. Welcome to Bear Claw Bakery.” You smile at him, maybe a bit too cheerfully for how early in the morning it was, but it was all part of your brand. Seeing such a handsome face also helped. “I can make any coffee you’d like.”

“I can see that.” Chief Swan said, gesturing to the convoluted drink menu on the wall behind you. He seemed a bit intimidated by all the choices.

“How about a black coffee?” He lit up, seemingly relieved by your suggestion.

“Yes, please. Large.”

As you made his coffee, you fell into a comfortable silence. You became focused on his drink, and he decided to peruse your display cases of baked goods. After all, this was a bakery.

“See anything you like?” You ask as you put the lid on his cup, remembering to add a sleeve so he wouldn’t burn his hand.

He hummed, staring at a tray of bagels for a few seconds before looking at you. He straightened up, pointing to the baked goods.

“Could I get a bagel? Plain.” 

“Of course!” You slid the glass door open and grabbed a bagel with your tongs, putting it in a goody bag and folding the top a few times. Chief Swan watched you for a small moment before fumbling for his wallet, keeping his eyes on the counter in front of him. You watched him pull out a bill and waved your hand. “Oh, no. On the house.”

“What?” He looked up at you in surprise, and you just smiled at him.

“Think of it as a first-time discount.” You shrug as you push his coffee and bagel towards him. 

He folded the bill but didn’t put it back in his wallet. Instead, while maintaining eye contact, he dropped it into the tip jar beside him.

“Thanks, uh…” He said as he pocketed the wallet and grabbed his coffee. It was then that you realized that he didn’t know your name.

“Oh! Y/n.” You stuck your hand out without thinking. But before you could pull it back, he shook your hand with a polite smile. “And you’re obviously Chief Swan.” You said with an airy laugh.

“Please, call me Charlie.” He punctuated his name by squeezing your hand before letting go. There was a softness to his tone that you didn’t suspect, but you enjoyed it.

“Charlie,” you repeated, liking the sound of it. “I hope you like the coffee and the bagel.”

He nodded once, grabbed the goody bag still on the counter, and left with a small wave. You didn’t have much time to think about the interaction because a group of high schoolers soon came in, chattering loudly about different things. One thing you knew for sure, though, was that you hoped he’d be back sometime soon.

***

You were surprised to see Charlie back at the bakery the next day. You were unlocking the front door when he pulled up next to your car in his police cruiser.

“Right on time.” You laughed as he exited the car. “I’m just starting to open.”

“Sorry, I didn’t know your hours,” he said, checking his watch. The sun was barely starting to peek out from the clouds. “I have to go to the station early today, was hoping I could get coffee and a bagel.”

“Of course! Come on in,” you say, holding the door open just long enough for him to catch as you rush to behind the counter.

You started on Charlie’s coffee before going to the back to get a bag of fresh bagels. At the front, he was leaning against the counter, waiting for you.

“So I’m guessing you liked it?” You asked with a smile as you bagged up a bagel for him, putting the rest in the display case. “The coffee and bagel? Since you came back.” You added after a moment of silence.

“Oh, yeah!” He said, sounding as if he was a bit distracted by something. “Both were delicious.”

“I’m glad.” You placed his bagel and coffee on the counter.

“Now I’m hoping to actually pay this time,” Charlie said, raising his brows, and you couldn’t help but giggle. You told him the total, and when you gave him his change, he dropped it into the tip jar. “Thanks again. And sorry for coming so early.”

“It’s no problem, Chief-” You cut yourself off, receiving a knowing look from him. “Charlie. It’s really no problem. Hope you have a good day.” 

“Same to you, Y/n.” 

Charlie grabbed his things, waved at you, and walked out. After watching him drive away, you continued to open the bakery for the day. As you served the people coming in, you wondered if Charlie’s coming in would become a regular occurrence. Deep down, you hoped so.

***

Charlie Swan coming to the bakery became a daily habit. It pleased you not only because you were proud to have such a loyal customer, but also because the man was handsome and very nice, despite his usual awkward demeanor. He’d be one of the first people to come in, or the first if he had to go to the station early. You always savored the small talk you shared with him, silently begging for no one to come in when he talked because then he’d stay a little longer, no matter how many times he said that he should really be going.

You were really starting to like Charlie Swan, both as a friend and something more. Of course, you kept that part to yourself.

“Black coffee and a bagel.” It was more of a statement than a question as Charlie opened the door. He ordered the same thing every day; honestly, you admired his consistency.

“Yup.” He responded, pulling out his wallet before he even reached the counter. “Oh, by the way, I was wondering if you did like, deliveries? Or something like that?”

“Depends.” You answer. “I do catering and delivery for parties and stuff.”

“Ah,” Charlie clicked his tongue, seeming a little disappointed. “Was just wondering because I’ve been having to work a lot of late nights with all those bear attacks.”

“Oh yeah, I’ve heard a bit about those,” you sighed. “Poor people.”

“Yeah, I know. And anyways, if I’m being honest, your coffee’s better than the stuff we have at the station. But I get it if you don’t do that sort of thing.”

“I can do it!” You decide before even thinking about it. But when you gave it some thought, you remembered that you were the boss. If you went while one of your employees was working, they could surely hold down the fort for the ten minutes you’d be gone. “I, um, I can do that for you.”

“Really?” Although his expression didn’t change much, you could tell that Charlie’s eyes were lighting up. He must’ve really loved your coffee.

“Yeah! Perks of being your own boss.” You laugh, grabbing a piece of paper and writing down your number. “We don’t have a phone for the bakery yet; I just keep forgetting to do that. So this is my number.” You slid the paper over to Charlie, who grabbed it without letting his eyes leave you. “Just call me, and it’ll probably take me five to ten minutes to get to the station. We close at nine, but I stay way later than that most nights, so feel free to call whenever.”

Charlie pocketed the piece of paper like it was a precious item he didn’t want to get wrinkled or crumpled. 

“I’ll do that,” he said, reaching for his breakfast. “I’ll see you later, Y/n.”

“See you later, Charlie.” You watched him leave, and once he was out the door, you finally realized that you had just unabashedly given the cute Chief of Police your phone number. Telling him to call you anytime. 

And he did. At around eight that night, you got a call from an unknown number, and a somewhat groggy Charlie was speaking on the other end.

“Y/n?” He asked, as if he was unsure whether or not you had actually given him your number.

“Hey, Charlie!” you responded, clearly more awake than him. “Need a coffee?”

“Please.” He sounded desperate, and you were a bit embarrassed by the fact that his tone needed you to take a moment to recompose yourself. The way he said it was a bit whiny, but his voice was husky, probably from his tiredness. A long sigh came from the phone. “I feel like I’m going crazy over here.”

“Then I’ll be over soon.” 

You and Charlie said quick goodbyes to each other, and you went to the counter to make his coffee. You told Maddie, who was working the closing shift with you, that you’d be back soon, but she could lock up without you if needed. Then you were on your way to the police station.

The parking lot was empty except for one cruiser, which you guessed was Charlie’s. Walking into the building to find it empty and dark, aside from an office at the far end, confirmed your suspicions.

“Delivery for Chief Swan.” You say, knocking on his office door, which was cracked open the slightest bit. Charlie looked up at you from his desk, and you wouldn’t be surprised if your presence had awakened him from an unplanned nap. His dark curly locks were a tousled mess, probably the result of his hands constantly running through them, and his eyelids seemed heavy.

“My savior,” Charlie grumbled, sitting up the slightest bit and reaching for the large cup. You stood in silence as you watched him gulp down the hot liquid, wondering how he didn’t immediately stop in pain. You guessed that his fatigue made him immune somehow, or less caring about burning his throat. “Good stuff.”

“Maybe instead of drinking it and scalding yourself, you should head home?” You suggested with a small laugh.

“Too much to do,” Charlie said with a sigh, leaning back in his chair. “Too much going on for me to stop.”

“Well, it’s better to stop before you reach your limit, or you might be stopping for good.”

Charlie thought about what you said with a slight hum. His half-lidded eyes scanned his messy desk, cluttered with reports and other papers. To be completely honest, he was starting to doze off a little by the time you came, and words were starting to jumble together when he tried to read. 

“M’kay.” He sighed, taking another sip of coffee, this time wincing a bit at the heat. “You got a point there.” 

You watched as Charlie somewhat sluggishly got ready to leave. He threw on his jacket and turned off the lights, gesturing for you to leave the office first. When you got to the station’s front entrance, he held the door open for you.

“Thanks for the coffee.” He said after walking you to your car. “And drive safe.”

“Anytime,” you respond, opening the door and getting in the driver’s seat. “And the same goes for you.”

Charlie smiled, patting the top of your car as a farewell before walking over to his cruiser. Although he had turned on his car before you, he didn’t start driving until you left the parking lot.

***

A few months later, you were at your absolute busiest. Graduation was just around the corner, and almost every senior’s parent in Forks called asking if you could cater or do pick up orders for graduation parties. Although it meant your business would be booming for a while, you were slowly losing your sanity.

“Just a second!” You yelled from the back room after hearing the bell above the door ring. Carefully, you slid a large tray filled with cupcakes into one of your fridges and closed the door.

“Take your time!” Charlie yelled back, making you want to be as quick as possible. You wiped your hands on your apron and ran to the front, where Charlie greeted you with a smile. “Hey, Y/n. You busy?”

“Always am,” you laughed, leaning against the counter. “But I always have time for you, Charlie. Black coffee and a bagel?”

“You know me so well.” Charlie watched as you moved around, making his hot drink and picking out a bagel from the stack you had made this morning. “How are things?”

“Hectic.” You answer, rising from your crouched position to bag up the bagel. “But it’s nothing I can’t handle. Almost every parent has been ordering at least seventy-five cupcakes for their kids’ graduation parties, and there’s at least three parties happening every week.” You grabbed Charlie’s coffee, putting a lid on the cup before handing it to him. Despite it being scalding hot, he took a sip while he listened. “I’m grateful, obviously, but if I have to frost another cupcake, I think I’m gonna get carpal tunnel.”

“I forgot graduation parties were a thing,” Charlie said with a slightly embarrassed laugh. “I don’t know if Bella would want one, though; she kind of hates being the center of attention.”

“Well, if she decides to have one, you know who to call for the baked goods.” You say with a smile, taking Charlie’s cash and watching him put the change in the tip jar. You loved the familiarity and routine that you had with Charlie. Every day, he ordered the same thing without fail, asked how you were doing, used a bill that was anywhere between a few dollars more to over twice the amount needed, and put the change he got into your decorated tip jar. 

“I’ll ask her about it.” To most, it looked like Charlie was wearing a straight face. But you could tell that there was a slight upward curve to his lip. “Kinda hoping she says yes. I think it’d be fun.”

“Have a good day, Charlie.”

“Have a good day, Y/n.”

Later in the day, the bakery was crowded. School had just gotten out, and most of the kids came for a little pick-me-up, whether it was some kind of caffeinated drink or a sweet treat. Plus, some parents came by to pick up their party orders.

You didn’t expect to see Charlie in the crowd today, accompanied by a girl who seemed around high school age. You assumed that this was Bella, his daughter.

“Hey, Y/n.” Charlie greeted you once they reached the counter. “Place is packed.”

“Yup! I think finals are just around the corner, so these kids need all the help they can get.” You looked over at the young girl who stood next to Charlie. “Is this your daughter?”

“Yeah. Y/n, this is Bella. Bella, this is Y/n.” You greeted each other before Charlie spoke again. “I asked Bella about the whole graduation party thing, and she said it sounded like fun. So I decided to meet her here on my break so we could set up an order.”

“Awesome!” You grinned, grabbing an order form. Usually, you would be slightly dying on the inside if someone was making an order like this. But there seemed to be something about Charlie that diffused any annoyance or dread you would normally feel. “So, what were you thinking? Cupcakes?”

“Actually, we were thinking of a cake.” This answer made you perk up. Bella nodded, confirming the decision, which you quickly jotted down. While the three of you talked, Charlie’s radio on his shoulder sounded. “I gotta take this, I’ll be right back. Bells, just tell Y/n what you want, and I’ll pay for it. And if you want a drink or something, go ahead and order. Oh! Could I get a-”

“Black coffee?” You finished, giving Charlie a knowing smile. His usually pale cheeks seemed to turn pink, but you just chalked it up to the slightly warm and crowded room. “Of course, now go take your call.”

You waved Charlie away, who fought against the small crowd of students to get out of the building. You asked two of your employees to get on the register and start taking orders before turning back to Bella. As you wrote down what she wanted, she spoke somewhat timidly, as if she was saying something that was supposed to be a secret.

“He talks about you sometimes.” You looked at her with slight confusion. “My dad.”

“Oh?” Your heartbeat quickened at the information. It surprised you that Charlie thought of you outside of the bakery, let alone talked about you. “Really?”

“Yeah.” She bit her lip, trying to keep more from spilling. But it didn’t work. “Half of the time, he’s raving about your coffee.”

“It’s just black coffee,” you said with a shrug, flipping the pen around with your fingers to release your giddy energy.

“Yeah, but you’re the one who makes it. And the other half of the time, he’s talking about how nice you are.”

“He thinks I’m nice?” You were glad your employees were taking care of the other customers because you were now completely distracted from the task at hand. Bella nodded, and you couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “Well, I think he’s nice, too.”

“Who’s nice?” You and Bella jumped at Charlie’s surprise return.

“Uhh, no one.” You brushed off, quickly filling out the rest of the paper before turning it around and handing Charlie your pen. “Sign here, and we can get started on the order. Oh, did you want to do pick up or delivery?”

“Delivery,” Bella answered before Charlie could, eyes darting from you to her father. Neither of you opposed, so when you got the paper back, you marked the delivery option.

“Delivery it is.” You said, putting your pen in one of your apron pockets. “Charlie, I’ll get you your coffee. Bella, did you want anything?”

“No, I’m fine, thanks.” You nodded and quickly made a large black coffee. After checking them out and Charlie putting his change in the jar, you waved goodbye to the two Swans. “See you next week, Bella. And I’ll see you tomorrow, Charlie?”

“Of course.” He said with a smile before guiding Bella out of the shop.

You couldn’t wait to see Charlie Swan again.

***

A week later, you loaded Bella’s finished graduation cake into your car. After telling Maddie you’d be back soon, you got in the driver’s seat and drove to the Swan house. Everyone knew where everyone was in this town, but you still had your eyes glued to your map when they weren’t on the road, too scared to miss a turn. 

Soon, you pulled up to a white two-story house. You were confident that it was Charlie’s place when you saw his police cruiser and a red truck, which must have been Bella’s. There were a few cars scattered up and down the street, but you found a free spot right in front of the cop car. When you got out and grabbed the two-tiered cake, Charlie emerged from the front door.

“Y/n! You made it!” He jogged over to you as you closed the car door with a swing of your hip. “Here, lemme get that for ya.”

“You’re sweet, Charlie.” You carefully handed the cake to him and followed him inside. The place seemed to be packed with teens and their parents. Some stood out, and you knew exactly who they were from their pale complexions and beautiful features.

“Did you wanna stay for a bit?” Charlie asked as he set the cake down on a table. He scratched the back of his head, growing a bit shy. “You, uhh, you could taste your masterpiece. Mingle and stuff.”

“I should probably be getting back to the bakery…” You looked down at your watch. You supposed you could spare a few minutes. After all, you were the boss. Maddie was responsible; she would call you if she had any problems. “Well, I think I could stay a few minutes.”

“Great.” Charlie put on a large grin, one that you had probably never seen before. But it suited him nicely. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”

Charlie laid a hand on the small of your back to guide you through the small crowd. You already knew most of the people here, either regulars of yours or having recently become well acquainted with them because of delivery or pick-up orders. But then Charlie took you to a small group of people that you don’t remember every meeting, but you knew of them well.

“Y/n, these are the Cullens.” Charlie introduced. “Doctor Carlisle, his wife Esme, Bella’s boyfriend Edward, and his sister Alice.”

“It’s nice to meet you all.” You said kindly, shaking each hand that reached out to you. Their hands were cold, but that didn’t bother you. It was actually a bit refreshing after having your hands in and out of ovens for the past few weeks.

“Y/n made Bella’s cake,” Charlie said, proudly pointing to your creation on the table. “She owns Bear Claw Bakery. She’s… pretty amazing, at what she does.”

“I see that,” Carlisle said, looking at the cake. “Amazing detail, I bet it looks even better up close. You’re quite talented.”

“All you need is a steady hand.” You said, not used to compliments or attention like this. 

“Well, I know a thing or two about that,” Carlisle said with a laugh. You laughed along, and you couldn’t help but notice Charlie’s hand move to wrap more around your waist.

“Thank you for making Bella’s cake,” Edward said, his voice cool and even. “I’m sure she’ll love it.”

“She will,” Alice said with finality, as if she had already seen Bella’s reaction to the cake.

“Thank you.” You couldn’t help but lean slightly into Charlie; he was just so warm and comfortable. He seemed a bit surprised but didn’t reject your actions. Instead, he welcomed them with a squeeze on your waist. “I was happy to do it, really.”

“Do you want a drink?” Charlie asked, leaning close to you to ask.

“Sure.” As Charlie guided you to the kitchen, you looked over your shoulder at the Cullens. “It was nice to meet you!” They all gave similar and polite responses. And then they were out of view, and you and Charlie were alone in the kitchen.

For a while, you and Charlie stayed in the kitchen, watching people pass by to talk to others or get a refreshment. This was the first time you were around Charlie in a non-professional environment. You were both nervous and ecstatic.

“So, how’d you get into, uh, baking and stuff?” Charlie asked, taking a swig of his beer. You took a sip of your Coke before responding.

“My mom, I think. Every birthday or special occasion, she always insisted on making a giant cake or cupcakes or whatever, instead of buying it from the store. I liked to help her, mainly because she’d let me eat the leftover frosting and pour the batter in the pan.” You leaned on the counter, smiling fondly at the memories that ran through your head. “Even when you’re by yourself, I think it’s really special. I dunno, that’s kind of a sappy answer, but-”

“No, no.” Charlie shook his head before smiling at you. “I think that’s really sweet.”

After a brief moment of eye contact, you both took a sip of your drinks, lifting them to your lips and setting them down simultaneously.

“Are you doing anything this Saturday?” The question surprised you and Charlie, even though Charlie had asked it. But he didn’t take it back. Instead, he waited for a response while anxiously tapping his fingers against his beer bottle.

“Maybe.” You said with a shrug. “Why do you ask?”

“Well…” Charlie’s fingers smoothed over his mustache, which you had noticed to be a habit of his when he was thinking. “I’ve never really baked before, I think. And you make it sound like a lot of fun. So… I dunno, I was wondering if maybe you wanted to come over or something, and we could make something?”

“I’d love to.” You said, butterflies filling your stomach. 

“Really?” Charlie seemed relieved by your answer, and you nodded swiftly to solidify it. “Great! Maybe this time, I can make you a coffee.”

“I’d like that a lot.” You took a sip of your Coke to contain your growing smile, but it didn’t help much. Your giddiness was infectious, Charlie feeling the exact excitement you were.

***

When Saturday came, you had an extra pep in your step. You made sure to put a slight bit more effort into your appearance before you left. You knew you didn’t have to impress Charlie in any way, but this felt like a sort of milestone. You were going to spend time with him outside of work, doing one of your favorite activities together.

“Bella’s out with Edward,” Charlie said as he let you into the house. “So we’ll have the house to ourselves.”

“Sounds good to me.” You responded, setting your bag on the kitchen counter and pulling out a recipe card.

“So, what are we making?” He asked, clapping his hands and rubbing them together as he looked over your shoulder.

“Black Forest gâteau.” You answered, looking down at the card and then up at Charlie. He seemed slightly confused, but looked like he didn’t want you to know he was confused. You laughed lightly. “Basically, a chocolate cake with cherry filling.”

“Ah.” Charlie nodded in understanding. “Sounds delicious.”

While you started taking ingredients out of your bag, Charlie made a pot of coffee for the both of you. After pouring himself a plain black coffee, he asked you what you wanted in yours. When he was finished, he handed you the warm mug, and you both simultaneously took a sip. You sighed in delight.

“Delicious.” You said, giving him a wink before turning back to your ingredients. Charlie took another gulp of coffee to hide his flusteredness before moving to stand next to you.

You guided Charlie through the recipe, working together to measure ingredients and mix them. While pouring the batter into a few cake pans, you made light conversation about your days since Bella’s party. After the pans were put in the oven to bake, you made the cherry filling to put between the layers. 

“This is really nice.” You said, slowly dropping down to sit in front of the oven to watch the cake layers bake for the next few minutes. Charlie dried his hands and walked over to you, looking down at you curiously. “Thanks for having me over.”

Charlie crouched next to you and sighed, probably because he wasn’t used to sitting on the floor. He mirrored your position, legs crisscrossed and elbows resting on his knees.

“No problem.” 

The two of you watched the cakes slowly rise through the small oven window. Basking in the quiet and comfortable moment, you couldn’t help but lean over and rest your head on Charlie’s shoulder. 

“This is really nice.” You repeated, albeit quieter, even though there was no need to whisper. Charlie’s head tilted to rest on yours, lifting his bent right leg and planting his foot on the floor to be more comfortable.

“Yeah…” Charlie’s hand drifted towards yours, and in a moment of bravery, you grabbed it and intertwined his fingers with yours. “It is.”

***

Over the next two months, you and Charlie grew closer than you ever thought possible. He still came to the bakery every day for his coffee and bagel. But almost every weekend, you’d go to each other’s house to make some kind of treat, and Charlie always insisted on making coffee for both of you. 

Getting closer to Charlie meant you also got closer to Bella. She was a bit reserved, spending most of her time with her boyfriend and his family. But you were able to make conversation with her whenever you were both at the Swan house. It was usually only a few minutes, the sweet spot where you had arrived and Bella was about to leave. But it was special to you.

You were a bit shocked when you found out that Bella and Edward were getting married in August, just under two months after they had graduated high school. Bella hadn’t even turned nineteen yet. But you knew love when you saw it, and it wasn’t like you had a say on the matter. Bella was grateful, however, for you being able to calm Charlie down when he found out about it.

When she told you she was getting married, Bella asked if you could make the wedding cake. You didn’t even think before saying yes, feeling honored that she wanted you to do it. After some talking, you both decided on a green triple-tiered cake covered in fondant flowers to resemble a meadow.

“You did amazing.” Charlie had snuck up behind you during the reception, the two of you looking at the cake you had worked so hard on.

“Thank you, bear.” You don’t really remember how Charlie’s nickname came about, but it fit him so well that you started to refer to him with the nickname more than his real name. Although you weren’t together, it was said with all the affection and love you held for him.

Music echoed throughout the Cullens’s backyard, where the wedding and reception were held. It was a beautiful forest, lit by fairy lights strung around tall trees. 

“Do you wanna dance?” Charlie asked timidly, looking at the dancefloor littered with people for a moment before returning to you. “I mean, I’m not much of a dancer. But if you want to, I-”

“I’d love to.” You cut him off with a bright smile, grabbing his hand and dragging him towards the crowd.

Despite saying he wasn’t a dancer, Charlie moved well. He kept one of your hands in a gentle grip while his other was planted firmly on your waist, radiating warmth. As you listened to the music, you rested your head on his chest, sighing contently. 

“I love you, Charlie Swan,” you said softly, too relaxed and in the moment to keep your filter. You felt Charlie stiffen under you briefly before he, too, relaxed. He held your hand tighter, keeping it to his chest.

“I love you too, Y/n L/n.” You lifted your head just enough to look at him. The soft look he gave you made you weak at the knees, but you found the strength to reach up to kiss him. 

“Alice,” Bella said softly to her new sister-in-law, the two girls watching you and Charlie closely, unbeknownst to you. “Do you think this’ll last? Them, I mean.”

Alice turned to Bella and smiled before looking back at the two of you. You broke apart from the kiss and continued to dance.

“I’ve had the same vision of them since I met Y/n. They get to grow old together.”

“So Charlie will be happy? And Y/n?” Alice placed a comforting hand on Bella’s shoulder, knowing why she was asking these questions. The Cullens knew what Bella wanted, and Bella knew it would probably kill Charlie when she got what she had been chasing after for so long.

“The happiest. Whatever it is they have, it’s special. You won’t have to worry about either of them.”

Bella sighed in relief, patting Alice’s hand.

“Thanks.”

[seiya-starsniper]

Six Degrees of Separation - Ch 4 (Sandman x Dead Boy Detectives)

Relationships: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Hob Gadling, Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland, Crystal Palace/Charles Rowland (DCU), Johanna Constantine/Jenny Green Rating: Teen & Up | Status: Incomplete | Chapters 4/6 | Words: 7.3K

Tags: POV Multiple, Hob Gadling gives live advice to a bunch of teenagers, while helping them solve cases, that's it that's the fic, also he maybe plays matchmaker for his hot mess bestie, fic starts out as crystal/charles and ends with charles/edwin, Mutual Pining, Slice of Life, Hob Gadling adopts the Dead Boy Detectives

Summary:

The Dead Boy Detectives run into a familiar pub while out on a case, and Crystal has to contend with an unfortunate event from her past. Hob Gadling wasn't planning on adopting three teenagers and a full grown woman, but stranger things have happened in his long centuries of life.

Tumblr Posts: Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3

Read Chapter 4 below, or at the above link on AO3

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“Jenny, can you help me with these boxes?” Hob calls out to the kitchen as his supplier finishes unloading their cargo from the delivery truck. It’s early, and only the two of them are at the Inn at present. Hob had told Jenny that she didn’t need to come in the mornings when she’d first started, but the former butcher had wandered in anyways on her first week, claiming she needed to do something with her jet lag or she’d go insane. 

Almost two months later, Jenny’s still on the morning shift most days and Hob’s grateful for it, honestly. Having run her own place back in the states means she’s efficient, and doesn’t take any nonsense when suppliers are late or trying to argue with him. She’s also great for commiserating with, whether it’s about customer service or really annoying supernatural occurrences. Like the poltergeist in her apartment that the boys had to exorcise the week before. 

When they’re done unloading everything, Hob stays back in the kitchen to put everything away, while Jenny gets ready for opening. There’s not usually a lot of people right at opening, except on Sundays, when all the hungover university students are craving brunch, so Hob’s not worried about leaving Jenny alone out there while he preps in the back. 

When he finally emerges a little after 1:00pm, right when the lunch rush starts to pick up, one of his newer regulars is chatting happily with Jenny, and he can tell by her body language that she seems utterly charmed by the American. 

“She seems nice,” Hob teases his newest employee later. “Pretty too.”

“Yeah I’m not—really into blondes,” Jenny replies, and something about the caginess in her voice tells Hob that there’s a story behind that. He’s not sure if it’s related to how she ended up with the Dead Boy Detective Agency or not, but he makes a note to ask Edwin about it later. He was coming by later to look at Hob’s tomes again to see if there was a spell in there that could help with their latest case.   

“Ah well, plenty of fish in the sea,” Hob says easily. “Especially when you go from living in a small town in America to great old London. How are you adjusting, by the way?”

Jenny happily accepts the subject change and takes the opportunity to complain about her flat. The boys had exorcised the poltergeist, but not before it had flung nearly all of her belongings about the entire place, and put a few holes she’d have to fix before her landlord noticed. Hob had offered to help her find a new place while the whole incident was occurring, but Jenny had been stubborn and refused to move. Still is refusing to move, in fact.

Godspeed to her, Hob thinks. Hopefully another ghost won’t move in.

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“Niko attempted to play matchmaker with Jenny by arranging her to meet with her secret admirer,” Edwin tells him later that afternoon as he peruses the pages of one of Hob’s, or rather Mad Hettie’s, cursebreaker books. “Unfortunately, Maxine also revealed herself to be Jenny’s stalker, and when she saw that made Jenny uncomfortable, tried to kill her.”

“Oh bloody hell,” Hob says, nearly choking on his tea. “Yeah, I’d swear off dating for a while too.”

“Indeed,” Edwin says, flipping through the pages of a particularly heavy looking volume. “Relationships seem so much more…complicated in this day and age,” Edwin notes casually. Hob studies him for a moment, wondering if Edwin had come to talk to him about something that wasn’t quite related to his work.

“They are,” Hob agrees, taking another sip of his tea. “But there’s a lot more freedom too. You can choose who you love now, regardless of status, race, religion or…gender,” he adds, carefully studying Edwin’s face for some sort of reaction.

“Ah ha! Found it,” Edwin exclaims, either completely ignoring Hob’s comment, or too caught up in his discovery to notice what the immortal had said. He looks up at Hob and smiles. “Do you mind if I borrow this for our case? I promise to bring it back unharmed.”

“Go ahead,” Hob nods, waving casually. Edwin snaps the book shut and heads towards the door of Hob’s flat, then abruptly stops. Something tenses in the boy’s shoulders and Hob thinks he can guess what it is Edwin wants to ask him. 

“Mr Gadling?” Edwin asks, turning back around to face him.

“Hob,” Hob corrects him. “What is it? Did you need something else?”

“No I—this is a more—personal question, if you wouldn’t mind,” Edwin says, his tone now shy instead of confident like it had been moments before. 

“All right,” Hob says, shrugging and trying to look as non-threatening as possible. “What is it?”

Edwin’s face goes through a multitude of emotions before the boy finally seems to find the words he’s looking for.

“How long have you known your proclivities tended towards men as well as women?” Edwin asks, and the bluntness of the question causes Hob to choke on his biscuit. He coughs violently into his sleeve, which catches most of the small crumbs he manages to dislodge from his throat. When he looks up next, Edwin is staring curiously at him, arms wrapped around the book he’d decided to borrow, waiting for Hob to answer his question.

“Uhhhh…” Hob coughs again, then gulps down the rest of his tea, dislodging the last of the offending biscuit. “I guess since the 14th or 15th century?” he says uncertainly, flailing about as he tries to recall the first time he’d ever fancied a man. “I know when you were alive there was all this—” he gestures vaguely, “nonsense around homosexuality, but well—things weren’t always like that. So I guess I’ve known for. A while,” he finishes somewhat lamely.

Edwin sighs, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. He looks like he wants to follow up on his question, but doesn’t seem to know how.

“Something you want to talk about?” Hob asks after a brief silence. Edwin sighs again, then steps back towards the living room, and Hob makes a mental note to make more tea for this longer conversation. 

“It was brought to my attention recently that I am in love with my best friend,” Edwin says, still as straightforward as ever. “But I assume you already knew that.”

Hob shrugs helplessly, not willing to confirm or deny his conversation with Charles. Edwin seems to understand the gesture immediately though. 

“I don’t require the details of your conversations with Charles,” Edwin follows up. “However, I suppose I am seeking some—commiseration. For a broken heart.”

“Well, you’ve come to the right spot,” Hob says with a soft smile. “I know a thing or two about unrequited love with your best friend and all that.”

Edwin tilts his head curiously. “You are speaking of your patron? Death’s brother?”

Hob chokes again, this time only on air.

“Why,” Hob groans, burying his face in his hands, “Does everyone seem to know this?!”

“I am a detective,” Edwin replies, deadpan. “However, you are also extremely obvious in your affections. Perhaps more so than Charles is about Crystal, and that is a feat, I assure you,” he adds, rolling his eyes.

Before Hob can retort that he is very much not obvious, and that Edwin himself is oblivious to just how affectionate Charles is about him, there’s a loud rapping at the front door, which causes both Hob and Edwin to jolt in surprise.

“Oy, Hobsie! Open up, I need your help with something!” a female voice yells from the other side of his door. Hob sighs, knowing the source of the voice all too well, and then reluctantly gets up from his comfortable position on the couch to answer the door.

Johanna Constantine strides in without so much as a hello, making a beeline straight for his study, but then stops suddenly, making direct eye contact with Edwin.

“Hobsie, don’t be alarmed but there’s a dead child in you flat right now,” Johanna says. “And it looks like he’s stealing one of your books.”

Edwin scoffs. “Excuse you, I am borrowing this tome, with permission, I may add.”

“Right,” Hob interjects before Johanna can get another word in. “Jo, this is Edwin, Edwin, this is Johanna Constantine,” he says gesturing between the two of them. “We’re all friends here, no one’s stealing anything.”

“Oh, a Constantine!” Edwin exclaims with delight. “How ever did you get involved with her?” he asks, turning to Hob.

“Long story, kid, but I don’t have time for that right now, I need some help with a case,” Johanna says. “Unless you’ve got any expertise on weird fish men who live in swamps and eat people.”

“Actually, I do,” Edwin says, much to the shock of both Johanna and Hob. “1974,” he adds, as if this explains everything. “I’m happy to help, and I’d love to pick your brain on an old cursed fountain pen, while we’re at it, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Johanna stares at Edwin for a moment, her eyes narrowing.

“You’re those ghost investigators or something, aren’t you?” she asks. “I’d heard of you, but I hadn't realized you were actual children.”

Edwin scoffs. “We are the Dead Boy Detectives, thank you very much, Miss Constantine,” he says. “Now would you like our help or not?”

---------------------------------

A week later, Hob is questioning whether he should’ve introduced Johanna and Edwin as he hangs suspended above a supposedly haunted pond. 

“Are you sure this is safe?” Hob yells from his precarious position. 

“Don’t worry Hobsie!” Johanna yells back as she adjusts the rope to lower Hob closer to the pond. Hob swears he hears a weird growling coming from below the water’s surface. “This shouldn't be low enough to kill you, I think,” Johanna continues. “And anyways, if it is, you’ll just come back!”

“THAT DOESN’T MEAN I WANT TO DIE IN THE FIRST PLACE JO!” Hob shouts back. 

“Not to worry Mr Gadling!” Edwin pipes in. “Charles and I shall ensure your library is well guarded should you unexpectedly perish and we’ll help Jenny out the Inn. Crystal is also quite experienced at sneaking bodies out of hospitals.”

“That was one time!” Crystal exclaims indignantly.

“If you die, do I still get paid on Friday?” Jenny, who has inexplicably decided to tag along for this case, asks. “Or is there like, a 3-5 business day turnaround for resurrection?”

“You better still pay her, Hobsie!” Johanna chimes in, and Hob can see her grinning devilishly at his employee. “A girl’s gotta eat after all,” she adds with a wink towards her.

Terrible. These people were all terrible and he was going to have to die and start over with a new life. And he was going to find some new friends while he was at it too.

---------------------------------

Hob doesn’t die, but he does lose a chunk of shoulder to what’s later revealed to be some half shark, half man monstrosity. At least the damage from that will be gone by tomorrow. Hopefully anyways. Even if Hob did have to cover it up, it certainly wouldn't take nearly as long to heal as a whole resurrection does.

“Jenny is romantically available, by the way,” Hob hears Edwin tell Johanna in a low voice once he's been let down and wrapped in five layers of bandages.

“Is she now?” Johanna asks, in a tone Hob knows is definitely interested. “And you’re so interested in my love life because—?” 

Edwin shrugs, and Hob catches the barest hint of a smile on his face. 

“I think you’d like each other,” is all he says, enigmatic as ever.

“Are you trying to play matchmaker to distract yourself from your own love life?” Hob asks Edwin later when the boy comes to return Hob’s book. “Because I can tell you from first hand experience it only makes you more sad when you do that.” 

Edwin hums. “It’s something Niko would’ve wanted to do,” he says. “She felt so bad after the whole thing with Maxine. But she’s no longer here, so I’ll have to do it in her memory. At least this time I can guarantee Miss Constantine is not a serial killer. The rest of her character though...I suppose she seems...pleasant?”

Hob howls with laughter. “Yeah okay, that’s fair. Need some help with your little scheme then?”

Edwin’s eyes dance with mischief and delight, and Hob’s painfully reminded of Robyn in that moment. He’s never had another child with anyone else besides Eleanor, not knowingly anyways. Being a father was far too painful when you would easily outlive your own child.

But Edwin was already dead, and would be around forever, just like Hob, so perhaps it was inevitable that Hob would love him like a son.

“Okay, so let me tell you what I know about Johanna—”

[astarionfixation]

Chapter 8: "Show me, and I’ll follow you"

Part of "Am I Fu**ing Insane !?!" A multi chapter adventure in Astarion’s mind

Rating: Mature for mentions of sex and blood

CW: mentions of parental abuse, childhood abuse, forced prostitution, implied rape

Word count count: 2.5k

Pairings: Astarion X OFC Tav

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54356776/chapters/139337191

I have a quite serious praise kink. Which also means compliments in the forms of tags and/or comments might very well spur me to write and post more

** Thoughts "" Dialogue - - Remarks ++ Quotes / Memories

The mornings after he feeds on her he has taken the habit to sneak out of bed as she’s about to wake up. Not for any nefarious reason other than finding sustenance to bring back to her, so she can replenish her strength as soon as she awakes.

*She lets me feed off of her in bed, seems only fair I extend the same courtesy*

This time his loot features a freshly baked cheese scone, still warm, and even a cup of coffee. Much like a small feline bringing food gifts to his human who clearly cannot be trusted to hunt and feed themselves properly.

His elegant movements devoid of any sound allow him to keep everything quiet enough so that hopefully they won’t be disturbed by anyone waking up at this ungodsly hour and with any luck, he will still have time to look forward to that morning, time he can just keep her all to himself.

His back pushes into the door of their chamber so he doesn’t immediately see, until he turns around and the cup of coffee almost falls through his long, delicate fingers.

She’s fully awake *disappointedly fully dressed* sitting against the headboard of their bed, her long luscious hair falling inordinately over her shoulders, the neck of her shirt falling down her arm leaving one of her shoulders temporarily naked. Though what makes him swallow in a panic has nothing to do with her tempting looks and everything to do with a shiny little tome, open, in her lap, as she is intently taking notes on it.

The same little shiny book he first thought held the secret to freedom, maybe a clever way to control rather than destroy the wriggling worms in their heads and that would have let him keep his renewed free will and sunbathing inclination, along with his own life. 

The same insignificant little book that, once purloined by his deftly fingers, revealed her eye had been set upon him in ways he could have never suspected from her demeanour.

The same precious little book that he perused over hours, that night that feels so long ago now, after leaving her, intoxicated, in her bed, despite her plea for him to stay, which in hindsight revealed to him for the first time the way she felt about him.

The same vexing little book that revealed something through the way she skipped around words. Something eerily akin to his own tragic loss of ownership over his very own body that must have happened to her as well. 

Despite the naive way she smiled, denying she had anything but a comfortable and happy life thus far to justify her longing for eternity.

Despite the smile never reaching her eyes.

She knew he had read it. At least that latter part, because in that one moment of anger, when for a brief instant he thought she would have denied him her body, her blood, he had to use something, anything to hurt her. And her trauma and abuse seemed the perfect place to hit because he knew how it would have felt if anyone reminded him of every time he had to bend his will and his body, sinuously, to every request of his master, and every desire of the simpletons he had to convince, one way or another, to walk happily towards their demise by following him back to Cazador’s Palace.

His mind is running faster through scenarios and considering the very real possibility of just sneaking away the way he came, disappearing until she goes to find him and hopefully, enough time will have passed by then that they can both ignore this uncomfortable moment. He’s about to swiftly move the heel of his foot through the door to slink away when her voice, still deep from her sleep, announces ineluctably that it’s too late for an escape

“Good morning Astarion”

She sounds… sweet? As always… 

*Is she not mad? Is she not going to bring up my theft? Is she going to pretend nothing ever happened?*

He might be lost examining possible outcomes for a moment too long because when he doesn’t reply she continues

“What? It’s nothing you haven’t seen before anyway”

*Ouch!*

He can try to ignore what she clearly refers to, he can try to focus on his concern for her health which is true anyway…

“I see you’re full of energy this morning darling, maybe I can persuade you to come with me, have a full plate then to break your fast? I’ve got you these meanwhile…”

He resigns himself and closes the door behind him, while circling around the bed and leaving the coffee and scone on the bedside table next to her. He keeps his eyes on the food until she pats the edge of the bed in a silent invitation for him to sit down next to her. And the darn little book is still open on her lap.

“Thank you”

He can feel her eyes on him following her sweet voice, even as he’s trying to avoid her gaze but when the tips of her tapered fingers reach for his cheek he can’t evade it any longer

“Astarion? Is everything alright?”

Her tone is starting to sound almost concerned and so… 

*Fine, there’s no need to make things sound worse than they are. If she isn’t mad yet there is nothing to worry about, nothing to fear… right?*

He’s never going to have as good a chance as this one to finally ask, to understand how her mind actually works

“You never wrote a single line about who I… what I really was… why?”

In truth what he wants to ask is why could she wax lyrical about him -as if she was almost in love!- in her book, while she’d never let anyone suspect -not even him as he holds her every night!- anything of the sorts. But that is as good a start as any to get there…

“Exactly because someone could have gotten hold of it”

*Touché*

But it doesn’t sound like the accusation it should be, and it leaves the door open for more of his prying

“Yet there's so much of your vulnerabilities there, perfectly mapped to strike best. Wasn’t that something to avoid putting down too if you ever thought someone could have…”

He can’t spell it out, of course he’d done it, he stole the book, but the shame catches in his throat. The fear still lingering, ready to have him spring the moment this vulnerable conversation becomes the rightful attack on him it should be.

“That was my hit to take, not yours. I wouldn't put you in jeopardy just because I understood. I can afford a hit myself, but not you.”

She was protecting him way before he ever thought he needed her to be on his side. Even whilst pouring out her mind she had put up enough premunitions just in case his own secrets needed safeguarding. 

“That was incredibly… kind of you, sweet thing… I hope I can… somehow return your kindness, some day…”

His gaze finally rises to meet hers and she is just softly smiling at him, her head giving a slight nod towards the food he went to find for her before she replies:

“You already do”

And then it’s like even without the tadpole powers she can read his mind because the reassurance is confirmed by her words as well and she continues:

“Is there anything else you'd like to ask me about it?”

This time his own hand reaches for hers, both resting on the open page she was writing on just before this surreal conversation started. 

*What if we could finally talk? Actually talk and learn, truly learn how similar our stories might just be?*

He had those glimpses from her diary to suggest so after all. A part of his mind is already screaming at him to turn it all around in a joke and get as far away as possible from that dangerous subject, but his concern, his need to understand and possibly finding slivers of himself in her is impossible to push away.

“What happened to you… before?”

She lets his words linger for a moment, and he’s left wondering if there was any other way, any clearer yet kind way to ask about something he knows will be painful if remotely akin to his own experience. Her voice comes out calmly as her hand holds his so that the other one can close the book and set it aside.

“You mean the men I had to sleep with?”

He can feel the grimace that’s taking hold of his own features, while she seems as calm and ethereal as always, no different from when she bid him good morning just moments before. But he knows, or he thinks he does? He must! It must be close to what he has gone through! And that is a way as good as any to begin tracing this sad parallel of theirs

“Would it help if I said I certainly had to sleep with more?”

She shakes her head, a sad smile taking hold of her delicate features

“I am sorry you had to go through that too… for me it was my mother. I don’t remember when it started… but every time she’d let one of them stay in my room… the farm got better equipment, I was getting small knick knacks and little gifts, so it was as good a way as any to think it was bearable.”

His other hand had come to reach out for hers, now both covering, cradling hers. Every fibre in his body wants to hug her, to hold her, to promise her nothing even remotely similar will ever happen to her again. To either of them. At the back of his mind a part of him is tearing and devouring innards and flesh of the horrible excuse for a parent that did this to her, distracted by the idea of how many minuscule pieces he could mince her into, until absolutely nothing resembling a living thing would remain of her so called mother. He knows he has to weight his words so everything gets pushed back while he only allows himself to share:

“I am so sorry my sweet”

He’s not used to hearing his voice being that strained, as if something is threatening to strangle his throat from the inside. When she speaks her next words he realises the corners of his eyes are getting weirdly moist

“Truly, don’t worry Astarion, it was a long time ago… and I ran away as soon as I could manage anyway. It’s in the past. I am as far from that as you are from your mortal life, trust me.”

*The irony of being two broken pieces accidentally fitting against each other.*

His silence and traitor expression must give away more than he meant to because she continues her explanation of her own volition

“That’s why I asked you… I told you we couldn’t kiss. I needed a boundary that was… mine. I know it sounds silly to you but because you didn’t push that… I know I am safe with you.”

Suddenly the pieces are beginning to form a meaningful picture in his head and her behaviour, her rules, her need for him she seemed to deny herself, they all make perfect sense, coming together in a mix of conflicting feelings and desires she never had a chance to explore safely.

“I am not that naive, I know what we do… what we share… it’s more… and believe me, I want more… still you never tried to break that one rule and… well… no one ever showed me such consideration before…”

His mind has gone blank

*What did she just confess to!? What is this???*

His mouth must have fallen open because he finds himself in need of swallowing, yet no words, no ideas as to how to reply to that revelation come through. His hands are still resting over hers and suddenly he realises her fingers are pressing harder against his own, interlacing them with his. Her gaze falls to their intertwined fingers, her voice is low and barely a whisper now

“They always just took from me”

*They always just wanted me to give more*

His eyes are transfixed on their hands, holding onto each other so intensely he's worried she will bruise. Her voice comes out more hesitant and trembling now

“I was never asked… I don’t think I know what I actually… want… like”

*I was always demanded to do… and I don’t think I know how to give up that control, that’s all I latched onto…*

Her heartbeat resonates like a drum in her chest and he can see the blood blossoming in her cheeks, her voice trembles and she stumbles upon words but her thoughts coming out of her lips persistently, as if she has kept so much behind that she needs to get out now

“The way you look at me at times makes me feel like I can walk a little bit taller, head a little bit higher. I was trained to accept them… taking from me… as the only compliment… but with you…”

He can see the effort it’s taking for her eyes to raise again to look into his, the warmth emanating from her rosy skin just another herald of her determination despite the toll this seems to be taking on her

“I see something going on behind your eyes, I know you wouldn't do anything I did not ask you to, and that is more than I've ever been tamed to accept…”

*I want to kill everyone who ever laid a finger on you… my poor, sweet, precious love*

Her words seem to catch in her throat, she keeps taking breaths and then releasing them without words until finally the silence he holds for her seems to be enough for her to fill

“I have never been given the chance to… explore… I don’t know how to… ask… how I want… what I want… but I do know I want… you.”

He thought rushes of emotions were exclusive to the moments he could sink his fangs into her but he was sorely unprepared for… this. 

*Did I actually hear her say that she wants me?!?*

All of a sudden all his centuries of expertise and understanding as a consummate lover come rushing to the front of his mind to show their silver lining.

Because he cannot relinquish control, even to his own pleasure, but maybe the saving grace of two centuries going through the motions is that he can do this for her? With her…

“You have me my sweet… If I could show you how… would you want me to?”

It feels so bittersweet to think of centuries servicing others being what built his professional knowledge of physical pleasure. That might be where his teeth clenching comes from for a second, but what about hers? 

*Is that… fear??? Why?*

 It lasts until the moment she nods

“Please Astarion…. show me, and I’ll follow you”

[aesopsharpmybeloved]

Tess' Sharpuary - 20. Hogsmeade

It's the first day of school, and professor Sharp enjoys a few final hours of peace before starting the term off.

chapter specific tags: slice of life

relationships: aesop sharp & parry pippins, aesop sharp & matilda weasley

20. Hogsmeade (1k)

tw: nothing i think? drinking before noon? 😅

“Ah, professor Sharp! It has been a while, hasn’t it?” came Parry Pippin’s accented voice the moment the Hogwarts potions master entered the small shop. “Good day to you, Pippin,” the tall man replied, grimacing slightly as his leg gave a painful throb. He didn’t usually walk all the way here, and instead relied on correspondence and deliveries by owls. It wasn’t every day he felt up to the task of dragging his sorry leg all over to and through Hogsmeade, and when he did, it was more common for him to enjoy a drink or two in either The Three Broomsticks or Hog’s Head Inn, rather than peruse the shops from which he could simply order by mail.

Well, perhaps Honeydukes was an exception…

However, today was different. Yesterday’s events left Aesop Sharp incredibly confused and disturbed, and instead of using this morning to sleep in and relax before having to teach his first class of the term in the afternoon like he planned to, he set out to take a walk through Hogsmeade, clear his head, visit Pippin’s shop and such. Matilda, having heard his new plan, approached him just outside the Great Hall and pressed a couple of galleons into his hand.

“You know, I did ask for a raise, but I imagined the money would be transferred to my vault at Gringotts as always,” he said dryly. Matilda merely smiled: “Good to know you’re in the mood for jokes on the first day of school, I’m certain your students will appreciate it. Seeing as you’ll be going to Pippin’s anyway, perhaps you could deposit the money for our new Fifth year’s items. I managed to convince Phineas that the school should replace the items lost during the dragon attack.” 

Aesop whistled. It took a special kind of person to be able to talk Phineas Nigellus Black into dropping a few coins. Correction, it took a special kind of person to be able to talk the bugger into dropping a few coins for a Muggleborn… Maybe he should ask Matilda to also convince the Headmaster to finally replace that one potion station in his classroom. It was still working well enough, but Aesop knew that the heating was getting a bit uneven, which could soon become a problem for whatever unfortunate student was stationed there. But he digressed.

“Besides, while you’re there, you can also see whether there is something else the girl might find useful in her studies,” Matilda Weasley finished cheerfully. Aesop gave a little wince: “Liquid luck then, because the poor girl’s going to need a lot of it to be able to handle all of this... And I don’t think you gave me enough money for that.” The Deputy Headmistress clicked her tongue. “She seems a very sensible, clever young woman, I’m certain she’ll be alright,” said the astute woman, and pretty much shooed him off.

Matilda Weasley was a Gryffindor through and through, but she did have a few Slytherin traits.

Still, as he stood in the small shop, he had to admit this wasn’t the worst idea. He wanted to discuss a few things with the owner apart from the new student anyway. First things first, however.

“A girl will come to pick out these items, here is the money for it,” he limped over to the counter and placed the galleons upon it, along with a roll of parchment containing the list of items needed. Pippin gave him a curious look: “Surely I could have that sent to her? Who is this girl, anyway, to get such special treatment? You usually don’t even come all the way here for your own goods.” Aesop leaned against the counter to take some weight off his leg: “She’s only now starting Hogwarts - in her fifth year if you can believe it. She already had the things needed, but they got destroyed en route. Don’t ask, you wouldn’t believe me anyway…” Pippin unrolled the parchment, studying its contents.

“Simple enough, and I’ve got all of these in my stock.” Pippin walked further into his shop, presumably to begin gathering the recipes as well as a few ingredients to have them on hand for the girl to pick up later, while Aesop peered down on the parchment: “Actually, maybe the recipe for Edurus would be useful too. I’ll try her out in class. The coins should be able to still cover that.” 

While Pippin still busied himself with preparing the necessities, Aesop adjusted his position to be more comfortable: “Have we already discussed the potential healing and curse-binding powers of aconite?” 

They spent the following half an hour discussing the properties of various ingredients and their usefulness in a possible cure for his leg. “Whatever you do, don’t forget to inform me. I too am curious as to what you figure out,” Pippin finished. Aesop gave a wry grin: “But not enough to also try to make something new, hm?” “I think my father would rise from his grave and come to kill me if I blew up the shop,” was the older man’s only answer. 

And with that, Aesop bid his farewells and left the shop. The village was rather empty, which of course made sense - classes were in session, people were at work. The day was quite nice, the lingering warmth of the dying summer’s sun gently embraced his skin and the cool breeze blew through his hair.

He was happy nobody seemed to pay him any mind as he slowly dragged himself over to the Three Broomsticks – Sirona’s cooking wasn’t that of the house elves, but her company and conversation weren’t exactly a punishment. Besides, he might as well get himself a glass of Firewhisky, or a pint of ale to go with his meal and help him digest.

Happy with his little plan, Aesop smiled momentarily before entering the pub.

---

Thank you for reading! ❤

[AO3] - [Sharpuary 2024] - [Masterlist]

[averyauthorship]

Find the word tag game!

I've gone one of these before, but I think it's fun! Let's try to see if I can find these words in my current WIP (which I have temporarily and affectionately named "What's In A D8." Get it? D8 like the dice? Also sounds like "date." It's funny. (Since the perspective switches by chapter, I labeled which of the two main characters is speaking.)

The words I have to find are: torture, talking, time, teeth.

The words I will assign to others (I'm not tagging anyone specific, just do this if you feel like it!!): mumble, smooth, jump, lift

Torture (I did not have this one, so I went back and rewrote a sentence I already didn't love!)

(Sam) The crowded JFK International isn’t much better, but I manage. And I even get to my gate thirty minutes before boarding. Then, the second flight is smooth sailing. Except I’m sitting in front of a little terror of a child who keeps reaching through the seat to tug at my curls. I want nothing more than to whip around and scold him. Teach him the lesson that you don’t touch a Black girl’s hair—EVER—or any stranger’s hair, for the matter. But I can’t bring myself to do it. With everything else going on, and with my anxiety whipped up into a nice, frenzied froth, I just sit back and accept the small torture.

Talking (Common words are hard! Gotta choose carefully...)

(Link) She’s browsing the aisles of dice and paintable figurines. Sometimes, she buys a new playbook. More often, she just buys another pack of dice. She’s purchased at least eight sets since she first started shopping here. I’m pretty sure this is my sixth time seeing her. Maybe the seventh. Whenever I’m not working, I’m here, either helping Chris with unpaid labor, or else talking their ear off about work and games, so I’ve probably been here every time she’s come in. We’ve never talked.

Time (This word comes up a LOT. It's also in my last quote, but meh.)

(Sam) Rescued any princesses? I scream internally. I’m crunched into myself on the near-empty bus, my fingers digging into my forehead. Where’s the Master Sword? What is wrong with me? When I was in kindergarten, kids used to call me Sam-I-Am, like from Green Eggs and Ham, because that was the only other Sam they knew. I remember how annoying it was to hear the same joke every single time I introduced myself to a new friend. And I just turned around and said the exact thing that this “Link” has probably heard a million times and a half.

Teeth (I'm happy I actually had something for this one. I wasn't sure.)

(Sam) With her worries resolved, and mine solidified into a hard knot in my stomach, we return to our table. Link is still sitting there, sneaking a peek at my game binder. My mouth twitches into something like a smirk. I place my hand flat on top of the page he’s perusing. “Trying to gain an advantage?” Like any good GM, I keep my stories secret. Luckily, I didn’t put anything important on that page. It’s just character backstory stuff. Link jumps back with a start. He smiles up at me, no teeth, but a dimple presses into one of his cheeks, just above the line of his beard. “I promise I don’t cheat,” he assures me. “I’m just curious. You didn’t exactly tell me anything when you invited me to play.”

[sneakyboycream]

a short N-centric headcanon list for your perusal

Cyn raped him every night when they were kids. N tried to tell himself he hated it, but he still got dissappointed when she missed a night

V used him once as a prototype. she was so sweet before, he couldnt bring himself to stop her

when they got older, N needed to let out his pent up energy somehow now that Cyn was gone. he went for fresh-killed corpses. that's why his kill count is so bad, all his time hunting is spent fucking

he can't kill uzi. she means too much to him. but she's so hot, and he spends so much time fucking dead things, wouldnt she be so much cuter as one of those dead things? for him to use whenever he wants?

she ended up raping him when she first turned, just like V did. hes wanked to the memory more times than he can count

also, his dick is laughably small

he has pissed into more than one corpse (after feeding of course)

he whines and whimpers like a whore even when he's in control

he just can't help himself :( he's soooo sensitive :(

Good fucking food.

Youre the anon thats going to spread the freak N agenda and a i love you for It. Keep going 👌🔥

I will give you the ⭐ emoji tag

[majormeilani]

Heyy anon who was wondering if OC asks = requests; thank you for the answer! So, here are the asks, plus some ones for your AHIT OCs! Prepare yourself.

Sunshine: Ruben: You mentioned his mother got him a little motorized toy car. What kind of car is it? (Also has he ridden around in it with sunglasses on) Oliver: I saw a lot of flowers in his tag. Does he have a favourite one and what does it mean in floriography/language of flowers? Riley: What would Riley's dream tree house look like? Darby: What would Darby's ringtone be? (Also I saw those "oh there's a sad girl in my coffee" "that's you" posts and I am. Looking. With curious eyes.)

AHIT: Cassidy: Favourite scene to shoot? Wormie: Would Wormie have any typing quirks?

Thank you!

okay!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

ruben:

yes he does have a motorized toy car LMAOOO. it's one of those little 'jeep' style cars (though in story it's got a different name 'peep') and it's dark blue in color. he put dinosaur and star stickers on it and he uses a little cd player in it to play songs that his friend darby burned for him. it was also slightly modified by darby's uncle so that it goes a little faster and drives smoother than a normal one would! he has most definitely ridden around in it, blasting songs, with a cheap pair of sunglasses. he even invited one of his friends to ride around in it with him!

oliver:

those are one of his aesthetics that are assigned to his character! they were meant to be a kind of contrast to his 'tough guy' nature showing that there's a lot more to him than it seems. the flowers i put in his tag i'm not really sure of most of their flower symbolism but his favorite flowers are sunflowers. i always took them to mean optimism and positivity for him, something that he often attempts to exhibit but being the statue of wrath sometimes that can be hard. his boots also have roses embroidered onto them, and those are symbols of beauty and courage. there's kinda story symbolism with that.

riley:

riley would honestly love to have a treehouse! if she had anywhere to build one. but she would probably be the one to build it herself and she would want one big enough for her and her friends to hang out in. she knows how to build and design things so she'd have one with a wide floor and enough space for a little table and there would be a chalkboard for little club meetings up there. it would have a small cabin like structure with a door to a little balcony for overlooking and there would be a hatch with a ladder that you can throw down coming from it so that her and her friends could stay safe and keep out any intruders.

darby:

darby's ringtone for notifications would probably be one that's related to a popular in-story game that she likes, since sometimes she heads down to the arcade a few times throughout the story. her ringtone would probably be a skating related song, since that is her favorite past time and she would want to have a ringtone related to it. her phone is also a flip phone since sunshine takes place in 2003 and most phones were still the flip type, slider or the brick type back then.

cassidy:

his favorite types of scenes to film are the ones that follow a narrative, like exposition. but he also likes to film tense scenes that really draw a viewer in and climax scenes too. he likes to unease his audience and make them feel drawn in to the story before he shocks them with something. he also kind of enjoys doing slasher scenes but they tend to be kind of messy so he tries to keep those to a minimum.

wormie:

oh she most definitely would!!! she already kind of speaks in a rather quirky way and will pronounce emoticons out loud and tends to speak in 1337 speak or that old internet slang you use to see everywhere. you know the.... zomg!!!!!1 teh lolz!! xDDD kind of typing yeah that LMAOOOOOOO.

thank you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and thank you for your interest in my characters and perusing their tags to learn more about them !!! i honestly really appreciate it more than i can express with words. 💖 my ocs mean the absolute world to me and it really means a lot to hear someone liking them enough to wish to know more about them.

[imayanderesimp]

I posted 36 times in 2022

26 posts created (72%)

10 posts reblogged (28%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@endlessmyth

@blorb0

@sketchnwhatevr

@peantbutter-honeycombs

@wizardpotions

I tagged 18 of my posts in 2022

Only 50% of my posts had no tags

#yandere mha - 10 posts

#platonic yandere - 9 posts

#yandere endeavor - 7 posts

#yandere todoroki clan - 7 posts

#yandere dabi - 6 posts

#yandere rei - 6 posts

#yandere natsou - 6 posts

#yandere todoroki - 6 posts

#yandere fuyumi - 6 posts

#yandere shigaraki - 2 posts

Longest Tag: 115 characters

#you dont say slurs you dont make death threats/kys comments and you dont misgender should be the main three and yet

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

How to the platonic yanderes feel abt reader getting into 1-A? Do you think that they would be okay with reader perusing hero life?

thx for the ask anon

Platonic todoroki fam has a really negative reaction because they don’t want you to get hurt they do everything and anything in their power to male you have the worst time so you will drop out and when u say anything i mean anything

platonic erasermic are happy for you but also worried about you i mean with all the crap that 1-A already gone through they have a right to. So they’ll let you pursue your dreams but you can be enrolled in the support course instead.

Platonic league of villains is pissed of to the max i mean who said you could betray them like that! There’s no way you’re getting to be a hero because you’re gonna be locked in a basement for a few months for a stunt like this.

platonic bakugo fam is actually ok with this. I mean you always a deadkugo to protect to you so you’ll be fine.

platonic midorya fam is definitely not ok with this. I mean izuku’s mom might as well have a heart attack because after all izuku went through shes not going through it again so you can stay home or find a new job with her instead.

221 notes - Posted September 6, 2022

#4

Tw:dubcon Tw:past noncon tw:past abuse tw:enji being a asshole tw:somnophilia

reader is implied to be female

felt like i should clarify this bc it just hit me puppygirl!reader isn’t an actual dog or a beastars type situation she’s like a human but with puppy dog ears and a tail.

MINORS BEWARE

pls pls put your age in your bio so i can tell your not i minor because i will block you if i can’t find any proof your an adult

Just imagine endeavor with a small little puppy girl like he’s this big 6ft figure and then you’ve got a little 4ft puppy girl next to him. The public would be all over it trying to get pictures of puppy girl reader and endeavor together. Of course enji and puppy!girls relationship wasn’t always this way…

Pre redemption enji : he treated puppygirl!reader so badly. He’d yell at her and pull on her little dog ears sentence her to her cage. Honestly if enji was really being serious he just wanted to use you from breeding purposes. Sometimes puppy reader couldn’t keep up with enji half the time she would end up passing out during their sessions. But he keep going he wanted you to have a baby so bad, but it never worked. And endeavor could never figure out why, but all your puppy brain remember is getting a pill everyday from the white haired woman.

Soon enough enji forgot about you and only focused on train shoot and becoming number 1 dropping you in a little room that was kinda like a dog house. He forgot to feed you so his children and Rei would do it a lot soon enough it seemed only fuyumi and natsou would feed you and that was a rare chance.

Post redemption enji -

I’m the family dinner scene between endeavor and natsou he reminds him that he left you in a room alone for years now. And endeavor just sits they’re like “huh”because he forgot about you so natsou sitting there wants to slap his father in the face but just take ps a piece of paper and writes directions and says follow it.

Enji find the room and sees you. You look so tired like you haven’t seen the light of life in days. Enji tilts up your head and sees you look super sleepy but all you do in turn over and sleep. So he grabs you and takes you to his room you’ve been in that room for to long. In the morning enji finds it so cute when your pawing at his window at the sunlight your little tail wagging at the sight.

Enji had never seen you this happy before you just felt empty looked empty. So he decided to get a cute little dog bed for you in his office and leave you some nice food to make up for his past actions. He playing catch with you the other day of course you were catching the ball with your mouth. Wouldn’t you know in a few months you were the happiest dog alive in the household.

Now a certain time came along the enji wasn’t expecting. Fuyumi has told him you weren’t feeling well so enji went to check on you, only find that your humping the floor and all the pillows look soaked. Poor little puppy girl, just was so horny without him. You started pawing on his leg you craved him right now you needed him right now.

So now enji is here fucking your tight little cunt. You’ve gone for 3 organisms now and every time his cock gets deeper and deeper in your hole. You were drunk off his cock right now and if enji stops for a tiny break then you’ll do the job yourself.

So you continued for idk the rest of the night until you finally passed out

See the full post

237 notes - Posted April 17, 2022

#3

- Random things the platonic yandere erasermic fam has put up with -

(They adopted when you were a baby after your mother (who was Aizawa's coworker) “accidentally” died in a car crash)

Baby reader: multiple mustache and hair tugs on Aizawa's,hizashi’s, and (rarely) eri’s hair. You like to pull when you aren't just sleeping and eating this is why shinsou has his hair up all the time.

Baby reader: all you do is sleep and eat and occasionally scream into a very loud karaoke machine, you a very lazy baby who sees their in a playpen just looks at the gate pushes it open as then rolls out then falls asleep while escaping.

Baby reader: remember that karaoke machine? Yeah well you found it while escaping and somehow mustered up the energy and idc that you went down and found a karaoke machine. After two minutes of your parents and sibling crying over the fact that they lost you. then they hear a very loud and aggressive BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH come from the basement. Of course, they send Aizawa and he finds you screaming in the karaoke machine at the cat.

Baby reader: of course as a baby you go into a lot of accidents now when Aizawa told Hizashi not to worry about you when you come home with them they didn't expect you to be that troublesome. But for such a lazy baby you had no sense in what to do so you grabbed things pulled off the outlet covers pulled out the baby door looks opened all the cabinets and stuff you were too smart for them. Soon Aizawa let mic over baby proof the house and you were safe.

Baby reader: even though you are a danger your family loves and adores you and would never let you go. (that's why they have the baby leash)

238 notes - Posted February 10, 2022

#2

Let’s be honest did you really think I was done with the baby thing?

Todoroki Family

They love you but your just to dang rowdy sometimes

Listen you are the exact opposite of the baby mic and Aizawa your a little shit filled with rage. They cannot control you at all restrain you do anything you will run your way out of it.

The amount of times dabi has found holes in his shirts because they smell like him and he smells like bacon so you wanted to eat the shirt.

And of course you being the little fire hazard you are you would beg enji to light things on fire even going at it to purposely anger him just to see flames.

And of course the cons of being a very young arsonist is that you have a family with ice users in it to put out the fire. But that doesn’t mean you don’t beg shoto to make snow in the house just for you to throw snowballs at Dabi or try to make a snowman as big as enji.

But your least favorite part is when Rei comes around. Because that means your gonna have to get in actual clothes instead of running around in a diaper and one of dabi’s burnt hand me downs he gifted you for your birthday.m

But it’s all worth it at the end of the day to watch you sleeping so peacefully with your thumb in your mouth

Because it reminds them you’ll be theirs forever no matter what

Don’t mind me just clearing out my drafts

254 notes - Posted April 11, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

A reader who is terrifying and pops put of nowhere

Yandere todoroki fam-

You scare the shit out of dabi half the time just popping out of nowhere

One time you popped out of nowhere and scared dabi and he accidentally punched you in the face

Yeah your family has to get you bell after that but you still scared dabi

They probably think they’ve forgotten you at one on family trips and they turn around and see nothing turn back to the road to drive back and then look back again to see you in the backseat

“We left y/n at home!”

“Ah great 1hr into this drive and we forgot y/n”

“Turn around again to make sure their back there”

“I promise you their not back there”

“Hi mom hi dad”

Platonic yandere erasermic fam

This house is not safe for you

The amount of times you scare mic making him yell out loud and then him causing a hole in the roof is soon not gonna be enough with their teacher salary

So aizawa suggests putting a bell on you so every time you pop from nowhere you hear a little ring

Jokes on him because him and mic watched a scary movie ( they wouldn’t let you watch because they think your too innocent) and mic got scared again whenever he heard the bell

So aizawa just put tape over mics mouth

It worked because it was flex tape

But it almost ripped off mics mustache

426 notes - Posted January 2, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[generic-ghost-ghoul]

The whitewashing in TCW and TBB is absolutely a problem and should be discussed, but the ableism in those conversations being had is awful.

I’ve seen a lot of talk around Tech being “bad representation” as an “autisitc coded character”, but that talk almost never comes from autistic fans. I know I occupy a very small space on the internet and I’ve curated my dash pretty meticulously, but the overwhelming consensus I’ve seen regarding Tech from autistic fans (and those who are similarly neurodivergent) has been positive.

I’m not diagnosed (likely adhd), but I treat myself as neurodivergent and I identify very strongly with Tech, especially in regards to his info dumping and direct way of speaking. I’ve seen similar sentiments from others on this site who are autistic or have similar neurodivergencies.

You also see similar ableist comments and conversations surrounding Wrecker and Gregor, though for other reasons. Both have experienced traumatic brain injuries. Gregor survives a shuttle crash on Abafar that results in amnesia and then the explosion in trying to escape the same planet, while Wrecker has a large facial and cranial scar and we can infer TBI. But to see people talk about those characters, you see so much ableism stemming from not knowing or understanding symptoms of TBI (Gregor’s uncontrolled giggling comes to mind).

@/maiseey has talked about Gregor’s TBI more extensively and has the military medical experience to provide more authority on the subject than I ever could. Not actually tagging because she’s had a problem with harassment regarding TBI and Gregor in the past, but if you’re going to be a nice person and go look to educate yourself in this matter, I highly recommend perusing her blog. Plus she has some great art, fic, and references. Just overall a great blog.

Last night, I saw several examples of ableist comments with regards to Tech from people who posture themselves as activists — a problem that I’ve been bringing attention to for months. I tried to comment on this last night, but I was too tired and angry to be coherent, so I’m going to try again.

TW: there are screenshots (with the names and avatars blocked out) that show some pretty intense ableism and sanism below the cut. Scroll away if you are not in a good place to see this today.

Transcript: trch feels specifically like hed use the term aspbergers to descrive himself bc he doesnt want to be mistaken forvthose Other autistic people

Here we see someone making a “ha ha funny” joke about Tech being an Aspie Supremacist. Lateral ableism is a huge issue in our community that causes harm to a lot of autistics with higher support needs. Making this into a fandom joke is in poor taste. Additionally, Hans Asperger was a nazi who sent many disabled children to their deaths. This is not something to joke about.

Transcript: techs vibes are like sherlock bbc fused with sheldon from the bigbang and understand i sayvthat witj asvmuch derision as possiblr

If the first thing that you think about when you see an autistic character is Sheldon Cooper, then I don’t know what to tell you.

This is the worst one, though:

Transcript: Person A: every ten seconds of this show I think people who are horny for tech should be added to the dsm more and more. Person B: When an autistic person identifies with Tech as-is I’m like… okay I guess?

Implying that people who enjoy a character that you don’t are mentally ill and that this means that they have a character flaw is so head-tiltingly sanist I don’t even know where to start. Also, shitting on autistics because we like and relate to a character that you don’t approve of is paternalistic and nasty.

This kind of thing is why I have been speaking up about the ableism in the TBB fandom, particularly among people who claim to want to protect us from “bad representation”. If you know who these people are, don’t engage. I am not posting this to start a harassment campaign against them so much as bring attention to behavior that hurts me as an autistic fan.

This is so unbelievably upsetting to so many autistic fans and I feel like our voices are being drowned out and ignored by people who want to speak for us. I am tired.

[thebibliosphere]

Welcome to the blog of international bestselling author Joy Demorra, aka the Crucifix Nail Nipples Editor.

This is my personal blog where I commit word crimes.

If you're looking for my chronic illness and disability advocacy posts, or you want to block them (fair), the tag I use is #chronic health tag.

You can also peruse my FAQ.

My international bestselling debut romance novel, Hunger Pangs: True Love Bites (Phangs), is out now and available in eBook, Paperback, and Audio.

Set in a pseudo-regency meets fake-Victorian Gaslamp Fantasy world, complete with gothic castles, enchanted forests, and just a smidge of industrial coal dust. Phangs has been described as "like reading the queer, goth love child of Terry Pratchett meets Jane Austen," and no amount of marketing buzzwords I say can ever top that.

If any of that sparks your interest, you can:

Buy the (high heat) Flirting With Fangs Edition Here.

Buy the (medium heat) Fluff and Fangs Edition Here.

Why are there two versions and what's the difference between them? Glad you asked! You can also check out individual content tags and heat ratings on my website at www.joydemorra.com

If you've seen my dog, Holly Mop, trending around the place and would like to see more of her, her tag is #holly mop. You can also now follow her blog at @holly-mop; we just use it to upload pictures.

Other places you can find me online include: Ao3, Twitter , BlueSky Pillowfort, and Instagram. If you like what I do and would like to see more of it, you can support me on Patreon, Ko-Fi, Payhip, or through my Throne Wishlist.

You can also find me hanging around Twitch on Sundays, where I co-host @theayesphere podcast with @ayeforscotland and sometimes play games. Feel free to come hang out; we're always happy for new people to natter with.

If you've made it this far, thanks for reading and happy scrolling!

Additional image IDs under cut due to length.

First image ID: A picture of TV presenter John Oliver holding his arms wide with a sardonic expression saying, “Welcome to whatever this is…”

The image is surrounded by a gradient rainbow frame.

Second Image ID: A promo image showing the two different book covers for Hunger Pangs: True Love Bites side by side. One is blue, one is red. Both show three characters juxtaposed in a bisexual parody of the "distracted boyfriend" meme.

At the top, white text stands out against a purple/blue gradient. It reads: Hunger Pangs: True Love Bites, Book one of the Hunger Pangs Series.

Beneath that it lists qualities of the book: queer paranormal romance, vampire x werewolf, gaslamp fantasy, mutual pining (the love is requited, they're just idiots), slow burn and happily ever after, for now….

The bottom line of text reads: both medium and high heat versions available in eBook, Paperback and Audio.

The image is surrounded by a rainbow gradient frame.

Third Image ID: A small tan and white Shih Tzu with dark eyes looking directly into the camera with her tongue hanging out. She looks like a teddy bear.

The image is surrounded by a rainbow gradient frame.

[qierxing]

Any blog recommendations yandere x reader ?

POV you have activated my non stop talking NPC dialogue

Oh god I have so many people for you bestie —I rarely do get the chance to just gush sincerely.

Please check these wonderful people out and remember to read/heed any rules they have.

@galair - My bestie in the whole wide world, sexy painted fanarts and thotty excerpts galore (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ) Her artworks feel so buttery and smooth with her painted strokes and the colors is just off the charts. Composition for sexy tense scene? She gotchu — 10/10 would follow(And her commissions are open!!!).

@ddarker-dreams - A legend in the yandere Genshin community, her works are just phenomenal. I especially love how she does world building and context—I often easily lose attention with long subtext, but the way Lock does it is just artful in that it ends up being the beautiful ribbon that ties up the whole story. If you like a good balance of plot and yandere, she’s your author.

@yandere-daydreams - Love, love how they do prose. Don’t know how to explain it, but the way the sentences flow into each other…poetic cinema, if I dare say it(bestie please tell me how you manage to make your runon sentences super sexy). The way dialogue flows in their fics is just so natural and sometimes makes you laugh or gasp scandalously. You’d be hard pressed to find anyone else like them.

@saekogun - Known for their yandere Genshin college AU. I love how June sets up their world and how they explores their concepts—it’s almost you’re like a player in a game with how in-depth they go. Gave me so many brain worms about many fun different concepts of characters in different scenarios, it’s seriously impressive.

@stupid-sloot-headcanons - Amazing succinct and sweet excerpts/thoughts about many yandere stuff—perfect for a morning newspaper read. Will manage to get you horny within a couple sentences, mark my words.

@merakiui - Came for the yandere Genshin, stayed for the Azul thirst trap. No. 1 person to go to for Octavinelle brainrots (Need to get that Azul fix man). The way she writes visuals...beautiful. I swear I can see her words become actual pictures in my mind's eye.

@love-toxin - Has a good variety of fics on different media, from Eddie Munson(you’re almost getting me bestie)from Stranger Things to Leon Kennedy(every day I think about that fic. you know what I’m talking about) to SPIRIT HUNTER(i’m not normal about this media period. the second game is coming next year). Truly an eye opener for the things that I never knew i was into; thank you for your service.

@99-nct - Cha, my beloved <3 Their writing has grit and an edge that always makes you keep coming back for more. Want to feel your heart clench? No other author has got you covered like Cha.

@jackplushie - Recent follow for my TWST fixation, they have cool and unique AUs and prompts that I’ve enjoyed perusing.

@yandere-sins - So many good fics, truly keeping us all fed here. I can swear by their smuts, it's the hot shit of the century. Their Alien series is to DIE for, literally.

@yanmaresu - Thrilling yandere x reader art, need I say more? They also have great excerpts with their pieces.

@shiny-jr- Another one of my fav TWST blogs—they explore lots of prompts and what-ifs' in TWST world and it's always a treat to read due to how fleshed out it's written.

-

There’s probably plenty more that I can’t remember right now, but please do check my tags if you would like to see more people. I run a queue on various works that I’ve enjoyed reading immensely, and the authors of those works are sure to deserve a reblog and a follow!

Also small reminder that I see your replies and send much love, I just can’t reply cuz this is a side blog and I will die before revealing my main blog handle.

[crossroadsfossil]

A promise made

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia| Characters: Wc: 5,421 Prompt: : Dabi thinks he ‘owes’ Hawks for various things Hawks has done for him and the league. Hawks, thankfully, catches on to that. Tags: Dabi has had a hard life, This is entirely due to the discord prompting something angsty, referenced prior prostitution, prostitution reference, Non canon friendship between hawks and miruko

Ao3 link:

Summary: ...is a debt unpaid.

Here’s the thing: Hawks has not had a lot of experience with relationships. It comes with being a ranking hero; you don’t have time for such things. There’s less than a handful of people that he knows of who even try to have relationships. Only one of them is a morph like himself.

Despite his general inexperience, he knows the basics.

At least, he thought he knew the basics.

================================

Here’s the thing: Hawks has not had a lot of experience with relationships. It comes with being a ranking hero; you don’t have time for such things. There’s less than a handful of people that he knows of who even try to have relationships. Only one of them is a morph like himself.

Despite his general inexperience, he knows the basics.

At least, he thought he knew the basics.

He’s had a few dates here and there, he’s read articles and perused books. He’s spent a significant amount of time picking Rumi’s brain when she comes over for a ‘cheat day’ where they eat an unhealthy amount of fried foods and talk.

He may live vicariously through Rumi and her multitudes of relationships. This is probably why his idea of relationships tends to skew heavily towards over-the-top doting. It may also be due to the weird not-quite-animal instincts that ran close to the surface, the ones that Rumi shared with him.

Looking back on it now, he may not have reigned them in as well as he thought.

He let instincts that he usually squashed down seep through when he was with the league. They were so much louder when around them. It was either loosen his grip on them with the league or accidentally lose control of them somewhere else, like on patrol. His poor sidekicks already dealt with that more than they should.

Expressing them just a little kept them from screaming at him over everything he saw that demanded to be fixed. Last week Toga had made a comment about wanting a heating pad or a heated blanket, he couldn’t remember. Logically, he knew this was a jab at Dabi. He had denied her a hug or something earlier that day and she was doing everything in her power to annoy him. Logically, he knew this, and despite that knowledge, Hawks still got her a heated blanket. It had small penguins and seals on it.

He left it on her bed and waited in the common area, practically vibrating with glee when she found it, her squeals of delight ringing through the base. Dabi gave him a strange look, one that Hawks returned, daring the man to call him on it.

Hawks had gotten Toga the gift solely because some part of his brain listened to her and decided that if the ‘sibling-chick-baby-bird’ wanted a blanket, he could and should provide that for her. He definitely didn’t do it expecting Dabi to break into his apartment the following Monday and do all the laundry in his flat (and wasn’t that a mortifying experience? To arrive home and find out your home had not only been broken into, but the burglar hadn’t stolen anything except a can of coffee and done your laundry. Folded it, too).

Hawks couldn’t look Dabi in the eye for a week. He had touched, no, dealt with all of Hawks’ literal dirty laundry. Hawks didn’t know the last time he did laundry, which meant it was foul and ripe. He really understood the phrase ‘air your dirty laundry’ to the fullest figurative and literal meaning now.

Three days after finally being able to look Dabi in the face without immediately turning on his heel, he overheard Mister Compress bemoan the lack of sushi. He perked up and started talking to the man about food, delighted with the fact that Compress had a palate worth discussing. It didn’t help that he had been having fishing dreams for the past week. The sort of dreams where he would wake up, confused over having human feet and not the talons he had in his dreams and a deep craving for fresh fish.

He returned the following day with sushi for the group, with an emphasis on things Mister Compress mentioned enjoying and lots of raw fish for himself. He may have also brought some non-fish items for Dabi, because it was a nice thing to do and not related to any instincts whatsoever. Neither was the deep satisfaction at seeing Dabi actually finishing his meal.

The next night, he returned from his shift to find his apartment broken into again. None of his canned coffee was missing, and thankfully his laundry hamper wasn’t emptied. What he did find was bento in his fridge. Enough for several days.

They were delicious.

He picked up a game and third controller for Spinner and Shigaraki after hearing about their interest in it. The third controller was entirely for his benefit, as using the ‘when you die, I take over’ only works if the players actually die. Spinner and Shigaraki were good at video games, and he wanted to play for once, dammit. He didn’t have downtime for things like this and he was going to enjoy it when he could.

Dabi showed up at his apartment again. He found out Dabi had broken in again as he and Rumi entered the apartment. Rumi let out a low whistle and started teasing Hawks about acquiring a partner who couldn’t put up with his shit. Or had admitted defeat and hired a maid. Or partner in a sexy maid outfit.

She teased him about how red he had gotten all night, in between marveling how tidy his apartment was for once.

He kept track after that, followed their odd push and pull, the give and take to their not-quite friendship. He and Dabi didn’t quite mesh the same way Hawks was meshing with the rest of the league, so he was puzzled by Dabi’s actions. Hawks would do something nice, usually because it made one of the league happy or because his instincts were piping up again.

Without fail, Dabi would turn around and return a similar gesture. He wasn’t sure if they had an unspoken rule about this or if Dabi was just also trying to be nice? Was this how Hawks knew he was welcomed in the league? Or was it a sign he wasn’t? Dabi didn’t do such blatant favors for the other members of the league. Oh, he saw the small things Dabi did. The way he would sit with Twice, or the protein shakes he’d leave next to Shigaraki after the man finally passed out. The whetstone he dropped off to Spinner after he lost his. The odd vials of blood that he saw Dabi slipping to Toga.

It was different than what he and Dabi had, but he still found it stupidly endearing.

================================

Things turned strange once Hawks specifically started paying the same sort of attention to Dabi.

By strange, he meant that both his little bird brain was perking up and that Dabi was reacting oddly. His stupid bird brain he understood, even if it annoyed the hell out of him. It didn’t need to preen and figuratively dance around and fluff up nonexistent plumage. He most certainly wasn’t going to start singing. That would be humiliating; he was a hero, not a peacock. He trimmed his tail feathers for a reason, thank you.

He didn’t understand Dabi’s reaction though.

Any attempts to give little presents to the man would have them straight up rejected. Useful gifts would end up back in his bathroom (how Dabi kept breaking in was a mystery he didn’t quite want to investigate just yet, and wasn’t that concerning?)

Non-useful gifts were set afire in front of him. Food would be refused unless he disguised it as a league meal, and even then Dabi would usually break in to neaten his apartment. Hawks couldn’t tell if Dabi was trying to do him a favor or was trying to make a point that while Hawks could feed them poison or a sedative, Dabi knew where the hero lived, and had proven several times that he had no trouble getting into Hawks’ home. Either way, Hawks was not keen on having someone else rummage through his home. He liked his chaos, thank you.

So he decided to try another tack.

He tucked a replacement for Dabi’s old staple gun into his room, and over the next week restocked his stash of staples and other medical supplies. The next time he walked into the common area, Dabi stared at him. Hawks knew he was trying to figure it out.

Hawks usually took credit for the gifts he gave the others, mostly because he did actually enjoy being fawned over and more importantly, the hugs. Twice gave amazing hugs and he was going to milk all the hugs out of the man that he could. The fact that he wasn’t taking credit for Dabi’s new supplies was throwing the fire user for a loop.

Hawks continued with his stealthy gift-giving, from a special conditioner for dyed hair to soba noodles and green-tea mochi in the kitchen. He brought snacks from the Nakano station bakery, leaving them in the middle of the room. Ostensibly because he, Toga and Spinner had a love for their meat buns. Also because during a meeting that wasn’t at the base, Dabi had stared a little too long at their traditional sweets display.

He also stopped bringing food so much as he started bringing ingredients. He wasn’t cooking for them- he had tried once and Dabi had sent him a glare so seething he could almost feel his skin blister. No, he mostly spent his time in the kitchen playing sous chef to Toga, which was more fun than it ought to be, even with Dabi lurking nearby. Looking back on it now, he could see that he might have gone a little overboard with the nice ingredients.

Watching them try to survive on eggs, rice and pickles was just too horrible to tolerate, so he brought fresh vegetables. He brought meat and fish and fruit, keeping a close eye on what everyone preferred. He didn’t think it was too odd at the time. He knew one of his love languages was food. He did the same thing for Rumi and his sidekicks, surprising them with treats or their favorite during rough periods.

Dabi stopped breaking into his apartment, and it both delighted and annoyed him. Delighted, because maybe now he was properly part of the league, but annoyed because some dumb bird reason he wasn’t going to look at. He was not disappointed at all that bentos stopped.

Not at all.

Not even a little.

Buoyed by this change, Hawks decided he could try to do more.

He decided that he was going to tackle the problems at the base. The stairs into the house were rotted through, the rear of the house had a draft problem and there was a hole from one of the bedrooms in the upstairs to the bathroom. The rest of the league didn’t seem inclined to stop him when he started fixing up the house, most watching in amusement or occasionally assisting him.

They asked, of course, and he told a series of half-truths. It scratched that nest-building itch he refused to touch, mostly because he knew how he nested if there was nothing to fix. He would pile everything onto his bed. It was a disaster. He could never find any of his things and having everything buried just wasn’t worth the minor soothing of his instincts. The rest of his apartment could be a disaster. His room, and more importantly, his closet, would not be.

He also pointed out he got to actually use tools for the repairs, which was a novelty. He spent a good chunk of his childhood repairing the shack he lived in with reused nails and a rock.

================================

It was when he started making sure everyone was kitted out for winter that things started to change. Toga was easy enough; she was more than happy to go with Hawks in disguise and spend a weekend shopping. It also made shopping for the other members so much easier, with her simply winking at him and sipping from one of the small vials she had with her. Spinner got a new coat and stopped shivering and the only blue thing about Shigaraki was his hair, rather than his hands. Compress was given a striking new vest and slacks that weren’t stained with battle. Twice was wrapped in scarves and sweaters. It made something deep in the back of his head preen and coo with delight, seeing everyone warm and comfortable and able to relax in clean clothes.

Dabi’s reaction to his new winter wear was not what Hawks had anticipated. It wasn’t even that much if you compared it to the others. A few new soft cotton shirts to replace the blood-stained and hole-filled ones. A soft sweater in such a dark red it was almost black. It had looked and felt soft and warm and when Toga-as-Dabi tried it on to test the fit, she practically purred. Something had hooked into his brain and he desperately wanted to see the real Dabi do something similar.

It was the boots that caused the issues though. A pair of decent boots that wouldn’t fall apart in a year, that wouldn’t give him blisters. They were waterproof and supportive and edgy enough that even Dabi would like them.

It was the damn boots that got him into this trouble, with Hawks hiding in his bathroom with his back against the door. Staring down the opposite wall like it would open up and give him a convenient route of escape and trying to will a variety of things away, like his red face, surprise boner and a very comfortable looking Dabi reclining in his bed.

There was a thud against the door and the sound of Dabi sliding down it to sit on the other side.

“I know I’m hideous but that’s why the lights were off.”

“Okay, but why?” Hawks asked, although he was pretty sure it sounded more like a croak. There was another thud against the door, probably from Dabi’s head hitting it.

“Mostly to get it over with since you weren’t making a move. I don’t like owing people shit.”

Hawks’ brain functions skidded to a halt. He knew that at the beginning, they were sort of swapping favors. Hawks would do a thing, Dabi would do a thing. Sure, it fucked with the bird-like part of him, especially the meals (Hawks didn’t want to touch that with a four-meter pole), but it was give-and-take. Equal, right?.

“Last I checked, cleaning the disaster that is my kitchen counted as paying me back for things. I’m pretty sure that first time I should have owed you like, half a dozen favors.” Hawks deflected, hoping Dabi would take the out. He didn’t want to have this conversation, didn’t want to contemplate why Dabi had been in his bed, was implying repayment-

He groaned and dropped his face into his knees. This was fucked.

Dabi gave a dry laugh, the sound rough and bitter.

“Shit like what you were pulling isn’t traded for maid service.”

“How about bentos? If you feel like you owe me, can’t you keep doing that? I liked those.”

“Because you’re really going to keep doing stuff for the league for house-wife bentos?”

For some reason, his stupid bird-brain perked up at those words. To his utter mortification, he let out one of those trills he made. The ones that he couldn’t help when someone scratched under his scapulars in just the right spot.

Silence stretched between the two of them and the door.

“Did you just do the ‘Toga-fuck-off’ wing trill?”

Hawks groaned into his kneecaps again. Is that what the league thought that noise was? He was going to thank his lucky stars, spirits, and maybe the local kami. “It’s not a fuck off trill.”

There’s a pause before Dabi speaks again.

“Please tell me it’s not a ‘Toga-made-me-bird-horny’ trill?” Dabi said, sounding a cross between horrified, disgusted, and malevolently gleeful.

“No. Absolutely not.” Hawks protested, “The closest thing I can compare it to is a happy bird noise.”

“So… like when a cat purrs?”

Hawks didn’t reply. Dabi was silent long enough that Hawks rather hoped the man had either fallen asleep or stealthily gotten up and walked away. He was a breath away from uncurling and standing when Dabi let out a soft ‘huh’ from the other side of the door. Hawks froze where he crouched.

“That means… House-wifery gets the bird-purr. Good to know.” Dabi said. Hawks almost believed that Dabi would let this go. Instead, he could almost hear the sneer on Dabi’s face. “So, what. Should I put on a cute little kimono and greet you at the door like a good house-wife? Couldn’t you be a normal freak and be into maids?”

Hawks was done. He was so done with this misunderstanding. If Dabi wanted to talk, cool. They would talk. He stood, snagging his bathrobe off of a nearby hook and opened the door. Dabi hadn’t been expecting the door to open inwards. Hawks looked down only long enough to see Dabi fall onto his back before he dropped the robe and stepped over the fire-user’s body.

“Put the robe on before you join me. I’ll be on the couch when you want to talk.” Hawks headed towards the living room, muttering under his breath about why people kept thinking he’d be into maids. First Rumi, now Dabi. Did he project a weird fetish aura or had he missed a social cue somewhere?

He didn’t have to wait on the couch very long, just long enough for his leg to start bouncing and just long enough for him to focus on where he left his mug that morning. Or where his mug should have been. The only thing that remained was a ring on the table.

For the second time that night, his bird-brain perked up and trilled at this, at the sight that the nest was clean. He wanted to punch that part of his brain because it wasn’t his mate’s responsibility to clean up his nest an-

Oh.

Oh no.

Before Hawks could spiral into a cacophony of repeated variations of the word ‘no’, Dabi sat down on the couch next to him, and he didn’t sit so much as drop heavily into the seat, popping his leg up on the cushions so that it bridged the gap between them. Hawks glanced at Dabi. He was wearing Hawk’s favorite robe, the one Rumi said looked like a pinata had melted onto fluff. He internally trilled at the sight before squashing it down and not looking at the bare leg Dabi had draped over the cushions, nor at the way Dabi’s lithe muscles and sweeping scars drew the eye up the leg.

“What are you, a virgin?” Dabi goaded, poking Hawks’ thigh with his foot. Hawks rolled his eyes.

“No, but I’m also not the creep you apparently think I am.” Dabi nudged him with his foot and Hawks, fed up with everything, swatted at it. Instead of drawing away, Dabi kicked him. Hard.

Hawks yelped and glared at Dabi, scowling as he received a smug grin in reply.

“Fucking finally. What do you want then?”

If Hawks were being honest, he would have told Dabi that what he wanted was for the man sitting on his couch in his robe to be happy. Preferably in his bed, both for sleep and sex and cuddles. Maybe even in the bathtub for the sappy couple things he read about in romance novels and movie love stories. He wanted to be on the same page as the trilling part of himself that delighted in showing off for Dabi and sneaking him gifts and a thousand other things. And every single one of those thousand other things, all of it, was off the table for the foreseeable future.

“I don’t want anything. Go home. You don’t owe me shit and shouldn’t feel like you owe me.”

“People don’t do nice things for nothing.” It was said so easily, so matter of fact. Dabi said it like that was the indisputable rule of the world… and maybe it was where Dabi lived.

Hawks hated it.

Hated whatever it was that led Dabi to believe this. Did the others think that was what this was? That his fussing and doting was solely to… what? Were they just making the best of an assumed bad situation?

“Maybe it’s because I’m selfish.”

“What, you have a sugar daddy kink?” Dabi drawled, his tone dripping with scorn and skepticism and mockery. Mockery over the fact that maybe, just maybe, Hawks liked helping people. That he wasn’t in it for any gain, any debts from another.

“Fuck. No. I don’t have a damn kink. Did you ever consider that maybe I was doing it because I liked to? That I do it because it keeps the voice in my head quiet?” Hawks snarled, delighting in the startled look of surprise on Dabi’s face. It was quickly replaced by one of anger, but even that was better than the business-like smarm of his prior expression.

“Maybe I like having control over the instinctual voice that screams at me to preen and chirp, the one that wants me to sing and court and hunt! I doubt you understand because you’re about as baseline human as they get. I suck at dancing and let me tell you, trying to hunt for fish as my instincts want me to is a little difficult with human feet. Not to mention feathers take forever to dry and did you ever consider that, excluding the morph bullshit, I might just want to take time to be a normal twenty-three-year-old and play video games and give presents to friends? Did it?”

Hawks had gotten to his feet at some point during his rant, looming over Dabi. Dabi who was slouching into the couch, eyes watching him as intently as any predator would Or prey, judging by how his eyes kept flicking to the door. Calculating an escape route. Eyes that snapped to him as Hawks shifted his weight back.

He let out a muffled shriek, the one that Rumi said resembled one of the raptor calls she’d heard at a sanctuary once. He turned on his heel and headed towards the kitchen. He didn’t know what to do to fix this, running his hands through his hair, not quite stress-preening, but close enough.

“Do you want pizza? I want pizza.” Hawks shouted as he escaped into the kitchen. He hoped that Dabi stayed put, that he didn’t follow Hawks.

He yanked open the freezer door, hand shooting up to keep another box of frozen dinners from sliding out. He lost himself in the methodical nature of preparing; preheating his small counter oven and moving the pizza from the box to a small sheet to the rack of the oven and setting a timer.

He hadn’t heard Dabi get up to follow him, and now that he was done, the majority of the irritated fuzz that had been bussing in his veins had vanished. He probably needed to go back in there. They still had some time before the pizza finished cooking.

He peered around the wall between the kitchen and the living room. Dabi was still lounging on the couch, still in nothing but the robe he lazily threw on, the belt not even properly tied.

Dabi felt Hawks’ eyes on him, looking up at the hero. He quirked a brow, one of his shit-eating grins on his face.

“So… what was that about courting?”

Hawks wanted to scream again. Instead, he decided discretion was the better part of valor and that a temporary retreat was a better plan than screaming. If anything, it would keep his downstairs neighbors from sliding annoyed notes under his door again. He stayed in the kitchen, staring at the rack of clean, dried dishes until the timer for the pizza rang.

When he returned to the living room, a plate of pizza in each hand, Dabi had shifted to sitting like a normal person, although his feet were still kicked up on the low table in front of him and he had somehow obtained the television remote. A magical girl cartoon was playing, although there were a lot more swords and spaceships than he remembered magical girls using. Hawks handed one plate to Dabi. He had split the pizza between the plates, and if one plate had an additional slice and if he handed that plate to Dabi, that was his poorly kept secret and maybe Dabi wouldn’t notice.

Judging by the dry amusement written over Dabi’s face as he took the plate from Hawks, Hawks was not as subtle as he had hoped. He, thankfully, didn’t say anything as Hawks tore into his pizza. Dabi ate his at a slower pace, one of the first times Dabi had accepted and then eaten something Hawks had provided. It sent a pleasant warble through his goddamn bird brain because today was the day he apparently let it run rampant through his life. In his defense, he was too tired to fight it at this point. He had one horrifying realization followed by a world-shaking one followed by several aftershocks that had drained him of any bandwidth necessary to process anything else.

“So… courting?” Dabi prompted when Hawks put down his plate. Hawks shot him a dead-eyed look. Dabi’s grin grew. Hawks was learning he hated seeing that smile as much as he enjoyed it.

“Apparently! It’s news to me!” Hawks said, throwing up his hands in exasperation. At that, Dabi began to laugh. Honest to got laughing.

Hawks stared.

What was so funny? Was this funny? Was he… the source of amusement? Did he find Hawks’ newly discovered affection for him hilarious? Was Hawks and his emotions really that much of a joke?

Something shriveled in his chest as he recoiled from the thought. He didn’t like it, but he understood it. People wanted things from a significant other and some of those things Hawks wasn’t and couldn’t ever be. It still stung, sort of like leaving his heart on top of a fire ant nest.

“One of the league?” Dabi wheezed, bent over his knees as he slowly stopped laughing. “You really have shit taste birdie. So. Who is it?”

Hawks gawked, baffled by the obliviousness. Before today, he’d attributed Dabi with a little more interpersonal prowess than the commission seemed inclined to award him. Now he was thinking the C-ranking in intelligence wasn’t too far off.

Dabi’s expression grew irritated the longer Hawks gawked at him.

“What, afraid I’ll tell your little crush that you had me naked in your bed or something?”

Hawks sighed and tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling and wondering if launching himself out the window might end this entire conversation and situation.

“Dabi. Who do you think it is?” Dabi opened his mouth, and Hawks suddenly thought better of giving Dabi that opening. “If you say Toga, I will return to the bathroom and become violently ill.”

Dabi closed his mouth, lips pursed as he thought. An idea struck and he grinned.

“It’s not Twice.” Hawks cut him off. Dabi’s face fell again. This was the most twisted version of a sleepover game ever.

Before he could think better of it, Hawks leaned over, invading Dabi’s space. He pressed their foreheads together, letting out an unintentional warble before quickly backing off and gathering the plates.

He spent the next ten minutes loudly washing the plates and pan and dragging it out as long as humanely possible if only to give him time to will the heat from his face and give Dabi time to flee. If Dabi didn’t leave, then maybe he would be able to slip past him and throw himself out of the balcony window. Rumi always said he was welcome to crash at her house. Maybe he could stay there until Dabi got bored of his apartment.

No, she’d ask why he wanted to stay with her all of a sudden. He couldn’t very well tell her a villain he just realized he fancied had taken up residence in his apartment. That would end as well as the rest of tonight had been going.

He braced himself against the sink. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do now. He had a mission but that could be easily dealt with. Just tell them Dabi refused to let him join. Give them what info he had and then let them figure out another way to deal with the league. Hell, that would actually give him a clean-ish way of separating himself without anyone getting hurt. The league would assume he and Dabi had a snit and… well no they might actually come after him for vengeance. Fuck.

There was a knock on the wall of the kitchen, interrupting his spiraling thoughts. As he turned, he caught sight of Dabi leaning against the threshold of the kitchen. He was no longer dressed in the robe, having changed back to his usual white shirt and dark pants. He didn’t see Dabi’s coat anywhere. Had he worn it over? Or did he use that disguise he was partial to?

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” Dabi said, not really asking a question but Hawks still nodded in response. He avoided looking at Dabi, staring at the ground and at Dabi’s bare feet. He shouldn’t have gotten those stupid fancy boots. Maybe then this wouldn’t have happened and he could have remained ignorant and it wouldn’t feel like something was squirming painfully in his ribcage.

He tensed, waiting for the mockery to come. Or for the ground to swallow him up, whichever occurred first.

“Why?” Dabi asked softly, like he wasn’t prying for things to use in his mockery. Look at Hawks, he’s so desperate he falls for the first moderately attractive villain he gets to know.

“Why does anyone like someone?” Hawks hedged, wincing at the snort Dabi responded with.

“A lot of people like what the other can provide.”

“Oh…” Hawks faltered, slipping his hands in his pockets and eyeing the space between Dabi and the door. Dabi followed his gaze and lifted a leg, bracing it against the other side of the archway, barring the way.

“Nope. We’re talking. Use your words, birdie. You’re usually good with those.”

Hawks smile wryly. “Not around you apparently. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

“Humor me and try.”

“I don’t know. You’re an asshole with ambition. Apparently, I like that in people.” It explained why his only close friend was Rumi, and why he admired Endeavor so much. Huge dicks. Large ambition.

“And you’re not interested in someone depending on you?” Dabi said. Unlike before, he seemed less angry, a little more amused and mostly trying to understand. Which, improvement was good? Maybe he wouldn’t end up set on fire.

“Dabi, my day job is being a hero. I get my fill of that. I would love a partner I wouldn’t need to worry about.”

“You don’t worry about me?” Dabi teased, and Hawks shook his head, laughing.

“I worry about the damage you cause and occasionally you riling up the rest of the league. Do you want me to worry about you? I can start. Nag you like I do Toga. ‘Toga why are you shivering where is your coat’ and ‘Toga please bandage that cut - infections are not fun’ and ‘Toga, have you considered going to bed-’?”

“Stop, stop.” Dabi interrupted, amusement bright in his tone. “No. Absolutely not. Aim that at Shigaraki. I get enough of that from the others. What else do you like about me?”

“Sounds like you’re fishing for compliments.”

“Or insults. For all I know, you’re attracted to the shiny shit in my face.”

“Well, piercings are attractive.” Hawks joked, delighting in the way Dabi’s face contorted. “And now that your ego’s been sufficiently stroked, can we forget this happened? Maybe let me out of the kitchen so I can escape to my office and hide until you leave?”

“No.” Dabi stated, although he dropped his leg. Hawks took the opportunity to try and slip past, freezing as Dabi snagged his wrist. His grip was loose, but firm. “Sleeping with you would not have been as big an imposition as others.”

“That…” Hawks’ face twisted in disgust, “That does not make me feel better.”

“I”m trying to say you’re welcome to continue your bower-bird rituals. I like barbeque and tempura.”

Hawks… Hawks could work with that.

[tomtenadia]

A Little Braver - 20

Even if I had a crazy day at work I did manage to do my Monday post as promise... but if you notice typos...I am sorry. I read it and edited but my brain  left with the boat tonight (I work for a ferry company, hence the joke)

This is the first of a few chapters where our bird boy is away and Hamel is causing problems to our gang.

Also, Aelin tries to cook... well... you can imagine how did that go.

--------------------

After the trip to the base Aelin had taken home a very sad Elide and then got back to her own place and cried herself to sleep while hugging Rowan’s pillow. It was very late in the afternoon and it was her day off and she had no intention of leaving her bed.

Her head was buried under the pillow when she heard her phone buzz so she scrambled to get it and her heart raced when she saw it was Rowan.

“Hi,” she said with a croaked vice.

“Are you okay?” Rowan was already in fussing mode.

“Yes I just woke up.” She heard a lot of background noise “where are you?”

“Vulture’s row.” He activated his camera and showed Aelin the view of a fully functional flight deck. “Uh, wait.” He pointed the camera stern of the ship and showed Aelin a jet landing.

“That was so cool.” He turned the camera to him and she saw him with his sunglasses and his hair messed up by the wind. Then he switched off the camera and they went back to normal.

“Are you there yet?”

“We are skirting around. We still have a few hours before we are fully in enemy territory.”

Then Aelin heard a siren of some sort and Rowan swore “I’ll call you as soon as I can again. I need to scramble. Love you.”

“Be safe.” She managed to add before he closed the phone call.

She collapsed again in bed then decided to call Lysandra and Elide and organise a day out the three of them shopping. Elide needed cheering up as well.

The next day Aelin, Elide and Lysandra had decided to have a girls’ afternoon to cheer up the two ladies who had their boys away. They met at the entrance of the shopping centre and Aelin went to hug Elide first of all “how are you doing?”

“Lorcan gave me a brief call yesterday telling me they were on the ship and on their way, then he had to go.”

Aelin sighed “today we don’t think about our far away boys.”

“And maybe you can buy some very sexy lingerie as a present for when Lorcan comes back.” Commented Lysandra and Elide blushed.

“What’s the point?” Asked Elide “you are taking it off anyway.”

Aelin laughed and took Elide’s hand “remember the dress I had at the navy party?”

Elide nodded “it was stunning.”

“I was not wearing anything underneath. It drove Rowan crazy.”

“I have done it a few times with Aedion and I agree with Aelin. The sex afterward has been amazing.”

“How do I learn all these things?”

“Stick with us and we will teach you.”

“Let’s go for some food,” said Aelin, “I haven’t eaten yet.”

“How will you survive now without your sexy chef in the house?” Asked Lysandra.

“Oh, I’ll just go back to my usual order in and ready meals.” Shrugged Aelin who had no intention of even trying to cook anything.

Lysandra took Aelin’s hand and walked toward a restaurant “come on Elide, let’s get this girl properly fed.”

The three women got into the restaurant and sat down and Aelin started perusing the menu eager for some decent food and not long after they placed their order. Lys was right, without Rowan she would be lost when it came to food. Rowan had properly spoiled her.

“How are the wedding preparations going?” Asked Aelin.

Lysandra and Aedion’s wedding was not far away and she was excited to see her best friend finally having her happy ending.

“We are getting there.”

“Do you have a dress yet?” Asked Elide all excited.

Lysandra took out her phone and showed them her dress.

“That is gorgeous. Aedion will not be able to keep his eyes off you during the ceremony.”

“That is the plan.” Lysandra smiled wickedly “but the biggest question is who is going to be next?”

“My money is on Aelin,” chimed Elide “Lor is not emotionally ready for such a step. You and the captain on the other hand…” her eyebrows flicked in amusement.

“She is right, and the two of you basically live together.”

“Yes and no.”

“What do you mean?” Lysandra was confused by the admission.

“We haven’t covered the subject yet. He still has his flat and some of his stuff there. Even after I recovered he never left and I never pushed because I like having him around.”

“Will you ask him to move in officially?”

Aelin sighed “maybe. When he comes back. I don’t know. Things are going well and I don’t want to mess it up.”

“Do you think he’ll say no?” Asked Lysandra. Brainstorming with her friend was always helpful and recently she hadn’t done it enough.

“I don’t think so. But living together is as far as we can go just now. For many, many reasons.”

“Is it because of Sam?”

“Only partially.” She was not going to tell her friends Rowan’s story. She had no right. So she remained vague hoping the two friends would get the hint and not ask anymore questions.

“Still, my money is on you two.” Added Lys “Elide is right, Lorcan does not seem to have yet the emotional ability to commit.”

“Hey, he kissed her in public. And yesterday at the base he seemed quite nice to her.”

“Quite?”

“I don’t know, I was concentrating on Rowan I just cast a brief glance at them.” Replied Aelin.

“He was super kind.” Added Elide taking biting on a breadstick.

Their food finally arrived and Aelin was the first to tuck in.

“Does the captain know about your crazy eating habits?” Asked Lysandra amused.

“Yes,” replied Aelin, enjoying her food “he calls me his bottomless pit. When we had our first date he joked that he might need a mortgage just to feed me.”

Elide laughed “Sam used to joke and say that he needed a second job just for feeding you.”

“I move a lot,” replied Aelin with a grin “I have a big appetite.”

“I think it must be a firefighter thing. Aedion is the same.” Lysandra grinned “and we burn a lot of calories.”

“Eeewwww, I did not need to know that. He is my cousin.”

“Oh come one, as if you and hot captain do not engage in illicit activities. The whole squad guessed that the other night you two had sex in the shower after the call at the club.”

“I was just giving him a special goodbye.” Her hand gently brushed the spot where she could feel his tags. She did a bit of research and she was happy she had a copy. Having the real one meant he was gone and she could not think about that.

“Are you okay?” Asked Lysandra worried at her sudden change of expression.

“Yeah.” She added flatly, then gave them a big smile. It was their day off she should not spoil it.

“So, are we taking Elide lingerie shopping?” Aelin teased trying to raise the spirits of her friend.

“Yes, it’s going to be fun.” Added Lysandra all excited.

“Girls… there is really no need. What I have is okay. Lorcan is not fussed.”

Aelin took a bite of her food “oh but we will make sure he is fussed and also that he knows how sexy you are so he does not decide to…. wander.”

“How do I keep him? I am nowhere near as interesting as the two of you. He might get bored of me very soon.”

Aelin stared at her friend and it broke her heart that her horrible past left her with no confidence at all. Elide was brilliant at her job and she was an intelligent woman and she was positive she would make quite a few heads turn.

“Don’t you say something like that ever again.” Lysandra preceded her. She was even more protective of Elide than her “I work with you everyday and I know how awesome you are and I am positive that if we go to a club you’d have your share of men looking at you.”

Aelin nodded.

They finished their meal and went back wandering around the shopping centre and visited a few shops. In one of them Aelin wandered in the male department and spotted a couple of lovely jumpers. One of them was a deep green and looked very cozy and she realised she had no idea of when it was Rowan’s birthday.

Silly question, you never told me your birthday. She sent the text and knew a reply might take a long time to come. She grabbed the jumper and tried to decide whether it was the right size for him.

“That is a lovely jumper.” Said Lysandra joining her at her side “already thinking about useful presents? You are like an old married couple.”

Aelin laughed.

“But I think this one is really nice and the man seems to look amazing in green.”

“I am just wondering about the size.”

Lysandra grabbed the tag “this one will fit Aedion so you should be fine.”

A moment later Elide rejoined them, her face beetroot red “I feel so silly.” And showed the girls her bag with her lingerie purchase.

“Hey, Ace and I are joking. You didn’t have to buy it if it makes uncomfortable.” But Elide surprised them “I will buy just one pair for now and I’ll see how it goes.”

Lysandra laughed “Aelin is already buying presents married couple style and you are still in the sexy lingerie stage. My girls have grow up so much.”

“And what stage are you and Aedion?” Asked Aelin with a grin.

“The one where I go to the grocery store and I phone him to ask him if he wants beef or chicken for dinner.”

The rest of the afternoon went swimmingly and she loved spending the day with Lys and Elide. They didn’t do that nearly enough.

Now she was back home and in the kitchen trying to accomplish her new mission. She had bought a cooking book for beginners and she had decided she was going to try and cook dinner. Lysandra had told her to start with something as simple as a stir fry. So she had bought a few more kitchen supplies and a pan Lys had told her was called a wok. She had mused why she could not use the pot she already had and Lys had rolled her eyes. Aelin had also bought the ingredients and now they were all lined up in front of her, the book open and a fire blanket and a small fire extinguisher on the counter just to be safe it was her cooking after all. She took a photo and sent it to Rowan then started working. When it got to cut the onions she cursed herself for deciding to cook.

Her phone rang and put it on speaker “hey,” her voice sounded strained and Rowan went in full fussing mode “are you okay?”

“Yeah, cutting those blasted onions.” She sniffled.

Over the line she heard Rowan roar with laughter “what are you making?” He asked as soon as he stopped laughing.

“A chicken stir fry. Lys said it’s easy to do.”

“Why are you putting onions in it?”

“Because I like them, mr I know how to cook.”

“I even bought a wok. Apparently I cannot use my pot.” She added as while throwing the ingredients in the pan.

“Seriously, when I get back we are going to have a massive overhaul of your kitchen.”

And Aelin’s heart raced in joy. It sounded like he had no intention of going back permanently to his flat. Maybe when he got back she should ask him the question after all.

“Aelin, it’s a miracle you have cutlery and two plates.” She could hear the humour in his voice.

“How are things going?”

“I just came off patrol. I am on my way to my quarters to get changed. I don’t have the most appealing scent just now.”

“Shower without me, so what? Two minutes max?”

“That’s about it. The water supply is not endless.”

He finally got to his quarters and collapsed on his bed after removing his boots then lay down and activated the camera.

“Hi sexy,” she did the same and placed the phone against the wall in front of her so he could see her as well.

“I don’t see any smoke. That’s a good start, considering it’s you.”

Aelin gave him the middle finger and then showed him her small fire extinguisher “I am prepared.” She took a bit of her food “for now it tastes edible, but not as good as yours.”

She saw him give her a smug smile and her instinct was to wipe it off his face with a kiss.

“The answer is July 16th, by the way.”

Aelin looked at him not understanding his statement.

“My birthday? You asked me earlier on.”

That she did “That’s two months away.”

“And when it’s yours?”

“May 3rd.”

“Aelin, that’s in two days.” He added sadly “and it sucks I can’t be there.”

“Lys has planned to drag me out with the girls of the firehouse. It’s also her bachelorette party. I have to go.”

“I almost forgot they were getting married. That came around quickly.”

Aelin laughed “not when you have been around them for years.” Aelin placed her food in a plate and moved to the sofa, taking her phone with her.

“When is the wedding?”

“This weekend. The weather is meant to be gorgeous which is a good thing since they are getting married outdoors.”

She heard him sigh “I really, really wish I could be there with you.”

She did not add that she had been thinking the same. So she just took a bite of her food.

“Edible?”

“Fuck no,”Aelin spit the morsel back in the plate “I must have done something wrong with the spices. It tastes horrible.” She grabbed her house phone.

“What are you doing?”

“Clearly ordering in. I am not eating this.”

Rowan rolled his eyes “you should practice more.”

“Why bother? I am clearly not cut for cooking. I am hopeless.”

“Do I need to tell you the amount of times my food sucked when I was still learning to cook decently? I got better with trial and error.”

Aelin huffed “fine I’ll try again on my next day off.” Then she put her house phone down after placing the order “I thought you were going for a shower?”

“Eager to get rid of me?”

“No, I just was hoping to have a peek at that nice arse of yours.”

Rowan laughed “If you behave.”

“Do you have the quarters all for yourself?”

Rowan nodded in the screen “the perks of rank. Gav is sharing with Vaughan. The twins are on their own.”

“Is that wise?”

“This carrier has a nice number of female officers. No one wants to go anywhere near that room.”

“Remember I am jealous, Whitethorn.”

“Some of them are middies on their snot cruise, so very young. The others… still not interested.”

“Who is a middie?”

“It’s short for midshipman or woman. They are the lowest ranking officers in the navy, just above the cadets. And a snot cruise is their first time out at sea on a proper mission.”

“Are your students middies as well?” She loved asking all those questions that might have sounded silly to him, but he never made her feel stupid for asking. He was always happy to answer.

“No, my students are called pilot officers. Then they become Flying officers, then flight lieutenants which is what the twins are, then Vaughan is our squadron leader, Gav is the Wing commander and then you have me.”

“Sounds so complicated.” She definitely needed to do more research to understand his job a bit better.

“It’s like you guys. Aedion looks after one rig as a lieutenant, you are the captain and are in charge of the operations of both at the same time and Dorian will be in charge of all the engines in case multiples houses are involved. Am I correct?”

Aelin nodded impressed.

“Same for us. Vaughan looks after our small squadron, Gav two or three squadrons, which is called a wing. I look after a unit composed of different wings and then Lorcan plays god in the CIC.”

“Now it makes more sense. So I could be your wing commander.”

“Having you fly with us would be insane. We would not concentrate on the enemy.”

Aelin laughed, then the buzzer of the door went off “just a sec, buzzard, food is here.” She went to get her food and plopped back on the sofa resuming her call with Rowan.

“Is your ship nice?”

“I served on her before. Not as swanky as the new one, but she is decent enough.” Rowan sat back up “hey, I really need to take that shower and then it’s chow time. If I miss it I don’t eat until tomorrow morning.”

“Go. Sorry for keeping you.”

“You did not such things. I have been looking forward to call you.”

“I love you.” She told him, sending back the tears that had started forming.

“I love you too, Fireheart.”

Aelin waved him goodbye and went back eating while tears had begun flowing down her cheeks. It had only been two days and she hoped it would get easier being so far apart.

***

The next morning she arrived at the station bright and early, got changed and went straight to Aedion “Are you ready?”

The man nodded “Peter is covering you until we get back from the police and I got Manon in charge of the second rig.”

“Good. Let’s go.”

They arrived at the police headquarters not long after and Chaol met them at the reception area “Hi guys,”

“Here’s my favourite cop.” Aelin went to hug Chaol.

“Just because I keep reporters away from you.”

She gave him a huge smile back.

“Come, detective Ytger is waiting for you.” They followed behind him in silence and stopped in front of a door and knocked.

A female voice told them to go in and once in the office Aelin recognised the same woman at one of the arson cases a few months back.

“Captain, Lieutenant, we meet again.” The three shook hands and the detective sat back down and invited both cousins to do the same.

The detective threw a thick file on the desk “you two have just made a very powerful enemy.”

“The man is a bastard.”

“Believe me, captain, when I tell you that Hamel has been a thorn in my side for a very long time.”

“And why is he still at large? Two people died and the man did not care.”

The woman pinched the bridge of her nose “he has very powerful lawyers and always gets away with murder. We have been working on him for a long time but whatever piece of proof we bring in is never enough to get him behind bars for good.” Aelin could sense the tiredness in her voice.

“Did you close his club as I asked?”

“We did, but he owns almost all the ones in Orynth. And so much more.”

“Can’t you arrest him for murder?” voiced Aedion.

“No, his lawyers showed us the papers of the latest inspections and the place was deemed to code. He blamed the company that did the inspections for lying to him.”

“Detective, I hope you are aware that is a bullshit.” Said Aedion, fury burning under his surface.

“I am well aware.” The woman added almost apologetically “the closure is temporary. It will not stick too long.”

Aelin almost swore “Have the other clubs been checked?”

“We did some undercover recon but we don’t have the full skillset to know what’s up to code.”

Aelin smiled wickedly “well, it’s a good thing that you have a firefighter whose birthday is very soon and was planning to go to a club.”

“You are not dragging Lys and the others in this.”

“Calm down. Hamel does not know them, they are safe. I will wear a disguise.”

“I don’t like the sound of this.” He protested again but he knew Aelin could be stubborn.

“I am coming too.”

“No,” said Aelin “One: Hamel remembers how you lifted him up and he will not forget such act. Two: it’s Lys bachelorette party as well. So, no.” she paused “you can take the guys to another one.”

“What happens if we find both clubs not up to specs?” Asked Aelin worried that it was going to be a lost cause.

“We can start by closing them and gather a bit more time to have more material against him. We have other leads. We just need something significant.”

They discussed with the detective which clubs to hit and they left.

Once in the car Aedion made his displeasure quite clear “I do not like this.”

“Neither do I, but the police has no idea what to look for.” Replied Aelin.

“We are not cops.”

“And they are not firefighters.”

After that they drove in silence all the way back to the station.

***

Two days had passed and Aelin’s birthday had arrived. She arrived at the station and laughed at the scene. One of the rigs was covered in balloons and a sign saying happy birthday, cap and the second rig was for Aedion and Lysandra and the front of the truck had a long white sheet over it that looked like a bridal veil and two massive papier mache rings attached to the front.

She laughed and joined Ansel and Manon who were doing some checks “did everyone see this?” She pointed at the engine and truck. The two women nodded.

“Then let’s clear it. I do not want to go on a call in that state.”

“Yes, captain.” Said the two women in unison. 

The locker room was empty and she sat down on the bench and looked at her phone again. She was hoping for a text from Rowan or a call but nothing yet. She kept telling herself that he was busy and probably out flying. She removed his dog tags and hung them in the locker and stood and stared at the pictures she had hung up. It was some of the photos they had taken in Doranelle. With her finger she brushed a photo of him. He was standing and looking up to the sky. His eyes closed and a small smile painted on his face and his hair all tousled after she had messed it up. It was one of her favourite photos of him. “Be safe, please.” And she blew him a kiss.

Aelin got dressed and then reached the team who was having breakfast in the communal room.

“She is here.” Shouted Nox happily.

Luca grabbed her arm and pulled to the table where a cake was waiting for her.

“Chocolate hazelnut cake. Your favourite.” He cut a slice and offered it to her.

Aelin grabbed it eagerly “mmmmm”

“Get a room you two,” shouted Ress.

A moment later Manon came through with a man carrying a large box “he says this is for you, captain.”

“Thanks, Manon.”

Aelin grabbed the box from the courier and sat down on the sofa. It came from a shop in Orynth. Strange. She opened the box and when she peeked inside she saw a massive stuffed toy. Once she lifted it she realised it was a bird and she had a feeling she knew who it was from.

“A bird? Why a bird?” Asked Lysandra.

Aelin smiled, grabbed the stuffed toy and walked to her bunk to be alone when she noticed the letter inside.

Once alone she sat down on her bed and placed the bird at her side and read the letter

Happy birthday, fireheart.

I wish I could be there for you but I can’t and it hurts more than I thought possible.

If you are reading this, you have met your new friend. I could not find a buzzard but a toy shop in Orynth had a white-tailed hawk and since I have silver hair I thought it was the closest option. Do we look similar? He will keep you company while I can’t be there with you.

I will try and call you tomorrow if I get a free moment, but the guys and I have pulled alert crew duty for the day so no phone for me.

Have fun with the girls and leave the other guys alone especially if they are navy and army.  Aelin chuckled at the joke

I miss you already.

I love you. Madly. 

To whatever end.

Yours, 

Buzzard.

By the time she had finished reading the letter she was in tears. She hugged the soft toy and for a moment she hoped to smell his scent of pine and snow. She went to her locker, grabbed the dog tags and put them around the bird’s neck “you look after them while I am on shift, but then I take them back.” After that she took a photo and sent it to Rowan “I think I will call him Rowan.”

**

It was later that night and Lysandra and Elide were at Aelin’s place to get ready for their fun night. Aelin though, was not in the mood. Rowan had eventually called her but the phone call was cut short when he had go and scramble. Soft toy Rowan was on her bed, his dog tags back on since she would not be wearing them with her dress.

Lysandra was going through her wardrobe looking for a dress for the night.

“So, the captain does have clothes that are not uniform,” said the woman going through his clothes but Aelin glared at her and Lys went back to Aelin’s side of the dresser.

“Did he phone you?”

“Yeah.” Said Aelin flatly while wearing her dress.

“Lorcan said they were having a couple of shitty days.”

Aelin ignored her friend or she would end up in tears and ruin her make up.

“Did he give you his dog tags?” Asked Lys noting them pending from the bird’s neck.

“No, he can’t. He made a copy. And I don’t want the original ones until he retires.”

“Why?” Asked Elide while she was busy fixing her hair.

“Because it means he is dead. They are used for identification.” Replied Lysandra flatly. She had learned that from Aedion.

“Can we please change subject?” Snapped Aelin.

Lysandra grabbed a green dress “what do you think?”

“It will go perfectly with your eyes.” Said Aelin wearing her blue dress.

“I thought you loved the captain.” Said Elide.

“Uh?”

“That dress?” Added Lys pointing at her attire “it makes you look as if you are open to being chased.”

“Too slutty?”

“Ansel will be proud of you.”

Aelin smiled “I do love the captain and I have no plans on taking anyone home. My only companion in bed tonight will be bird Rowan.” Then she wore a wig of red hair.

“Why the wig?”

Aelin and Aedion had decided not to tell anyone about their plan for the night, so she had to lie although it hurt lying to Lysandra “just for some fun.”

They arrived at the club half an hour later and Manon, Asterin and Ansel were already there and apparently already having fun.

“You made it” shouted the red-haired woman. “And who is the hot red-haired friend?”

“It’s me, Ansel.”

“Captain, you look hot.”

Aelin laughed “thank you.”

“We got some drinks already,” said Manon.

“Happy birthday, captain,” said Asterin raising her glass “and congratulation to Lys for bagging the meanest lieutenant in the TFD.”

Their glasses clinked and then Aelin spotted Chaol in the distance. What the heck was he doing at the club? She nodded at him and he gave her a small nod back. Everyone knew Chaol and if the girls spotted him it could raise some questions so she texted him with the pretence of being the overbearing girlfriend checking on her man.

The girls went out dancing and she stood behind saying she was not in the mood when she was actually trying to check out the place. She was about to join Chaol in his hideout when a guy stopped at her side and blocked her way “aren’t you a stunning creature?” He said and Aelin cringed. She really hated clubs and the pigs that came with them.

“Of course I am.”

She felt his arm sneak around her waist and his body move closer to hers and she closed her eyes at the fact that those arms were not Rowan’s.

“What if I buy you a few drink and have some fun you and I?”

“You couldn’t handle me.” She said to him in a whisper.

“I love a good challenge. My flat is not far from here.” And his hand slithered up on her back.

Aelin scoffed “I’d never have sex with you even if we were the last two humans left in the world.”

She made to walk away but he grabbed her arm. She almost punched him but in that instant she felt someone hugging her from behind “it’s me, follow my lead.” He whispered in her ear and she noticed it was Chaol.

“Thank you for finding my girlfriend. I went to the gents and I lost her.”

“Sorry darling,” said Aelin caressing Chaol’s face.

The stranger walked away annoyed.

“Thank you.”

“You were holding your own anyway.” He commented.

“I was about to punch him and cause a scene and mess up the mission.” She whispered then grabbed his hand and pulled him to a quiet booth at the back of the club

“What are you doing here?”

“Detective Ytger sent me here as back up. Hamel’s minions know all of the detectives but not us beat cops.”

“How do you want to proceed?” She asked him.

“You are the firefighter, I am just here to make sure you get out okay.”

“Ok, I need to walk around. Just keep an eye on me.” Chaol nodded and Aelin walked away.

She went back to the bar area and smiled when Elide walked toward her “Ace!! Come on it’s your birthday, you need to come and have fun.” She also had a job to do but felt bad at abandoning her friends. So she joined them again and Lys grabbed her for some dancing.

“How how many hearts did you break?”

“Just the one but he was a pig.”

“Did you tell him you have a super hot captain waiting for you?” 

Aelin shrugged and turned to Elide.

“How many drinks did Ansel give you?”

Elide lifted three fingers in front of her face “two.”

Aelin laughed “no more alcohol for you.”

“Buuut I am sad and I miss Lorcan.” Aelin hugged her friend knowing full well how she felt.

“Still, no more alcohol, you just can’t hold it.”

She walked Elide to Manon “can you keep an eye on her please? And just water please. Elide has reached her alcohol quota for the evening.”

“Of course.”

Aelin smiled at the white-haired woman. She was very introverted and of a very few words but she did not care about that since she was good at her job. She was the complete opposite of Ansel.

Speaking of the woman…”where did Ansel go?”

“Last time I have seen her she was dancing with a brunette.” Aelin dragged a hand on her face “I am going to the ladies. Just behave, okay?”

She used the excuse to slip away and walk around as she was supposed to do. She wanted to try and take some photo as proof but covert operations were not her forte.

“You are back,” whispered Chaol at her back.

“I’ll pretend to be drunk and lost.”

“Be careful, this is making me nervous.”

She nodded and walked away from him. Part of her was glad she had not mentioned this to Rowan, he would have gone in full protective mode.

She kept pretending she was drunk and dumb and ended up in the kitchen “sorry,” she slurred, leaning against the doorframe “are these the loos?”

“No miss,” said one of the staff “they are down there and on your right.” She gave the man a goofy smile and a wet kiss on the cheek “thank you, sweet man.” The hug had given her the time to have a very quick look in the kitchen and note there was no safety equipment. That was enough for her to shut down that club as well. How could they run a kitchen that way? She really had to take down the bastard. She hid in the shadows of the club and and checked the fire doors without activating them and found them of shoddy quality. She was fuming. She had a good look at the club and realised even the numbers of people allowed in was probably over the limit. Those doors were for 60 people, she could only see three on ground level, which meant a limit of 180 people. There were probably over three hundred, all crammed and spread on two levels. It was a firefighter nightmare. She ran back to Chaol “go home. I have seen enough. Tell the detective this place needs to be shut down as well.”

“I’ll phone her as soon as I am out. She was waiting for news anyway.”

“Go, and say hi to Yrene.”

Chaol left and she ran back to her friends nervous that she was placing them in danger. She wanted to go but the idea of leaving all those people behind made her nervous. She texted Aedion and rage surged back when he told her that their club was the same.

The girls took her dancing in the middle of the dance floor and danced away ignoring a couple of guys basically dancing on her. She hated clubs so much and the music was horrible. She bit down her annoyance and went to hug Lysandra “how does it feel to be almost married?”

“Weird.” She looked at Aelin “are you having fun?”

“You know I don’t like clubs but I came for you, it’s your night after all.”

“It’s your birthday too.”

Aelin shook her head “I get one every year, you better marry my cousin and stick to him.”

“And you stick to the captain. I want to come to your wedding.”

Aelin laughed “we’ll see…” then she turned and saw Elide leaning against the counter half asleep “what if we take the party to my place? I am sick of this place.”

“Please,” said Manon in a hopeful tone. She hated clubs as well “we can get alcohol on the way home. If I hear another man asking me why my hair is white I am going to start snapping necks.”

“Hey Manon, no need to snap necks,” then Aelin looked around for Ansel.

“I’ll get her,”said Asterin when she noticed the woman in the distance.

The woman came back with Ansel in tow and moved closer to Aelin “the fire exits are not enough and one is blocked.” She whispered.

“I know, I am going to call Peter and explain the situation to him.” She took her phone out “take the others to the cars. I’ll be there in a moment.”

Aelin watched Asterin walking the group to safety then hid in dark a corner and phoned Peter explaining that they had to pretend they had an anonymous call and come and pay a visit to the place and shut it down. The man agreed after she explained him the situation in terms of safety. She was playing dirty but could not care less. People’s lives were at stake. Hamel could just go and impale himself for all she cared.

Quickly she left the building and she went to her car joining Lys and Elide. The remaining women were in Manon’s car.

They stopped for booze on the way and finally got back home. Aelin took Elide piggyback style as the woman had fallen asleep. Once in the flat she placed Elide in the spare bedroom and covered her with a blanket then went back to the rest of the group camped in her living room. A text from Peter told her that the club had been safely evacuated and closed. Apparently he had found even more infractions that she had not the time to spot. 

“Ok, ladies back to the party.” Aelin grabbed a mixed selection of glasses and mugs for the beer.

Ansel stood and went to use the bathroom and came back a few minutes later “why do you have guy’s stuff on the bathroom shelf? Do you live with the silver fox?”

Aelin sighed “Rowan has been living here since I was discharged from the hospital.”

“That was a while ago.”

“I know.” Aelin sighed.

“Yes!” Shouted Ansel pulling Aelin toward her “our captain is shacking up. I am so proud of you.”

After a few drinks, Ansel would become very friendly with anyone. It was a good thing they had left the club.

In that instant she got a text from Aedion saying that he had activated the fire alarm in their club and evacuated the whole place after he had spotted a shit ton of infractions. Well, that was probably another club down. Definitely not what they had agreed with the detective but they had to do something.

“Ok, since this is a bachelorette party as well, we can have a bit of spiciness.” Said Asterin while drinking her beer “unusual place where you had sex. We need to give Lys some ideas.”

“Do we?” Joked Aelin “Lys would definitely teach us something.” Then everyone looked at Ansel “after her of course.”

“I once hooked up with civilian pilot and we did it in his cockpit before he got to fly the plane”

“Where you flying as well?” Asked Lysandra curious.

Ansel nodded “it’s a long story.”

“Aelin, you are up. I bet the captain is wild.” Lysandra’s eyebrows lifted suggestively.

“He is pretty amazing but the strangest places have been a beach, the sea, behind a waterfall, a pool at the foot of two different waterfalls and almost on a military ship.”

“Almost?” Asked Manon curious.

“I’ll show you the dress.”

Aelin went to get her black dress and got back a moment later “and he knew I had nothing underneath.”

The group of women cheered loudly “that must have driven him insane.” Joked Asterin.

“That’s why the almost. We would have been in a lot of trouble if we got caught.”

“I have nothing left to teach you.”Ansel was sprawled on a chair and lifted her beer in acknowledgment.

“Lys?”

The woman blushed savagely “in a car wash. Aedion and I stayed in the car while it was getting washed and… well.. it was quick but fun.”

“Definitely nothing to teach you,” Aelin clinked her bottle with her friend.

“Asterin?”

“My previous firehouse, with one of my colleagues on top of a rig on a night shift.”

Manon gave a light chuckle “was it when you were at the Regional 2?”

Asterin nodded “he was some hot firefighter. We are still friends. We did it once and then it felt so weird and never happened again.” She explained.

Aelin sighed “The night of the mayor’s party, Thomas and I hooked up. We ended up at my place. We did it, realised it was rebound sex and finished the night with tv and junk food.” Thinking about him still pained her.

“No friggin way. More than the kiss?” Asked Lysandra shocked.

Aelin nodded “after you saw us kissing I left, he found me, we went back to my place.”

Aelin looked around and noticed that no one wanted to make too many comments, his death was still too fresh for everyone and he had been Manon’s and Asterin’s captain.

“Does Rowan know?”

“I told him and he is fine. We were nothing at the time and I was mad at him.”

In that instant Elide joined the group and Aelin stood and went to her “hey, how are you feeling?”

“My head hurts.” Replied the woman leaning against Aelin.

“I should take her home. We are working tomorrow we should all go home.”

“Lys is right,” added Asterin “another 24hrs shift ahead, we need some sleep.”

Manon and Asterin offered to take Ansel home and Aelin remained with Lys and a sleepy Elide.

“I am sorry the evening sucked.”

“Hey,” Lysandra placed her hands on Aelin’s shoulders “it didn’t, and to be honest we were all quite tired. All it matters is to marry that annoying cousin of yours.”

“Take Elide home, she is about to go to sleep again.”

Once Aelin was alone she finally shed the dress and opened one of Rowan’s drawers and grabbed a t-shirt. They were usually far too big for her but she loved them as pyjama. She went to the bathroom, got ready and then finally got in bed with bird Rowan and squeezed close to his pillow to inhale his scent.

She grabbed her phone and found a text from Rowan

I hope you had a nice evening. I wish I had been there with you because it’s bad out here. I hope bird me is keeping you company. Have a nice night, Fireheart. Love you.

Aelin’s heart sank at the anguish in his voice. She tried to call him but had no answer.

I love you, come back to me, was all she managed.

She squeezed bird Rowan and tried very hard to fall asleep.

TAGS:

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@swankii-art-teacher​

@courtofjurdan​

@whimsicallyreading​

@tillyrubes10​

@surielandiareendgame​

@aelin-bitch-queen​

@bruiseonthefaceofhumanity 

[secretsickysideblog]

dumb lucky

"“you know my favorite color?” bucciarati slurs, brows furrowing. “anyway, it also came in purple, and black, and ivory, so I bought all of them, and uh…” “that’s cute,” bucciarati smiles, and abbacchio nearly dies at the way he looks while smiling unabashedly, weak as it may be right now. “you know my favorite color.”'

a mission takes bucciarati and abbacchio all the way to a town in piedmont where bucciarati finds himself fever-riddled in the midst of a snowstorm. abbacchio finds silver linings.

(sicktember day 1 - fever)

read under the cut!

It’s only tradition for things to go wrong for Passione. 

Well, perhaps that’s a lie--normally, they get dumb lucky. But this means that when things go wrong, they go incredibly wrong in multiple ways at once. It’s only fair for the amount of times the gang has narrowly escaped death by the skin of their teeth. And Abbacchio is grateful that neither he nor Bucciarati are running the risk of death right now; it could be much, much worse.

But this mission could certainly be going much better. After all, Abbacchio never thought he’d be buying fever reducers in a little town in Piedmont, Italy as a part of the job of Neapolitan Mafioso. He hadn’t expected to be led all the way to Piedmont in the first place. 

Easy mission my ass, Giovanna, he laments internally, rolling his eyes as he compares the prices between on and off-brand fever reducers. Abbacchio doesn’t usually bother to buy things like this, but Bucciarati’s fever--yes, a fever that had managed to swell up to a whopping 39 degrees overnight while on a mission--definitely needs to be treated. 

He settles on both bottles, and he grabs a pack of water bottles, too. Abbacchio peruses the shelves, considering what else Bucciarati might need. He’d rather not come trudging out through this snow again if he could help it; it started coming down last night and hasn’t shown any sign of stopping since. He grabs another thermometer, a can of soup, and he’s about to head to the register when he spots something else that catches his eye.

It’s a large blanket in blue--Bucciarati’s favorite shade of blue (not that Abbacchio bothers to remember things like his Capo’s favorite color), and god, does it look soft. His gaze wanders to the window. Snow falls in clumps, kicked up into a white mist by the wind, and Abbacchio could shiver just looking at it. He does shiver thinking about the short walk back to the motel through that storm. 

Abbacchio sighs, runs his fingertips over the inviting fleece. A blanket couldn’t hurt. 

He grabs it and tucks it under the arm without the basket only to spot that there’s another of the same in purple. And another, in ivory? Abbacchio isn’t someone tempted by luxuries, but blankets in the cold seem like a necessity. 

So he picks up both. Because Bucciarati has to sweat out the fever anyway, right? He’s too out of it to be angry, anyway. 

Abbacchio lugs the three heavy blankets and the basket of various other supplies to the register, fishing around in his pocket for his wallet. The cashier looks over his selection as she rings up and bags each object, smiling fondly. 

“Taking good care of someone, I see.”

Abbacchio huffs, lips quirking upward to a ghost of a smile. “Yeah, I guess I am. It’s about time he lets me.” 

“These blankets are on sale, you know. Buy one and the other is half-off,” and, in an expertly-crafted manner of egging him into it, the cashier finishes her sell with, “Everyone loves a good blanket. Perfect to cuddle up under.”

Abbacchio doesn’t anticipate growing the balls to ‘cuddle-up’ with Bucciarati, but something about the idea sways him into it. He stares at the blanket shelf in consideration for a long moment before giving in and grabbing a fourth, this one in black. 

The cashier is, clearly, proud of herself. Abbacchio can’t find it in himself to get as annoyed by this as usual. He did fall for her marketing scheme, after all. Can’t bitch about it if he gave in. 

Altogether, he walks out of the store with five bags slung on his arms, four of which are occupied by heavy fleece and tied off to avoid any of the snowfall. His boots feel like weights as he trudges through planes of muddy white, wrapping his scarf tighter around his neck. His hands are freezing--he wishes he’d bought gloves. 

When he finally returns to the motel room, Bucciarati is curled up on the bed. He looks just about the same as he did when Abbacchio left which is, admittedly, like shit. His hair, lacking its typical braid, fell in uneven layers wherever it wasn’t sticking to sweat-soaked skin. The only real color in his face is across his cheeks in bright, splotchy red, and though his eyes are closed now, they’ve been glazed over all morning. 

Abbacchio shakes his head in disapproval, wondering how Bucciarati managed to just ignore this, because he knows damn well it didn’t just spark overnight. He must’ve been feeling at least vaguely unwell before they’d embarked on this (unexpectedly) lengthy journey. Abbacchio tells himself, as he has every time he starts thinking about how his Capo sucks at self-care, that he’ll just bitch at him about it later; criticizing a sick person is mean, and besides, there’s not enough cognizance in his fever-addled head to comprehend annoyance right now anyway. 

He unties his scarf, shrugs off his coat, and unbags the items on the small coffee table in the room. Bucciarati stirs into half-lucidity, as told by the mix of a groan and a whine that slips from him after a bit of shifting around. Abbacchio looks over to him, seeing his hazy blues blink open, and he immediately grabs the bottle of fever reducers to force down his throat now while he’s just awake enough to swallow and not awake enough to protest.

“Here,” he holds out a bottle of water and two of the pills for Bucciarati to take, which he does after taking a second to process the command. He moves sluggishly, but he manages to get the pills down and put the water bottle on the nightstand. Abbacchio feels his forehead with the back of his hand, frowning at how much he’s burning still.

He goes to pull away. Bucciarati doesn’t let him, grabbing his wrist and holding his hand there.

“What are you doing?”

“Cold,” he mumbles, letting his eyes flutter closed again. “Feels nice.”

Abbacchio opens his mouth, closes it. Thanks the lord above that Bucciarati can’t see the way his cheeks heat up as though he’s contracted a fever. After a moment of hesitance, Abbacchio brings both of his hands up to cup Bucciarati’s cheeks, and the other man sighs contentedly. 

“Well, if it’s cold you want, maybe you should go take a nap in the snow,” Abbacchio jokes.

“Hm,” Bucciarati takes a breath. “Perhaps I should.” 

Abbacchio stares down at Bucciarati. At the way his eyelashes, dark and thick, fan out across his cheeks. At his lips, still pretty and pink and miraculously not very chapped. Even now, sick as a dog, Bucciarati is gorgeous. Abbacchio could watch him forever, he’s sure, but then he realizes how creepy he’s being and abruptly pulls away. Bucciarati’s eyes open with a dejected look to them, and Abbacchio reminds himself that it’s not because it’s his hands, it’s because his hands are cold and Bucciarati is delusional with fever.

“Uh, so, I got you two kinds of fever reducer, and you’re gonna take it whether you like it or not,” Abbacchio starts to say, clearing his throat. Bucciarati hums, half-listening. “I got water. A can of soup, if you get hungry, but since you just woke up I’m sure you’re not yet.”

Bucciarati doesn’t respond, so Abbacchio assumes he’s right. He’ll make him eat something later. 

“And,” Abbacchio unties the other four bags, “I know you’re not looking to get warmer, but fevers have to be sweat out, right? I got blankets. They were on sale.”

Bucciarati almost whines, though it’s quiet, subtle. Abbacchio opts to ignore it, because it does nothing good for his heart. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know, but look, it’s your favorite color,” Abbacchio holds up the blanket in proud display. Bucciarati looks at it, but it’s clear that he’s not fully seeing it. 

“You know my favorite color?” Bucciarati slurs, brows furrowing.

“Anyway, it also came in purple, and black, and ivory, so I bought all of them, and uh…”

“That’s cute,” Bucciarati smiles, and Abbacchio nearly dies at the way he looks while smiling unabashedly, weak as it may be right now. “You know my favorite color.” 

Abbacchio takes the tags off the plush fabric and chucks it at Bucciarati. Bucciarati, as expected, makes no move to catch it. It takes him a minute to slip the fleece off of his head and onto his lap. This process is repeated four more times as a mountain of plush fabric piles up on the bed--the singular bed, which Abbacchio would be incredibly nervous about if this was a year ago, but they’ve been stuck in the ‘unfortunate’ one-bed scenario too many times for him to care anymore. 

“This is...so many,” Bucciarati murmurs, staring down at the pile. He runs his thumb along the hem of the blue one. “They are soft, though.”

“I don’t know if you can feel how cold it is in here, much less out there,” Abbacchio gestures towards the storm just beyond the windows, “but we needed them. I don’t know how long we’re gonna be stuck here, between your fever and the bastard we’re after.”

Bucciarati nods, absently petting the blankets. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Falling ill,” Bucciarati says it like it’s the most obvious reason to apologize in the world. “We’re stuck here. It’s my fault.”

Abbacchio rolls his eyes. “Stop apologizing for things you can’t control.”

Bucciarati looks like he wants to protest, but then his expression turns confused as if his own thought process doesn’t make sense to him anymore. Abbacchio snorts at the sight and shakes his head before climbing into bed beside the other man and urging him to lay back down.

“I’m all sweaty.”

“I don’t care,” Abbacchio pulls one of the many blankets around them up to his shoulders, and another about halfway above that. He lets Bucciarati kick the others aside. “You’re warm, and I’m cold. I’m finding silver linings.”

Bucciarati chuckles a little. If he were any more coherent, he’d make a joke about Abbacchio’s usual pessimistic cynicism being an act; the latter is almost grateful, at that thought, for the fever. The wind howls outside as the storm picks up. It’s definitely not an ideal situation, but it could be much worse.

Bucciarati turns to nuzzle his face into the crook of Abbacchio’s neck. Tentatively, Abbacchio wraps an arm around him.

Maybe this was just dumb luck in disguise. 

[verai-marcel]

Of Dragons and Love (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: Arthur didn't want to come to Strawberry, didn't want to help a certain sniveling rat escape his cell. So he decides to explore the town instead and runs into a mysterious woman whom he can't let go. 

Author’s Notes: I’m gonna take a moment and lean hard on my heritage to pull some inspiration from an old Cantonese opera. And we're gonna leave Micah in his cell because nuts to that guy. So pretend this takes place in chapter two when Arthur was supposed to go rescue him, but decided to do a side quest instead. This was written for the RDR Mini Bang! @rdrbigbang

Tags: Arthur x F!Reader, spoilers, Chinese mythology-inspired, alternate timeline, mild exophilia, insta-love, magic, smut, HEA

Word Count: 6,378

Accompanying Artwork: @danger-r-98-5 has made some wonderful art for this fic!

AO3 Link is here.

--------------------

Arthur stepped into the small town of Strawberry and immediately wanted to turn around. He could pretend Micah was dead. He could just bide his time and wait for him to hang. 

As he rode through the small town, he passed the small jail and kept going to the visitor's center. Seeing the map of the nearby area tacked onto the wall next to the entrance, he hitched his horse and walked over to take a better look. 

"Welcome to Strawberry, good sir!" 

Arthur flicked a tired glance at the boisterous man before continuing his casual perusal of the map, waiting to see if he would leave. When the man remained beside him, he sighed, exasperated. 

"Hullo," he said without looking at the other man.

"Are you here for business or pleasure?" 

"Uh, just passin' through." It sure as hell wasn't for pleasure, and his business was his own. 

"Ah, I see. Well, please keep us in mind if you ever want to spend a day relaxing in our lovely town. This hotel is the coziest in West Elizabeth," the man boasted, gesturing behind him. "And the scenic Mount Shann and Owanjila Dam aren't too far from here."

"Alright."

"And Big Valley, just past the mountains, is a beautiful place to hunt and camp."

"Uh huh."

When Arthur continued to look at the map without any further inclination towards interacting with him, the man gave up on his sales pitch. "Well, I'll be inside if you have any questions."

"Ayup."

Finally alone, Arthur focused on the path that would take him to Owanjila. He'd been meaning to do a bit of fishing and commune with nature. Seemed like as good a place as any. 

Anything to postpone the reason he came here.

***

You weren't sure how you lived so long, not knowing what you were. You had been living with your mother for two decades, not knowing who your father was. Your mother didn't talk about him, and the one time you asked, she had simply said one thing. 

"He disappeared."

You didn't know what that meant exactly, and she did not explain. 

Until one day, on your twentieth birthday, he appeared. A large, scary looking man came to your door. Your mother paled and tried not to react, but when he held out a necklace and told her how sorry he was for leaving her alone, she broke down and cried. 

You found out that when she was young, your mother lived in a small house by a waterfall that fed a large lake. There was a growing town not too far from there, where she worked as a waitress.

One day, on the other side of the lake, a group of Chinese workers made camp as they worked on the railway that was coming through town. They were not welcomed in the town by most people, but your mother took pity on them and sold them food and other groceries, for a delivery fee. 

Somehow, your father had caught her eye, and they developed a secret relationship. When her parents discovered the love letter your father had written to your mother, she was kicked out of the house, without anything of hers to take with her. When your mother had gone to the camp to look for your father, it had been abandoned, the workers having left hours earlier to the next site. 

Broken hearted, your mother had thrown the necklace he had gifted her into the lake and left town, moving to Strawberry and giving birth to you. You had grown up here, made friends, had a few short dalliances with boys here while you grew up.

Strawberry was a small town, but there was a creek running through it, and when you had free time, which was not often these days, you loved to follow the creek to a waterfall and watch the water. You always felt an affinity with the water, felt like it always pulled at your very soul. You had learned how to swim with ease; your mother had said you were like a fish. 

Your father explained why he had left, and why he had finally come back. 

"I am a Dragon," he had said. "Great-great grand-nephew of the Dragon King of the North Sea."

He was an immortal creature, drawn to the belief of his people in a foreign land, looking for something to comfort them while they worked in dangerous conditions to make money to send home to their families. He protected them, guided them, and thus, had to follow where they went. When the camp left suddenly, he had no time to say goodbye and was nearly dragged away, the pull of his people’s belief taking him with them.

But now he was free, his people having finished their jobs. They had dispersed, either leaving for China or moving to San Francisco, where other Dragon Gods held domain and took over the belief of his former followers. So he started looking for his long lost love, who still cared for him deep in her heart, and traced the thread of emotion leading back to her.

He promised to take care of you and your mother from now on, and he made good on his promise. For the past five years, he had worked alongside the two of you, making your small farm plot healthy and fertile. 

It helped that he could make the sky rain whenever you needed it. 

He had also trained you in your small powers. Because you had been untrained for so long, your powers were weak, but over time, and with practice, they grew steadily stronger. You could breathe underwater. You could swim faster than humanly possible. And while you couldn't transform into a dragon, your hair became teal and your skin could shift into a bluish-grey tint. It was a bit unsettling the first time you did it in the mirror. 

But your most favorite power of all was the ability to shape nearby water to your will. At first, you could only move a small amount of water in a mug. But over time, you could move water in pitchers, basins, buckets, barrels, and even water troughs for animals. 

At this point, if you entered a pond, you could easily create ripples and small waves just by focusing on your energy and sending it outwards from you. 

Five years had passed since he had come back, and you had learned so much. Your life was so peaceful now that it came as no surprise when your parents announced that they wanted to move back to their hometown. Of course something had to change; that was the only constant in life, after all.

But you didn’t want to leave. You loved Strawberry. This was your home.

Your father had let out a breath, then smiled, much to your surprise.

“Owanjila does not have a spirit to guard it, since it’s a new body of water. Perhaps… you can become its guardian.”

“But I’m half-human,” you had said.

“So is Owanjila,” he said.

You nodded and smiled. Now you knew why he had been training you so hard all these years.

***

Arthur was pleasantly relaxed for the first time in a long time. He had spent all day fishing and gathering herbs after he set up a small campsite tucked away in the thicker part of the forest. It was quiet on this side of the lake, since all the travelers would go across the dam to take in the scenery. He was glad he picked a spot that was farthest from, for he didn’t have the energy to even say hello.

With a couple of large fish, he made his way back to his campsite, cooked up a fine meal with his freshly picked herbs, and spent some time writing and drawing before looking up at the stars before he fell asleep, the campfire quietly dying as his snores melded with the rest of the night.

***

It had been three months since your parents had left you here. They had sold the small farm and used the money to help you fix up a small abandoned fishing cabin out here on the far side of the lake, where you could hunt and gather on your own, trading furs and fish in town. Ever since you had become the guardian, the fish had spawned much more frequently and grew faster than normal, keeping you well fed. You figured it was a side-effect of the lake having a guardian spirit now.

You looked at your hands; yesterday, you had tripped on a step as you walked back from town, getting some small cuts on the palms of your hands as they had scraped against the gravel. Today, they had healed so quickly that there were no scars; you had never healed so quickly before. You wondered if your powers were growing and had walked into town earlier today to send a letter to your folks, letting them know what had happened.

It was late; the moon was high in the sky, and as bright as the electric lights in St Denis. You were roused from your sleep by the pull of the moon, and knew that it was time.

You took off your clothes and set them on your front porch. Walking to the water’s edge, you slipped into the water without a sound, the liquid embracing you as if you were an old friend.

“Hello, Owanjila,” you whispered as you walked deeper and deeper until you were completely submerged. Then you transformed, your skin turning bluish-grey, your hair shifting to a beautiful teal, and your gills appearing near your collarbone. You kicked your legs and swam gracefully through the water, spinning and twirling as you joyfully moved through the water as easily as you could walk on land.

Once you reached the middle of the lake, you bolted upwards, your legs kicking in unison with such speed and power that you broke the surface easily, your body shooting into the air. You let out a whoop of excitement, for it was only during full moons that you could fly this high out of the water; you had certainly tried other times. For a moment, the starry sky and the bright moon seemed impossibly close, and you held out your hands as if you could gather them all up and hold them tight forever.

Flipping backwards, you extended your hands in front of you and dove back into the water with barely a splash.

***

“Huh, whuzzah,” Arthur muttered as he was jolted awake by the sound of someone yelling. Immediately on alert, Arthur reached for his pistol and carefully made his way out of the tent, looking around. Seeing nothing but trees and rocks after circling his campsite twice, he was about to go back into his tent.

Another yell echoed through the trees. It didn’t sound like anyone in danger, more like… elation? 

His curiosity piqued, he quietly made his way towards the lake, following the sounds of the water sloshing around as if someone was swimming. Coming to the shoreline, he saw the full moon, reflected in the water, with ripples circling from the center of the reflection.

Unable to stop himself, Arthur found a nearby rock and climbed it to better see the center of the lake. Squatting down, he peered out at the water.

Something shot out of the water at breakneck speed, surprising him enough that he fell onto his ass.

For a split second, he saw everything clearly.

He saw her nude form, water glistening off her skin, the moon bathing her in a silvery light. He saw the look of ecstasy on her face as she looked up at the moon.

He saw her eyes as they met his.

Arthur’s heart skipped a beat.

Then she was gone, diving back into the water like an arrow, hardly disturbing the surface.

Sitting up, he crawled to the edge of the rock and peered at the spot, waiting for her to return. Part of him wondered if he had imagined it, and part of him hoped she was real. He had felt like he had seen something so evanescently ephemeral that his heart fluttered like a child seeing fireworks. He wanted to experience that sparkling feeling again and again. 

When his knees ached and his joints complained, he finally gave up, climbed off the rock, and returned to his tent. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but it didn’t come quickly as his heart continued to race. When he finally managed to nod off, his dreams were filled with a mysterious woman with an expression so filled with euphoria that he could almost taste her joy.

***

You were mortified. A man was camping around your lake and you hadn’t noticed? Granted, you were in town most of the day trying to sell some rabbit pelts, and then you had written your letter at the post office since you had run out of ink and bought some at the general store and didn’t want to walk all the way back to your cabin. 

But still, you hadn’t noticed. You supposed it was because he had no ill intent. It wasn’t that you could sense people, that wasn’t how your power worked; it was more you could feel out harmful intentions. People who came and went on the dam were usually harmless tourists and you took no notice of them. But occasionally that greedy mayor would come up here and consider building some cheap cabins out on the lake as tourist traps, and you would cause the lake to be extra choppy that day, splashing water on him if you were nearby. It was usually enough to change his mind.

You stayed at the bottom of the lake, waiting long enough before you slowly swam up again, moving towards the edge of the lake before you poked your head up from the water.

He was gone.

You sighed in relief and swam back to your cabin, looking around once more before getting out and back onto your porch. Grabbing your clothes, you got inside and dried off, thinking of the man’s shocked expression.

But what came to your mind most of all was that in the moonlight, you had managed to make eye contact. In that moment, your heart had pounded like you had seen something beautiful. 

Despite your embarrassment at being caught naked and in your half-dragon form, you wanted to see him in the daylight. You wanted to find out who he was, and why your heart had finally moved after all these years.

***

Arthur came out of his tent, bleary eyed as he yawned. He hadn’t gotten a whole lot of sleep, but he was, for better or for worse, used to it. The sound of a crackling of a fire and the sight of a figure sitting with their back turned was also something he was used to.

Until he realized that the fire had gone out last night and he had come to this place alone. Reaching for his pistol, he stopped when he heard her speak.

“I mean you no harm.”

Arthur, suspicious, for people who had said that to him before often would turn around and shoot him, put a hand on his pistol, but left it in its holster. Coming out of his tent and rising to his full height, he walked around to face the woman at his campfire.

When she looked up at him, he felt like he was hit with an arrow.

Those same eyes from last night met his, and he felt like the whole world slowed and became silent. All he saw was her, and he didn’t care about anything else.

***

His eyes were beautiful, like gemstones sparkling in the morning light. His hair was tousled from sleep, but it made you think of him in bed next to you. You swallowed. Why were you thinking of waking up next to him? You barely knew him!

But you couldn’t ignore the heat in your veins as your eyes traveled down his body. His very tall, muscular body. Oh gods, you felt your heartbeat quicken as you suddenly had a mental image of him climbing over you, his naked body above yours, his big hands holding your hips as he thrust—

“Can I help you, miss?” the man finally asked, his voice rough from sleep. His voice was like whiskey, flowing smoothly over your body and making you burn with need. He swallowed, and you watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down in his throat. Oh, to lick that sun-kissed skin…

You shook your head, both in answer to him and to clear the lustful images from your head. “I’m alright, I just wanted to share your campfire.”

***

“Oh?” Arthur asked, sitting down beside her to hide his body’s reaction to meeting her eyes. When he had met her gaze, he was hit hard with desire, the sudden image of her beneath him, legs spread, her expression of ecstasy for him and him alone.

For a brief moment, he wanted to take her, to guide her to the ground and thrust wildly inside of her like an animal.

But instead he reeled himself in; he wasn’t that kind of man. He didn’t even know why he had such a visceral reaction to her. All he knew was that she was sitting here with him now, and she was beautiful. When she turned away, he felt like he was suddenly lost, and wished for her to look at him once more with those mysterious eyes. He observed her as she poked the fire with a stick, wondering what she was thinking.

“So, uh, you live around here?” he asked, berating himself immediately for such an awkward question.

“I do, just down the shoreline,” she replied.

“Oh.”

She turned to meet his gaze, and he felt it once more. A pull, stronger than any he had ever known, as if she was hypnotizing him with just one look. Unable to stop himself, he leaned in closer, her lips beckoning him.

“What are you doing?” she asked curiously.

The spell broken, Arthur quickly leaned back and sputtered, “I, uh, I don’t know, to be honest.”

The woman smiled at him, and he felt his entire world light up with fireworks.

“What’s your name?”

“Arthur.”

“Nice to meet you, Arthur.”

She told him her name, and he repeated it just so he could say it out loud. He loved the way her name rolled off his tongue. He had shivered with desire from the way she had said her name. 

“So you saw me last night,” she said after a few moments.

He smiled nervously as guilt wracked him. “Uh, yup. I’m sorry, I didn’ mean to peek.”

“It’s alright, I should’ve been more careful,” she said, a wry grin on her face. “Usually no one camps here.”

Silence stretched between them as Arthur wondered what he should say, if anything.

She brought up her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. “And there’s not much to look at anyway,” she said self-deprecatingly.

“You were beautiful,” he blurted out suddenly. He couldn’t believe she’d think that. He wanted to burn the sight of her coming out of the water into his memories so he’d never forget.

She turned her head to look at him, and he felt the pull once more, but it was tinged with melancholy. It made his heart clench. He reached out and put an arm around her, pulling her into his chest, desperate to ease the pain. “Yer beautiful,” he repeated.

***

Surrounded by warmth, you sank into his chest and breathed in his scent. His natural musk, layered with balsam and leather, was soothing to you, made you feel safe and protected. No other man had affected you like this. Was this how your parents had fallen for each other? Was it an instant attraction?

You had been taught to follow your instincts, and something about this man made you want to keep him forever. To hold him tight and never let him go.

So you reached back out to him, wrapping your arms around his broad torso. Looking up at him, meeting his surprised expression, you leaned forward and kissed him. His lips were chapped but pliable as you pushed forward, pressing your body against his.

You were met with a startled grunt. He let you go and backed away, like a shy lady from an all too amorous man.

“Y-you barely know me,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper.

“Sorry,” you said, shrinking back on yourself. Maybe you misread him, maybe he was just saying you were beautiful to make you feel better. Maybe you were just lonely and wanted to connect with him, the first man who had made you feel something in years.

“Look,” he said, leaning forward again, “it’s not that I don’t want to, I just think, well, maybe we git to know each other a bit more first before, uh, well…” He trailed off, gesturing blandly.

You laughed. Of course. He was shy. Standing up, you reached out to him. “Will you stay a while? My cabin is small but it’ll protect you from the elements better than your tent. And it’ll be warmer at night too.”

Arthur stared at your hand for a moment before standing up on his own. “Alright. I’ll pack up first.”

***

Arthur wasn’t sure how he was convinced to stay in a cabin with a woman he hardly knew, but every time he met her eyes, everything else fell away and all he wanted was to be with her. 

He wasn’t sure how much time passed, maybe a few days, maybe weeks. But he had never been so content to just fish and hunt and spend time with his sweet lady. He learned about her parents, who had been small-time farmers near Strawberry before they moved to her mother’s hometown, leaving her to live on her own. When he had asked why, she had said it was because she loved it here and didn’t want to leave.

He understood why; after the first few days of just roaming the land, living off its bounty, he was quite content to just stay and forget his troubles. She would go into town and sell his furs and pelts, and when he wasn’t hunting, he would help upgrade her little cabin, fixing up small things here and there to make her more comfortable.

He had insisted on sleeping on his bedroll on the floor beside her bed, at least for now. He felt like he was working up the courage to bed her, even though she clearly had given him an open invitation to her bed. 

Every night he thought about it.

And every night, he trudged to his bedroll and slept beside her bed like a faithful pet dog.

***

14 days had passed. The new moon would be out tonight, and you were itching to go for a swim.

But with Arthur here, you hesitated. He had seen you that first night, sure. But he hadn’t seen you clearly. He hadn’t seen your skin and hair color change, your gills at your collarbone, your preternaturally fast swimming. 

As you stood at the end of your little fishing dock that was connected to the porch of your cabin, you sighed. Watching the setting sun streak its beautiful orange rays across the water, you internally debated if you should show him so you could freely act as the guardian once more. You had been feeling stifled as of late, only able to use your powers while he was out hunting, and only in secret in case he might come out of the forest at any given time.

“What’s the matter, darlin’?”

You smiled. He had started calling you his darling or his sweetheart after a week of gentle caresses as he walked by, or even a casual kiss on the cheek as you went into town on an errand. No matter how much he said it, you melted every time. It was endearing and charming to you, even though they were simple words. The way he said them, the love and care he put into those pet names, was everything you wanted to hear.

Turning to Arthur, you saw that he was dressed in his usual blue shirt and black ranch pants, looking concerned. Seeing the care he had for your well-being made you come to a decision. He deserved the truth of you.

“I need to show you something.”

***

Arthur swallowed as his sweet lady began to disrobe right there on the dock. He was shocked to a standstill, unable to move as he saw every inch of beautiful skin exposed to his view. His pants grew tight, his throat dry, and his internal instinct to protect surged through him.

“Darlin’, what’re you…” 

He couldn’t utter another sound as he watched her usual skin shimmer and then shift to a blue-grey tint. Her hair became teal colored, and slits appeared above her collarbone.

“Gills,” she said as she pointed at them, shrugging shyly. “I’m a dragon spirit. Or half of one.”

Arthur could only nod in both shock and awe. He had suspected she was hiding something, but he would have never guessed it was something like this. He took in her form, human and yet not, familiar and yet bizarre. But still beautiful, wonderful, her.

“Do… do I disgust you?”

“No!” Arthur said, quickly taking two steps to stand in front of her. “Yer still the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.”

Seeing her smile shyly and look away, his need to assure her only grew stronger. “That why you could swim so good?” he asked, reaching up to caress her neck, right above her gills.

She nodded again.

“What’d you mean by half?” he asked, curious.

“My father, he was a dragon, the great-great grand nephew of the Dragon King of the North Sea.”

Arthur nodded. “Oh. Okay then.” He didn’t understand what that meant, but it sounded a bit important.

She tittered. “I don’t really know how important that is either,” she said, answering the unspoken question. “But I can swim real fast, breathe underwater, and I can control water a little bit,” she said, her excitement growing with each word. She turned to the water and put out her hand.

Ripples started to appear, and they grew into small waves, rolling across the surface of the lake.

She turned back to him, a happy glow to her eyes. “I’m so glad you’re not disgusted by me.”

“I’d never be,” he replied, pulling her into his arms. His gaze traveled along her face, admiring her hair color, her bluish-grey skin, and the gills at her neck, before looking at her smile, full of self-confidence. She was radiant and it made her all the more alluring. 

“You’re beautiful, no matter what.”

***

This time when you kissed Arthur, he kissed you back, unafraid, bold, confident. He quickly took over, his fingers gripping the back of your head as he pulled your body closer to his. You felt the rough fabric of his shirt sliding along your sensitive nipples and moaned softly.

He suddenly wrapped one arm around your waist and one around your ass before picking you up with ease. 

“I need you darlin’,” he murmured before turning from the dock and walking determinedly towards your cabin. He maneuvered you inside and shut the door, not wanting any interruptions. Laying you down on the bed, he stepped away to light the lantern before returning to you, taking off his hat and flinging it aside.

You shifted back to your human colors, your gills disappearing.

“Yer magical,” Arthur whispered before resting his forehead against yours and closing his eyes, a wry grin on his face. You kissed him back, smiling in return, acknowledging his silly word choice and accepting his sentiment for what it was: a compliment. He shared your gaze for a few moments before kissing you back as he unbuttoned his shirt, leaving it open while he climbed over you. You could feel his impatience as he pressed his bare chest against yours, his kisses heating up and becoming demanding.

“Arthur,” you breathed as he moved down to kiss your neck, his lips tracing lines where your gills had been.

“Why’d I wait this long,” he muttered, mostly to himself, as he ran his fingers from your hip up your belly. His touch was feather-light, almost ticklish as he skimmed the underside of your breast before tracing circles around your areola. 

You writhed, whimpering softly. He looked at you, keeping his gaze locked with yours as he leaned down and took your nipple into his mouth. 

"Oh, yes," you moaned as his tongue played with you, distracting you just long enough for his other hand to caress the inside of your thighs. You parted your legs eagerly. 

You felt Arthur smile against your skin before he switched to your other breast, giving you the same pleasure as his hand slid between your legs, his fingers exploring your slit. 

"This honey fer me, darlin'?" he asked in a low, husky voice. 

"All for you," you whispered. 

He let out a soft growl of satisfaction before dipping a finger inside of you. Your hips lifted up towards his touch. Moving away from your breast, he kissed his way up your neck, to your cheeks, then to your lips once more. He took his time tasting you, his tongue languidly caressing yours as his fingers delved inside of you, his thumb brushing against your bud, each stroke driving you higher and higher towards your peak that was approaching rapidly.

You moaned his name, muffled as it was by his mouth on yours. He growled in return, pumping his fingers faster, his thumb stroking you with determination.

"Ah, ah, Arthur!" you cried out as you climaxed. As you felt the pleasure zip through your veins, you buzzed with power for a moment before it faded. 

You didn't have time to think about it, for Arthur climbed off the bed and took off the rest of his clothes. He was such a big man, with muscles from hard work, scars from a rough life, and a dangerous grace to him. He had power and knew how to use it. 

And right now, he wanted to make you release over and over again. 

He climbed over you, just like in your fantasies, and spread your legs, wrapping them around his waist. Taking his hard length in his hand, he slid the tip around your entrance, slicking himself up as he watched you tremble beneath him. 

"You sure 'bout this, darlin'?" he murmured, a slight tremor in his voice, as if he was holding back. He didn't stop sliding the head of his cock along your slit, up and down in a slow rhythm. 

"Yes, yes please Arthur, just take me!" you begged. He was driving you mad with his gentle strokes. You lifted your hips up, causing the tip of him to slip inside. 

"So needy, sweet girl," he crooned before he pushed forward, driving himself deeper inside of you. 

You writhed and winced as your body stretched around his girth. He was sweating, holding himself steady as he waited for you to regain your breath before inching forward some more. Patiently, Arthur watched your every reaction, taking great care to control his movements until his hips finally came flush with yours. 

He murmured your name, his lips brushing against yours before he kissed you. His hands cradled your face as he grinded against you, the heat of his body warming you up like a thick quilt. Deepening the kiss, he angled your head so he could devour you. A low moan escaped him as his hips shifted, building a steady rhythm of short thrusts. 

"More, Arthur," you said when he finally let you take a breath. 

"I'll give you whatever you need," he replied before lifting himself up, letting the cool air touch your body. He pulled his cock out almost all the way and waited for an eternal moment while he stared into your eyes, the lust blowing out his pupils. 

Then he slammed back inside of you.

Your pleasure-filled yell was stopped short by Arthur's swift uptick in pace. He was hammering his cock inside of your tight, wet channel, and he couldn't get enough. Not saying a word, he only moaned and panted as he drove into you relentlessly, taking just a split second to adjust his angle before continuing. 

"So good," he moaned before he got up onto his haunches, taking your hips in his big hands, his fingers digging into your flesh as he fucked you like a man possessed. He growled, a feral sound of pleasure, before he reached down and stroked your clit. 

"Need… to… see… you… let go…" he panted. 

You tightened your legs around his waist, meeting his thrusts with your own enthusiastic motions, reaching for your breasts and playing with your nipples before him. 

"Oh darlin', you look so pretty like that," he grit out, his face contorted in an effort to control his desires. He was so close. So very close. 

"Give me everything!" you gasped, your body shaking, on the edge of a precipice so high that you almost felt fear.

Feeling your body grip him so tightly, Arthur let out a passionate shout before he spilled inside of you. His eyes were wild as he stared at you, his mouth open as he drew in breath after ragged breath. He moaned as he thrust one last time before crushing his hips to yours, keeping his shaft inside of you for as long as possible. 

As he spent himself inside of you, you felt your core suddenly overflow with ecstasy, your body shuddering as you came around his thick cock. At the same time, your power unleashed, making your body glow a bluish hue. 

"Darlin'!?" Arthur panicked, sounding winded, his brow creased with worry. 

The power that had unlocked within you gave your vision a strange overlay of colors. And within the warm orange glow of Arthur was a black cloud in his chest. You reached out through the haze of your afterglow and pulled at it. 

He gasped and coughed. 

You pulled again. Now that you had touched it, you knew it was bad. It needed to get out of his system before it did permanent damage. 

Arthur grasped his chest. "What…" he trailed off as he coughed a few more times before you managed to heave out the black cloud from his lungs. You quickly quashed it in your hands. 

Looking up at him, you put your hands on his cheeks and kissed him, pouring the last of the glowing power inside of him. On some instinctual level, you knew you had healed him of something. Whether it was an old lingering illness or a new one that was just about to form, it was now gone from his system. 

When you finally pulled away, Arthur looked bewildered. For a few seconds, or a few minutes, you weren’t sure how slow or fast time was flowing, the two of you could only stare at each other, lost in that foggy place between dreams and reality.

"What'd you pull outta me?" Arthur finally asked, still a little breathless.

"Something bad. An illness, I think,” you replied. You took a deep breath before squeezing his hand. “Whatever it was, it will no longer hurt you." 

Arthur smiled and pressed his forehead against yours. "Thank you, sweetheart."

***

Arthur left a day later, telling you that he'd be back once he had taken care of some people.

You didn't see him for a long time.

Four months passed before you saw him again. He looked ragged, skinnier, as if he had been through hell and back. But when he saw you, he rushed over and fell into your arms, holding you tight as if you were the only real thing in his world. 

***

He told you everything. He confessed that he had been the one to help that criminal escape and shot up the town. That he had been chased all over three states with his gang. That he had stolen money from several trains. That he had been on a ship that had sunk and was stranded on an island for days before finding a way back. 

He told you about John. He told you about how he had helped him escape the Pinkertons, had ran with him all the way down the mountain before telling him where to meet his family. Then Arthur had set off, the long way around through the wilds of Ambarino so he could lose the men who were chasing him, just so he could get safely back to you.

You saw now that his eyes were unclouded, having seen his world for what it was. You saw pain and regret in his eyes, but you also saw understanding and a clarity that was not there before. He appeared to have finally found wisdom at a heavy price.

After he had told you everything, you cooked him a meal of steamed fish and herbs. He ate quietly, as if his confession had stolen all of his words from him. 

He finished his meal and sat in silence for a few minutes before looking towards you. "I ain't a good man—" 

You shushed him. "You are more good than not, Arthur," you said. "We all make mistakes. You were just trying to do your best. That's all any of us can do."

Reaching for his hand across the table, you grasped it and pulled it to your chest, placing it over your heart. "Will you stay?" 

Arthur smiled hesitantly. "You… still want me?" 

You stood up and leaned across the table to kiss him. "I'll always want you, Arthur. I love you."

He kissed you back. When he looked at you, his gaze full of gratitude. "I love you too, my sweet darlin'. Thank you fer believin' in me."

--------------------

End Notes: I had to end it on a sappy note, of course. Hope you enjoyed that little romp with some folklore!